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lulu2992 · 1 year

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From the Inquisitor to the Baptist: The Evolution of John Seed

Part 6: Sources, references, and further reading

(There are links under all the pictures in this post)

1: Concept art posted by Nick Arnett on Instagram

"Here is some more concept art I got to be in, that never made it." https://www.instagram.com/p/BvwpicenXHg/

And many thanks to @minilev for originally sharing the picture on Tumblr here!

2: “Last-Supper-like” images

The first picture was used to promote the game, for example during E3 2017 where it was on display outside the Los Angeles Convention Center (it briefly appears in this video).

I couldn’t find who exactly made it, but you can see/download it in very high definition (12,500 x 2,000 pixels) here:

The second is the “Key Art”, made by an entire team (and some of the people below most likely also worked on the previous one):

Creative Director: Michael Hammond Art Director: Brian Tippie Lead Artist: Wil Wells Assisting Artist: Camille Fache Assisting Artist: One Pixel Brush - Shaddy Safadi, Matteo Marjoram Character Art: Petur Arnorsson Brand Management: Dilip Priyanath, Ann Hamilton, Bailey McAndrews, Thomas Seris Project Management: Alicia Ruiz, Sam Nielsen Authenticity Coordinator: Travis Getz Reference photography: Ryan Flynn with Brick & Chrome Additional work by Blur Studio (they usually make the CGI trailers), Helix, and Studio Mtl.

See/download it in HD (7,000 x 4,054 pixels) here:

3: AmCo Studio

See development sketches for the “Last-Supper-like” images here.

4: Fire Without Smoke

Find development sketches and details about the creation of the “Last-Supper-like” images here.

5: The symbols on John’s fingers

This mystery was finally solved in February 2022 by @commonant (deactivated account; if you see this, thank you) here!

6: “Taolennoù Ar Mission” by François-Marie Balanant

See the scans here on the website of the Bibliothèques de l’Université Rennes 2 (Libraries of the University of Rennes 2, France).

7: Seven deadly sins (Wikipedia)

The page that most likely inspired the developers a lot.

8: Infantry tattoo

An example by Garrett Tankersley (@tat2garrett) on Instagram:

"Infantry tattoo" https://www.instagram.com/p/66MheiDlc8/

9: Old Far Cry 5 official website

Still visible thanks to the Wayback Machine here.

10: PlayAsia blog

They posted information about Far Cry 5 and its characters here. I still have no idea if the pictures are official or not...

11: Promotional picture for Far Cry Absolution

Posted on X (Twitter) by the Official Far Cry account here.

12: Inside Eden’s Gate

The short film is available for free on Ubisoft North America’s official YouTube channel here.

13: Rob Evors’ actual tattoo

Visible in this picture (the three letters on his left wrist):

14: John’s tattoos in Inside Eden’s Gate

Casey Lynn Stuckey’s Instagram post (3 pictures):

"Check out these sweet detail shots of the tattoos I hand painted on @foreversevors for Far Cry 5: Inside Eden’s Gate." https://www.instagram.com/p/Bf1q09eFJ1K/

And another Instagram post by Nina Shyne Alviar showing Casey Lynn and Sandra Stuckey painting tattoos on Rob Evors:

"My amazing MUFX/HMU team members Casey and Sandra, hand painting tats on Rob Sevors’ hands for his role as John Seed in Far Cry 5: Inside Edens Gate! Casey did it the first time all on her own, carefully matching the designs to the gameplay. Have you seen it yet? On Amazon Prime Video right now. And the game is out on 3/27." https://www.instagram.com/p/BgeuadJnNHj/

15: “Anything Can Happen, Everything Will” live-action TV spot

Watch it on Ubisoft North America’s official YouTube channel here.

16: Jon Oswald’s Instagram post about the Far Cry 5 TV spot

"New Far Cry commercial out today! Keep your eye out for me at the end. I'm the asshole in the GUCCI TRENCH COAT." https://www.instagram.com/p/BgRoavQhgcP/

17: Kenz Lawrén’s Instagram post about Inside Eden’s Gate and the TV spot (8 pictures)

"✨✨ I am so excited to announce the release of The FarCry5 short film: EDEN’S GATE on amazon prime!! ✨✨I had such an awesome time shooting in Montana and just wanted to take a moment to thank the production, the cast and the fans of Far Cry for all their love and support." https://www.instagram.com/p/BgpYTCojq7x/

18: Jon Oswald’s tattoos

In this picture (right wrist):

And this one (dog on his left forearm):

19: Storyboards for the TV spot

Drawn by Anthony Winn and shared on ArtStation.

20: The Book of Joseph

Rare promotional item given as a pre-order bonus for Far Cry 5. It’s never been available for sale (officially) but you can find several options to read it in this post.

21: “Far Cry 5: Why John Seed Is Your Charmingly Deadly Enemy”

Watch the video on IGN’s YouTube channel here.

22: John’s “You have been Marked” video

The source file (which doesn’t have sound) of the final in-game version was extracted by @hopecountyradio here.

As for the audio, you can go here to listen to John only, here for the background noise and voices, and here for the original, full version of the music.

23: “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” concept art

The artwork was based on a painting by Viktor Vasnetsov (1887). It’s official but I don’t know the name of the artist(s).

Find it in HD (5,000 x 2,672 pixels) here:

24: Official screenshot(s)

Created by Screenshot Artist Jayden Bell and posted on ArtStation.

There are more here, here, and here.

25: Poster

Official picture you can find here (3,276 x 3,276 pixels), for example. I don’t know the artist(s) who created it.

26: “John Seed - The Inquisitor | Character Spotlight”

Watch this trailer on Ubisoft’s official YouTube channel here.

27: John’s vest

Its secret was exposed by @inafieldofdaisies here. Again, great find!

28: John’s 3D model and textures

They were extracted by HeliosAl and are available for download on DeviantArt here and here.

29: John and Sloth

Just in case anyone is interested, I posted my opinion and analysis here back in September 2020.

30: Pictures in the Holmes Residence

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

31: Seed family portrait

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

32: Picture in Dutch’s bunker

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here, as well as the source files for the poster and billboard (even though the images included in my post were my screenshots).

33: Journal image (The Confession)

Found on the Far Cry Wiki, but made by Graphic Designer David Bouchard-Gagnon.

34: Early version of the “You have been Marked” TV broadcast

The video I posted was recorded in my game, but the source file was also uploaded by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

35: Pictures from the deleted in-game encyclopedia

Extracted and posted by @xbaebsae here.

36: Render

The picture I posted was my screenshot, but you can find the full, original render here (3,840 x 4,937 pixels):

37: Early icons

Extracted by @vls-gamingscrapbook here.

38: “Seeking Absolution - Interview with Urban Waite”

Watch the video on Ubisoft North America’s official YouTube channel here.

39: Holly in Far Cry 5

NPC line about Holly Pepper:

I remember a girl named Holly used to live here with her girlfriend Charlie. They were the first people I knew to join Eden's Gate.

You can hear it in the game.

40: Drew Holmes interview

It was deleted so the link doesn’t work, but you could read it here:

https://www.gamecrate.com/far-cry-5-lead-writer-villains-cults-and-crafting-story/18396

I posted a screenshot of it here in September 2018.

41: “Far Cry 5 - Inside the intro sequence”

Watch the video on Ubisoft UK’s official YouTube channel here.

An article about it was also published on the now-deleted UbiBlog here (retrieved thanks to the Wayback Machine again).

42: oasisstrings

Available either here (website by Steve Botter a.k.a. Steve64b) or on the Far Cry Wiki here and here (subtitles).

43: John’s deleted lines

Listen to them here on @voices-of-hope-county.

44: Hudson’s comment about John

Posted here by @oh-the-bliss.

45: Seed Ranch concept art

I sadly don’t know who the artist is, but you can find it here (1,398 x 845 pixels):

46: Tennis courts?

Listen to Sharky and Nick talk about John’s tennis courts (which don’t exist in the game) here on @voices-of-hope-county.

I tried to trigger Nick’s comment in the game but couldn’t, so it may have been cut, but Sharky’s line still exists.

47: Seed Ranch

Picture by Environment Artist Brian Harries found on ArtStation.

48: John’s “sex room”

I tried to find more information about this mysterious room here.

49: Survivor’s comment in New Dawn

Find it in oasisstrings here. I know it’s in the game because someone recorded it once, but I couldn’t find the post...

50: Cultists’ lines at Seed Ranch

I recorded two videos and posted them here and here. The comment about John being so busy he barely goes to the ranch is in the second one.

51: “Your Question”

John’s letter for a cultist named Terry. See the screenshot of the complete answer on the Far Cry Wiki:

52: John and Mary May’s secrets

This was originally discovered by @xbaebsae in this great post I recommend reading if you like early/deleted content!

53: Abandoned storylines

Listen to three outdated lines here on @voices-of-hope-county.

54: Kim’s deleted line about John

Listen to it here on @voices-of-hope-county.

55: Joseph’s eulogy for John

Listen to the audio here on @voices-of-hope-county.

56: Joseph’s message for John at Seed Ranch

Listen to it here on @voices-of-hope-county.

#far cry 5 #john seed #joseph seed #jacob seed #faith seed #far cry absolution #inside eden’s gate #rob evors #jon oswald #the book of joseph #joey hudson #sharky boshaw #nick rye #far cry new dawn #mary may fairgrave #kim rye #far cry 5 spoilers

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izayoichan · 1 year

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His mind for a second slipped to his wedding with Rylan, completely different from how this one would be which he was in many ways happy for. He was afraid another beach wedding would have brought back too many memories that could have led to slip-ups which he did not want at all.

Half an hour later, they had designed the invites, and given the addresses, they would be sent to, and they were standing in a distance looking at the now lit venue before they headed over to Flynn and Emil who had been taking care of a certain little sunlight on their day out.

As they got closer to the wedding date, they were slowly getting everything in order. Meadow was working on the flowers, while they had just finished their testing of the menu with Carl. Coming back from work, River watched Lucas who was a bedtime story to Liam. He knew it had started to wear a little on him, not so much the preparations, but more over the increased pressure from the press wanting in on the wedding.

He had done well though, via Thomas and the record company, they had an official statement that wedding pictures would be provided after the wedding and that no press would be allowed at the wedding. The fact that they were so eager though told both River and Lucas that they didn’t know where it was, which was of course just as they had wanted. Mostly the guesses were that they were leaving the country, and some bigger venues overseas, which of course they hoped would keep them looking in the wrong places.

River: I think… you will have to read that last part again tomorrow.

He kneeled next to his sunlight who smiled softly at him. He had seen the yawns as well, which soon led to the little one sleeping soundly with their favorite teddy in their arms.

