Chapter 1: Smile! You're Being Watched!

Every day at Bendyland started with a magnificent parade. The park opened at 8:00AM every morning, and guests were ushered along the sides of walkways and paths for the parade that started at 8:30AM. Stands opened early to sell balloons with smiling, painted faces and cheerful grins. Other stands started cooking sizzling bacon or sweet, frosted funnel cakes, tempting parents to splurge on a fat-filled breakfast as the scents wafted through the park. Gift shops and souvenir halls opened their metal doors, and twinkling golden lights flickered on as the early-morning sun struggled to lift its head. There were a few rides in the front of the park, but even they waited patiently for the parade to start. The lines started early; everyone wanted to be as close as possible to the white line that marked the edges of the path, with a careful warning: DO NOT CROSS written in white letters right above it.

Excited whispers. Cheerful squeals. Hushed tones of anticipation. Then, three minutes before the parade starts, TV monitors around the park flickered to life. Joey's smiling face illuminated each of them. His fresh-pressed suit had barely a wrinkle, his hair was perfectly combed, and his white teeth practically sparkled on the monitors. He was the second-friendliest face in the park, and his cheerful voice caught every child's attention.

"Good morning!" His voice called out. "And welcome to Bendyland! We hope that you're as excited to be here as we are, in the place where Dreams Come True! So many years ago now, we had a dream to bring smiles to the faces of people everywhere. And then, wouldn't you know it, we made the Little Devil Darling: Bendy! Now, we're able to bring smiles to everyone's faces. I wonder if you can smile even bigger than Bendy can! Remember, always stick with a buddy in the park so you don't get lost, and follow the rules so you don't get in trouble!" Joey cleared his throat and picked up a piece of paper, copies of which could be seen hanging on nearly every store-front window, and plastered up on posters and boards around every corner.

PARK RULES:

1. No flash photography.

2. ID badges must be worn at all times.

3. No firearms or weapons.

4. No drugs or alcohol.

5. Always travel in groups of two or more.

6. Always leave the park before 7:00 pm.

7. Don't be in the park after dark.

After reading off the rules, Joey smiled back at the camera. "Well, that's it from me! Without further ado, let's all give a big welcome to the parade! Remember to have fun in Bendyland, where dreams come true!" The recording shut off and began a countdown from ten. Children cheered with anticipation, clamoring closer.

Nine.

Little boys and girls were hoisted on the shoulders of their parents to get a better view, multicolored swashes of color, a background of bright T-shirts and toys.

Eight.

The stars of the show waited patiently behind an iron gate for the countdown to finish. Floats hummed and whirred to life. It was almost time.

Seven.

Everything and everyone in place. Lights flickered to life above them, the countdown broadcast above them cheerfully. Pie-cut eyes blinked. Heads tilted. Their smiles sprung to life.

Six.

Instruments tuned. A trumpet gave a soft noise, a quiet sound, a test of volume and pitch. Right on key, Sammy always made sure the instruments were tuned the night before. He may not be directing the band, he preferred the studio, but he'd rather die than let there be a string over-tightened.

Five.

An angel stepped forth, tapping the mic. It hummed back in response, eager for painted black lips to spill beautiful melodies, to grace it with her glory. She smiled.

Four.

A few notes plucked on a banjo. One last bite of a sandwich. Boris's ears turned up toward the mic as Alice tested it. Ready.

Three.

The butcher gang hopped to their places, framed by cartoon cutouts and flowers. Painted personnel in guard uniforms waited in even rows.

Two.

Only one thing left. The king to his throne. He hoisted himself upon it, his never-fading grin widening in anticipation as the cries of excitement crested outside. His show was about to begin.

One.

The gate opened with a low rumble, chains shaking as it stretched up above. Sunlight stretched out, painting the rest of the world in color, but not them. These black and white apparitions retained their cartoon appearance before the light. Still, they stretched toward the warmth of the sunlight, something once so foreign to them, reaching out as if to catch a few rays in their fingers.

Showtime.

Trumpets blared their arrival, cartoon musicians leading the parade in a carefully timed march. Dancers sprung forth with streamers, running out with laughter and joyful cheer. They skipped and spun, cartwheeling out to lead the way. Jugglers and clowns followed. They balanced on stilts or unicycles, throwing baseballs back and forth to each other in time with the music. The butcher gang threw tomatoes and pies at each other, earning roars of laughter from the crowd as the guards chased them for their mischief, a comedy in movement. Boris's float came first a small shack with a rocking-chair on the porch. He nodded his head to the music, plucking away at the strings. He waved to the children in between notes, turning back and forth. Children with headbands mimicking Boris's ears giggled to him, and after a moment, he began throwing candy from a fake jack-o-lantern. In Bendyland, it could be Halloween in July.

