Norman Polk P.O.V.

I opened the creaky door to the studio, walking inside. I'll admit, the place had seen better days, but it didn't bother me. The hall to the main room was littered with posters for animations Joey Drew Studios had come up with, reading
"Bendy in: The Dancing Demon",
"Bendy in: Little Devil Darlin'"
and "Bendy and Boris in: Sheep Songs."
Sheep songs had been one of my favorite, second only to "Bendy and Boris go to Hell in a Hand Basket."

I made my way to the projector room and noticed a few reels already strung into the projector. "That's weird... I thought I put those away..." I muttered to myself. Out of curiosity, I turned on the projector and watched the film.

It was just a looping idle animation of Bendy. I shrugged and went to turn on the Ink Machine, leaving the projector rolling.

Joey atleast had the presence of mind to turn the bloody thing off when we all left, especially with how much it flooded. I found myself trudging though ankle-deep ink just to get to the power room. When I actually got there, to my annoyance and surprise, it was already on, meaning I'd forced my way to it for nothing.

That did explain the leaks. Poor ol' Franks, he was gonna be pissed when he saw this. I slowly made my way over to Sammy's office. He always complained about the pump switch, with people running in and out all day, every day, but it was either interrupt the poor music director, or let our work stations get flooded.

Trust me, if those reels got stained, the entire animation would be ruined, and nobody would be happy about that, especially not Mr. Drew.

I made my way to the office, noticing that the annoyed music director was no where to be seen. I pulled the lever, and started back down to my own station. The ink hadn't quite cleared when I got down, but it was traversable.

I got back to the projector room, and noticed the animation was gone. Not like it had just finished, but the reel itself was missing. I glanced around, hoping to find the animation reel laying on the ground somewhere.

All I saw was a layer of ink, which I could have sworn was rising. Something tugged at my foot, but I simply shook it off, assuming it was just the current of the ink. I continued looking for the likely ruined reel, before something grabbed my shirt, and dragged me under the pitch black layer of ink.

I scrambled to grab onto something, anything to keep my upright, but all I managed to do was drag the projector down with me. It hit me square on the head, and everything went black.

✒ ✒ ✒

When I finally came to, everything hurt, though, my shoulder, head and chest had it the worst. Honestly, part of me was convinced that, if I had run my skull through a buzzsaw, then let a semi run over it, it would have hurt less.

I was leaning against an old wooden box, up to my knees in ink. Everything I saw was bathed in a dim amber light, giving the ink a strange, golden shine. I picked up one of my arms, and looked at it. As expected, it was coated in black ink.

"Remind me to take a shower when I get home..." I muttered to myself, only to realize the sound wasn't coming from my mouth. Looking myself over fully, I noticed a few things:

An ink-stained reel sunken halfway into my shoulder, a large, equally messy speaker embedded into my chest, and several wires running from the back of my skull to said speaker, as well as to a few spots on my arms and legs.

That explains... Some of this.. I thought, poking the speaker. I pulled myself to my feet with some difficulty, and glanced around. I recognized the area as one of the lower levels, but I couldn't quite put my finger on which one.

There was an audio recorder on the box I had been leaning against, with the label 'Voice of: Norman Polk'. I chuckled, finding it ironic. Clearly, whatever I was now, I wasn't Normam anymore.

I trudged around the large, flooded room for a good while, not willing to venture into any of the corridors coming off of it. There where a few metal pipes laying around. I looked at one, but what stared back was a bit confusing, to say the least. Where my head should be, rested a large, clunky projector.

That explained the light.. And the migraine..

I slowly walked away from the metal pipe, registering what I saw. Shaking my head, I started walking towards one of the corridors. I had a feeling I'd be there for a very long time, might as well explore.