Chapter Text
POV of Henry Stein
To celebrate the grand reopening of Joey Drew Studios, Joey thought it would be a great idea to bring in a camera crew from a local news station and interview some of our employees. For publicity reasons, of course, as he assured me when I had just stared at both him and the reporters in the main entrance’s doorway. If he passed the idea around with me before bringing the entirety of Channel 10 News into the studio’s main lobby, then I would’ve warned him about what he was getting into. But, why would he listen to me now when he never has before?
“Are you sure about this?” I at least try to whisper this to Joey while the two of us lead the camera crew further into the bustling lobby. The giant reels slowly spin behind the sprawling Joey Drew Studios sign.
“Yes, Henry, I’m sure. This’ll really let the world know that Bendy is finally back!” Joey opens his arms with a grin as he positions himself in front of the sign.
“Thankfully in a less literal way this time,” I say under my breath while I tiredly stand next to him.
The young man holding the rather large camera switches on the recording light. “…And we’re rolling!”
“Hello.” Joey puts in his best smile and lets his arms fall to his sides. “And welcome to Joey Drew Studios! I’m Joey Drew, and you may have questions about that, but I can assure you that the only reason I’m still alive—and rather young —is thanks to the kindness of the gods.”
“ Maybe you shouldn’t mention that to the entirety of America ,” I quietly suggest through a forced smile. God forbid the entirety of the world rediscovers Joey’s cultish behaviors. The man hasn’t learned about cancel culture quite yet.
“Anyway, follow me into the heart of our studio!” Joey snaps his fingers, quickly moves on, gesturing for both myself and the camera crew to follow him towards Animation. We pass my desk along the way, then enter a busy area dedicated to the art of our cartoons. “Here you’ll see that we as a studio have moved on from the animation techniques of the past—and joined the innovators of 2022. Our newest Bendy cartoons will be in this 3D style!”
As I smile and nod, my gaze drifts to the various animators who sit at rather high-tech computers. I watch one younger guy log onto his DeviantArt account and quickly avert my eyes. Joey continues talking while several animators look up from their stations in confusion at the presence of the camera crew.
“—Have you ever seen Shrek ? Well, that’s our goal!” Right as Joey says this to the camera, the PA system screeches above.
“Oh God—” I whip my head around before eyeing the speakers in unison with the camera crew, the animators, and Joey.
Wally Franks clears his throat over the announcement system.
“ Alright guys, I'm doing ‘Take On Me’ now
Alright, ha-pa-ba-ba-ba
I, I really, I really like this song, it sounds good ”
“Uh… What’s happening here…?” The camera man asks with a raised eyebrow. Joey laughs nervously, turning pale.
“Our studio is full of… unique individuals!” he answers simply. As soon as Wally takes a deep breath and begins to sing, Joey winces.
“ Minin' away, I don't know what to mine
I'll mine this anyway in this Minecraft day
So beautiful, mine further down
What's that I found?”
While we all painfully stand in silence, the camera man slowly angles the lens to the speakers. I take the time away from the spotlight to face palm, meanwhile Joey laughs nervously again as he glances at me from the side. I shoot back a glare.
“Mine diamonds (take on me)
Mine diamonds (take on me)
I'll mine them
So far I've got twoooooooooooooo… ”
***
The next place we eventually visit is Music, which at this rate, could not go as poorly as our trip through Animation. The moment we come down the stairs and step into the department’s vast lobby, the news crew is awed by the peppy tune that plays over the small speakers on the top corners of the wall-sized “MUSIC DEPARTMENT” sign. A couple musicians walk by with music stands and instrument cases clutched in their arms, their hair neat and their button-down shirts free of any wrinkles. According to everyone, Sammy runs this place like it’s still 1935, rejecting any material modernity. It’s going to be especially complicated when he finds out he can’t record his songs the way he used to.
Joey gestures for us to walk further into the sprawling room, then raises his fist to clear his throat. “Sammy Lawrence was my best decision. Does it still sound homoerotic when I say it like that?”
“Considering the majority of us are at least somewhat attracted to men, yes,” I return through a forced smile.
