Showtime Showdown (Reversed Story, BATIM + SB)

Chapt. 2 |☆| Part 2 - Those old songs...

As Bandit stepped out of the unsettling room, he took a deep breath.

Puppets didn't really need air, but.. it was a nice feeling to, even though the air here felt weird and wrong.
Stepping forward a bit, he was mindful of the steps this time, walking down them cautiously, slowly.

Before he'd even reached the bottom, he caught sight of planks that'd get in his way; Hopping over the broken wood, he stumbled slightly and looked up at the spot ahead of him.

Sat in front of him was some form of shrine. A little cutout of the character he'd seen everywhere around here sat, perched carefully so it wouldn't fall.
Among the candles and the bowls of cold soup, a Banjo sat.

But it looked... too pristine, compared to the rest of the shrine.
Gaze nervously flicking to the writing of 'HE WILL SET US FREE' on the walls, Bandit crouched down, looking a bit closer.

Something had been taking care of this Banjo.
No- Someone.
There could be someone here.

With the revelation that hit like a truck, Bandit hopped to his feet.
If there was someone around here, he didnt have to be alone! At least- Assuming they were friendly.

So, he decided to poke around the room.

A hallway, leading deeper in.
More coffins that caused a chill to go down his spine, candles and-- a chair?

His attention caught on a chair by what looked to be another shelf, like that of the little shrine.
The surface of the shelf was littered with candles and another carefully-placed cutout.

But among the candles and cutout sat something new.

Bandit tilted his head as he stepped closer, lifting the object with a hand.
"What's this?"

It was good-sized, rectangular. But where it'd be a perfect shape, it tapered off to surround three buttons.
Two arrows left, square, one arrow right.

With his free hand, his thumb drifted across the grated speaker as he peeked at the device, tilting and turning it in his hands.

And, after a moment, he pressed one of the buttons, the arrow.

Clik; It whirred slightly, the reels he could see inside turning, yet no sound came out.

Clakk; He tapped the rewind button as the reels moved the opposite way with a soft, quiet 'vwwrrrr' before clicking to a halt.

Bandit paused for a moment, gears turning in his head before he pressed the play button again.

Clik- khhtssk!; The tape sprung to life, Bandit jumping slightly and setting it down.

The voice that left was soft, tired, yet in some way... unnatural. Broken.

Voice of
SAMMY LAWRENCE

"He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon us.

The figure of ink, that shines within the darkness;
I see you, my Savior.
I pray that you hear me."

There was a pause, the sound of creaking wood and someone shifting in their seat.

"Those old songs- Yes, I still sing them."

Bandit's gaze flicked to the banjo off to the side when he heard the slightest, clumsy pluck of a string.

"For I know, You are coming to save me.
And once I finish the trials you've placed for me, you will pull me into your final, loving embrace.

But... Love, requires sacrifice."

The creak sounded again. As he'd spoken, the man in the recording had been playing that very banjo.
But, after the final statement, the man played for a moment longer.

And it trailed off into silence.
Silence that remained just that tiny bit too long, before he sighed; chair creaking slightly once again as if he had leaned in.
His voice, as he spoke again- It was softer, clearer and yet more severe.

"Can I get an Amen?"

And with that, there was a click.

And then there was quiet.

Bandit stood for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping back...-

And right into something. Freezing up for a moment, he felt a cold hand clasp his shoulder.

"I said," Chimed the voice from the tape; Now crystal clear despite the slightest distortion.
"

Can I get an Amen?"

Instinct took hold before he could so much as think, and Bandit yelped, swinging his elbow back to knock the potential danger away and getting a grunt in response before he realized what he'd did.

And, rather then running...

Bandit turned around.