The Beast Made of Ink

Chapter 67: His Job

-??? P.O.V.-

The birds chirped and squaked, making their audible way throughout the garden. Roses bloomed and bees fluttered, pollen sticking to their bottoms as they made their way back home. It was calming, in a certain sense. Calming to see the sheer simplicity and beauty of nature. He could find himself enjoying scenery like this anytime, but the old man beside him, who looked out at the vast ocean of green with an empty smile on his sagging face? Well, he can't help but wonder if the elder man can even feel, much less appreciate beauty.

"Isn't it wonderful, Rocky?" The older man called out to him, making the male named Rocky glance down towards the elder.

"Define wonderful." He questioned back as he took a long drag of his cigarette, making the old man laugh in response.

"Well, let's see..." He began with a close eyed smile, "The grass is green and the animals and insects are alive. The sky is blue, and the breeze is nice. This is what normal people define as 'wonderful' or 'beautiful', no?"

Rocky found his silver eyes squinting down at the wheel-chair ridden man beside him. "Fucking weirdo." He exclaimed as he took another drag, blowing out the smoke off to the side in spite, "Somethin's wrong with you, you know that?"

Smile turning sly, the old man looked up at him, his own silver eyes turning into nothing but daggers. "I'm perfectly fine." He exclaimed, "What's wrong is all those normal people who live their lives day in and day out with sheer ignorance. Our whole family is filled with ignorance, all except for you and I. You're the only one that can see through your Grandpa Joey, aren't you, Rocky? We're the only ones considered monsters."

Rocky... Rocky really fucking hated him, he really fucking hated Joey Drew. Sure, they both have demons in their closets. By appearance, tattoo's cover 40% of the young adults pale body, and a single long scar drags from the top of his forehead, through his eyebrow, over his left eye, and stops at the tip of his upper lip, making him squint ever so slightly from the pull. Covered in every ear-piercing imaginable, height tall, and body lean yet built, by appearance, the man affectionately nick-named Rocky looks like a monster, and by profession, even more so.

He's a hitman, kills for money. Through this money, Rocky is allowed to live in a penthouse apartment as he can afford anything he could ever desire, although his tastes are quite simple.

He hates most people, but out of all the people he has to interact with, his 'Grandpa Joey' is the only one that he would love to put a bullet between his eyebrows for.

"I may be a monster" The unkempt black haired Rocky started as he glared at his Grandfather, "But you're a fuckin' psycho."

Once again, Joey laughed. "Well... I guess that's your opinion, and I guess I can see your point of view. I did destroy countless lives inside a studio, brought an ink-ridden piece of the demon Soneillon to wreak havoc upon the earth, created a completely separate cult to worship him, gained money through scams and illegal donations, killed my wife, torture for fun, and I exposed all of this to you at an extremely young age as I made your infant body reliant on the devils ink before you let out your first 'gaa', but honestly Rocky? I think you're being a little over-dramatic. I'm not a psycho."

"You're not a psycho." He rhetorically questioned back to him, taking his Grandfathers sarcastic and sadistic strides in with ease.

"Goodness no!" Joey exclaimed, "I simply lack some emotions. That may make me a psychopath, but it also makes me superior compared to those sheep-shit excuses called humans whose lives revolve around other people's feelings. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I may be a killer, but I still care and have emotions. I just hate most people is all." Rocky explained casually, "Now enough of the morale talk. Why'd you call me here?"

"To the point like usual, I see..." Joey sighed as he readjusted his position, eyes finding their way back to the scenery as he spoke, "I called you here to take care of something for me. You see, something's wrong with the studio. I can feel it, I can feel the disturbance. Bendy's emotions are going haywire, and I fear that Henry may have returned."

Hearing Henry's name made Rocky jolt ever so slightly, slight concern filling his silver eyes at the thought of Henry being back in that hellhole. Rocky liked Henry, he's a good man.

When Rocky was young, he was sent out by his Grandfather to watch the former-cartoonist/animator for a while, just to make sure he was doing nothing shifty. It was there that Rocky had met Y/N. She was a really sweet girl, got dealt a lot of crap in her short lived life that she didn't deserve. Even after escaping her hell of a childhood home, people were still mean and took advantage of her. Hell, one even tried to rape her. Rocky enjoyed helping that Thomas Grant 'kill himself' in prison just before his release.

Although Rocky hasn't interacted with either of them in a long time, he still tries to keep watch of them when he can. After all, Henry Stein and Y/N L/N are the only two people he likes and cares for. For that single blissful summer, they were his family. It's been quite a while since he last checked in on them. The thought of Henry being back in that fucking studio... That's really concerning, although, if Rocky were to be honest, he'd rather have Henry there over Y/N.

Releasing his cigarette from his lips, Rocky dropped the poison-stick to the ground as he then rubbed the flickering bud out with the tip of his shoe. "What do you need me to do?" He asked.

"Go down to the studio. Figure out what's going on, and report back to me. Don't do anything stupid." Joey said, slight venom in his emotionless tone.

"Yeah, yeah." Hands in his pockets and body swaying, Rocky left the nursing home.

.........

A/N: Secrets are starting to be revealed.. Just what is Joey up to? 

Heh, pretty good outro, huh? Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed!!! You guys stay safe, and happy pride month!