Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red, yellow, blue, green. Tentacles, horns, fur, scales. Stripes, spots, gradients, freckles. Tall, small, wide, thin. No other living beings are as diverse as the monsters. Each one is unique and bizarre in its own special way. One monster’s hands might be covered in clammy suction cups, while another’s arms are thick with coarse fur, ending in razor-sharp claws. Some were no bigger than a bumblebee, while others loomed so large they cast shadows over entire buildings.

Not only that, but many have incredible abilities, such as flying or fire-breathing. Some monsters cough up poisonous mucus, and others can lift objects over six times their weight. Quite a few can change form, cut through steel with their claws, or stick to any surface. And others have great personalities. 

Of course, some abilities are more prevalent than others. However, particular abilities are so rare that many monsters don't believe (or are aware) that they exist. Invisibility, for instance, has only been recorded in a few monster families and is considered the rarest trait of all. Even if monsters possess the skill, it is tricky to master and use wisely.

*

"May I use the bathroom?"

Mrs. Xanders, a green gelatinous monster, sighed and nodded her wobbly head. "Yes, Randy, but please be quick." With a graceful yet gooey motion, she turned back to the chalkboard as she resumed her monotone lecture, droning on about the states of matter to a class that seemed more interested in the dust motes floating lazily in the air than her words.

The tiny, purple monster grabbed the hall pass and scuttled out of the third-grade classroom. His two hearts beat faster as he quietly swung open the bathroom stall. Randy removed his glasses and grimaced as he carefully hid them beside a toilet.  

Okay, I can do this, he repeated to himself. I'll go in, grab the answer sheet, and get out.

He looked in the mirror and watched himself disappear scale by scale. He'd have to be quick; he had never stayed invisible for long. 

This will be okay, and everything will be fine!

Randy opened the classroom door quietly and slithered inside. The tired students watched Mrs. Xanders label her molecular diagrams of solids, liquids, and gases on the whiteboard with a squeaky blue marker. 

The only one who noticed the door quickly open and close was a red curly-haired monster named Nate. He resumed watching his green teacher with boredom written on his face, but his leg bounced excitedly. 

Nate was one of the most popular kids in the grade. If Randy could impress him, he might be able to join Nate's highly coveted friend group. A couple of days ago, he had been climbing the jungle gym alone when Nate and his friends approached Randy. A math test was on Friday, and much of the class dreaded it.

"Uh, no, I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to get in trouble!” Randy stammered to Nate's gang. 

"Aw, come on! It's not like we are stealing the nuclear codes. It's just the answer sheet,” pleaded Nate. “If we know what’s on the test, we'll get easy A's.” 

Nate's friends all nodded their heads in agreement.

"No one else can do what you do! You should take advantage of that!" one said.

Randy avoided eye contact. Use his invisibility to steal something? That was a big no-no! Mom would ground him forever. Besides, he didn't need to know what questions were on the test. Math came easily to him.

"I'll let you join our group!" blurted Nate, snapping Randy out of his thoughts. 

A possibility to make friends? And with the coolest monsters in class? There was no way Randy was going to turn down that offer. 

After spending several recesses spying on Mrs. Xanders through the classroom window and formulating a plan with Nate, the invisible eight-year-old found himself creeping closer to Mrs. Xander's purse behind her desk. The oblivious teacher stored the blue marker in her gelatinous body and began to answer questions from the class. Once behind the desk, Randy took a breather and briefly reappeared. He hadn't been invisible for so long before, and it was mentally and physically wearing him down.

Nate and his buddies distracted her with several questions while Randy quietly dug through her purse. Wallet, old receipts, makeup, extra goo, aha! Keys! Holding the ring of keys carefully so they wouldn't clink, Randy picked out the one he'd spied her use and slowly unlocked one of the desk drawers. Mrs. Xanders was none the wiser but sounded irritated by Nate's increasingly stupid questions. 

Uh-oh , Randy thought. Without his glasses, figuring out what the papers said was hard! Which one was the math test? 

I'll just take them all, Randy reasoned. That will make Nate even happier! 

Carefully and quietly folding the answer sheets, Randy covered them as much as he could with his four arms and chest. If he kept his back to Mrs. Xanders and the class, hopefully, they wouldn't see floating bits of paper. 

Taking a big breath, Randy turned invisible once more. Even though he had a little break, he didn't know how much longer he could maintain his camouflage. 

Go, go, go! he thought. 

"No, Nate, I am not considered a liquid. I'm a colloid, actually, but we'll discuss that tomorrow. Does ANYONE else have a question?” sighed the slimy teacher. 

She glanced at the clock. "Actually, we need to wrap this up and practice for the upcoming test. And Max, could you go check on Randy?" she asked one of the students. "He's been gone for a while."

At that moment, the worst possible thing that could happen, happened. All the students gasped as the poor young chameleon lost his stamina and suddenly reappeared. 

No! Randy screamed internally. Oh-no!

"Randy!" Mrs. Xanders exclaimed. "What are you—." She paused when she noticed the papers he was holding. "What have you got there?"  

Randy's big green eyes widened, and his scales flushed red-violet. His mouth opened as if to speak, but his panic-stricken mind was at a loss for words.

The angry teacher grabbed the priceless papers, and Randy found himself in the principal's office alongside Nate and his furious gang. 

Randy wanted to disappear forever or skedaddle to a different country. The principal, a dark blue multi-eyed monster with rows of jagged shark teeth, had yelled at the monsterlings for what felt like hours.

"Way to go," muttered Nate to Randy as the principal escorted them back to their classroom. 

"Where are your glasses, Randy?" Mrs. Xanders sighed when they returned. 

"The b-bathroom," he squeaked in embarrassment. Some students giggled. 

She asked another student to fetch his glasses, and the school day resumed. Yet Randy was in shock. He couldn't pay attention to the other lessons that day. He did, however, notice the seething glares from Nate and cruel whispers from his peers. So much for joining a friend group.

When the school bell rang to dismiss the students for the day, Mrs. Xanders stopped Randy with a jiggling arm before he could bolt.

"I called your Mom,” she said quietly, "We need to have a meeting. She'll be here in a bit, so just stay here, ok?"

*

Today is the worst day of my life, Randy thought glumly, watching the scenery blur past the car window.

"Randy," Kori said softly, I hope you learned a lesson about using your abilities wisely.” 

His mother, Kori Boggs, was a bipedal, magenta-scaled monster. She had long fronds that hung from the sides of her head, which were much longer and tipped with yellow, like her long whip-like tail. Her snout was long and narrow, unlike Randy’s broad face, which he inherited from his father.

Her violet eyes glanced at the rearview mirror to check on her guilty son in the backseat. She was furious at him, but mostly sad. He was a good kid, but his struggle to find friends kept her up at night. She was sure his stunt today wouldn't make his search any easier.

Kori hesitated, unsure how to continue. While she gripped the steering wheel, her second pair of hands picked at her claws. Randy remained silent, holding back tears as he recalled the parent-teacher meeting. 

"I love having Randy in my class,” Mrs. Xanders had told his mother. "He's very smart and easy to teach. I know he has difficulty making friends, but he is a good example for the other students." Her expression grew more serious. "However, he broke my trust today. I've never had a student with his special ability before. I had no reason to be worried about it until now. Today, I have witnessed its potential to harm my classroom. I worry that if we don't keep his invisibility in check now, there will be horrible consequences down the road!”

Randy bowed his head and avoided eye contact with both adults. Kori shifted in her chair uncomfortably.

"Yes, of course. I've been strict with Randy using his abilities his whole life." Kori had said, trying to reassure Mrs. Xanders. "He's never used it before to get into trouble at school until today. I'll talk with him again, and we will ensure that something like this never happens again. Right, Randy?"

"Yeah," muttered Randy so quietly it was barely audible.

"Thank you," said Mrs. Xanders. "Randy, I know today was rough,” she said softly. But I know you are better than this. No more invisibility in my classroom." 

Kori parked the car behind their unique home. They lived in a comfortable dwelling atop her business, Kori’s Cavern: Bakery and Cafe, in the heart of Monstropolis. She started her company by selling pastries at farmers' markets and eventually became the proud owner of her own store. 

"Randy, wait," she instructed before he attempted to run inside.

What now? Randy thought, I just want to go to my room!

She turned to look at him in the backseat. "Despite what happened today, I know you are an incredible monster. Your ability is one of the reasons why you are so special. I don't know of anyone else besides you and your dad who has that gift. I think it gives you the potential to do amazing things."

"Like what?" he snapped.

"Maybe you could work with the police to catch bad guys. Or collect information about children at a factory like Monsters Inc., or even become a scarer." 

Randy contemplated her advice, but didn't think he would master his ability well enough to do cool stuff like that. It was so hard to control! He'd probably blow it again.

"But you must be aware of your gift's negative consequences,” Kori warned. "If your father used his ability wisely, he might still be with us. I could never forgive myself if something bad happened to you, too." 

Randy didn't remember his dad very well. He had only been three when his dad died. On the other hand, his older sister, Hailey, recalled their father fondly. 

Shane Boggs was the type to laugh in the face of danger, an adventurer at heart with a mischievous spirit. It was a deadly combination, especially for someone who can turn invisible. One fateful day, Shane snuck past the security cameras into an old, decaying scare factory. The crumbling walls and sagging beams had long since given up their strength, but that didn’t stop him from exploring every dark corner. Unfortunately, the building collapsed around him. For days, rescue teams searched through the wreckage, but it wasn’t until the fourth day that they found Shane’s body. The tragedy left a permanent scar on Kori’s heart, and from that day on, he viewed Randy’s inherited ability with nothing less than wary caution.

"Dear, please promise me that you won't use your blending if it might lead to trouble," Kori said sternly. "I worry that somebody will pressure you to use your gift for bad intentions again." 

Randy shrank under her intense stare. "I promise."

"Good." Her face brightened, and they stepped out of the car. "Will you see if Hailey made it home on the bus? I need to check on the bakery."

"Yeah, ok,” he sighed. 

Before he could open the door to their apartment, she called out one more thing.

"No cupcakes for you today!"

"Aw, man.”

Chapter Text

Thirty-four years later.

A cheerful orange-tentacled monster slithered down the hallway of Monsters, Inc., clutching a lunch bag tightly in one of his many tentacles as he made his way toward the cafeteria, humming a quiet tune. He was completely unaware of someone lurking in the shadows, carefully watching his every move.

