Post by lizardgirl on Jun 1, 2005 6:44:04 GMT -5
I know it's taken a while for me to write this, but with half-term I've managed to find the time to. It isn't too long, I think, but hopefully it's enough. ;D I really enjoyed writing it.
Randall stepped back and admired his handiwork. It wasn’t an incredibly large machine, nor did it fade away into the shadows- the gleaming stainless steel it was encased in didn’t allow that. This machine had a very singular purpose, and now it was complete, he’d enjoy acting out what had been running through his mind like a film reel the day he thought of it.
Emerging from his hideaway, a length of cord held in an upper hand, Randall scoured the entirety of the building, searching every nook and cranny for his victim. Unsurprisingly, he was to be found at Roz’s desk, fretfully sucking up to the monster that had had to put up with his endless amount of excuses.
“…But I promise you, my…peach blossom, that paperwork is on the top of my mind- it’ll be ready in no time!”<br>
“Save it, Wazowski,” was the gruff reply. “You’ll impress me when I see that paperwork done.”
“Hey, sure, no problem; it’s as good as finished!” the Cyclops exclaimed, backing away from the work-desk. He turned, muttering under his breath, to be confronted by Randall. “Get out my way, Lizard-Boy- I’m not in the mood.” He stormed past, shoving Randall out of the way, to be stopped once more- the scaly had grabbed one of his two horns and was holding him back.
“Shame- I am.” He revealed the cord and, as swiftly as he could, swiped back Mike’s two arms and tied his hands together. And before the little monster could protest, Randall lifted him in the air slightly, (which took a real effort, because although Mike didn’t conceivably look really heavy, he had admittedly been putting weight on) and laid him down on the floor, tying his legs together. Mike did put up a bit of a struggle, but with Randall’s agility and surprising strength, he was no match for the graceful lizard-monster.
Randall strode along the corridors of Monsters, Inc., dragging Mike along behind him, heading towards his hideaway. He didn’t care about people seeing him, simply because although they’d be outraged, they wouldn’t do a thing- they didn’t have the nerve. Anyway, only Randall himself had realised that the dislike he had for Mike could almost be matched the sheer number of people who also had a lack of fondness for the Cyclops.
The tool wall came into view, and Randall sighed with relief. Mike had been shooting his mouth off the second Randall had tied him up, threatening him falsely and trying to build up his confidence. “Wait till Sulley hears about this! He’s gonna be on you like a…a furry on a lizard! You’re done for, ya hear me, freak- DONE FOR!”
“And that’s why,” Randall began slyly, “I did this on Sullivan’s day off. Saying that, what’s wrong with the big lug, huh? Listening to your screeching and wailing done him in, eh?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s got a cold!”
“Whatever,” Randall replied dismissively. He didn’t particularly fancy any more small talk with this idiot, and thankfully revealing his secret lair would most likely shut him up.
As the two of them came down to the conclusion of the tunnel and the hideaway was opened to them, this did indeed happen, and Mike’s mouth was agape in shock. Randall set him down on the floor by a wall and raised an arm, pointing generally at the machine before them.
“You see that machine? It’s capable of extracting any living being’s molecular structure and DNA, and can multiply it to whatever amount I wish.” A slight level of confusion crossed Mike’s face. “Basically, it clones stuff. It works; I’ve tested it.” Randall’s eyes averted to two balls of fluff graced with eyes and two large mouths between them in a cage to the left, and Mike’s eye followed. “Can’t tell the difference, can you? There shouldn’t be any. So that means that I can get onto the big stuff. The FUN stuff. You see,” Randall continued, taking a seat next to Mike on the floor, who was now seriously freaked out, “I thought long and hard about what method of torture would hurt you the most. And there were many candidates- putting you on American/Pop Idol, tying your limbs together and having a good game of kickball -but I’ve decided on a real smasher.” He grinned, almost manically, each and every one of his teeth gleaming. “Well, let’s get on with it.”
He got up and made his way to a control panel of sorts, decorated with a number of glowing buttons and arrows. After pressing these in a certain order, a gentle whirring was to be heard, and a thin bar of electricity than ran the length of the machine, which ended in a point, lit up. Randall picked up Mike, popping him in the seat below this point, and bound him there, grinning all the while. This was when Mike noticed a largish, transparent box to his right, with a set of flexible tubes coming out of one side of it. When Randall reached out to them, the Cyclops began to panic.