Beginning - Previous - Next

#the ward legacy #writblr #simblr #simblrstories #ts4 story #ts4 #co created with mahvaladara #sims 4 storytelling #River Ward #Lucas Sunstar #Liam Ward #and with that #all is in motion #and well #you have seen these screenshots before #but you get them again #because their cute #and fit the story

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tangledbea · 8 months

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i was looking through the tangledwiki for specific information and i happened to stumble upon taylor swift???? for some reason she is credited in plus est en vous and has four songs in the wiki; you belong with me, our song, love story, and picture to burn. i don't remember her having anything to do with the show but do you have an explanation why it could potentially be there and why each song is tied to a different episode in the wiki? if those episodes were partially inspired by those songs, this would be my two special interests combining in the best way. also completely unrelated but i hope you and the others come back for a tangledtalk reunion one day! i miss it and you guys <3

She has nothing to do with the series, and I don't know why someone would put them in the wiki, but you need to understand that the Disney Wiki is not official and can be edited by anyone. It was probably put there by some fan who personally associates those episodes with those songs. I always take everything I read on the Disney Wiki with a grain of salt, especially if it's unconfirmed information. Before the series came out, Arianna and Frederic's names were listed as Primrose and Thomas, because that was what someone named them in a fic of theirs. Before the series concluded, someone claimed that Varian was in every single episode that hadn't aired yet because they wanted him to be there.

The only thing Taylor Swift officially has to do with Tangled was that she famously posed as Rapunzel for Annie Leibovitz's Disney Dream Portrait series. That's it.

That's very sweet of you to say! We're still in regular contact, and we might someday do a special episode or something, but we have no specific plans to ever record another episode. Originally we thought we would to review The Rise of Flynn Rider and What Once Was Mine: A Twisted Tale, but none of us liked the books enough to bother.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #Rapunzel #TTS #Tangled Talk with Team Awesome #Podcast #Answered

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ceaselesslyinlove · 2 years

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books read in 2023 - the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde (1/28) - sharp objects by gillian flynn (2/10) - lessons in chemistry by bonnie garmus (2/18) - tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by gabrielle zevin (3/6) - where rainbows end by cecelia ahern (3/14) - the stranger by albert camus (3/20) - the swans of fifth avenue by melanie benjamin (5/5) - hello beautiful by ann napolitano (6/3) - pageboy by elliot page (6/16) - far from the far madding crowd by thomas hardy (6/27) - unequal affections by lara s. ormiston (7/4) - neon gods by katee robert (7/6) - electric idol by katee robert (7/9) - wicked beauty by katee robert (7/10) - radiant sin by katee robert (7/16)

#books read in 2023

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trrickytickle · 2 years

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Phineas and Ferb tickle headcanons

you guys are feverish, a flushed color from crying out your tickly desires to my askbox or messages and I never echo back like a ghost town tends to. but @tickleu233 says "how about some tickle headcanons from phineas and ferb?" and i come screaming, with the souls of 400 stray banshees. LIKE LMAO IF UVE NEVER SCEEN PHINEAS AND FERB UM

but to all my requesters, (iykiyk) gitchee gitchee goo. srsly. i need to answer all dat grout in my askbox and im procrastinating bc i laughed at some random poast on the tickle tag for a straight min. ok im gonna try my absolute bestest

pictured, me when your mom

ALSO here's some research I compiled, study up

Phineas Flynn

okay what is the context for this

ok i feel like he wouldn't have problems or be stubborn or any sort as a lee. he's the bluntest yet most oblivious triangle lmao.

most frequent lees are ferb and candace, AND perry- they're siblings (family) alright and they got tons of bonding moments in the show, lol. esp candace when she gets REALLY high-strung, the boys gang up on her. it makes her W H E E Z E

has no problems with tickling. he WILL go a little too far as a ler tho. he seems like the type of mf to just be oblivious to the plight, and accidentally tease a shit ton. always gets wrecked back for being a little shit

it definetely inspired some of his ideas w/ ferb. maybe they got like 1212903109 tickle machine blueprints. like i can see them both planning to build one to annoy tf out of candace or their lil backyard gang. probbaly with the cartoon hands or some rotary feather blades HAOUUUGH cartoon tickle machines... i LOVE cartoony tickle machines u cant BELIEVE

SEE VIDEO ABOVE- they studied the reflexology of the foot lmao--- maybe that one blip in a montage lasted long real time

gets tickled by candace and ferb as well. prob w/ ferb its more brothery stuff like- rough housing and punch to the head while with candace its like affectionate? iykyk

Ferb Fletcher

BRI'ISH lmao

usually softspoken- laughs like thomas brodie sangster BC THATS HIS VOICE AND I LOVE TBS HES SO HES SO ok ill stfu

ler, his one line per episode can be reserved for a snarky teasing remark like "it's been one second." or something. definetly really blunt when it comes to tickling, keeps his same expression while his hands move dynamically, maybe.

embarrassed at being a lee specifically for vanessa. who wouldn't? goth gf omg

the most ler out of everyone here, he's literally so ler. Literally have not seen him laugh

buckles down laughing as a lee, usually wheezes a lot

Candace Flynn

me when I

HAUUUOOUGH that is a LEE. just.

she panics whenever "tickle" is said- probably second-ticklish to Phineas, worst spots are basically everywhere.

such a teasy ler, says stuff like "ooooh, you are SOOO getting it!" or even just straight up says "busted!". FEARED ler in the flynn-fletcher household, even by Perry. the fucking platypus

however that makes people want to get revenge. and revenge they get. super panicky lee, flinchy, leg-kicky, her laugh says it ALL. just- she has canonically been tickled TWICE, will bargain like HELL.

tickles her bf and siblings, verbal teases a shit ton

likes it when jeremy tickles her bc obviously, so it happens often, they switch. OH bless her, shes genuinely the funniest i thought she was annoying

does her little "hehehehe" AAAH

with her unlucky streak always ends up unintentional guinea pig for tickle related inventions.

Agent P

Heinz Doofenshmirtz

he's a platypus, but still. ticklish tummy and sides and stuff bc those are his anthro parts, pretends not to react in his disguise- but his "krkrkrkr" noise gets more high pitched and squeaky.

doof had to restart his monologue about some sort of bacckstory on why he made some random like banana-inator or something while he was being tickled lol

also under his tail and back.

once a tickling trap has managed to subdue him, but managed to get out. he's BAD fucking ASS guys i used to be obsessed with perry bc just- yes

laughter just sounds like the little perry sound ITS A CUTE SOUND

is also a canon ler. LIKE his little fingers omg

maybe his evil clone from the movies used tickles :> LIKE the dystopia setting that was so funny i loved it, i remember the hologram of major monogram showering

canon lee. take this knowledge as you will

either touch starved or absolutely tickle repulsed. perry canonically used it against him in combat

got tickled by norm before he programmed that out of him. some of the 'inators have turned on him. SPEAKING of that, great evil ler for sorta goofy hostage situations and interrogations. OWCA agent hostage situation, yk

invited perry over to work on his "evil laugh" or something would happen in the show and yk what else would happen.. maybe a tk fight

used to tickle vanessa a lot, she H A T E D it.

makes a bunch of stupid descisions that ends in him getting wrecked lol

Vanessa Doofenshmirtz

Reserved as fuck. refuses to crack, uses her stern voice through laughter, then breaks out into "KGH- HAHAHA-" sort of restrained laughter.

definetly had tickle-inators thrown at her as a halfhearted way to cheer this emo up by doofenshmirtz. i love doof hes funny lol

when she was friends w/ candace iirc, they probably had tk fights bc no matter how weirdly shaped they are, these are tickle headcanons, you can imagine them as regular human shaped lol

GOTH FRIENDS LIKE SHE HAS GLOOMY GOTH FRIENDS SHES A GOTH GIRL omg goth lee

this is what procrastination does to a mf but it was fun so it's ok I got to listen to the SONGSSSS THEY SLAP

#i had to look for the scenes on youtube :')#tickling #tickle community #t-word #tfb community #tickle fic #tickle #lee #tword #ler #tickle headcanons #tickling hcs #tickle hcs #tk hcs #tk headcanons #sfw tickling #sfw tickles #phineas and ferb tickle #cartoon tickling

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shadamyheadcanons · 2 years

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Hi there! I was wondering about the IDW comics-is there a way to read them online? I've been trying to find a way to read them but it seems like you have to buy them one by one. Thanks!

Tbh, I’ve been reading them online here, but I’ll be buying them soon. I’m just not sure which format I want yet. IDW has digital copies on their website - issue #1 is $1.99, and volume 1 (the first 12 issues) is $19.99. Places like Amazon, ebay, and Barnes & Noble have them, too. The art is incredible, and I would much prefer to buy physical copies so I could see it on an actual page, but the prices are pretty steep, especially for those fancy hardcover volumes, and they’re frequently out of stock, so I’ve been hemming and hawing about it.

They did release a FREE issue about Tangle and Whisper, so if you’ve ever been curious about those two, check it out here! I really like them.

I’d highly recommend IDW not just to Sonic fans, but to literally anyone with eyes. It’s great for a million reasons, but I’ll focus on the art here. The covers are beautiful and action-packed, right from cover A for issue 1...

(Artists: Tracy Yardley & Tyson Hesse)

...to the latest, beautiful renaissance-inspired cover B for issue 59:

(Artist: Natalie Haines)

She made an actual painting for this, and she’s damn proud of it. As she should be. Just look at it!

More pretty IDW art and accompanying ranting under the cut.

I adore the introductions they give to the characters. Here’s Amy being a cute badass in issue 2. She’s earned it!!!

(Artist: Adam Bryce Thomas)

Side note: I like how they introduce characters in the order they were created, so Tails was issue 1, and issue 2 featured Amy. Knuckles didn’t show up until issue 3! This series gives Amy her proper place right from the get-go. It’s a nice touch.

Blaze is always cool in IDW--well, figuratively speaking. Look at her awesome introduction in issue 4!

(Artist - Evan Stanley, colorist - Matt Herms)

IDW’s artists do a great job portraying dynamic motion and physical impacts. There’s another really cool use of her powers later on, but I don’t want to spoil it! 👀

It’s not just the characters. The backgrounds and scenery are great, too. This is Angel Island from issue 9. Love the foreshortening in the back:

(Artist - Tracy Yardley, colorist - Matt Herms)

And the art being as good as it is fuels how strong the characters are. When was the last time the games properly showcased Amy and Cream’s friendship? IDW does it right, and issue 22’s art reinforces that:

(Artist: Priscilla Tramontano)

The context makes it significantly more heartwarming, too, but it’s another spoiler.

Apart from Amy, the one character who I think benefits most from this is Silver. This is his cutest, dorkiest, most endearing iteration yet, and I am here for it! Top two images are from issue 8, and the gardening segments below them are from IDW’s 2019 annual. It has some cute Silver/Blaze moments, and it doesn’t have any real spoilers for the main series. You can read it independently. It’s $3.99 on IDW’s website.

(Issue 8 artist - Evan Stanley, colorist - Matt Herms) (Annual 2019 artists - Jonathan Gray, Jack Lawrence, Jennifer Hernandez, and Diana Skelly)

I can’t help but smile whenever I see him. He’s cute in other iterations, too, but I always picture IDW when I write Silver.

