At last, the fourth and final chapter to the story! I never would have dreamed I'd have it completed so fast, but then it was an incredibly diverting experience - from all the researching, brainstorming, transporting ideas from the mind to the document, and finally to the submission stage. Not to mention, the positive feedback it's received so far was also a big help!
Now then, for those who are not familiar with the opera which helped inspire this fanfic, especially if you are fans of two certain RΩRs, get prepared now because the ending is quite intense. For any who do know the story, well it should not be too surprising.
Once more, Mike immersed himself in the Scare Games, and training his brothers to perform to the absolute best of their abilities. It was exactly the Ibuprofen he needed for his pain, it truly was. The best part was how supportive they all were, not just for each other with regards to the competition, but for Mike with his personal troubles. Amazingly, the best supporter proved to be Sulley, after the two of them managed to make peace. Sulley was not of the same orientation as Mike, which was fine by him since he was nowhere near the stage where it would feel appropriate to move on, but among other things they had in common, Sulley knew how tolling a good relationship-turned sour could be on someone. He was also a pretty decent listener as it happened, which was just what a talker like Mike needed whenever it became too much to bear.
While Mike began to tolerate the sad fate of his friendship with Randy with progressing aptitude each day, Randy's own heart grew more and more distant from the little green ball-shaped monster whom he'd once shared not only a room, but practically the whole of his daily college life with. In all honesty, life in the RΩR fraternity seemed to stiffen his heart in many respects. Gone was Mike's sweet, timid, amiable Randy. Johnny's Randy was quiet, but proud and, with gradual increase, rather disdainful towards others. Randy would never see the change in himself, however, and Johnny took no regard; his lover was perfect to him in every way. Even if he did see the lizard's behavioural evolution, he certainly would never put it down to a rub-off from the company he now kept.
/
The entire crowd in the amphitheater was just finished singing the anthem of Monsters University. Claire and Brock began making the introductory announcements to the final event of the Scare Games, when Mike chanced to turn his attention to the rival team for a moment. The mere sight of Randy sufficed to make his resolve start to falter, but as if that wasn't enough, he managed to hear one of the RΩRs lean in close to the lizard and mutter something about not blowing it for them when it came to his turn.
Sulley was trying to get Mike's attention, as he had some suggestion to make on what order in which the OKs should go, but all Mike could say was, "Can you believe it, Sul? The same words Randy used on me!"
"What?" Sulley asked, looking in the direction where Mike's gaze was aimed as if to find the answer there.
Mike knew they had the game, meant to start in a matter of minutes, to think about, but the longer he stared at his former friend the more his recurring anger and hurt manifested, and the harder the rising urge for confrontation became to resist…
"I'll just be a moment, guys," Mike finally said, putting his hand up to assure them, without looking back at them.
Seeing where he was headed, Sulley started to say, "Mike, no -" but the little green cyclops had already charted over half of the distance between the OKs and the RΩRs by then.
"Huh. Look who's comin', boss!" Chet remarked, the first to observe the approaching Mike Wazowski.
Of course it was not Johnny whom he'd come to see. Ignoring the questioning stares of his alerted rivals he beelined for Randy and said, taking on a casual, recollective tone of voice, "So Randy, ol' buddy! Hope things have been going well for you and your new pals?"
In an unimpressed voice, Randy replied, looking away from Mike as if ashamed to know him by name, "Sure, sure. Everything's cool with us."
Reacting bitterly to Randy's cold treatment of him, Mike answered, "Oh. Good. Everything's, uh, everything's 'OK' with us too, y'know?"
Randy snorted, clearly without palate for the heavy concentration of cheese in that joke. Well, since Mike obviously desired a pre-game conversation: "So uh, you and Sullivan seemed to have made amends, eh?"
"Yeah, turns out he's not so bad once you hit common ground," Mike said, half-smiling with the half-glance he sent in Sulley's direction. Turning back he snapped, "Oh, wait. Does that upset you? Do you feel like he's taken your BEST FRIEND?!"
