Archive of Our Own ^beta

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I watched as heavy boots waded through the ink as the Projectionist chased the old man. His screeching hurt my head, why didn’t he catch the man already?

“THIEF,” the Projectionist shouted as he just barely missed the running man.

The older man fled into a Heavenly Box. What a fool. I peered over the edge of the wall as the Projectionist crept closer to the box. I took that as my sign to leave. Guess now I have something to talk about with Jack.

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“Sheep, sheep, sheep, it’s time for sleep. In the morning you may wake, or in the morning, you’ll be dead,” I spoke into the microphone with a grin. My Lord will love this tender sheep, I’m sure of it! Maybe he’ll finally set me free from this horrid inky prison. Just maybe…I’ll be human again…maybe.

The ink veins spread across the room, seeping it’s way into the booth I was in. I wasn’t expecting that, but as they say the Lord works in mysterious ways.

I frowned as my sheep kept struggling, didn’t he understand he was a sacrifice?

A loud growl grabbed my attention. Hesitantly, I turned. My Lord stood before me in all his glory, and he looked pissed. I begged my Lord to stay back, but who am I to order my Lord around? Of course, he wouldn’t obey me, who am I but a measly prophet?

My Lord was gracious enough to not send me back to the well of ink. So here I am, a barely conscious ink blob. Honestly, I might as well call myself a damn searcher at this point. However, unlike those poor souls, I have a purpose! To serve my Lord, my dear savior… I haven’t been a very good prophet, have I?

My Lord hurting me must mean something, right? I don’t understand why. I was trying to be a good prophet. Sacrificing is a part of being a prophet, right? Goodness, what should I do?

I glanced down at my mangled form. Perhaps I should start by allowing myself to heal. I knew crawling back to my sanctuary would be painstakingly slow, while also being quite inefficient. So what in the world should I do?

I looked around the ink stained booth. A dark cylinder caught my eye. Bacon soup! Of course, why hadn’t I thought of it sooner?

I dragged my body as best I could towards the can on the ground. My hands shook as I tried to pry it open. I cursed as my injured hands just continued to be abused by the harsh tin. Lucky for me, I think I saw a loose wire near here. I could use that to pry open the tab.

So again, I used my arms to pull myself towards the exposed wire. I’m really hoping that wire isn’t a live one. I hissed as the wire shocked me, my luck hasn’t turned just yet.

I drank the disgusting contents of the can. The horrid taste was merely the cost for salvation! I could feel my ink hardening, my body slowly regaining its shape.

I laid there for a few minutes. My limbs ache and I felt nauseous. The ink pumps weren’t helping either. All the noise was about to give me a headache, but I couldn’t force myself to move. I should use this time to think of what my Lord would want. So he doesn’t want a sacrifice, and I’m fairly certain he is impartial to the shrines, or at the very least doesn't hate them. He never takes the soup, so he doesn’t respond to food. My Lord, please give me some guidance. All I wish is to please you…

I flinched as a lost one fell through the roof. It’s body made a disgusting splattering sound as it hit the wooden floors.

Was that the sign? What could it mean?

“Help me,” the lost one croaked while it reached for me.

I will admit, I was very squeamish at first. However, I know this is the sign. Frankly, I think I can interpret it. My Lord wants me to help his subjects! Why, it’s so obvious I can’t believe it took me so long to finally understand!

I stood up with such vigor, the poor lost one flinch. Oops. “Don’t worry, my little sheep. I will help,” I proclaimed with a smile. For My Lord I will save all his wonderful subjects!

I scurried around looking for bacon soup to feed the injured Lost One. I knew bacon soup could help with injuries but thick ink would be so much better. I shook my head as I picked up a few bacon soup cans from the shelf. I have to think positively.

I made my way back to the booth and the Lost One was still there. Perfect! I used a knife to pry open the lids and handed one to it. The Lost One blinked owlishly, not taking the can.

I frowned at the tilting head it was doing. “Eat it, it’ll help you regenerate,” I offered the can again.

The Lost One took the bacon soup with shaky hands. It struggled to down the can , but ultimately it did manage to finish the cans. Its leaky ink slowly began to harden into a more solid shape. A job well done! My Lord will be proud.

“T-thank you,” it whispered.

I grinned and responded, “Don’t thank me. Thank our Lord and Savior, Bendy! I hope this will help you realize that we must believe in our Lord!”

The Lost One stared at me for a few seconds before nodding slowly. How wonderful! I helped the Lost One with its injuries and restored belief in my Lord! Joyous day it is!

Chapter Text

I was whistling a tune while carrying a few Lord cutouts. I was thinking of placing a few more in the sewer area. While it did stink to high hell, it had ink. And I’m certain my Lord loves the ink he is made out of.

I placed one of the cutouts near the entrance of the sewer. I couldn’t leave though, not when I have two more cutouts to place. So I ventured forward. I noticed a small space with a table and a violin. Perfect! I placed the cutout so it was leaning on the chair. I still have one left so I continued on my way.

I stopped as I noticed a large crate. Perfect! I walked closer towards the crate.

“H-help me,” a breathless voice called out.

I stopped. Staring at the crate. Huh. Was something inside the crate?

“I-I’m underneath,” whispered the voice.

Oh. I bent over and grabbed the sides of the crate. With all my force I tried lifting it. Sadly, it didn’t budge. I sighed and looked around the room for clues.

