Chapter 4- Arrangements

Randall had spent so long down there, every evening right on through the night, working until his muscles ached and his hands shook. Sleep was a thing of the past, as were decent meals. Now, the lizard-monster just sent his only friend, Fungus, to get him some snacks from the vending machine during the day, instructing him to leave the food on the desk at their station, ready for him to collect whenever he pleased. He wasn't worried about Fungus suspecting anything- the small, red and incredibly short-sighted monster was very intellectual, but seemed to lack the gift of common sense.

Today had been a horrible day, mainly thanks to Waternoose for managing to convince Randall to accept his offer of training Sulley, but Randall knew that he wouldn't be able to start that evening- it was far too late. No, Sullivan would have to wait until tomorrow for the good news.

But though Randall had other things on his mind, that evening was similar to many before it- the constant clanging of the pipes in Randall's little hideaway that he had inherited from his brother was added to by his own soft grumbling and the squeak of a screw being driven in by his screwdriver. It was growing intensely dark, and, once Randall's precious Scream Extractor had been built to fold away into the roof, any sources of outside light would be diminished. But, for now, a solemn sky-light remained untouched, and the stars that could be seen through it glittered and sparkled like luminous paint splattered across black card. The only visible part of Randall's body was his gently flicking tail, the rest of him beneath the machine, working on its underside.

Eventually, Randall came out from there, pulling himself along the ground, and stood up shakily. He scooped down to the ground one last time, remembering something, and brought out a torch that was flickering pathetically. It had nearly run out of batteries, but Randall wasn't sure if he'd ever have the time to buy some more. Or...he could ask Fungus...And it wasn't as though Randall was constantly asking him for favours, other than to baby-sit Fliss at times. He'd rather not be talking to him all the time- Fungus could be very annoying almost constantly, so Randall thought to keep his distance when possible.

He swept back his fronds with an oily hand, feeling slightly faint. A clock that looked broken was sat on Randall's wobbly desk, propped up against rolls of old plans and designs seemed to scream the time- ten to four, and it wasn't in the afternoon. Rubbing his eyes slowly, Randall scraped back the chair of his desk, which was also covered with loose bits of unused paper, and shoved everything else aside until he found what he was looking for- a spare Gummy-Goo bar. He sat down on the floor, not bothering with clearing his chair to sit on, and unwrapped the snack. It had melted after hours, maybe even days underneath all of those papers, but it was enough for Randall. He would eat anything to settle his grumbling stomach, though a measly Gummy-Goo bar wouldn't make much difference.

As he munched, he began to think. Randall thought about what he would do next for the Scream Extractor, whether he'd be able to make the deadline, what Fliss was doing at that very second...Probably sleeping. Or, at least, she SHOULD be sleeping. That is, if Fungus had done his job. Or maybe...maybe she was unhappy. Maybe the nightmares had come back again- it wouldn't be surprising; they seemed to have been coming on a daily basis for quite a while. Several years, in fact. Actually, about the time Waternoose first told Randall about the Scream Extractor, when he had to start working the late nights, not being able to go home at a reasonable time for days on end. But when the SE had begun to take up the weekends Fliss had completely lost it. When Randall would get back in the early-evening, she refused to speak to him. Then, when she would gradually give in to the idea of going to bed, she wouldn't sleep a wink. Randall knew- he would camouflage his scales and creep into her room, watching her toss and turn and cry.

CLANK! Something screeched in the pipes above, startling Randall. He dropped the empty wrapper, forgetting about it for the time being, and eyed the control panel several feet away from where he lay. He knew that he would have to start working on it that evening, or morning as it had become, if he wanted to keep up with the deadline, but he had to be ready to start training Sulley and desperately needed some sleep. And one thing that Randall absolutely refused to do was to go two whole days without visiting his apartment. But the control panel beckoned...he could just a small job on it...but what about Fliss...?

Staggering to his feet once more, the clanging above echoing in his ears and making his headache grow worse, Randall wandered over to the control panel, looking down at it sadly with heavily bagged eyes. He brushed back his fronds once more and got to work, a pained expression on his face all the while.

It would've taken Randall three or four hours to do the 'small' job, but he only managed to get through about half of it. The last few hours of his morning were spent sleeping erratically and deeply, resting his head upon his arms on the panel, his thoughts filled with pictures and images of Fliss.

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The mop was dunked in the bucket with a sloshing sound, wrung, and then splattered across the floor, being pulled backwards and forwards roughly. Sulley was in a very bad mood that evening, and it was all because of Randall. The lizard-monster had stormed up to him in the morning, accusing him and Mike of spoiling his life and ruining his opportunities. Sulley had stood there, awestruck at these allegations, wondering what Randall was talking about, but before he could ask, Randall had shoved him aside and strode down the corridor.