Randy flinched and stepped back somewhat, lower hands clasped and upper right raised in front of his chest. His body flickered in and out of view for a second or so, in the quality of a spastic glitch. It seemed as if that much of the Randy of yore still prevailed within him, but then even his fraternity brothers, albeit more staid, had a bit of an uneasy air about them while looking on at this developing contretemps.
By chance Randy had stepped closer to Chet by backing away, which to a mind set in paranoid thoughts of the inclination, could easily arouse condemning assumptions. "Oh, I get it!" Mike exclaimed in an insinuitive fashion, hands on what would have to do for hips, "Looking for protection from Loverboy, huh?"
Now this earned a few snorts from the other RΩRs, as Chet looked flabbergasted and Randy glanced behind himself in momentary confusion. Realizing how that comment had developed he quickly denied, "There's nothing between me and Chet, Wazowski. Isn't that right?" Addressing Mike by his surname came as a blunt sign that the personal basis between them was a shadow of its former self.
"Y-yeah, nothing, Squirt! I swear it! I don't even swing that way, honest!" Chet said, holding his claws up in a defensive manner and exaggeratedly pretending to be frightened by what he - as well as the others - saw as a weak attempt at vehemence on Mike's part.
"Oh cut it out, guys!" Mike snapped at the laughing RΩRs. Turning back to Randy, he said, "I'm not stupid, Randy. I already know it wasn't him I saw you with, anyway."
Grinning as though heavily amused, Randy inquired, hands now behind his back as he leaned down to Mike's level, "Oh? And just who do you think it was?"
"Well, from the way it looked, one of those big guys," Mike said in a pondering voice, motioning towards Johnny, Javier and Chip. Then realizing Randy was making it out like he was humouring Mike's claims of the truth in a crazy hallucination, he became angry again and yelled, "Stop trying to distract me, Randy! You were smooching it up with one of them, and most likely the one who helped you get in the dumb frat! You know it, I know it!"
If Mike was aware that the reason the games had not started yet, and nothing further in fact had been said by anyone about it, was because his loud accusations directed at Randy had gradually garnered the attention and intrigue of nearly everyone present in the stadium, he certainly displayed no verification that he'd caught on.
"Wazowski, Wazowski," Randy sighed, wanting Mike to cool his jets so they could get back to the game.
Mike had endured enough evasiveness from his former roomate to last him a lifetime. Interrupting the lizard he passionately declared, "8 No! I am not Michael Wazowski! I'm just a monster who's sick and tired of everyone around him thinking they can just brush him under the rug! Tonight I plan to show you and every monster in this stadium that you're all wrong! You think you can just use me for your own gain and then throw me in the trash when you're done, because I'll never be anything on my own. Well then, you're in for a big surprise, you disgusting lizard!"
"Ugh, Wazowski," Randy groaned in irritation, a hand mated to his forehead.
Mike, becoming reminiscent, spoke in a more nostalgic way as soon as his lip stopped quivering. "No, I'm not Mike Wazowski. I'm a complete idiot, for thinking that you ever really cared about our friendship." Turning to the crowd he continued, louder, "When we met, he was just a shy, overeager geek! He was so nervous I practically had to write his notes for him!"
"What are you talking about?" Randy asked, stiffening sharply.
"If it weren't for me, he'd be out of the program as well! Maybe even out of the university! Maybe he'd have ended up a starving beggar in the streets!"
"Oh come on!" Randy snapped. This was too ridiculous to even laugh about.
"But I helped him like a good friend's supposed to. Maybe I got kicked out of the Scare Program myself, but I'm the reason he's still in!"
Randy knew full well that Mike's account of his dependance on him was over 80% ham, but it was true that he'd helped him a lot. He didn't bother to untie the knot of guilt which at that moment decided to make itself a home inside his torso.
"NOW THAT'S SOME 'SCARY' GOOD EMOTION, FOLKS!" Brock shouted, deeply impressed.
"Quiet. This is probably the good part," Claire monotoned, sounding nowhere near as interested as her words might imply.
"I've gotta hand it to the beach ball," Johnny mused quietly, smirking, "he's got a flair for the dramatics!"
