Chapter 2 - The Darkness Rising
Darkness hung over the city of Monstropolis as the clocks struck 7:30 PM. The lights on the city's many skyscrapers made the tall buildings look like monsters because of the layout of the windows and the cleverly-designed outlines of the structures. The city's many streets were lit up by rows of street lights and the constant cascade of car headlights, white and red, travelling up and down the city's many roads.
Right on the edge of the city, the enormous Monsters, Inc. factory stood out like a sore thumb, lit up by many orange security lights. The almost as huge car park, sprawled out at the front of the factory, which was normally bursting full of cars during the day, was now devoid of them, apart from about four parked right at the front. A fifth car suddenly sped into the car park, sneaking into a parking space next to one of the four other cars. The instantly recognisable silhouettes of Mike, Sulley and Celia stepped out of the car and made their way into the factory.
"I meant what I said," said Mike to Sulley adamantly, "I'm only here to watch, not play. Besides I'd much rather sit and talk to my special someone…"
He glanced at Celia with a grin. Celia smiled back, while her snakes hissed with glee.
"Oh well, your loss," replied Sulley, "I'm definitely playing though, so maybe you could cheer me on."
"Yeah, maybe," mused Mike, who was by now having second thoughts about not playing.
As they walked into the factory lobby, Mike suddenly slipped on the marble floor for the second time that day.
"Whoa, Mike!" said Sulley suddenly, "are you OK, buddy?"
"Yeah," replied Mike, picking himself up, "don't tell me Randall's decided to gatecrash us…"
Celia had noticed that the floor where Mike had slipped was wet, and that there was a trail of wet, soapy water from that point. Celia followed it to a bucket of water next to the reception desk. Instantly she knew who was responsible.
"You two," she sighed, "come out from behind there."
Two monsters, clad in blue hard-hats, one skinny and yellow, the other light green with a worm-like body, emerged from behind the desk.
"Oh, uh…hi there Miss Celia," said the yellow monster nervously, "didn't hear you come in…"
"Aw no," groaned Mike, upon seeing Celia's discovery, "do Needleman and Smitty have to be doin' after-hours work tonight? You two, I slipped on your mess!"
"Oh…sorry about that, Mr. Wazowski," replied the green worm monster, a.k.a. Smitty, "but Needleman left it there…"
"Did not!" said Needleman angrily.
"Did too!" shot back Smitty. This little argument was broken up by George's hollering from the Scare Floor F corridor.
"Hey guys! The game's about to start! Hurry up or you'll have to wait your turn!"
At that, Mike, Celia and Sulley quickly strode in the direction of Scare Floor F. Needleman and Smitty quickly forgot about their dispute and decided to join the party also, scurrying along after the trio.
"You're not supposed to show anyone your cards!"
"Well excuse me, Gummy Bear, you're forgetting that this is my first ever poker game!"
"And it'll be your last if you don't get with the program, Phlegm. Wake up!"
The poker game had been going on for about forty-five minutes now, and there were just three monsters left playing - Mike, the first-time poker player Phlegm (real name Thaddeus Bile) and Bob Peterson, another scarer whose trait was dentures for teeth, hence his nickname Gummy Bear. And Phlegm, being the poor poker player he was, was about to be run out of the game. He anxiously placed three cards down on the table, and awaited the next move from his opponents.
Mike placed a set of his cards down on the table.
"Royal Flush," he said proudly.
Phlegm gave a deep sigh and slapped all his cards down on the table. "Fold."
The other monsters were watching the game from one of the work stations behind the poker table. Sulley wasn't too fazed about having to fold from the game early on, and was taking an interest in seeing how far Mike could get, and was surprised to see he was in "the final". He was also surprised that George, the self-proclaimed "poker king", had been the first to fold. Even first-timer Phlegm had lasted longer.
"This game bites," moaned Phlegm, sitting down in the chair next to Sulley.
"Don't get down about it, Phlegm," advised Sulley, "it's only a game, after all."
