Hunteri Heroici

it's rainin' ink! hallelujah, its rainin ink!~*

As the door creaks shut behind the hunters, they are in shock at the animation studio's state. Wallpaper is limply peeling off every wall splattered with posters for two characters in ill placed hopes to hide the blistering mess, in some places revealing the rotten spongy boards beneath, one misplaced breath from joining with the dust on the floor; speaking of, the screamed protest beneath their feet is one to be heeded, they might need to find another way out – or catch a ride with Cas on his way back might be easier. Carefully stepping into the main room, they can see just how extensive the kingdom of dust spreads, finding itself blanketing each and every available surface. To one wall is what appears to be the companies' logo, Sam proving that it's still capable of movement as he spun one side of it – experimentally, of course.

Then there was the Ink.

The thick black liquid stained the wall like blood splatters in an abattoir, oozing out of every crack in the wall and adding a constant *drip drip drip* to the silence so large it was threatening to drown them – their footsteps being the only reprieve from the maddening, repetitive sound.

Walking over to the blank wall facing the door, Dean leans down to investigate the aging device angled towards the wall. Brushing away the dust, he must have accidentally flipped a switch as suddenly the ancient thing begins to wake up, shining its light on the empty wall drawing rattling breaths as it tries to find its reel.

"Wha- Dean, don't touch that! We don't know what could be causing the haunting here, so. Be. Careful" Called Sam lowering his weapon after dean startled him after hearing a potential threat behind him. Good thing these are only salt rounds he thought as he moved to one of the many doors to the left of where they came in, jiggling the handle. Locked. Just like most of the other doors he'd tried. Just as he was about to pick the lock, he heard a door open somewhere else – Cas had apparently found one beside where dean had been messing with that banged up old thing – moving to set up behind the door seeing as it seemed to be a good spot to see everything else in the room, without being seen himself.

Meanwhile Dean was off exploring the only area left of where they came in that was accessible. An old desk greeted him as he turned the corner, quickly seeing it's brethren through the open doorway, there was still paper on these desks seemingly unchanged by the decades. He took a look, as he usually did on a hunt that seemed bigger than they thought or when it went horribly wrong, finding half-finished drawings- all with different poses in different stages of completion but all the same character – a small mostly black figure with no neck, a bowtie, gloves (four digits he noted) and little shoes. Its face was white with a black border that curved around and met in the middle with a hole cut out of its head giving it 'horns' he guessed. This one was lying down – kinda cute really in a bizarre way, he wouldn't mind this lil guy over the fucks he fought on a near daily basis now – it seemed familiar however, he just couldn't put his finger on why.

As he looked up to call to Sam, Dean spotted the poster behind the first desk 'bendy the dancing demon' it read that must be who this guy is, must've been a main character or somethin' with all the pictures of it around. Looking back down something was. . . different. The pose had changed so that now it was standing, hands on hips, peering over at something that was never completely drawn, tail upwards held mid swish. Wait, it didn't have a tail before, did it? Glancing up again at the poster, tail definitely missing, he looked down again. It was lying down again, no tail, as if it had always been like that. Testing a theory, he looked away again, only to find it still in the same spot when he looked back, even if the pie cut eyed smile never changed it now had an air of mischief to it.

Choosing to tell Sam about it after checking out the rest of the building he turned to leave only to freeze when a flicker caught the corner of his eye. Sharply turning in one swift motion cocking his gun he turned to where the movement had been. Cautiously stepping over, he found what seemed to have been a bathroom in a previous life filled with broken boards lone light bulb hanging over the space giving what little light it could in its spasms and . . . there was no door. Seeing no threat Dean chose to leave the room to search the rest of the space.

Passing through the 'main room' he saw Sam setting up a hide, while Cas was staring intently at one of the many ink puddles. He soon stopped again however when he saw the writing on the wall 'Dreams come true' huh, not ominous at all then, maybe just someone's idea of a joke although with their luck it might be pointing to some kinda horrible dream monster. Checking in on Sam again Dean figured it would be a good idea to hunker down and figure out a plan and fill him in, Cas had joining them in the small cupboard at some point to hear what Dean had found.

Just as they were about to start to work out a plan for going forward there was a loud creak. Heads snapping in the direction they came in they heard it open and close. Then there was a voice...

"Alright Joey, I'm here. Let's see if we can find what you wanted me to see"

The voice contrary to its sound, was not human. The speaker's face was wrong, near impossible to tell why it the dim light. A light that shouldn't be there. It seemed to come from its eye – all shades of yellow, even where white was meant to be – which was intently focused on the wall seemingly counting, flicking from place to place on the empty rotted wall muttering to itself, teeth peeking through the slightest bit too sharp

With a long weary sigh, it lowered its hand – rounded, soft looking with one too few digits – turning towards the hidden hunters. If they had their doubts before, seeing the right side of the figures face all but shattered them – a naggingly familiar sight until they looked to the posters and understood why. It looked exactly like the faces on the wall, however instead of the black point framing it hair drifted down into it's face, roughly cut seeming more out of necessity than any attempt to style it. The top of its head was a crescent, exactly like the horns on the posters. This side attempted to copy its neighbour in its tired saddens, but appeared more like a twisted mockery of it – exaggerated to the point of comedy.

Yeah, they were in too deep with this one.