Oh, how Buddy hated the acrid smell of the ink, and the beating sound of the hearts that attracted Boris so easily like flies to honey. A means to communicate vibrations to the deafened creature that stalked the halls with sharp cries and a sharper eye. The rooms that had thick congealed ink all around, serving almost like the silky strands of a massive spider’s web. If there was anything in the studio that Buddy hated in particular, it was the Projectionist’s many roosts. And finally…There was the one that really hurt Buddy the most to think about… A girl playing a part that would never fit her again, not after it had twisted her into such a figure of malice. Whatever had been done to her had left her as nothing if not a hollow mask of Joey’s imperfect dream. Then there was the manipulative angel who’s voice he recognized as Susie Campbell’s. Where he’d once been merely rude and loud, now he was an ax wielding murderer with no qualms in cutting you down for his “lord”, or for stealing his offerings to said entity. The once-music director had been consumed by the corruption of the ink from the inside out, making someone already inherently hostile all the much worse. Other terrors included the deranged Prophet, aka Sammy Lawrence.
It was instinctive terror one couldn’t hope to understand, much less a young boy trapped within the mind and body of a cartoon wolf. It activated his flight response on sight alone, if not before an actual sighting even. The Ink Demon was the worst of these threats, as it had free roam of the studio, but the inky horror’s terrifying aura was beyond any explanation Buddy could articulate. Worse yet, there were threats much worse than wailing Searchers, desperate Lost Ones, or those really messed up Butcher Gang clones. For Boris it was much worse, the wolf’s terror blinding Buddy countless times as they traversed the horrors that hid not only danger but also a bountiful stockpile of useful trinkets and ( bleh) stale bacon soup. People Buddy had once called friends or cordial coworkers were now either horrific inky abominations, weeping skeletal husks, or one of several carcasses he’d come across. Played god and reshaped the world around him to fulfil a sick fantasy of a dream that had been unrealistic and unreacheable. Joey Drew had essentially upended reality with that ghastly machine of his. He couldn’t blame the poor toon for his hesitance, as Buddy was just as terrified of what the studio and its employees had morphed into. More self aware and active in their moments of respite, and less willing to move forward into these lonesome and terrifying jogs in and out of Wally’s abandoned safehouse that he’d taken up residency in. In turn, Boris was becoming more conscious. Not terribly fast, but enough so that he could notice his control slowly slipping away from his grasp. Fact of the matter was that Daniel Lewek was fading. Like something grand is approaching the more he adds to the disturbing collage he’s steadily worked up into a mockery of what he’d once been, what he’d become, and what he was still to be.
There’s a sense of finality approaching with every bit of scrap that he can get his cartoony gloved hands upon. Stats: Published: Updated: Words: 118966 Chapters: 54/? Comments: 153 Kudos: 146 Bookmarks: 14 Hits: 5005 Alice Angel (Bendy and the Ink Machine).The Woolly Triplets (Bendy Crack-up Comics).The Projectionist (Bendy and the Ink Machine).Original Bendy and the Ink Machine Character(s).Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings.