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Ink had the most interesting effect on people. Simply by touch the ink could consume someone if not careful, ingesting in would change your insides into something inky before it ever changes your skin. If one was covered in enough ink well the world could be endless to the amounts of possibilities someone can do with a little bit of imagination.
But one way stayed curious to the angel, a very...specific way of bringing human and ink together that she was sick of being left a mystery.
A sick sense of satisfaction washed over her once brute Borris’ hand found contact with Henry's midsection, flinging him into the wall with a loud thud. This song and dance had been going on for long enough and finally Henry didn't make an attempt to get to his feet. She was almost sure he had finally kicked the bucket which was a nice removal of just another distraction to her. ‘good riddance’ her mind exclaimed, coming down to where the wolf stood to take a better look at its work. But as she got a closer look she noticed his chest still rising and falling. He had simply been knocked out, how hard was it to kill this man?!
At first she growled, frustrated at how stubborn he was being at simply dying. Her mouth opened to order Borris to finish off the job until an idea hit her, a grin forming at the thought.
“Borris sweetie, bring him back with us would you? I want him alive, there is one last job I have set for him.”
There was no way of telling how long he had been laying here, nor why he was laying here. He had been fighting for his life against a dear friend- what used to be a dear friend, then he had not acted in time. There was a sickening crunch of something when he had hit the hard surface but anything after that was a blur.
Something had him strapped in place, leaving him to hiss in pain once he felt the restraints dig into his wrists. They were tight, too tight, but they held him up as he soon realized he wasn't quite laying horizontally. The thing he was restrained on was more of a vertical table, left in the middle of an uncomfortably empty room.
An attempt to call out was made but he quickly snapped his mouth closed as the door to the room swung open. It was her, of course it had to be her
“Alice,” he gasped under his breath as she approached him with smooth movements.
“I see my little errand boy is finally awake, wonderful,” she chirped in a sing song tone. “Bet you are flattered you get to spend along time with an angel-”
“What have you done to Borris?!”
Alice was almost caught off guard by the outburst, jumping a bit at the sudden aggression. In seconds she regained the familiar condescending composer.
“I made him better. You should know well not to lose your temper with me,” something sharp was slammed right by the side of his head while she hissed out those final few words. He immediately froze, eyes wide with masked fear. He had no intention of stepping down, continuing to glare at her with confidence he didn't have.
“You have no right to turn something so innocent into that monster.”
The angel chuckled, unlodging the sharp object from the wood of the board to be now holding it where Henry could see it. “But my dear Henry, you are so wrong. I can do whatever I like.”
Now that he had a clear look at it Henry realized it wasn't a knife, but something a bit smaller. His eyes lined the long, sharp tip and a quick realization was made. It was a syringe, one resembling the one he had used for her tiresome tasks but smaller. It all became only more clear as she inserted it into her arm. There was no signs of pain or discomfort, if anything she almost had an expression of amusement while drawing the black substance from her body. She had removed it once it was full, attention falling on Henry instead.
“Alice don't,” the man's voice was shaky, bravery giving way to fear once he felt her grip onto his own arm, “please please don't, you don't have to do this! Alice- Susie please!”
Henry gave a small gasp, the long needle piercing the skin of his elbow joint, straight into the vein. That had only hurt for a second but it was when the ink had started being injected when he felt it. Alice leaned over as she kept the liquid flowing slowly into his vein, her inky hair brushing the side of his face, “don't call me that.” It was nothing more then a low hiss, the words dripping with venom as Henry squirmed in pain. This whole scene was growing quickly enjoyable to her and the real fun hadn't even started.
He could feel it, the way it entered his body thick and cold. For a moment his whole arm felt like ice, ink blocking any way for the blood to keep freely flowing. It hurt, more then he could have ever guessed and it took everything in him not to whine in pain. Any moments of clarity his mind got was taken up by his terrified thoughts. The ink, it was in him. Was it going to kill him? It must cause some sort of horrible issues. What was she trying to do? Would it change him like the rest?
Finally the angel seemed finished with the syringe, bringing it abruptly out of his arm and taking a few steps back. “I hope you don't mind if I stay to watch the show, I really have been anticipating this moment,” her voice was something sickly sweet, uncomfortably happy sounding as if she was proud of what she had done. “Don't worry about making noise, your screams will only add to the entertainment.”
“I-” He only achieved one single word before he let out a pained gasp, mouth slamming shut as waves of pain hit him acutely. His arm had started tensing agonisingly to the point he couldn’t even think, all warmth draining slowly from the limb. Not once did the pain cease, his breathing becoming more and more uneven as it only grew worse. But finally he found the remnants of strength to look down at the source of all of this. His arm, what was happening? He could see the veins, black and swollen with the thick ink. The forearm wasn’t even skin anymore, it dripped with the black substance as it had replaced anything that could be called human. And it was moving, spreading. His breaths were rapid and shallow, watching with a horrified expression as it just kept consuming everything that he was.
With every moment it spread, the torture only grew more intense, forcing sharp whines from his throat. Once there was nothing left to see of his arm he could almost swear he felt the arm moving, shifting and forming in ways it shouldn’t, which caused only more agony. That’s when he heard that twisted laughter, he was sure this was nothing but entertaining to the angel which only added to the sick stir in his stomach.