Oh, and one last thing: after Amy and Silver’s cute meeting in Sonic 06, I headcanoned that she has a tendency to mother him. It fits well into the Shadamy-Descendent-Silver theory (y’know, that concept that was “sarcastically” suggested by Ian Flynn, Mr. IDW himself?), and I incorporated it into Shellshock. It was only after I’d gotten into the habit of writing them that way that I read further in IDW and ran into instances like these (spoilers removed):

(Issue 14 artist - Tracy Yardley, colorist - Leonardo Ito) (Issue 25 artist - Adam Bryce Thomas, colorist - Matt Herms)

And she is always the one to do this. No one else mothers him like this. Headcanon confirmed! Three points for the descendant theory!

#not a headcanon #ask #fandom1515 #you asked one simple question and i did all of #this #i'm so sorry lol #my hand slipped

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beardedmrbean · 1 year

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Guilty verdicts were handed down Thursday in the corruption trial of suspended Los Angeles City Councilman Mark Ridley-Thomas.

A giant figure in Los Angles politics, Ridley-Thomas was convicted on single counts of bribery and conspiracy, along with one count of honest services mail fraud and four counts of honest services wire fraud. Jurors acquitted Ridley-Thomas on 12 other fraud counts.

The verdicts were reached on the fifth day of deliberations. Ridley-Thomas showed no reaction as the verdicts were read in the downtown Los Angeles courtroom.

Ridley-Thomas, 68, of South Los Angeles, faced federal counts of conspiracy and bribery, and multiple counts of honest services mail and wire fraud. Details about a sentencing date were not immediately available.

He did not testify in his own defense.

Prosecutors alleged that the longtime local politician, while serving as a county supervisor, "put his hand out" and accepted perks from USC to benefit his son, Sebastian. The defense put up an equally strong attack, suggesting to the jury that there was enough reasonable doubt to acquit.

“When elected leaders engage in acts of corruption, our community suffers immense damage. Ridley-Thomas engaged in a corrupt conspiracy with a university dean to steer taxpayer-funded contracts to the school in exchange for benefits for his son,” United States Attorney Martin Estrada said in a statement. “Today’s verdict sends a clear message to public officials that my office will vigorously investigate and prosecute those who abuse their power and thereby breach the public trust.”

Jury foreperson Kirsi Kilpelainen said outside court that the panel found "there was a scheme, there was dishonesty'' in Ridley-Thomas' actions involving a $100,000 transfer of funds that traveled from his campaign fund to USC, then to the United Ways of California, and finally to the politician's son's new nonprofit think tank.

The juror said the $100,000 transfer gave the panel "evidence for bribery,'' allowing for a finding of guilty on the charge of bribery involving programs receiving federal funds.

Federal prosecutors based their case on a long string of emails and letters to bolster allegations that then-County Supervisor Ridley-Thomas and the former dean of the USC School of Social Work, Marilyn Flynn, had a quid pro quo arrangement during 2017 and 2018 in which the then-dean arranged for Sebastian's admission to USC, a full-tuition scholarship and a paid professorship in exchange for his father's support for county proposals that would ostensibly shore up the school's shoddy financial picture and save Flynn's job.

“Public officials are elected to be a voice and a vote for the people they're paid to represent, not for their own personal gain,” said Donald Alway, the Assistant Director in Charge of the FBI's Los Angeles Field Office. “Allegations of public malfeasance must and will be addressed by the FBI before further corrupt actions erode confidence in our public institutions.”

Defense attorney Daralyn Durie countered that nothing Ridley- Thomas did was illegal, and a series of defense witnesses contended that the "paper trail" was not what it seemed.

Although the government argued that Ridley-Thomas accepted help for Sebastian in exchange for his support of USC contracts, including a Telehealth programs, that would've helped Flynn's school financially, Durie said the then-supervisor had already been in support of the proposals, so he could not have been bribed.

As for the contention that Ridley-Thomas participated in a secret scheme whereby Flynn funneled $100,000 ``seed money'' from the politician's campaign fund through the school to the Policy, Research & Practice Initiative, a nonprofit operated by his son who had recently stepped down from the California Assembly, Durie argued that nothing the politician did was illegal.

Ridley-Thomas' support of the contracts that prosecutors claim would've helped remedy the troubled financial situation at Flynn's school, had nothing to do with his son's ambitions at USC, the defense attorney told jurors in her closing argument.

Durie also alleged that one of the contracts amounted to less than $500,000 over five years -- an amount so low it would not have helped remedy the financial problems at Flynn's school.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Michael Morse told the panel, however, that Ridley-Thomas made the alleged exchange to benefit his son, who had resigned from the Assembly amid an internal sexual harassment probe that was about to go public at the peak of the #MeToo movement.

Defense witnesses maintained that Sebastian suffered from a series of significant health issues that caused him to resign and look for other work.

At the conclusion of her two-hour closing argument Thursday, Durie asked the jury to acquit the defendant, and ``return this man to his home and

his work and his community."

According to the indictment, Sebastian became a professor of social work and public policy at USC -- despite lacking a graduate degree -- thanks to his father's allegedly unlawful dealings. He was later terminated over questions about his original appointment and concerns by the university over the $100,000 donation. He also obtained a full-tuition scholarship and graduate school admission, court papers show.

Flynn, 84, of Los Feliz, pleaded guilty in September to one count of bribery, admitting that she agreed to disguise and funnel $100,000 from the then-supervisor to USC, then to United Ways of California, which ultimately passed the money on to Sebastian's nonprofit. The longtime dean of the USC School of Social Work, who departed in 2018, is scheduled to be sentenced June 26.

Jurors were not told that Flynn pleaded guilty in the case, and her plea agreement did not require her to testify at the Ridley-Thomas trial.

Ridley-Thomas previously served on the Los Angeles City Council from 1991-2002, then serving in the state Assembly and state Senate before he was elected to the powerful county Board of Supervisors in 2008, serving until 2020, when he returned to the City Council.

He has a doctorate in social ethics from USC and spent 10 years as executive director of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference of Greater Los Angeles, beginning in 1981.

He was suspended from the City Council following the October 2021 federal indictment that also named Flynn as co-defendant.

#nunyas news

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flynnyfan · 9 months

Text

Christmassy pics of Thomas Flynn celebrating with his family and friends, from his own IG stories this month, as well as his friends' IG stories recently.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays to everyone reading - I hope you have a wonderful time with loved ones🎄💝

#thomas flynn #thomas flynn pictures #actor pictures #flynnyfans #thomas flynn ig stories #ig stories #olivia cook #oliver wellington #freddy carter #laurie kynaston #christmas

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youllallriseintheink · 2 years

Note

Rank all the cast members of Joey Drew Studios from favorite to least favorite.

I wasn’t sure whether you meant the canon characters or my versions, so I did both! I’ll start with the strictly canon versions and then put the list for my own characters under a cut.

1. Joey Drew. Where to even begin? Everything in TIOL was just amazing. Everything about Joey’s character is so well-integrated- his whole mindset of perception and fantasy being more important than reality both explains how he justifies his actions and makes sense given his circumstances, and it’s really original, too. It makes SENSE that Joey would want to think that way given what he’s seen and how much bigger his imagination is than the world around him. It makes SENSE that he’d want to think he knows better than everyone else- he’s a gay man in a time when “everyone else” (not actually everyone, but it probably felt that way to some of the people living through it) strongly disapproved of that. And it makes SENSE that that mindset, that other people are just characters meant to fill a role, would lead him to do self-sabotaging, manipulative things and disregard the autonomy and wellbeing of others. TIOL truly painted a picture of a unique person who would totally shove his best friend into a time loop, and in my opinion it’s the best thing to ever come out of this franchise.

2. Sammy Lawrence. Gosh, I love Sammy. With all the different canons we get, it’s possible to weave together a story of a person who just wanted a sense of safety and stability in a world that had other ideas. He’s clearly deeply flawed and downright unpleasant at times even without ink, but I don’t think he’s an entirely bad person. After all, even as an ink creature he’s trying to make the best of things and guide his flock. I like how strange and rough around the edges he is, and I especially liked his role in TIOL.

3. Allison Pendle. Her whole portrayal is so mysterious. How much does she actually know about the ink machine? Why is she apparently okay with it?? Did she actually lose her memory as an ink creature? Why does she think that Henry is some kind of hero? She just seems a little ominous and I love it.

4. Henry Stein. I don’t have much to say about him, I just find him to be a really calming character. His portrayal in TIOL only added to that.

5. Susie Campbell. I love a good corruption arc, so seeing her go from excited to play any role to willing to do anything to be Alice again was nice. Her lines as Malice also point to her knowing a lot about the studio, which I find interesting.

6. Jack Fain. He’s peaceful and pleasant, and a great foil for Sammy. That is all he needs to be.

7. Norman Polk. I love this guy. I love his twisted sense of humour and his constant amusement. He seems like a fearless person who never quite takes anything seriously.

8. Wally Franks. He’s funny. I like how oblivious he appears to be. I also like how he apparently worked on early drafts of the ink machine and worked with Thomas Connor. I wonder how much he really knew.

9. Bertrum Piedmont. His portrayal in the books is hilarious, idk what to tell you. Just such a big personality, 10/10.

10. Thomas Connor. He’s cool. Very troubled. I’d like to know more about why on earth he kept working on the ink machine.

11. Grant Cohen. A normal guy completely losing it due to supernatural forces, what could be better than that? I also like the canon-based idea some have come up with that there’s something sinister about him.

12. Lacie Benton. I love me a tough female technician, but we get precious little characterization of her.

13. Shawn Flynn. We get very little canon characterization of Shawn. That being said, I like what fans do with him.

Alright, on to mine. I know some of this might seem like bragging, but really I’m just rambling about how much I enjoyed playing with my toys, okay? Their ranking doesn’t even equal which of them I think I did the best job with.

1. Norman Polk. Okay, I made some choices for Norman that are downright bizarre (namely giving him an upbringing in a cult and the ability to use stealth and read people so well it’s almost supernatural), and I’m sure a better writer would have done something better and far more canon-compliant with him. But gosh, did I enjoy writing him. I love him in pretty much any role, I love his kindness and fearlessness, I love the friendship I gave him with Grant and my headcanons for his traumatic past and how he healed from it and the family he built, I just. Love him. I also enjoyed making a more realistic version of the character for the Step Right Up AU.

2. Sammy Lawrence. Sammy probably deserves the #1 slot, honestly. He’s the character I wrote the most, the star of some of my favourites, one of the ones I find easiest to write, and I’ve pretty much mapped out his entire time at JDS in my writing. He has so much potential for angst, shipping, heroism, villainy, and interactions with various other characters. I especially like writing tender stuff with him and Jack, and drama between him and Joey, but there are very few characters he doesn’t have some kind of connection with. He’s really versatile to write.

3. Allison Pendle. Like with Norman, I made some questionable decisions with her, and I do worry that I might have made her too powerful or too nonchalant at times. That being said, she’s been very useful for me when it comes to showing a softer side to magic, and I greatly enjoy using her as a heroic character and a good influence on other characters, like Susie, Thomas, and Joey (in AUs). She’s someone I could look up to in a lot of ways, and writing her just makes me feel good.

