Lever on a slot machine - 1 answer | Crossword Clues

So this is a follow up from my last post and I've explained what I'm doing in that one. To recap, I'm writing the story of BATIM as if it were a novelisation. I'm not too much of a writer but I'm doing this more for myself rather than anything else. If you like it, feel free to let me know. And only constructive criticism please if you have any.
My last post covered chapter one, and that did well enough, so here is Chapter two.
Bendy and the Ink Machine story
Chapter Two: The Old Song
We are always told that after a fall, there will always be another rise. This tale has no rise. I had been dreaming. For how long? I don’t know. I dreamt I was at home sitting at the breakfast table. Linda was talking about all sorts of stuff. The state of her friends' dress sense. The price of butter today. Reminiscing about when we were younger. I was either reading the paper or doing the crossword, being sure that I placed a good response at the right time to keep her talking. I hear men say that they hate it when their wives talk too much, but I could never get enough of her voice. But then the mail man placed a letter in the mailbox, and she went out to get it, and I was alone.
I was alone. My head was thudding a dull but rhythmic beat. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, adjusting to the light, before seeing where I was. “Oh yeah. Evil cult worship space.” I sat up, looking at the coffins against the wall. I decided it was probably best not to touch them. I had no idea if there was anybody in there, but I could only take so much that day. Looking around, I found the axe I dropped. Strangely enough, it was leaning against one of the coffins. I had fully blacked out and dropped it after having held it in my right hand, and now it was leaning quite neatly on the coffin to my left. Just as I had done before, I brushed it off. I’m slightly worried thinking back. How could I have not understood the implications of how it had got there? This was just the first in a long list of clues I would later see. I was not alone. But I didn’t realise until it was too late.
Grabbing the axe, I looked at the way I had come. It was now blocked by a waterfall of ink, seeping into the boards beneath it. I then looked to the door ahead of me. I was not crazy about moving further forward after seeing the coffins. It was barred, but with one swing, the boards came loose. It led to a staircase, with the sign “Utility shaft 9” above the stairway. Going down, I saw more writing. Candles were lit on a small ledge on the wall, and a smaller Bendy cutout was placed next to the writing. It read “HE WILL SET US FREE”. Who’s He? Surely this couldn’t be referring to Bendy… Bendy!
My memory had been hazy until then, but I remembered my visions. That, thing, chasing me on the upper level, was Bendy. But how? Bendy’s not real. He’s a cartoon that I made years ago. How could he be real? And who was worshipping him? Looking at the ink writing, I realised that it was still wet. Whoever had written this had done so recently. So there was somebody else down here. Looking to the side, I saw there were offerings. A bowl, with what looked like ink was under the writing and next to that was a tin. I had no idea how long I had been down here, but I suddenly realised I hadn’t eaten in hours. I picked it up and looked. “Briar Label Bacon Soup.” Ugh. That honestly sounded disgusting, and the expiry date didn’t make it seem any better. A rumble in my stomach however, suddenly made it seem more appealing. It was easy to open and I glugged it down. I couldn’t figure out what the taste was, but I can say with certainty that it wasn’t bacon. Looking back into the tin, I was astonished to see that it was black, similar to ink. But it wasn’t ink. At least I think it wasn’t. At least I hope it wasn’t.
I looked around the space and found another audio log. I was hoping that this would be from Wally again, and tell me something about this place, but there were a lot more ink stains on this one, some were still wet. Somebody had done this recently as well. I clicked the button and was shocked at the voice coming from it.
Image of Sammy's first audio tape
“I said, can I get an amen?” I spun around quickly. That last one was most certainly from the tape, but it came from behind me. Absolutely no one was there, but it had sounded so close. That voice was of Sammy Lawrence, the music director of the studio. Sammy was hired by Joey and I rarely saw him. He was uptight and preferred to keep himself to himself. He always seemed so overworked. Poor Sammy. So tragic… So he made the tape and it was most certainly his voice I had heard. So he was in here somewhere. Passing more coffins, posters and offerings I eventually found a small corridor that was flooded with ink. Well, my shoes were already ruined, what harm could this much do that hadn’t already been done? Wading through I noticed movement in the darkness ahead of me. It looked like a human figure, walking across the hall that the door led too. He was holding a cutout, but I couldn’t make out anything about them. “Hello! Excuse me! Can you help me! Hello?” Nothing. I hurriedly moved across the hall and followed the direction he’d gone in and then I stopped. “Where the hell did he go?” There was only a wall. Black footprints led to the wall, but they just stopped as whoever it had been was gone. The cutout was leaning against the wall with a similar looking circle to the one I had passed out in behind it.
