15 year old Eve Potter clutched the letter in her hands and looked up at the decrepit building in front of her. "Guess this is the place. I wonder why Mr. Drew wants to see me, though." She said aloud, and reread the letter, as if hoping she missed an important clue in it.

'Dear Eve, I saw that you were interested in animation and decided to reach out to you. I knew your grandfather, Henry, and he and I started an animation company together. If you're interested, come by the old workshop. The address is on the envelope. Signed, Joey Drew.

Eve sighed, then put the letter back in her pocket. She walked to the front door, and went inside. The inside looked a lot better than the outside did, and that was saying something. The wood in front of the door creaked ominously when she put her weight on it, causing her to gulp and gingerly step to the side, where it seemed safer.

She walked in to the main room and stared in amazement. Even covered in cobwebs the way it was, it looked amazing. "Hello? Mr. Drew? I'm here... Like you asked..." she yelled tentatively. 'Guess he's not here yet. I don't think Mr. Drew will mind if I look around, though. This place is awesome!' Eve thought to herself. Wandering around, she came across an old Bendy plushie, that squeaked when she picked it up. Smiling to herself, she stuck it in her pocket happily, and got back to exploring.

On a table, she found a tape recorder with a piece of tape on it, with the name Wally Franks on it. Curious, Eve pushed play. She certainly wasn't expecting what she heard, though.

'At this point, I don't know what Joey's plan for the company is. The animations certainly aren't finished on time anymore. And I certainly don't see why we need this machine. It's noisy, it's messy, and who needs that much ink, anyways!? Also, get this; Joey had us each donate something from our work stations. He puts them on these little pedastals in the break room. To help appease the gods, Joey says. Keeps thing going. Personally, I think he's lost his mind. But, hey, he writes the checks. But I'm telling ya, if one more of these pipes bursts, I'm outta here!'

"Huh... Wonder what he meant by machine?" Eve wondered aloud. She looked around and saw a directory on the wall. One of the available directions was, 'The Ink Machine'. She decided to go that way, and proceeded down the hallway. Stopping to step over the pipe in the middle, she came out onto a balcony. She saw the lift, and decided it needed some dry cells. She found the cells on a shelf and in a trunk, and placed them in the lift.

Machinery started, and the machine came out of its hiding place in the floor. Eve whistled in appreciation of the size of the machine. "Wally was right, that's a lot of ink!" she exclaimed when she saw the pipes on the bottom. "I wonder how you turn it on?" She left the balcony and found a room off to the side. Going inside, she found the pedestals that Wally was talking about. Each one had a picture over them. Altogether, the items needed was; An ink bottle, a record, a wrench, a cogwheel(or a gear), a plushie and a book.

Eve placed the plushie on the corresponding pedestal and watched it kind of click in acknowledgment. Nodding to herself, she went to hunt down the rest of the things she needed. She found the gear in the trunk on the balcony, the book in the break room, the ink bottle at an old desk with a picture of Bendy that changed whenever she looked away ("... Okay... Imma gonna go now...) and the record was in a little closet of a workroom.

She was now looking for the wrench. She had checked all the rooms, or so she thought. Turning the corner, she came face to face with a horrible sight. Dropping everything, she covered her mouth in shock and horror. Right in front of her was Boris, strapped to a table, and his chest was opened in a grisly manner. The wrench was in the cavity of his chest. Closing her eyes, Eve tugged the wrench free, and fled the room as fast as she could.

Returning to the pedestal room, she placed everything where it belonged. She tried to turn it on, then saw that it said 'low pressure'. She went to the projector room that she found the plushie in and turned the valve. It was obvious that it hadn't been used in years. It was very difficult to turn, but Eve managed to get it working. When she saw that the pipe in front of the door was leaking, she sighed in despair, then slogged through. She returned to the pedestal room and threw the switch.

Everything got bright for a second, then dimmed down to manageable levels. She walked slowly to the Ink Machine, unable to help it as unease swirled around inside her. She turned the corner and saw that the entrance was all boarded up. "What the..?" she exclaimed in shock, then was knocked back as something hit her in the chest.

Eve looked up and saw a tall and... Quite frankly, a scary looking version of Bendy. He looked at her and said, "Little Creator... You came." Eve stood up and bolted. She wasn't sticking around! She could figure out why he called her that later! "Come back! It's not safe!" Bendy shouted, giving chase. Eve ran through the ink that was flooding the place. Metal doors were slamming into place, then denting from the sheer force of the ink. The ceiling collapsed in some places, causing ink to rain down on her. Eve saw the exit door was partially open, and ran for it gratefully. She forgot one little thing though.

The floor in front of the door was straining under the ink, and when Eve added her weight to it, it broke under her feet, causing her to scream in terror at the sudden plummet. She landed in a room that was waist deep in ink. Coughing, trying to get the stuff out of her mouth, she stood up and looked around. She saw a tape recorder, this time with the words 'Thomas Conner' on it.

'It's cold, and it's dark, and it's stuck in behind every wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clear up to my knees! Whoever thought these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure I don't, or he's an idiot. But the real worst part about all this... are them noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on its last legs. Make no mistake, this place... this... machine... heck, this whole darn thing... it just isn't natural. You can bet, I won't be doing anymore repair jobs for Mister Joey Drew.'

Eve stared at the recording. 'Ok, so Wally wasn't the only one who didn't like the Ink Machine. And I guess the leaks were common. And if the ink ever got that high, then there should be some drains or something' she thought to herself, looking around. Spotting a valve on a pipe, she slogged over and twisted it. The ink drained out of the room, revealing some stairs. She walked over to the desk in the corner and grabbed the ax that was on top. Giving it a few experimental swings, she said, "That'll come in handy."

Eve walked down the stairs, into another ink-filled room. This time, the ink was mid-chest high, and Eve could barely see the valve. She twisted that one, then walked down the next flight of stairs into the next ink-filled room. The ink was up to her neck now, and she had to feel around the pipe for the valve. When the ink drained out, a door was revealed. She walked over and opened it up cautiously, just in case. When nothing popped out at her, she deemed it safe to move on.

She walked into the room and looked around. There was coffins lining the walls, and a ritual circle with random shapes in it. Eve decided to stay as far away from that as possible. She began looking for a way out, when she heard an odd noise behind her. It sounded like someone breathing. Eve whirled around and backed up slowly. She took three steps back, when suddenly her head throbbed with pain. The room felt like it was shaking, and all she could hear was ringing. She looked down and noticed she had accidentally stepped into the ritual circle.

Eve suddenly saw three images in quick succession; the Ink Machine, a wheelchair and Bendy. She collapsed onto the circle, ears still ringing. The last thing she saw before she blacked out, was a pair of black legs next to her. She then succumbed to the blissfulness of unconsciousness.