Next came Alice. The trumpets were far enough ahead now that her song didn't clash with theirs. She swung her hips, back and forth, the smallest of dances as she sang out note after note. Familiar songs and lyrics, though slightly different from her cartoon voice. Few people noticed the difference, and if they did, they made no comment. She was close enough to what they knew, and no one could deny how life-like she looked on her floating stage. Cotton and cardboard clouds covered the outer edges, with cartoon cherubs dancing on the ground to pave the way for her, their angel. She winked to those waving to her, never pausing in her song, never missing a beat of the sounds that poured from speakers at her feet.

Then, finally, the star of the show. Joey always believed in saving the best for last.

Bendy hopped up from his throne as the cheers reached their highest pitch. He danced joyfully to the sounds and music that picked up again, as the rest of the orchestra followed behind his float. A throne sat on top of it where he danced now. Records and TV monitors showing off his finest moments lined his float, along with cutouts and posters of iconic scenes. He hopped and danced, running about his float. He smiled at each and every visitor, never faltering. Eventually, standing and dancing on his throne wasn't enough for the little devil, and he hopped down to run alongside it. He darted forward, waving at the crowd. Children squealed and reached out for him, but he was always just out of reach. Easily the smallest of the three cartoon creations, he barely came up to most adults' waists. He ran ahead of his float, leaping onto Alice's stage and causing mischief as he stole a puff of cotton cloud and ran on. The crowd roared as Alice wailed, crying crocodile tears that were soon replaced with more smiles as her song resumed. He darted further ahead to Boris, grabbing handfuls of candy from the bowl to throw them at the crowd himself.

He was, without a doubt, the star of the show. The epitome of all that Joey had accomplished. He appeared to be a living, breathing, being. Fantasy and dreams brought to life. Children believed the magic, giggling as Bendy would approach them to poke at balloons or try to steal bites of food. Parents wondered if it was a man in a suit, perhaps, or maybe Joey had cracked the code to creating the most realistic animatronics possible. There was no other answer to how something so cartoonish, so picturesque, could walk around among them, leaving the slightest inky footprints that would be washed away with hoses every night. Eventually, people gave up trying to decipher how the cartoons were brought to life, buying into the magic themselves, content with the fact that even though they didn't know how it was possible, it was. They didn't need to know how, to know that it was. There was an explanation that could be backed by science. Logic. They just didn't know it, and perhaps, that was part of the fun.

On cobblestones streets, it was easy to believe that dreams came true. When you could ignore the pipes bursting with ink down below, when you couldn't hear the creaking of chains and the hum of the ink machine as it churned out river after river of pure-black ink, there was nothing to fear.

The workers knew better. Allison knew better. She knew the things the adults wouldn't believe. She knew that once the crowds of people left, when the lights in the park finally shut off for the night, that these living, breathing cartoons didn't go back to power stations to recharge. She knew that no one took off costumes or wiped off makeup. She knew that when the show was over, Boris, Alice, and Bendy had an encore all their own.

The parade turned a corner, disappearing to travel further into the park, and people started to disperse. Rides and carousels designed by the famous Bertrum Piedmont begun their daily cycles, filling to the brim with people and swinging to life. Bertrum really was a spectacular designer, Allison thought as she began to walk. Probably why he was so expensive. It was almost the final straw to tipping Joey Drew studios over the edge, past the point of no return. They were financially drained. Joey dreamed big, and even though Bertrum was no stranger to big ideas, he was often very vocal of his complaints toward Joey. But after Bendy and the others sprang to life, Joey had more money than he knew what to do with, and Bertrum stopped complaining after his bills were finally paid. He made rides that amazed and excited, and some people came just to clamor onto the rides and roller coasters. There was even a haunted house open year round, though it was absolutely packed come October. Five years now they'd been running this park successfully and raking in the dough. Well, Allison assumed they were. True to his form, Joey only paid them their usual wages. Sure, they all got a bit of a raise, a bit of a bonus, but not what they were expecting or promised. Joey swore they would be. Just one more ride he wanted to build, just one more amazing attraction that he needed to invest in, and they'd start seeing more money.