I decided I must have been losing my mind, heading instead the other way. I flicked a few power switches and opened the door. Turning I looked at a large statue of Bendy. How strange? It was perfectly made, Joey must have had it made, and knowing him and his advertising scheme, there were likely many more around this place. The next room was pitch black. So dark, and with very little light. Looking around I found another staircase heading downwards. I started down, but I saw that the stairwell was completely flooded at the bottom. “For god's sake, how much of this ink is there?” Little did I know, I hadn’t seen the half of it. On the wall was a lever with a power switch. I pulled it and the lights came on. A large sign stated that I was in the Music Department. That made a lot of sense as to why Sammy might be down here. Stepping towards the sign, I heard a slurping groan. Several ink puddles on the floor started moving. Large slimy blobs of ink rose up. They had long arms, no legs and formless faces. They lunged towards me, their arms outstretched. I dodged a couple of them and then swung my axe. It went through them in an instant, causing them to dissipate and seep into the floor. I continued hacking through them until they were all gone.
Breathing heavily, I just stood there. “What, in the actual hell, was happening here?” Bendy was alive somehow, Sammy was worshipping him, Joey seemed to have dug a chasm to put all this in and now, the ink itself was alive and trying to kill me. After collecting myself and getting ready to go ahead, I found a new log. It was Sammy again, only this one was a lot older, and he sounded more mentally stable in it.
Image of Sammy's second audio tape
“Are you kidding me?”
A pump in Sammy’s office? Well no wonder he went crazy working under these conditions. Looking to my left, I noticed that restoring power had opened a new passage. Down the corridor was Sammy’s office. This would be simple enough. All I had to do was get in and turn the release pump on to clear the… Oh. Great. A burst pipe was showing the doorway in ink. The high pressurised stream would make it impossible to get in. There was no way I could get to the door through that way. So I instead had to release the pressure on this pipe before I could go in the office and drain the ink from the stairwell. This just got more and more complicated as I went along.
Backtracking, I found another stairwell that led to the infirmary. What kind of jobs in an animation studio that required an on site infirmary, I would never know. I decided to move backwards some more. Next to the music department sign was a staircase that led to a projector room. There was another audio log next to it, but I already knew who had made it before I even turned it on. Norman Polk.
Image of Norman's audio tape
Ah, Norman. He was a nice enough fellow. Like Sammy, he preferred to keep himself to himself. He stayed out of trouble, but had a keen eye for noticing it, without being noticed himself. I had so many days where I was just drawing at my desk and all of a sudden he was right behind me. Almost gave me a heart attack several times. And man could he talk. The guy was much more of a gossip than most of the women at the studio, only the difference was he was often correct in his suspicions. Norman. What became of you? I never truly knew…
The tape confirmed my suspicions that something was terribly wrong with Sammy. And it seemed like this had been happening for a while. The room below was too dark, and I couldn’t see what was in there, so I decided to head to the front door of the recording studio. I twisted the handle, and found it was locked. I gave it a shove, but found that this wasn’t moving. I debated trying to cut it down, but looking at the axe, I don’t know what would have broken first. I didn’t want the axe to break. It was my only defence against those, “things.” It took me a while before I found another audio log, and was happy to hear Wally speaking again.
Image of Wally's audio tape
Now this one made me chuckle. Like I said, Wally was clumsy. It was just like him to have misplaced his keys. He once locked the mens bathroom for the night and somehow lost the keys. The next day was agony as none of us could go. Wally was searching all over the studio and eventually found it in his mop bucket. So, on the advice of the log, I searched the garbage cans, and sure enough, I found it under a pile of screwed up paper balls. I opened the recording studio doors and looked into the large room, the lights coming on as I entered. Several instruments lay on the stage, where the musicians would sit and play along to the cartoons that Norman would project onto the screen. All of the instruments were covered in dust. Whoever had left them there must have been in a hurry. These were expensive, and some had personally belonged to the musicians. Inside was another audio log. This was beginning to get ridiculous. Sure, it was nice to hear their voices, but there were so many of them. This was a different voice though.