"Yeah," replied Phlegm mournfully, "but it's also just another thing I totally stink at."
In the work station next to them, Celia was chatting to George and Pete "Claws" Ward, while Needleman and Smitty were laying waste to some food.
Sulley's thoughts shifted from the poker game to the events from the afternoon involving Fungus and Randall. He couldn't help feeling, deep inside, that something was really amiss between the two. Had Fungus really done something so extreme as to make Randall launch into random tirades, or had Randall reached a part of Fungus that was never normally seen?
"I'm gonna get going now…" Phlegm's announcement of his departure interrupted Sulley's subconscious thoughts, "see ya tomorrow…and tell me who wins, OK?"
"Yeah, of course…see ya in the morning," replied Sulley, focusing his attention back on the game.
The corridors of Monsters, Inc. were eerie, despite the lights shining brightly along them as they did during the day. Phlegm's footfalls echoed down the corridor as he tried to find the exit. He had been a trainee Monsters Inc. employee for a few months now, but he still didn't know his way round. Another thing I've messed up with, he moaned subconsciously.
Bang.
The sudden noise made Phlegm freeze. Maybe the technicians are doing some work on the pipes, he thought to himself, stop being so paranoid…
Bang.
Despite his swift conclusion, Phlegm was feeling very startled by the banging. It sounded like it was coming from above him, so he looked up at the ceiling.
Nothing there.
Quit the dramatics, Phlegm…his sub consciousness rebuked him. I'll just sing a song or something…take my mind off that noise…
Instantly, Phlegm started humming a song, carrying on down the corridor, trying his best to ignore the loud bangs.
I'm just-a breezin' on by…la-dee-da…
Crash…one of the ceiling panels crashed down onto Phlegm's head, knocking him to the floor. Dazed, he picked himself up. What in the world…
A sharp pain suddenly ripped right through Phlegm's body. Screaming in pain, he turned round onto his back, and in horror, he felt blood pouring from the wound. Then he looked up and saw something.
"No way!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
A triumphant roar went up from the poker table. Except it was more like a shrill, nasal roar.
"Oh yeah!" exclaimed Mike, punching the air with joy, "Mike Wazowski is the winner!"
He promptly gathered up all of his money and the money he'd won from Bob, who was gracious in his defeat.
"Well, I guess that wraps things up," announced Sulley to the group, "it's about time we all got some shut-eye."
Mike went over to where Celia was sitting and put his arm round her. He was rewarded with a kiss from Celia, as well as her snakes.
"I'm glad you changed your mind about playing, Googley," she cooed in her sugary tones, "you showed them who is the real poker king."
Mike smiled. "How about you and I have a private poker game at my apartment?"
"Stop it, Michael!" giggled Celia, "maybe tomorrow night, we both have work in the morning."
Mike nodded in acknowledgement, and set off out of the Scare Floor with Celia at his side.
"He's full of surprises, huh?" remarked Sulley to the defeated Bob.
"You can say that again," replied the blue denture-toothed monster, "I hadn't been beaten in six games before tonight…Mike doesn't normally make it past the second round."
Sulley's response was cut off by a sudden electrical buzzing sound, which echoed all round the Scare Floor. Then the lights died, and the Scare Floor was instantly plunged into darkness. The only light came from a couple of windows at the top of the building shining night light down onto the Floor.
"Aw great!" groaned Mike, "why does the system choose now to have a power surge?"
"Somebody go check the generators," suggested George.
"That's where we come in, man!" replied Needleman, "me and Smitty will go check."
"OK," acknowledged Sulley, "meantime, everyone else stay here."
Mike pouted, "Uh, no way, Sulley, me and Celia want to take a moonlit walk home. Right now."
"No, Mike. We should sort out this problem first."
Mike continued his complaints, while Needleman and Smitty headed out of the Scare Floor. They had torches, so they could find their way around easily.
Needleman shone his torch on the generator, trying to find the problem, but everything looked to be in order. Usually though, himself and Smitty weren't very reliable at finding or solving problems.