Nobody complained too much. They couldn't. The stock market had crashed, and the world was reeling to recover from a Depression the likes it had never seen before. Allison was grateful to have a job, they all were, and they'd put up with the meager wages and stiff upper lip Joey had in order to keep a paycheck. Tom said once that he was surprised the park did so well, considering the country's economical state, but Allison said that it didn't really surprise her at all. People were eager for some joy in their life. People wanted to believe that everything would be alright, that dreams could come true, even for a little bit, and they'd be willing to save and spend their few precious dollars to catch a glimpse of that dream.

Turns out that behind the scenes, dreams take a lot of work. Part of what kept the park so popular was Joey keeping the studio itself up and running. Teams of animators and artists were packed into the studio to work just behind the scenes, though high-paying donors could get a tour now and then. The building sat proudly at the back of the park, and visitors often gaped at it from behind the iron fence that kept them away. Allison headed there now, though she was taking a different route. The front gate was closed of course, but workers could get in and out via the tunnels Joey built underneath, linking the entire park together. Most visitors had no idea the tunnels even existed, and they were, of course, forbidden for visitors to enter.

Allison walked through the crowds of people, standing out just enough for people to give her a few curious glances. Joey insisted that all workers dress business casual, so Allison's dark blue blazer and pencil, knee-length skirt caught attention among the swell of T-shirts and casual pants. It was better than wearing a uniform though, that would have been ridiculous. Workers were bombarded with questions about where to go and what to do, along with the occasional lost item or child. She didn't want to have to deal with all of that. So she kept her gaze forward, not paying much attention to the people who walked back and forth with cotton-candy and Bendy dolls. This park was all-too familiar to her now. The tulips and spring flowers swaying in the wind once seemed cheerful, but now had just become ordinary. Lampposts with flags and banners stating new shows fluttered, and those she would glance at. New shows were exciting, especially if it was a preview of a new cartoon being shown at a theater. Despite everything, Allison did like her job, and seeing others like what she did was encouraging. Finally, Allison reached her destination in a hidden corner of the park, behind a balloon stand and a few feet away from guest bathrooms. A small building, completely inconspicuous aside from one of the many cameras and signs positioned on top. A bright, smiling Bendy face peered down at her underneath a camera, along with the words. "Smile! You're Being Watched!" Allison looked up at it only briefly and lifted up her badge from her shirt for the camera to get a clear view.

After a moment, she heard the door unlock, and Allison pushed it open with a grunt. The heavy, metal door shut and locked behind her a moment later. Creaky wooden stairs greet Allison's, tempting her down into the dark tunnels before. Wind howled, swept through the chambers and turning from a soft breeze to a powerful gust on the right days. A hanging light swung back and forth, and inky pipes stretched out along the walls. Just out of sight of the guests, the real secret to Joey's success waited.

Allison headed down the stairs, some groaning under her feet. She had no doubt that they could break at any moment, and that Joey would do nothing to replace them until they did. She gripped the hand-rail cautiously, each step carefully planned. It was darker without the sunlight, and she headed down flight after flight. Pipes and wiring hung above her head, keeping the world above working seamlessly. Sparkle and glamour weren't needed down here. Finally, she reached the lower levels and headed down a familiar path. Occasionally the stone, cement walkways would turn or split, but Allison knew her way around after spending five years here. Another reason guests had to stay away; there was no way they would be able to find their way back out of the halls once they came in. Unless you knew where you were going, this place was an inky labyrinth. There were a few elevators off to the side that were available, but Allison always took the stairs. The creaky metal gate that opened and shut always freaked her out, and she'd take the risk of creaking stairs over swaying and crashing elevators any day.

Her heels clicked across the ground, and she focused only on what was ahead of her. Above her, she could hear coasters racing by, and dust sprayed down for a moment. She scoffed and shook it out of her hair. Gross.

Still, isn't wasn't the worst place to be. Not during the day, at least. On a sunny day like this, she didn't even have to worry about slipping. When it rained, which was often, water pooled in from cracks and under doors. Joey had built a crude drainage system, literally a pit that stretched far below where Allison could see on the edges of the walkway. Down, down, down, water mixed with ink in a foul mixture that Allison could only imagine was horrific at best. It would have to be emptied eventually, she was sure of it, but if or when Joey planned to accomplish such a feat, he hadn't shared it with anyone else. Tom grumbled quite often that when it filled up, HE would be the one to have to figure something out.

Allison felt the corner of her mouth twist up into a smile at the thought of him. Of Tom. The gruff maintenance man was a grump, through and through, with the driest sarcastic sense of humor Allison had ever seen in a man. He grumbled and complained under every breath. He kept his nose to his work, regardless of the project, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough. He didn't speak often. Kept to his work, behind the scenes.