Randall impatiently waited until the employee was out of sight and reappeared in his distinctive purple, pink, and blue scales. Double-checking to ensure the coast was clear, he pushed his cart full of garbage toward another trash can. Picking it up, he tossed a bag of empty Drooler Cooler cans and coffee cups on the ever-growing mountain of junk. Noting how full the cart was, Randall turned it the other way and headed toward the trash compactor. After this, he would sweep the men's locker room. Then, mop up slime trails, clean the windows on Laugh Floor K, and wipe up cafeteria spills. The to-do list was never-ending. 

In hindsight, he realized how good he had it a few years ago. He had his dream job, made a decent income, and was a household name in the monster world. His numbers on the scare boards were among the highest in history. 

But anger, hatred, and jealousy had been his downfall. Over his lifetime, he had gotten more cruel, impatient, and villainous. Instead of noticing the fortunate things happening in his life, envy drove him mad. Sullivan was always more fearsome and more popular. Randall couldn't stand it. He had grown sick of being second-best for over a decade.  

On top of that, no matter how productively he collected screams, the monster world remained in crisis. Blackouts occurred too frequently, and the effects were devastating. What put Randall over the edge was the death of his mother. She was having surgery; it was supposed to be a simple one with a high survival rate. However, a blackout struck the hospital, and the backup power system encountered problems. Kori died on the operating table. 

Hatred ate him alive. He hated Sullivan for making him feel inferior and the human kids for being harder to scare. The Scream Extractor was the metaphorical stone that would deal with those two bothersome birds in his life. 

Instead of being his ticket to success, it was his ticket to banishment—illegal banishment. But since he was a jerk, many monsters believed it served him right, and officials didn’t bother sending a search party.

A crazy human woman welcomed him into the human world with a shovel. A long scar across his face, like a jagged tear, reminded him of the traumatic experience whenever he looked in the mirror.

In addition to grappling with his head injury, Randall found himself face-to-face with a hurricane that arrived soon after his arrival. It felt as though the human world itself had sensed the presence of a foreign creature and decided to purge him. The hurricane’s winds howled like angry beasts and tore away the few places where he had managed to find refuge. Tides from the relentless floods threatened to drown him. Yet, amidst the chaos and destruction, the most overwhelming force he faced wasn’t the storm itself, it was change.

He had lived in the city his whole life and knew little about outdoor survival. The abrupt life change forced him to figure out where to eat, sleep, and hide, and none of those things were consistent. Survival wasn’t easy. 

At first, he spent most of his energy finding children's rooms and waiting for a monster to open the portal. He fantasized about the revenge he would unleash on Sullivan and Wazowski. 

Then, the realization hit. If he went back, the authorities would capture him on account of the Scream Extractor, kidnapping, and attempted murder. Was it better to be safely confined in a cell or explore a dangerous world? He had chosen the latter and lived secretly among humans for two and a half years. 

Over time, Randall’s hatred had slowly simmered into a deep pool of regret and loneliness. He refused to speak to humans, but the alligators weren't exactly good for conversation. 

Every night, his crazy and selfish choices haunted him. Why did I have to design that stupid machine? he thought repeatedly. Why did I push away my only family? Why didn't I realize how good I had it? His past actions were a heavy burden that he couldn't shake off. 

Though Randall thought he would never return, the years of his ordeal were wearing. That little cell seemed more appealing now. 

After trying again for several sleepless nights, fate was finally on his side, and a monster unknowingly opened the door to the children’s room he was hiding inside. 

He could have turned invisible and snuck back into his world, but he was tired of running. The jokesters of Laugh Floor X were stunned when a monster, presumed dead, stumbled out of a kid's door. He was too dazed and sleep-deprived to understand why the colorful confetti, balloons, and silly props covered the scare floor.

The CDA whisked him away, handling him like he was radioactive. He was thrown into quarantine and treated for his injuries and malnutrition. He accepted it all begrudgingly. It was so nice not to feel hungry or search for a safe place to sleep. However, the winds of change weren’t finished with him yet. He lashed out when a rehab officer broke the news about the transition to laugh power. Throwing a chair at the wall was probably not the best way for him to react. 

His trial was the talk of the town. Randall had already been well known before his banishment, but monsters were fascinated by his involvement with the Scream Extractor and his long life among humans. Randall always wanted to be more famous, but not in this way.

Ultimately, the judge decided he had already served part of his punishment thanks to his years of illegal banishment. However, the judge ordered Randall to spend a year in rehabilitation before rejoining society. He was also forbidden from scaring ever again or becoming a jokester and had a restraining order from all human children. The scaring restriction hurt since being a scarer was a big part of his identity, but he was okay with never seeing a human again. 

Randall's older sister, Hailey, was ecstatic when his year of rehabilitation ended. She was Randall’s only visitor in rehab and convinced him to move back to his childhood home with her family. Randall had no choice but to accept. Where else could he go with his criminal record and diminished finances? 

After all he had been through, Randall felt like a stranger and a freak in his own world. His self-worth had disappeared, and he was ashamed of his reputation. To cope, he often turned to his ability to vanish into thin air, using invisibility as a shield to protect himself from the stares of others and the suffocating attention of the press whenever he stepped out for even the simplest of errands.

Randall had no intention of staying with Hailey's family for long. He wasn't the type to accept help and had an uneasy relationship with her protective husband, Alan. However, finding a job had been very difficult. No one wanted to hire him; he had too much baggage. He could not even work at the bakery Hailey had inherited from their mother. His presence was bad for business, and Hailey's employees were mostly young female monsters who freaked out about working alongside him. 

Nothing surprised him more than being offered a job by Monsters, Inc. Needleman and Smitty were hired as jokesters, and the factory needed to fill their janitorial positions in MIGHT (Monsters, Inc.'s General Hygiene Team).  

Randall would never have gone to Monsters, Inc. again, but his desperation chose for him. It was a job where he could simply clean and stay out of the way. The pay wasn't great, though. He was sure he made more money as a high schooler. But a job was a job. The best part was he barely saw Sullivan and Wazowski. And when he did, he would just use his ability to avoid them. Honestly, he did that with every monster that came too close. Except for one monster.

"Hey, Randall!" greeted a yellow and green monster as Randall approached the trash compactor.

Lou Dooley had filled the other janitorial spot. He was a chatty and overconfident monster with a devilish streak. His idea of fun was causing chaos around the factory, like stealing the jokester's squeaky toys and whoopee cushions and hiding them under seat cushions. His devious green eyes sat atop his slightly slimy yellow body, and green stripes ran down his back, arms, and tentacles. He had a long tail that ended in a sea-urchin-like ball. A blue Monsters, Inc. hat sat atop his shiny green mullet, and two short horns protruded from the sides of his head. Sharp teeth filled his snout, which grinned at Randall. 

"Let me help you with that!" he insisted, grabbing some trash bags. Lou then seized some empty soda cans from one of the bags and tossed one into his mouth for a little snack. Crunching loudly on the can, he shoved the bags down the compactor chute. 

"Want one?" Lou said after swallowing and offered Randall one of his cans.

"No," he replied stiffly. Metal didn't agree with him. 

“More for me,” Lou shrugged. 

Lou sometimes got on Randall's nerves, but he was one of the only monsters he tolerated at Monsters, Inc. Although his talkative nature and overly friendly attitude were annoying, they helped distract Randall from his spiraling thoughts. 

After taking care of the trash, Lou motioned Randall down the hall. "C'mon! The men's locker room needs some tidying up. I heard one of the toilets overfilled again today," he said a little too happily. 

"Great," Randall pouted, "Just great."

Randall walked silently behind Lou and kept a lookout for passing monsters.

Will this be how I live the rest of my life? Randall thought gloomily, Hiding like a coward and cleaning up filth?" 

Chapter Text

"Hmm," pondered the co-president of Monsters, Inc. The green cyclops studied a poster board pinned with pictures of luxurious cars that he had propped on an easel. "Should I buy the Banshee or the Gargoyle? Or both?" 

The blue CEO rolled his eyes and resumed typing his email. Sulley thought Mike's newfound hobby of car collecting was ridiculous, but who was he to say what Mike could spend money on? 

Life had been treating Sulley and Mike splendidly. The factory had been performing better than ever in terms of energy production and revenue. As a result, Mike and Sulley's paychecks bumped them up into the upper class. Their houses, or mansions, were an upgrade from the modest downtown apartment they used to share.

Sulley was already a celebrity as a top scarer, but his discovery of laugh power made him a household name worldwide. Yet, despite his high status and riches, he was still a down-to-earth guy. Mike, however, loved all the attention, TV appearances, and giving comedy lectures to his adoring fans.

"The Gargoyle is a better family car," Mike debated, "But the Phantom is so sleek and sporty. You know, this is too hard. I'll just get both!"

"Is Celia ok with this?" Sulley warned his friend without taking his eyes off his computer screen.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll discuss it,” Mike sighed and walked back to his desk. She'll talk some sense into me." He spun around in his chair anxiously, knowing his wife would not let him get both cars. 

Shortly after the switch to laugh power, Celia became a laugh floor supervisor and married Mike. The couple became proud parents of twin baby girls, Lucille and Desiree. Sulley met his wife, Amy, at an energy convention, and the two had been happily married for a little over a year. 

The spacious office fell quiet when Mike redirected his focus to his work tasks. The only noise came from Sulley's claws carefully tapping on the keyboard.

"Uh oh," we've got another rumor to deal with," frowned Sulley as he checked another unread email.

"Again?" Mike blurted and abruptly swiveled his seat to face Sulley. "What do those irritating journalists want now?" 

"They want to know if the energy from gigglewatts causes weakened immune systems for monsterlings.”

"Ridiculous!" spat Mike. "I thought we were done with all this! We've had multiple scientists and engineers study laugh power, and all of them agree that it is safe and effective! Forward that email to me! I'll give the press a piece of my mind!" 

"Mikey, cool down,” Sulley said calmly. “I'll answer them truthfully and reassure them that there is nothing to worry about. Besides, we're finally getting on the media's good side. We don't want to take a step backward!"

Although the company was doing exceptionally well, switching to a different energy source was a daunting task. Everyone's mindset had to readjust to this new reality. Mike and Sulley had to single-handedly reinvent Monsters, Inc. and train monsters to be funny. It wasn't easy, and many scarers, whom they used to call friends, quit. The factory barely made enough energy to keep the lights on each day. It was a daunting task, but they persevered. Eventually, the training paid off, and other monsters bravely applied to become jokesters. Slowly but surely, it became a little easier to fill their daily energy quota.