4. Jack Fain. Okay, I don’t think I actually did that great a job on Jack to be honest, and I didn’t make him into a very versatile character, but I just love him for his sweetness alone. If there’s one character I could save, it would be him. He deserves a nice, long life.

5. Grant Cohen. I don’t know how obvious this is, but I often find Grant hard to write, and I changed mine quite a bit over the years. I don’t always feel like I do him justice. That being said, he’s one of the characters I thought of most, and I ended up making very detailed headcanons about his family, life, and friendships, so I’m extremely fond of him.

6. Susie Campbell. Gosh, I love Susie’s sweetness, enthusiasm, optimism and ambition. The poor girl just got in over her head at every turn and had so much going against her. I don’t know how to explain it, I just like her.

7. Joey Drew. Gosh, I love Joey’s canon character so much that I feel kind of bad for deviating from it! But Joey makes such a useful and compelling villain, and making him a little more eager to share his magic let me do fun things with him and other characters, like Sammy and Allison. I love his ability to fool himself and others, and his relentless positivity.

8. Thomas Connor. Thomas is kind of the anti-Allison: responsibility and forethought come easily to him, but positivity and kindness don’t. I love how they balance each other out. I do wish I’d found more uses for him than just Allison’s partner, though.

9. Shawn Flynn. Man, it’s too bad that I never found more use for Shawn, because I really like my version of him. He’s an extremely resilient and sociable person who isn’t afraid to cut against the grain and can find his people wherever he goes, and I would have liked to go deeper into his story as a transgender person and an immigrant, as well as his friendship with Lacie. He’s a respectable person with an eventful, unconventional life, and I wish I knew how to tell his story in a compelling way.

10. Lacie Benton. Very similarly to Shawn, I love and respect Lacie, but didn’t have a lot of chances to use her. I greatly enjoyed the opportunities I did get to write her, though.

11. Henry Stein. Man, Henry used to be one of my favourites, but I just kept developing the others and just never really continued to have ideas for him. Adding to that, I starting writing more stories that took place after he left, and well... yeah. He unfortunately kind of fell to the wayside.

12. Wally Franks. I love Wally’s personality, but I never had a ton of headcanons for him beyond fanon and never had a lot of ideas for him or gave him a ton of use.

13. Bertrum Piedmont. Up until about a year ago, I thought very little of Bertrum, and even now I don’t have a lot of headcanons, let alone story ideas for him. I like him in the books and he clearly has potential, just not in my hands, apparently.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #felixfazzi #joey drew crew #thanks for the ask

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

Text

HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 40

*Warning: Adult Content*

With nothing more to be said on the subject of Thomas Flynn, for the moment, at least, Ambrose Thorne and Dane Hunter take turns filling Freya Hunter in on the situation with the thefts.

She asks a few keen questions but for the most part she just listens.

Noah Hunter knows that, besides being the best tracker in their Pack, she has something like a photographic memory and will remember everything she's told with no need to take notes.

When at last they've caught her up, the talk turns to other, lighter fare.

Grace tells them about her plans for the farm and Freya entertains them with stories of some of the more unusual jobs she'd been hired for, which sound like a recap of a wild season of some crazy tv show.

When she tells them how she cleared out a nest of feral ghouls that had taken up residence in an abandoned subway tunnel, Noah ties to catch her in a lie or at the very least an exaggeration.

"Yeah, I've done that, too," Noah laughs.

"In a video game. 'Feral ghouls' aren't real."

She shoots him a look that says 'challenge accepted' and pulls out her phone.

She has pictures.

They certainly look real.

They also look kinda like normal people, except for the dead grey skin, black eyes and black, needle-like teeth.

"Ghouls feed on the dead," Freya explains matter-of-factly.

"The real ones, that is. Most are pretty well-behaved, really and keep to themselves. It's when they get together in larger numbers that things get messy."

"Oh wow," Grace breathes, having taken Freya's cell-phone to look for herself.

She scrolls to the next picture and the next and Freya happily details her thrilling encounters with a number of unusual beings.

Noah guesses it explains why she'd barely bat an eye when he announced he was dating a dragon and he feels a twinge of uncalled-for jealousy as he realizes that her life is about a thousand times more interesting than his.

"What's this guy?" Grace asks, holding the phone towards Freya.

Noah catches a glimpse of a handsome dark face and a cheeky grin.

"He looks hot. Is he an incubus or something?"

"Oh... no," Freya says, taking her phone back and quickly returning it to her pocket.

"That's just Darius."

Grace narrows her eyes with a slight smile.

"'Just Darius,' huh?"

Freya sips her drink with studied nonchalance.

"Yeah, we've been, uh, working together for a bit. I left the RV with him when I flew out here."

She turns the conversation to another topic and Grace lets it go but when Freya's not looking she casts Noah a wink and mouths just Darius, while trying to hide a grin.

Noah files the name away for future use.

~ ☾ ~

Eventually, their little party winds down.

Ambrose, Freya and Dane turn back to discussing the case, while Grace and Noah compare some of their favorite books.

Chloe leans against Grace, content to listen, while Julian has slowly inched closer to Dane.

He lies curled with his head in his lap, seemingly asleep, while Dane absently strokes his soft, dark chocolate-colored hair.

The pair of them might have hit a rough patch, Noah reflects but they're still on the same road.

It's late when Ambrose and Noah depart, Freya giving his brother a final rib-cracking squeeze and a playful pretend punch to the side of his face on their way out.

"Weasel," she says, shaking her head.

"I'm happy for you, though, you know that right?"

She hugs Ambrose next and Noah sees her whispering something in his ear that makes his eyebrows lift.

In the car, Noah asks him what she'd said.

"Let's just say that if I take your brother's threats to my person seriously, it is your sister whom I'd truly fear to cross."

Noah Hunter laughs.

"Me too."

The rest of the drive home passes in silence.

Noah stares out the window at the night-darkened world, watching trees and fields and then houses and the streets of the town slide by, like a dreamy film reel.

He’s sleepy and relaxed and strangely content and he realizes that as uncomfortable as it was to share his story, he feels better now that he has.

Despite having seen him only that day and despite Dane's prediction that Noah will see him again, he feels like he’s finally free of Thomas Flynn.

So he’s a little surprised to see, as Ambrose pulls into the garage and shuts off the engine but makes no move to get out of the car, that he doesn't seem to share his lightened mood.

In fact, Ambrose looks almost grim, staring straight ahead with his hands still on the wheel.

"Ambrose?" Noah asks after a moment.

"What's wrong?"

He takes a breath and then, still without looking at Noah, speaks in a quiet, low voice.

"You're not to see him again, Noah," he says.

"Do you understand me?"

Noah blinks a few times, taken aback.

"Who? T-Thomas?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

"I don't want to see him again," Noah replies, frowning.

"You know that."

"Then see that you don't."

Noah’s frown deepens.

Ambrose’s tone is almost harsh and he sounds as if he's laying down the law for a troublesome teen and wants to make it clear he means to be obeyed.

"Hey," Noah objects.

"You don't need to tell me that. I'm well aware of the danger, in case you missed that part."

"Are you?" Ambrose asks, finally turning to look at Noah, his eyes flicking between each of his.

"Did you not, this very day, meet him in secret, having told no one of your planned assignation ahead of time? Would you not have done the same again, if the wretch had promised you repentance and if your brother had not put his skills to use at last and discovered the true nature of the man?"

"What? No." Noah protests.

"And I did tell someone. The only reason that someone wasn't you is because I didn't get the chance to. I tried to tell you all this last night, remember? What's with you, anyway? Thomas or not, who I see or don't see isn't something for you to decide."

Quick as a striking snake, Ambrose grabs Noah by the back of the neck, pulling the young man towards him across the space between their seats.

"Listen here, little wolf," he hisses between his teeth.

"Do you have any fuckin' idea what you are to me?"

Alarmed by his sudden, unexpected aggression, Noah stares back at him, hardly daring to blink.

"I'm your... your M-Mate," Noah answers, with less certainty than he'd like.

Ambrose shakes his head.

"You know you're more than that. You're my heart, my weakness, my wealth, my joy and my greatest fear. And if dragons are prone to any particular vice, little wolf, it is not wrath. It is jealousy."

Noah tries to pull away from him but Ambrose doesn't let him go.

"Are you seriously saying you're jealous of Thomas? Because that's ridiculous."

Again, Ambrose shakes his head, pulling Noah closer.

"I'm jealous of every minute you're away from me. Every word you speak to someone else. Every glance that isn't cast my way. I'm jealous of your trust and your friendship. I'm jealous of your love and of every second you spend thinking of something that isn't me."

His voice has turned low and dangerous and his teeth show at the corner of his lips.

"You know that's crazy, right?" Noah whispers, still not sure how alarmed he ought to be.

"You make me crazy," he replies.

For a moment, Ambrose’s eyes continue to blaze dark fire.

Then he lets Noah go and sits back, blowing out his breath in a long sigh and resting his head against the back of his seat.

"Sorry," he says after a few tense seconds tick by and he sounds much more like his usual self.

"I've been holding that back all night, since the moment I learned where you'd been today and with whom and the sort of danger you might've been in. Your sister's lovely, by the way," he adds, glancing over at Noah again.

Noah is still watching Ambrose warily, unable to quite judge how serious he'd been just now.

Ambrose sees Noah’s look and gives him a wry, half smile.

"Hey. Come here."

Ambrose reaches for Noah again, gently this time and leans over, stopping with his lips just barely touching the young man’s.

"I'd very much like to kiss you, right now," he says softly.

"If you'll grant me that privilege."

Noah returns his smile.

"Consider it granted."

It starts gentle and sweet, a soft press of lips, a tentative taste of something more but Ambrose is volatile tonight and the smallest spark sets off a roaring flame.

Noah parts his lips, opening his mouth to Ambrose, who takes the invitation readily.

What started innocent gets hot, wet and dirty fast.

Ambrose slides his tongue against Noah’s tongue, in and out with unmistakable intent, exploring him with a passion that makes it clear he wants more than a taste and Noah gasps when Ambrose gently bites his bottom lip and pulls away, a string of saliva still connecting them.

"Gods, I want to fuck you," he whispers, eyes lifting to lock on Noah’s as he wipes the pad of his thumb across his mouth.

"I want you now."

"What, right here?" Noah laughs.

"Mmhm," he murmurs.

"I want to bend you over, sink right into that tight little ass and fuck you 'til the only word you know is my name. I want you shivering and breathless. I want you all undone and begging me to let you come. I want..."

"Ambrose, shut up," Noah says and pulls him back into a kiss.

After a minute or so, during which Noah tries to collect his widely scattered thoughts, he lets Ambrose go.

"Tell you what," Noah whispers, resting his hands on his chest and not quite meeting his eyes.

"Let's get to our room, clean up, calm down a bit and then... Well, then how 'bout you listen while I tell you what I want?"

Noah raises his eyes and sees his flash bright with a deep red flame.

Ambrose smiles, dangerous and slow and Noah shivers.

