It reminded him of better times, more innocent times. It reminded him of when he’d first been created, of playing pranks, or sitting in Henry’s corner and drawing. It wasn’t that he couldn’t or anything like that, he was tall enough, but it reminded him of some many good things. The book, record and cog were all easy enough to place back on their pedestals, but it took Bendy some time to put the toy in place. It meant he had to do a bit of a juggling act with the record and book in order to carry everything, but Bendy was able to leave the room quickly, trotting back to the Break Room once more to finish setting everything up. Luckily, it didn’t take him very long, as it was sitting propped up against the wall behind the doorframe. With a great reluctance, the toon forced himself to look away from the dreaded machine, searching the area for that missing cog. Shifting Sammy’s record and Joey’s ‘book’ to one hand, Bendy carefully started to trudge his way around the machine, not wanting to take his eyes off of it in case it – impossibly – started to work, but also knowing he had to find the last item. Or some backwards sort of vacuum cleaner. It almost looked like an overweight elephant with a trunk ready to spurt water everywhere. The main difference, of course, was the monstrosity that sat in the centre under blackened pipes. Just like every other room, it was lit only by artificial light, the floorboards were splattered with patched of ink, and there were pages of sketches pinned and stuck to the wall. He had to find that last ‘offering’, even if that meant entering this nightmare of a room. Taking a steadying breath, Bendy stepped into the room, his boot making a dull thunk against the bare floorboards. He had once wondered how it had made so much ink, but now he didn’t care he just wanted to save Boris. Now though it sat there, silent, with no sign of a mechanic, and no Joey, just a shell of what it used to be, and yet all the more frightening. ![]() ![]() Bendy didn’t want to know what exactly it was that had brought him to life, but the Ink Machine had always felt… wrong somehow. Sure, it had brought the cartoons he and Henry had created to life, brought Bendy into the human world, but it was still just a machine really. He used to spend hours in there, staring at the machine like it was some kind of miracle. No one liked that room, not even the toons. The Ink Machine had always been running, churning out an ever flowing supply of ink for reasons Bendy never really fully understood, making an ever present churning clanking noise and, every so often, breaking, meaning someone would have to fix it and ink would just spill everywhere.
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