So, finally Randall will begin to explain exactly what happened in his abscence. And before you say anything...well, once you've read the chapter, I know that a lot of the stuff I have written Randall couldn't have possibly included because he wasn't actually there, but let's just call it artistic licence.

Chapter 5- The Land Far, Far Away

"How?"

"How what?"

"How do you plan on changing our opinions of you and them?" There was a strained pause as Randall made a final decision.

"…By telling you what really happened..." Everyone's attention was focused on him, and though he could feel their eyes boring into his face, Randall maintained his cool. "And you can decide whether to believe me or not. I'm not doing this for your benefit, am I?" Andy sniffed.

"So whose benefit are you doing it for, then?" he said snootily.

"Sullivan and Wazowski's, of course; who else?" Randall smiled. "So, if there aren't any more enquiries…I'll begin." He gritted his teeth for a second, then relaxed. "Waternoose had told me to build the machine, right? And so I had. And when I tried to get the Human child, she escaped, Sullivan and Wazowski got involved, yadda yadda yadda…Look, you know all of this, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And, by the sounds of it, it's was all more or less accurate in the play, except for a few…um…modifications from Wazowski…So. I guess I should start at the part where I just run off to a land far, far away, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Randall swallowed. "Okay…I thought…I had beaten them both."

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A door swung perilously as Sullivan held on with only a few claws preventing him from falling to his death. Above him, Randall's outline came into view.

"Look at everybody's favourite Scarer now, you stupid, pathetic WASTE!" He leaned forwards, leering at his enemy. "You've been number one for too long, Sullivan, and now your time is UP! But don't worry…" Finally, his tone became softer, but more menacing than ever before. "I'll take good care of the kid…"

A strained "no!" was the only protest Sullivan could manage, but he was not to know that in a second, everything would change.

One moment, Randall's mouth was curled in an ecstatic grin. The next, after a yell of pain, he was nowhere to be seen.

Sullivan concentrated on getting up through the door, but Randall's indignant cries were too piercing to be ignored. Something quite exciting was obviously happening, though- there was a lot of commotion and thumps and bangs from within. Eventually, the large monster managed to get onto his knees and waited for a second to recover before looking up. What he saw made him smile, almost chuckle.

Boo, the human child who had once been so afraid of the scary, scaly lizard-monster that had come into her room to collect her screams on a daily basis seemed to have overcome her fear and was now whacking said monster on the head with a baseball bat. She had grabbed his fronds like reigns and held on tightly, and though Randall had lashed about wildly at the grip, she had coped with staying on. It was inevitable, though, that Sullivan would intervene, and after one last bash with the baseball bat, causing Randall to shift to yet another bright pattern of colours, he grabbed Randall's long neck with one swipe, and held him firmly round the torso with the other hand.

Randall thrashed about more wildly than ever for a few seconds, but it became obvious that this was all too much for him. Every part of his body ached with fatigue and lack of rest, and the sudden cut of oxygen was the last straw. He fell still.

Boo danced a happy little dance as Sulley turned towards Randall's face and grinned a sickening sort of grin- sweet, but sickening.

"She's not scared of you any more, Randall," he began as Boo roared, trying to look tough. "Looks like you're out of a job." He said this final sentence in a manner that made Randall think of how much Sullivan must've been enjoying that moment, but the threatening edge of the statement was not to be ignored. The captive gulped, and fear showed in his glory green eyes. But glory was not the emotion he was experiencing. Regret, on the other hand…

------------------

There was a door, a closed door. It kept coming close, and then backing away like a gerbil testing out a looming hand. Words were spilling out of his mouth; words that existed purely to try and salvage his own life.

He was begging.

And, what's more, he was begging the two people in the world that he would least want to beg. This shouldn't be happening, but it was, and he would have to face it.

One of them was saying something in a jokey, light sort of tone…How was this in any way appropriate? He knew that someone was going to be hurt, to say the least, by his friend's actions, yet he was having a laugh, relaxing, and doing all the things he just shouldn't have been doing. This was a serious situation. Very serious.

Not to mention scary.

