#miss lampbert

[insane-control-room]

The Sketch

Chapter Two, Segment One

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Full chapter on Ao3 here

The death threats were surprising, at least a little bit at first. But then they became more and more frequent, and he no longer cared.

And they were rather childish, too.

Cut from newspaper shreds and pasted sloppily onto a piece of salty scrap paper sloppily, it did not matter much to Johan.

He felt safe, even though much of his knowledge had been temporarily… relocated.

Johan laughed it off when he met with Henry at the park, though the other man seemed perturbed by the little paper.

“It’s a bad sign, Johan,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”

“Oh, please, who on earth would assume that Joey Drew lives in his g-gosh diddly darn studio?” Johan chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’m perfectly s-safe, sweetheart.”

“Joey, what if they do find out?” Henry pressured. “Who knows who this is, and you have no way of protecting yourself.”

“Yes I do,” Joey lied, avoiding meeting his eyes. “I-I have my sh-shotgun.”

“Which you told me that you returned to your brother when you visited Night Vale.”

“Oh… I told you that?”

“No, I guessed, actually.”

“You sneaky animator….”

“You gullible artist.”

Johan sighed, crumpling the death threat in a fist, tossing it into a trash bin a few meters away.

“Joey, I really don’t trust this stuff,” Henry stirred, restarting the conversation. Johan’s ears flicked back in minor annoyance, releasing a huff. “Seriously, as your doctor, I dictate this as bad for your health.”

“You’re not a doctor yet, Stein,” Joey retorted in a warning tone. “You still haven’t gotten that f-fancy schmancy degree of yours yet.”

“Oh, you be quiet,” Henry grumbled, running a hand through his curls. Joey chuckled at his insulted expression. “Don’t remind me. We still need to study for my next exam.”

“What’s it on again? Muscles?” Johan tilted his head, bright eyes glinting as he looked at the rather short future doctor. “Or is it on joints?”

“Muscles, I’m pretty sure,” Henry replied, stretching, his hand coming to rest on Joey’s shoulder. “Joints is the next exam.”

“Mhm.” Joey yawned, sharp white teeth glinting slightly in the afternoon sun’s shine. “What d-do you think, Henry? About… about D-Disney and Fleischer? Should I really-ly, truly be worried about a little bit of c-competition? I think it’s good for the industry.”

“What you think and what they think are entirely different things, Joey,” Henry informed him with a measure of tiredness. “We don’t know what they’d be willing to do. They threatened to kill you, Joey… like, damn, that’s a step too far, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “They also didn’t explicitly say they’d kill me, they just said that ‘I should stop making toons or else’. There’s a lot of things th-that can f-fall into ‘else’, you know.”

“I know,” Henry answered, leaning his head against Johan’s heart. “I’m just… just worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially not because of this, because of drawing and doing what you love….”

“Henry, it’s f-fine,” Joey tried to reassure him. “I’m fine. It’s okay. We can do this, together.”

“I sure hope so,” Henry murmured, shaking his head slowly, eyes closed. “I really do.”

They soon parted, Joey having to return to the studio and Henry to school, though they walked together for as much as they could, chatting quietly about the world and their worlds together alone, the cartoon universes that they flourished together. Joey giggled at one of Henry’s quips, and made an easy pun as a reply, so normal and casual for them both that they could ignore the fact that none of the time they had together was permanent. Johan was afraid. But also, excited. They were making the world anew, a fresh start, a second wind.

Johan’s hair fluttered in the air, the breeze ruffling his wisps. Henry was illuminated by the sun, a halo of mist around him, like an ethereal faery, and yet they stalked together, a shadow and a beam, so entwined it was impossible to tell who was which. Henry’s large and smooth palms reached for Joey’s long and calloused fingers, wrapping around them like a babe might for comfort, a gesture soon returned with a quick squeeze by Joey. As they neared the point where they would have to split, their shared grip grew tighter, ever more reluctant to part. They stood in silence at the street corner, each looking it the direction that the other would need to go, and simultaneously looking at the other. Bright sky blue eyes caught rose red ones, fastening them together even more.

“Well,” Joey cleared his throat, smiling weakly and waveringly. “Don’t be late to class, darling.”

“And you,” Henry patted Joey’s hand, cocooning it for a few moments, “Don’t get killed on the way back home, okay? It would be a mighty big shame and a huge loss for the world.”

“I won’t,” Johan promised with a nearly blinding grin, eyes crinkling slightly. “It’s not as easy as you might think to get rid of me, you know.”

