Work Text
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mike called up.
"At least it's fun!" Art shouted back from the second highest place in the shaky stack of monsters, though it was barely intelligible through all the tentacles in his face.
"Speak for yourself!" Sulley groaned as he did his best to keep Squishy's feet firmly planted on his shoulders.
Mike really did not think his friends could keep this up for much longer. "I still think we should just get a monster with wings!" he told them yet again. "I'm sure Professor Wilsterbury would…"
"…kick us out for breaking school rules," Terry interrupted him as he fiddled with Don's suctions cups that just would not come off the tree branch. "Now shut up, I need to concentrate!"
"I'm sorry!" Don promised as he tried, in vain, to pull his arms off the branch himself. "They're so sticky today! I should have hidden someplace else!"
"But you did great!" Terri argued, working on Don's left arm.
Mike bit his lip. While that was true, it had been half an hour ago. They were wasting time, and they were risking consequences. Maybe not expulsion, but Terry was right, damaging the landscape for training was generally frowned upon at this school.
"Guys," Squishy mumbled, clutching Art's legs a little tighter so that they would stay wrapped around him, "don't struggle like that, I can barely keep my balance…"
"These things just won't come off!" Terry complained, giving a hearty yank.
"Woah!" Sulley exclaimed as he overbalanced and lost his grip on Squishy's legs.
Mike wisely took a few steps backwards.
The twins must have realized that Sulley's support at the bottom was gone. They clutched the branch in seeming reflex to break the fall, except that the branch was too brittle. And fell along with them.
Mike closed his eye in sympathy as there was a mighty crash right in front of him. "Are you all right?" he then called over as he ran toward them.
It took a moment for all of them to extricate themselves from the pile in a daze. "Couldn't be better!" Sulley deadpanned.
"I'm not so sure," Don mumbled, regarding the dead branch to which he was still attached.
Now that they were all on the ground, though, they could work on the problem together, so when two people pulled on the branch and two on each of Don's arms, the suction cups finally came off.
"Thanks, guys!" Don exclaimed cheerfully, but Mike did not give him the time to be relieved. Someone must have heard the commotion.
"Okay, back to base camp, everyone," he commanded, waving at them to get them to move. "Hurry, hurry!"
Thankfully, they knew better by now than to question orders like this one. Immediately, they all scrambled to their feet or tentacles and bolted. With a little luck, they would all be out of here without drawing attention.
Luck, and common sense. "Art, you are not using that branch for camouflage!"
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"How do I become a Scarer?"She wanted to be angry with little Michael. She really did. But his gaze was just so captivating, his smile so brilliant, that she felt her fury fading."That is not the right answer, young man!" she scolded anyway. Because she had to. Michael's mother and father had to hear about this, of course, so she had to find a way so that she could promise them it would never happen again. And actually believe it herself.In the end, she just grabbed one of his hands to drag him off the Scare Floor, and he held on to Mr. McCay's hat with the other one, beaming as if he himself had just scared a human child. Where he had gotten the nerve to do this, she had no idea. And neither did anyone else; everyone was staring at the two of them as they headed for the exit.The children could barely contain their excitement at what had happened, and would definitely have crossed the line themselves if their tour guide had not had help with holding them back; several Scaring assistants were making sure the safety line was respected. But it did not seem to deter the children."Mrs. Graves, can I also enter a room?""This is no fair! If anyone would have deserved watching a Scare up close, it would not have been Michael!""Mrs. Graves, are you gonna punish Michael?""Be quiet, everyone," she commanded when she reached them. She was about to drag the boy safely away from the group for a good, long dressing down, but before she got the chance, several claws and tentacles had reached for him to hold him in place."How was it?""How come you're still alive?""Wazowski, why didn't you ask for an autograph?"Michael did not answer any of the questions. He still had that brilliant smile on his face. What magnificent an experience it must have been! He was still clearly so absorbed in the moment that he did not even seem to realize that, for once in his life, he was the center of attention."This way, ma'am!" someone murmured to her at close proximity, and when she looked up, she saw several of the medics and decontaminators, the ones who had rushed over to Mr. McCay's door before it had even clicked shut behind Michael. It was the medic with the horn who had spoken to her."I'll take care of the children!" the tour guide promised immediately, and she gave a nod of thanks before focusing on the knot of little monsters before her again."Let him go, everyone!" she called, gently prying a few appendages off the boy with her free hand, and he still seemed to be in some sort of trance. But he did follow her when she pulled on his arm a little, and in a large group, they left the Scare Floor."Now he's gonna get it!" one of the older children snickered, and he did not even try to be quiet enough