The door came close again, having been opened, but it didn't back away. Randall felt the floating sensation of flying for a few seconds before something solid rose beneath him. He was screaming and wailing, but it didn't seem to help. He got up.

"And he's outta there!" someone said, somewhere. A door slammed behind him. There were more voices.

"Mama, 'nother 'gator got in the house!" someone else said, somewhere. Everything was unreal, untrue, like he'd just been thrown into a TV show or a film where everyone has to say certain lines in certain ways, and everything's planned.

Randall had always wondered what it must be like to be a character in a TV show. Not the actor or actress-the character. He always wondered if they'd ever found out that they were actually just characters in some TV show, not real people making real choices. But what he always wondered more than anything else was how it FELT finding out that destiny really does exist, if it does.

That's what it felt like then. It was a very thick, bulky sort of feeling; hard to accept, like swallowing a chip sideways and feeling its sharp, burnt end cut into your throat. It still took him a few bewildering seconds to understand that he'd been thrown through the door, though.

They'd done it.

They'd gotten rid of him, once and for all.

"'Nother 'gator? Gimme that shovel!"

Something very hard and metallic crashed into Randall's skull. He flopped onto the ground, crying out in pain, wishing that time would pause for a few minutes to give him a chance to recover.

No such luck. The shovel came down again, and hard. And although it only took a good five or six hits for the human to knock Randall out, she persisted, making sure that he wouldn't wake for a while yet.

--------------

"Wan' a drink?" Chris nodded in reply. "Beer or summut…stronger?"

"Wha'ever." Joanna tripped over a stray t-shirt, stumbling, and threw a few random items about trying to find the beer. One of the items was her pet dog, Flipp. It yelped at the sudden movement, (it had previously been asleep in a pair of Chris's jeans) and landed in the plastic bucket that was positioned to catch the steady dripping of water that was let in by the leaking roof.

"Hey, move it." Joanna tried to shove her friend off the only chair they had- a tattered old sofa with numerous rips, courtesy of Flipp, and which was decorated with repeated patterns of blue frogs and flies- but he refused to budge. As a last resort, she lifted up his feet and legs like one would do whilst hoovering (though if you mentioned the word 'Hoover' to this couple, they would probably stick their fingers up their noses and ask why what they find is green.) "Ah, got 'em," she said, peering under the sofa and rolling a few cans of beer out from underneath. They were covered in dust and something yellow and gooey, but Chris didn't exactly mind.

He pinched one from Jo's hands hastily, then, after a harrowing sort of look, pushed it back. She sighed and opened it, shaking her other hand off as she passed it over. With another sigh, Joanna took her place on the other end of the sofa and sipped her beer somewhat thoughtfully, smiling only when Chris's burp reverberated against the plastic windows. Flipp howled in despair, then fell back to sleep.

Chris chucked his empty beer can across the room, and then slowly crawled the length of the sofa till his face was worryingly close to Jo's.

"I'm bored. I don't wanna be bored."

"Ya kiddin'?" she said nervously. Chris leaned forwards and took one of Joanna's cheeks in a grimy hand. "Chris, leave off, CHRI-" Her sentence was cut off by a mouth covering her own. The stench was overwhelming, and Chris had been wrong- the smell emitting from his throat was noticeable whether he held his breath or not. Then, as if by instinct, Jo's leg swung up and hit Chris squarely in the stomach, winding him. He rolled off the sofa, clutching his intestines.

Jo got up quickly. "Oh, godDAMMIT! I don't believe I for'ot…Chris," she began, peering over at him, "don't forget that li'l talk we had at feastin' time, now, will ya? Ya keep ya hands off. Now, I gotta go- Aunt Susannah's a waitin'!" She ran about, trying to get herself ready. How could she have been so silly, forgetting that today was a Friday? "See ya, and while I'm out, could ya feed Flipp? He's already done with me slippers."

"But what-"

"Oh, just summut chewable. Gotta go!" Jo ran out the house- a portable trailer home that should've been crushed a long time ago- and hopped into the old banger parked in front of the abode she was so proud of. With a few splutters and a lot of smoke, the car woke up drearily and began to make its way to Aunt Susannah's.