I walked around the large cylinders and noticed a lever. I pulled it down and up went the crate. I walked back towards where the crate was.

I squinted trying to make out what was under there. A hand shot out from the inky floor. I jumped back narrowly avoiding its grasp.

“Help me up,” it cried out. I felt nervous. What if it pulled me back?

No! I can’t think like this. I have to help my Lord, I will help every one of his creatures. I grasped its wrist and pulled it up.

The battered searcher clung desperately at my arms as I dragged it back towards the infirmary. I carefully laid it on one of the many cots that were scattered about.

While it rested I walked to the shelf to gather some bacon soup. I wonder if I could find some think ink nearby, surely that would be more helpful tha-

“AGHHH,” a loud groan interrupted my thoughts. Right, I still had to tend to that searcher. With a tad bit more urgency I made my way back to it. I pried open the cans quickly and offered the thick soup to it.

Still clutching its side it guzzled down the contents of the can down.

“Thanks, man,” it spoke, a smile gracing its barely visible features.

I straightened my back out and responded, “ Of course, you are one of our Lord’s great creations after all.” The searcher tilted it’s head.

“...Alright… Well, I’m Jack, Jack Fain. What’s your name, kind stranger?”

Hmm, so the searcher has a name. Jack didn’t seem too interested in the idea of my Lord. How, unfortunate. Nevertheless, I answered, “My name is Sammy, Sammy…the prophet. Our Lord’s prophet, yes.”

Jack held out its hand, how civilised for a searcher. I shook it’s inky outstretched hand. “So, Sammy, how are ya’?”

A small smile tugged on my lips, “I’m doing quite well. All thanks to my Lord. And you?”

Jack mirrored my smile, “Just fine, well, as fine as I can be. So, what got you running around the sewers. Not many searches go there, and much less… Lost Ones?”

I chuckled at Jack, “I am not a Lost One. I’m a prophet! Our Lord Bendy’s prophet. I was just adding more cardboard cutouts of his holyness around the studio. That’s all.”

Jack gave me an unsure look, “Uh huh… Why are you putting them in the sewer though?”

“Because my Lord is made of ink, and the sewer is filled with ink,” I answered diligently.

Jack wasn’t convinced. He squinted up at me from his bed. “Right…”

Chapter Text

“Why are you so obsessed with that demon anyways,” Jack questioned, staring at me.

Jack seemed in deep thought. Sammy was tall, lithe, and quite awkward looking. One of his suspenders looked as if it would slip off his shoulder at any moment. Similarly, the cut-out of Bendy was tilted to the left almost looking as if it would simply fall to the floor. Lastly, a single glance towards Sammy’s ink-covered pants would show an array of mismatched patches that covered his pants. He looked homeless in all honesty. I wondered how this lanky creature survived so long alone, Jack thought as he eyed Sammy down.

“Well , you see, he will set us free. I am sure of it,” I responded in a matter of fact tone.

Jack leaned on the large cylinder to his right, “Right…”

I nodded without hesitation, “Anyways, how did you get stuck underneath the crate?”

Jack’s posture immediately shifted, his back rounded more as he slumped down, “This guy was trying to take a valve in my hand and then he crushed me underneath the crate when I wouldn’t give it to him.”

I shook my head, “How horrible,” I paused. Maybe this was the sheep I tried sacrificing? “Say Jack, can you describe the person who crushed you,” I continued.

Jack nodded, “Yeah, no problem. He was a human. Very distinct. He was white, had dark hair that had some gray streaks in it and was wearing a beige suit.”

I nodded, “I think I know exactly who you are talking about. I just had a run in with him not too long ago. Did he have a red bowler hat?”

Jack straightened up, “No! That’s MY hat. He stole it from me.” I stared at Jack. Perhaps I had to help this one by getting his hat back, he did seem quite upset…

“I will help you get your hat back. I promise,” I told Jack sincerely, “Do you know where he was headed?”

Jack shook his head, “Unfortunately, no. I think he might be headed down to the lower levels.”

I nodded, “Would you like to come with me and retrieve your hat?”

Jack’s back straightened, “Yes, hell yeah… Gimme a second.”

I watched as Jack’s inky form dripped down from the white infirmary bed. His body sludged forward. “Where are we off to,” Jack asked.

I frowned, “Honestly, I think we should go down by Alice Angel’s. She has eyes everywhere, if somebody was hiding, she’d know exactly where.”

Jack groaned, “Jeez, is that really the first place we should go? Shouldn’t we check something a little safer?”

I shook my head, “You see. This…human, who is running around isn’t exactly good at staying out of trouble. I have a feeling he’d stumble into Alice sooner rather than later.”

Jack sighed, “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess we’d better get going…”
We made our way down to the elevator. Its tall imposing frame hid its instability. “To floor 9, I guess,” I spoke aloud. Jack stared at the elevator buttons.

“There’s ink on the buttons already,” he pointed out.

I pressed the button with the fresher looking ink, Level 14.

The elevator hissed as it began the descent down to the lower levels. I couldn’t help but shiver. I knew those lower levels were dangerous. I just don’t how dangerous. I gulped and glanced at Jack.

“I’m not going down there,” Jack interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

I rub my arm, trying to self-soothe, “It’s alright, I will. My Lord will protect me, I have faith in him.”

Jack looked at me as if I was crazy, “Right…”