There was obviously something happening behind the scenes in Randall's life- whenever the opportunity had arisen and the head of the janitorial staff asked Sulley to clean the floors near Scarefloor F, the furry would have a quick peek inside, watching the Scarers as they worked. Running in and out at an amazing speed but not seeming to tire, the Scarers had been highly trained to be able to do their job properly, but, seeing Randall and his stealth, the hours of work and practising in the simulator room were all a waste- they would never be as good as him. Randall had a natural instinct when it came to scaring- he seemed to be able to sense what was running through the children's minds and came out of almost every door satisfied. But recently, as Sulley peered round the corner, smiling at his best friend, Mike, egging on his own Scarer, he had noticed a sort of slump in Randall's step, a dullness in his eyes, and when he went to scare, he acted as though he couldn't be bothered, as though there was no need for scream.

Something was going on, and Sulley was eager to find out, though he knew he wasn't exactly welcome when it came to helping himself find out personal events in Randall's life. He leant on his mop for a second, thinking, then dropped it back into the bright yellow bucket, picking up a cloth and shining one of many photos labelled 'Scarer Of The Month'. It was the most recent one, given only a week ago, and as Sulley cleaned it, looking at the other Randalls staring at him along the row, he noticed something different about the photos of more recent compared to the photos of a year ago, other than the fact that, back then, Randall had actually been trying to make an effort to smile (though he wasn't really succeeding)- in the more recent ones, the bags under his eyes were very distinct and his scales, which were usually shiny and used to look as though they had just been buffed, instead had a sort of dull and lifeless appearance. There were other changes that Sulley could see, but he didn't seem to be able to name them- they were more subconscious inklings than anything. And though he and Randall were enemies, Sulley liked to think that he knew Randall quite well, though their relationship was nothing of the sort.

But Randall wasn't the only one that had been acting strangely in the past few months. Henry Waternoose had been a lot more...cheerful in general, sometimes stopping to talk to Sulley whilst he was working, which had taken him by surprise- he had never thought it the boss's place to talk to someone of his level. It had meant, though, that Sulley had gotten to know the aged CEO quite well, and a small promotion definitely seemed to be up for grabs.

Content with the gleam that shone on the glass of the photo, Sulley turned around, ready to pick up his bucket, when he saw something very strange. His new mop (a birthday present from Mike which did, admittedly, cause a slight rift between the two friends and did, admittedly, mean many sleepless nights for their neighbours and did, admittedly, end up with one of the two threatening to move out until they realised that they had been arguing over a mop) was moving by itself, wiping the floor with nowhere near as much effort as Sulley would put into cleaning. It then dunked itself into the bucket, was wrung once more and continued wiping. Sulley dropped the cloth that he had been holding in shock, mouth agape.

"I wouldn't enjoy this as a full time job. Cleaning the same corridors, day in, day out...Jeez, it must get boring! But that's not what I'm here to talk about." A peculiar sound was to be heard at that moment, one that couldn't really be described as anything but scales moving and rubbing against scales, and Randall appeared. He carried on cleaning the floor for a few seconds more, then put the mop away and dusted off his hands. "No, what I'm here to talk about...is a lot more important." Sulley had gotten over the shock by this point, and found himself to be quite annoyed with Randall.

"Are you going to apologise for this morning? Is that why you're here?" Randall folded his lower arms, resting his head on an upper hand, and carried on as though he hadn't heard what the increasingly frustrated furry had said. Wagging a finger at one of his pictures, he flicked his tail like a cat, giving Sulley a very firm form of eye-contact.

"You missed a spot." The janitor was confused almost immediately. "On my photo. Surprising, really- for two reasons." Randall unfolded his arms and swiftly swept the cloth that Sulley had dropped off the floor, picking it up and walking over to the photo in question. He rubbed it in a circular motion after breathing on the glass and made sure that his portrait was perfect. As he did so, he began to speak in a leisurely manner but was, for some reason, quite quiet. "Firstly, that Waternoose has been impressed with your...cleaning," he muttered, struggling to find the appropriate word. "He's very impressed, Sullivan. Very. And, secondly, since you had been gawping at the thing for such a long time, I would've thought that you'd notice the spot. Or maybe you wouldn't have. Maybe you didn't for a reason..." He spun round, and, rather than narrow his eyes as he was prone and known to do, instead widened them a little, looking very honest. "Maybe you were thinking about something. Hmm?" Handing over the cloth, Randall then, with hands on hips, licked his upper lip slowly, deep in thought himself for a moment or two, then snapped back to reality.