Image of Susie's audio tape
Her name was Susie Capmbell. She had been a young voice actress who had worked at the studio. She had originally started off with come minor rolls, but I saw her potential, and so decided to do her a favour. I created a new character for her. I made Alice Angel. Alice was to be the polar opposite to Bendy. The beautiful and kind angel to Bendys cheeky little devil. I had even based her design off of Susie. Joey seemed sceptical at first, thinking that he’d lose part of his target demographic with her. I think it was mainly Joey's own views on women. Joey had… traditional ideas of women in the workplace. At least, that’s how he would put it. I personally saw him as being medieval in his ideas about women. But, after seeing her in the cartoons, he changed his attitude so much, believing her to be one of the best characters that came out of his studio. Yes. HIS. Anyway. Susie had made it out of excitement of the opportunity that she was getting. Good for her. I had left before Alice had gained so much prominence, so I never saw what had happened. It’s a real shame what happened to you, Susie. So tragic…
By that, was a large shutter door next to another solo recording booth. Looking around I found no controls. I started wondering. For how long, I don’t know. I was looking through doors, eating soup and keeping an eye out for the creatures. Once or twice I thought I heard footsteps, but it turned out to be nothing. I eventually found a closet with another audio log from Sammy.
Image of Sammy's third audio tape
How in the hell did Sammy accomplish this? To have a completely hidden room under people's noses? It was worth a shot I guess. I dashed back to the studio, making sure that I turned on the projector first. I did get a feeling that the cutouts were moving, but I dismissed it. I was so naive, thinking I was alone. I was never alone. I headed to the instruments and played the sequence while the cartoon rolled. Sure enough, the shutter door screeched open, the metal and wood scraping together as it slowly rose off of the ground and open.
The room was small. Smaller than Sammy’s office. It was more like storage space rather than a workstation. There was another one of those symbols on the floor, next to a desk. A toilet, of all things, was against the wall. Written on the wall, was a strange sort of poem, written in the large inky letters as before. “SING A HAPPY SONG. WHISTLE A MERRY TUNE. WAIT FOR HIS ARRIVAL. HE’S COMING VERY SOON.” Who was coming and why did I have a feeling it wasn’t a good thing? I made a mental note of the writing and looked at the valve on the wall. Sammy must have been sick of these things. No matter where he went, these valves were around him.
I turned the rusty valve. It rattled as the ink went through it. I guessed that this would drain the stairway to the Infirmary. There, I would find the stitch to release the ink pressure. I turned back and stopped. A Bendy cutout popped its head around the doorway and rapidly backed out again. Were these things alive? I held my axe firm and moved towards the doorway. The projector had stopped, making the room darker. I looked towards the booth, and thought that I saw a figure standing by it. I was about to call out, when the floor erupted in ink. More of the creatures appeared. Lots more than before. I was surrounded by them. I swung my axe at one, sinking the blackened blade into its slimy skull, splitting it instantly. The creature sunk into the floor and I turned just in time to dodge the lunge of another, swinging at its elongated neck. After dealing with the second, a third struck me in the back. Dull pain filled my body, spreading from my back. My vision became blackened, and I stumbled, getting out of the way before I could be hit again. There were four more in the room. I dodged and weaved, hacked and slashed and kept going until all were dead.
I assessed my injury and felt a slight bruise. These things seemed not to hit too hard, but in large groups they could have dealt with me easily. There was a wet hand print on my back where it had struck, and ink had seemed to have run upwards towards my face. That explains why my vision became blackened when they hit. I later gathered that their preferred method of attack was coating me in ink. Every time I took a hit, my vision would become darker. If I avoided another hit then my vision would steadily get better. God only knows what would happen if I was completely coated in the stuff. They seemed different from the other type of ink that flooded the place, almost being living beings that could move through it.
I shook off the ink and pain, looking up again. The figure was gone, but they had been watching me. Testing me perhaps? I don’t know. I decided to head to the Infirmary. As I had guessed, the area was clear. A single creature jumped me, but this time I was ready, striking as soon as it got up. It didn’t stand a chance. The whole room was covered in ink, but many items became clear. More cutouts and a bed mostly. There was no medical equipment. It appeared to have vanished. I wonder what happened to it. I found the pipe but was surprised to see that there was no valve. The wheel was gone. “Where did it go?” I looked back and saw another staircase leading down. It led to a huge tunnel, similar to a sewer. Ink flowed in a steady stream. On the wall was more writing. “DOWN HERE WE’RE ALL SINNERS”. I wasn’t sure I was a fan of all the religious messages. I’ve never really been a religious person, hence why I used devils and angels in my cartoons. But this was far too literal. Further down the tunnel I saw another creature, but this one was different. He seemed slightly bigger, and was wearing a bowler hat. I also noticed that he had the missing valve. I headed towards him, preparing for a fight, but this thing decided to run. It sunk into the ink and a small stream indicated it was heading further into the sewer. More writing on the walls. Who was doing that?
I eventually found a small work station with sheet music all over the floor and another audio log on the table.
