To Twist the Script

He found his voice and screamed out for the animator just a moment too late, a fragment of a second after the door shut with a finite click. Knees slid down onto his makeshift floor, unable to process that he had just seen color for the first time -- more concerned over the devastation of Henry walking out that door..

..And not looking back.

It was hard not to feel his lines breaking as the ink started to run down his face freely, his pie cut eyes almost going off model with how much they had shrunk. Henry hadn't even glanced back. Hadn't turned his head, hadn't said a word -- the man had ignored his very existence ever since they had gotten to this place. He didn't even think Henry realized he had been holding a sheet of paper. Horns knocked against the invisible window of his paper cage, eyes closing, fingers tips digging into the wall..

"And you," Joey spoke directly to the toon. "I knew he was up to something..." He moved, huffing as he sat in the wheelchair. It took a moment of fighting with the chair itself -- banging it into the wall a couple of times -- before he finally got it to turn around.

The little devil didn't respond.

"...but another Bendy? Moving on paper, no less..." He rolled over, picking the scrap up off the floor.

That's when Bendy fell over. Hands flailed to catch his fall, and reality hit him in the funny bone as he winced and realized exactly where he was right now. Feet slid across the floor in fast repetitive motions as he pushed himself up, jumping upwards as he scrambled to get to the farthest point on the line away from the man. A gloved hand wrapped around his hit elbow, the physical pain temporarily taking him out of his own mind as he shivered.

Sitting in front of him, staring down at him, was the source of all that had gone wrong for him and for Henry -- and the offending man was holding him.

Even had there been a way to do something in his current situation, Bendy didn't think he could muster the mental strength, let alone the stamina, to do anything about it. Not as he currently was, bleeding through lines that had been caringly scratched into paper time and time again throughout their journey.

Not without Henry.

"I knew that one was a strange one.... Thomas wasn't lying, after all.." He gave a rough chortle, eyes crinkling with the hint of a smile as he stared at the little Bendy on the page.

Said Bendy was melting, but he couldn't tell if it was from his connection to Henry being forcibly cut off, the anguish of the animator's image as he walked out the door, or from the terror currently consuming him in the presence of the studio's founder. Creativity was his downfall in this instance, thinking of everything Joey Drew could do to him, standing on a thread as he was.

Thinking of everything he had already done to Henry. Even aborting the thought caused him to slide back down onto the ground, unable to stand from the shaking that was turning his legs into noodles.

Joey hummed, bringing his face closer and all Bendy could do was curl up, pressing his head into his knees. "I think you'd be a wonderful addition to the story I'm creating."

No . Bendy cowered. I don't want anything to do with you. Henry, please... His arms tightened around his legs. What he wouldn't give to have Henry come bursting through the door to get Joey away from him.

The old man ignored his distress. "Yes... don't worry. You'll be back in the studio soon, right where you belong... Where you've always belonged."

"No!" Bendy shouted reflexively, standing up as he stared at Joey with a glare that could rival even Tom's stare downs. However, his will faltered and he cringed away from the front of the page. The hard look the old codger gave him was hard to ignore. Tight crow lines framed his eyes and the corners of his lips. They were lines that suggested the man had been a big smiler his whole life, full of laughter and cheer.