The Builder

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Norman found himself in a void. He ought have been used to that, but usually he could see walls around him. Or, at the very least, floor. Instead, he stood in perfect nothingness. He tried to reach back for the door he'd come through, but there was no trace of it.

Alarm sparked his light. Where was the door? Was he stuck in here? What if he couldn't get out?

Norman growled at himself, "Agh, focus, Polk! You know what to do. Find this Husk thing and get something from it." He glanced around the black space, "Doesn't sound too hard... if I can find anything,"

"Ffffear not..."

A nauseating voice slithered through Norman's senses. It seemed to come from the darkness itself.

"I will guide yyyyou."

"Who's there?" Norman called, sweeping his light in every direction, "Show yourself!"

"Nnnno rushing. You want your tesssst? Try to survivvvvve!"

Whatever Norman was standing on vanished, plunging him into the infinite abyss. Far below, a light ignited. The light turned into recognizable wooden walls which rushed up at him, swallowing his view until his legs jarred onto solid ground.

Norman staggered, catching himself on a wall. The pain of the harsh impact glanced through his legs.

"Llllook around..." hissed the voice, still seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere, "What do you ssssssee?"

Norman vaguely recognized where he was. It was the back rooms in the Bendyland warehouse, where the defunct robot was. In fact, there sat the robot itself, propped up in a lounging position against the wall. The room itself was larger, making room for shelves of parts and scraps. There was no barred cell, instead, another workbench.

But perhaps the most stark difference was the design of the room itself. There weren't any sepia planks taking up every surface of wall and ceiling. In fact, there was very little wood at all. The floor was rough stone, and the walls were regular plaster, painted a dull grey and stained with soot and burn marks. Blueprints were tacked to a corkboard above the robot's table.

Norman found himself mesmerized by the blueprints.

Color.

Actual... color!

He approached the blueprints and draw his fingertips over them.

Blue. The paper was blue! After so long of only seeing sepia, black, and white... to see such a vibrant shade of blue!

"Mmmmmissing the point?" chided the voice.

"Shut up," said Norman, continuing to drink the sight of the blue paper.

"But things are going to get interestinnnnng!"

Hefty footsteps came stomping down the hall.

Norman jumped, seeking a place to hide.

"Ssssstay where you are," said the voice, "Watchhhhh."

Norman backed away from the bench and stood against the shelves against the opposite wall as someone rounded the corner.

The footsteps belonged to the steel-toed boots of a behemoth of a woman, arms toned with hardened muscle and fist clenched around a wrench. Her short brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and held with a deep green bandanna. A leather apron cinched around her waist and clinked as she moved, tools rattling around in the pockets. Loose jeans stained with grease and soot were cinched around her waist by a thick leather belt, and the cuffs were stuffed into her boots.

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