“Yeah,” Henry’s smile faded slightly, and he reached up to touch Johan’s cheek. “I know. I love you, Joey. You know that, right?”

“Of-f course I know that, I-I breathe it, it gives me life, and makes me feel, o-oh, so weightless,” Johan reveried to him, shoulders falling, smile growing, and brows knitting with genteelness. “My love to you in return is s-so very, very boundless. I could s-spend all eternity f-fêting you.”

“Cut the prose and poetry, Jo,” Henry chuckled, clearly not meaning it in the slightest, standing on tiptoe and pulling Johan down to kiss his chin, missing his cheek. “I keep forgetting that you’re trying to grow out your beard… hm… you’re going to have to lean down more often.”

Joey giggled, blushing, touching where Henry kissed him with two fingers, and he bowed to kiss Henry’s brow.

“For luck, sweetheart,” he told him, turning around to return home to bury his face in a pillow and explode with joy. Every moment was a blessing.

“Bye, Joey,” Henry called. “Love.”

There was a small crowd conglomerated around the door of the studio, murmuring and whispering uncomfortably.

Johan sighed and ducked around a corner, pulling his mask out of his pocket, a pocket that clearly should not have been able to contain the Bendy face, additionally slipping on a pair of white gloves to complete the façade. He tapped the shoulder of the person closest to him of the crowd, and they turned around, and looked up, eyes widening, and then stepped aside for their boss with a nod. The coterie split, a red sea for a chosen personage.

Similar to the red sea, there was a desert before him at the end.

There was a knife stabbed into the door of Joey Drew Studios.

Not a bird chirped, not a dog barked, not a single one of Joey’s hundreds of bees bumbled, complete silence reigned over the expanse before the empty studio.

“Why is no one going inside?” Joey asked Ms. Lampbert, who stood beside him. She shifted. “Well? Is there a specific reason that we’re avoiding making the best damn cartoons around?”

A murmur swept through the mass, everyone looking up at the gentle giant that lead them with complete and total penchant. Joey’s mask smiled as he did, enchanted to copy his expressions. The uneasy plethora of people relaxed and smiled back. They could feel that they were in good hands, they all knew that Joey loved them all, and cared for each of them to the depths of his tremendous beating heart.

“We are a studio,” Joey spoke, head held high, slender fingers plucking the knife out of the door, pulling away the note stabbed into it and crumpling it, tossing it to the ground. “We are artists, creators, magicians of the screen!”

“And of the heart!” Jack Fain chimed in, grinning. “And who knows what black magic and tricks you’ve got up your sleeve, Mr. Drew.”

“Absolutely!” Johan beamed back, laughing for a few moments, plucking a yellow rose out of his pocket and tossing it to the bear of a man. Some of the junior animators giggled with delight as he bowed toward them. “We are prodgedies! We are the face of the new animation industry! Youthful, yet with our elders to guide us, a huge thank you to Mr. Polk, Mr. Cohen, Mx. Benton, and of course, my dear Uncle Bertie!”

Applause ripped through the motley crew, enthusiastic and energized.

“We’ve had a lovely late start today, a nice after weekend gift from all of us for our hard work,” Joey gestated, beginning to walk through the assembled workers. “Are we going to let this flimsy piece of metal stop us from working hard, working happy, and spreading smiles all around?”

“No!” was the resounding call back. Joey lifted the knife and stabbed it into an Alder tree.

“So let’s go in, and make some toons, eh?” Joey grinned at everyone, stalking through the group, opening the door for everyone. He nodded, and that was the end of that. A small hand grabbed his sleeve as the studio all filed in and punched in. Joey looked down to see Linda gripping his sleeve, looking up at him with big hazel eyes. He patted her head. “What are you up to, my darling little Linda?”

“Nothin’ much,” she replied, smiling at him sweetly. “Are you gonna be making the toy store yet, Uncle Joey?”

He reached under his mask to run his fingers over his beard, looking up to the ceiling as he slowly walked with the young girl. “I’m working on it, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get it up and running… I haven’t found the right worker for the zone. I’m still waiting for the correct candidates, you know.”

“Can I help?” Linda asked, skipping ahead to walk backwards in front of him. “I’m a good people person, right?”

“That you are,” Joey chuckled at her lively antics. “What’s your favorite up and coming toy idea?”