"Maybe I was blind," Mike said, thoughtfully. "Which is ironic, since you're the one who needs to wear glasses. Or maybe it's a lack of depth perception, you know, coz of only having one eye. But I really thought, for the longest time, that I meant something, well, meaningful to you! I was happy to study with you, eat with you, confide in you, and share the same room with you! I thought you were with me every step of the way. And as much as I wanted it, I never asked you to… feel… exactly the way I did, but I thought you were serious when you said we were best chums. Do you even remember saying that?" He paused, watching Randy, but the lizard made no outward response except to continue staring at Mike like his eye had jumped out of his socket to do a Russian dance for the audience. "So that's it," Mike said, flat but outraged. "All I ever was to you was just a rung in the social ladder you were climbing! And I guess I outlived my usefulness when Hardscrabble kicked me out of Scaring. Well, I suppose I should thank you for sparing me the guillotine, Your Royal Majesty!" Mike showered Randy with bitter sarcasm, kneeling at the eye-rolling lizard's feet to set his case in point.
As he drew himself up again, Mike went on, "Maybe it's a reptile thing. Your cold blood must have chilled your heart, until it couldn't see the absence of morality in betraying a friend! Well, if you want to be a shallow backstabber I guess I can't stop you, but so help me, Randall Boggs, one of these days I should get Sulley to sit on you! 8"
Cued to the closure of his moving, emotional speech, the crowd erupted in applause. A myriad of variations of the phrases, "YEAH, YOU TELL HIM!" and "DOWN WITH THE RΩRS! GO OOZMA!" could be heard, although the latter was countered by those supporting the RΩRs: "SHOW THE SILLY GREEN BALL WHO'S IN CHARGE! ROAR OMEGA ROAR FOREVER!" Even the members of Oozma Kappa were cheering Mike on (although Sulley looked like he was silently wishing Mike hadn't verbally associated him with this argument), and saying things about Randy that might have hurt him deeply if he'd given half a scale about them.
As it was, Randy merely responded by brushing past Mike, making his way over to his place in the lineup of the RΩRs. "Okay then," he remarked dismissively, "you've made your point. You hate me now. Let's just get back to the game."
"Aha!" Mike laughed nastily as he wheeled around, briskly pursuing the other monster. "You're just trying to throw me off by shoving a friendly reminder in my face, while you go hide in the arms of your fellow! Very clever, Randy, but I do have a brain, myself!" Closing in on him, Mike growled, "You're not going anywhere. Until. You tell me. Which one. HE IS!"
An echoing gasp sounded throughout the stadium as Mike suddenly lunged for Randy's neck, shaking him so violently that the poor lizard's skin covered practically every colour and pattern a monster mind had ever conceived, all the while he was choking and struggling to free himself. Damn, for a small little monster Mike had an overwhelming grip.
Even the RΩRs were starting to look afraid now. Most began to make themselves scarce, but Johnny did move to approach the hell-driven cyclops and pull him off of Randy… Chet and Javier, however, instinctively held him back. Mike, thankfully, realized what he was doing after about ten seconds, and let go of Randy, the both of them stepping away from each other as if they'd just been touching hot stove elements.
Mike was staring in bewilderment at his hands, occasionally looking back to the monster he almost strangled. Randy gasped, a hand on his chest, catching his breath and stilling his speed-racing heart, his squinted eyes now wide enough to rival their appearance when behind glasses.
To his credit, even if only in the name of good sportsmanship, he did at least try to salvage the situation before this act could be used against Mike's team. "Come on now," he said, as levelly as he could while still speaking loudly enough to hold public attention. "You're going to get your team disqualified. Is that what you're after, now?" Standing beside Mike, he placed his upper arm around the cyclops' "shoulders" in a show of amiability. "Look, Mike, I don't know where you got these ideas you have, but there never was anything for the tabloids going on here." Softening his voice still, he continued, turning to meet Mike's view, "All that happened was we were discussing techniques. We weren't doing anything like… that. I promise."
Mike looked Randy in the eyes, asking hopefully, "Honest engine?"
"Mm-hmm," Randy nodded.
