(A BatIM fanfiction)
If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably made it back to the studio and have seen first hand what I went through in your absence. I turned on your machine, which I assume is what you wanted me to find, and discovered its very- interesting (and I use that term lightly) purpose.
I can’t believe that in the last 30 years, you’ve managed to keep our dreams alive in one of the most fiendish ways possible. You also managed to kill them, mangle them, and turn them against us! What started as a brain child of two friends sitting in a coffee shop is now chasing me down the halls of our studio! They’re out for our blood!
I’ve resorted to writing my last will and testament on the back of an old soup lable, praying to any God out there that’s listening that the ink I’m using won’t jump off the page and attack me! I would have used some of the paper from my old sketches, but get this Joey, they can travel via paper too!
In case you didn’t already gather from where you found this letter, Sammy was still here, but he’s dead now, Joey! Our old music director is dead! Maybe swallowed whole by Bendy! He tried to sacrifice me to a cartoon character that SHOULDN’T be alive!
Joey, if you’re still reading, I have to ask: What the hell were you thinking!? I can’t get a word in to these guys edgewise, so my fate lies souly in YOUR words from years ago. I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. I thought I was just visiting my old friend!
You turned me into a villain for crimes I didn’t know I was apparently committing by moving on with my own life.
I’d ask you myself, but Joey if you had to read this letter instead of hearing it from me, that means I probably didn’t make it out of this studio alive.
- Your old pal,