An Inkwell's Stain //BATDR Fanfiction\\ [Male Reader]

Chapter Four [Wanted: Alive]

'Wilson knows your purpose?' You thought out loud when you noticed the posters draping the ruined walls. 'How long has that... has he been here for?' Anger was rising in you for what that man did, but you composed yourself before your emotions got the better of you. 'The man who killed the ink demon... an ink demon? Sounds like it's better that it's dead...'

Your mother found it funny and would always be teasing you for whenever she caught you thinking aloud. It was a common thing you did that you couldn't really help, so long as you were alone. If people were around, you generally had the decency to just listen and be quiet. Normally kids now a days are to be seen and not heard, but your mother always loved hearing your thoughts and queries. Deep down in your heart was a painful ache. You just missed your mother so much... and yet you were here.

A sudden primal urge took over you. It was as if determination was pounding itself through your veins, overtaking the ink. You made a promise to yourself, and to your mother. 'No matter what happens, I will go home. I promise,' you said a loud, allowing yourself to be sharp and proud, telling the world around you this pledge.

You grasped the rungs of the ladder with a newly found determination and hoisted your body up, surprisingly heavier from the ink coursing through you. Even though you were filled with perseverance, absolute fear was still churning in your body, unable to sit still. But as the note earlier said, "Fear only what you may become, and banish it away.", you pushed the fright down deep and held a purposeful face while you climbed.

The only light in the floor above was from a few candles dripping wax onto the table. Yet another note was a strewn-on top of it, with folds and creases covering it. It read, "Geez! You'd think I was drowning kittens the way these people are lookin' at me! I've never seen such disappointment in a person's eyes." You felt a smile creep in on your face. From a young age you had always adored when people used metaphors and similes in the way they spoke, it always made you imagine what they were saying better and change your perspective.

"But this is the way of things, if management can't pay their bills, then the bank takes the goodies back." 'So, they went bankrupt? Is this Joey Drew Studios?' No one answered you. "Still, it does break me a bit knowing how much I loved them old cartoons this place used to make. Oh well, times change. Life moves on." It was signed by a man by the name of "Telly Wester" who you certainly didn't know of. You pocket the note, folding it along the creases it had.

Beside where the note was is a strange object, which you found to be a music box. Your inner child shone as you picked it up and twisted the winder. Placing it down, you heard a jingling melody play and flow through the air, with an Alice Angel poking out from the lid of the box and twirling around. Even in such a horrible and ruined place, that little piece of happiness was worth every second for you.

Choosing to move on, you keep walking, only to find a dead end. You looked around, and eventually found a small break in the wall where a path leads, so you crouched down and headed through. On the other side, you found more of Wilson's face staring at you, and what seemed to be a locker. Walking over to the locker and feeling its side, you noticed it was made of metal. Yet it looked the same as everything else.

A screech of a microphone erupted around you, making you let out a sharp yelp as you crammed your hand into a fist on the locker's surface. 'Attention! Children of the Machine!' A very familiar voice called. Your eyes narrowed in disgust. 'This is Wilson. Your friend... your protector.' Protector? Him of all people? 'For two hundred and eleven days, you've lived without the Ink Demon haunting your steps. I banished him away, tore his body in two.'

Is this Ink Demon that bad of a thing to have such a fate? You looked down at the floorboards, thinking. Probably. It is a demon after all. 'In return, I ask just a little favour... Among you, there is a stranger. A young man,' you froze. 'Bring him to me.' His voice cut off and disappeared, leaving you to stew in flying thoughts. Anger and confusion pelted through you, making you grip your tighter in anguish. 'Why?' Was all you could say.

You let yourself calm once more and continue forward, trying hard to not get distracted, only to find yet another note. Because you just wanted to keep going and find a way out, you decide to pocket it without reading it and seeing what it had in store later. You keep heading forward.

Up ahead is an ink pool, which makes you slow down to examine it. 'Why on earth is there just a puddle of ink with a stream running into it from above? Is there a leak or something? What would that much ink be flooding from?' You sigh and slowly ease your feet into it, which you now realise was rather silly since your entire being is saturated in the stuff anyway.

Your movement was slowed down quite a lot once you stepped in, which you take note of. This place seems hellish enough, so if I'm being chased by something bad, I should probably stay away from inky areas, huh?

After climbing up the spiralling hall, a note was yet again found left on a box, a lot messier than the others, with hand smudges all along its edges. You took and placed into your pocket. As you walked, there was anything but silence, you could hear machine whirring and grinding in the background, and a slight sound of a familiar song on the radio... somewhere. As you walked forward, a rolling door started to open before you, startling you with its loud noise.

However, what was seemingly waiting for you was a whole lot worse. When you walked through the rolling door, something fell and hung out of the roof, making you scream at the top of your small and hurting lungs. A horrifying creature was hanging by cords and wire boards in the ceiling's roof... and looked to be dead. You weren't exactly surprised of it being dead anyway, with the ink splatters and wounds, eyes sewn shut and limbs broken in awkward ways.

Your head started to hurt. What is this place? I'm so confused... A different poster glinted in the tiniest particles of light, making you turn to see what was in your peripheral vision. It was a poster of "The Butcher Gang", which were a team of antagonists from the Bendy shorts back in the day. You remember your mother drawing them a few times, but you didn't exactly like them. Now looking back at the bizarre creature, you could see quite a lot of resemblances with it and "Charley", who was the head of the gang and their misdeeds.

A wave of dizziness overtook you as you thought. 'Why is he here? Alive? Well... not really, but...' you couldn't finish your sentence, because your head was throbbing in worry. Calm down, Y/N. Don't think too much. You relaxed your shoulders and allowed yourself to calm down. This isn't real.

But denial won't get you anywhere down here.