Image of Jack's audio tape
Jack Fain. I had most definitely heard the name before, even seen it on the time stamps, but I didn’t know the guy. He had obviously worked with Sammy on many of the songs. The way he spoke… It gave me the impression of what he had been like. I’ve always had a talent for picturing someone from a voice, and vise versa. I would always be able to visualise a voice actor from how they spoke in a cartoon, even if I had never seen their face before. This helped me pick who I wanted to play the character after hearing the voice demos. That was one of my last jobs before leaving. Joey left that to me, but he supposedly left it for Sammy after I left. I imagined a small well dressed man when I heard Jack’s voice, who liked to avoid others. That behaviour seemed incredibly similar to that thing. But it couldn’t be. That would mean that Jack… Oh my God.
I reached the end of the tunnel and found a small chamber with a crate suspended on a chain. The creature had held itself up in there. I moved towards it, but it sunk into the ink again. I chased it around the room before getting frustrated. This thing just wouldn’t stay still. I then had an idea, seeing a handle attached to the mechanism that held the crate. The thing avoided me, moving under the crate, so I slammed on the handle and with a thud, the crate collapsed on the creature. The hat and valve fell aside. I grabbed the valve and looked at the hat. “Sorry I had to do that. Nice hat though.” Why I said that, I have no idea. I guess that I just felt sorry for the thing. It didn’t try to hurt me and didn’t know I needed the valve. Oh… Jack… How could I have done that to you…
I placed the valve in the pipe in the Infirmary and gave it a turn. The sound of ink spilling onto the office door had stopped. Brilliant. I headed up there and opened the door. There was a desk and a chair in the corner. Music sheets littered the floor, some having been named. “The Devil’s Swing,” “Gospel of Dismay,” “Art of darkness,” and many others. The desk itself was bare, except for a single sheet. There was a blueprint for Joey’s machine. I stared at it. I had no experience in engineering, but even I knew that something seemed impossible with this thing. On the wall was even more writing. “IT’S TIME TO BELIEVE” and next to that, was the control pump. I gave it a tug and the clanking and drainage sound told me that the staircase was clear. I headed down the corridor and turned the corner before reaching the staircase and, WHAM, something hit me. I stood for a second, before collapsing on my back. Looking up, I saw the dark figure again, holding a blunt object. That bastard had hit me. As I blacked out, I heard him say “Rest your head. It’s time for bed.” and then nothing.
“There we go now. Nice and tight. We wouldn’t want our sheep roaming away now, would we?” I hadn’t dreamed that time, but I really wished I had. I was restrained, tied to a support beam in a large room. Candles lit the place up, and I got a proper look at my advisory.
“No. we wouldn’t.”
He was a tall man. Taller than me and spindly as well. His skin was black with ink. He was fully coated in the stuff. It dripped off of him. It was hard to know if this was actually his skin or just a coating of the stuff. He wore stained white dungarees, and a mask covered his face. A wooden Bendy mask, with ink splotches all over it. It had a hole in the teeth where his mouth was seen, only it couldn’t be seen. It was like his head was just blank, but I couldn’t tell.
“I must admit I am honoured you came all the way down here to visit me. It almost makes what I’m about to do seem cruel.”
At that he raised my axe, polishing the blade slightly, pausing while looking at it. I was about to speak, but nothing came out. I was frozen with fear. For I knew who this man was, or once had been. It was the same voice I’d heard in the tapes, and the same figure I’d seen in the hallway and in the projectors booth.
It was Sammy.
“But the believers must honour the savoir. I must have him notice me.”
At this, he walked to another beam and propped the axe up against it. Savior? Did he mean Bendy?
“Wait,” He said, getting closer to me, his face inches from mine. “You look familiar to me… That face…”
I intended to talk then. To see if I could reason with him. There was obviously a part of his old self left. I just had to reach it. But before I could get anything else out, he cut me off.
“Not now. For our lord is calling to us, my little sheep. The time of sacrifice is at hand.”
He took a step back and began moving across the space in front of me, almost preaching.
“And then, I will finally be freed from this… prison. This inky… dark… abyss I call a body.”
A thud was heard in the distance.
“Shhhhh… Quiet! Listen!”
More thuds, coming closer.
“I can hear him. Crawling above. Crawling!”
Even more thuds. I began to feel afraid, and Sammy noticed this.
“Let us begin. The ritual must be completed! Soon he will hear me…”
He got in close again. I smelled his breath, reeking of that bacon soup stuff. There must have been nothing else to eat. How long had he been here?
“He will set us free.”
With that he left me, going off to a side door to my left. His footsteps echoed loudly in the chamber. A speaker screeched into life, and he began to chant.
