Monochrome

A Shift in Tone

A/N
So I changed the story title to "Monochrome" though I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with it. I might change the title again once or twice until I'm satisfied.

The door slammed behind Henry. Once again leaving the old veteran in the dark, damp entryway. The workshop was still cluttered with chairs and papers all completely unfazed by his presence. The feedback of the projector sounded at the very back, nothing was on the projected screen. His lips moved before his mind could.

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

He moved through the workshop and passed his old work desk a glance. His next line escaped his mouth.

"Hey, here's my old desk. I've wasted so much time in this chair." Not long enough apparently. Not long enough to see how things would go downhill. Henry almost blamed himself for leaving all those years ago. Thinking back, however, he remembered himself slowly succumbing to unhealthy habits. Habits that not only affected his health but his work ethic and love life. Funny how it was the latter that managed to get him out of this place once. She couldn't convince him another time around. That was the worst mistake he'd ever made.

Henry walked to his right as the next rehearsed line escaped him. The first time he actually spoke it it was with amusement and a tinge of pride. Henry noticed three drawing desks and possibly more hidden in the area. Guess Joey didn't expect overworking one of his employees would mean he'd have to hire more. It wasn't amusing anymore and his pride he felt before turned into remorse. How many more people could've been spared if he stayed?

Continuing on he passed the same locked doors, the same written messages, the same corners dripping with ink the came from he didn't know where. He made it to the balcony overlooking massive metal chains holding down the inky contraption. Already knowing where the dry cell batteries were located, he plugged them in and flipped the switch. Henry left the room before even the roof of the machine appeared. He figured out a while ago that he can freely leave if nothing major was about to happen. Major as in no monsters will randomly appear or new additions to this nightmare popping up. Henry didn't consider the reveal of Joey's "greatest invention" worth seeing.

He continued on like this like a robot doing its tasks. He collected the items, he didn't flinch when a board fell or a bendy cut-out popped into existence, he said nothing as his mouth and vocal cords forced out his part in the script. Heck, he even continued playing the record players even though he knew all the words forward and back. It took him maybe fifteen or twenty minutes to collect all the items. Even though he knew where they all were, it was still a journey to collect each individually. The aged man wished someone just put them all in the same room in a box labelled "Sacrificial relics here!"

After gathering all the items, he placed each one on their proper pedestal. Now all that's left to do is get the ink flowing again. This task is much simpler than hunting for lost items. Henry returned to the screening room where he found the Bendy plush toy. He then turned the hatch, starting the ink flow. The pipe nearest to him bursting and the sounds of ink rushing through pipes confirmed the ink flow was running normally.

Returning to the pedestal area, Henry flipped the switched and watched as the main lights flickered off and the back-up lights brightened up the empty hallways.

This was it. That was the last thing he needed to do. Henry knew exactly what the place wanted him to do next and it filled him with absolute dread. Henry recalled the feeling of blind panic his first time around. After maybe 20 or 30 times over, it's effect dwindled a little. And only a little.

Henry hopped over the ink pipe again and turned the next corner. The doorway to the ink machine now boarded up with the same wood used to for the walls and floor. The man glared at the rotting wood. He knew exactly what was about to happen next, but that doesn't mean his apprehension wasn't still there. The thing that wore his creation's face always made his skin crawl no matter how many times he's seen him. It. Whatever that thing was.