I'm sorry that it's been so long since my last update. I wasn't sure whether I was even going to finish this story, but reading back through it, I thought it might be worth continuing.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, mainly because of the bucketloads of Randall that I've included in it. Let's just say that he finally says his piece.

A severe word of warning: There is some heavy swearing in this chapter. And I do mean heavy. This was a personal decision of mine, and just goes with the intensity of the situation. There is also, at one point, quite a graphic, gory description.

So, if you don't like swearing or you have a weak constitution, please do not read on! You have been warned.

Only one more chapter to go after this one! And it'll probably be a very short chapter, too.

Near Dark

Chapter 3-

The door of the Atticus banged open, and four monsters strode in, Randall following closely behind. He slammed the metal door shut behind him, and twisted its circular handle firmly.

Chuck eyed him up, concerned. His tongue darted out, slurping around his own slimy face, and he motioned for Randall to step to one side. The lizard monster looked pale, bewildered, his eyes darting this way and that. As Chuck began to softly speak to him, Ijzendoorn interrupted.

"Uh, just to let you know, Chuck, I've assigned bunks to the newcomers. They're getting some rest now."

"Fine, fine." Chuck turned to the rest of the group, all of which were gathered in the heart of the Atticus, awaiting their orders. "Nice work tonight, guys. We've got three new people on board and we didn't lose anyone. Couldn't ask for more. Go and get some rest, and we'll have a morning meeting at seven to discuss where we're headed next."

Everyone wandered off, heads hanging in fatigue. Chuck held Randall back before he left.

"So," he began in a quiet voice, once assured that the two of them were alone, "what happened out there, eh, Ran? You looked pretty freaked out about something."

"I'm fine," was the stern reply.

"You sure? Because if something's wrong, I need to know. I can't afford to let people go out there-" he motioned towards the door-"if there's something wrong." Chuck paused, staring intently into Randall's pools of peridot. The lizard monster averted his gaze. "You're a valuable member of this team, Ran." Chuck clapped him on the back rather forcefully. "Now, go and see Miles. Let him check you over, make sure you're alright. Alright?"

Randall nodded soberly before heading to the back of the Atticus, where a makeshift office had been attached at an awkward angle on the side of the disjointed structure.

He entered the small, dark room carefully, barely pulling a smile over his worn face at the sight of a monster who had become almost an old, trustworthy friend; Miles.

Miles was a simple, plain-looking monster. He had dark purple skin and a cube-like body, but his two eyes seemed full of wisdom and empathy.

"Siddown, Ran."

Randall willingly obliged, balancing on a small, rickety stool that threatened to topple over on the uneven floor. Before Miles was a basic first aid kit laid out on a small table, many of its items worn and dirty. He started fiddling with a few bits and pieces, but was almost immediately interrupted.

"I'm fine, you know." Randall sounded flat, apathetic, listless.

"Chuck says otherwise." Leaning forward, Miles latticed his fingers, engaging Randall in a way he couldn't ignore. "What happened out there, Ran? Chuck told me you panicked. Something went wrong. What was it? Did you see something out there? Something...dangerous?"

"No, no...It was nothing like that. It was nothing at all. Really."

Miles sighed. Getting blood out of a stone seemed a simple task in comparison to extracting information out of Randall.

"Well, physically, you look fine, bar a few cuts and bruises. You need some rest, Ran. There should be a bunk free, although I'm not sure what the official sleeping arrangements are now that we've got those newcomers in."

The two monsters stood, their short conversation coming to an end.

"What are the new guys like, anyway?" Randall asked, showing vague interest as he pushed the stool under the table.

"It's two guys this time round. Haven't really had a chance to talk to them yet, but they seem nice enough."

"Any muscle?" Randall followed Miles out of the room, heading towards the room where all the bunk beds hung.

"Yeah, one of them is huge. A big furry; horns, claws, the lot. The little guy isn't much, though."

Randall paused, suddenly very interested in what Miles was saying. Turning, he leaned against a metallic wall, stopping Miles in his tracks.

"And the little guy, what does he look like? Hm?"

Miles frowned, confused, but answered the question nonetheless. "Green, round, a Cyclops. And one whiney voice, I'll tell you that much."

Randall nodded slowly, then swallowed deeply.