“Sheep, sheep, sheep. It’s time for sleep
Rest your head. It’s time for bed
In the morning, you will wake
Or in the morning, you’ll be dead.”
A shutter door opposite me began to slowly rise. I began struggling. There was no way I was just gonna sit here while that demon entered this room. If I was to die, I was gonna go fighting.
“Hear me Bendy! Arise from the darkness! Arise and claim my offering! Free me! I beg you!”
The door was now open, but nothing was there.
“I summon you, Ink Demon! Show your face and take this tender sheep!”
With that there was a loud crash and a roar, but it was heard on the microphone, and not in the chamber
“No! My lord! Stay back! I am your prophet! I am your-” But he never finished his sentence.
A scream came over the speakers, as Bendy must have attacked Sammy, choosing to take him instead of me. With a final few strained movements, I was able to break the binds holding me. I dashed to the axe, the ground shaking, as Bendy must have been finishing Sammy off. Ink began to drip heavily, creatures forming from the puddles that they left. I cut through them and ran through the open door. Thinking hard, I remembered seeing a glimpse of a large object being lowered through a gap in the wall next to me. I didn’t think about it till later, but I realised it was the machine, and it was sinking through the studio. I moved through the hall, cutting through beams to clear the path. There was one more ahead. I raised it and brought it down hard. The wood snapped into splinters, but the axe broke in half, the head denting and detaching from the shaft. There were still more creatures behind me, so I dropped the broken axe and headed forward, seeing a flooded room. I was prepared to start wading until he appeared.
The ink writhed and whirled into a tall mass. A shape coalesced from the ink, forming into the hauntingly familiar shape of the creature that had chased me into this damn pit. Bendy stood before me. He roared, rearing his head back and creating a cacophony of screams. He turned his sightless eyes on me and started a running limp towards me and I ran. I didn’t think about where I was going, but I just kept going. Every fibre of my being screamed at me to get the hell away from him. I made many twists and turns, sneaking a peak back every now and then. Despite his limp Bendy was a god runner, and he was rapidly gaining on me. Ink seemed to spread from him, the walls and floor being covered in tendrils of ink, all flowing towards me. I saw a door ahead of me and sprinted towards it. I bolted through and slammed it shut behind me, leaning against it with all my weight. The door banged loudly as Bendy beat against it with his hands, his right hand shrivelled, making a quieter beat compared to his giant left hand, which thundered against the door. I looked around for anything that could help before noticing a bar and brackets that could be used to barricade the door. I slotted it into place and stepped backwards. There were a few more knocks until, with a growl, Bendy left the door. He had lost interest. OK. So he couldn’t just pass through solid objects all the time. That was comforting. That or he could get in at any time he liked but just chose not to. That was less comforting. I instead decided to focus on the fact that he wasn’t there and was no longer after me for the moment.
I looked around and found that I was in some sort of storeroom. There were cans lining a few shelves and a couple of pipes along the walls. At this point however it would have been more surprising to see a room without pipes. A door lay open and I headed towards it. There were a couple of barrels and one or two ink stains on the floor, but apart from that, it appeared to be the cleanest parts of the studio, almost like someone had been living there. A can rolled out from around a corner and across the floor. Someone was there. I had nowhere to run and nothing to defend myself, so I took the next logical step. I finally spoke up.
“Hello? Someone there?”
No answer. I tried again. More firmly this time.
“I know you’re in here. Come out and show yourself.”
Steady footsteps were heard and I prepared for the worst. The figure emerged and my jaw dropped. How was this possible? He was dead. I saw his body on the top floor. Even then, he was just a cartoon character. Everything else was a corrupted employee or a mindless beast, but something was different about him. He stepped into the light, and smiled at me, his big toothy grin making me feel better. It gave me hope, but at the same time, made me slightly uneasy as the sheer absurdity of him being here was almost too much.
“Boris?”
End of Chapter Two
So there you have it. This one took me a hell of a lot longer than the first one, because the chapter is longer. I will probably get around to chapter three soon and don't worry, I won't go through all of the pedantic tasks. I'll probably mention them but keep them brief. I'll leave a link to chapter one at the bottom of the post and add a link to chapter three once I've written it.
Chapter one: https://www.reddit.com/BendyAndTheInkMachine/comments/gjkyzd/bendy_and_the_ink_machine_story_write_up/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x
Chapter three:
Part 1 https://www.reddit.com/BendyAndTheInkMachine/comments/gneho7/bendy_and_the_ink_machine_story_write_up_chapte?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x
Part 2
https://www.reddit.com/BendyAndTheInkMachine/comments/gnejmbendy_and_the_ink_machine_story_write_up_chapte?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x