She knew other things about him too. Things few others had the privilege of knowing. She knew that when he got nervous or embarrassed, he cleared his throat and couldn't meet anyone's eyes. She knew that he often fixed leaks or patched holes along the walkways so that ink wouldn't drip on the workers, something Joey never asked, nor likely wanted him to do, but Tom did it anyway. She knew that he didn't like music unless it was Bluegrass, something Allison often teased him about. She knew that despite his rugged, gruff appearance, that Tom was a vegetarian.

A loud clang sounded out down the path to her left, followed closely after by a string of curses and loud complaints.

Ah, yes, that was something else she knew. Tom swore like a sailor.

She turned down the path, peeking her head around the corner to see Tom standing on a small step-stool and leaning up into the pipes above. His foul curses echoed up there, drifting down to the walkway below as he growled about broken pipes and money-hogging cheapskates.

"Better be careful, Joey might hear you saying stuff like that," Allison called up to him.

"A-Allison!" Tom pulled back, banging his head on the pipe. "OW! Stupid little..." He looked down at her, then back up to the pipes and cleared his throat. "A-Ah, sorry about that ma'am."

She chuckled. "Another pipe burst?"

Tom sighed, wiping droplets of ink from his forehead. "I swear, Mr. Joey Drew has me build these pipes with the cheapest stuff he can find, and now, they're all breaking one by one. And every time one of 'em breaks, I get an earful about that blasted ink machine needing more ink. And when I ask for a better budget for more quality pipes, Mr. Joey Drew refuses. Says that the old ones can just be fixed. I'd like to see him down here in these walkways, fixing these pipes. But noooo, he's up there in fancy suits meeting with all kinds'a folks with cameras and microphones..." he fumbled about, reaching down for his wrench at his feet. Allison handed it to him. "Ah, thank you."

"Well, I think you're safe from Joey Drew coming down here," Allison said. "He doesn't tend to use these walkways often."

"Can't say I blame him with how much ink is dripping about nowadays...I'm telling ya, there's only so much my repairs can do. Give these things a couple decades, and there's nothing repairs can do. These pipes'll burst and ink'll be everywhere."

"Couple decades? Geez, I hope I'm retired by then," Allison laughed.

"You and me both. What is it that Wally always says? One more of these pipes burst and-"

"IIIIII'm outta here!" Allison finished for him. Both chuckled.

"Well, I better be going. It was good seeing you, Tom," Allison said.

"You too Miss Allison. O-oh, Miss Allison?"

Allison paused, turning back to look at him. "Yes?"

Tom opened his mouth, then closed it. He waited a moment, then turned back to the pipes. "Ah, nevermind. Have a good day at the studio ma'am."

"You have a good day too, Tom," Allison said, turning down the hall. She smiled to herself, giggling as a few moments later she heard him swearing to himself all over again.

She had a feeling she knew what Tom wanted to ask. What he'd been trying to ask for a month now. She could bring it up herself. Ask if he wanted to grab a drink after work one day, him in his overalls and her in her blazer and skirt. But part of her wanted him to get the courage to ask her. It would mean more. Allison was by no means an incapable woman, and that certainly intimidated many other men before Tom. If there was something that Tom wanted, he was going to have to find his voice sooner or later. For now, Allison would simply treasure their interactions like this one. In these dark and gloomy tunnels, it was a steady bit of sunlight.

When Allison finally walked into Sammy's studio, the band was already playing their opening songs as a warm up. Sammy watched from up above at his look-out desk, tapping his foot to the rhythm. He scowled and leaned into his mic. "Stop, stop! Do it AGAIN! This time, less trumpet. Strings, really feel that final note there at the end, draw it out a bit longer. Now, again!"

Allison opened the door to Sammy's look-out a moment later, setting her purse and jacket down in the corner. "Off to an early start today, aren't you Sammy?"

Sammy scowled. "He wants two new songs this week...this was supposed to be my catch-up week, where we fine-tuned the older songs, added in more layers. Now, he wants two new songs by Friday. I've got my work cut out for me, as always."

"Does that mean I should come back later for our recording?" Allison asked, and Sammy immediately shook his head.

"No no no, your voice will be a nice little relief compared to the noise going on down there right now. Aggh, no no NO!" Sammy leaned forward again. "Oliver, what are you doing? You're playing the piano, not pounding a drum! Delicately, gently, but with purpose! Again!" Sammy ran a hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment about Allison. His glanced over at her. She looked down at the band a bit sympathetically, but the way her mouth twisted at the corners let him know she wasn't too concerned. She looked back at him, and he looked away before she saw him staring.

