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Tom decided that he needed to stop running to go find The Projectionist whenever he heard The Projectionist screech.
That was their go-to response whenever anything happened. If The Projectionist screeched, they were either mad, had spotted some creature and were about to kill them, were in danger, or were in fear. If their projector was whirring, they were happy, completely neutral, or found something funny.
Everybody knew that, it wasn't just Tom.
(or maybe it was just him, and it was a sign he was letting his guard down by befriending The Projectionist and not just having the creature as an ally. It was a constant fight in this studio, he shouldn't be doing that.)
This was one of the loudest, pained screeches Tom had ever heard The Projectionist make though, and the fact that The Projectionist was out of the abyss didn't mean anything good.
Running to go help The Projectionist, if The Projectionist was in actual danger, was a death wish. Allison wouldn't help him if he got severely injured because of this.
Tom didn't know why, but he ran to go find The Projectionist as fast as he could anyway.
It didn't take too long to find The Projectionist, even in this maze of a studio. The Projectionist's screeching led the way.
Tom ran into the scene, gripping his axe tight and holding it up slightly. Ready to fight.
The Ink Demon itself was there, near a Little Miracle Station holding The Projectionist's projector.
The Ink Demon cocked its head to the side, looking at Tom, considering whether or not it should fight him.
The Ink Demon was about to take a step closer until—
Bang.
Tom covered one of his ears with his free hand as The Ink Demon roared, dropping the projector and running back the way the demon probably came to go find whoever had fired that gun at its back from so far away.
He knelt next to The Projectionist's slowly melting body. Gallons of ink poured out of the inky wires on its back. If The Projectionist's head being ripped off didn't kill The Projectionist, the bleeding did.
Tom whined, to his surprise.
He impulsively whined over The Projectionist's death.
The ink coming from the wires covered a lot of the floor, staining anything it got near.
Once it stopped, Norman melted away. He melted into a puddle of ink. The only things proving that the creature existed were the projector sitting a few feet away, the reel, and the speaker. All stained with Norman's inky blood.
In his momentary grief, he never noticed two people coming out of the Little Miracle Station and walking by.
Tom didn't have much time to grieve the loss of his one actual ally (friend) inside of the studio, because the used-to-be Bendy prophet showed up. Not that he would grieve when he still had stuff he needed to do for Allison.
Sammy appeared inside of the hall the Ink Demon had gone down, gun in one hand.
Why would someone let some creature so unstable have a gun?
Tom growled, standing up and turning to face the stitched-up Bendy-mask-wearing creature.
"I'd appreciate a thank-you for shooting the Ink Demon in the back."
His stance still didn't change. He didn't trust that creature. He was sure if he could see Sammy's face underneath that mask, he'd be scowling too.
"You being mad at me isn't bringing back The Projectionist," Sammy snapped. "If you want that creature back, you need my help. Being a bitch isn't getting you it, Tom."
He scowled at the ink creature, growling a bit more. His grip on his axe softened.
"Pick up the projector and reel, and follow me," Sammy said, picking up the speaker and walking back down the hall. He didn't wait to see if Tom would follow.
Tom wasn't sure if he should.
He didn't trust that used-to-be prophet. Sammy could be luring him to a hoard of Butcher Gang members to get slaughtered, could be tricking him. That creature was never good news. Everybody knew that Tom was Allison's right-hand man and Sammy still hated him over it, so it wasn't a reach. Sammy was mad, prophet or not, and never did a single good thing. Not in his opinion. Why would Sammy help get The Projectionist back, anyway? It wasn't as if Sammy was friends with The Projectionist.
Not that Tom knew of.
He owed The Projectionist though. He owed it to The Projectionist to check this out and see if Sammy truly did have a way to bring him back.
If he had to, he could dig his axe into Sammy's head and kill him.
He picked the two items up and ran after Sammy, holding his axe in his right hand and the items in his left arm.
The two ink creatures ended up near a sort of pool of ink. It was six feet long and six feet wide. There was a leaky pipe above it, which would drip ink onto any Searchers or Lost Ones they saw come out. There were three candles in front of the thing.
"Put the projector down in there," Sammy said, throwing the speaker in.
Tom tilted his head to the side. He couldn't make many gestures or write anything with his arms preoccupied. Sammy glanced over at Tom and understood what he meant, thankfully. At least the ink creature could understand that.
"Hundreds of Searchers and Lost Ones come out of this pool. The Projectionist should too. With the projector there, he'll be inclined to take his original form, like me with..." Sammy gestured to himself. That inky abyss he was supposed to call a body.
"Are you going to put it in or not, sheep?"
Tom gave Sammy a look, to which the ink creature responded with a dismissive hand motion. Sammy looked away from Tom and the pool, almost ashamed of his use of that term.
Why? Tom didn't care to know.
He walked over to the ink, setting the projector and reel in the middle of it before stepping away.
Now, he had to wait.
Wait they both did.
Tom had no idea why Sammy sticking around throughout this entire process. Was Sammy actually friends with The Projectionist?
Sammy should be scavenging for the resistance (that's what Allison said Sammy and Susie were so he supposed he was sticking with it), not doing this.
He should be doing things for Allison. He supposed he couldn't say much, in both senses of the word.
Ink dripped from the pipe, landing in the small pool with a quiet noise. Sammy seemed relaxed, standing here, while Tom was still on guard.
He still didn't believe that Sammy was helping him bring Norman back.
Until he saw the projector move, causing him to instinctively take a step forward, ready to fight.
The projector went from its side to straight up, the reel too. They all slowly rose out of the ink, connected by some sort of neck and shoulders. Pained screeches followed as ten or so inky wires shot of the bottom end of the projector, connecting to the back growing out of the ink. The speaker flipped to being straight up and became a part of the inky body once half of the chest rose out of the ink.
Slowly, The Projectionist's entire body came out of the pool, pained glitchy screeches and hundreds of whispers following. One wire connected to the upper part of The Projectionist's ankle.
The Projectionist finally came out completely, kneeling, projector light flickering on and off fast enough to give someone a seizure.
The whispers slowly disappeared and The Projectionist slowly quieted. It stopped screeching for a bit, beginning to whir.
He gave Sammy a look that essentially said "what the fuck". He knew Sammy interpreted it right since he responded with a shrug. Sammy was too nonchalant about what had happened.
Tom looked at The Projectionist and barked.
The Projectionist instantly looked at him, screeching again before standing up and smacking its projector on the pipe.
Tom cringed for a second, while Sammy stifled a laugh.
"Watch out for the pipe, Projectionist."
The Projectionist looked over at Sammy, screeching again. It got out of the tub and walked over to the two, Tom covering his eyes so the light wouldn't blind him. Its projector finally stopped flickering.
"Don't—"
The Projectionist pat Sammy on the head. If The Projectionist had a face, it'd be grinning. Sammy grumbled in response, probably cursing.
The Projectionist moved on to Tom, screeching and patting him on the head. Tom almost growled but didn't.
He'd let The Projectionist have this one. It did almost just die.
Tom grabbed The Projectionist by the arm, glancing over to where Sammy had been. The ink creature was gone. Sammy didn't even bother to stick around for longer than he seemingly had to.
He wasn't complaining. The less time he had to spend around Sammy, the better.
He led The Projectionist away from the pool and slowly to the abyss, questioning why Sammy actually helped him bring The Projectionist back (and had saved him) the whole way.