Before, he had been sleepy, ready to take a quick shower, slip into bed and call it a night.

Now, it seems the night is far from over.

~ ☾ ~

"Noah... God, please... let me..."

"Not yet. Not til I say so."

"Fuck."

Ambrose's voice is strained and breathless and Noah smiles down at him, even as he wonders at himself.

A few weeks ago, even the thought of doing something like this would have had him blushing.

Noah pulls off him and slide back down, straddling his hips and riding him slow, enjoying the sight of his sweet torment maybe a little too much.

He'd told Ambrose he couldn't touch him, couldn't move until he let him and he’s been taking his time.

Noah can tell Ambrose's reaching his limit though, dragon or not and has nearly had enough but the young man finds he rather likes this view of him.

Ambrose’s hair is spread across the coverlet, his arms above his head where he grasps the top of the bed, a flush lights his cheeks while coals smolder in his eyes and the muscles of his firm abdomen shiver and twitch as he fights to restrain himself.

"Noah..." he gasps and bites his lip and Noah knows he's right at the edge.

Noah slides off him almost all the way and then stop and hold still.

"Alright," Noah whispers.

“You can finish."

Ambrose grasps Noah hips and pulls him down while thrusting up at the same time.

Noah tries to move with him but Ambrose holds him in place, fucking him hard and fast until with a final thrust he buries himself deep, then works his hand up and down Noah’s stiff shaft until he comes, his body spasming around him as Ambrose fills his lover with a sudden spill of heat.

Noah pulls off him and collapses over his chest, breathing hard and listening to the rapid thud of Ambrose’s heartbeat echoing his.

After a moment, Ambrose rubs his hands slowly up and down Noah’s back, laughing softly under his breath.

"That'll teach me to talk dirty," he says.

"Seems there's a bit of Wild in you, after all, little wolf."

"Shut up, Ambrose," Noah says, for the second time that night, though this time he says it with a smile.

Then he sighs.

They're going to need a second shower as well.

~ ☾ ~

By the time they finally get to sleep, it's well past midnight and they both drop off quickly, Ambrose spooning Noah’s back.

Usually Noah might have found it a bit stifling, to be held so tightly but tonight he finds it comforting because he can tell Ambrose finds it so.

Ambrose presses a kiss to the back of Noah’s head, gives him a final squeeze and falls into unconsciousness with a happy purr in his throat, utterly content.

Sometimes Ambrose alarms Noah with the things he does and says, making him shy away from his intensity as he might from the heat of a blazing fire or a powerful light but at the end of the day, as they've arrived at it now, Noah trusts that Ambrose loves him and that his heart is safe in his lover’s hands.

With this thought circling his brain like a flock of restless doves, sleep gathers Noah in a soft sly embrace, so that he doesn't even know it has taken him until he wake again.

When he does, it's still dark and he’s not sure what's woken him until he turns over and realizes he’s alone.

The place beside him is empty and when he shift his eyes to those of a Wolf he sees that so is the bedroom.

Noah waits a bit, thinking Ambrose might've just gone to the toilet or to get a drink of water but when five minutes go by and he's yet to return, Noah rises and pads softly across the room.

They'd let Dougal in after their... activity...

‘I'd found the thought of being watched, even by a dog, absolutely unbearable.’

And now he sleeps, undisturbed on his dog-bed in the corner.

Checking the bathroom and finding it empty, Noah heads into the hallway, padding softly towards the stairs.

Nothing stirs and the house is entirely still.

When they'd come in, they'd found their guests mercifully already retired to their rooms and had seen no sign of anyone as they'd passed, hand-in-hand like horny teens eluding our parents, up the stairs to the refuge of their room.

Now Noah descended, feeling like a sneak in the night, not even daring to whisper Ambrose's name in the dark.

At the bottom landing, he pauses.

Everything is still, nothing out of place.

Except the front door, that is, which is wide open.

Feeling a bit like that character in the horror movie who does something stupid while the audience screams from the other side of the screen, Noah moves towards it, shifting his ears as he goes.

Stepping through, he takes in the scene on the other side.

The lawn is bathed in moonlight, looking slightly less parched for the recent rain but still sparse and bald beneath the light of the moon and stars.

In the center of the yard, a figure stands, clad in a long tartan robe, his loose hair spilling down his back in a cascade of auburn curls.

At his feet lies another, immobile and prone.

Noah approaches, reaching forth a tentative hand.

"Ambrose?"

He turns but in the flat blankness of his eyes Noah sees no recognition and his face is like a mask.

"Ambrose?" Noah repeats, shaking him.

He stares at Noah a moment and then looks down.

Noah does as well.

At their feet, Brutus Oakfield lies, eyes open and unseeing, a pool of blood leaking from a wound on the side of his head.

In his hand, Ambrose holds an iron fire-poke, its end bloodied and stuck with clumps of hair.

Noah backs away from him.

"Ambrose?" Noah asks for a third time.

Ambrose stares at him and tilts his head to the side.

"Ambrose?" he repeats, in a strange, unfamiliar voice and laughs.

"No, little wolf. It is Ainach to whom you speak and Ainach to whom you have bound yourself. Ambrose is merely the pawn to my king, while I am the player."

Noah retreats another pace and trips over Brutus' feet, falling to his back on the lawn.

Ambrose, or whoever he is, stares down at Noah a moment and then seems to shake himself, a shiver coursing the whole length of him.

When he looks down at Noah again, he does so with a look of confusion and surprise.

"Noah? What in the name of all the Gods..."

Ambrose takes a step towards Noah and stops as his feet bump against Brutus' side.

He looks down, then at what he holds in his hand, then back at Noah.

Ah... fuck." he says.

"Not again."

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saturdaynightmatinee · 2 months

Text

CALIFICACIÓN PERSONAL: 3.5 / 10

Título Original: Mutant Hunt

Año: 1987

Duración: 75 min

País: Estados Unidos

Dirección: Tim Kincaid

Guion: Tim Kincaid

Música: Don Great

Fotografía: Thomas Murphy

Reparto: Rick Gianasi, Mary Fahey, Ron Reynaldi, Taunie Vrenon, Bill Peterson, Mark Umile, Stormy Spill, Doug Devos, Warren Ulaner, Mark Legan, Asie Kid, LeeAnne Baker, Nancy Arons, Adriane Lee, Edward R. Mallia, Eliza Little, Owen Flynn, J. Buzz Von Ornsteiner, Tobi Lenny, Christina Sisinni, Manny Siverio, Chris McNamee, Michael 'Spike' Iozzino, Pedro Rossa, Leon Woods, Héctor Morales, Michael Cummings, José Manuel Cordero, Max Mollison, Ron Hill, Elijah Goodman, Ralph Crawford, William Higgs, Henry Oliver

Productora: Beyond Infinity. Distribuidora: Empire Pictures, Highlight Video, Lightning Video [USA], Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), Top Tape, Vestron Video, Wizard Entertainment, Wizard Video

Género: Action; Sci-Fi

TRAILER:

youtube

#Youtube

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insane-control-room · 6 years

Text

The Concept, Chapter Four

Disconnect

When something that bound one thing to another has been removed, when a chain is snapped, when feelings are no longer what they were.

Again, I find myself warning you - stop. This story is by no means happy.

More detailed warnings go as follow: murder; torture; psychological abuse; graphic violence; electrocution; suicidal ideation; description of corpses; death.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three

Joey Drew stretched and yawned, pushing back and smoothing down short blonde hair.

Getting out of bed, he pulled off silk pajamas, picking up the preset suit from where it rested, changing into it after he showered briskly. He grinned and admired himself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes flashing against smooth lily skin. Another day, another smile, another beam of joy, and that meant another sucker in his pocket. Such gullible fools, so scamable, all he needed to use to win them over was a little bit of charm, a little bit of flattery, and just a pinch of cash.

So playable, so useable, so… human.

He blinked and set off to work, people stepping aside in respect and some measure of fear as he strutted by on well kept, healthy legs.

Workers glaring at him behind his back in jealousy and begrudging admiration.

It made a grin slide onto his lips, his eyes lowering in his confidence.

This place was his.

He built it up.

His achievements.

He earned it.

His visions.

They were his.

His ink machine.

He created it.

He was the boss.

He always was.

No one else could have ever held his position.

No one.

He, as per usual, ignored the creeping sensation as he entered his office.

It was his office.

His.

No one else’s.

Ever.

It was his ink machine.

It had always been his.

He looked over his schedule for the day, sipping his always perfect coffee.

Everything about him was always prim and perfect.

Susie was on his list of meetings, as was Bertrum.

Henry Stein, too.

For some damning reason, he found himself attracted to the man.

He despised the feeling.

However, he knew Henry was playable, too. Useable, expendable.

They all were.

The ink machine told him, albeit reluctantly and through fighting and struggles.

It still gave him the information he needed after slaughtering a sacrifice, a desperate relay to save him, a terrified act to protect others when failure became apparent.

He adjusted his tie.

He earned this tie.

His tie that read “Grant Cohen” in neat letters on the label.

The accountant was so easy to eliminate.

Oh, he found out exactly what Joey would say.

It was the last thing he heard, and would be the only thing he ever would hear again, replaying over and over in his broken mind, the ink machine forced, hacking and gurgling and struggling, forced to accept the offering of the ruined man.

Just so simple, he carefully stretched his limbs on the table before the machine and calmly explained how he felt to the accountant, inquiring the ink machine again to tell him what he desired as Mr. Cohen begged and screamed for mercy in his own office, for him to just finish him off. The ink machine hissed and rumbled with Grant’s cries, almost as though it was trying to comfort the screaming accountant, pleading for his life with ink. Joey hushed him to sobs as he slowly broke his arms, in his arms, soothing him even as he snapped his limbs. The bruises covering the accountant coupled with his blotchy and tear stained face was… only one word could explain the sensation of viewing the damage, the pain… he was beautiful.

To Joey, nothing was more beautiful than forcing someone beyond their limits.

Pushing as hard as he could.

With or without their willingness, he would make sure they were pushed further than they could handle, past their sanity and capacity.

The power that he could do this was thrilling.

He could force another to their knees, to a breaking point.

Joey remembered how delicious the mathematician's tears were as he dragged his his nails deep in his flesh, carving, oh, such wonderful, flowing patterns in his skin, his lips on his cheek as he whispered what he thought of bankruptcy. Grant’s sobs and shudders as blood seeped from the wounds covering him filled Joey with delight and pleasure, and then when Grant was no longer novel to Joey, no longer gave him the same gratification, he was discarded into the ink machine, bending it to his will to accept him. Just like that.

Throwaway.

He was not the only employee to have gone missing in Joey Drew Studios.

Of course, Joey paid for search parties and consoled mourning family members, inviting them to the studio to see where their beloved dearly worked. Some joined them.

Joined them in mourning, that is.

Mourning and begging.

Some begged to go home.

They begged god.

Joey was god.

They all feared him, they all silently and hatefully worshiped and prayed to him.

The Polks refused his invitation.

It seemed that the family all had a brightness to them.

