#jfc this took me ages bc sammys a weird read to lock onto..

[trickstercheebs]

Sheep Song Prophet

just a little musing of the games events from Sammy’s pov. Dudes a unhinged but is he the only one to blame?

The studios weren’t always this run down and silent were they? No of course they weren’t..Once they were clean and sang with life from music and art working hand in hand. A shaky unity of sorts but one that had made many happy years ago. One would never think such a dark and empty shell of a building had once been bursting with creativity..But it had been.

It had gone quiet some untold time ago, how long wasn’t important any longer..The halls had fallen silent in wait, the building itself slowly falling into ruin. But that was fine to those few souls inside. A lone figure stalked the halls attending to what little chores kept him awake, his lord would always come first after all..A true labor of love was made of each of these shrines devoted to him that would set them all free..But all good followers need to sleep, and soon he settles down for a rest once more...

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“Sammy how’s that last chorus coming along? We’re almost done with the shots if you wanna get a idea of things for the final piece.”

“Agh..thanks Henry I’ll be over in a moment..I’ve been having trouble getting any ideas for the last part but Joey wants this song done by the end of the week..I don’t know how you put up with that man and his idea of scheduling..”

“Trust me it’s not easy..he gets one idea into his head and out onto paper..the next thing we know five other ideas pop up..But he does have his moments I guess and it all works out. Don’t worry about it Sammy we’ll get it all done.”

Life had been hectic but manageable, but life liked throwing curveballs and things shifted and changed. A war had came and many left to help fight for the good cause, he had missed it thanks to some reason or another..but a few in the studios had left..including that one animator that seemed to have kept the peace between the studio branches and the head. He didn’t think much on them leaving..what was one animator to a musician after all?

He remembered the war being hell on all fronts, cartoons weren’t doing so well and supplies were getting hard to find along with a audience..The studio was shut down for a brief time then, Joey claiming he was “remodeling for the long run, and we’d thank him in the end.” What that meant he couldn’t care to know, Joey never made sense when he met him..and he felt he’d never make sense. When he and the others returned they were showed this so called glorious..”Ink Machine” as Joey so excitedly dubbed it....The entire studio had been worked over to make room for this wonky looking thing and all the pipes it apparently needed to be able to run.

The first pipe explosion should of told him what to expect of all this nonsense Joey kept raving about. His clean music studio was soon marred by this foul ink in growing pools and “accidents” with the piping flooding and bursting throughout the rest of the studio. He was furious when two of his finished pieces were destroyed, he remembered wanting to trudge through that ink and socking Joeys front teeth out. They fought for hours with Joey finally conceding to “fixing” the problem. The solution was to stick a pump in his studio..and the main controls for it in his own office, a personal jab at him for back talking most likely....typical of Joey Drew.

The distractions only grew with time, the flooding kept on happening and staff were getting irritated at getting their clothes stained with the ink, a few more unfortunate souls getting caught under broken pipes and drenched with the stuff. Something about this ink was insufferably hard to wash out, of both clothes and skin, it clung on desperately like a lost child to the point he had scrubbed himself raw more than once to be rid of it..His clothing were either ruined or tossed out, having to get clothing that could withstand a brutal cleaning without coming out looking horrible. But sacrifices must be made after all..his love of music was the only thing keeping him there..it wasn’t like he couldn’t find work elsewhere, he felt drawn back to the studio every morning anew..like a lost sheep being called by its Shepard..

To combat the distractions and bothersome outsiders, he began staying later and later into the night..The cleaning staff soon seeing him regularly before deadlines with hardly any sleep and practically soaked through with ink. Some of his more closer musician staff would voice their worries for his health, that he was growing thin and gaunt now. But he would press on, it wasn’t like the ink was going to bother him once he got going strong..Some days he didn’t even bother with the long process of scrubbing it all off and slept at the studio in his “private sanctuary” away from Joey and the world. They needed to be finished after all, they demanded it and who was he to deny..his lord his proper offerings? He slept little, toiling on the perfect songs for them for countless hours, not bothering to leave his studio for days on end now. He started eating less as the general need or want for such things left him..they both were distractions from his craft, only when he felt himself grow faint would he bother with something quick..Those cans of soup did wonders despite the taste. Not even the ink soaking him to the bone would deter him any longer..it was them telling him they were pleased with his music. Such a lovely voice his god had..crooning softly into his ear when all else had fallen silent. The others had fled such a promising life, he couldn’t understand why..the world outside was no longer deserving of his talents..He had found a much better audience now wanting his music, and him as well...

He could still hear his lords soft voice in the stillness of the dark, urging him on to continue his ways..To lead his lost sheep and cull the non-believers from the flock..He had worked so hard..he had been chosen by their dark lord to be his prophet..and he would not disappoint. He couldn’t wait to obtain his lord’s attention at last..he has waited so long after all...

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A deep churning groan woke Sammy from his fitful slumber..He didn’t really remember what he dreamt of..none of it mattered or made sense anymore...That wasn’t his lord moving about was it? No..the pipes..they were alive with his ink once more..they hadn’t moved in so long. It was quiet enough to hear the faint stumbling about above him..a lost little sheep had found it’s way to them..It didn’t take long for them to be led astray and fall down to his part of the studio..Perhaps this was a sign? Perhaps this was the sheep he had been waiting for to give to his lord..

Slinking out from his sleeping spot he spied the other..a man slinking about one of his altars listening to one of his recordings..How cute. When the man didn’t follow his old voice asking for a amen..he spoke up wondering if this was a heathen unbeliever wandering about. The man whipped about, scared of his sins being found out no doubt...He’d do nicely. Moving ahead he grabbed one of his other altar pieces to move back into place..the searchers tended to move them now and again, poor mindless things..He heard the mans voice calling out to him for help..Oh he’d help soon enough, once the man had come closer to his personal altar...

It took patience, watching his poor searchers fall to that non believers axe, and for them to tamper with his personal sanctuary and instruments..but it had all paid off didn’t it? A quick swing to the back of the head and they were out like a light..The man coming too as he tied the last knot in place.

“Wh..what’s going on here, what are you do-”

“Shhh shh...hush now my little sheep..I’m so honored you came down here to visit me..it almost makes what I’m about to do seem...cruel..”

The sheeps face sparked a memory..did..did he know this sheep? A name tugged at the back of his mind..No..that part of his life no longer mattered, and neither did this sheep. He needed Bendy to notice his most devoted and beloved prophet. Hearing the other struggle uselessly he slipped away to summon his lord..They were close he told them, crawling above in wait...

He didn’t expect his lord to come to him..why not his sheep? His sacrifice?? Had he not been true? Had he not be devoted for so long, forgoing the world outside to pledge his undying love and devotion to no one else..? He let out one last scream of fear as his beloved “God” took him into his arms at last..but not in the way he expected..