Chapter Text
In another world, Malice is rather rudely woken up by very, very loud rock music being played over extremely loud pop music, which is being played over slightly less loud classical music. Over all of it is a pirate shanty. It’s obvious who’s blasting this awful mix of music.
Sitting up with a groan, Malice takes a moment to look at the photo she keeps on the table by her bed. It showed Susie, Allison, Sammy, Wally, Henry, Norman, Shawn, Thomas, Grant, and Lacie, shortly before Henry quit. The others had followed suit, getting out before the madness started, and never looking back. She had little doubt they were all doing just fine.
"At least none of them have to deal with three idiots who blare their music in the middle of the night."
Stretching, she gets out of bed, and immediately stomps down to the Butcher Gang’s room. Kicking open the door, she pulls a syringe out from...somewhere and points it at the closest member of the gang. “Stop playing your music at -” she checks her watch “3 AM in the fucking morning! It’s nighttime! Go the fuck to sleep!”
Edgar immediately bolts up onto the ceiling and through a hole. Malice assumes it’s to avoid her wrath. Charley and Barley, on the other hand, pull out their weapons and point them at her. “Make us!” they both yell in unison.
“Gladly.”
Meanwhile, in the ceiling, Edgar’s very glad he decided to run when he did. He can hear the noises of Malice and the two other members of the Gang fighting. Judging by the sound of it, the Gang is losing. Badly.
However, the other occupant of the ceiling isn’t as happy as he is, mostly because his space has been invaded by a giant spider with teeth. Said occupant is now readying a catapult full of ink.
A few seconds later, and Edgar is covered head to toe in goopy, half-dried ink, and not at all happy about it. He screeches to relay the fact that someone is going to have all the ink sucked out of them, and it’s not going to be him. Then he charges at the other occupant of the ceiling, who dodges and drops out of sight. Edgar follows.
And then they both land on Bendy.
“What even happened here?” Boris asks, pressing on Edgar’s remaining 7 legs to make sure they weren’t broken. “Why did you all decide to fight each other at 3 AM in the morning?”
Malice shrugs, her arm bandaged. “They were blasting their music.”
Charley and Barley chime in, once again in a unison. “She tried to stop us.”
Edgar mumbles something. Boris frowns. “Repeat that?” In response, Edgar screeches three times in a row before going silent. The other occupant of the ceiling simply shrugs and goes back to drawing on the walls.
Bendy, on the other hand, scowls. “These two jokers thought it’d be funny to land on me! They coulda hurt me!”
“Bendy, they didn’t mean to. You know the ceiling’s kinda falling apart.”
“Well, they still coulda hurt me,” Bendy grumbles, pouting. “And that wouldn’t’ve been good.”
“I suppose not.” Boris sighs. “Can we at least agree to not do this again?”
All 6 offenders look at each other. They look at Boris. And then all of them shake their heads no.
Boris sighs a very tired sigh. “Of course not.”