However, some monsters would rather live in the dark than use laugh energy. Businesses and citizens boycotted laugh energy even though it was more plentiful and less expensive than screams. The issue had also become political, with some leaders saying they would restore the scaring culture while others fought to expand the laugh energy movement. 

Despite the boycotts, more factories switched to laughs as their primary export, except Fear Co. The factory was the last stronghold for scare power. Johnny Worthington, the CEO, often spread false accusations about Monsters, Inc. and laugh power. Unfortunately, a lot of the media were still on his side, and Mike and Sulley frequently had to defend their beloved company.  

Even though Sulley would never support scaring again, he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. Many scarers lost their jobs because of him, and the debate fueled much contention around the world. Furthermore, though he strongly disliked the misinformation spread by Fear Co., he felt sorry that the once indestructible company was going downhill. 

On the other hand, Mike was giddy about the defeat of his old college nemesis. In his opinion, Worthington was a stuck-up, no-good monster who finally got what was coming for him. 

"I could really use some brain food," Sulley remarked after he sent his reply to the reporter. "Do you have any more bags of Cocoa Creepers, Mikey?"

"Yes, but they are mine!" snapped Mike protectively, holding his hand over his desk drawer. "Go get your own. Heck, you could probably buy the Coca Creeper factory and never run out again."

"True," shrugged Sulley. "But I should eat something healthy too, now and then. Amy wants me to take better care of myself. 

He raised an eyebrow as Mike clambered on top of his work desk. “What are you working on now?"

"Celia and her friend wanted to know the time slot their laugh floors are getting inspected," replied Mike, rummaging through a thick stack of mail. "I told her I would let her know. The schedule is around here somewhere!" 

All factories conducted annual laugh and scare floor evaluations to ensure everything was safe and working correctly. Connecting to the human world every day was risky business, and it was essential that the machinery functioned properly. Mike was proud of Celia for her streak of perfect marks on her floor, Laugh Floor F. Since Monsters Incorporated’s evaluations were coming up soon, all the floor supervisors were stressfully preparing for the big day. Failure could mean getting demoted or fired. 

Sulley stood up for a quick walking break. He grimaced when he felt crumbs from his favorite chocolate snack beneath his feet. 

"The floor is getting pretty gross," he told his green friend, "We should ask the janitors to take care of it."

"No, I'll do it," Mike said stubbornly. "I don't want him in here." 

"We don't have time to clean," Sulley reasoned. On top of all our other tasks, we need to work on the gala. I'd like to get home to see my wife at a decent hour for once!"

"Sulley! Think about it! He is going to come in here and install a bomb or something under our desks. And then BOOM!" Mike leaped out of his chair for effect. “I would never see my beloved wife or children again!”

"Mike, he's been here for several months, and nothing has happ—"

"He's plotting to kill us! He already did once! But you trust monsters too easily! That lizard boy is just waiting for the right moment to strike!”

Sulley growled in frustration. Every time Randall came up in a conversation, they would squabble. Hiring Randall had put a lot of tension on their friendship. 

A couple of years ago, Sulley felt horrible guilt after banishing his coworker. He didn't know where Randall was in the human world. Was he alive? Was he hurt? Should he even care? Sulley hadn't harmed another monster before, and he felt sick from the whole ordeal. Everyone told Sulley they would have done the same thing. Randall was a murderous psychopath, and Sulley had every right to defend himself, his best friend, and the little human girl. Still, why couldn't it have ended differently? 

When he heard Randall had returned, it felt like he could suddenly breathe easier. Even though Randall's older sister was furious with Sulley for tossing her brother into the human world, she was kind enough to give updates on Randall's condition during his rehab. When Sulley heard Randall was looking for a job, he talked to Mike about offering the much-needed janitorial position. Boy, was that something! They fought about accepting Randall for hours, and by the end, their friendship was barely hanging by a thread. In the end, Mike gave in and let Sulley send the application. 

Luckily, the scaly grump had managed to stay out of trouble, lurking in the shadows like a ghost that preferred to remain unseen. Heck, they had hardly caught a glimpse of him. Sometimes, Sulley would catch a flash of a purple, serpentine figure out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he did a double-take, it vanished into thin air, as if it had never been there at all. Mike, on the other hand, had been paranoid at first, refusing to walk alone through the factory. But despite his anxiety, Randall never unleashed his wraith on the cyclops. Even though Mike had started to feel more relaxed moving through the factory again, a nagging suspicion lingered in the back of his mind—he was certain Randall was up to something sinister.

Sulley could tell Mike was getting riled up and didn't want their friendship to take another blow just because their floor felt like a sandy beach. 

"How about this? I will just instruct Lou to come by himself and clean. Is that okay with you?" 

"Yes,” said Mike, calming down. 

"Alright then," said Sulley, stretching his arms, "I'll be back before we meet with the gala planning committee. I'm going to find some food and visit our little friend.” 

"Tell her hi for me!" grinned Mike.

Sulley nodded. "I will." 

Chapter Text

If there are any more confetti explosions, I'm going to strangle someone, Randall ranted, clenching his jaw. Who allowed confetti in the factory? I'd like to have a word and force them to clean up the stupid mess. How does this even make a kid laugh?

The laugh floor was buried beneath thousands of yellow, purple, and green confetti pieces, scattered like the remnants of a long-forgotten festival. Randall’s upper arms tightened around the broom with frustration, while his lower hands curled into tense fists. He swept with sharp, forceful strokes, pushing the vibrant mess into tidy piles. To some, the swirling mix of colors might have looked beautiful, but to Randall, it was nothing more than a reminder of the past. 

Yellow, green, and purple decorations filled the city next to where he was banished. He would watch with both fascination and disgust as the humans donned outrageous outfits and danced in bizarre parades in the spring. Overall, it was loud, chaotic, and messy. The food was decent, though, and he stole plenty of sugary cakes and—

"Wow, this is the fifth confetti mess we cleaned up this week! Monsters, Inc. is party central in Monstropolis!"

Randall snapped back to the present and turned to see Lou approaching him, skillfully dodging the heaps of confetti.

"Yeah, great party we're having," Randall said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, the big boss asked me to clean up their office. Man, lemme tell you, that place probably hadn't been cleaned in a long time! Those guys must be snacking constantly or something." Lou gestured to all of Randall's piles. "It was like this, but food crumbs!"

"And you did this by yourself? Shouldn't I have been there, too?" Randall asked, though he already had suspicions about why he wasn't included.

Lou scratched the back of his yellow head. "Uh, yeah. Well, I would have told you, but Mr. Sullivan only requested me." 

"Thank goodness. Could you grab that dustpan?”

"Yeah, man, I got you!" Lou said enthusiastically 

He grabbed a large duty tray from the janitor's cart and scooped the piles of confetti into the trash.

Sullivan and Wazowski probably thought I would place an explosive in their office or something, Randall guessed. I'm tempted to sneak a confetti bomb in there, though.

His mischievous side began to scheme how he would construct the confetti bomb and where he would install it when Lou interrupted his thoughts once again.

"So, Randall, do you have any plans for this weekend?"

Randall was quiet for a moment as he finished cleaning up the last of the confetti. His eyes shifted to the side in thought. No, no plans again. He'd probably hide in his room and find another show to watch. Or didn't Hailey mention that one of her ovens was acting up? He might take a look at it and see if he could help fix it. 

"Not really," replied Randall. Just the usual stuff, I guess."

"Sweet! So, this talk of parties and stuff reminded me of something. My buddies and I enjoy watching college football games. It's a good time, and even if you aren't a sports guy, you should come for the food! My pal, Ralphie, makes the best sliders full of—"

Randall had stiffened while Lou rambled on about his sports night. A hangout? With other monsters? He was currently trying to avoid everyone. When was the last time he had socialized? Or had fun? He refocused and caught the latter part of Lou's story.

"—and that's how the TV went flying out the window. It was a crazy night," Lou continued, shaking his head. “But I promise you it's always a good time! Whaddya say? I'll swing by your place, and we can walk to my friend's apartment together!"

Lou looked over at Randall with pleading blue eyes. 

"Um, nah, I'm good," said Randall, shaking his head. Honestly, he'd rather spend time with a broken oven. 

"C'mon, man! You need to get out of your sister's place for an evening! Spend time with the boys!”

"I don't know. I'm never in the mood for socializing.

"Look," begged Lou, "Just come for fifteen minutes, and if you're not having fun, you can leave." 

When the purple chameleon ignored him, Lou sighed and spoke more seriously. 

“It's just kinda hard to see you like this, Randall. I want to give you a chance to meet some cool monsters. I think it would be good for you. It's gonna be the highlight of your weekend, mark my words!" 

Randall groaned. Lou wasn't going to shut up about this, would he? And besides, maybe it would be good for him...

"I guess."

"Really?" Lou's sunny yellow face beamed. 

"I'll go for fifteen minutes. But then I'm leaving, you hear?" 

"Yes! Yes!" Lou jumped up and down. "Okay, awesome! We'll walk over together after work on Friday!"

"Sure," Randall sighed, tying off the garbage bag.

Ugh, what have I agreed to? he thought.

*

Randall reappeared at the bakery's back door and took the stairs to the apartment above. The familiar smell of bread and cakes welcomed him home. Thanks to his many years of practice, he could stay invisible for hours now, and he secretly rode the bus to and from work each day like a ghost. 

Tiredly, he opened the door and stepped into their warm apartment. It was stuffy from the late summer weather, but the lack of AC didn't bother his cold-blooded body. 

Framed photographs of both the living and the long-gone clung to the wood-plank walls alongside a few crayon drawings created by his nephew. The dark teal shag carpet, worn with time, sprawled across the living room floor, its fibers flattened by years of footsteps. Brightly colored furniture brought warmth to the room, starkly contrasting the neglected houseplants wilting by the windows, their leaves drooping like tired shoulders. The living room and kitchen sat right above the bakery, while three bedrooms and two bathrooms filled the upper level. It was a familiar, pleasant place, but living at his childhood home again felt odd.

"Randall! Is that you?" called his older sister from the kitchen. He heard plates being set down with a clatter before she rushed over to welcome him. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked with worry in her eyes.

