The world spun, a golden hue filling half of his vision, he could feel his skin itching, peeling, melting. It was disgusting. He wanted it to end, he wanted it to stop, it had to stop. He wanted to feel anything but the twisting vines in his stomach, turning to liquid. He was degenerating in front of his own eyes and nothing could change it or stop it, this terrifying moment of watching his skin turn black and sticky. He slammed his head into his desk, relishing in the new pain he felt.

"Sammy!?"

He glanced to the side, a flickering image of Henry in his sight. Once his vision focused he stared at the worried face of his partner with a weak smile.

"I think I'm dying..."

Henry sighed, "Your not dying."

"I'm dying Henry."

He chuckled, "Alright mr. I'm dying. What do you want your final wish to be?"

"A quicker death."

Henry shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Come on sit up... you'll feel better."

Sammy groaned but complied, weakly sitting up and leaning against the back of his chair.

"I brought coffee if you want any?"

He shot him a glare. "I can't drink."

Henry nodded, "Right..."

He sighed attempting to stand, his legs starting to buckle under him.

"Hey what are you- be careful!" Henry grabbed the musician by the arms

"I'm fine..."

Guttural screams echoed through the hallway, causing the two to pause in shock and horror. Ignoring the pain Sammy made a quick dash towards the accounting room where the screaming could be heard, heading into Grants office. There on the floor, Grant had fallen on his knees as his body melted and protruded solid inky abscesses on his body. He body contorted and writhed on the floor as this horrifying transformation happened happened in front of Sammy's eyes. He backed away in fear and horror, quickly making a run for his office only to collapse halfway there due to his weakened and crumbling state.

He was coughing again, feeling his head start to melt as ink leaked out of his mouth. His vision was going blurry again, the golden glow returning. He couldn't hear anything but a high pitched ringing, his eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to make it end but it only got worse. He felt eyes on him, he could hear people talking, but everything was dulled and muffled, his eyes barely opened. There were figures surrounding him, he couldn't tell who was who, it was all just shadows in the golden surroundings. He could recognize the figure of Bendy there, he was the closest out of all the figures besides another that quickly made its way to the front.

"Hang in there, let's get you to Joey." He knew that voice

"H-Henry...."

"It's going to be alright. Just hold on."

He watched the world turn dark on him, everything seemed to fade.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy's eyes opened slowly, his head pounding. He sat up and looked around at the golden hued surroundings, he was in the infirmary. He groaned sitting up stiffly. He felt lighter for some reason. Looking to his right he saw Henry asleep in a chair next to him. He smiled softly before going to stand.

"What in the world..."

He stared at his black hands, dripping some sort of liquid. His eyes widened.

"Henry!?" He panicked, looking at the man next to him

Henry woke with a start, his eyes wide and quickly looking at his partner.

"What's happened to me!?"

Henry took a moment to respond, his face growing grim, "It's happening throughout the studio.... it's ink. That's what the toons say at least."

Images of Grant flashed through Sammy's mind. That inky horned creature he was becoming being burned into his mind. He shuddered, shaking the images out of his head.

"What caused it...?"

"Joey I can only assume. And that damn ink machine."

Henry reached over to him, placing a hand on the side of his face. "God.... what did he do to you..."

As if something clicked in the musicians mind, he felt a grin spread across his face, and he began to chuckle.

"Sammy what-..?"

"It'll be alright Henry...!" He held his head, looking at him with crazed eyes, "M-my lord will... will set me free... yes..."

Henry stares at the man as his calm composure collapsed into a manic stress, small chuckles and murmurs leaking from his fragile form in some attempt to keep him from loosing what little mind he had after the events from the last few days.

The ink had corrupted his mind.