A second or so passed, and if the OKs were almost disqualified due to Mike's attack, it had apparently been forgotten. (Good thing the campus consisted primarily of monsters easily absorbed by the moment!) Then Mike's demeanour went dark again as he shoved Randy forcefully off of him, saying, "That. Has got to be. The biggest load of crap I've ever heard! You still think I'm a total idiot? Well I'm not giving in to your wiles, Randy. You either tell me which of these guys is your lover, or we can take this outside!" he threatened, pointing to the exit from the amphitheater, fuming with fury. "NOW TELL ME WHICH ONE!"
"THE HELL I WILL!" Randy yelled, at last surrendering his hold on denial. Boiling mad now, himself, he blended with the surroundings, the only indication of his whereabouts-by-second being the RΩR jacket seemingly sprinting by itself across the field to the simulator, then rising up in front of the wall on the RΩR's side, over the omega symbol in the center of their logo. Randy then came back into sight, shooting a spine-chilling glare in Mike's direction, his eyes resembling green balls of fire.
"Fine then, Mike Wazowski! You want a confession from me, here it is: Yes, I was a lousy friend for just leaving you on short notice. And there was more to it than social ambition. But if you think I'm going to tell you who exactly I left you for, just so you can harrass him with whatever you consider a vendetta, think again!"
As the feud between the monsters escalated before their eyes, the brothers of Oozma Kappa watched their coach and teammate approach the simulator, fists clenched and an unbelievably ominous aura surrounding him.
"Oh man," Art groaned, "we're outta the games for sure, now!"
"I don't think that's what we should be worrying about anymore, Art," Terry commented, fearing the intended outcome of Mike's journey to the simulator, though he and Terri remained as plastered to their spot as everyone else appeared to be.
Back with the RΩRs, Chet caught sight of Johnny's normally smarmy expression now reflecting a profound concern, even alarm. "D-don't tell me you're afraid of a little squirt like him, Johnny!" Chet tried to joke in a somewhat shaky voice, nay too successful in hiding his own discomfort.
Honestly, Johnny answered, "I'm beginning to wonder just how far he'll go with this." Slowly, he began to follow Mike, listening carefully to what was going down between the two monsters at the simulator.
Even as Randy swore to Mike that he would never disclose his lover's identity, he continually backed away from the fuming green cyclops, rounding the corner till he was at the door by which to enter the simulation. "And for the record," he now finished, "If revenge seriously is so important to you, that you'd throw away years of hard work and your last chance of getting back into the program, then yes! I do think you're a complete cretin! There!"
Having said all there was to say, Randy then yanked off his jacket, tossed it defiantly onto Mike's face, opened the door wide and slammed it shut behind him, making the simulation child sit up in alarm. Hearing the door open and Mike's voice yelling, "Oh no you don't!", he quickly faded from view and crawled up onto the wall.
Johnny, seeing Mike follow Randy inside, began to run towards the simulator.
Outside, everyone could see via the screen what was going on inside the model of a human child's room. Inside, Mike barred the door as best as he could, then snatched up several of the toys and trinkets littering the floor and began to chuck them at the walls, figuring one was bound to hit Randy at some point. He was not to be disappointed. A yellow building block struck Randy in the middle of his back, startling him into falling while simultaneously matching his skin to its colour without thought. He landed sharply on the carpet set beneath the bed, his yellow skin immediately changing to match the carpet's pattern of red hearts on a pink background.
Before the unfortunate lizard had time to react, Mike had grabbed the sharpest instrument within reach and pounced atop him. Pinning him in place with one hand, Mike used the other to drive the sharp object like a stake into Randy's upper chest, where in a sickly fitting way, was situated one of the hearts from the pattern, an all-too perfectly set bull's-eye target.
Randy screamed and writhed in agony beneath Mike. Neither could have been bothered to notice the screaming mannequin in the bed, or the full score slot beside Randy's name, or the collective screams of their audience outside.
"Now let's see just how much you mean to your boyfriend!" Mike sneered, completely maniacal now. "If he's any better than you maybe he'll actually try to help you in your time of need!"
Sure enough, the door began to open, even with the chair meant to hold it in place.
Randy heard none of Mike's words, in his state of instinctive panic. "HELP! JOHNNY! HELP!" were his last, strangled words as he died, his skin returning to its natural scheme.
