The Voice Of Grant Cohen
They say the real problem with Mr. Drew is that he never actually tells us little people anything.
Oh sure, according to him there's always big stuff coming, adventure and fame and the like.
But I'm the guy, see, who has to make sure our budgets don't go all out of whack just cause genius upstairs went out and got himself another idea.
Speaking of which, and this is top secret, apparently Mr. Drew has another large project in mind now...
And it ain't gonna be cheap.
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"I have to leave."
Barley looked up at Henry from the table. "...Huh?"
"Well, I have to leave the safehouse. Been here for, what, 3 weeks or so? Gotta find a way out of this studio." He continued. "...What, you thought I was going to stay here forever?"
"No, of course not! It's just..." Barley looked away for a minute. "...Isn't it...dangerous out there?"
Henry chuckled. "It's not like I haven't defended myself in here anyways. I'll be fine." He patted the cartoon on the head.
Barley frowned, them pulled out a toolbox and opened it, revealing a lever. "You can put this in the door. And...bye. Stay safe out there."
Henry took the lever, and went to the door, placing it in the empty spot. He looked back for a minute, before pulling the lever and exiting.
Alright. So...Now what do I do? He thought to himself.
He turned back, thinking it wasn't such a bad idea to stay in the safehouse after all, before jumping at the sight of Barley there. "AH! Oh, you scared me, buddy."
"Uh...I uh...I wanted to come with you." Barley mumbled, looking to the side.
Henry smiled. "Well, come on, bud." he said, nodding his head to the hallway.
And so, the duo went on their way.
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After traveling for some time, the duo soon found themselves at a dead end with a steel door blocking the way.
Henry put his hands on his hips. "Well, looks like a dead end. No lever in sight." He looked down to Barley. "Got any ideas?"
Barley looked at the flashlight in Henry's hand. "Can I have that for a second?"
Henry handed it to the cartoon, and watched as he opened one of the ventilation systems, crawling inside and shutting it behind him.
Silence followed, before the steel door slid open.
"Thanks!" He called at the vent, with no response following. For a second, he half-expected ink to flow out of the grate like blood. No, Henry, the little shit's ok. You'll just have to meet him somewhere.
Stepping through the doorway, he took a look around the new area.
Heavenly Toys, He read from the giant sign that hung in the room, Now, Joey REALLY knocked out a few walls when I was gone. I don't remember any of this.
As he walked through the giant area, he turned and looked at all the different dolls everywhere. He never really realized it before, but they were some of the dumbest looking stuffies he had ever seen. That just added to the charm, though. And maybe....to the horror as well.
He stepped upstairs, turning around to find what seemed to be the source of all the toys. A large machine sputtered on the sides, and as Henry examined it, he noticed that it had been jammed by torn apart toys. Huh. Someone really doesn't want me to advance.
After prying the various heads, bodies, and limbs from the machinery, it stopped sputtering, making a smoother whirring afterwards. Henry walked outside and turned the large lever there, and walked back into the toy machine room. The conveyor belt chugged along, doll after doll moving by. That wasn't so hard.
He pulled the smaller lever a few times, watching as the shelves moved by until an opening showed up, revealing a door.
There's my ticket further out of here. He thought, opening it carefully and shutting it behind himself.
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The room was decorated head to toe with merchandise of Edgar. Dolls, a few cutouts, and posters adorned the walls, floors and shelves. What's this about? Did Sammy start worshiping this guy too? Before him was a large, glass window, cloud and star decorations hanging inside.
Almost instantly, the lights shut off. Henry stood frozen in the darkness as speakers were heard fizzling to life, playing some incomprehensible tune. The speakers were far too old to play anything clearly. The only thing Henry could pick up was the cartoon spider's voice, artificial and sickly sweet.
He winced and fell back as he heard the glass window in front of him shatter, and someone crawled through. The unknown being loomed over him, his blood running cold.
"Who are you, in the darkness? A new fly in the endless web?" It asked. Henry stayed stuck to the floor, unmoving in fear of injury. That voice is familiar. Holy shit. Edgar? Is that....?
"Not a talker? Fine." The arachnid continued, "Let's see if you're worthy to walk with angels...good luck, creator." Edgar spat that last word like poison, kicking at Henry's leg with his heel.
The lights soon came back on, and it was almost like the angel had vanished completely into thin air.
"....What the hell was that?"
YOU ARE READING
Charley And The Swap Machine: Re-Ink'd
Przygodowea vivisection of me, yielded the start of a mystery. (or, what if if we decided to change the story you were used to already? with charley, barley, and edgar, henry gets thrown into the world of ink and ichor that we all know and love.) (or or, an a...
