Norman Polk
The Projectionist.

Gazing down the flight of stairs, you groaned at the sight before you. It seemed that the large room was flooded with ink.

Great. Not surprised that getting ink hearts is gonna be hard, you bitterly thought to yourself.

This Alice Angel is going to be the death of you. Figuratively or literally. The amount of times she's made you run around to do her little errands was going to drive you insane. Honestly, you were this close to ditching the errands altogether and just finding another way out with Boris.

Actually, that doesn't seem like a bad idea at this point.

For all you know, how the hell did Alice know about a way out of this hell? She wasn't even out of it herself! For all you know, she could just be lying. It wouldn't be the first time she did, anyways.

With a sigh, you decided to continue onwards, unable to really have the courage to ditch the angel since you were too afraid of her wrath already. If Bendy doesn't seem to bother her, she surely must be powerful.

You did as you were told, swiftly and silently collecting the hearts. Just as you were picking up the last ink heart with the belief that you were going to make it out unscathed, a bright light shined upon you.

A screech.

Uh Oh.

As you ran quickly away from the screeching creature, you quickly thought about Henry and Boris, hoping that they were okay still. Even if you didn't make it out alive, you hoped that Henry could at least finish what you started.

Luckily, he was currently away from your location, picking up his own share of ink hearts. At least he doesn't have to run for his life.

Reaching a dead end, you turned around and watched the creature sprint towards you. Your life flashed before your eyes at this moment.

This is it. This is really it.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the worst. The ripping of your body into pieces. Or the injection of ink into your veins. Whatever fucked up scenarios you could think of, you were ready as you could ever be.

Then it never came.

What?

You opened your eyes to see what happened. Maybe Bendy is here to destroy you and the Projectionist. When you finally opened your eyes, you were startled to see the Projectionist's supposed face right in front of yours.

He was even nice enough to dim his light so you wouldn't be blinded by his eye (?).

Blinking a few times to fully process what was happening in front of you, you tried not to move. Maybe he, like Bendy, wouldn't be able to hurt you if you didn't move. He might think you disappeared.

Then a giant hand reached up and poked your nose.

Nope. He could definitely see you.

The Projectionist said nothing and simply observed you. You could hear small clicks and soft screeches as he gently poked at your face.

Did he . . like you? Or your face? You couldn't really tell.

Carefully, you reached your shaky hand up to wrap around the one large finger poking your face and tilted your head in confusion. The Projectionist seemed to do the same.

How strange.

"What's your name?" You asked gently, careful not to disturb the sudden peace between the two of you.

The Projectionist said nothing, instead responding with a small screech and a wiggle of his finger trapped by your smaller hand.

"You can't speak, can you," you concluded. In response, the creature could only nod in return. You tried to think of a way to figure out what his name was while he wiggled his finger out of your grip to poke your face again. He also began to play with your hair.

Wait.

Projector for a head? Henry said employees like Sammy Lawrence were trapped here. Perhaps it's . .

"Norman? Norman Polk?" You gasped suddenly, causing the creature to back away, startled.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you said comfortingly, reaching out to feel the gentle warmth of his hand, his finger, his body and aura.

"I think you are Norman, right?" You repeated. If you recall correctly, you and Norman were quite close when you used to work in Joey Drew Studios as a musician. He would always stop by to listen to the orchestra play. He had to anyway, since he was usually in charge of running the projectors.

You couldn't really pinpoint a time when you two started really talking, but if you had to guess, one particular incident came to mind. You were packing up your instrument when you saw Norman approach you with a chuckle.

"That Sammy Lawrence had no right to yell at you and your section like that!" He said passionately. Of course, you were just startled at the man that suddenly approached you, but you let out a chuckle yourself.

"I suppose you're right, but hey. It's part of my job, right?" You replied back cheekily. The two of you walked home together that night, and for the first time in a while, you were quite excited to go back to work the next day.

As you two grew closer as friends, you two talked plenty about what went on in the studio, how much you hated your jobs, and your films you both loved to talk about for hours.

Now here he was, trying to touch your hair without staining it with ink. He felt more ashamed, than intimidating at this point.

Shaking your head of the memories you shared with Norman, you frowned at the creature standing before you. You weren't sure how to help him or if there even is a way to get him back to his human form.

"Oh Norman. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The Projectionist could only nod in firm agreement.