BATIM: A Dangerous Path

Chapter 1: Henry

It was dark.
Cold. The air was freezing, Henry could barely see his breath forming in gray smoke as he ran. The dark seemed to close in on him as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. It... it was coming. Behind him. He could hear its footsteps, charging after him. Feeling a burst of fear, Henry darted ahead faster. He couldn't let it catch him. A snarl, like an ancient beast, sound from behind him. Drip. Drip. Drip. Something wet dripped down Henry's head, but he wiped it away and kept going. His heart rate increased. His feet-where had his shoe gone? Ah, didn't matter-he could feel something wet as he nearly tripped. The ground made slippery. Another snarl, and something suddenly tore through his shirt, claws sinking into his back as waves of hot fire shot through him. Henry let out a howl of pain....

Henry's head shot up suddenly, only to be stopped as a burst of pain shot through his skull. "Ow-shit!" Eyes blinked open as the animator glared at the pipe positioned directly over the old wooden desk he was sitting at. Still rubbing his head, though the pain was beginning to fade. "Damn pipe..." Henry grumbled, his eyes blinking multiple times as his desktop came into focus.

Papers were littered across it, as well as tacked up to the walls around it. Yellow with age, Henry could still make out the smiling faces staring back at him. Drawings of black and yellow, a reminder of better times. A petite Angel with flowing black hair and a halo above her head. A tall wolf in yellow overalls playing a clarinet. And a small, mischievous little demon with a big grin and curved black horns. Bendy...

Henry shook off the nostalgia and looked away from his old desk, his fingers automatically tracing the old carving under the papers, set deep into the wood. His name-Henry Stein. As he moved, pain shot through his back, making him wince. Ah... right. He touched it gingerly, feeling the long, jagged cuts that cut across his upper back. His shirt stuck to his back, warm and bloody. He'd better take care of that before anything else...

Henry stood up slowly and stretched out, then made his way down a run down hall. Taking the small satchel that was leaning against his legs. He barely payed attention to the rooms he passed-most doors were locked anyway. The walls and floor were pale yellow, etched in a pitch black that seemed to mock a place Henry had loved so much. He ran a hand down a wall as he walked-pale peach against pale yellow. Dark stains littered his fingers and palm, it looked out of place. Alien.

Henry tried not to think about it as he entered the big entrance room, pausing to look down an adjoining hallway. Yellowed posters of cartoons lined the walls, all the way down to a door at the end of the hallway. A small sign glowed above it. "Exit." Henry stared for a moment, then turned away with a sigh. He knew without even going down there-it was locked. It always was.

He made his way over to the sign on the far wall, the words "Joey Drew Studios" were visible along with three moving gears. Henry ignored it and knelt down, pulling a panel open that had been hidden into the wall. Henry pulled out a small, dusty box and closed the panel again. Thank god for Joey's lazy planning-the first aid kit had been hiding there for over 30 years. Henry opened it and began to go through the supplies.

Bandages-three sizes. A small bottle of alcohol. A couple rolls of tape. It wasn't much, but Henry would manage. He slowly twisted and took off his light brown T-shirt-the back was stained pretty heavily. Henry set it down on a nearby chair and took the small bottle, twisting the cap open before peering back at his wounds. Three nasty claw marks ran down his back. Henry closed his with a grimace but moved to pour some of the alcohol in the wound. He knew he had to clean it before bandaging it.

After his wound was clean and bandaged, Henry attempted to clean his shirt the best he could-which wasn't very well. Oh, well. Henry then  put his shirt back on and slung the satchel carefully over his shoulder after putting the medical supplies inside. He wasn't about to leave them-that would be idiotic. Besides, he knew he'd need them later on. Henry scowled at the thought.

How long has he been trapped here? Henry had no idea. It was so hard to tell the difference between night and day-it could be afternoon or the middle of the night for all he knew. There were no windows to speak of-no clocks to check, besides around the toy factory. But they all said different things, so that wasn't much help.

Henry gazed around the room, this mocking replica of a studio he'd loved and known so well. Well... only one thing left to do now. The only thing he COULD do.

It was time to turn on the machine.