“I h-” a violent shudder through his body forced him to choke on his words once again. His eyes darted to the ink once again, choking back a sob as he saw it had reached the top of his elbow and wasn’t stopping. Why wasn’t it stopping. Craning his neck as far away from the ink as he could while he desperately tried to get out of his restraints, only causing further pain on top of the mind numbing discomfort. “I hate you,” he finally hissed out, eyes filled with a scathing hatred for the angel.
Then came an odd moment of calm, mind slowing down once it came familiar with the unbearable suffering. Yet he couldn’t have guessed it could get worse until it did. This time he would have screamed if it wasn’t for the ink that instead came from his lounges. Gagging, he felt like he was suffocating, even when he was given time to catch a breath no oxygen wanted to enter his chest. He couldn't breath, why can't he breath?!
Agonizing screams could not be pushed back any longer once the cold crept to his face and almost had completely engulfed his chest. There was a nauseating grind and crack of his ribs, the ink that consumed the skin was tightening and restricting to unbearable degrees. It was slowly breaking the rib cage until his screams were swallowed up by how much ink he still had to cough up. It came in clumps, thick and unrecognizable.
Head hanging, he couldn't seem to breath anymore. It had...stopped. Somewhere amongst the pain he couldn't recall when he had ceased breathing, until his eyes landed on the dark mess somewhere deep in his body had rejected onto the floor. Within the sickening scene something seemed to beat and he would have thrown up that moment if it wasn't for the realization he had just throw up what was made of his organs.
His heart was nothing more then a glob of ink, now on the floor along with everything else. Oh god what did he even have left? Absolutely paralyzed in shock, he lay staring at it for what felt like hours. Suddenly the pain just didn't matter, dread drowned any thoughts and when he did connect with reality again ink had started streaming from his eyes. It was all just one big nightmarish mess of that he didn't want to be apart of anymore, he couldn't take, he just couldn't.
But soon he found himself feeling numb all over. No wamrth remained, he couldn't even see anymore. The ink, it was covering his eyes but the loss of sight had become nothing he cared about anymore, there was nothing to see. Maybe he was finally dying, certainly it would be better then being whatever he now was. No longer did he have to suffer the studio, it could all be over.
The fact he could still feel how the cold liquid ran over his told him otherwise. He couldn't just feel it on him anymore, suddenly he was so acutely aware of how it moved inside him. Something was tearing through parts of him, emerging and shaping into things he couldn't make out. Letting out a sob he realized the relief of death wasn't something that was coming soon. Without sight, every feeling in his body could be felt, that's when he realized he wasn't just growing parts he was also seemingly becoming smaller. Here and there the sensation of his body constricting and breaking his bones to recreate them to fit his new image caused him to cry out in pain, the agony too furious to ignore. It wasn't just that though as thankfully the restraints seemed almost more loose. The remaining parts of his mind he was able to hold onto were desperate to bring his body to escape and run but the truma of the still ongoing transformation kept him writhing in pain where he sat.
Then finally vision seemed to return to him. At least, it seemed to. Everything seemed different. He only got a moment to glance around before his new throbbing headache forced his eyes shut again. Colour, it didn't exist in the world anymore. Everything had grown a grey scale. What was happening to him? Why, why was this happening? He couldn't help ponder if any of his other senses had changed to the angels twisted experiment.
At least it seemed to majority of the torture was over, only the dull aching left in parts of his body remained. Alice, she seemed quiet, too quiet so he opened his eyes once again to make sure she was still there. He regretted that.
"HOW DARE YOU!" The piercing screech made Henry flinch, followed by the loud crash of something being destroyed. Alice had broken the nearby wall of glass, seething with fury at something Henry couldn't see. Was it him? By the way she glared at him he was quickly assuming it was. "NO! WHY YOU?! HOW DARE YOU BE PERFECT!" Now Henry was really confused.
"Wh-" He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt which was now two sizes too big.
"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Alice continued, now screeching in his face. At least he had been able to slip out of the restraints even if something more dangerous had him immobilized now.
"You're fucking crazy!" Henry hissed back, trying his best to wriggle out of her grip. The attempts proved futile though. She opened her mouth as if ready to scream again before letting out a deep, furiously grumble, dropping him hard onto the groud in frustration.
"That demon, he is messing with me, I KNOW YOU ARE! YOU CAN HEAR ME I KNOW IT!" Alice howled, stamping her feet while looking up at what seemed to be nothing. "Why do you hate me?! I'll kill him, I'LL KILL HIM YOU HEAR ME! HE WILL MAKE ME PERFECT AND I'LL DRAG YOU DOWN TO HELL WITH ME!" The angel whipped around to grab her play thing only to let out a furious gasp. He had ran, she had made the perfect bendy, and he had ran.
Sometimes you just had to take what is given to you, in this case it was his new found size. There was no need to sit and listen to her madness in the animators opinion, he would much prefer getting out alive. Joey, this was all Joey's fault. If this was the fate and suffering Joey had forced him to endure then he was willing to fight for this life.
Part of it you could call survival.
No, Joey deserved what was coming for him.