"RANDY!" Johnny cried in horror, bashing the door to the side and dashing into the room.
Watching the larger monster arrive, Mike yelled, "Aha! So it was you the whole time! I might've known!" Johnny barely had time to register what was happening before the little cyclops had leaped onto him, hanging by the bottom of his fraternity jacket and fatally stabbing Johnny Worthington III with the same apparatus by which he had just ended Randall Boggs.
As a fitting climax to the gruesome scene playing out inside the simulator, the child mannequin rose, screaming blue murder (literally) for the second time in a row. The score slots beside Johnny's name were filled perfectly as well.
The front wall of the simulator was raised, physically exposing the room and its inhabitants - one robotic, one living, and two recently dead - to the terrified audience outside.
It was then that Mike, breathing hoarsely from his declining surge of adrenaline, looked up into the shocked eyes of the audience now gathered mostly in the field of the stadium. Looking back down at his victims, his clearing mind grasped recognition of the extent of what he'd done.
As he bit his lip, his eye welling up and spilling over, he announced in a trembling voice, "Ha, w-well. I think… I think we all know… who won… the game!" As soon as the humourless words had left his mouth, he melted into a crying mess, falling to his knees and lifting Randy's limp corpse up from behind the shoulders. He sobbed uncontrollably into the dead lizard's chest, whispering his name like a jammed record, giving no heed to Dean Hardscrabble's distant voice calling out for his arrest.
/
Not long after, Mike was led in cuffs off the stage of the simulator, while the dead students' bodies were shrouded and taken away. Some of the audience had fled, too overwhelmed by the horrific outcome of the night to stay in the stadium, while others remained staring on, too overwhelmed to leave. Brock held Claire tightly to him; simultaneously the Greek Council president clung to the Vice President with a vicelike grip, brought on by unprecedented shock. Chet openly wept for the death of his idol, while Javier, Reggie and Chip more solemnly mourned for both their deceased brothers. Sherri cried into Don's shoulder, while he held her consolingly, unsuccessfuly suppressing his own tears; Squishy sorrowfully embraced his mother on the other side. Art wailed without scruple, Terry's arms protectively held Terri's while the shorter twin shed frightened tears. Sulley's gaze remained transfixed on the stage, as if the blue monster were trying to mentally teleport himself to a faraway land.
Mike himself was glass-eyed as he was taken out of the stadium and away to the vehicle which would soon transport him to jail for his crime of passion. For almost his whole life he'd dreamed of becoming the greatest scarer the world had ever seen. No matter how many times anyone in his life had put down the idea, he'd always firmly maintained belief that it was truly in him, and that one day they'd all see that. Never could he have fathomed, not even in his worst nightmare, that it would take falling into an unreciprocated love with his college roommate, being callously abandoned by him for another, and finally being driven balistic enough to kill them both with hundreds watching, in order to prove that Mike Wazowski, always deemed the most unlikely candidate, was indeed the scariest monster in the world.
The end.
AN: As the great philosopher Bugs Bunny once said, "Well, what did you expect in [a parody of] an opera? A happy ending?" Yes, I know, it's terribly tragic, what happened to poor Randy and Johnny, let alone poor Mike. I mean to say, on the downside, that final event of the Scare Games will most likely have to be declared "inconclusive" or something of that variety now; the Oozmas probably won't get their happy ending either, and the events of "Monsters, Inc." can't take place (thereby it seemed only fair that I throw in a few references to the dialogue from that film ;). On the upside, however, Don and Sherri still come together in the end, those human adults don't have to suffer the fright of their lives, and Mike actually did succeed in proving himself a scary monster! Surely that fills the bill of compensation, right?
Semi-appropriate lightheartedness aside, I would like to thank those who've supported this fanfic, and I would like to thank all my sources of research - from watching "Monsters University" and videos of various adaptations of "Pagliacci" on alternate weekly basis throughout January, to intense study of an English libretto of the opera as well as analytical documents from third-party sources, to detailed studies of source material on the MU characters and settings and even some fan material (to get a sense of how to write the characters). I hope that, from the unified perspective of those who read "Spaventatores", my efforts have come to fruition. Thank you all, once again! :)