“Well, anyway, Sammy is the director of our beloved music department. He composes, leads the band, observes recordings, and all sorts of stuff, while his buddy Jack Fain writes the lyrics to all his songs. He runs a pretty tight ship around here.” Joey glances at the unlit “RECORDING” sign, then looks at me with a nervous grin. I quickly begin to shake my head and make an “X” symbol with my arms, buy Joey motions for us to all follow him regardless. “How about we see what the maestro’s up to? Let’s all go take a peek.”
“Oh God.” I feel my forehead, already exhausted by today’s events. The camera men look at each other and shrug while we all move into the little alcove, then through the previously-shut door to the music room. Open instrument cases are beside the piano and the recording booth, and the place overall looks a lot more lived in than it did before. Up in the projection booth, Norman Polk boredly rests his chin on his palm as he watches band practice commence.
All the musicians are gathered on the stage, seated in the same old wooden chairs that have been here since 1932. Sammy stands with a baton in front of them all, a fresh sheet of music on his metal podium. His brown hair is tousled, and he still wears the same white button-down, tan trousers, and matching suspenders as he did every day for years in the 1930’s. He doesn’t notice us creep inside, thankfully, although the relief burns into embarrassment the minute he starts swearing.
“Alright fuckers, it’s music time now. That means no more making Tic Tac videos of me and Grant Cohen,” Sammy begins briskly, rolling up the sleeves to his button-down. The man holding the camera cringes, whispering to his coworker about cutting and editing this footage.
One of the musicians speaks up from the back row in response. “Mr. Lawrence, it’s actually TikTok, not… whatever you said.”
“I didn’t ask you.” Sammy puts the baton on his music stand and folds his arms over his chest. “Now, as you know, the voice actors have their own hangout spot now, so you will not be saved from my wrath by the constant presence of Ms. Campbell. Although she will still be here often, for obvious reasons.”
“He’s down bad for real,” a woman in the front row says to her friend, both of whom laugh.
“I am not down bad!” Sammy whips his head around, as Joey awkwardly coughs. Murder flashes in the conductor’s mismatched eyes. “Oh for the love of God. Joey, why the fuck are you interrupting band practice?”
“Sammy, we have a lovely camera crew here to promote our newly reopened studio! You might want to cut the swearing ,” Joey says the last part behind a cupped hand.
Sammy blinks. “Dear Lord. You actually thought that would be a good idea? Have you met the people who work here?”
“That was exactly my point, just not as explicit since we are literally on camera.” I smile again, but behind my eyes I’m screaming.
“You people are like a reality tv show,” Norman comments from above on the balcony. Sammy, Joey, and I all glance up at him, suddenly reminded of his presence.
“This is our studio projectionist: Mr. Norman Polk!” Joey gestures at him with warm enthusiasm to our camera crew.
“Again, less literal this time,” I say quickly.
“Right. You fellas get on with your bickering again so I can secretly choose sides as usual.” Norman waves us away, so the camera is slowly pointed at us on the ground again.
Sammy sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you’re looking for someone who will enjoy sharing their work and will enjoy talking about this reincarnation of hell, find Susie in the Heavenly Toys factory. She’ll gladly share her fondest memories.”
Joey scratches the back of his neck. “That’s funny. I thought Susie hated me.”
“Oh, don’t take that too literally…” As Sammy says this, the musicians begin to snicker. Sammy raises his hand and snaps his fingers, and as the room falls to silent smirks, the corner of his mouth tilts up, and his eyes flicker to an equally amused Norman.
***
“I told you to never speak to me again.” Susie seethes at Joey as we approach her in one of the Angel lounges of the factory. She is reading a magazine and has her legs stretched out on the sloped couch, meanwhile Allison Pendle sits on the floor, leaning her back against the sofa as she flips through a novel.
“But Susie, Sammy said not to take your anger too literally,” Joey pleads. Allison raises an eyebrow, brushing back her long blonde hair, and Susie scoffs.
“He was so obviously messing with you, Joey,” I tell him with a sigh. “We shouldn’t even be recording anymore. Why don’t we–”
“Recordin’?” Susie’s demeanor shifts as her blue eyes flicker between the cameras.
“I was going to ask about that,” Allison says, lowering her book to gesture to the crew.
“We’re gathering footage of the studio for promotion purposes,” I repeat tiredly.
“So far… 90% of it is unusable,” the man holding the camera comments.
“Great,” I respond blithely.