"Okay."

"Randall, what's the big deal? They're just a couple of new guys. What, you know them or something?"

Randall's eyes narrowed.

"You could say that."


Mary whimpered. She didn't really understand what was going on, aside from the fact that she had been caught in the act and now had a lot of darkly dressed men prodding and poking her.

"You shouldn't be here, little girl. Naughty, naughty little girl."

One grabbed her arm, whilst another twisted the skin on her wrist, forcing her hand open.

"Ah, what do we have here?" The man took the keys from her palm and jangled them. "Do these belong to Daddy?" His mock childish voice turned sinister and devilish within a moment. "Not anymore." He threw them to one side and stood straight up. "Find the girl's father and bring him here. I want to talk to this traitor before I have him and his daughter shot."

Several men fussed about Mary, tying up her hands and ankles and holding her down firmly. Others scuttled about in an environment which Mary was still unable to recognise in her shock.

Slowly but surely, everything rushed back to her.

She had spoken to her father. He'd been involved in all of this, involved in the invasion of the Monster World. She'd stolen his keys, intent on going to the Monster World herself and saving the two monsters that had helped her so long ago.

But they'd caught her. And now they were going to kill her.

"MARY!"

The voice of her father echoed across the huge room, which seemed to suddenly be full of doors, hundreds and hundreds of doors, of every shape, size and colour.

"DAD!" Mary called back, but her voice appeared to be distant, as if in another world. Her father tried to call out once again, but the guards had him in their firm grip and had swiftly gagged him. They brought him over, standing him only three or four metres away from where Mary was being held.

"You thought you could deceive us. You silly little man." The gentleman who had just been threatening Mary was now speaking to her father in an even darker, more sinister tone. He was speaking so quietly that Mary could barely make out what he was saying. "...helping the Monsters...not worthy to be a human...deserves death..."

There was a loud bang, and the man stopped talking. Mary struggled against the guards holding her, turning just enough to see her father crumpled on the floor, legs folded beneath his torso, blood pouring out of a hole in his skull the way water flows out of a faucet.

Now the horrible man was standing next to her.

"Silly, silly little girl."

Mary felt metal against her forehead.


The sun rising against the deserted city was quite a sight to see. The silhouettes of the jagged buildings, all lopsided and asymmetrical, created a sort of strange beauty. Coupled with absolute silence, some might have found the experience quite uncomfortable, but Randall was almost at ease with the scene.

According to the position of the sun in the sky, it would be nearly time for the morning meeting. Randall clambered down off the Atticus, his scales suitably warmed by the early morning rays of light, and quietly snuck back inside the travelling home.

A few others were up and about in the main room of the Atticus, bleary eyed and moody after the previous night's shenanigans. There was an unnecessary amount of yawning and stretching going on until Mike and Sulley entered the room.

The eye contact between the three of them was electric. Randall stared at Sulley; Sulley stared at Randall; Mike didn't know where to look, and was the first to break the air of unease.

"I knew it! Just knew it! I told you it was Randall, Sul, but oh, no, 'of course it isn't Randall, it can't be...Hey, hey, hey, hey!"

Randall had stormed up to Sulley, grabbing him by a fistful of chest fur, and dragged him across the room and outside. Sulley almost fell down the steep steps to the ground as Randall continued pulling him along, sneering and baring his teeth, swearing under his breath and gesticulating with his free hands. Mike followed behind, waving and shouting, as the others on board the Atticus peeked outside in bewilderment.

"Hey, Randall, let Sulley go! Let him go! Sulley! Sul! What are you doing?! Knock him one! Sul!"

Sulley shrugged, signalling that he didn't want to harm Randall. The pulling of his fur wasn't painful, and he was prepared to hear what Randall had to say.

Unfortunately, Randall didn't have much to say. He had dragged Sulley around to the other side of the Atticus where long shadows were stretching out across the road, and where the others couldn't see what was going on. He pushed Sulley against the hard, cold, metal side of the Atticus, growled deeply, and swung for him with all his might.

The contact of his fist with Sulley's stomach created a dull thump, and Sulley winced. Randall's punches had definitely improved over the years.

"You...you...piece of crap...stupid...god..."

