Memories

Chapter 8

This Angel was definitely about to learn.

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The Projectionist walked into the Angel's lair. He hated every second of it, but he had to do it. He muttered something and began walking forward, when something stopped him.

He looked down, surprised, when he saw a Striker hugging his leg. It looked up at him and squeaked. He sighed and picked it up, holding it as if it were a baby.

He kept it in his arms as he walked up to the window. The first thing he saw was his mask.

Of course she had it. But how the hell did she get it? She was far from the Music Department.

"Lovely to see you here, old friend," She was sitting on her seat, her legs crossed. She was staring at him, a slight grin on her face.

"Stop the shit. Where's Sammy." He demanded, walking closer to the window. "That I don't know.. He ran off after he agreed to the alliance." She waved dismissively.

He couldn't believe it. The musician actually agreed to it. Problems just keep on coming, huh.

Wait. What was that on her hand?

The Striker in his arms seemed to read his thoughts, and squeaked. It drew in the air with its finger, making the shape of Bendy's head.

Weird.. But not the weirdest thing he's seen. That wasn't always there. Sammy most likely had something to do with it.

"Listen." She started, snapping him out of his thoughts. His gaze went back to her. "I have a deal for you." She leaned forward.

Fuck that.

"I give you your beloved mask.. And you let me have Sammy for my own." She tilted her head, smiling. "He's an ideal ally. Very good dedication. And he can see everywhere in the studio."

Yeah, he already knew the composer was loyal. Really loyal. But what the Angel didn't seem to realize was that he was loyal to the Demon above all things.

If Bendy instructed him to break off the alliance, he would. If he instructed to dispose of her, Sammy would. He would do anything for his lord.

But it would be much better if she found that out for herself. So he decided to humor her.

"One thing before I possibly agree," He started. "You can.. have him.. But. You have to agree to not interfere with shit."

He had his own plans. Plans to fix the composer and help him remember. It was obvious that he didn't.

"N-" He cut her off. "Not done. If you interfere with anything, and I mean anything." He pressed himself up against the glass, glaring at her. "I will make you regret it. I'll find a way to have all of your little 'minions' turn on you. They listen to ME." The Striker in his arms was proof enough. Enough to back his statement up.

She couldn't believe this. This is exactly why she couldn't stand him. And he couldn't stand her. They were very well aware of how they felt about each other.

Now it was her turn to humor him. What's the worst he could do?

"Fine." She said. "We have a deal." She stood up, walking over to her podium. She grabbed the mask and opened her door, tossing it out. Striker swiftly jumped out of his arms and caught it, almost falling and getting squished by it in the process. She slammed the door, causing it to squeak out of fear.