"Fine," he replied flatly. Ever since his return from rehab, Hailey had been very concerned about his mental state. Although he knew she meant well, it was still irritating.

While Randall was a sulky raincloud, Hailey was a cheerful ray of sunshine. She was a light blue, bipedal monster with just one pair of arms. Purple iguana-like frills cascaded down her head, neck, and dark blue tail. Hailey inherited her mother's bright violet eyes and bipedal stance. Although she lacked the color-changing gene, Hailey had impressively sharp claws, which had always made Randall jealous. She was two years older than him, but Randall had aged considerably from banishment, which made her appear relatively younger in comparison. 

She reached out and carefully plucked something from his right shoulder. "Looks like you were at a party,” she joked and showed him the sneaky green piece of confetti. 

"I can never get rid of those stupid things,” he said, annoyed. “They show up everywhere!”

Hailey laughed, "It sounds like you had a long day. Let's get ready for dinner. Tonight, it's frozen lasagna!" 

"Thanks, I'll grab a plate."

"We are all eating as a family tonight," she demanded. “No eating in your room!”

"Hailey, I'm tired. I just want some peace and quiet," he whined, following her to the kitchen.

"You can be alone after dinner."

Why did she have to mother him so much? After returning from rehabilitation, he used to eat in his room, but recently, Hailey thought it would be good for him to bond and spend time with the rest of the family.

"Can you set these around the table, please?" asked Hailey, placing a glass in each of his hands. “The lasagna is just about done.”

Mumbling, he walked over to the short wooden table. Instead of chairs, multicolored pillows were spread out on the ground, providing much more comfort for their reptilian body types. He arranged the glasses around the table and could hear his nephew, Rex, begging his dad, Alan, in the living room for something. 

"Please, Dad! I'll never ask for anything again!" Rex pleaded. 

Rex was Hailey and Alan's pride and joy. He would soon turn eight years old and was making sure his parents knew what was on his birthday list. Rex resembled his uncle a lot but only had one frond. Whereas Randall was purple, Rex was orange and had red coloring on his tail, the tips of his fingers, and frond. His scales were more fish-like than reptilian, like his father's. He also had large green eyes. He was a bit shy and had been gradually getting used to his scary uncle. 

"I know you really want the FrightByte 5 Pro console, but it's too expensive,” responded Alan. "And I'd rather you spent your time doing something more productive than video games."

Alan Chang was an orange sea monster with yellow and blue fins on either side of his head, back, and tail. His short arms and legs were webbed, and his sharp cerulean eyes perched atop his head. His most distinctive feature was the feelers at the end of his gator-like snout, which resembled a mustache.

Alan and Hailey were high school sweethearts. Alan had known Randall since then and watched in horror as he grew increasingly villainous over the years. Alan was a great father and supportive husband, but he was also very protective, especially when Randall was near his son. Although he was against Randall staying with them, his wife persuaded him to let her brother be surrounded and supported by his only family. Randall sensed his cold demeanor and avoided him whenever possible.

"I can pay for part of the console with my allowance!" Rex tried to reason.

"Ten dollars isn't going to help much," said Alan, and besides—"

"Dinnertime!" sang Hailey in a loud and silly voice as she set the hot food on the table.

The family gathered and settled on the soft pillows, serving food on their plates.

"Our new Ghoulash Berry cupcakes were so popular today!" Hailey happily told Alan about the day at the bakery. 

"Yes! I was really glad about that," her husband agreed. “However, a few customers complained that it tasted too tart. We should experiment a little more with the flavor. And that reminds me! I need to order more pink food coloring." 

While Hailey managed the bakery, Alan loyally worked alongside her. Following Kori’s passing, they worked tirelessly to keep the business afloat. Their hard work was paying off as their bakery gradually gained popularity in Monstropolis, with many pastries selling out by the afternoon.

Hailey nodded. "Yes, I think I need to add more syrup to the mixture." She took a sip of water and looked over at Rex. "How was school today, sweetie?" Hailey asked her son, who was daydreaming about video games.

"Hmm? Eh, it was okay," Rex answered. "Except I have to do another project."

"Oh? What is it this time?" questioned Hailey. 

"We’re learning about traditions in the human world and had to pick one of their holidays to present to the class.” 

At the mention of the human world, Randall perked up.

"I chose Mardi Gras because Randall actually went there a few times!" Rex said proudly. He looked at his uncle a bit nervously. "Um, would you be able to help me?"

Hailey butted into the conversation before Alan or her brother could say anything. "Great idea, Rex! I’m sure Randall has a ton of firsthand experience he could share with you! And as you know, the bakery keeps your father and me too busy to help out much.” She gave a warning glance at her husband, who was obviously against the idea

Randall ignored Alan's icy glare and groaned internally. He and Rex were still getting used to one another. However, even though Randall wasn’t good with kids, Rex was relatively well-behaved. 

This could help Hailey out , he thought. Hailey and Alan weren't charging him rent, so this could be a way to repay them and finally get on Alan's good side. 

"Yeah, sure," Randall told his nephew while grabbing a second helping of lasagna.  

Hailey and Rex brightened up. "Thanks, Randall!" Hailey smiled. "Anyway, how was your day today at the factory?"

"Gross and boring as usual. And get this, another confetti cannon exploded."

"Cool!" exclaimed Rex.

"Not unless you have to clean it up!" 

"That explains the confetti I found on you! What else happened?" Hailey probed.

Randall hesitated. Should he tell her about Lou's invitation?

"Uh, well, you know Lou Dooley, my coworker? He invited me to a guy's night."

Hailey gasped loudly, startling Alan, who dropped his fork.

"Where? When? With how many monsters?" she sputtered, trying to ask all the questions at once.

Geez, what else did I expect? thought Randall

"I'm heading to Lou's friend’s place after work on Friday, but I’ll only stay for a few minutes before leaving," Randall said, attempting to temper Hailey’s enthusiasm. 

"No, no, no! Try to stay for at least a couple of hours!" she begged. "This is a good opportunity for you to make good friends, take a break from work, and have a good time!"

Randall wasn't sure he could handle being there for more than a few minutes. Meeting and conversing with all those strangers sounded exhausting and overwhelming. He hadn’t attended a hangout in years. What if he felt awkward or just didn't fit in? His self-confidence was already so low, and he didn't want to feel worse.

"I...I just don't know if I can handle being there that long," he said quietly, hating how vulnerable he felt. 

Hailey suddenly felt guilty. Perhaps she was pushing him out of his comfort zone too much. After the entire ordeal with the Scream Extractor, banishment, and rehab, the poor guy just wanted some stability and serenity for once.

"I understand, Randall. I'm sorry about my excitement, but I was so happy for you! Do whatever makes you feel comfortable,” she apologized. 

Later that evening, Randall curled up on his plush purple bed, and stared blankly at the wall. Even though the thought of the upcoming activity twisted in his stomach like a tightened knot, he couldn't deny that it might be good for him. Lou was the only person at work who even remotely felt like a friend, and the weight of loneliness pressed against his chest like an anchor. Randall desperately wanted to feel something other than this hollow ache.

Maybe I will make a friend, he thought, hopefully.

Chapter Text

"So anyway, I grabbed a bunch of rubber chickens and whoopee cushions from the prop bin and placed them under all their chairs. I had to skedaddle out of there before they came back, but man, I wish I could have seen their faces, especially Anderson's, haha!"

Lou excitedly told Randall all about his latest prank on MIFT (Monsters, Inc. Facilities Team). The janitorial team, MIGHT, and the facilities team, MIFT, had an ongoing feud.  MIGHT disliked MIFT for leaving messes after fixing the factory. MIFT loathed MIGHT for accidentally breaking things when trying to clean them. Lou helped fuel the rivalry by pulling pranks on the MIFTers. Randall, however, stayed away from the drama since he had already been in enough trouble. 

The two monsters made their way downtown toward Lou's friend's apartment. The city was bathed in the golden glow of a warm summer evening. The setting sun painted the buildings in honeyed light while deep purple shadows stretched across the streets like ink bleeding into paper. Leaves, clinging stubbornly to thorny, wart-covered branches, rustled in the breeze. With so few monsters around, Randall felt no need to disappear—no wary glances, no reason to fade. 

"How many monsters will there be tonight?" Randall asked Lou, ignoring his story about pranking MIFT.

"Oh! Not entirely sure. Last time, there were about ten of us, so I'm guessing there will be about that many again."

Randall's pulse quickened a little. "Um, so you think they will know about me? And my past?"

"Who hasn't?" Lou chuckled. "Hey, you shouldn't worry about that! Some of my buddies have been in rough patches throughout their lives. They've done things they're not proud of, but have worked hard to redeem themselves! Like you! This will be a safe space!" He said, trying to soothe the anxious lizard.

If I make a good impression, I could turn my reputation around, Randall reasoned. He fell silent again, deep in introspection, as Lou rambled about how he met his friends. 

" — and that's why he has a scar right there. I feel bad for accidentally breathing fire on him, but he saved me from choking to death! Oh hey, we are almost there!"

"Hm?" said Randall, who hadn't been paying attention to what Lou was talking about or where they had walked.

"This is a shortcut! C'mon!" Lou exclaimed and strode into a dark and dirty alleyway. 

Randall grimaced as he stepped over a murky puddle. Did his friend live in a dumpster or a cardboard box?

They continued down Lou's sketchy shortcut, but Randall suddenly felt something he hadn't felt since banishment. 

Trepidation. The feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

Randall knew this feeling well—the prickling unease that crawled up his spine like a spider skittering on his scales. It was the same trepidation he had felt just before gator hunters emerged from the misty swamps. The same tension that gripped him when the air grew thick and still just before a storm cracked the sky open. It was an instinct, a warning, one he had learned never to ignore.

Randall peered around the shady alleyway. "Lou!" he hissed in a stern whisper.

"Yeah?"

"We need to get out of here! Take the long way. I have a bad feeling about this!"

"Whoa, Randall," Lou tried to reason, "I've come through here many times without a scratch. We're fine! You're probably hearing feral horned cats or rats." 

Randall's scales turned semi-transparent. "No! Something is wrong! I think—AH!" 

Something hit the back of his head, and his face hit the stony pavement.

*

"Randall? Randall!" 

Randall started to stir at the sound of Lou's voice. Was he at the hangout? What happened? Why couldn't he move?