Ah, well. His family was spared, it seemed.

Aside from the projectionist, of course. He probably was killed when that projector exploded in his face, burning half the rotoscope room, boards falling and blocking him in a room that was doomed to go to blazes. Such bright embers, the fire in his eyes sealing him away in his own doom.

Oh, Norman.

Norman Polk had to be removed due to his snooping. It was a pity, almost. He caught him watching the death of Shawn. He caught him and yanked him to the ground with a practiced ease by the means of his cane. Joey offered him riches and splendor had he joined him and used his brightness for a more vibrant and luminescent purpose, bringing in a new era to the silver screen, living characters! Assisting with the sacrifices needed to be made to take these beings to light! Pulling dear Mr. Flynn back into the world of the living, but to be beloved by all! Imagine the greatness of belief!

Ah, Norman.

What a waste of such bright and brilliant potential.

Released when he refused, rebranded when he had no choice.

He could have lit the way to a brand new line of life, a whole new perspective and angle.

His head had such brilliance, his ears hearing conversations and statements to be unheard, his eyes perceiving all the things he should have ignored, his mouth spreading information that. Should. Have. Stayed. Silent.

His head was damaged beyond repair in the blast, a real pity.

His head with such clever and wise brightness.

It sat on Joey’s shelf.

Shawn, silenced just hours before the darling projectionist, could have been great. However, the Irishman’s faults out stood his benefits. Thus, his loud voice was muted for the sake of his talking. His sloppiness on the job. His lack of clean up. He was crooked. He never did his job right. Not at all. He constantly would mess up, his employees catching maroon stains on his shirt, his friends noticing the jitteriness and aggression that seemed to build up within him, his family noting his tendency to carry a blade on him at all times. He was loud and sloppy.

Joey stitched his mouth shut.

Nice and quiet.

Clean.

A surgical operation, in and out, the white thread being stained red as it dipped in and out, slowly muffling and quieting screams, wrists shackled to his desk by the means of elastics, a hand in his hair, holding him steady.

Then he used his own knife on him, slowly, slowly, slowly, agonizingly slowly pulling it from the Irishman’s pocket. Toyed with it on his hands, carving thim as jack-o’-lanterns.

He finished telling the weeping toymaker his reasons for letting him go.

Explained how much of a lost cause it would be to right him.

When all was said and done, he cleanly and quietly ended it.

Sank it into his neck with a drawling swipe, hot blood spurting onto his hands.

He wiped it off on Norman later.

Clean and silent.

Slow and methodical.

He got Wally to spread the word that the Irishman ran off and eloped with the black projectionist, a marriage that would have been completely abhorred by both families.

Maybe that was one of the reasons Polk’s family did not come to see if he was there.

Two birds with one stone.

So simple, so playable, just a game.

The ink machine howled and shrieked with the two new sacrifices, shuddering and protesting, blazing and stitching.

It took them in any case, threatened with more to come if they were unaccepted.

Well.

It did not have a choice in the matter.

It was just a machine.

An angel must be perfect, would it not be?

Susie, Alice, it did not matter to him. She would be born anew as Alice.

Perhaps a willing subject would yield better results.

Thomas replaced Shawn as Joey’s… helper tool.

The mechanic was all too eager to help, all too set and ready to get Susie out of the way. He wanted Allison all to himself.

All his.

Just as Joey’s success was all his.

Thomas hardly put up a fight in the first moments of Joey’s onslaught, he was so stunned by the blow to the back of his head from the wrench slipped from his own belt.

Susie shrieked and cried out when his body crumpled onto hers where she lay strapped to the operating table. A quick dose of anesthetic eased her back into blissful ignorance while Joey continued to dispose of Tommy, the mechanic shaking his head with sparks in his eyes, struggling against the taller. He wrapped an arm around Tom’s throat, dragging him to a pipe, holding him beneath the stream. The man writhed, reached up, and grasped Joey’s throat as he continuously kept him under the reluctantly flowing ink of the machine in their little scuffle for the wrench, forcing him to remove the bothersome blockade from his neck with Shawn’s knife.

Dark red joined the black ink in pouring down.

Thomas felt faint and light, and soon was no more.

He might have needed additional parts for the now lacking one, but Joey would leave that up to Thomas to obtain what he needed.

The ink machine shook with the mechanic within it’s recesses, pulsing and groaning.

He returned his attention to his angel.

For some inexplicable reason, he preferred her to the others within his company.

He very carefully released her, making sure she did not wake for an instant, if she would she would join the mechanic below the bubbling, bemoaning, black surface.

Avoiding more suspicion was key.

Eliminating two test subjects in one day would always arouse suspicion, like it already had with Flynn and Polk.

Joey would save her for later.

Joey beamed when she woke up in the corner chair of his office, dazed and confused.

He explained she had a dizzy spell and passed out.

The ink machine wept.

He knew that the devil before her was simply waiting for an opportune moment.

The right time to slaughter her.

When had Joey become enamoured by the angel? Was he? Was love even possible for someone without empathy?

Did the ink machine regret causing love, if so beautiful and wondrous a state could be called for such a black and horrific desire, within him?

It was his fault.

Could he regret it for the result?

Was the price he paid worth it?

If he knew she would just end up like the rest of them?

Was it his fault?

It had to be.

No one else could take the blame.

It was his fault….

Everything was.

He recalled it.

He knew when it had shifted from Henry to Susie.

He caused it.

The ink machine remembered how it happened.

Vividly.

Joey in Henry’s workspace.

Joey in Henry’s workspace, and it was all wrong.

“Get your hands away from him,” the machine hissed under his breath, his keyboard hovering uselessly aside his useless self. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

He hated this man so much.

He loved the other with all his being, whatever was left of it.

Joey Drew’s hand was on Henry’s shoulder.

The fake hands, formed for the sake of remembering a physical body, hands of the ink machine were clenched by his sides.

He felt this form waver and break, rebuilding itself moments later.

Joey’s hands pulled Henry from his seat.

The machine wanted to reach out to him, to protect him and spare him.

Henry looked like he wanted to back away, but a few words from Joey’s silver tongue calmed him down, and he led him to another room, saying something about a new short’s reel being complete.

The ink machine felt his (non existent) blood boil as he followed them, ink pumping through the building in a replacement to the angered flush that would have been there, hoping to protect Henry from this… thing that he created.

Himself.

But not, this was the man he could never be, more confident, more handsome, more intelligent, more cunning, more charismatic, better in every possible way.

The ink machine felt sick to his (unreal) stomach as Joey swiftly closed and locked the door to the room, and the ink machine’s false form tried to shield Henry as Joey stalked towards him, gasped in pain as Joey fazed through him, their nearly identical code screeching against the content of the other. Making the other stir, but it did not stop his intentuous approach to Henry.

His hands shoved Henry to the wall, one picking him up easily as his back hit the wood.

Johan, the ink machine, knew if he was still real, he would be crying. His (transparent, ghostly) hands hurt so badly, tingling and twitching, shaking almost, the joint of his right pinky swollen more than the rest of the aching appendages.

Joey’s hands held the panicking Henry, aloft and pressed to the wall, and Joey’s brown eyes studied him intensely, Henry’s terrified blue ones searching his for sympathy, and his mouth twitched into a smile and he whispered more sweet nothings, things Johan never dared voice, lies and twisted words, and pressed to his.

He grinned as Henry melted into the touch.

Johan glitched, feeling and seeing everything in the studio with the ink flowing through it in a millisecond, and snapped back into the form he remembered, hating every second, ready to lunge at himself.

Joey pressed further into Henry’s mouth.

Joey smiled as Henry tried to push him back, but he did not let him.

Henry tried to push him off again.

Johan snapped, ink roaring as he burst, pipes shattering.

He leapt at Joey with outstretched arms, finally, finally, physically hitting him, forcing him to stumble away from Henry with wide eyes, staring at Johan in shock and then full of rage and contempt.

“D͏O̡͏N͢͠'́͘͞T̷͞ T͠O̵̧ŲC̕H͏̷ ̵̶H̕͜I҉M̧̧̨,” Johan roared. The whole room warped and distorted, the codes trying to make sense of two of the same functions in one room, ink splattering on walls and the black, dark substance dripping through wood, sins seeping to embrace their creator. Joey tried to attack Johan in return, and fazed right through him, Johan’s claw like hands tight on his neck. Bright yellow ERROR triangles filled the entirety of the ink machine’s inky and distorted vision, and he clutched Joey’s neck, trying to kill himself. “I̛ ͢͝͝H̵A͏T͜É ̀YO͏Ư!͘͝ ̕I ̀H̛A͝T̶͠È̛̕ ̶Y̵OU͏̧!̛̕ D͟͜Í̵E ̸̡͝ÁL̕͘R̵E͡A̷̛͘D̵̴͡Y̵͠! ͡W̴̷H͜͡͝Y̸ C̸̨̡A̸͟N̴͏'̢̕T̵̛ ͘YO̷͜Ù ̸̴̧D͏͠ÍE̸̢͡!̶̀?͟ ̷WH҉̴Y̨̡ ̢C̡̧À͠͏N'͏T́͏̢ ̕͘I ͘DI̛E̕!̀?̡́”

Joey’s face, his pale, disgraceful, cocky, handsome, white, white, white face, was turning blue, and Johan grinned, finally ridding himself of that false face that haunted and taunted him.

“J-Johan?”

Both Joeys froze.

The ink machine scowled and tightened his fingers around the neck of his false self, hot angry mockeries of tears, black and angered, blurring his already obstructed vision.

“Johan, what’s happening?! Who are you!? Either of you!?”

Johan pushed against that pale neck even harder.

Henry’s eyes were wide and panicked, and he did not know what was happening. It frightened him. This was all very wrong, when had it gone wrong?

It started when Joey came into his animation area to wake him. Henry wished with all his might that he could go back to before that moment and change what he did.

He wished that this never happened.

He wished and wished.

Not all wishes come true, but Henry gasped as his head rose from his desk.

He looked at his watch.

His heart stopped, then the beat rose exponentially.

It was five minutes ago.

It was five minutes before he found himself watching… someone… something… nothing choking Joey?

What the hell happened?

When Joey came to check up on him, the look in his eyes was further than ever (he always looked like that though… did he?), and his voice was much more monotonous (but was that not his voice, his mannerisms?), and the incident… did not repeat itself.

‘What happened?’ Henry asked himself. You likely are asking the same thing.

How could one go back in time, to loop through a situation one has been through before, only for it to change and warp?

This is what, dear reader.

There is a menu.

It is available to Henry.

He does not recall it.

He does not remember using it.

Johan does not know how he used it.

Johan rose his shaky hands to his eyes’ level, and could not comprehend what happened. He almost had gotten rid of that the other him. So close to removing the murderer. Then Henry. Henry did something. The machine did not know what. However, he knew he knew that he had to further sever himself from that ‘Joey Drew’.

So he did, deleting himself over and over until the blasted, damned man could not feel for Henry like he did, Joey and Johan becoming more coded as his emotional side was removed over and over, deleted and erased again and again.