“Look, come on, Randall, there’s no need for this! I’ve-I’ve got this great CD collection…if you wanna borrow some stuff-“<br>
“No use trying to bribe me, Wazowski. Ain’t gonna happen.” These tubes seemed to attach to Mike’s green skin relatively easy, and of the five, two were put on his arms, two on his legs, and one between his mouth and eye, the equivalent to his chest and where his heart was located. Whilst this was happening, he began to try and assess the situation, although this was definitely not one of his strong points. He eventually came to the conclusion that Randall wanted to clone him, but this posed a lot of questions, most prominently- why? Why would he make two of the one thing that he really hated?
Randall strode back around to the console and raised a hand. This was it- the touch of a button, and his dream would come true. At least, the first part of it would.
The button was pushed, and a bleep was to be heard. The machine powered up and the bar of electricity fizzled and cackled, glowing neon orange. In a second, a WAP reverberated around the room and the machine lit up so brightly that Randall had to shield his eyes. Once the noise and light had died down, he lowered his arms and resisted the urge to jump in the air and shout “WAHOO!” Instead, he walked over to Mike, who was smoking slightly, and looked in the box.
Inside was an exact replica of Mike, except this one was banging on the box walls and screaming- but the screams couldn’t be heard, as the box was soundproof.
“That went surprisingly well,” Randall said to himself, raising his eye ridges. He stayed well clear of the machine- it was always very hot after use- and went across the room to a small, almost invisible door. Opening it, he smiled again. It was an empty room, apart from a mirror hanging on one wall and the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling’s centre, and although it was of a reasonable size, the grey walls made it seem smaller. Randall went back and wheeled the box over- it had wheels on its base- leaving it by the other room’s door, and released Mike, dragging him along the floor. “Have a good time,” the lizard-monster said sarcastically, enjoying every moment before slinging the real Mike inside the room. The other Mike was beginning to look worried, and had ceased banging and making a ruckus. “Yep, you’re next.” Randall opened a front door of the box, stuck an arm in for the cloned version of Mike, and yanked him out, quickly shoving him into the room and slamming its door closed. “Well,” Randall said with a chuckle, settling down in front of a window that looked inside of the room, “this is going to be interesting.”
The one-way mirror had certainly been a good idea, but watching this scene between the two Wazowskis play out in front of him…Pure genious.
The two idiots just started out with shouting and hurling abuse at each other, but this eventually led to one (Randall was now unable to tell the difference) trying to swing a few punches at the other, unsuccessfully. The other burst into tears.
A last thought ran through Randall’s head as he focused on the fight before him- I wonder how much I could charge for people to watch this stuff…
If anyone wants, feel free to write about your own method of torture- the more the better!
Randall stepped back and admired his handiwork. It wasn’t an incredibly large machine, nor did it fade away into the shadows- the gleaming stainless steel it was encased in didn’t allow that. This machine had a very singular purpose, and now it was complete, he’d enjoy acting out what had been running through his mind like a film reel the day he thought of it.
Emerging from his hideaway, a length of cord held in an upper hand, Randall scoured the entirety of the building, searching every nook and cranny for his victim. Unsurprisingly, he was to be found at Roz’s desk, fretfully sucking up to the monster that had had to put up with his endless amount of excuses.
“…But I promise you, my…peach blossom, that paperwork is on the top of my mind- it’ll be ready in no time!”<br>
“Save it, Wazowski,” was the gruff reply. “You’ll impress me when I see that paperwork done.”
“Hey, sure, no problem; it’s as good as finished!” the Cyclops exclaimed, backing away from the work-desk. He turned, muttering under his breath, to be confronted by Randall. “Get out my way, Lizard-Boy- I’m not in the mood.” He stormed past, shoving Randall out of the way, to be stopped once more- the scaly had grabbed one of his two horns and was holding him back.
“Shame- I am.” He revealed the cord and, as swiftly as he could, swiped back Mike’s two arms and tied his hands together. And before the little monster could protest, Randall lifted him in the air slightly, (which took a real effort, because although Mike didn’t conceivably look really heavy, he had admittedly been putting weight on) and laid him down on the floor, tying his legs together. Mike did put up a bit of a struggle, but with Randall’s agility and surprising strength, he was no match for the graceful lizard-monster.
Randall strode along the corridors of Monsters, Inc., dragging Mike along behind him, heading towards his hideaway. He didn’t care about people seeing him, simply because although they’d be outraged, they wouldn’t do a thing- they didn’t have the nerve. Anyway, only Randall himself had realised that the dislike he had for Mike could almost be matched the sheer number of people who also had a lack of fondness for the Cyclops.
The tool wall came into view, and Randall sighed with relief. Mike had been shooting his mouth off the second Randall had tied him up, threatening him falsely and trying to build up his confidence. “Wait till Sulley hears about this! He’s gonna be on you like a…a furry on a lizard! You’re done for, ya hear me, freak- DONE FOR!”
