Sheep and Shepherds

Searchers and Survival

Helen cried out as the... ink things approached her. She swung her axe wildly in an attempt to keep the creatures at bay. "Get the hell away from me!" She screeched, waving her axe haphazardly, managing to cut only air. The inky, vaguely humanoid blobs only screamed in response, advancing sluggishly towards her. Helen grunted as the axe's dull blade managed to penetrate through one of the creature's head, causing it to revert to an inky puddle with a loud splat. Helen gasped, momentarily immobile with shock. Not only were these things alive and hostile... but they could be killed.

Armed now with this information (and the trusty axe), Helen drove her weapon deep into the head of a second creature, watching as the blade sliced neatly through the beast's liquid body. The final monster let out a horrifying cry and lunged for her, to which she swung the axe deep into the creature's inky chest. A few panicked swings later, and the beast was nothing but a black puddle.

Helen took in a gasping breath, dropping her axe and falling to the ground to recollect her senses. "I was just attacked... by living ink..." She gulped, registering her statement. "Living ink... I... I was just attacked by living ink! What the hell?" She got up to a kneeling position, staring at a puddle of ink that had, just seconds ago, tried to kill her. "I was just attacked by ink!" She shouted. "Ink... living ink..." Helen sighed and shook her head. "Living ink... I'm probably going crazy." She chuckled nervously, adrenaline still flowing through her. "Yeah..." She stood up, gripping the handle of her axe. "I'm going insane."

As she regained her posture, a tape recorder caught her eye. "Another one of these," she muttered. The adrenaline having robbed all energy from her, Helen plodded tiredly towards the table where the recorder sat. "Alright, ghosts of the past," Helen groaned sarcastically, "Lend me your wisdom."

"So I go to get my dustpan from the hall closet and guess what? I can't find my stupid keys!"

Helen smirked. Wally Franks. Wally was probably the most entertaining part of working for Joey Drew. He was always so blunt and honest, never sugar-coating anything. Helen sighed. She missed him. She hated to realize it but... she missed the studio. She missed getting up every morning knowing that her friends were gonna be with her all day. But... she knew she had to leave. That ink machine caused more harm than good, she knew. It's a wonder the studio remained open for so long after its installation.

Helen listened as Wally continued his rant. "It's like they disappeared into thin air or somethin'!"

"All I can think of is that they must've fallen into the garbage can while I was doing my rounds last week." The voice paused. "I just hope nobody tells Sammy. If he finds out I've lost my keys again, I'm outta here!"

Helen chuckled lightly. That phrase was basically Wally's catchphrase. He'd say it every time complications arose before dutifully going to resolve it. 

Damn. The nostalgia was real.