Dazed, Randall slowly opened his eyes and blinked a few times, his fronds lifelessly draped on his head. The yellow blurred figure of Lou and a plethora of other colorful figures were standing around him. 

"Wakey wakey!" sang Lou, "Time to get up!"

"Lou, are these your friends?" Randall groaned, still coming to his senses. 

He made an effort to stand up but could barely move. The back of his head ached. Shiny, metal handcuffs were around all eight of his limbs, and the sight of them shocked him.

"Yeah! Meet my buddies!" Lou gestured to the gang of monsters that circled Randall. The crowd was diverse and frightening, with large teeth, slime, spikes, and claws.

All of Randall's hope and trust in his coworker instantly evaporated. "You tricked me! What is this? Where are we?" Randall growled, baring his sharp teeth and trying to wriggle his thin limbs out of the cuffs. His sudden outburst caused several monsters, including Lou, to step back. 

Lou held up his hands apologetically. "Look, I know this looks bad," he started to say.

"Ya think?" Randall exclaimed, his voice rising.

"But we've been given an opportunity to revolutionize the monster world!" Lou insisted.

Randall scoffed and readjusted his position to lie more comfortably on the cold, hard floor. He had said nearly the same thing nearly five years ago. "What kind of opportunity are you even talking about?"

"The opportunity to crush Monsters, Inc. once and for all, of course," a deep, confident voice responded. 

Randall narrowed his green eyes as the voice's owner stepped into view. A large, smoky purple monster with enormous bull horns towered over him. He wore a deep red blazer and a clean, white dress shirt over his stocky body. 

" Worthington ," snarled Randall.

The CEO of Fear Co. smiled down at him, teeth gleaming.

The two had known each other for over two decades but hadn't talked much since college. Randall used to spot him at the annual Scream Energy convention, but they tended to avoid each other. When Randall was young, he saw Worthington as a superhero, someone to admire and respect. But Randall didn't take too long to see him for what he truly was: a villain.

"Boggs, it's good to see you again," Worthington acknowledged, clasping his hands behind his broad back.

"Can't say the same about you," Randall spat.

"Now, now, how about we have a civil conversation? Joann, Ned, could you please help him up?" Worthington ordered. 

A black scorpion-tailed monster and a red toad-like monster grabbed Randall's first pair of arms and hoisted him up so he could stand and find his footing. 

Once he stood, Worthington gave a dismissive wave, sending the two away and leaving Randall alone in the center of the crowd again. He straightened his posture, holding himself as dignifiedly as possible, though his tail betrayed him, twitching with nervous energy like a live wire. Now that he was upright, he could take in the room more clearly. 

It was stark and colorless, the concrete walls stretching up like the inside of a fortress, cold and unwelcoming. The glossy tile floor reflected the harsh overhead lights, making the space feel even more sterile. Cork boards clung to the walls, littered with pinned notes and diagrams, while workstations and computers sat neatly arranged.

"What do you want?" demanded Randall.

"I'm offering you a job." 

"A job? This could've been an email!" snarled Randall. "What's with all the secrecy? What are you actually after?"

"Yes, a job," said Worthington, unfazed by the lizard's outburst. "And one better than janitorial work. With better pay, too, and best of all, the chance to save the world."

Randall glared at him, waiting for him to get to the point.

The large, horned CEO cleared his voice and strolled around Randall. "As you know, laugh energy is outpacing screams. Since it is becoming more plentiful, it is also more affordable. Even though many businesses are rightfully boycotting laughs, more and more have given in to this...this appalling energy source!"

Worthington paused, his hands balling into fists. "Fear, Co. will never submit to laugh power and make their employees into ridiculous goofballs! My father founded this company to create and hire the most terrifying monsters humans have ever seen! Monsters were born to be scary! Going against scare power is going against our nature!" 

The monsters in the room eagerly nodded their heads, and a few applauded. Randall agreed too but hid his emotions. 

"However, with the way things are going, Fear Co. is going to face the possibility of shutting down. We need a different approach to protest against laughs and keep scaring from becoming extinct."

He pulled out a worn leather journal from his crimson suit. "My father was one of the most brilliant monsters of all time. He was one of the best scarers of his day and built Fear Co., one of the largest factories in the world, from the ground up. He also invented and improved many of the systems used today, such as the automated door stations. Monsters used to set up all the doors by hand, you know." 

He carefully flipped through the worn pages. "This is full of all his visions. He could build anything. But there was one invention he could never figure out. The Master Door."

Worthington turned the journal to face Randall and eagerly showed him the plans for the elusive invention. 

"Uh-huh, sure, whatever," scoffed Randall as he glanced at the drawings and notes. Without his reading glasses, he couldn't decipher what was written on the page. "Can I go home now?" 

Worthington snapped the journal shut. "No!" he said, irritated. "You are here because I want you to build what my father couldn't! I always knew you were smart, but that whole thing with your Scream Extractor blew my mind! If you could build something like that, you could figure out how to build the Master Door!" 

 "It's true I designed it and everything, but it probably didn't even work! Find a different engineer or something. I'm not your guy." 

"I know some of the best engineers in the world! Yet I find you to be the most clever of all. And as you know, most engineers can't turn invisible. That is why I need you for this project." 

Randall felt flattered for a brief moment but quickly dismissed the emotion. His acidic eyes hardened. 

Worthington added, "And if I haven't convinced you enough, consider your participation in the project as an apology." 

"Excuse me?"

"If you carried out your plan correctly, Sullivan wouldn't have met that little human girl and discovered laugh power. So, it is your fault that scarers are out of work and factories are shutting down."

Randall caught sight of a few in the crowd, folding their arms tightly across their chests, their eyes narrowing into sharp, unspoken accusations as they glared at him.

"I carried out my plan as best as I knew how! There are simply some things I didn't have control over! Sullivan should have returned that little brat to her door right away instead of bonding with her! You can't pin the blame all on me!" Randall reasoned.

"Yes, but you were the one to get the ball rolling. And now look what has happened!" 

Randall sighed. Truth be told, he did feel guilty about the world-changing consequences that emerged due to the Scream Extractor. 

"What even is the Master Door?" demanded Randall, wanting to redirect the conversation away from himself. 

"Glad you asked," said Worthington, straightening his jacket. "It is the door of doors. It can access any human's room. Think of all the warehouse and maintenance costs to organize the millions of doors in our facilities. With Master Doors, you'd only need a few of them. But that's not the best part! Not only can the Master Door access anywhere in the human world, it can also access anywhere in our world." 

"Impossible!" Randall exclaimed. "No wonder your old man couldn't figure this out." 

"I know it seems impossible, but with the combination of my dad's notes and your mind, I believe this will work!" Worthington said enthusiastically.

"Let's say it miraculously worked; how would this kill laugh power?" challenged Randall.

"Besides saving millions of dollars on door maintenance, gathering energy will be faster and more efficient with just one door in place. But more importantly, the Master Door can access restricted rooms. Think of all the places we could raid and sabotage. Places that use laugh power. Places like Monsters, Inc.," Worthington said darkly, "An invisible monster paired with a Master Door would be a powerful combination."

This invention would get out of control, thought Randall. What if it were used to access secure government areas or break inmates out of prisons? Or used for kidnapping? 

"I won't build this. I'm done with schemes," Randall stated, "Like I said, find someone else to help you with your crazy idea. Or better yet, don't build it at all." 

"What happened to your ambition? What happened to getting revenge on Sullivan and Wazowski?" exclaimed Worthington. “While they bask in stardom, you're stuck cleaning their toilets! You've become an empty shell of yourself! Is this monster in front of me truly Randall Boggs?"

"Spending over two years alone in a swamp will do that to you," mumbled Randall. 

Disappointed, Worthington shook his head. "I didn't think it would come to this. You see, I thought you would have accepted my plan in a heartbeat! However, you leave me no choice but to force you to work on this project." 

"I'd like to see you try!" roared Randall, trying to take a step towards Worthington. "I'm no longer that naive young monster who used to take orders from you! Just leave me alone, you idiot!"

Lou and his "buddies" watched silently and wide-eyed as the suspense unfolded. Some were poised to grab Randall just in case he broke free from his restraints and attacked their leader.

Instead of yelling back, Worthington simply folded his arms in defiance and gave Randall a cold smile. 

"You know, Boggs," he said calmly yet chillingly. "There's a cute little bakery with the best cupcakes in Monstropolis. I believe it is called Kori's Cavern. It would be a shame if something happened to it."

Randall's fronds rose in alarm. "You wouldn't dare, you sick — "

"If you refuse to work for us or inform anyone else about our confidential operation, the bakery and your family will be eliminated. Don't think you can turn invisible and scamper to the police station. I've got eyes and ears everywhere ."

Randall balled his four fists in anger and gritted his teeth, holding back a mouthful of expletives. How dare he threaten his family! If those cuffs weren't restraining him, he'd rip Worthington's stupid horns off! He growled threateningly.

"Now, how about we discuss your payment?" Worthington said coolly and took out a check from one of his pockets. "I'm giving you a third of the payment upfront. You'll get the rest when you're finished."

He's just going to kill me when I'm no longer useful, assumed Randall. He knew how villains' minds worked. 

The CEO tried showing Randall the amount on the check, but he saw only blurry marks. "You're going to have to read it to me; I don't have my glasses," Randall said sharply.

"Ah, yes! Of course," said Worthington politely. 

When he read the amount, it was no small number. Randall had never received a check that large in his life. And it was only a third of the whole amount! But Randall knew he would never receive the rest of the money, so he bargained for what he could.

"That's it? C'mon, with all the trouble you're putting me through, I deserve at least half now." Randall challenged, staring Worthington down.

Worthington ripped the check and stuffed the pieces in his pockets. "Fine!" 

"And you will order one of your underlings to bring me a latte every time I arrive." 

"Oh, for the love of…Okay! You'll get your lattes." Worthington said, exasperated, pinching his brow.

"Well then," Randall sneered, "When do I start?"

*

Randall arrived home late, still in shock from the events of the evening and what he was forced to create. 

Hailey jumped off the couch as soon as he entered. "So, how did it go? You stayed a lot longer than I expected!"

We're all going to die! he screamed in his head. Randall pushed the thought to the back of his mind and masked his fear with an annoyed expression.

"Yeah, yeah, it was fine. The guys were all right. I'm going back to hang out with them on Tuesday."

"Oh, how wonderful!" laughed Hailey. "I'm so glad this worked out!"

