Leitmotif (Sammy X Reader fic)

1

   Dawn light pressed against the outside of 'Joey Drew Studios,' it was early morning and Y/n's breath was visible in the cold air. It was mid-autumn, 1963, 6:58 AM. The sky was clear and the few clouds drifted slowly to the horizon. It was a good day for some urban exploration, and Y/n has been planning to come here for a few weeks. Checking their bag one last time, they took a step towards the doors and entered.
   Immediately, the smell of mildew and ink hit their nose like a train, the building was incredibly rundown, ink dripped from the ceiling and coated parts of the floor. Y/n hesitated for a moment, but pressed onward. Each step had a cartoonishly loud creak accompanying it, the sound of rats scuttling through the walls, lights buzzing, ink dripping, clicking, popping- All made up the noises of the building. 
   Searching through their bag, Y/n pulled out their flashlight and clicked it on. There were lights, but it was not at all well lit. Dark corners of the rooms seemed to stare back at Y/n, sending shivers up their spine. Rats scuttled to and fro across the floors, and cartoon cutouts decorated the deserted studio. All abandoned places were creepy, but this place seemed to be overkill at this point. Fiddling with some door handles, most of them didn't open, except one. A small closet with a radio, desk, shelf and a few posters. 
   Suddenly, after the door shut, the studio was completely silent. Not the steps of a rat, not the drip of the ink- Nothing. It was like Y/n had gone deaf, but they could hear their breathing. After about a minute, loud, wet stomping faintly echoed through the halls outside the closet. Closer, they continued, closer, louder. Soon enough they sounded like they were right on the other side of the door. Looking down, Y/n locked the door. The footsteps paused, they held their breath. Scraping sounded on the door, like something was scratching it, and the doorknob wiggled furiously and stopped after a few seconds. Y/n listened closely- something outside the door was still breathing.
   It felt like hours, but it was only maybe a few minutes, when the footsteps continued in the other direction. Soon enough, the noises of the studio continued once more and Y/n cautiously peered outwards. Looking at the back of the door, large ink splatters covered it. I gotta get out of here. Y/n thought to themselves. Luckily, the entrance was not that far from the closet, and they were able to rush over to the door.
   Struggling with the door handle, Y/n desperately tried to get it open, but no matter what it wouldn't budge. They were in tears at this point, This was a mistake, this was such a mistake, curse this damned place- I just want out!
   They were making so much noise they didn't realize everything went silent again, only when the footsteps sounded behind them did they notice. 
   Whipping around, Y/n looked up to see a tall lumbering figure at the end of the entrance-way. It looked like a twisted version of the cutouts scattered through the building. In a blur, it lunged but the weight of Y/n and it caused the rotted floorboards to collapse beneath them, sending them both crashing deeper into the studio.

A loud tone rang in their ears as they faded back into consciousness. Sitting up, Y/n looked around the scene. It was dark, the only light in the room was from the hole in the ceiling above and the flashlight they had been carrying earlier. Although, a small glint caught their eye. A well-used axe glinted in the darkness of the room. Standing up on shaky, bruised legs, Y/n wobbled over and picked it up. Continuing to the other side of the room, they grabbed their bag and hung it over their shoulder.
   Stumbling down the steps, they looked up and read the sign above 'Utility Shaft 9.' Y/n grumbled to themselves and kept going until the bottom. Right before a turn, a small shelf decorated with candles, cutouts and bowls with bold, hand written lettering above that said 'He will set us free.' Turning the corner, a tape recorder sat at a desk. Out of curiosity, Y/n set it to play..

Click!
"He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me.
The figure of ink that shines in the darkness.
I see you, my savior. I pray you hear me.

Those old songs, yes, I still sing them.
For I know you are coming to save me.
And I will be swept into your final loving embrace.

But, love requires sacrifice.
Can I get an amen?"
Click!

