Chapter Text
She'd begged them, pleaded with them to protect her friend, but the keeper did not understand why. It did not make sense. This Sammy Lawrence, 418, he was decreasing her chances of survival. This world was kill or be killed, why would she cling so tightly to someone that would ultimately lead to her downfall? It did not compute.
But the keeper was not one to pass up an opportunity for data. This subject, 214, was a strange one. Feisty, resilient, and yet, strangely cooperative. She didn't start fights with them the way the others did, but there was a venom in her voice when she answered his questions. She was filled with so many strange emotions, the keeper was unfamiliar with such circumstances. It was all so new, so fresh. He had to find out more.
So when she offered herself up to their scientific studies, he was all too eager to consult Wilson to let them do it. The keeper had so many questions, there were so many secrets locked inside of 214. He had to have them for himself.
"You may run your experiments, so long as you keep a close eye on her." Wilson stroked his chin, deep in thought. "These Cyclebreakers will try to trick you into letting them escape. You must remain vigilant in keeping them contained. They have a purpose to fulfill."
"Understood." What more was there for him to say? That seemed fairly straightforward.
"One more thing," the old man wheezed with labored breath. "If she gives you any data on the golden ink, report it to me immediately." Wilson's eyes gazed directly into the keeper's light, squinting harshly at the brightness. "It is a top priority."
The keeper nodded. "As you wish, Master Wilson."
"Very good my dear. Now go, don't keep your subject waiting.
The keeper slithered back into the pit. It was a standard night, checking in on all the prisoners. 928 was as riled up as ever. 414 was dejected and sulking in the corner, seemed par for the course. 418 was raving like a madman, pacing back and forth and whispering to himself, like he was having a conversation with someone who wasn't there. But the keeper knew that could not be the case. There was no one there but 418.
But 214, she sat in the corner of her cell, back against the wall and thick bangs covering her face. For a moment the keeper wasn't sure she was awake. But his hand on the glass got her to perk up, looking at him nervously. She got up and walked over, placing a hand to mirror him. She did not speak. Perhaps she was waiting for him to initiate.
"Wilson has decided. He will let you care for 418. In exchange, you will help us advance our studies of the ink."
The way she lit up perplexed him. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice strained, but it sounded joyful. Or at least, they assumed it was joyful, this seemed to match Wilson's description of joy.
Was she also interested in science? He was unsure. This would be a most enriching experience. The other Keepers were dealing with containing the Ink Demon, and now he had a pet project of his own. They would come to understand so much more about the ink, about the creatures of this realm. Such strides would help them to build what they were after: a perfect, orderly society.
The keeper would never admit it, but they had questions about the nature of their creation. They did not fully make sense. Why were they built like this, how did it factor into serving their purpose? Was their purpose just as scientists and enforcers, or something more? He did not know, for himself or for any of them. But he wanted to know. He was not built the same way as the creatures Joey Drew had crafted. What made them so different? The man's research was something only Wilson was privy to, documents he would not share. He would have to find answers for himself.
"When do we start?" She asked.
That snapped them from their thoughts. A reasonable inquiry, perhaps she was eager to begin such endeavors. But it would have to wait.
"The testing room must be sterilized. Get some rest. I will wake you when it is time to begin."
That was the best he could give. Time did not have clear limits here, the concept of an hour hardly meant anything in eternity. He would like to be able to set exact expectations. Perhaps he could find a unit of measurement that would be suitable for this purpose.
The subject nodded. "Thank you, Mister Keeper. I look forward to seeing you then."
Mister? That was a new one. "You are dismissed."
She sighed and nodded, walking back to the corner of her cell. There wasn't much to it, barely even a place to sleep, but she would try. He knew she would try.
He slithered over to the other cells, making sure everything was in its place. Everything seemed to be in order. The raving 418 was still pacing, muttering to himself.
"My lord, my lord, answer me! Please, please please please I need you. Answer my prayers, answer them! Do not let this heretic get the best of you! Send me a sign, a signal, anything! Let me out so I may aid you- "
"418."
The man jerked around at the window and banged on the glass. "Let me out of here! My lord requires my presence!"
"That is not authorized." The keeper stated plainly. "The ink demon is in its place, and you are in yours."