Joey had no attraction to Henry anymore, and thus became the emotional disconnect.

The resignation came as no surprise, no worry, just a bit of fury.

How dare he leave their partnership!?

When he calmed, he was more robust than before. More power. More class.

He went for Susie instead.

Still, not for the attraction.

He did not have that anymore, he never did.

For the power.

Having her under his thumb.

Johan did not know if he regretted deleting himself so many times, removing Henry from the danger but unwittingly putting Susie, sweet, kind, angelic Susie, into the flames instead.

He hoped that she would be saved by this calamity.

He saw how wrong he had been to hope.

He should have known.

Now, she was oblivious to the danger she was in.

They all were.

Everyone who remained.

Now that Shawn and Thomas were both killed, there was no one able to warn anyone of the danger, no one to call to the fear, to alert of the doom fast approaching.

Susie, Susie, darling angel, what a gal, what a demise.

Allison, the almond like, beautiful, graceful woman, followed, quite literally.

Susie had been called into Joey’s office (It was Johan’s. It was not his. It was not his. It was his.) to discuss her replacement with the junior voice actress, something she and Joey had already spoken about (between fake caresses and lies within kisses) the swap.

He tried to strangle her, his hand on her mouth as the other arm tightened around her throat. She struggled marvelously. She even nearly escaped his grip, causing four deep scratches in her cheek.

Then the other angel. Allison. She charged in and stabbed him in the back. Literally.

It burned, the knife she picked up from his own desk, coated with acetone for the sting, Shawn’s knife, tucked deep in between his ribs.

The ink machine roared beneath them in pride, the acetone in Joey’s flesh expanding sharply, the machine joining their fight.

There was a lot of pain and sounds.

Ink.

Swinging.

Fighting.

Acetone.

Anger.

Fear.

Hate.

Ink.

Flesh.

Metal.

Ink.

Pipes.

Blood.

Shrieking and banging.

He had to kill anything in his way.

The two girls were unnecessary, they could be imperfect as long as they still had control over their voices. The ink machine would be… informed of this.

So he stood, black cane tinged maroon, a bashed in skull from the jaw before him and a skewered back beside it, the lovers still reaching to each other.

He leaned back and wiped his brow, a groan rumbling up beneath him in pain. He stamped his foot.

“Oh, be quiet, you insolent heap of scrap metal!” he snapped, hauling Susie’s body over his shoulder. A weak roar protested. Joey grasped Allison’s corpse by her hair, all of it bunching together. The machine howled and hissed and sputtered as he approached it on the elevator. A lone wolf, missing its arm, looked up to greet him from beside the machine’s hall entrance. Joey tossed Allison’s cold form onto him, dark almond hair catching in his cold fur. “Hey, Tommy, can you lend a hand? Thanks.”

Thomas stared at his best friend, dead on his arm. He carefully leaned her on the wall. The wolf’s hand traced her features as Joey sliced deep into Susie, carressing and removing her still heart, putting it into a jar.

“Hey, Tom, didn’t you want to marry the girl?” Joey teased, tightening the lid. If the wolf’s face could scowl more, it did. “But you stopped pursuing her when you found out she was a lesbian. I can change that, Tommy.”

He stooped to shake the jarred heart in the former mechanic’s face.

“I can make her love you.”

He chuckled as the wolf looked away, in shame.

“My ink machine can bend everything to my will. Of course, there are always side effects, but she can be yours, Tom!” Joey grinned as the other squeezed his eyes shut, tight. Joey used his cane to force him to meet his eyes. “Forget Sammy and Wally, Tom. I’m giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, to marry your first love. You two grew up together, in the same classes, imagine spending the rest of your life with her. Think of her smile. Think of her pretty hair, her beautiful eyes, her angelic voice… you can have it, don’t you want it? All for you. I can give her to you.”

Thomas’ pie cut eyes searched his browns.

He looked to the woman, cut down before her prime, who lay beside him, bruised, bloodied, battered and dead.

He nodded.

“Very good, dear,” he purred, running a hand over his head. Thomas snarled for a moment before melting into the scratches gently behind his ear. Any contact felt so nice, despite how vicious the man before him was. Do not bite the hand that feeds you, Thomas barricaded the guilt. Joey continued to pet and scratch him, rough hands smooth against ink. The hand slipped under his head, pulling it to face him. “Chin up, Tommy! She’ll be yours, Mrs. Allison Connor. Isn't that such a sweet name?”

Thomas hesitated, then nodded, feeling his emotions in turmoil. A hand was on his shoulder, neither of Joey’s, nor the hallucination of his dead dearest friend’s. Just a hand, invisible. A light squeeze, and then it was gone, as though it was never there.

As though what was never there?

There never was anything there.

Joey beamed.

“Of course, Bertrum is the one with the ordinance,” he mused to himself, laughing at the world, plans in the gears of his mind. He carved away at Susie’s flesh, molding her into the perfect vessel. “We are a fine christian establishment, aren’t we? Only proper marriages in this building, even if the clergyman is forced to complete it, eh Tom?”

The wolf did not even bother to reply, knowing it would all be for naught.

“Is this beastiality?” Joey questioned the air and chuckled. The hair on Tom’s back stood on end. “An angel marrying a wolf? Or are you just a sheep in wolf’s clothing, Tommy?”

He picked up Susie’s limp form, carrying her to the entrance of the hall of the ink machine, turning back to face him.

“Make sure Allison’s all ready for the procedure when I get back, Tom.”

His footfalls were bouncy and light.

He entered the machine.

An ugly, bright, yellow green illuminated the area.

He hummed along with the machine’s lament.

And dropped her in the ink.

She was spat out at his feet, and he kicked her back in, pulling a remote from his pocket.

The machine howled in pain as an electric shock was sent into its mass, Susie’s body jolting on the surface that was on the verge of sending her back a second time.

It moaned, pushing her out, her being sent back a moment later, another shock, with more voltage, sparking through the almost black blue of the ink. A shrieking roar, splashing and shivering. Susie gasped, falling limp again.

The ink soothingly wrapped around her, tenderly stroking her wounds and cuts as it brought her within itself, crying out pitifully.

Joey gave a vicious grin, tossing in a bottle of acetone for good measure, the inky abyss rearing in anguish.

He turned around to the operation room.

Tom was cowering in a corner, Allison’s body half strapped in, and he was staring at it in horror, repulsed and fearful.

“Aw, is the big bad wolf scared of a Tommy gun?” he taunted, grasping the weapon and slipping it behind his back, tucking it into his suit. He paused over the Angel, stooping and looking over Allison’s body. Mostly in place, but that nasty torso injury would need some repairs. He turned her to her chest, prying off the bloodstained shirt, slitting open the skin, tweezing it away from the bloody mess, working beneath the surface with the muscle and nerves, replacing some with metal and wire. Thomas gave a sad howl as Joey unstrapped and lifted her off the table, her rigor mortis just starting to ease. Joey jerked his head toward him. “What’s your problem?”

Tom did not reply, just following them with his melancholy eyes.

Followed them into the ink machine’s room, then into the machine itself where he could no longer tread.

Allison’s body hit the ink with nary a splash, a hand seemingly rising to ease her back to the surface. Joey rolled his eyes and administered another shock. Again. A third time.

The swirling black ink glowed and jolted and waved and crashed and spasmed with the agony of the electricity, screams resounding, the pipes rushing as though it was the ink machine’s lifeline, rattling and screeching tinnily.

It accepted Allison’s body with sobs and wracking, wavering motions.

COWARD, it painted on the walls of the machine. LIAR MURDERER THIEF CRUEL HORRIBLE FALSE LIAR LIAR COWARD CHEATER COWARD LIAR FAKE LIAR LIAR LIAR

FACE ME, it demanded on the wooden door. FACE YOUR SINS

Joey pushed past it, ignoring it.

THEY ARE WRITTEN ON YOUR BACK, it warned along the hall. YOU CAN NOT RUN FROM THEM FOREVER JOEY DREW

He narrowed his eyes and pressed on, the arms of failed experiments flailing for him, trying to grasp him and return the actions of what he had done to them.

YOU WILL FACE ME, the ink coated the last door. YOU CAN NOT HIDE FROM YOURSELF

He slammed through it, anger in his eyes and hatred in his chest. He turned back to face the machine.

“Make sure their voices are intact,” Joey snarled. “Or else Jack’s gonna join them!”

The door slammed shut, enveloping the ink machine in black and toxic green.

Johan shivered, looking around, unable to interact with anything further.

His shoulders slumped as he passed his hands over the ones and zeros chaining him.

He had work to do, so as to protect the lyricist. He rewrote the fringe of whatever of his coding remained to paste a real smile on his face, and went to go console the two weeping angels and return them as they needed.

And soon, they were reborn.

As Joey demanded.

With Allison reset.

Forgetting everything of who she was.

It broke Susie.

Joey praised the ink machine, as his creation, as his design, as his servant.

He assured Thomas, the enraged mechanic, of the architect joining them.

Joining Allison and Thomas.

In the state of being dead, but still there.

“What are ya doin’ here, Mr. Drew?” Lacie’s voice, sour and bitter asked. He turned to face hir. He frowned for a split second, before his grin slowly spread over his face. “You’re the one that said that you aren’t coming into here unless you need something.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, my dear,” he hummed. He waved her off. She looked at him with suspicion, then turned away. A bang, multiple bangs, a round of gunshots, a garbled, groaning shriek, and then a thud. “Ah, so she can be killed. Interesting.”

Bertrum found himself facing Mr. Drew when he finished off his work for the day.

“I am in need of your assistance, Mr. Piedmont,” the dastardly man intoned with a drawl, a smug grin on his lips. Bertrum scowled at him, gripping his pencil so tight it snapped in his fingers, the wood scratching his palms. “I don’t really need anything from you. But we wouldn’t want a little secret to slip, hm? I’m sure that it would be rather detrimental to your dignity, wouldn’t it, Berta-”

“Okay, okay, what do you want?” He cut him off, the scowl deepening, folding his arms on his chest, a rouge tinge on his olive skin. Joey grinned, leaning against the wall. “What. Do. You. Want.”

“Mr. Connor requested you be the one to marry he and Ms. Pendle,” he droned, yawning. Bertrum stared at him, at first with confusion, then abhorrence, and finally rage. “They’ve seen past her little deviance, with my help, you know, and would like you to be the one to join them together in binding.”

“You’re sick!” Bertrum barked, backing away. A twisted, lazy, confident grin inched onto his lips. Anger seeping quickly into the Greek Englishman’s marrow, spinning his features into a grimacing snarl. “As for my dignity, Mr. Drew, I think you and I need to talk about your little… joke, if you will, last week.”

“Aw, really? I think it’s cute! Aw, it’s Bertie! Adorable!” Joey mocked, the back of his hands under his chin, batting his eyelashes. Bertrum’s snarl worsened. Joey’s grin dropped and he rolled his eyes. “Lacie would make a rather fine Alice, don’t you think?”

“You wouldn’t dare, Joey!”