"But Randall, oh, sir," Sulley caught himself as Randall glared. "I don't know what you're talking about. And what I think in my own time is my business. Sir."

"I agree with you on the most part, except that, yeah, what you think about in your own time is your business, but I don't think at work, doing your job, is your own time. And if ya do, then Waternoose is crazy to be promoting you."

"But SIR, you...What do you mean 'promo-"Randall rolled his eyes tiredly.

"I meant what I said. You're being promoted."

"To Head Janitor?!" Sulley exclaimed in excitement.

"You have very high expectations of yourself, don'tcha?" Taking a deep breath, Randall steadied himself. No matter how much he would enjoy training Sulley, he knew that telling him would be his worst nightmare. "No. Not 'Head Janitor' or whatever. Scarer." To his surprise, Sulley shook his head slowly and looked up at Randall with gentle anger.

"That was a very cruel joke to play, Randall."

"What? Do I LOOK like I'm playin' a joke? HUH? Oh for...Fine then. You obviously don't want this job-"

"What's it got to do with you anyway?"

"I'VE got the happy task of training you. But since you don't want to be promoted..."

"I'm not falling for your trick, Randall. I know how your mind works-"

"Oh, really? Ya do, do ya?" Randall scoffed. "I doubt it. Oh, I'm just wasting my time doing this, aren't I?"

"If you're being serious-"

"Just shut up and listen to me. If you want this job, I'll see you at my station in ten minutes. If you're not there by then, well, I'm not waiting for you. I just can't be bothered anymore." Taking a step back, Sulley suddenly saw Randall in a very different light.

"You're not lying, are you?" he said, figuring it out as he went along. Randall literally threw his hands up at this remark.

"Of course I'm not you dummy! D'ya really think I'd tell you a lie that'd make you HAPPY? Huh?" He turned around, still incredibly infuriated but disbelieving at the fact that it took Sulley so long to realise that he was telling the truth, and walked down the corridor, heading towards his Scarefloor.

"The offer still stands, right?" Sulley called out after him. He held up a hand, exhausted, and called out behind himself.

"Ten minutes."

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Dark and shadowy, Scarefloor F looked quite frightening, but it also seemed very uncanny not to have all the Scarers and their assistants there, getting on with their jobs. When the Scarefloor was empty, it just didn't look right. But, technically, this Scarefloor wasn't empty, Sulley realised as he slowly swung open the door. Randall was there, just as he had said, sitting at his desk and sipping a cup of coffee in the darkness.

Noticing the sudden bright shaft of light let in by the ajar door, the lizard-monster got up, leaving his coffee, and proceeded with setting up a door, much to Sulley's surprise. He walked over to Randall hurriedly, wondering what he was doing and getting a little flustered.

"Randall, sir, wait!" he called out, now jogging. "What are you doing?"

"The can-can." Sulley blinked, very confused, and Randall took note of this. "And, by the looks of it, telling pathetic jokes." He turned around, the door prepared, and went to a light switch on a far wall, turning the shiny silver knobs until there was enough luminous yellow light in the room. Sulley stayed by the door, still worried. "Relax, Sullivan," Randall said calmly, not bothering to turn around. "We're gonna do a little training before you get a chance in there." He looked at the door pointedly. "It's for me, okay?" Nodding mutely, Sulley put his hands behind his back, seeming to stand to attention as Randall went back to his desk to finish off the gooey form of coffee that he had gotten at the vending machine earlier. He then stood right in front of the giant furry monster, looking up into his eyes, then down at the rest of him, beginning to circle the rookie. "Good size...large claws...strong tail...smile."

Sulley grinned fakely, looking more anxious than ever, his lips stretching taut over his gums. Randall nodded in a sort of reply, finishing off his beverage and placing his cup on a paper-work covered table. "Not bad teeth...Roar for me. C'mon, roar, growl, whatever you're best at." Before bending over to do as he was told, Sulley looked over both shoulders, checking that no-one was near enough to hear what was happening. He then clenched his teeth, growling softly, sounding like a pussy-cat purring. "That all you got? Huh? A worthless little 'grrr'?" As Randall carried on with his reverse form of psychology, telling his trainee how the kids would rather stroke him than scream at him, the soft growls became loud growls, the loud growls became roars, and the roars eventually became exactly what Randall had been waiting and hoping for- something that would most definitely scare the human children.