“I like the little robot Alice!” she excitedly replied, referring to the miniature model of the animatronic in Johan’s workstation. Joey blinked, storing that information away. “I think that it’s really cool to be able to talk to your toys and hear them reply!”

“Sounds good,” Joey nodded, the cogs of his mind churning a vast multitude of ideas and concepts to approach and tackle. He hummed as she and he walked together through the corridors, greeting the employees they passed, Linda receiving many hugs and slipped a lot of candies. Joey chuckled as Linda devoured another chocolate. “Henry’s gonna kill me for this.”

“So?” she asked, her mouth covered with the sugary cream. “I’m only five!”

“He’s going to accuse me of corrupting his prodigy,” Joey solemnly countered, but he grinned and winked, the mask still copying his expressions. “So… keep it hush hush.”

“Got it,” Linda smirked. “I’ll make sure he never learns of this.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening,” Joey remarked.

Linda’s smirk only turned to a wide toothy grin.

Eventually, Joey passed the duty of watching over Linda to Lacie and Bertrum, as the two of them never worked manually at the same time, as to enable them to be at their maximum efficiency.

And Joey went down, down, down, all the way down to his office.

He frowned at the mess on his desk.

Papers, papers, bills, documents, copyrights… there was so much to do.

He grabbed his computer.

when; (AtDesk), (papers); SORT: (PRIORITY1, PRIORITY-1)

To his dismay, another crudely written death threat was on the top of the now arranged stacks of paperwork. His shoulders slumped, and Gracehopper landed on the threat. Joey frowned. If even she was saying that it was urgent, it seemed to certainly be so.

He sighed and picked it up, smoothing it out and adjusting his glasses under his mask.

If you don’t go public with who you are, there will be a reconing. Disney and Fleischer

Johan burst out laughing.

Not even checking their spelling! How bloody absurd!

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he threw it away.

Gracehopper returned it to his desk.

He frowned at the moth.

“Come now, it’s just a paper,” Joey rolled his eyes, his mask quite comically mimicking the action. “There’s nothing they can do to me.”

Gracehopper fluttered at him angrily.

“Fine, fine, I’ll read it again,” he grumbled, feeling chastised. He scanned over it. Nothing changed. What was he supposed to be looking for? He turned over the paper. What was that in the corner? He squinted at it, trying to make out the faded writing. His expression vanished. He blinked, rereading the small lettering. “What…?”

Flynn Brothers Syndicated.

A lump grew in Joey’s throat.

No, Disney and Fleischer would not resort to that, right? They would not, would they…?

But it was written, clear as day, on the backside bottom corner, tucked away innocuously.

Johan trembled in his chair, staring at the lettering.

His hands shook, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

What was he going to do?

He quickly stood up, feeling a rush of dizziness, and he berated himself for not eating. His legs shot up a spike of pain, and he wobbled uneasily.

Still, he rushed out of his office, running down to Bertrum’s work area.

“Uncle Bertie,” he huffed, out of breath. “I… I… um….”

The Bendy Land workers stared at him and Bertrum. Joey blushed, hoping that it would not show up on his mask.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else to discuss this….” Joey mumbled, feeling eyes on him. Bertrum studied his posture, and he nodded, briskly leading Johan to his office. Joey shuttered the blinds when they got in. “It’s about the threats.”

“I thought you said that they were of no concern?” Bertrum interrogated, lifting an eyebrow. Johan wordlessly passed him the note, pointing at the concerning bit hiding in the corner. Bertrum’s brows rose, and he frowned. “Well, this is serious….”

“I’m… I’m f-frightened,” Johan told him, his natural stutter slipping into his voice. “Th-they’re really doing this, are, are they?”

“It appears so,” Bertrum scowled, tossing the paper on his desk. “But… I think the safest place is the studio. It’s unsuspecting.”

“Okay, o-okay, it’s fine,” Johan tried to assure Bertrum, but seemed to be assuring himself even more. “I’ll be fine… r-right?”

“I… I don’t know,” Bertrum confessed. “I don’t know the ‘future’ anymore, Johan. Not since you broke the loops.”

“Henry and I,” Joey corrected, raising a finger. Bertrum huffed a small laugh, leaning against the wall. “What, it’s t-true!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Bertrum nodded, smiling at him softly. Joey relaxed. “Still… I don’t want you attracting any extra attention. Pretend to leave to go ‘home’, and then go back late at night.”

“Sounds… sounds good,” Joey shakily replied. Bertrum clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at him waveringly.

Joey mustered one back.