“And that’s why,” Randall began slyly, “I did this on Sullivan’s day off. Saying that, what’s wrong with the big lug, huh? Listening to your screeching and wailing done him in, eh?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s got a cold!”
“Whatever,” Randall replied dismissively. He didn’t particularly fancy any more small talk with this idiot, and thankfully revealing his secret lair would most likely shut him up.
As the two of them came down to the conclusion of the tunnel and the hideaway was opened to them, this did indeed happen, and Mike’s mouth was agape in shock. Randall set him down on the floor by a wall and raised an arm, pointing generally at the machine before them.
“You see that machine? It’s capable of extracting any living being’s molecular structure and DNA, and can multiply it to whatever amount I wish.” A slight level of confusion crossed Mike’s face. “Basically, it clones stuff. It works; I’ve tested it.” Randall’s eyes averted to two balls of fluff graced with eyes and two large mouths between them in a cage to the left, and Mike’s eye followed. “Can’t tell the difference, can you? There shouldn’t be any. So that means that I can get onto the big stuff. The FUN stuff. You see,” Randall continued, taking a seat next to Mike on the floor, who was now seriously freaked out, “I thought long and hard about what method of torture would hurt you the most. And there were many candidates- putting you on American/Pop Idol, tying your limbs together and having a good game of kickball -but I’ve decided on a real smasher.” He grinned, almost manically, each and every one of his teeth gleaming. “Well, let’s get on with it.”
He got up and made his way to a control panel of sorts, decorated with a number of glowing buttons and arrows. After pressing these in a certain order, a gentle whirring was to be heard, and a thin bar of electricity than ran the length of the machine, which ended in a point, lit up. Randall picked up Mike, popping him in the seat below this point, and bound him there, grinning all the while. This was when Mike noticed a largish, transparent box to his right, with a set of flexible tubes coming out of one side of it. When Randall reached out to them, the Cyclops began to panic.
“Look, come on, Randall, there’s no need for this! I’ve-I’ve got this great CD collection…if you wanna borrow some stuff-“<br>
“No use trying to bribe me, Wazowski. Ain’t gonna happen.” These tubes seemed to attach to Mike’s green skin relatively easy, and of the five, two were put on his arms, two on his legs, and one between his mouth and eye, the equivalent to his chest and where his heart was located. Whilst this was happening, he began to try and assess the situation, although this was definitely not one of his strong points. He eventually came to the conclusion that Randall wanted to clone him, but this posed a lot of questions, most prominently- why? Why would he make two of the one thing that he really hated?
Randall strode back around to the console and raised a hand. This was it- the touch of a button, and his dream would come true. At least, the first part of it would.
The button was pushed, and a bleep was to be heard. The machine powered up and the bar of electricity fizzled and cackled, glowing neon orange. In a second, a WAP reverberated around the room and the machine lit up so brightly that Randall had to shield his eyes. Once the noise and light had died down, he lowered his arms and resisted the urge to jump in the air and shout “WAHOO!” Instead, he walked over to Mike, who was smoking slightly, and looked in the box.
Inside was an exact replica of Mike, except this one was banging on the box walls and screaming- but the screams couldn’t be heard, as the box was soundproof.
“That went surprisingly well,” Randall said to himself, raising his eye ridges. He stayed well clear of the machine- it was always very hot after use- and went across the room to a small, almost invisible door. Opening it, he smiled again. It was an empty room, apart from a mirror hanging on one wall and the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling’s centre, and although it was of a reasonable size, the grey walls made it seem smaller. Randall went back and wheeled the box over- it had wheels on its base- leaving it by the other room’s door, and released Mike, dragging him along the floor. “Have a good time,” the lizard-monster said sarcastically, enjoying every moment before slinging the real Mike inside the room. The other Mike was beginning to look worried, and had ceased banging and making a ruckus. “Yep, you’re next.” Randall opened a front door of the box, stuck an arm in for the cloned version of Mike, and yanked him out, quickly shoving him into the room and slamming its door closed. “Well,” Randall said with a chuckle, settling down in front of a window that looked inside of the room, “this is going to be interesting.”
The one-way mirror had certainly been a good idea, but watching this scene between the two Wazowskis play out in front of him…Pure genious.
The two idiots just started out with shouting and hurling abuse at each other, but this eventually led to one (Randall was now unable to tell the difference) trying to swing a few punches at the other, unsuccessfully. The other burst into tears.
A last thought ran through Randall’s head as he focused on the fight before him- I wonder how much I could charge for people to watch this stuff…
If anyone wants, feel free to write about your own method of torture- the more the better!