“I already did, my dear, Bertie, with just a twitch of my fingers,” he provoked, eyes half lidded and holier than thou, prodding at him with just his voice. Bertrum stared at him, with a worsening sinking sensation. Within him, however, was so… much… anger. He stared at Joey, heart pounding in his chest, beating against his weak ribs, hands shaking in rage, and he acted before he thought, his hands meeting with the side of Joey’s head with a dull thunk. Joey stumbled back, staring in shock at the man, his cane suddenly whistling through the air. Bertrum’s arm snapped up to stop the blow, a crack resounding. They both looked to where the cane and bone met, both wondering in complete silence with bated breath to know which had broken. After a moment, there was a creak, followed by the wood splintering and breaking off. Joey met Bertrum’s eye, his eye twitching slightly. “You owe me a new cane.”

The end of it butted into his stomach, Bertrum gasping but then grasping the splintered staff, yanking it out of Joey’s hand, tossing it back over his shoulder. The man rose his hands in surrender, stepping back slowly as Bertrum advanced to him. Joey surveyed the area, looking for what he could use for his advantage, already processing and scheming the proper path to take. He began steering them in the direction he wanted, his slow steps leading Bertrum to the end of his line. The back of his legs hit the item he had aimed for, and he pretended to stumble against it. Bertrum’s hand slammed next to his head on the wall, blocking off an escape. Little did the poor architect know that Joey did not want nor need one. He looked at him with wide, mockingly fearful eyes, his lower lip trembling pathetically and brows arching grievously.

Bertrum faltered, frowning with mercy in his eyes.

A fatal mistake.

His head was grasped suddenly, his head shoved within a Bendy barrel full of ink and oil, leftovers from a mishap that had happened nearly a week before.

They struggled, Bertrum’s eyes wide beneath the black surface, his hands gripping Joey’s arms, scrambling against him. Joey kept him down. A minute passed of their fight, then two, then three…

Four…

Five…

Six.

Six minutes had passed, and the man was still fighting to surface.

He punched his chest.

He should be dead!

He punched his neck.

He should have drowned already!

Joey snarled, punching him in the face, splashing through the ink.

Then a feral grin spread over his lips.

The ink. Of course.

The damned machine was keeping him alive, feeding him air.

He will show it not to defy him. Not to play with him. Not to mess around with his plans.

He frantically looked about for something to teach the machine a lesson with.

An open power cord not two feet away caught his attention, sparks flying out of the end, little shooting stars.

It would do, it would do just fine.

He managed to reach it with a foot, dragging it to himself, swooping down to grasp it.

He held it above the architect’s struggling form, poised, a flaming, jolting dagger.

Make a wish, Bertrum.

I owe you.

Joey plunged it in the ink, swiftly removing his hands moments before the electricity entered it. Bertrum’s eyes seemed to bug out beneath the surface of the charged liquid, mouth opening as ink dripped into it, oil catching fire, suit aflame, his body spasming and quivering.

The acrid smell of muscle and hair burning permeated the air, filling his lungs with joy.

It was almost sweet, almost savory, the fumes of the ink blending ever so nicely, gracefully, delightfully, with that of humanity.

The cusp of life meeting the verge of death.

Beautiful.

Unbelievable.

With enough belief, anything is possible.

The ink machine sobbed and howled and screamed as it’s blood burned with the ride maker’s, almost crying out a name, had it had the mouth to do so.

Oh, the architect and his wife merely left the company.

Too many sling gunned decisions, too many flames between workers.

Yes, Sammy still pestered him for the whereabouts of Thomas and the two angels, who somehow managed to always have their lines in, yes, he asked about Norman, yes, he demanded, screaming and crying, to know about Jack.

Losing Jack was a shame.

A real bummer.

The man could have lived on had he been a little wiser. Joey knew he could have done better, if he would not have gone down the fenced off area in the sewers. It was fenced off with a keep out sign for a reason, Mr. Fain, despite the moans and sounds you may have heard emitting from it.

Seeing the failed experiments, the lost causes, the ones swollen with pain, it shook him, made him feel as though he was in a waking nightmare, the glowing eyes, the shock making him drop his flashlight.

A gloved hand pushed him forwards, making him stumble down into the filth. A shadow came above his head, and the queerest sensation of deja vu filled his thoughts as he looked up, moments before the steel crate dropped on him, landing with a rush of chains, the squelch and crunch merged like a piano melody.

The gloved hand picked up his dear hat, lovingly dusting it off.

He wore it. It really fitted him, completing his suited outfit quite well.

Sammy’s stare, his glare, the fire in his eyes, Joey could feel it. It felt wonderful on his back. It was glorious on his neck. The sensation of his rage and gaze, it was extraordinarily unbelievable on the top of his head.

“Mr. Drew,” a thick, low, constricted voice seeped from the man staring at him. “I cannot stand by this any longer. You’re a coward, and a liar! Where is your honor! You stab a man in the back, you kill women and the old, you lock a man in a burning room, what have you done now, what have you done!? Answer for your sins, you will not chain me any longer! Answer me! What have you done to Jack!?”

“Jack? Jack Fain? The silly old lyricist that spent his days in the sewer?” Joey inquired. Sammy held his composure, his hands clenching. The canadian took a step to the business man, eyes narrow and blazing with the fire of a thousand suns of tears. “Samuel, he just needed some time away, the weight of the job was rather, well, I suppose that he found it crushing him.”

Sammy marched up to him, seething.

“And Thomas?” he demanded in a dark, deep, distraught tone, grabbing the dreamer by his lapel. Joey grinned. “What did you do to him!?”

“He’s rather sheepish, lately, and a nasty wolfish cough caught up to him. I thought that you, his boyfriend of all people, would know that, wouldn’t you?” Joey rose an eyebrow, straightening his jacket with a huff and a scowl. Sammy’s mind spun to process it. “Oooor… do you think something else is happening, Lawrence?”

“I….” Sammy’s eyes wandered to a projector. Think like Norman. What has been happening here? What is the cause? What are the results? “I think you’re killing everyone off. For some reason, but it’s not just for the adrenaline rush. But you’re doing it. You’re killing my friends and my famil-”

“They’re not dead, though your words ring with those of prophets,” a yawning, gaping, horrible chuckle passed his lips. “Would you like to see them, see them become perfect?”

“Perfection doesn’t exist,” Sammy echoed the words of Henry. “You can only do your best. And you, Mr. Drew, striving for perfection!? It will only leave you disappointed.”

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong, my dear composer!” Joey cried out, beaming with smug pride. He tossed an arm over the man’s shoulders, feeling him stiffen beside him. “Come along, and I will show you the greatness!”

He pulled him into his own office, spreading down the blueprint of the ink machine. Wally’s name was signed on it. Sammy stared at the lettering.

Joey, talking and droning on and on about the inner workings of the machine, paused and frowned when he noticed the lack of attention from the musician.

“What’s bothering you, Sam?” he asked, smiling, not tightly, but dangerous nonetheless. Sammy’s eyes narrowed and he stirred to speak, pausing. “Spit it out.”

“I know Wally’s handwriting,” he hoarsely muttered. He pointed at the lettering in all capitals. “And that… those letters? They’re clearly not his. That… whatever this is, I know that is definitely not his handwriting.”

Joey frowned. He never noticed that. He never spoke with the janitor of how he made this. The good man was rather absent minded, and it only now seemed to sink into the business man. But he shrugged, ignoring it. The machine was the best thing to pass into his hands, and he did not care.

It was his.

“Come see it.”

…

“It feels… familiar in here.”

…

“Have I been here before?”

…

“Joey?”

…

Crashing. Struggling. Failing. Failing. Failing. Faces of loved ones swirling. Regret. Regret. Regret, oh how he regretted not telling Wally. Forsaking him. Abandoning him.

…

The hat and gloves sat beside Norman’s head and Shawn’s knife, alongside Thomas’ arm and Susie’s heart, with Lacie’s belt and Bertrum’s ring, and of course, right with Grant’s tie and Allison’s hair clip.

Joey looked at his earnings with hungry pride, the desire for more itching him as it always did. Itching and burning, deliciously fulfilled.

Joey passed his eyes along the items.

What would join them next?

Wally’s cap? His suspenders? His eyes? What would be a fitting momento of the forgetful janitor? What could Joey use to remember the scatterbrained man?

What would be fitting?

Ah, no matter. He would decide when he would get there.

He was wrong about it anyways.

It was not Wally next, as he suspected it would be.

Johnny, the sourfaced, angry, now pissed, now violent, now aggressive organist, and the new now, the after the past now, was different - his fingers looked quite nice in a jar, the rest of him chopped with the axe into tiny bite size pieces, practically spoon fed to the machine, like throwing in little bits at a time, like lazily feeding a fish.

A fish that violently trembled and tremored with each morsel.

It was forced to accept it, and the piping above the organ bursting and ink welling into the cracks and shafts of the instrument, flooding it. Vomiting out the organist from it’s inky prison like a blight.

Experimentally, Joey played a few notes. Pained, fearing groans emitted, wafting through the air, a lone afraid coyote.

Delightful.

Wally, Wally Wally! What a great guy, a real gentleman, an absolute sweetheart.

He baked him a cake.

A nice, big cake.

Acetone and poison slipped in the sugar.

The man made a mess, oh dear!

Joey pulled him into his office, his dark face seeming pale.

The man was seated on his lap, held in firm arms as he shuddered and clutched his abdomen and chest.

“There there, Wally, it’s alright,” he cooed in his ear, smelling his sweat as the poison seeped through his veins. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m staying right here, see?”

Wally gasped and shook and nodded, burying his face in the crook of Joey’s neck.

He cried about his brother, who was drafted. He cried about his boyfriends, who he missed so much. He cried about his vanished friends, and his fading family.

And he cried about how he did not want to die.

Joey promised he will get better.

He would be perfect.

The machine accepted him without a fight, resignation as it caressed the janitor’s body, cradling it, a star in the darkest night sky.

Johan rocked himself. He was alone again.

So alone.

Time passed.

He was not inactive, never let it be thought he stood by.

He was rewriting the coding. He had to make a loop, he had to find a place where it could loop back, over and over.

He needed one so as to fix what he had done, he needed more time! Just more time, he could fix this!

He found a spot.

Somewhere he could go over and over his coding.

He wrote the letter with a pounding heart.

He sent it.

And continued making tweaks here and there, writing a script.

He worked on the project for thirty years.

It did not feel like thirty years.

It had been.

He looked at the burning light in front of him.

He waited for the man to walk through the door.

And he pressed delete.

Everything went black.

His heart was racing.

He begged and pleaded for this to work, hoped and cried as he brought the computer close and pushed in the usb with the file.

He waited.

A ding.

He leapt to press the OPEN button.

A low, mechanical rumble filled the air, and he felt like weeping in joy.

JOEY DREW STUDIOS, in a moving version of the logo, burst into view.

BENDY AND THE INK MACHINE was written on the first page. Version 1.0.

He trembled as he selected begin, and he shook when he started it all.

Three words never gave him more comfort.

“Joey, I’m here.”

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