Alright. Finally got some work done for Ran so here we go. This is a very highly emotional chapter. It does revel the terrible event that happens at Hockey Day's end, but then again I don't control Randall's life so it has to be told. Mainly, this reflects the hiding hurt that Randall has carried since…..

Chapter 4 The Last Boggs?

Randall ran up the stairs to his apartment, well at least his apartment now. He stood in front of the door, fumbling with his key for a minute before unlocking it. The room was dark, the lights off now. Since of how well he can see in the dark, he effortlessly tossed the case over and into the chair ahead of him on his left. Placing his pail down, he started getting off his coat. Slipping his left hands out, then his right, he hung it on the hanger on his right, letting his tail flick the light switch on the opposite side. The room was illuminated by a 40 watt light bulb, making all the images a little sharper, but uncomfortable to Randall, who really didn't mind it at all. He came over to the couch in the middle of the room, just falling onto it, grappling the headrest. Sleep was a tempting option for him, but he still had to eat and, having the need to, watch something. Staying there for a moment, he finally turned on his back, lifting the top part of his body with his four hands.

There were pictures starring straight at him on the dresser tops and tables. They were a few years old now. Randall turned away several times, only to be starring at more. Randall was prone to this for so long, and it still affected him. He slowly lowered himself back onto the couch, grabbing the throw pillow, drawing his limbs closer to his body. Randall was glad nobody would visit him. If he'd actually left the door unlocked he would never live it down if someone had seen him. His emerald eyes shifted left and right at the various pictures around him. Pictures of himself and.……

Randall looked away, as if every feeling in him was sucked out, leaving an empty vessel. He never told anyone what happened when he was alone, nobody around, nobody to hear him. He didn't want anybody to know. He looked back at himself, hearing something, just in time to see his tail turn back from being invisible to its normal shade of purple. That feeling again. He wanted to disappear. But he didn't know how to actually feel about it.

Sitting up, he thought again. Why shouldn't he be happy? Then again why should he? Which one was it? He was Top Scarer, earning a great salary, living the good life for once, having fans and admirers, having people who actually knew who he was. But then again. He had nobody to share it with. Fungus? Randall wasn't sure if he counted, but he just dismissed him nonetheless.

What's fame and success if you have nobody to share it with? Or rather, what's it like when you lose that person?

Randall picked up a photo on the table in front of him, grasping it gently with his top hands. "(Why?)" he thought. Why did it haunt him? Why did he have to disappear? Why did he have to be alone all the time? A tear started in his left eye as his right hand went over the picture. It was taken in front of the company he was working at now. He remembered it all too well. The photo was taken by David Strife when Randall was around 19 years old. Right before they went into training. Himself, Jack, and...his brother.

Randall sniffled, seeing him stand beside his brother, both with smiles on their faces. Randolph was having his left arms around him, Randall giving bunny ears behind his brother. Randall grasped it more firmly. "(Why was he taken away too? I don't even know what my parents look like and now I'm not allowed to see my brother!)" he yelled in thought. Randall had received deep sorrow from having his brother disappear, but was also angered that he was taken away from him.

"(I should have learned better!) Randall thought. A few seconds passed and he couldn't take it. "AARRGHH!".

(Froom!)

He pulled back and threw the frame at the wall.

(Tsssh!)

It hit violently against the wall, crashing to the floor in pieces of glass, the picture loose from the frame. Randall took a moment before realizing what he had just done. In deep regret, like a kid breaking a priceless vase, ran over to the shattered object. He took it in his top hands, trying to fix the frame. He managed to get the picture in right, but the frame wasn't going to work. Even when he held it, Randall felt regret. "I'm sorry...sorry..." he repeated. In some ideal thought, he went to touch the photo with his left middle finger, no other thought in his mind.

(Snip)

"Ah...". He pulled his hand away, having nipped his finger on one of the glass pieces of the cover. He watched at the ecto dripping outward, but not more. He didn't really seem to care. Feeling that the front wasn't worth fixing, he took out the photo and just starred at it again.

Randall was competing for someone to blame. Was it fate? Was it someone else? Or was it...him? Randall didn't want to believe it, but could...could it be true? No. Randall didn't believe it. Randolph loved him, he said it so himself on many occasions...but...

Randall just didn't like the idea, the thought. But it still broke his heart, or at least left a deep scar, when his brother suddenly disappeared. Everyone started forgetting him, like a movie store who had hit rock bottom and was just like everyone else. Those who still knew was Randall. Waternoose may still know. Jack should, but he was transferred. Strife probably does, but he was away.

Randall never forgot. He'd always go to work, acting as if his life was perfect. But when he came home, being behind closed doors in a place that was his...things just hurt him. He and his brother paid for the apartment. At first, it was tough for Randall to keep it, but he rose in the ranks and it soon became easier. The place was like a memorial to him, he didn't want to let it go. Letting go was something that was hard for him.

Randall had to spend carefully. Enough to live, pay the rent, and the other pile was for something else. Randall had been putting a few of his pay aside for a reason. Regardless, finding three monsters, all reptilian for that matter, would cost allot for him. It was unfair, but Randall was willing to do it, even if it killed him.

Still, there was always that anger lingering in him, toward anyone. He remembered recently, he had gotten a message from the Monstropolis Obituary Department that informed him that his brother was legally dead. Randall tore it up. It was a pure lie, a pure lie and joke. Randall never wanted to believe it. He had many thoughts, many feelings from it, never knowing how to classify them.

Randall lost his appetite, but knew it would come back to him. He could always order something. He kept the photo, heading into his room. It was still the same. Although he was older, he stile wanted to keep the place like it was.

He planted himself on his bed, the covers crashing into his stomach. He was facing the wall, his T.V. behind him. With a sigh, he lifted his tail and tapped the "on" button for it. It fizzed at first, then showed a color commercial he didn't care about. Just more pitiful monsters trying to sell their stuff to someone else who was also pitiful enough to buy it.

Things were quiet now. Not in the sense of sound, but in the sense of soul. The place use to hold two family members. There use to be laughing, there use to be comfort, there use to be fun, there use to be someone near him, someone to give hope. Now there was only him. Alone. No laughing, no comfort, no life, not anything...it just wasn't the same.

Randall didn't want to be annoyed by the flashing lights reflecting off the wall in front of him. He tapped the button with his tail again, turning it off and halting the sound. Now silence.

He flipped onto his back, holding the picture up enough so his eyes could see it. "(Why?)" he asked again. They were both so happy. Everything was going to be ok, everything was going to work out. Then...then it all had to come crashing down like a meteor of despair and sorrow. His brother was the only one who could hold him back from doing something terrible. Randall remembered a few days after the disappearance, he had passed by a few shops. One was a gun shop. He could probably buy one to shoot out the memories in his head. Another was a knife shop. He could probably just stab himself. There was a supply store that had some rope. Perhaps, he thought, he could hang himself again, just to get away. Finish what he tried to do so long ago. But no. It was different this time. He had to be confident that his brother was somewhere. And someway, Randall was going to get him back. His parents, he would find them too.

Still...

Randall turned onto his right side, still looking at the picture. The thought of his brother with him one minute, then gone the next was a strong impact. It was with every passing day, it would get worse for him. The memories they could have shared together, all gone.

Randal started whimpering now. He never let anyone know what he did, always trying to hide it. He didn't want anyone knowing how emotionally fragile he was.

He dug his head into his pillow, placing the photo close to him, still whimpering. "Ahh...Rand...Randolph...ahh...".

He continued and cried till he fell asleep, the demons beginning their attack on him.

Makes you wonder how he really felt….Anyway. Please review.