Work Text:
Norman woke up tied to a table.
He struggled weakly at his bonds, but he could only manage a brief wiggle. He felt a thousand time heavier, like there was an enormous weight crushing his shoulders and compacting his body.
Everything was so bright, too. He couldn’t make out anything more than dim silhouettes of things. The room he was in was preternaturally silent, which unnerved Norman. The studio was always creaking and settling on its boards.
Norman tried to think about what happened. He had been wandering the inky abyss, and he had stumbled upon... a woman? He couldn’t make out the details, but there had been something very, very wrong about that woman. He just couldn’t think what.
All of a sudden, a figure appeared in the doorway. Norman jumped, or came as close as he could in his current state. He hadn’t heard any footsteps. In fact, he hadn’t heard a thing. He squinted, but everything was so bright that he could only make out a shadowy outline. Tall, slim, wearing a... dress? And were those... horns?
Norman tried to speak, but no words left his mouth. He trashed and railed at his restraints, but they held fast. The figure approached him. It (or was it a she?) held a shape in her hand. Norman recognized it immediately. It was a film reel, one of the many that he had used in his years of work.
As Norman watched, helplessly, the figure went behind him, and a moment later, he felt a sharp pain in his head, and a jarring sensation went through his whole body.
He could see again! But what was this? Another figure was coming towards him. It was definitely male, and was holding a large gun. Norman gasped. Or, he tried to. It was Henry! He looked a few years older than Norman remembered, but it was definitely him. Norman could only watch helplessly as Henry stepped closer, leveled his gun, and fired. A steady round of bullets pumped towards him. Morna tried to scream, but he could not. He struggled to escape, but he could not.
And yet, none of the bullets hit him. The sense of terror had not left Norman, though, and he shook in his place.
He felt another pain in his head, and another jarring sensation, and his vision returned to dark silhouettes again. Henry was nowhere to be found, but Norman knew that wherever he was, Norman would not give him the chance to fire again.
The figure from before stepped forwards again. She leaned forwards, and untied the restraints. Norman was free. He charged forward, not caring about his benefactor, and ran down the hall. Ahead of him was a new maze, bigger than the one before.
He had to repay his liberator. Without words, somehow he knew what she wanted. He would stalk the maze, and hunt the creatures of the ink for her.
And if he ran into Henry again, well, he would not get out alive this time.