Allison was pretty, in a new-age kind of way. Sammy considered himself a new-age kind of person. He liked keeping up to date on new music, finding new ways to integrate sounds into his scores. She always seemed alert, confident. She had a place here, a purpose. It made sense that she used to work on the business side of things, working with numbers. Working with her mind. She'd moved over to voicing and singing for Alice full-time after a while. Shortly after Susie...

Sammy swallowed the lump in his throat. Oh Susie. Her voice was truly heavenly. Allison's was good too, and he couldn't argue with Joey in that she knew how to sing for the cartoon, how to follow Sammy's lead and direction when matching vocals with animated mouth movements. She was a good singer. But she wasn't Susie.

"Alright," Sammy said, rising from his chair. "Take a break," he told the band. "We work on Alice's song next. Make sure you're all tuned, and for God's sake Oliver, practice a few songs on the piano before we begin." He turned to Allison. "Ready for some warm-ups? We've got a long day ahead of us. Probably some overtime in our future."

Allison shrugged. "Let's get to it then."

Outside of the studio, the park continued to thrive with life. People ran up to hug Bendy, the little inky devil posing and dancing and generally getting into mischief. Alice held shows every other hour, and they were always packed, with lines out the door. Boris played his banjo and often hung out around the food stands, eyeing the meals and fried treats hungrily. Laughter was louder than music.

At 6:30PM, right as the sun was barely starting to set, the intercoms clicked to life, momentarily static before announcing in a clear, stern voice:

THE PARK IS NOW CLOSING. PLEASE FINISH YOUR PURCHASES AND MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE EXIT.

Over and over again, the message repeated, every five minutes, until 7:00PM rolled around. Workers and personnel exited their stores, closing gates and doors and putting away any lingering merchandise. Cleaners came through and made quick work. Guards stalked the park, checking every nook and cranny for stowaways.

At 7:45PM, all park members left, locking the gates behind them. The lights flickered off, plunging the park into darkness. In the background of the now abandoned park, the studio still lit up proudly, workers staying overtime to finish their work. Even then, they looked out their windows nervously. Most finished packing up and hurried out half an hour ago. Others kept their nose to the grindstone, intending to work straight through the night.

At 8:00PM, Boris, Alice, and Bendy were left to roam the park alone.

It was 8:30PM when Sammy was finally finished with Allison. He'd offered to let her go earlier, despite having so much to do still, but she could sense how much he wanted to get done today, how much he really wanted to finish their sessions so he could get back to writing the new music. So she stayed.

"Staying through the night, Sammy?" Allison asked, grabbing her jacket.

Sammy grunted, hunched over his desk and scribbling away. She supposed that was the best answer she'd get out of him.

"Good night," she said, tossing a wave over her shoulder, knowing full well she wouldn't get the sentiment returned. Sammy was off in his own world already, singing tunes in his head that would soon turn into beautiful melodies. She didn't mind Sammy, he was just narcissistic. Used to everyone telling him he was great. Thing was, he really was great. That didn't help his personality much, though.

Allison walked through the recording studio, past flickering projection screens and now empty band-chairs, their instruments all put away for the night in their cases. Most people were already home. Allison was normally home by now herself. She didn't really like staying this late. Nobody did.

She hurried along, making her way to the exit. She paused between the front door and the underground walkway, debating which would be better and quicker to get her to her car. Ultimately, the walkway down below won. She hoped she might see Tom again. Maybe he'd finally say what he was going to ask her. With that hopeful thought, she headed back down the stairs into the quiet abyss.

It was even quieter now without the distant sounds of laughter or rides running overhead. Now, there was only the click of her heels and the occasional drop of ink into puddles on the floor. She quickened her pace.

Take a right ahead. Then straight. Then a left. Then she was there, then she was out the door and back to her car. She thought she heard a door open and close. She walked faster.

Finally, her door was in sight, just up the wooden steps. She paused to breath an audible sigh of relief. "Thank goodness..."

It's was the shadow that passed over her that made her freeze. A grumble, low, animalistic, right behind her, stretching up above her head. Allison gulped. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what to do. Just stay calm.

She turned, face to face with the deformed apparition before her. An inky demon. His eyes were covered in ink, his mouth constantly chattering up and down in silent moans. He tilted his head at her, staring at her as he leaned in close.

She trembled at the sight of him. She couldn't help it. He was terrifying. If only the guests knew, she thought to herself with a laugh.

After dark, their little devil darling turned into quite the demon.