"ARRRRRRRGHHHH!" Sulley belted out, throwing his arms up and rising over Randall, whose fronds had actually been blown back as though he were right in the middle of a gale-force wind. Once the silence of the Scarefloor at night had returned again, Sulley having howled until his throat practically ached, waiting for what his sly Trainer thought of his efforts, Randall looked up at him once again, then turned around without a word, facing the door. He pressed a button on the panel, causing a dim red light to flash on, and, just before creaking open the door, decided that a complement was needed. As he went back to his desk for the final time, picking up a sunset yellow piece of paper that Sulley had only just noticed, he took a deep breath and tried to swallow his pride.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow, at the same time. But don't forget," he added, holding a finger up, "all of this doesn't make a difference to who we are. On the Scarefloor, yes, I'm the Trainer and you're the pupil. But elsewhere, we're still enemies. Do yourself a favour and remember that." Then, disappearing through the door in a blur of scales and limbs, the yellow paper being barely visible, Randall was gone.

After a minute or two of intense thought, Sulley was gone as well, down the corridors and to the janitor's closet, packing away his mops and such for one of the last times.

It was humid in the jungle- more humid than Randall had expected. He shook his head to himself, brushing away a palm-tree leaf that was in his face, and turned over the piece of paper. Squinting at the badly written directions, the lizard-monster muttered something to himself before folding it back up, the message on the other side also unreadable to a point. But that didn't matter to him, of course- all the instructions were was to follow the directions, remember which way he had gone, give the message to them, and then make his way back. It wouldn't be too hard, as long as he didn't get lost.

Randall turned around, looking at the door, and then looked around it, trying to make out something that would be a sort of landmark as to make it easier for him to get back and remember the whereabouts of his portal home. Only a few meters behind him seemed to be an object that was reasonably noticeable and easy to remember- a giant, almost blood-red tree, the leaves turning from their usual shades of the most delicious emerald to a dull, muddy brown. And, by the looks of it, there were no others of this sort of tree anywhere else, which certainly helped matters.

Satisfied that he would be able to get back, Randall re-read the directions several times, trying to make sense of them, and then began to trek his way through the thick jungle, hoping that the wildlife that flourished in it wouldn't manage to deter him from his task.

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"Well, don't you think we should get on with the most important matters first? Yes, I understand that it is late, but you DID say to call whenever I wished...no, no, of course not." The fire blazing and writhing in one corner of the reasonably-sized office was the only light to be seen, and as the flames devoured the wood beneath it, letting off the warm energy that Waternoose was practically basking in, the CEO began to swivel his chair from side to side, but still making sure that he was still basically facing the fire. The portraits of his family looked eviller than ever in the eerie light, but he hadn't noticed- what he was dealing with, at that moment, on the phone was by far more of an important subject. He glanced at the grandfather clock to his left, reading the time as the monster on the other end of the receiver spoke in a hushed, deep, rumbling voice.

"I completely understand. Yes, my messenger is on the way at this very moment. Pardon?" Waternoose sat up properly, on edge. "Of course I trust him with this! If I didn't trust him, I wouldn't have sent him! I can see how you might feel...unsure of Boggs, but he really is one of a kind regarding his outward appearance." There was a pause, and soon after outrage was blasted into the room. "He is trustworthy! I ASSURE you of that! Yes, yes, he might be a scaley...No, he's nothing like his brother. You think I would tell him THAT?!" A fist was slammed on the desk. "He has not a clue what is going on, and he never will! And he's doing absolutely superb with the machine- I sent one of the helpers down there to check the other day, and he really is making progress. But sir, don't you see how suitable he was for the job? Young, naïve, desperate to prove himself to others...and he'll be even more desperate soon- I have a very clever plan, and it involves a member of our janitorial staff, James Sullivan. The name might not mean much now, but in the future, the boy'll be doing every advert for Monsters, Incorporated, and will be a role model for all of those young 'uns that want to be Scarers when they grow up."

It was the other person's chance to talk then, asking questions in an intrigued manner and secretly hoping that Waternoose would have an answer for every one of them, which is exactly what he had. "Ah, but that's where it gets complicated. And I'VE found a way around it- it doesn't matter whether Sullivan is good at his new job or not, as long as the monsters in the figure department get it right. That's EXACTLY what I'm talking about- we're not going to make any radical changes with the numbers; just enough to keep Sullivan a step ahead and Boggs a step behind. The boy'll do anything for a taste of respect, you can trust me on that one." Waternoose leaned back in his chair as before, having discussed the 'touchy' matters.

"Now, as for the 'scream shortages', well, you could say I've had a little 'brainwave' on the matter..."