"He NEEDS ME!-"
"It is none of your concern now, 418." The keeper shined his light in the man's face. "I am here to report that you will be cared for in our facilities. The subject instructed I tell you your 'little ewe' was here to help."
"My sheep?" The man didn't even flinch at the light. "What have you done with her?!"
"It is contained, much like yourself. You would do well to rest if you wish to see her sooner."
The subject banged his fists against the glass. "Let me see her! She is too fresh of blood, she needs my guidance!"
"She will see you in the morning." The keeper put a finger to his forehead against the glass. "Goodnight, 418."
The subject struggled to keep it together, as the waves of enforcement hit his mind, willing him to go limp. He tried so hard to fight it, the keeper could feel his resistance. But his fractured mind was weak, and easily persuaded into slumber. He fell to the ground in a heap, fast asleep and quiet. Just as it should be. The less loud noises, the better it was for everyone.
The next day, if one could really call it that, started off normally. The keeper saw their subject waiting for him. They noted her ticks, rubbing at her arm, pulling at her hair a little, straightening out her pants. They did little to change her situation, perhaps these were involuntary movements. He opened up the door to her cell, getting a firm grip on her arm with his own, the lower hand on his conjoined arm. That part he understood, easier to contain prisoners with two hands and still have one free. Wilson must have thought that through. He brought her over to 418's cell, where the man had finally come to, albeit, shaken from the experience. Once they were inside and the door was promptly locked, he let go.
She ran to 418 and held him tightly in her arms. "Sammy!" She cried out. "Oh thank goodness, you're alright!"
"My sheep," he held her tightly in turn, his ink dripping, bleeding into hers. "Y-you have ascended further! Oh this is most joyous, the Lord has given you his blessings in my absence, there is hope!"
She looked at him, incredulously. "What are you talking about? I haven't-"
"You have your legs back! And your ink, oh it pulses in time! It is like his heartbeat, strong, a grand drum that guides a symphony! You have come so far in such a short time, I am proud of you my sheep!" He held her tighter.
"Wait, wait, whoa." She let go and pushed him back a little. "Sammy…I've been this way for a while." There was fear creeping into her voice. That was an emotion he recognized all too well. "You…you were there for it. You're the one that helped me do this." She looks at the keeper, her own ink starting to drip. "What-"
"I…I was there? My sheep…my ewe…" he took her hand and squeezed it. "I…I am sorry. I don't…I don't recall these events. I…I succeeded, in helping you? I am honored. Finally, I did my duties in full then."
She took her hand and held the side of his face, her own twisted in agony, though she tried so desperately to hide it, it was not working. She tried to slip his mask aside. He grabbed her hand firmly.
“No!” His breath was harsh, but his grip softened. “No…my sheep. I am unworthy.”
“Then may I feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“Your face.”
He had to think about that for a moment. “...You may.”
214 gently took her hand under his mask, running her fingers over it. The keeper was not sure why, there was nothing under there. It was as blank as the mannequins. But he noted how her fingers trembled at the touch. Had she been expecting something there?
"Sammy…I need to take a look. Will you let me in?"
"Oh another gift from our Lord, I would be most honored to receive such treatment from one of his chosen few! Please, come in!" He took her free hand and squeezed it in both of his own. "Gaze in and behold the greatness of his love!"
She nodded, slowly before holding him close to her for another moment. Her ear laid against his chest, listening to his heart they presumed. Her hand lit up in gold, markings they had not seen before crackling through her inky skin. The design was abstract and beyond his comprehension, but it held his attention. Holding that hand on the other side of 418’s head, she listened. She was always listening.
She was not 214 in her mind. Such a number was meaningless as a name. She was Bella Ewe. And it was her job to undo Joey Drew's mess, set them all free. Something was wrong with Sammy, this wasn't her prophet, this wasn't her mentor. He hadn't acted like this since…since early on when they'd first met. What had Wilson done to him?
The golden ink was a gift, one that allowed her to see into places she hadn't ever dreamed of. She couldn't risk diving so deep in the prison, she had to maintain a physical form on the surface, lest there be suspicion. But looking into Sammy's soul was subtle enough that she could probably get away with it. So she did. Dive was a powerful ability, none had quite the knack for healing broken souls the way she did, and Sammy's was one she'd seen many times before. She knew it rather intimately, what it was supposed to look like, what it looked like when he was broken and when he was whole.
But she never anticipated this.