"I said, can I get an amen?" A clearer voice rang out, sending chills up Y/n's spine. "Who's there?" They shouted to the haunting studio. Gathering their courage, they pressed forward once again, jumping at every creak, yelping at every rat. Soon enough they came to another one of the cutouts with.. some sort of sigil behind it. "Well, that's welcoming" they muttered to themselves.
   Coming to a hallway full of ink, they considered trying to go back, they decided to keep going. Maybe whoever they heard could help them. Speaking of the devil, while wading through the corridor a dark figure holding one of the cutouts stumbled by the doorway, singing a rhyme to itself. "Sheep, sheep, sheep, it's time for sleep. Rest your head. It's time for bed. In the morning you may wake or in the morning you'll be dead." Wading through at a quicker pace to keep up with them, Y/n shouted to them "Hello? Who are you- Can you help me?" Turning the corner outside of the corridor where it was heading, was just a dead end with another cut out.
   Y/n paused for a moment, processing the situation "God, It's only been- what- a day and i'm already going insane.." they murmured to themselves and continued. Coming to a gate with a lever, Y/n took a deep breath and opened the gate. When it opened there was a boarded up doorway, which they cleared relatively easily with the axe. The room was pitch black, the only illumination was from Y/n's dim flashlight. Stumbling around the room, they came to a flooded stairwell with a lever at the top. Flipping it, the room lit up with a welcoming yellow glow. Distorted cheery music played through old speakers in the corners, and a gate on the other side of the room slowly lifted upwards. Stepping out of the stairwell and turning their flashlight off. A large sign read in bold letters 'Joey Drew Studios Music Department, Director: Sammy Lawrence' Awards decorated the empty space on the sign.
   Wandering into a corridor and down the hallway, on one side it opened into a flooded infirmary, and straight downward a large pipe was gushing ink next to a tape recorder. Grabbing it, Y/n pressed play.

Click!
"So I go to get my dust pan from the hall closet the other day and guess what? I can't find my stupid keys. It's like they disappeared into thin air or something.

 All I can think of is that they must have fallen in one of the garbage cans as I was making my rounds last week.

 I just hope nobody tells Sammy. Because if he finds out I lost my keys again, I'm outta here."
Click!

... Sammy? The head director?  They thought. Hm  Walking back out, Y/n entered a doorway into a large band room, microphones hung from the ceilings and instruments were scattered about. On the other side of the room was a recording booth. Approaching it there was another gate, no clear way to open it. Y/n pressed their ear against it and knocked on it. It made a loud metal clanging noise. Taking a step back Y/n looked at it for a moment. "It probably leads to the recor-" 

BANG!

"Sheep sheep sheep... It's time for sleep~"

Was the last thing they heard before they faded into unconsciousness again.
   When Y/n woke up, they were laying on a cot. Light strums of an instrument played throughout the room. The place was decorated with cutouts and writing on the walls, candles gave a warm glow. Y/n almost wanted to go back to sleep, but then they remembered what had happened. Bolting upwards they jumped out of the cot and grabbed whatever was nearby, this being a pipe wrench. Peaking around the corner, they analyzed the slightly larger room it opened up into. Stove... Instruments... Jars of ink... Soup? It was like some sort of safe house. Soon enough Y/n spotted the source of the music. The same figure they saw in the hallway was sitting on a hammock, humming and strumming a banjo. He wore a mask, yellow overalls and his lower right arm was bandaged.
   Y/n stepped out of the doorway to where they were visible and stared uneasily at him.  "Oh, you're awake, that's great. I was worried you wouldn't wake up" He set the banjo onto his lap and peered over at them. His voice immediately reminded Y/n of the man on the first tape. Standing up, he set the banjo next to the hammock and approached them. Y/n took a step back uneasily, and he stopped. Hunching over a bit, it extended his hand "I am Sammy Lawrence, I found you at the bottom of the stairwell." Y/n stepped back again, Sammy looked irritated and flicked his hand gesturing for them to shake it. "No.. I'm pretty sure you knocked me unconscious." "Well, would you have rather'd me leave you to be searcher food?" He stood up straight again and scoffed quietly. Searcher food??? He was maybe a foot taller than Y/n. "I'd at least like your name, I can't just call you the random person I let into my safe-house for the rest of the time you're here."  Y/n loosened their grip on the pipe wrench. "Fine, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you I guess."