The portal had unfolded. Randall had no much time to structinize who was the user of it, though. Rapidly he changed his skin colour and slipped along the wall towards the closet, when he saw the big creature getting closer the girl's bed.
"That moron is back against me… won't see the door opening. Careful… there may be workers on the scare floor…" he grimaced in his invisible form, slightly slipping into the dimension wormhole. A gap of few inches was enough for his snake-like body to creep through the gateway.
For his surprise, the work ground beyond there was empty. The door, which he had entered, was the only one jutting in its scaffold. Glancing quickly around, he gasped in terror after seeing the changes the year had brought along.
"W-What is this place…?" he exhaled, eyes wide open. Spinning around and around, he could not comprehend at all, what had the alterations been.
"Is this supposed to be some kind of a scare floor?" He tapped to one of the assistant tables to pick up a pair of raillery implements. "What is this… who…" Leering over his shoulder, he attached his regard to the big end wall.
"LAUGH FLOOR?" he panted. "Laugh floor? What has happened to the scream energy? Has this place been turned to some idiotic titter factory?"
Of course, Randall could not know the modifications that were done when he had been the slave of the Human World. How could he have been aware of the resurrection of Monsters Incorporated since old Waternoose was arrested?
Horrified he was, comprehending the new winds. Wasn't he once supposed to bring the new glory to the energy fields, with his superb invention? And now… everything had turned upside down.
Suddenly Randall heard noises coming from the portal, through which he had just entered his ancient home. In a breeze, he turned invisible against the dark wall. His eyes narrowed with hatred when he understood who had just scrambled out of the door.
"James P. Sullivan…" he muttered, clenching his fists. "What is his part here, nowadays? Is he behind this impossible idea to bring energy with laughters?"
Humming there content to the night's work, the big, hairy creature detached the energy bottle from its scaffold, pushing then the button that took the door back to its stock. In his all innocence, he did not have the slightest clue that there was this external spectator. Although… the thundercloud remained upon his head, buzzing his ears with the strange melody that there was something wrong…
As Sulley left the laugh floor, Randall without a sound followed him along the corridors.
"I'm finishing off that moron, who destroyed me and my glory…" the chameleon murmured to himself, searching for an appropriate object with his eyes "…something heavy for to bunch that oversized teddy bear…" But, second thoughts came into his mind. What if he would not hurry that much, but observe at first, what had happened here during his non-attendance?
"That's a plan… but watch your steps, hair carpet…" he spat after Sulley, who was preparing to go home.
---------------
The night had fallen. The foreigner of the Human World has thus finally returned home, from his long journey in misery. Promenading there in the shaded corridors of the laugh energy factory, he felt nothing but animosity and emotions of vengeance.
"What has happened here? Monsters Incorporated is not the same as it used to be, any longer…"
Slightly Randall let his three-fingered hand skim the wall. "So much has changed during my absence. Where is the splendour of scaring…? Monsters aren't here for to make irritating kids laugh, no… This is ridiculous, impossible to understand…"
When the dawn illuminated the sky, the miscreant had come up with a waterproof plan. At first, he would search for an assistant, someone who was enough stupid to believe his lies he was going to feed to that poor fellow. "I'm surely going to make him trust that my intentions are 'innocent', that I was cursed with a wrong justice… when I was kicked out of here. And that I've now returned to help all the poor monster beings…"
As the workers of the factory began to wriggle and lumber in on the morning hours, Randall tuned his chameleon skills to their best point, staying like a ghost in the background, watching every move of the population. He found out Sulley's current post as the leader of the company, as well as Mike's responsibilities. The envy in him grew like a bonfire made of dry wood, making him wish the worst possible destiny to his ex-co-workers. Among this all, he still had a place where he lurked a bit longer, letting his vision rest in monster beauty.
"Celia… she is as beautiful as ever…" Randall stared at the receptionist with a sparkle in his eye. "Only that she has done such a poor choice by crawling mushy after that green idiot… but, she'll see after some time that there are facilities for better choices, like me…"
Wiping now these conceptions away from mind for a while, Boggs prepared to search for a suitable henchman.
In a lonely corridor, wing Z, walked somewhat a simple-minded worker. He pushed a flivver that was loaded with miré-coffee, musty doughnuts, eye scream, all that a gourmet-specialist bogey would adore. However, his little buffet was jerked aside when an invisible hand grapped it and its owner behind the corner. In front of the worker's scared eyes, Randall appeared from the world of masquerade.
"But… ya… ya're Randall Boggs!" the male, named Trent, gasped. He was a grey ball with three legs, the skin decorated with purple spots.
The villain was ready to start his foul play. He took a dolorous grin on his face, crossing his hands and began to whine with a falsetto tone, "Yes… from the squalors I have returned… finally to see my old home…"
The other one shook his head, wondering what was going on. "But… I thought ya were kinda… banished? Weren't ya?"
"Yes… dropped to the abysses of Styx, with falsity and injustice…" Randall let fake tears flow along his cheeks.
A few minutes he sang his opera, how he was with wrong condemnation chased to live among humans, what kind of horrors he had experienced there. And that it was a nasty plot of two certain persons, made to harm the 'innocent' chameleon. Soon Trent was crying like a waterfall to this tale, believing every quarter and half of the words.
"Sniff… that's so sad… how could Sullivan and Wazowski ever do that to ya…?" he snuffled to Boggs, who created a little nimbus over his head.
"They're filled with the forces of evilness… they were jealous to me, because I was the rising morning star of Monsters Incorporated…"
"Aww… I'm so sorry… can I be yar friend?"
For a nanosecond, Randall's mouth twisted into a malicious grin, forming instantly then again the woeful smirk.
"Oh, you would be my friend? At least to gain one friend in this place…" he flooded his aria.
"Yes, yes!"
"Now… you go back to your work, faithful friend… but tell your company, what kind of inequitable despots the leaders of this company are. And you know what?" the scoundrel whispered to the blue-eyed employee, "I believe they're brooding something really bad for everyone that is having his or her job over here…"
"Sure, sir! I'll warn ev'ryone!" Trent inhaled afraid.
"But… don't mention yet, who told you all this. We'll work it out, together, when we have enough power on our side, against the evilness!" Randall wiped away his tears.
After Trent had disappeared behind the corridor joint, Randall burst into wicked snickers. "Yes, little idiot, go on to tell your pals, what kind of demons Sullivan and his minions are… little by little, I'll turn every worker here against you, letting you understand, what is the might of Randall Boggs… you'll face a faith worse than death… and after you are gone, MI will turn back to its normal function… with the leading of me. But first, a little sabotage, so we all get to know, what kind of monsters you really are… Mr. Throw Rug and Ocular… hehhehheeh…"
….to be continued…. I'm open to flames and ideas. Tell me what you think of this fic this far. And please report bad grammar errors.