"So wonderful..." mumbled Randall, trying not to sound sarcastic. 

"Hey, I know this must have been tough," his sister said softly, "But I'm really proud of you for going." She reassuringly touched Randall's shoulder before heading upstairs. "Goodnight!"

“Night."

Randall lingered in the doorway, his gaze drifting across the familiar walls of his childhood home. Every corner carried memories woven into the very foundation his mother had worked tirelessly to build. She had poured her heart into her business, carving out a safe haven for her children, and Hailey had carried that torch, ensuring the house and bakery remained a place of warmth and refuge. The thought of seeing it all reduced to ruin was unbearable. But more than the home itself, he couldn't stomach the idea of Hailey getting hurt. She meant more to him than anyone else in the world. And the rest of her family deserved protection too—even that stuck-up jerk, Alan.

He dragged himself toward his room, overwhelmed by the impossible task ahead and the danger posed to his family.

What was he going to do?

Chapter Text

Randall adjusted his glasses, the faint smudge on the lens momentarily catching his eye before he refocused on the notes scribbled across the whiteboard. His gaze swept over the chaotic scrawl, searching for a breakthrough, but frustration gnawed at him. Randall had spent two weeks with Worthington’s team, and he had little to show for it. 

With a quiet sigh, Randall tilted back his cup, drinking the last few drops of his latte before tossing it into the trash. He made his way toward Worthington, who was casually leaning against one of the many work desks, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

"Thoughts?" asked Worthington. 

"The latte was too cold. Tell your minions to rush it over here faster next time." 

"Not that!" Worthington snapped, his voice sharp, and pointed a clawed finger at the whiteboard. "That! What do you think of our progress?" 

Randall smirked. Sure, he was here against his will, but he enjoyed annoying his nemesis.

"What progress? So far, our designs are just glorified versions of door stations. These designs don't have the potential to access more than one portal," Randall stated. "How about we just upgrade the existing door stations instead? Fear Co.'s stations appear outdated, which also applies to Monsters, Inc. I'm sure you can use that money to sell the improved stations and keep Fear, Co. afloat for a while longer. Better yet, they're possible to build." 

"No!" declared Worthington stubbornly. “We are building the Master Door. And it is possible! We just need to think outside the box." 

"Whatever," Randall shrugged. I need to take another look at your dad's notes."

"Be quick about it. I need to get going."

Worthington was highly protective of the journal and made it clear that he had to always be near it. Whether it was a sentimental thing or fear that Randall would steal it as evidence to show the authorities was anyone's guess.

"I need it for more than a few minutes. If you want this thing ready in a few months, leave it here," Randall reasoned.

Worthington wanted to argue back, but admitted Randall made a good point. The project needed to be finished in late fall, which wasn't very far away.

"Fine. But I'm ordering someone to supervise you. Dooley! Come here!" waved Worthington at the yellow monster.

"Yeah, boss?" questioned Lou, slithering over.

"Keep an eye on my journal. If anything happens, you'll be held responsible." 

"Yessir!"

Randall rolled his eyes and snatched the journal from Worthington’s outstretched hand. The bull-horned monster lingered momentarily, his sharp glare issuing one final warning before striding out of the room. As the door clicked shut, Randall exhaled and set the precious book on the nearest work desk. But even as he focused on the text, he could feel Lou’s piercing gaze tracking his every move.

Lou, Randall had come to realize, was just meant to be his babysitter. He'd gotten the janitorial position to slowly gain Randall's trust and lure him into Worthington's clutches like a well-placed chess piece. Now, Lou's assignment was to ensure Randall didn't tattle to anyone about the Master Door. Though Randall hadn't exactly seen Lou as a friend, he felt hurt by his coworker’s betrayal and acted much colder towards him. Lou, however, seemed unbothered by Randall's prickly attitude and maintained his upbeat, chatty personality. 

For several days, Randall tried to figure out how to get help without alerting Worthington and his goons. Maybe he could write a tip and drop it off at the police station while invisible? Or give them a call? However, he was paranoid that some cops might be on Worthington's side, and he had no evidence to show the authorities. Thanks to his criminal record, they might assume he was lying. Heck, he didn't even know where the lair was! 

Worthington likely believed that the sneaky invisi-lizard would try to reveal the Master Door plot and soil the Fear Co.'s CEO's reputation. As a result, Worthington had an elaborate system in place to ensure Randall had no idea where the lair was. And the entire process was a pain in the tail.

Every other day after work, Lou would lead Randall to a random spot outside the factory. Within minutes, an old, battered Rotdog food truck rumbled up to meet them.

Before stepping inside, the henchmonsters would give him a thorough once-over, checking for hidden mics or tracking devices. Only after the inspection would Randall be ushered into the truck’s windowless back. The outside of the vehicle looked like something destined for the scrapyard, but inside, it was sleek and packed with advanced technology. Randall suspected it was designed to avoid detection. 

When the truck doors finally reopened about fifteen or twenty minutes later, he would stumble out with motion sickness into a dark, mildewy tunnel. Whether it was an abandoned sewer or a long-forgotten maintenance tunnel, Randall wasn’t sure. He would then approach the entrance to the lair through a nondescript metal door with Lou and the others.

After his shift working on the Master Door, the cycle repeated. Another inspection. Another nauseous ride in the back of the truck. And finally, another abrupt drop-off near his home.

Randall tried to do some detective work of his own to figure out the mysterious location. Perhaps he was in the bowels of Fear Co.? That was about a twenty-minute drive from Monsters, Inc.

He tried several times to coax the location out of Lou at work, but Lou had none of that. His silly attitude would suddenly grow serious.

"We can't discuss anything about the project outside the lab," he'd warn in a harsh whisper, " He has eyes and ears all over the place, and they are always watching. Don't want to get in more trouble, do you?" 

Hailey noticed Randall's anxious attitude. One day, he had been crawling around the living room looking for hidden mics or cameras when Hailey interrupted his search with a puzzled expression. 

"Are you looking for something?" 

"Yeah, uh, my glasses," he had lied. 

"Oh! I'll help you look!"

"No, no, I've got it."

"It's no trouble! Besides, having someone with 20/20 vision will help you find your glasses faster!" She winked.

Five minutes later, she found his glasses on his nightstand. From then on, Randall made sure to be invisible when searching their home and bakery. 

I'll check inside the light fixtures next , Randall planned as he turned to another page in the journal. 

"Jeez, I don't understand a thing written on these pages!" piped up Lou over Randall's shoulder. 

Randall ignored him.

"I was never the engineer type," Lou continued unprompted, "I can wrench nuts and hammer nails, but this kind of stuff goes over my head! I'm much better at cleaning, but I'll have you know I was one of the best scare assistants at my last job!" 

"Where?" asked Randall. Lou never mentioned his previous job before.

"I was at Scream Industries! My scarer and I had the best scare totals in the entire factory! Of course, they weren't as high as yours, but still worth bragging about. We were a great team." 

Lou's smile drooped. "Then, when the laugh revolution happened, my scarer decided to give in and become a jokester. I was against laugh power, though. Our friendship fell apart pretty quickly," he said sadly. "I found work at Fear Co. and eventually got noticed by Mr. Worthington. 

He asked me to join the Master Door project, and that's what I've been up to ever since."

Lou perked back up. "Anyway, that's my little story! Hey, I'd like to know more about yours! How long have you and Mr. Worthington known each other? How did you meet?" 

"Enough! I'm trying to concentrate here!" Randall groaned, folding his arms and glowering at Lou. We have an impossible deadline and haven't even finished step one yet!"

"All right, all right!" Lou said, holding up his hands in surrender. "We can talk about this later."

Let's not . Randall removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes stressfully. 

"What can't you figure out?" asked Lou, pointing to the journal.

Randall flicked his tail with irritation. This guy won’t shut up!

"Everything! I keep telling Worthington it's impossible to create a door that connects to every entrance in the universe! He won't listen to me. This will just end up as a flaming pile of garbage," seethed Randall.

He flipped through the pages and pointed out some of the designs for the Master Door. Worthington's father was a prolific artist, and there were many detailed, beautiful, and complex diagrams of how the door could be constructed.

"His father was having the same problem as me. What would the Master Door even look like? What material would it be made of? What design? And what size? I don't even know where to start!"

"I hadn't thought of it that way," admitted Lou, "I just imagined it as a big fancy door. But what door represents every single door in this world and the human one?"

"Nothing does!" snarled Randall. Frustrated, he shut the journal.

"Does it have to look like a door?"

"What do you mean?" scoffed Randall, shaking his head. "Of course, it needs to look like—"

He paused. Lou may be on to something.

Maybe the door of all doors wasn't a door at all. Or one with knobs, hinges, and panels...what if it was just the portal itself? 

"Bring me a notebook!" he ordered his babysitter.

"But I'm supposed to be watching y—"

"YOU!" Randall yelled at a passing monster.

The monster jumped and gawked at him with a dozen wide eyes.

"Bring me a notebook and a pen, would ya?" Randall pointed at another monster. "And you! Turn up the heat on the thermostat. It's freezing in here; I can't think when it's cold."

Randall grinned as the monsters excitedly scuttled off to do his bidding. How he had missed shouting orders.

"Did you figure something out?" asked Lou gleefully.

"Maybe. You see, each portal is anchored to a door. But if you remove the physical door, the portal isn't anchored to a specific entrance. It may be assigned anywhere. And without the restraints of a physical door, it could become any size," Randall schemed while pacing back and forth.

"What does a portal look like without its door? Can you even separate the two?" questioned Lou eagerly.

Randall seized the notebook brought to him by the multi-eyed monster. "I don't know, but we're off to a start!" 

He immediately began writing down his epiphany and making rough drawings while Lou watched in wonder. 

*

This project might help me , Randall considered a few days after his breakthrough.

 Currently,  he was on a mission to the store to buy a birthday gift for Rex. To disguise himself from passersby, he had covered himself with vibrant blue and yellow scales. Additionally, his bottom pair of arms and fronds were invisible to stay even more inconspicuous.

Perhaps monsters would admire him again if he succeeded in building the Master Door. And the technology could make him wealthy. He should try to become a better partner with Worthington, rather than an enemy. Together, they could rub their success in Sullivan's and Wazowski's faces and eliminate their ridiculous laugh power. He'd show them!

Wait a minute , thought Randall, and stopped walking. 