Deep within the landscape of the ink, she found her consciousness floating within his inner sanctum. His soul was….scrambled. It still blazed with a bright light, it always had when his passion flared. But so many things about it were wrong. It looked like someone had tried to break it again, pieces were missing, like they'd been haphazardly ripped away. There were holes. And all too fast it started to dawn on her. He'd been reset .
She'd seen this before, there was a time when Joey tried to send him back to the way he was before they crossed paths, to turn him against her. But that was fixable, all the pieces were there to put him back together. This…this was not. The holes had nothing to fill them, or at least, most of them didn't. There was something strange, for the first time she could see color in their world. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen color! But there was a rainbow in there. And the blues….the blues like his eyes were said to have been, the blues Jack had confessed he missed, there it was. It was a beautiful blue too, she understood why he liked it.
She reached out a hand and tried to touch it. "Sammy," she whispered. "It's me, Bella, your apprentice. Do you…remember me?"
The flame of his soul lurched closer to her, wrapping its fire around her arms, as if to hold her hands. "My sheep, my most wonderful sheep, you are most impressive! What do you see?"
"Your soul…it's been fractured." She stated in disbelief. "Someone has touched you that had no business being in here." She held the flames tighter.
The flames quivered. "I..don't recall that. Are you sure?"
"Very sure." She held him closer to herself. "It's not your fault, it must be something truly heinous if it got to you here." She ran her fingers over the fire gently. "I will do my best to make you whole again, recover your missing pieces. It's what our Lord would want for you." It pained her to speak that way again, but she knew she had to. Sammy was in no state to talk without his prophet speech, she had to be gentle with him.
"I trust you, my sheep. You have his blessings, his favor. You will make us strong again, worthy of being called his shepherd, his prophet, once more. Of that much, I have faith."
She tried so hard not to cry. It was so hard, seeing him reduced to this.
"You are so wonderful, my prophet." She squeezed his soul a little tighter. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you…"
"It's not your fault, my little ewe." The flames reached up and evaporated her tears. "I know not what did this to us, but all will be mended soon enough. You will set me free, so that he may set us free."
"I will. I promise." She said it with such conviction, and she meant it. She didn't know how, but she would do it, no matter the cost. Wilson would not get away with what he did to Sammy, that was a promise. "May I sing for you, my shepherd? The Lord gave me a song for you, perhaps it would help soothe your pains."
"Please, bestow your gifts upon us sheep!"
She nodded and let go, stepping back in the abyss. With her arms in position, she gripped the air like she would her instrument. The golden lyre slowly materialized in her arms, truly a gift from Bendy to help them in their travels. A gift from Jack…to inspire, to give them hope. She played their song diligently, plucking the strings with care. It was so full of life, full of love, but it didn't come from Bendy. No, this was a song of their creation. Her, Sammy, and Jack, they made it together, a song to heal the hurting, to guide the lost. And she played it as gently as ever, the notes wrapping around his soul and pulsing in time with his heart. She could feel the air grow cooler in the calm, and some of the holes started to fill.
But at a certain point, the progress halted. So that's how it was gonna be, huhn? Fine, she'd just have to keep treating him, like an antibiotic. She'd fix him, she had to.
"Did you like it?" She asked meekly.
"You play splendidly, my sheep. A bit sharp, but quite skilled."
Of course he'd be critical. But that told her he was getting better. She would take comfort in that. "Thank you, Sammy." She smiled softly. "I must return to the surface, lest our captors grow suspicious." She put her instrument away and held his soul one last time. "Wilson and his Keepers are a force to be reckoned with. I don't know what they're capable of, but we have to be careful. They cannot know what I have done here, for if they knew I was trying to bring you back to your full strength, I would not be allowed to come back. I need you to pretend that I'm here for a lesser purpose, a sheep to calm your supposed 'hysteria'. Can you do that for me?"
"My sheep, my lips are sealed. They shall know nothing of our true goals, that much I can assure you. Our Lord requires a stealthier approach, that much I understand now. Our time to rise will come soon enough."
"Thank you." She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm gonna make this right. Rest easy, my shepherd, I will come back when I am able. We will continue to mend you."
"I look forward to it, Bella." He paused. "Bella...my sheep. I quite like the sound of that."
She smiled softly, tears creeping down her cheeks. "I like that too."