not to be overheard. When they were back at the school, she would have to reprimand the rest of the group, as well.She felt everyone's eyes on them as they crossed over to the other side of the hallway and into a corridor before entering what appeared to be some sort of infirmary. Michael seemed wide awake now and kept turning his head to take it all in. It looked a little as if he felt rewarded for what he had done by getting to see even more of the company.She knew his two main moods, of course, but by now, she wished he would go back to the talkative one. The quiet and contemplative one always unnerved her a little. Had he not still been the focus of everyone's attention, she might have overlooked him entirely.The decontaminators had him sit on an examination table and then scanned him with toxicity detection equipment, but it would not make any sound. After a few minutes of this, they gave up and made room for the medics, before retreating into a corner and debating among themselves whether to notify Mr. Waternoose, or to call the CDA.The sluglike medic stepped forward and was about to take the hat away, but immediately, Michael clutched onto it with both hands, so they reluctantly let him have it.She tried suppressing her instinctive frown. She knew it was not her place to criticize a Scarer, but she wished Mr. McCay had acted a little more responsibly instead of praising the boy for his misdeed.The medic now fixed the boy with a stern gaze. "Young man, did you touch anything?"At least Michael was present enough now to shake his head at the question, still with that smile on his face."Did the child see you?" the medic went on, and again, Michael shook his head. Now she did frown at the immediacy of the reply, but if not even Mr. McCay had seen him, it was probably safe to assume that the human child had not managed to, either.They started to examine him thoroughly, then, and he let them, intently concentrating on each instrument or piece of equipment as they used it on him. She had to smile at his wide-eyed wonder. She knew he was not the happiest child there was, so she could not find it in herself to begrudge him this whole experience.She could not bring herself to tell him what the answer to his question was.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Johnny Worthington's hand on his shoulder felt good. Casual. It was this gesture that made Sulley sure he had chosen well, more than the guy's flashy words could ever have managed.He wished he had gotten a chance to see the house from the outside, assess what would be his new home now, at least for the time he spent in college, but he had gotten distracted by that little, green nobody. But oh well, he mused while one of his new brothers, the one with the small horns, pushed the double doors open - he would have plenty of time for exploring it from now on.The elegant interior emitted a sense of foreboding. He was entering sacred ground. Being here was a privilege, he knew. This was what was expected of him, and what he actually wanted himself, but immediately, he felt it weigh him down. And he could not help wishing to have been allowed to stay beside that unimportant loser. No one expected anything from him - but did that not also free him in a way?Sulley felt jealousy burning inside him, constricting his throat. Why could things never be that simple for him?"What's wrong, Big Blue?" Johnny's voice shook him out of his musings, with that piercing intensity that Sulley, even after mere minutes of being acquainted to the guy, knew was characteristic for him.Sulley cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice again. "It's magnificent," he lied. Well, no, it was no lie; the house and all it represented were breathtaking. But it was not the reason why he was being so tight-lipped.Still, Johnny seemed pleased, if a little amused. "And from this day on, you'll be part of the history behind it. Keep that in mind."That would not be so difficult, seeing as peoples' expectations were never all that far from Sulley's mind in general. Piling those of his new brothers on top of the considerable pile would not make much of a difference, right?There was a party going on here as well, but it was a lot more moderate, with people talking and looking as if they were just hanging out. Sulley did not fully understand the concept of Rush Week, but he did know that it was an opportunity for fraternities and possible new members to get to know each other. But this was definitely a private function - he even recognized some of the people from his father's regular dinners to which he always invited renowned Scarer families.He wondered if the RORs were even looking for new members. Were they making an exception for him? Or, heaven forbid, had they wanted him from the start and just used his prank on Fear Tech as an opportunity to approach him? Surely, Johnny Worthington Senior had to have known that Sulley would be coming to school this year.The other RORs now went back to the party, apparently in their role as hosts, but Johnny led him upstairs and into a hallway lined with display cabinets full of trophies and medals. Finally, they entered one of the rooms, and it turned out to be a one person bedroom, fully furnished in that same style that gave the entire building a sort of museum feel.Sulley gulped. Was that going to be his room? Whether they had wanted to recruit him or not, they were definitely recruiting him now.Johnny sat down in an armchair as if he owned the place, and Sulley wondered if he actually did. "C'mon, Big Blue, have a seat. Unless there's something wrong with