He caught himself thinking about world domination again. He hadn't had those since he was banished. Ever since Randall returned, he only wanted to disappear from the public eye and fade from everyone's memory. But now those plans were no longer appealing.

Randall sat down on a park bench to ponder. The rewards and the chance to get back at the two monsters who banished him were so tempting. 

Randall shook himself out of his daydream. Had he learned nothing? Would he truly want to go through everything again if authorities caught wind of the Master Door project? Hailey and her family had given him a second chance. He doubted they would give him a third, especially Alan. They were his only family. He knew no one else would take him in. And what if the punishment was banishment again? He couldn't bear being alone, barely surviving in the human world again. 

Randall's pulse raced as the possibility of being re-banished crept into his mind. His chest tightened, but he forced himself to take deep breaths, the calming technique his therapist had taught him during rehab. With each breath, he tried to ground himself in the present, willing the spiraling thoughts to slow down.

Why was I born this way? he wondered glumly as he watched a monster throw a Frisbee at their furry pet. Why did his smarts and abilities have to attract villainous company and entice him to do evil things? His mother would be so disappointed. No matter what he did, it seemed like he would always be taken advantage of for another scheme. If he finished the Master Door, what if another desperate CEO approached him?

A gust of wind blew through the park and ruffled his invisible fronds. 

No! No more schemes! I've had enough of them! I will figure out how to find the lair, destroy the Master Door, and throw Worthington and his buddies in jail. I want to do something else with my life. Walk around town without hiding from everyone. Become a new monster. 

The idea energized him, and he felt a bit lighter. Randall resumed his journey to the store with more confidence. Though he wasn't quite ready to drop his disguise just yet. 

*

A few days later, Randall sat at the kitchen table with Rex and helped him with his school project about the human holiday, Mardi Gras. They had the apartment to themselves since Hailey and Alan were working together in the bakery and preparing a large catering order the following day. Sweet smells from the bakery drifted into the apartment, making Randall's stomach growl. 

I hope Hailey brings a few extras of whatever they are making , Randall wished as he observed Rex scribble in his notebook. 

The young monster excitedly asked Randall nearly a thousand questions about the unique human festival. 

"What did the floats look like?" Rex said, looking at his uncle.

"Big, sparkly, and downright bizarre. Each float had its own crazy theme. Some looked like giant alligators with snapping jaws, and others were covered in creepy clowns or shaped like massive boats. Sometimes, bursts of confetti would explode into the air, or jets of fire would shoot up. At night, the floats lit up in every color of the rainbow. The humans riding them wore the strangest costumes, like feathered masks, shimmering capes, and outfits covered in sequins. Oh, and for some reason, they threw out a million bead necklaces into the crowd.

"Whoa! What did the necklaces look like? Did you ever collect any?" asked Rex, his eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Nah, I didn't want anyone to see me. Would've got some unwanted attention if people saw floating necklaces. And they were made out of cheap plastic purple, green, and gold beads."

"Why those colors?"

"They represent Mardi Gras. Gold meant power, green represented justice, and purple symbolized faith."

Randall narrowed his eyes in thought. "Or was it green that represented faith? Eh, something like that."

The young monster eagerly noted Randall's descriptions and gazed at his writing dreamily. "If it were safe," he said, "I wish we could go to Mardi Gras together! We could dress up, watch the parades, and collect a ton of beads! It would be so cool!"

Randall stayed silent, unsure of what to say. 

"I know!" Rex continued, "Let's start Mardi Gras here!"

"No, we have our own holidays here. And I'm no good at throwing parties," Randall tried to reason.

Rex frowned. It was true. His uncle was terrible at parties.

Not wanting to dampen Rex's spirits, Randall decided to reveal his big surprise.

"Speaking of parties, you remember that gift I gave you for your birthday?" 

"The coloring book?"

"Yeah," Randall nodded, "But I actually got you a different present. That one was just for show. You need to keep this a secret, okay? Especially from your dad."

"Okay!" Rex exclaimed, bouncing on his pillowy seat. "What is it?"

"Stay here," Randall instructed, and fetched a box hidden under his bed.

The young monster could hardly contain himself when he saw the cardboard box his uncle brought back to the table. 

"Here ya go. Open it up."

Rex didn't need to be told twice and flung the box open. He let out a squeal once he saw the contents.

Randall smiled proudly when he saw the astonishment on his nephew's face.

"It's the FrightByte 5 Pro console!" Rex gasped as he carefully took it out of the box. "And the game I wanted to play too! No way! How did you get this? I thought it was too expensive!"

"I, uh, got a raise," Randall lied. "But don't tell anyone!" 

"I won't! I won't! This is the best gift ever!" grinned Rex. He ran to Randall's side to hug him. "Can we set it up now? Please, please, please?"

Randall flinched at the hug and awkwardly patted Rex's head.

"Sure, kid. Let's set it up in my room so your parents don't notice."

Randall made Rex sit on the bed while he hooked up the console. The kid was eager to help, but Randall wanted him out of the way. 

Soon, they were both tapping away at their controllers. Randall kept the volume low so they could hear when Rex's parents returned. 

Their characters leaped across pixelated landscapes, venturing through neon-lit cities and eerie wastelands on-screen. Randall found satisfaction in building fortresses and gear while Rex happily scavenged for supplies and battled mutant humans.

Rex perked up. "I heard someone opening the door!" 

"Okay, I'll quickly save the game. We'll tell your parents we were watching a show!" 

"Can we do this every night, please?" pleaded Rex.

"No, you have homework, and I hang out with my...friends every other day."

Rex sighed in disappointment. "Aw, well, hopefully we can play again soon! Thanks, Randall!"

He bolted out of his room, his excited footsteps echoing down the hall as he rushed to greet his parents. Randall silently unhooked the video game console and tucked it out of sight. Guilt crept over him like a heavy fog. Their cheerful voices filled the house, unaware of the looming danger threatening their lives and home. Randall clenched his jaw. Now that the Master Door had a real chance of working, he had to act fast. He couldn’t let it be completed. He needed help, and he needed it now.

Who should I go to for help? What would Worthington and his goons not expect?

Chapter Text

“Erica, you have nothing to worry about! Your laugh floor is always so tidy and organized. I know you'll pass the inspections without any problems!” Celia assured her friend. “When I first became a floor supervisor, the inspections scared me to death, too! But it’s really not that bad!”

Celia Mae Wazowski and her friend, Erica Howell, hurried through the vast, industrial-gray halls of the factory to their respective laugh floors. The air buzzed with nervous energy. Today was Monsters, Inc.'s annual inspection. Every floor had to pass a rigorous evaluation by a team of sharp-eyed officials, ensuring the facility was safe and fully compliant for interacting with the human world.

Floor supervisors were graded on a pass-or-fail basis. One mistake, one overlooked detail, could have severe consequences. Failure usually meant demotion or even the possibility of firing. A disorganized floor was dangerous, so the inspectors took their job seriously. 

Erica flipped through the pages on her trusty clipboard, double-checking her completed to-do list.

"I've gone through my list nearly a hundred times! I'm just worried I forgot a task and will fail my inspection for something stupid!" Erica worried.

Erica was a white-scaled monster in her late thirties. She had a long snout and a short, ridged frill that jutted from the back of her skull. Pink diamond-shaped designs adorned her head, limbs, back, and tail. Her unique, fan-like tail trailed behind her with every step while her cloven hooves clicked rhythmically against the floor. She wore a crisp white blouse and black skirt to appear more professional.

"My floor is one of the first to be inspected today. If you want, you could come over in a few hours and watch the process. Besides, you could learn from my example! Floor F is the best in the whole factory, you know! We've received the top score for the past four years!" Celia teased.

"Oh yeah? Well, this year, Floor G will break your streak!" Erica laughed, "But yes, I'd love to take you up on your offer and see firsthand how the inspection process works."

"Great! I'll see you a half hour before lunch!" smiled Celia, carefully placing a headset over the purple snakes on her head. She gave Erica a friendly wave before entering Floor F.

Erica waved back and continued to Floor G. Nothing will go wrong , she consoled herself as she took some calming breaths.

Stepping onto her floor, Erica surveyed the scene as the jokesters' assistants bustled around like clockwork, meticulously examining their workstations for flaws, prepping laugh canisters, and organizing stacks of neatly labeled files. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting sharp lines across the sleek, metallic surfaces and emphasizing the room’s spotless sheen. Erica set her clipboard down, adjusted her headset, and straightened her blouse, ready to oversee the day’s work.

"Alright, everyone, get your doors in place!" she instructed over the loudspeaker, "The jokesters are arriving at any moment."

The assistants hurried to perfect their stations, making last-minute adjustments before stepping back into position with practiced precision. As they lined up beside their workstations, their movements were almost ceremonial. Erica observed with pride as the jokesters assembled on the gleaming floor. Once everyone had a moment to compose themselves, she began the countdown.

"We are on in seven...six...five...four...three...two...one..."

A horn blared on the floor, signaling the start of the workday. The jokesters rushed into the human world with playing cards, squishy rubber chickens, and other silly props. Soon, laughter from the human children and the chimes from the filled-up canisters filled the room.

When the lunch break approached, Erica stepped over to Floor G's secretary office.

"Meg, could you keep an eye on the floor for a few minutes?" Erica asked the pufferfish-like secretary, "Celia invited me to watch her floor inspection."

"Of course, dear," Meg responded in her gurgly accent.

Rushing out of Floor G, hoofs clacking on the tile, Erica headed toward Celia's direction when a monster appeared out of nowhere.

"Oh!" exclaimed Erica. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of the notorious purple lizard. She'd heard plenty about him but had never seen or met the elusive ex-scarer.

"You the supervisor of Floor G?" he asked bluntly.

Erica caught herself staring at the jagged scar across his face. Snapping her gaze back to his eyes, she straightened her posture and planted a hand on her hip with a facade of confidence. "Yes, that's me," she replied with a steady voice.

"One of the jokester assistants on your floor spotted some grime on the canister grips. I'm here to clean it before your inspection," Randall informed her. 

I didn't notice that when I checked the door stations, thought Erica. But I have so much on my plate. Maybe I missed it? I don't want to be docked points because of silly grime!

"Take care of it," she ordered, "My inspection is right after lunch, so complete it as soon as possible."

"Will do," he responded as he watched her dart toward Floor F. 

She's sure bossy, he presumed, I bet she runs her floor like the navy.