"Darned radio…" Jo mumbled, wiping some sweat off her face with an arm and pushing a few buttons, causing something to snap. She paused to sniff her armpit. "It'll do." The ride was bumpy, and was worsened by the numerous objects stuck in Jo's tyres. She had some common sense in one way- she understood that if she took these objects out, the air in the tyre's would leak out- but didn't in another way; though she would leave next door's mailbox lodged in the rubber to keep the air in, she didn't seem to understand that it would seep out nevertheless, just a lot more slowly.

The dirt road got dirtier and more rugged, and eventually Jo had to abandon her car. As she clambered out, she made sure to kick next door's mailbox back in place; it had gradually been coming looser. "That should do it! Now…which way to go…" She looked about herself, spinning around for a few times and then giggling at the dizziness she would experience. "Errr…THAT way!" Bouncing off the trees, her voice carried and scared a few squirrels, and not too far in the distance, Aunt Susannah, who was stepping out of her home, caught the tones.

The trees thinned as Jo walked the distance to the trailer, and she smiled reaching the summit of a particularly steep hill. Aunt Susannah had come into view.

"Hey, Joanna, ma dear!"

"Aunt!" Bursting through the trees, the light of the white moon illuminated the scene like a high-tech digital watch. "How are ya?"

"We got a gator!"

"A gator? Lemme take a look!"

"Come on in!"

"Ya tellin' me that the gator was INSIDE the house?"

"Ya, like the other one a few weeks ago. Get in, scoot! Don' wan' 'nother gator to come after us now, do ya?" They walked back up the steps that led to the trailer's front door and opened it with an ominous creak. Jo smiled at the smell that greeted her.

"Ya got jambalaya on the stove?"

"We sure do!" Aunt Susannah shoved her youngest son, Billy, to the side so as to let the pathetic light from the closest lamp stood on a box get to the alligator that Jo was so eager to lay her eyes on. "Ain't it a beauty?" Joanna smiled quickly at Billy, who was pouting in the corner, and turned to look at it. Aunt Susannah waited for the reaction.

"That…ain't a gator."

"What d'ya mean? COURSE it's a gator!" This wasn't what she expected. There should've been joy, surprise, maybe even relief, but doubt?

"Aunt, it's…it's purple!"

"It's got scales, ain't it?" Jo nodded, mouth wide open. A fly dropped down suddenly in mid-air. "It's got big teeth, ain't it?" Another nod. Billy took his cap off and sat down on a deck chair with three legs. "And 's long, ain't it?"

"Y-yeah, but-"

"Well, if 's got scales, big teeth and 's long, then 's a gator, right?"

"It's got eight legs an' arms an' all," was the flat reply. "Gators don't have eight o' those." Things began to get serious, and Aunt Susannah was known for her temper.

"I don' care. We're havin' jambalaya tonigh', and that's…wha' ya doin'?" Joanna had kneeled down next to the mystery creature and touched its scales hesitantly. It didn't move.

"You can' eat this…ya can't…" She grabbed its torso gently, hefting it up, but soon laid it back on the ground- she was still incredibly apprehensive of this creature. "Ya got a wheelbarrow?" She stood up. "I'm gettin'…whatever this is, outta here." Aunt Susannah glared and held out a hand to the side, motioning to her son who was watching, intrigued.

"You ain' goin' nowhere, missy. Billy-Bob?" Her son stood to attention. "Gimme that shovel."

-------------

The sun was beginning to rise, and as the car, next door's mailbox and all, was parked up outside Jo's house, the faint cackle of radio feedback was to be heard. "Why won' this thing work?!" This was followed by a sharp bang. The feedback stopped. A door was swung open with more effort than necessary, causing it to practically fall off, and Jo stepped out, scratching her head. She'd left the wheelbarrow at her Aunt's, so moving the creature was going to be a lot more hard work. She didn't like hard work, and neither did Chris, but that didn't stop her from attempting to move his behind off the sofa.

"Chris!" Silence. "CHRIS! GET OUT HERE!" The front door opened, sending the blind swinging.

