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Joey Is Spoken Of In Every Tape

Maybe Henry Knowing Others Was A Mistake

And Possibly The Fact He Wanted To Help

That He Only ed Because He Puts Joey Above Himself

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NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

WARNINGS

Mentions of death

Angst

Mentions of being manipulated

KEY

/*insert line*/ = italicized

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“Joey, mind if-?”

Henry’s question gets cut off with a simple wave of the hand.

“Stein! I need assistance!”

“Can it-?”

Once again his request is ignored in favor of the studio owner tapping on his desk.

“Pipes weaving in and out of the walls.”

“Mr. Drew, please-”

Joey walks around the space to stand beside the animator.

“I’m only slightly worried about the danger potential.”

“Only slight-?”

Another plan is shifted around as the taller hums.

“Yep, this’ll work. Thank you, Henry.”

“But, I-”

A hand is placed on his shoulder.

“Now, for the real reason I asked you here.”

“You didn’t-”

Henry stares up at the person who controls his fate.

“You see, there’s been a need of a few...changes.”

“Change-?”

He screams when the open door swallows him whole out of curtesy from Joey Drew shoving him inside.

“Oh Henry.”

Joey, what is going-?

The thought isn’t even allowed to be finished out of shock seeing a near insane smile looking down on him.

“This is for your own good.

Wait-!

With that the door slams shut to plunge the young adult into darkness.

Then a sudden flash of light.

The main room of Joey Drew’s Studio.

Teaming with life.

Joey Drew is the owner.

He stands where finished animations are projected, an idea he implemented to motivate workers, encourage business partners to on the business’ success.

Joey Drew is the demon.

Wally Franks is the janitor.

He walks around the space with a keen look, attempting to be productive in having the workspaces clean while so many different people interact.

Wally Franks is the guide.

Thomas Connor is the repairer.

He stands on a ladder in order to reach the pipes that have allowed ink to escape, his clothing stained by the liquid as one final bolt is tightened.

Thomas Connor is contributor.

Sammy Lawrence is the composer.

He crosses the opening with his head down, eyes reading sheet music as he moves toward the stairs and get back to work in the music department.

Sammy Lawrence is the prophet.

Norman Polk is the projectionist.

He finishes setting up the projector to allow faint scenes of Bendy dancing to appear in the brightly lit room, nodding to Joey with his job completed.

Norman Polk is the misplaced.

Susie Campbell is the actress.

She stands off to the side, chin up and eyes searching, but she’s following the other two down to the music department as well, never needing to be called when her part is coming.

Susie Campbell is the angel.

Jack Fain is the lyrist.

He leans against a wall until he spots Sammy, making the man quickly follow after his coworker, needing assistance on words to his music.

Jack Fain is the casualty.

Shawn Flynn is the distributor.

His hands are holding a can of bacon soup, a rolled up poster, and a Bendy doll, speaking toward Joey about the creations made and who’s purchasing them.

Shawn Flynn is the ignorant.

Grant Cohen is the ant.

He stands at the hallway’s opening, holding papers as if reading them, only to have his gaze locked on Joey with a seemingly permanent scowl.

Grant Cohen is the collected.

Henry is the-

The man screams when the sound of a scratching record suddenly fills his ears.

The room around him seems to pause and jump, as if reality is a reel on a projector.

A reel about to be ripped after getting placed incorrectly.

Henry yells as he falls through a black void, reaching to grab onto something, to keep from losing himself.

Nothing works as he’s thrown back into the blinding light, falling to the floor and landing with a cry of pain.

“But I tell you!”

...who-?

“If one more of these pipes burst?”

Pipes, bursting?

“I’m outtah heah!”

Wally grins as he ends his tape, leaving it on the shelf where he originally found it. No one will ever know it was messed with.

Not when it had been randomly placed there by Joey in the first place. He assumes it’s to give the studio an aesthetic feel. It sure needs one the way it looks, how it’s built. Seems as if someone will jump out and-

“HOLY-!”

Henry leaps back as the man his age and hand holding a mop yells in fright.

”I’m sorry for scaring you! I hadn’t-!”

“Lahence! Don’t /scare me/ like that!”

”L-?”

“Sorry, not sorry.”

Henry stares. Stares at the person standing in front of him, looking right at the animator.

No, not at him.

Behind him.

“Goofing around I see,” Sammy comments, eyebrow raised when he spots the janitor had apparently been speaking to no one. “Although speaking to yourself is actually the first sign you’re losing it, Franks.”

“You’re the one to talk.”

”Please, sir, listen to me!”

“Enough. I need you to help clean up the ink from my office.”

”No, don’t leave, please!”

Henry is left, however. The two don’t even hesitate. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.

But how? /Why/? What happened? What /is/ happening? A look down at himself and he seems, transparent. As if he really /doesn’t/ exist.

What did Joey do to him? And what he saw before, these people had been a part of the scene.

Everyone working. Everyone talking. But they were unfamiliar faces. He didn’t, doesn’t recognize anyone.

“Come along, Franks.”

Franks. And Lawrence, Sammy Lawrence.

“I don’t get how the pipe in your office is /always/ the one needing fixing and getting fixed,” Wally comments.

“Right, because I should be writing Joey a conspiracy theory about the ink out to get me personally.”

“Exactly!”

“Never will I ever be caught stooping down to your so-called intelligence, Wally.”

Wally.