Randall pushed a small maintenance cart onto the floor, keeping his head down and his movements casual. Usually, he would have slipped in unseen, but today, it was crucial that a few monsters noticed him. He needed to blend in just enough to avoid suspicion, yet remain visible enough for some monsters to notice him. If the floor supervisor had any idea what he was really up to, she’d probably tear him apart.

A few days ago, Randall devised a scheme that could get him help. Like all his other plans, it was crazy and stupid. Still, it was hard to think of anything better due to sleep deprivation and desperation. To keep himself and his family out of danger, he had to get help from the one monster Worthington would never expect.

James P. Sullivan

The idea of going to Sullivan made him want to throw up and die. The two of them hadn't even talked or been within a ten-foot radius of each other since he was banished over four years ago.  Even when Sullivan offered Randall the job with MIGHT, Hailey handled all the communication. Though he knew Sullivan disliked him tremendously, Sullivan wasn't the vengeful type, just a big pair of blue goody-two shoes. Of course, there was the possibility that Sullivan would call him a liar and throw him out. Yet, he was confident Sullivan would want to protect Monsters, Inc. and eliminate another evil invention.

Lou and Worthington’s spies in the factory could be suspicious if they saw Randall enter Sullivan’s office frequently for no reason, so Randall planned a scheme that would get himself in trouble. Something serious enough that the CEO would need to meet with him often as a disciplinary measure but not severe enough to get fired. Inspection week seemed like the perfect opportunity to cause some mayhem.

Randall hovered behind the assistants' desks as he silently rehearsed the door stations' complex mechanics in his head. Any moment now, the lunch bell would ring, and he'd have his chance. Initially, he'd planned to unleash chaos on Floor F, but that would mean dealing with Celia and her ever-irritating husband—two obstacles he had no patience for. Floor G, on the other hand, seemed like the perfect target. He had no connection to its supervisor and no ties to the workers. A perfect spot for disruption.

Besides, Floor F carried too much history. Randall had spent sixteen years scaring there, and the thought of wrecking it felt wrong. No, he’d take his havoc elsewhere.

The bell disrupted his contemplations. Chatter filled the air as the jokesters and their assistants retired for lunch. Randall stared with disgust at one monster who wore clown face paint. 

When most workers trickled out, Randall pulled out his toolkit and moved toward one of the door stations. Taking a deep breath, he knew there was no turning back now. He worked with quiet determination, adjusting the canister clamp until he was satisfied. 

During the rest of lunch, he methodically sabotaged several more clamps. He hoped that the inspectors wouldn’t spot the subtle tampering or, worse, that someone wouldn’t get hurt.

Wait, what if they did get hurt? He hadn't considered that! However, it was too late to change his mind. The bell sounded again, and all the monsters returned to resume their work with full bellies.

Randall decided to stay and watch the inspection (while invisible, of course). He thought it would be entertaining and wanted to see his handiwork cause chaos. He hung by the entrance, watching the workers ready themselves. The floor supervisor nearly touched him as she entered Floor G. She stopped in front of the invisible monster and nervously gripped her clipboard with two hands.

Watching Celia's inspection put her more at ease. It was more tedious than she expected. The inspectors eyed the equipment while it was in use, checked for messy areas, and asked Celia and a few jokesters questions.

My floor looks just as clean and functional as hers, Erica thought, If she can pass, so can I!

She noticed that a few of the jokesters and assistants seemed on edge. Though the supervisors received the brunt of the feedback, everyone's work performance was noted.

A little pep talk might help, she wondered. Randall and the other monsters watched curiously as she climbed on one of the assistant's desks.

"Hi everyone! May I have your attention for a moment?" she announced to the employees.

A colorful crowd gathered around her, eager to hear what she had to say.

"Team, today is a crucial day for us. Our floor inspection marks an opportunity to showcase the hard work and dedication we've put into our jobs. Let's remember that we're in this together.” 

Erica paused to look around at her coworkers. "I have full confidence in each of you and your abilities. I'm grateful for your dedication, hard work, and unwavering commitment to our team. Together, we will make today's inspection a success. And, of course, let's show Floor F who's the best in the business!" 

The air became alive with the chaotic chorus of airhorns, rubber chicken squawks, and cheers from the monsters. Satisfied, Erica descended from the desk, her face glowing with eager anticipation. Randall couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in his stomach. Despite her stuck-up demeanor, a part of him hoped she wouldn’t lose her job because of his sabotage.

Not long after, the inspectors arrived wearing lanyards with badges and carrying laptops or clipboards.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Howell," greeted one of the inspectors, "Are you ready for your inspection?"

"Yes, sir," she said, shaking one of his hands. Welcome to Laugh Floor G! Please feel free to ask me any questions during your visit."

The inspector nodded in response. "This shouldn't take too much of your time. Please continue your work as normal. The results of your inspection will be posted next week. Now then! Let's get started. Whenever you're ready, Ms. Howell."

Erica’s voice counted down from the speakers, and the jokesters returned to action. The inspectors spread out and began writing notes. 

Randall wrung his hands nervously as he eyed the canisters hooked up to the door stations. A few minutes passed, but nothing happened. The inspection seemed to be going perfectly, much to his disappointment.

I should have loosened up the clamps some more, he thought with annoyance.

Later, the inspectors regrouped and approached Erica.

"Magnificent job!" one of them applauded. "This was your first inspection, yes? It looked wonderful. Not a speck of dirt or screw loose anywhere!"

"Thank you!" Erica said, relieved. "I couldn't have done it without my friends and my team. Everyone was so—"

BOOM! The sound of the canister popping out of its grip on the door station sent a shockwave through the room, making everyone jump, including Randall. It rocketed to the ceiling with a deafening clang before veering wildly to the left, slamming into the walls as pressurized laughter spewed out of the valve. Everyone scattered in a frenzy, as a second canister shot free, joining the first in its erratic, destructive flight. Both bounced off the walls and floors, leaving dents and cracks. Two more canisters erupted from their stations, joining the madness. The air was thick with wild laughter, frantic screams, and sobbing monsters as lights shattered in a shower of sparks, windows splintered like glass rain, and desks were pummeled by the rogue projectiles.

Erica stood frozen in horror, her eyes wide, unable to process the devastation unfolding before her. Her mouth hung open in disbelief, and her clipboard dropped to the floor with a soft clatter. The inspectors huddled under desks or behind canister carts, desperately seeking shelter. Unfortunately for everyone, the canisters were massive, charged with raw power, and showed no sign of stopping, wreaking havoc with every passing second.

Randall couldn't help himself. He cackled manically as he watched the hysterical scene play out before him. The expressions on everyone's faces were priceless!

Erica finally came to her senses. Dodging the wild canisters, she desperately slammed her hand against a large red button. Red lights flashed, and a siren wailed, adding to the chaotic symphony of sounds.

Finally, the canisters' energy began to wane, sputtering out a few last, disjointed bursts of laughter before falling still. One of the empty canisters rolled slowly across the floor. It stopped at Erica’s and an inspector’s feet, the silent pause hanging heavy in the air. Without warning, it exploded with a deafening bang at their feet, sending both of them leaping back in terror, their hearts pounding. The sudden burst of energy left the room ringing with its echo.

Emergency personnel rushed in, their faces grim as they quickly began evacuating the terrified workers. The once-bustling floor was now a chaotic scene of panicked monsters scrambling to safety, the air thick with the smell of burnt electronics and dust.

"I-I'm so, so sorry," stammered Erica, "I don't know what happened, everything should have been checked and...and..."

"I was almost killed!" an inspector yelled angrily. "This was the WORST inspection I have ever witnessed!" The distraught monster left Erica in a huff.

"Everyone clear out!" one of the emergency personnel shouted, "We need to get this room under control!"

Time to go , smirked Randall. He slipped away from the battered laugh floor and rejoined Lou. If this worked, he should expect a meeting with Sullivan soon. He shuddered with anticipation.

*

"I'm telling you, Ms. Howell, we checked all your stations last week and didn't find anything wrong!" asserted Fritz, the big-nosed manager of MIFT. "You can check our report right here!"

The angry white monster grabbed the packet, her eyes scanning through the pages. The past 24 hours had been a nightmare, a blur of chaos and humiliation. Yesterday evening, she answered questions from emergency responders and the CEO. The inspection team wasted no time, slapping her floor with a failed grade. She’d spent most of the night in tears, overwhelmed by the weight of embarrassment.

The only silver lining, if one could call it that, was that no one had been seriously injured or hurt. And perhaps the most surprising of all, she hadn't been fired. Yet. At this moment, her floor was out of commission, a battlefield of shattered equipment and ruined canisters, while the MIGHT and MIFT teams scrambled to assess the damage. 

"Are you sure your workers looked hard enough at my door stations?" Erica questioned, "Maybe they missed something! How else could this have happened?"

"I trust my team with my life!" declared Fritz proudly, "I know they made sure your stations were in tip-top shape! I swear it on my beloved vending machine, Vendy!"

Fritz then peered around the floor cautiously with his large eye and motioned Erica to step closer.

"My best guess is that someone sabotaged your stations," he whispered.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"When I looked carefully at some canister clamps, it looked like someone had intentionally messed with the parts."

“Sabotage? Who would sabotage my floor? Did I unintentionally tick someone off, or did they feel threatened by how good my floor looked?"

"I’m not sure, but I could be wrong with my theory. Don't you worry, though! MIFT will get your stations back up and running in no time! Not all of them were severely damaged, so some of your jokesters could come in tomorrow!"

"Thanks for your help," sighed Erica, handing back the report. Fritz nodded his blue head and left to fix a door station.

Why would someone sabotage Floor G? It makes no sense! Erica sat down on a chair to think. My stations were working perfectly that morning. They didn't go berserk until after lunch. Maybe the culprit vandalized them during the break?

Wait a second! Right before she left to visit Celia, Boggs told her he would do some last-minute cleaning! If anyone was going to wreck Monsters, Inc., it would be that good-for-nothing criminal! She had no idea why he chose to ruin her life, but she needed to collect evidence and clear her name!

Erica ran to the surveillance room. "I need footage from yesterday of Floor G!" she demanded to the three-headed watch guard.

The monsters scanned the footage, confirming Erica's suspicions. The evil monster was undoubtedly tampering with the canister clamps!

With a copy of the surveillance footage, Erica marched to the CEO's office. She wanted Boggs punished! Or better yet, fired!