It was getting dark as Sylvia arrived home from her friend's having stayed there overnight for her birthday. Sylvia had just turned eighteen years old, which was an exciting time for her, as now she was an adult, and could make decisions on her own. However, unlike her friends, who were going to move out of their parents' homes as soon as possible, Sylvia was at a crossroads. She always wanted to have her own place, but at the same time, she didn't want to leave her grandfather. He had turned 70 just a few months ago, and Sylvia knew he would soon need constant care, despite him saying that he wouldn't. Her grandfather didn't want to hold her back from living her life, wanting her to go out, get a place of her own, get married, have kids, the usual stuff an adult woman dreams about. "I don't want you taking care of your old grandpa while you could be out living it up, as people say nowadays." as he said, with a chuckle at how people have changed since we he was young. 

Sylvia, as she sat in the car for a while, thought about all the times she had spent with her grandfather. She was around eight years old when her parents died in a plane crash. They had been on their way back home from a business trip, both of them being voice actors in cartoons, and did some Broadway shows on the side. However, they never made it home, having crash landed fifteen miles away from the airport. Sylvia and her grandfather were devastated, Sylvia having to grow up without her parents, and her grandfather having to attend his daughter and son-in-law's funeral. He told Sylvia a few years ago that he thought the last funeral he would have to attend would be his wife, Betty, or maybe an old friend. "I thought your father and mother would be attending my funeral, not the other way around." he had said, both of them visiting her parents' graves at the time. 

After shaking her head to get those sad memories out of her head, she exited the car, locking the door with her eyes before grabbing her bag from the trunk, and walking up to the porch. She then started thinking of happy memories, like how she had now lived with her grandfather for over ten years, and they had many good times since then. They had their ups and downs throughout the years, but what family hasn't? She especially loved that she had inherited her grandfather talent for drawing, having drawn him many pictures since she was nine. A tear came to her eye as she thought of all these happy memories, but wiped her tear away before unlocking the door, not wanting her beloved grandfather to worry. "Grandpa, I'm home!" Sylvia calling for him, closing and locking the door once she got into the house, her grandfather appearing around the corner soon after she locked the door. 

"There's my favorite granddaughter!" he said, hugging her as she kissed his cheek. "How did the party go?" "It was great!" Sylvia replied, smiling as they walked to the living room, Sylvia putting down her bag on the floor. "I had to take a shower because a food fight broke out when Freddy through a cupcake at Olivia, but it was really fun!" Her grandfather, Henry, smiled as he sat on the couch, Sylvia sitting next to him as he spoke. "I'm glad you had fun, sweetheart." he chuckled, smiling at her as he brushed some hair behind her ear. "Your first night as an adult should be celebrated with your friends, dancing, talking about boys, or whatever kids like nowadays." Sylvia punched his arm slightly as her grandfather laughed, blushing as she spoke. "Grandpa! You know I'm not into dating guys right now!" she said, Henry chuckling as he patted her should. "I know, I know, I'm just playing with you." he said, smiling at his, now grown, granddaughter. 

Sylvia then frowned as she thought of something, looking up at him with a guilty look in her eyes. "W-Were you okay while I was gone?" she asked, Henry smiling and hugging her as he replied. "Of course I was, Sylvia, don't worry about me." he said, a tear coming to his eye as he knew his little girl wasn't so little anymore. "I've had a few bumps and bruises in my life, I'm sure I can handle you spending the night with your friends for one night." Sylvia chuckled and nodded, hugging him as he patted her head. "Grandpa......do I have to move out, since I'm eighteen?" Sylvia asked, her grandfather looking at her with a rather surprised expression. "Of course not, Sylvia! You can stay with me until the day I die, and I wouldn't care." he said, causing Sylvia to bolt up and look at him. 

"Don't say that, you're not gonna die anytime soon!" she said, dreading the thought of her grandfather dying. Her grandfather was the only family she had left, the others having died a long time ago. She didn't want to be alone in the world, though she knew that, one day, she would be. Henry sighed and looked at her, placing his hands on her shoulders as she spoke. "Sylvia, you're not gonna be alone after I die, if that's what you're thinking." He said, cupping her cheek with his hand, Sylvia looking up at him with teary eyes. "You'll have your friends, and I'm sure you'll find a gentleman that will love you and take care of you one day." he said, his heart tearing up as he saw Sylvia tearing up. "B-But.....you're the only family I have." Sylvia whimpered out, Henry frowning and hugging her close as he let a tear slip, petting her hair gently. 

"I know, I know, but one day you'll have your own family, I promise you that." he said, kissing her forehead as he pulled back to look at her, wiping her tears with his thumb. "I do want at least one grandchild before I leave." Sylvia giggled as she wiped her tears, knowing that he was kidding with her as she smiled at him. "O-Okay.....I love you, grandpa." she said, making Henry smile and hug her close. "I love you too, Sylvia." 

A few hours later, Henry had gone off to bed, Sylvia volunteering to do the dishes that night, since Henry had cooked her favorite soup, bacon soup. Her grandfather made the best bacon soup she had ever tasted, and the best her friends had ever tasted as well. Her and Henry also played a few cards games before bed, Sylvia finally winning against him at poker in while. As she washed the dishes, listening to the TV play a documentary about the 1920s, something came to Sylvia's mind. Her grandpa always made bacon soup for her when she felt like it, but never used three bacon soup cans they had had since she was nine. She figured that they were old an unusable by now, but why didn't her grandfather just simply throw them away? He had always told her never to play with them, touch them, and most of all, NEVER to open them. 