Henry races after the two as they talk, though more so the younger being insulted. Sammy isn’t told off, however, almost ignored even as the conversation continues.

Ink, pipes. Joey only mentioned pipes once, and that was before /this/ happened. Whatever /this/ is.

The animator stops as the unfamiliar faces continue walking, dread filling his heart they don’t notice him leaving, confirming he isn’t really here. But he can’t follow. Not when he doesn’t understand.

The only person he knows is Joey. The rest are strangers, and therefore distractions in his attempt to get out of this.

“Sammy Lawrence, you better not be rescheduling my recording again.”

Henry stumbles away from the angered woman, head shaking as he starts running.

“Susie, I already told you, you’re working with /me/ today!”

A man with a fedora.

“I have no business with you, Jack Fain.”

“Ms. Campbell!”

Henry screams as he trips through someone, a tall man who looks unpleased, not wanting anyone near him or anything to be told to him.

And he doesn’t notice. Doesn’t notice the young animator gasping for breath when it becomes clear he’s...nothing.

“Will all of you /shut up/,” Grant growls. “I don’t need this useless banter and squabbling echoing through these halls.”

Henry doesn’t pay attention. He’s left to sit by the corner of two hallways, despair filling him as the man steps /through/ him to walk away.

”J-Joey! Joey, help-!”

“What’s the problem, Grant?”

Joey Drew raises an eyebrow as his ant glares daggers.

“You, Joey. But while that’s unfixable, it’s the fact you’ve hired /children/.”

Joey?

“They’re necessary children, Cohen.”

“Apparently.”

Henry stiffens when Joey suddenly looks down at him. At /him/.

”Joey?”

“Henry! Surprised to find you down here.”

”Joey, what-?”

“Drew, are you-?”

“Go on, Grant,” the studio owner shoos, kneeling beside open air.

Kneeling in front of Henry.

“Business matters.”

The young adult watches him walk away, breathing speeding up when it’s just him and Joey. The man he became partners with. The man who didn’t listen. The man who did /this/.

”Joey, what’s going on?”

“Ugh, that’s not annoying at all,” the man mutters, waving a hand across the space Henry /should/ be cowering. But of course he’s on a different plane of existence. Causes his voice to sound distorted. “Hold on, I’ll fix it.”

”Joey, WAIT-!”

Gravity shifts.

The void returns.

A desk.

Henry’s breath is stolen away from the free-fall, silently screaming as he’s dropped a hundred feet above the desk of Joey Drew, plummeting.

Then something appears, catching his miniscule form before he slams into the unforgiving wood now the size of a football field to him.

His shaking limbs from fear can’t do anything as his platform then curls around him, tears escaping when it becomes clear he’s completely at Joey’s mercy even more than before.

“Hmm, better, though not the best.”

The animator slowly looks up, and he chokes on air at seeing the man causing his misery a hundred times his size, possibly even bigger.

He holds the person claimed to need this little ‘talk’ in the palm of his hand, small enough to manipulate with a single finger.

Henry’s entire world, his life, literally in the hands of someone he had begun to doubt long before shown what exactly he was capable of, his plans for his animator.

“So quiet, Henry.”

There’s a scream as the back of his shirt is pinched to yank him into the air, Joey dangling the young adult above a height that can easily kill him.

Those eyes holding so much more than the concern given to his employee, so called friend struggling with panic.

Of course this must be quite shocking, but it’s the only way they can speak without distractions, and without the animator running away.

“Didn’t you have a question, Stein?”

A question never to be answered, only to have the sentence cut off and never asked to repeat it.

An answer that clearly won’t be a straight one, dancing around reality like they are now, Henry simply along for the ride.

His world essentially /gone/ now with the representation stating Joey has all of the power, and has always had it no matter what was said.

“I’ve gone and broken my toy, haven’t I?”

Joey only sounds slightly unnerved by the revelation, to have the person he’s partners with on this entire thing to have only been a pawn.

Not only that, but the fact Henry seems out of order, only staring with tearful eyes and a gaze of what spells ‘betrayal’.

His face is only laughed at as he’s lowered onto the stable desk, Joey lying on his crossed arms with an amused grin.

“You get it now, don’t you?”

A poke at his chest sends the young adult stumbling.

”You’re nothing.”

A threatening smirk has him turning to race away.

"I never cared about you.”

Henry falls to his knees as his legs give out.

”You’re nothing more than someone to use.”

A shadow descends upon him.

”Please, Joey...”

The door opening to reveal a shadowed figure standing at the top of the stairs with a white light shinning behind it.

“Henry?”

Joey.

Footsteps dart to where the young adult sobs into his hands.

“Henry! How long have you been down here!”

Long enough.

Hands reach out to help him to his feet.

“Come on. You idiot, I don’t even know how you-”

NO!

Joey hesitates when the animator yanks himself away.

“Henry?”

”Leave me alone.”

The two stand up seprately.

“Stein, what has gotten into you?”

”I’m leaving.”

Henry marches up the stairs as Joey stares.

“For the day?”

”Good bye, Drew.”

A hand grabs his hand.

“Henry, wait, you can’t-!”

”I won’t let you use me, Joey.”

The animator stalks away with a glare.

“TRAITOR!”

”Manipulator.”

The taller form races after him with venom dripping from his voice.

“I thought you’d actually let us make this a success!”

”I thought I’d actually be your partner.”

It’s too late.

“Henry, if you leave, you can /never/ come back.”

”Good.

”I never wanted to be here in the first place.”