the room?" But the intense stare that accompanied the question made it clear that it was not a question at all, and that Sulley had no actual choice as to what his answer would be.So he did as told and sat down on the bed next to the window. "No, I like it." Hm, too light a statement. "I mean, it's great." There, better. He wondered if Johnny was still assessing him.At least it looked like it, because Johnny was silent for a moment, but then he shrugged and directed his gaze out the window. "On a clear day, you can see the clock tower from here. Not the Scaring School, I'm afraid, but it's not as if you need the reminder, right?" He smiled at Sulley, then, but for some reason, it did not reach his eyes. "I'm expecting great things from you, Sullivan. Don't let me down."Sulley felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. He was not an idiot. He knew exactly what Johnny was saying. Slack off and you're out. "S-sure," he managed to reply around the lump in his throat. "I'm prepared to give this my all.""Well, then," Johnny said lightly as he stood up again, "I'd say that's settled. Care to join us for the party? Or do you want to go and get your things first?""Um, sure, party's fine. I can get them later." Sulley almost forgot to stand up as well, distracted as he was by the realization that this was the first time Johnny had asked his opinion. Sulley had not actually been given a choice about joining the fraternity. Not that he would have said no, but he would have liked to actually get to say yes.When he did get up from the bed, though, Johnny was already on his way out. But before Sulley followed him back down, he sent one last look out of the window, briefly scanning the congregation of monsters on the ROR house's front steps.The guy from earlier was gone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was still early enough. Classes would not start for at least another two hours, which gave Art the time to stroll through the neighborhood and soak in the morning air to clear his mind for the final event.
He knew it would be difficult, of course, but what was the point in fretting? They would either win or lose, and no amount of worrying in advance would change the outcome.
He took a deep breath as he went past a small kiosk, still closed at this unholy hour. Maybe he should wait until it opened and buy everyone a little treat for breakfast?
Huh. He wondered what Mrs. Squibbles had planned for breakfast.
He knew his focus was slipping, but for once he did not mind, because that was the point of this particular exercise. Quietly chuckling at himself, he resumed his course around the block.
A woman zoomed by on a bicycle, and he waved a cheerful hello to her, which must have confused her because he could hear a crash behind himself as he went on.
It had sounded a little like when Sulley had fallen with the stepladder during the second event. What if something went wrong this time, too? What if someone lost his cool and...
No. He needed to stop focusing. If he worried too much, then he would be the one to fail. Confidence. In that regard, what Mike kept saying overlapped with what his Philosophy professors had taught him. Believing and stuff.
He was almost home. He could already see the front porch, so he broke into a run, eager to wake someone and refrain from worrying together.
One misstep later, he found himself flat on his face. He had tripped over something. Getting up and turning around, he found that it was a book. Introductory Scare Techniques. The one that was used in first semester Scaring classes.
He owned one like that, too, but of course, he had not opened it in forever. All Scaring knowledge he acquired these days came from Mike. The last time Art had consulted this book had been a day or so before that exam he had failed.
Maybe this was a sign? That this would work out, and he would indeed be a Scare student again soon?
He picked it up and opened it. He faintly remembered enjoying the foreword, so he was about to reread it, until a scribbled note inside the book's spine drew his attention. It indicated that this book belonged to Mike.
Art blinked at it for a moment, then shrugged and went inside to return it. There was probably a good reason why Mike left his stuff lying around outside.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Johnny Worthington III was, of course, well aware of his own standing. As the heir of a line of noble, widely respected Scarers, he had certain values to uphold, behaviors to demonstrate, things to refrain from. Among those latter ones were neglect of his studies, disrespect towards his elders, association with the wrong type of monster, and unseemly conduct in general.
And he knew hatred was unseemly, silly even, especially if it was aimed at a target which was unable to shrink under its weight and, therefore, completely unappreciative of it. And yet, right now, he found himself really loathing the color green.
He had closed his mouth by now – as the gawking had probably looked rather undignified – but the numbness had still not left him, so he could only stand and observe as rows upon rows of Oozma Kappa supporters kept streaming onto the grass, trying to reach the monsters they had been rooting for and celebrate their victory.
Their victory. Roar Omega Roar's loss. It felt unreal. He had never even had the idea that it was possible not to win against such a bunch of misfits, especially considering how incompetent their leader and trainer was. From a psychology standpoint, this cutesy little monster's lack of skill should have completely demoralized the rest of them.