“Well, I’ll say that this place has some of the best people I’ve ever met. Joey tried to pit girls against girls at one point, but, well, we’ve figured things out. Now, Allison is one of my closest friends,” Susie smiles sweetly at the other voice actress, who returns the gesture shyly. “I’m back to voicing Alice, meanwhile Animation’s been creatin’ a new character for Allison to pick up.”
“Great, that’s decent footage,” Joey turns to proudly say to me. “Employee bonding!”
“Except for you pitting the two main girls against each other,” I point out.
“And banishin’ me into the cycle to get rid of me.” Susie feigns concern as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Oops, were we not talkin’ about that?”
The camera man frowns. “95% unusable.”
Allison tilts her head with a smile while Joey begins to sweat. If this does anything besides get this building condemned and Joey arrested, I’ll be shocked. Clearly, Joey is thinking the same thing as he desperately looks around to find something to save face. Beginning to pity the man again, I glance around, too.
“How about we go to the main part of the factory?” I casually suggest.
“That sounds like a good idea, Henry!” Joey presses his hand against his chest, evidently calming his racing heart. “Well, let’s press on. Goodbye, my friends!”
“Rot in hell, Joey!” Susie responds with a cheerful wave.
“What she said,” Allison agrees, turning the page of her book. I try to smile and give a small wave, but luckily the two voice actresses don’t seem to harbor any grudges by association, so they kindly return the gesture before I hurry after Joey.
***
The factory seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, when we get there, we find Wally Franks and Shawn Flynn on the floor of one of the toymaking rooms, assembling what looks to be bootleg Monster High dolls. Jesus Christ, can anyone in this place be normal for just a second?
Regardless, the moment we step into the cramped room, the machines whir and groan, their spinning blades still probably against OSHA regulations. As the camera pans across the space, Wally and Shawn lift their heads from where they sit pretzel-legged in front of the moveable shelves. The doll parts they have scattered in front of them look surprisingly accurate to the real things.
Wally grins, brushing back his mop of blond hair. “These things go for hundreds a piece on Craigslist!”
“How did you find Craigslist before any other online sales site?” I ask, mouth slightly open in surprise.
Shawn answers in a thick brogue. “They had cats!”
“Is this technically legal or will I get slammed in court for this somehow?” Joey’s face pales as he contemplates how much more heat this company can take. “I don’t quite understand how taxes work.”
Slipping into the space from the Alice Angel room behind Shawn and Wally, finance director Grant Cohen views us with total exhaustion. “Did someone mention court in relation to taxes? Please, I will respectfully die.”
Before Joey can open his mouth, I turn to him with a shrug. “You should just stop introducing people. They do it pretty well themselves, honestly.”
“Grant, didn’t you want Clawdeen?” Wally tilts his head back to ask the weary accountant.
He nods and puts his hands in his pockets. “Specifically her cat, seeing as my cat enjoys little cat trinkets. But I’ll take a Clawdeen doll, too.”
“Cool. We gotcha.” Shawn pulls out a little notebook and scribbles down Grant’s request. It is a part of a seemingly endless list.
I am largely at a loss for words. “Grant, please don’t tell me you bought your cat from Craigslist.”
“Oh, I would never. She’s a shelter cat,” Grant dismisses my concerns with the wave of his hand.
“That’s good at least.” I turn to Joey and the open-mouthed camera crew. “Maybe we should call it a day before we witness any more questionably legal activities, though.”
We ultimately end the day standing where all this began–the front entrance of the main lobby. Once the crew has left and the door has shut, Joey and I embrace the silence to process today’s events. Joey is the first to comment on them. “Well, I think that was a perfect way to rediscover the joys of this old studio.”
As I look at him with abject despair, a smooth voice from behind interrupts with his signature sarcasm. “Funny. The word I used was ‘horrors.’
We barely have time to turn to the music director before he shoves past us–well, past Joey–with his jacket on and his ancient car keys in between his fingers. “Bye, bitches, I’m going to some store with my favorite person in the world.”
“Aw, Sammy, where are we going?” Joey presses a palm against his chest, causing Sammy to stop right as he pulls open the door.
The music director raises an eyebrow at his boss. “Not you.”
The door is quickly slammed once Sammy slips out into the sunlit parking lot. Joey winces at the sound.
After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Joey grins and gazes ahead. “I still think things are going a lot better than I predicted.”