"Wha' took ya so long, Joanna? I was waitin' for ya all night!"

"Never mind tha', just help me!" Chris hobbled down the flattened piece of earth that he would call the driveway in his underwear and stood by Jo, stepping from one foot to the other constantly- the ground was cold.

"Wha' is it?"

"Just carry this to the house," Jo said, motioning to the back seats of the car and opening the door. Chris picked his nose absentmindedly- Joanna was, in his opinion, inone of those 'moods' again. "And don' bother askin' any questions or wha'ever, I don' have time." His eyebrows rose slightly as the creature was revealed, but the shock of seeing such a being didn't seem to have much effect on his brain. He wiped his finger on the back of his underwear and reached forwards to lift the scaly thing out of the car.

It took them both a while, but eventually they managed to get it positioned quite comfortably on the floor. (They had had to clear out a space in the corner of the room as the rest of the mouldy carpet was covered in clothes, food, and a whole assortment of other not-so-nice things.)

"So…wha' is it?" Chris sat down on the sofa with a beer.

"I dunno."

"Oh." There was a moment of quietness except for Flipp scrabbling at the door- the new visitor seemed to worry him.

"So…Wha' happened at Aunt Susannah's?" Jo smiled proudly and sat down next to Chris. She forgot to move the plate of baked beans from her side of the sofa before sitting down, but the warmth was quite comforting.

"Nothin' much. Aunt had found this…thing…an' wan'ed to ea' it, but I changed her mind." Chris grunted and scratched his chest pleasurably. "Oh, for Flipp's sake…" (This explains the unusual name.) The dog had begun to bark loudly and was getting more desperate by the second. Jo slowly got to her feet and opened the front door, through which Flipp ran out like a shot. "Dunno wha's wrong wi' him…"

"Think I know…" Chris said, staring fixatedly at the creature. It was moving.

"Whoa…" Crawling onto the floor, Jo crept closer to the creature, and then touched it. It made a noise that sounded uncannily like a groan, and, bit by bit, turned its head to the other side. Large cuts were bleeding all over its body- something that Jo hadn't considered whilst laying it onto the floor- and most were centred on its head. "Wha'ever this thing is…it sure is weird…" The blood, rather than being a deep red, was a strange mix of blue and green, and the colours mixed like different shades of paint when they're not stirred properly.

Jo bit her bottom lip- she had only just realised what a commitment looking after this creature would be.

-----------------

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah…"

Meat?

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah…"

Yes, definitely meat. But not one that he had smelt before…

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah…"

What was that bloody noise?

"Hah hah hah hah hah…Arf! AAARF!"

He curled his hand. The pain was too much.

"ARF! ARF!"

"Grr…"

"ARF! Arf! Arf…"

The noise stopped. Another noise started.

"CHRIS! Christ, where's 'at idiot when ya need 'im? CHRIIIS!"

Cracking an eye open, Randall winced. Everything was spinning erratically and the sounds that were currently flowing through his mind weren't exactly helpful to someone whose head's thumping like a nightclub. One by one, he moved his limbs, partly to check that he wasn't paralysed or anything of the sort, and partly to confirm that they were actually there. He came into problems with the third arm.

Jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut, Randall tried to move the arm in question. It moved- he could tell as his bloody hand brushed against the scales on his side. But what he couldn't work out is why he couldn't feel his hand brush against his scales. Was there something wrong with his side? Or maybe it was his arm? And what was that incessant noise? What was it saying, what did it mean?

This was all too much for Randall's already pulsating brain to take. He swallowed, and took a deep breath. Or, at least, he tried to take a deep breath. But, once again, nothing seemed to happen. He tried again.

Nothing.

His brain ached enough, but the sudden cut of oxygen was another shock. Randall began to panic.

He struggled, trying to turn over, but something was holding him in place, and whatever this something was, it was holding him around the neck. Like a jigsaw puzzle, all the individual little pieces of information that Randall had managed to gather locked into place.

Someone was strangling him.