Chet and the others had retreated to their bench, as if it was some sort of safe haven that would shield them from the stampede of misaimed positivity. Looking at them, Johnny felt that he and his fraternity currently were the only people in this entire amphitheater who were not happy.
And that was true for the most part, as the majority of their own supporters had already left, except for a few who had taken to sneering at them or indulging in smugness.
Dean Hardscrabble was not happy, either, Johnny saw when he suddenly spotted her in the upper stands, but neither was she desolate. She seemed as stony as her marble bust in the School of Scaring, and her gaze was fixed on the Oozmas in wordless contemplation.
Unwilling to follow that gaze, Johnny looked back at his team. Which was one member short, but that, at least, was something he appreciated. Boggs had better know not to show his face around him anymore. Whether he had just winked out or left the amphitheater entirely was not even of importance; the fact remained that it was his abysmal performance that had cost them their victory.
Even though Johnny knew, deep down, that he himself had failed to compete with Wazowski's perfect score.
"We did it!" he heard the guy scream behind him, at the top of his tiny lungs, almost as if on cue, and his team's fans answered the superfluous declaration with a deafening roar.
Johnny refused to give in to jealousy.
It would be hard to explain today's events to his family. Hard to bear the reproachful, disappointed silence. But the worst punishment, he knew, would be his own burning humiliation at being bested by a bunch of losers, especially because, being the person he was, he would be expected to suffer the disgrace with dignity.
Better to face it immediately, then.
Drawing a deep breath, he turned around. It was difficult to make out the opposing team in the sea of green, but then he saw Wazowski among the Oozmas, perched on top of his purple teammate, raising the trophy into the air for it to shimmer under the amphitheater's floodlights. For a moment, Johnny had been wondering if that guy was even strong enough to lift it.
"Johnny?" he could hear Chet quietly call after him when he started making his way over there, but it was not worth answering the verbalized confusion; the rest of his fraternity would see where he was going, and would, hopefully, follow suit, lest they lose face. Well, more than they already had.
The crowd parted for him when people noticed him approaching, and that was probably why Wazowski spotted him just a moment later as he got back to solid ground. His cheeks were flushed a deep green with exaltation, but there was a sudden alertness in his eye, and he raised his hand to quietly fend off one of his bumbling teammates when addressed.
Johnny came to a halt in front of him, and in order to hold the guy's gaze, he had to look down so much that it almost hurt his neck. How could someone who was barely half his size even get the idea that he had a chance to…
But there had been that chance. And they had taken it.
A hush came over the gathered crowd as Johnny extended a hand, and almost as one, Oozma Kappa looked at their leader as if measuring their reactions based on what he did next. Not that he was doing much; right now, he was just standing there staring at the offered hand as if the gesture had sent him into shock.
His hand was slightly shaking, Johnny noticed to his immense shame. It felt like the most difficult thing he had ever done. And the guy knew that. Johnny could see it in that single eye, see so much more pride than a loser like him was entitled to.
But was he a loser? Could he still be addressed as such after performing that record breaking Scare? Johnny himself had never gotten a perfect score on the highest level, so he knew how difficult that was. The image of Wazowski on that little screen flashed in front of his inner eye again, clawless hands raised, lips curled in a wannabe snarl to reveal his blunt teeth… and yet, for just a fleeting moment, undeniably scary.
When it still did not look as if the guy was about to react, Johnny knew he had to elaborate if he did not want to be left standing there like a live statue.
"Congratulations," he offered. Just that, nothing more. If that was not enough for the guy, then that was his problem.
And now Wazowski smiled, a dazzling, brilliant smile that seemed out of place on his face; and he slowly took the offered hand with a small nod. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Still holding the guy's gaze, Johnny kept a hold of those fragile-looking fingers, just long enough to avoid being rude, and then, with a stiff nod, he let go and turned to leave. He looked at neither friend nor foe on his way out of the amphitheater.
He was already halfway to his fraternity house when he realized that Wazowski had not been gloating. That was a bit puzzling, considering that today was probably the first opportunity he had ever had to indulge in it. For some reason, he seemed not to have understood that his own team's triumph also involved the opposing team's loss.
It did not truly register in Johnny's awareness that he had stopped in his tracks until he consciously turned his head to throw a look back over his shoulder at the amphitheater's bright lights that he could still see in the distance.
Yes, he had suffered a humiliating defeat today, the worst he had ever had to experience. But maybe his honor was still intact.