Sylvia had always asked her grandfather why, but he would always say it was a secret, or completely change the subject altogether. She remembered that one day her grandfather had gone out to his old workplace, which was about twenty to thirty miles away from the house. He had been gone longer than he said he would, it almost being midnight when he came back. She noticed that his arms, legs, chest, and neck were scratched and bruised up for a month or so after he came home, and had some strange black stains all over his clothing for a while, till he finally decided to throw them away. She thought at first that he brought the cans back as souvenirs and keepsakes from his old workplace, along with the other stuff he brought back with them. However, he never treated them as such. 

He would sometimes look at them with a nervous or fearful expression, and would remind Sylvia every so often not to go even anywhere near them. He always kept them at the back of the highest shelf in the living room, below where he kept his books, nick knacks, and the other things he had brought back from his old workplace. She knew that her grandfather had been an animator and artist when he was younger, which would explain why he brought some ink and pen back, but soup cans? They also had this happy-looking cartoon character on them, which had a big grin on his face, and looked similar to the old cartoons she used to watch on TV, when the channel would play them now and again as a tribute to the 1920s and 30s. 

So, why in the world did he bring back the soup cans, and why did he never let anyone around them. He would even panic a bit when a thunderstorm came through, and when lightening would shake the house, running to see if the soup cans had moved even an inch, or centimeter for that matter. He checked on them every day, as if they were prized possessions, but if they were, he wouldn't look so nervous or scared when he looked at them. As Sylvia finished washing the dishes, dried them, and put them away, she walked into the living room to grab her bag and turn off the TV before bed. However, overwhelming curiosity that had built up over the years consumed her, and looked up at the cans. She always had wondered what was in them, having practically begged her grandfather to tell her, but he never did. 

Curiosity then got the better of her, and she quietly tiptoed through the hall, putting her bag down on her bed, and then tiptoed to the hall closet. She then got out the metal ladder he used to fix a light bulb and whatnot, and quietly took it over to the shelves. She was much shorter than her grandfather, him being 5'10 and her being 5'4, so she couldn't reach the shelf on her own. She then placed the ladder in front of the shelves, and stepped up the two steps on it. Once she was on the second step, she came face to face with the soup cans, neatly lined up in a row. They still looked the same way they did when he had brought them home eight years ago, looking old and faded, looking like the ones they made in the 1930s, which they probably were from that time. She then carefully took one of the soup cans, looking at it, turning it a few times to see it all. 

She did this with the other two as well, wondering what was so special about them. Sure, she'd understand if they were made out of glass or something, but these were just regular, old bacon soup cans. She also thought the little cartoon character on the soup cans was pretty cute, figuring it was a cat or something by the two points on its head. That was until she looked on the back of the cans, seeing it had words printed on it saying, "Just the way the little devil likes it." Sylvia then figured the cartoon character was a devil, not a cat. She shrugged it off though, some cartoon characters looking the same, but being totally different things anyway. After having her curiosity quenched for the moment, though still curious what was in the cans, and what made them so special, she started to put them back on the shelf. 

However, just as she was about to push them to the back of the shelf, where she had found them, the ladder slipped out from under her, one of the legs having finally given out on it. She then felt like she was in slow motion, feeling herself falling back to the floor. Sylvia tried to grab onto to something to save her from the fall, but she accidentally knocked something off the shelf.....the soup cans. She then crashed to the floor, along with hearing the soup cans crashed to the floor as well. Henry immediately burst out of his room, running to the living room in his pajamas to see what that loud noise was. He then panicked when he saw Sylvia on the floor, rubbing her head as she tried to sit up, the now-broken step ladder also on the floor. He ran over and knelt beside her, helping her sit up as he spoke. "Sylvia, what on earth happened?!" he asked, looking down at her, making sure she wasn't badly injured. "What were you doing?!" 

His questioned was then answered when he saw something black on the floor out of the corner of his eye. He looked over towards the TV, and saw the three soup cans a few feet in front of it.....broken open. Before he could say or do anything, something black shot up from one of the cans, Henry helping Sylvia up and pushing her into the hallway, ordering her to get behind him. Sylvia had no idea what was going on, confused and scared at the same time. The black mass of liquid then started to take a shape, slowly forming into a figure of a tall man, horns coming up from his head. The liquid then started to take the form of a tall, well-dressed man, which looked to be around his early to mid twenties. He had black hair, small black horns, grayish pale skin, slightly pointed ears, and dark red eyes. He wore a black, long-sleeved dress shirt; a grayish black vest; a small black cloak that went down to his waist, with red in the inner part of it, along with a hood over his head. He also wore white gloves and a small white bow tie, looking like a person dressed as a devil for Halloween. A small white name tag was also attached to his waistband, with the name "Bendy" written on it in ink, the man having a mysterious and devious aura about him. 

He took a minute to look over himself before smirking, and looking up at Henry, not seeming to notice Sylvia hiding behind him, speaking in a not-too-deep voice. 

"Long time no see, Henry." 

(Found picture on Google images; searched up Bendy and the Ink Machine soup cans)