The halls of the Joey Drew studio have never looked more distorted.

How long has it been since you've been trapped here? Three—maybe four days? Weeks? Months?

You were a fool. Joey was a figment of the past, what business did you have actually listening to that damned letter he sent!?

There's ink oozing out the walls, the floors, the ceiling—it's bloody everywhere! You haven't even seen anyone else here, no one except those things that came out of the ink puddles the other day.

One of them you could never forget. It looked like a man, sounded like one too but the way it acted... You know it's not human.

It smiles at you as you run from it. Laughs that broken, horrid melody as you trip from the loose floorboards that tear themselves away from the nails that hold it. You've lost it for now, but you know better.

It's looking for you. You can hear its grunts as its footfalls echo through this damned labyrinth.

It's getting closer.