"It's fine!" he concluded, heading for the generator room door, "so how come we got no power?"
"Don't ask me, buddy," answered Smitty, shrugging his four shoulders, "this is weird…"
Needleman sighed and went to open the door. To his horror, it was jammed shut. He furiously tugged at the door handle, then tried to shoulder charge the lock, but only managed to hurt himself in doing so.
"Did you do this?" he asked Smitty angrily.
"What?" spluttered Smitty incredulously, "are you crazy? No way!"
Needleman groaned, and then it dawned on him.
"We must have been locked in from outside, man…please tell me you got some spare keys…"
"Yeah, I do," replied Smitty, "in the locker room…"
Needleman gave a loud groan, and then started banging on the door in order to alert one of the others.
"Hey!" he yelled, "someone's locked us in here! Go find the keys!" Realising there was no-one there, he gave up.
Smitty looked on with no clue as to how he could help. He didn't notice the shadow creeping up behind him until it was too late.
Needleman suddenly heard the clatter of Smitty falling to the floor and whirled round, immediately yelling in horror and pain as the shadowy figure plunged a knife into his leg. However, Smitty was still conscious, and managed to get up and whack the assailant, who fell over Needleman. Realising he'd been discovered, he panicked and kicked the door, which was enough to break the lock, allowing him to escape into the darkness.
Mike looked at his watch. 9:35PM. They'd been there at least two hours now, and had spent the last twenty minutes waiting for Needleman and Smitty to return. Mike's patience had worn thin about ten minutes ago.
"This is a joke," he moaned, "I could have been curling up in front of the fire by now…"
"I know those two aren't that efficient," commented Claws, "but surely they wouldn't take this long to sort out somethin' like this?"
"OK, OK," reassured Sulley, "if we really must, let's go and take a look. Maybe they're having some major trouble with that generator…"
"So call the generator suppliers!" suggested Mike impatiently, "they can deal with it! I only came here for a poker game, not to play around with the factory's power system!"
Ignoring Mike's complaints, Sulley exited the Scare Floor, followed by George, Bob and Claws. Mike reluctantly followed behind, along with Celia, who was also getting quite disillusioned with the whole charade.
The footfalls of the six monsters echoed as one down the darkened corridor, some handily collected torches from the locker room lighting the group's way.
"I never realised how creepy the corridors looked after dark," quipped Claws, "and I'm a scarer! I should be used to this…"
"Maybe after tonight, you will be," chipped in Mike, "let's forget this whole thing and go home."
Suddenly, Sulley froze. He thought he could hear a creaking sound, which sounded like it was above the group.
"You hear that?"
"Hear what?" said Mike.
George sighed and shook his head. "I can't hear anything…"
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Jumping and gasping in fright, he whirled round to see Randall there, who had just come out of another camouflage phase. The sneaky chameleon-like monster gave a nasty cackle.
"Fancy meeting you here…lost, are we?"
"Oh yeah, sure," replied Mike, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "like we wouldn't know our way around here of all places…what are you doing here? Did you cut the power?"
"Like I would do that," sneered Randall, "you're too judgemental, Wazowski, you know that?"
"I take it that's a yes, then, huh?" stressed Mike, glaring at Randall.
"Did I sound sarcastic?" replied Randall, slightly irked now, "I meant what I said. I didn't cut any power, that's not my forte."
"Liar," hissed Mike, "tell the truth…"
"That's enough!" snapped Sulley, stepping in between the two adversaries, "we're in the middle of a power cut, this isn't the time or place for fighting!"
Randall and Mike promptly backed away from each other, albeit still giving each other nasty glares. Mike's impatience suddenly imploded.
"That's it!" he yelled, "come on Celia, we are leaving! You guys might care about the stupid power supply, but I don't!"
With that, Mike stomped off down the corridor, followed closely by his Schmoopsie-Poo. Sulley just watched after them and shook his head, feeling sick of the whole scenario.