Randall's features strained with turmoil. He turned, hands behind his head, cursing under his breath and shooting fierce glares at Sulley every other moment. Gritting his teeth, he balled his fists, seeming to aim for Sulley again. Sulley threw his arms up in defence.

"Randall...?"

The lizard monster buried his face in a hand, the other still clenched. He exploded. His punch narrowly missed the still wincing furry, slamming into the Atticus with a powerful, painful thwack.

"FUCK!"

Randall pressed his forehead against the metal side as the two Mons looked on.

Seconds passed, crawling by like years, until Sulley felt it was right to settle the situation. He turned to Mike, who was still in shock at Randall's actions.

"Mike, me and Randall are going to have to talk. Get back on the...the thing, the Atticus, and wait for us there. Tell the others that we won't be long."

"But...But Sul, he tried to hurt you! What kind of a guy does-"

"Mike, now. Please."

The rare edge of sternness in Sulley's voice was enough to convince Mike to leave immediately, although as he went, the tempetation to attack Randall was still there.

Sulley faced Randall, who had remained standing there, eyes downwards, forehead pressed against the Atticus.

Sulley began tentatively. "...Should we talk about this?"

"No." Randall turned around, eyes bursting with disgust and hatred, his whole figure shaking with tension. His heart hammered in his throat. The sound of tooth gritting against tooth rattled his skull. "I'll talk. You'll listen."

Sulley nodded, giving consent.

With this, it was as though every word Randall wanted to say came out of his mouth at the same time. He spluttered, struggling to sound coherent. Every breath was out of control, and his mind spun with images of everything he'd ever experienced.

"You...you did this to me." He threw his arms down. "Every scar...Every mark...Everything. It's all your fault." Each word was enunciated carefully. "Maybe not you personally, but people like you. I've gone through my whole life dealing with fucktards like you who think that you can be all perfect and popular without it having an effect on anyone else. Well, here's a newsflash for ya, Sullivan- IT DOES. I can't go through a single pissing day without in part reliving some shitty memory of when others have shown me up. Ya know what I was doing all last night? Do ya? I was puking up everywhere. I've never felt so sick in my life, and it was all down to the thought of seeing you two again. And ya know what? I'm fed up of it. I can't do this anymore."

He paused. The ground seemed very interesting to him for a while. Then, he set his jaw and continued.

"No. No, you know, you were right. Sort of. I did bad things...Lots of bad things. That whole...Scream Extractor thing, or whatever? Yeah. Bad choice. Well," he scoffed, "not really a choice, because of that gobshite Waternoose blackmailing me..." He went off on a tangent, mumbling to himself. Sulley became rather concerned until Randall snapped back into line. "But whatever. I built the machine, I take responsibility for it and for the harm it caused. Admittedly, yes, I wanted to use that kid, the one you got attached to, but how was I supposed to know that the two of you had formed some kind of bond together? I'm not friggin' psychic, y'know. But...B-but banishing me?"

Randall stuttered. This was going to be difficult to say.

"Banishing me...? I..."

"Look-"

"No. Let me say this." He took a deep breath. Randall's tone was dark and quiet. "You didn't need to do that, Sullivan. Didn't need to do that at all. And those years in the Human World...It was hell. I learnt my lesson. Like heck I learnt my lesson. But I still can't stop thinking about what might've happened. What might've been. If you'd just given me a chance...That's all I ever needed, y'know? Someone to just give me a chance, just...just once."

Randall's eyes were directed at Sulley's torso. The thought of making eye contact was more than he could bear, especially as they were beginning to brim with long overdue tears.

Sulley looked at Randall with fresh eyes. Before him stood a relatively young, yet ever so old monster, his body beaten by years of neglect, his soul rotten and tattered. He finally realised that the hundreds of scars criss-crossing his scales was nothing in comparison to how he'd been hurt inside.

"We'd better go...The others will be wondering where we are."

Randall turned back into the shadows, suddenly embarrassed. "You go. I'll be there in a minute."

Sulley walked off, turning into the sunlight, but as he was about to leave, he remembered something. "Uh..." Randall didn't bother to look up as Sulley stood there, gawkily rubbing his neck. "I'm sorry, Randall."

Sulley went round to the other side of the Atticus, climbing back on board as everyone prepared to set off to their next destination.