BATIM x Reader (Bendy and the Forgotten Dream: AU)

Chapter 5: Sight by Blinding

Art Credit: Feyre on Tumblr

Ink rolled down the walls like a pooling night, both infectious and merciless in its cold, blank stare. Even though you had arrived at the beaten studio far into the late hours, it still felt like midnight. It was rather unclear to you what was more chilling: the atmosphere, or how you were slowly losing your sense of time already.

Sammy had been kind enough to carry you leaping out of the moving train, lifting you up above his head when he was securely on the ground and joking that he could send you out of the studio with toon logic by throwing you. The moment was certainly desirable amidst the gloomy and mysterious feeling sinking in around the area. Still, your laughter had echoed off. All the space ahead was mostly empty, which was a new sight to see. It'd be convenient for the train if it stopped there. With a high ceiling and an empty floor and plentiful air, it would've given both cars and passengers lots of space. But unfortunately what it also was was Alice's territory, somewhere she was watching over, and the train couldn't stop there. Not only that, but something in your senses prodded towards the fact that some sort of creature lurked around the area.

Bendy? No. There'd be a chill heavier around here if that were the case. And Sammy would be displaying his... excitement. Tense excitement.

"Sammy... what floor did you bring us to?"

A brief pause. You saw the man then hold his arms out and gesture above in an odd sort of manner.

"Think of it like this: the first floor, as you might expect, remains as Level One. The second floor where you used to work and met me again, however, is Level K. Apart from the places where I aimed to please my lord, there were rumors of a... Boris, living in the center of the level. I'm fairly certain we passed through his home before heading into what you recognized as Alice's 'realm.' After we ran we arrived on what you'd say is the third floor, known to us as Level Eleven. From there we went on the railway and train, passed both Level P and Level Nine, thankfully. And now we're at Level Fourteen. I'm aware that the naming system makes no sense. ...Will you allow me to stop droning now? At this rate it seems as though you only ask questions to hear my voice speak."

"Well, I AM curious, and a writer who wants details I guess," you giggled. "But yeah, hearing your voice is nice when you aren't discussing rituals or sacrificial plans."

"I find them rather entertaining to listen to while we're traveling."

"Mhm, sure. Discussing rituals with the potential sacrifice from earlier. Seriously though, what I was asking was more of what's IN this level. It doesn't feel as empty as it looks."

To this statement Sammy stayed quiet, flashing his mask in glance of sorts and leading you on through the rather disgusting and sludgy ink that caked the floor in flooding. Your nose wrinkled at the same time as you gripped your axe tighter, noticing how it stained your pants. Level Fourteen must've been mostly made of normal ink then. At least there was no risk of being dragged down into "who knows where" land.

"...With how the studio shifts, it's hard to say. It would be wiser for you to cease your questions of what may be here and continue to follow me."

"..."

Last time with those Butcher Gang members... I'm not sure if they were real, but the axes we had were definitely real. Since he chose for us to run instead of fight, he really doesn't want to kill unless it's necessary. He meant it about not wanting to kill me, truly. But is that because it's me? How much has he killed for Bendy from those rituals he spoke of? He led us into somewhere that has potential danger, and he'll make us run right from it. Why?

You're a tough puzzle to figure out, Sammy. I should be scared of you. I don't know why I'm not.

Although it had been helpful to get a layout of the land somewhat, the words the prophet left you with were slightly unsettling considering your previous encounters, to say the least. They were almost foretelling something, something you didn't like. Fitting.