"Maybe Mike's right," commented George, "we should just leave this…"
His sentence was interrupted by a loud crash from down the corridor, and then a blood-curdling scream.
"What the heck was that?!" exclaimed Claws, his eyes wide with shock.
"There's only one way to find out…" replied Sulley, rushing off down the corridor in the direction that the noise had come from. Hesitantly, the others followed behind, including Randall, who just walked casually along, showing no fear at all.
Paranoid freaks, he thought to himself. He made his way down the corridor, and then saw that the others had gone around a corner. He followed their trail and caught up with them.
Nothing could prepare the group for what they were about to find.
In the middle of the corridor, Sulley saw Mike and Celia kneeling down. Mike appeared to be comforting Celia, who seemed distraught and hysterical.
Gingerly, Sulley walked up to them. "Mike? Celia? You OK?"
Mike turned round. His skin had turned a deathly pale shade of green, as if he'd seen something truly awful. His voice was shaky and small with fear and disbelief.
"Sulley…t…t..take a look at this…."
Puzzled, Sulley glanced beyond Mike and Celia. Instantly his puzzled expression transformed into an expression of sheer horror as he saw the gruesome sight. He covered his mouth and gasped.
There before him was a fallen, broken ceiling panel, and lying on top of the debris was the lifeless corpse of Phlegm. On his back was a gruesome stab wound, and most of his body was splattered with blood from the wound.
"Sulley, what's goin' on…oh my…" Claws was the next to see the horrible sight. George almost threw up. Bob's face went ghostly blue.
Randall's expression at the sight was also one of horror. His normally narrowed, shifty eyes were wide in pure disbelief.
"How did this happen…" he muttered, "how did this happen…"
Celia's face was streaming with tears, and she was shaking with pure fear.
"This is awful…" she sobbed, "just a while ago…poor Phlegm was…was playing poker…and it was only his…first…game…who could do such an evil thing like…this?"
Mike hugged his girlfriend. He was scared for himself, but scared more for Celia. He held onto her very tight, not wanting to let her go.
"We have to get out of here right now!" cried Claws in hysterics, "whoever did this could still be around!"
"I second that," agreed George, "we're sitting ducks…"
Sulley nodded in agreement. "If we leave now, we'll have to tread carefully, and keep our eyes peeled."
Suddenly, Bob went into paranoia overdrive as he remembered the other two missing monsters.
"Wait! What about Needleman and Smitty? They didn't come back from checking the generator…what if the killer got to them too?"
"Don't even think that way," said Sulley sharply, "maybe they escaped him…"
"…and maybe they didn't," butted in Randall, "face it, any of us come across him, we're all dead monsters."
At Randall's negative prognosis, Mike suddenly exploded.
"That's just exactly what you'd love to happen, huh? If we were all dead, you would be the top scarer in this company! Brilliant, Randall…brilliant motive, brilliant plan! Why else would you be hangin' round here when you sure weren't invited to our poker night!"
Randall's eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to take this.
"I don't know what goes on in that primitive brain of yours, Wazowski, but you're gettin' way too callous. You should know better than to hurl accusations around the place…"
The words were spat from Mike's mouth like machine-gun fire. His paranoia had bubbled up to his surface and was now being offloaded at Randall's expense.
"I know you, Randall! I know you're capable of murder! You would do anything to be top scarer! You just waited for us to come here, and then you cut the power so you could pick us off one by one! I never thought you could get this low…but you've outdone yourself!!!"
"Mike," pleaded Sulley, "stop it…"
"Admit it!!!" screamed Mike, ignoring Sulley's pleas for calm, "admit it, Randall! You killed Phlegm, and you planned to kill all of us, too!!!"
Randall turned his back to Mike, trying to block out all the lies. Every word felt like a stake was being driven through his heart. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, trying to keep his rage at bay, but he was failing. Just one more insult and I might do something I'll regret…
"Murderer!!!" Mike's screams were loud and vicious now, "lowlife murderer!!!"