His eyes snapped open. This didn't exactly help- he couldn't see much- but what he did manage to pick out among the blurred shapes was the largest shape, and also was the one taking up most of his view. It had a face- two eyes, a nose and a mouth. It also, Randall presumed, had two arms and, by the way it was leaning over him, it stood upright.

Now, what sort of animal has all of these characteristics?

"Chris? I've been searching all over for…WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOIN'?! GET OFF HIM!" There was a sudden thump, and the human was knocked off him. Air rushed down his windpipe, and he kept his eyes firmly shut, thankful to still be alive.

"It's dangerous, Jo, I'm tellin' ya!"

"How do YOU know?! You ain't got half a brain!"

"Well, if we wake up 'morrow mornin' and find Flipp's been eat'n, I'll blame it on you. That thing's YOUR probl'm."

"No it ain't!"

"You brough' it home. So it's YOUR probl'm." Chris pulled on a smelly T-shirt and hobbled outside, the sun's early morning light causing him to squint in annoyance. He didn't say goodbye.

"Argh…" Randall moaned, struggling to keep a hold of his consciousness. Turning around at the sound, Jo frowned.

"Never heard of a 'gator that could make noises…" She sighed, and, once fairly sure that the creature wasn't going to be moving again, took hold of his arm.

"OH, God…" she gasped. She'd been wrong- the creature was, as a matter of fact, still awake.

"What the…? Oh…" Randall whispered, the pain in his voice surfacing like oil pouring onto the surface of a liquid; always evident, but never noticed.

The words had been a clear mistake, though Randall hadn't had a chance to realise this- he was currently concentrating on making the pain go away, not by choice, but by instinct. Joanna's eyelids widened and her eyeballs reached out of their sockets in disbelief.

The creature had said something.

There was a small slice of Joanna's heart that was pitiful, even merciful, of people worse off than herself, but because she hadn't come across many of these people in her time, this slice of her heart had never had the opportunity to shine. But for the first time since Joanna had been acquainted to Chris, this little, forgotten section had a job to do.

Joanna was also gifted with a very basic sense of common sense, and this also came unto its own at this point. The girl had understood that if the creature was able to speak in the same language as herself, or in any language at all for that matter, it must be of some reasonable intelligence, and she also realised that the only explanation of the creature not being able to show this intellect was that he had been beaten about the head a few nights previous, at Joanna's Aunt's delightful abode.

Therefore, this creature was practically human.

And if it was human, surely it deserved at least a sub-human treatment during the length ofits stay?

Of course, Joanna wasn't sure about any of this, (and she happened to be rather pleased with herself for managing to think all of this through) but it was worth a try, wasn't it? Maybe this creature could even turn out to be good company, an interesting associate to have made contact with. Sure, he had a few too many arms and legs than one would normally have and manage to deal with, but that paled into significance once compared to having a new friend…

Jo gritted her teeth as she hefted Randall's now limp body into her arms. He twitched a little as another wave of pain was laid about his body, but soon learned that in the condition he was presently in, pain was to become like a comrade- always there, by his side, but ready to betray him once his back was turned.

The sofa wasn't much, but it was the best she could do- she and Chris had to sleep on the bed, uncomfortable though it may have been, and the sofa was the only relatively soft surface they had left.

Luckily, this time, she remembered to move the baked beans out of the way before laying the creature's body upon the settee. Jo positioned one of her few pillows behind his seeping head, suddenly realising just how light his body had been for a being of over twelve feet, and stepped back, biting her lower lip.

Randall's eyes were now open, and his deep pupils were trying to focus on Jo. Neither of them said a word.

That silent moment was when Jo really came to terms with what, or rather, who Randall was. She might not have known his name, but somehow, she knew that he had a name, a personality, a life.

There was something in his eyes that told her all of this. Something profound, unfathomable, something hurt, ashamed, powerless yet so controlling…

Something real.

Randall's eyes rolled back into his head, and though he soon forgot the astonished look that had been placed upon him by Jo moments before, Joanna knew she would never be able to forget the look that he had placed her, nor the feelings she had experienced in that moment.

And, not surprisingly, she wasn't the first to be entranced by Randall's meaningful eyes, his actions, his very soul.

Certainly not the first.