That was the final straw. Something inside Randall snapped. He whirled round, his face full of rage, let out a loud scream and lunged at Mike, whacking him across the face with his fists. He jumped onto Mike and started punching him repeatedly. Mike, screaming in pain, also rained blows onto his adversary.
"If I could, I'd kill you of all people!!!" screamed Randall as he attacked Mike. George and Claws tried to restrain the pair, while Celia turned away, sobbing in terror.
"Stop it!!!"
The loud yell from Sulley stopped the feuding monsters dead in their tracks. Sweating, tired and bruised, they slowly turned round to face Sulley.
"Just take a look at yourselves," he raged, "fighting like dogs and throwing round blind accusations, while all the time there is a killer on the loose, and we are stuck here in the dark!!! We've already seen one friend die; if we stay here and carry on like this we'll be joining him!!!"
He glared at his friend. "I thought better of you, Mike…"
Mike suddenly felt very small as he looked at his friend making his stand. He just stared at the floor in shame, closing his eye. He received a cold glare from Randall, but also from the other three scarers. Feeling outcast, Mike turned to Celia for some reassurance.
"I'm sorry, Schmoopsie…" he said forlornly, "that was totally unlike me…"
"Mike…" said Celia in a low, tear-stained voice, "would have only thought that Randall killed Phlegm if…if…he hadn't been here?"
Mike stared at Celia puzzled. "What? What are you saying?"
Celia opened her mouth to say exactly what she meant, but she couldn't say the exact words. She knew that what she would say would hurt Mike badly, and even though she was feeling bitter towards him, she still felt love for him, and would never want to see him hurt.
Slowly but surely, it occurred to Mike. Maybe this time his motor mouth had gone way too far…
"Don't say anything," he said softly, his voice becoming wobbly with emotion, "I can already tell. The way you're all looking at me…"
"No!" Celia protested, "it isn't…"
"Just…don't, Celia…" snapped Mike, "I just found out who my real friends are. And they're not any of you."
Then Mike, his eye becoming glassy with tears, turned and sprinted off down the corridor as fast as he could.
"Mike!" yelled Sulley after his friend, but his plea was ignored. He could only watch as his best friend in the whole monster world disappeared into the distance. Kicking himself inside, he turned to the others, and gingerly spoke, uncharacteristically sticking up for Randall.
"He shouldn't have accused you like that Randall…but in a situation like this your mind just plays tricks with you…maybe he'll come to his senses, maybe he'll come back…"
"I'm being honest with you, Sullivan," said Randall, his voice sounding more gentle than usual, "I haven't got the slightest idea what's happened here. I wouldn't stoop so low as to stab a monster to death…I never thought I'd say this, but I'll give you all the help you need in finding the dirt bag who did this…but this is strictly a one-off. "
Sulley nodded in acknowledgement. "I figured, Randall…but thanks all the same."
"We should get moving," observed Bob, "and we need to find Needleman and Smitty."
"I was just coming to that," replied Sulley, "you might not like this, but we're gonna have to split up."
"Split up?" exclaimed Claws, slight fear in his voice, "why? We'll be better off stickin' together."
"True," replied Sulley, "but I have an idea in which we can catch the killer. Each of us are gonna split into three groups of two."
He turned his gaze to George. "You and Claws - patrol the corridors, if you come across anything or anyone suspicious, alert the rest of us."
Then he turned to Celia. "Celia, go with Bob, see if you can find Mike, he could be in danger…" He stopped short, trying not to frighten Celia. He was reassured by Celia's nod of agreement.
Finally, he glanced at Randall. He felt reluctant to team up with his rival, but right now he had no choice. First time for everything, he thought.
"Randall, you come with me, we'll try and find Needleman and Smitty," he announced.
"Yeah, I got it," replied Randall, equally as reluctant, but willing all the same.
"Alright…let's get moving," ordered Sulley, and the group promptly split into their assigned pairs and walked off on their separate ways.
As the group left, another panel from the ceiling crashed down onto the floor below, just where the group had been before, and a shadowy figure emerged.
They'll get what they deserve…