Chapter 5: "Is It the Sneaky One, or—"
Afternoon, Manhattan.
200 Central Park West.
After finalizing the house paperwork and changing into more professional attire, Rango and Ted arrived at their destination.
The American Museum of Natural History.
The museum's entrance was grand and imposing—massive stone columns stood in neat rows, giving the building a sense of timeless majesty and academic authority.
As they entered the main hall, a soaring barrel-vaulted ceiling came into view, but Rango's attention was immediately drawn to the enormous skeletal structure dominating the entrance gallery.
A complete dinosaur skeleton, mounted in mid-stride as if frozen in time.
"Quite spectacular, isn't it?"
A pleasant voice interrupted his thoughts. A woman in a burgundy dress with an easy smile was approaching them.
"Rebecca Hutman," she said, extending her hand professionally. "I'm one of the museum guides here. Can I help you find something?"
"Oh, hello. Rango Winchester."
Rango smiled and shook her hand, then gestured to Ted beside him. "This is Ted. We're here to meet with Director McPhee. I understand you're hiring for night security positions?"
"An interview?"
Rebecca looked surprised. The man before her wore an obviously expensive tailored suit and what looked like a very nice watch—yet he was here to interview for a security guard job?
After a moment, she recovered her professional demeanor and smiled. "Well then, looks like we might be colleagues soon. Director McPhee should be in his office right now. I'll take you up."
"Much appreciated, ma'am."
Rango gestured for her to lead the way. However, just as they were about to head upstairs, Ted suddenly pointed at the dinosaur skeleton and asked, "Rebecca, that's a T-Rex, right?"
"Close! It's actually a Barosaurus. You ever see Jurassic Park?"
"Oh yeah, Jurassic Park!" Ted's eyes lit up. "So is this one of the sneaky clever girl raptors, or is it the big one—" He raised his paws and made exaggerated chomping motions. "The one that goes RAWR?"
Seeing the adorable display, Rebecca couldn't help but play along, mimicking his gesture with a grin. "I think this one's more of a RAWR type."
"Ahh!" Ted nodded enthusiastically. "So it's the one with zero chill that chased those kids around trying to eat them!"
"Well, our dinosaurs definitely don't do that anymore," Rebecca laughed.
"Right, right. Good point."
Led by Rebecca, Rango and Ted soon found themselves in the office of the museum's director, Cecil Fredericks—though everyone called him Director McPhee due to his obsessive management style.
He was a short, portly middle-aged man, but impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit with not a hair out of place.
After Rebecca made the introductions and excused herself, Director McPhee studied Rango with barely concealed skepticism. "Are you quite sure you're here to apply for a security position? You're not perhaps a consultant sent by the Board of Directors to evaluate my performance?"
Rango blinked, then explained, "I don't know anyone on the Board. I just heard through a friend that you needed night security, so here I am."
"I see."
The director looked Rango up and down—taking in the chiseled jawline, athletic build, and clearly expensive clothing. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and shook his head. "Right. Well, I don't care if you were a model or an actor or trust fund dilettante in your previous life, but you don't strike me as someone with the temperament for this work."
Before Rango could respond, McPhee gestured broadly toward the windows overlooking the museum halls. "Thirty-eight exhibition galleries of various sizes. Over thirty-two million specimens and artifacts spanning human history. Do you honestly believe you alone can protect all of this from vandals and thieves?"
"If we're talking about organized crime or a sophisticated heist crew, probably not," Rango admitted with a calm smile. "But ordinary burglars and troublemakers? I think I can handle that. And more importantly..."
He pointed to Ted, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet. "I brought backup. For one salary, you get two dedicated security professionals. That's what I call a bargain."
He paused, then added with a slight smirk, "Though I should probably avoid making jokes about historical labor exploitation in a museum interview."
"Excuse me?"
Director McPhee blinked, momentarily thrown. Then his eyes narrowed. "So what exactly qualifies you two for this position?"
"Jesus Christ!"
Ted, who'd been growing increasingly irritated by the director's condescending tone, finally snapped. "What kind of qualifications do you need for a security guard? X-ray vision? Mind reading? You want me to pop out adamantium claws or something?"
"Listen here, pal—" Ted hopped directly from his chair onto the desk, getting right in McPhee's face. "I may be small, but I've got more street smarts in my stuffing than you've got in your whole body. Does that count as a qualification?"
Director McPhee's expression darkened. "No one speaks to me like that in my own office!"
"That's because everyone else is too busy being polite while you waste their time!"
Rango sighed heavily. Well, there went this job opportunity.
He reached out to grab Ted and make a dignified exit, but before he could, a surprising sound came from behind the desk.
Laughter.
Director McPhee was actually chuckling. He took a deep breath and looked at both of them with newfound interest. "You're hired."
"Wait, what?"
"You've got backbone. You've got spirit. That's exactly what I need around here—not the three museum relics currently collecting dust in the security office!" He straightened his tie. "Twenty dollars an hour, full health coverage and unemployment insurance included."
Rango and Ted exchanged surprised glances. Then Rango couldn't resist asking, "What about dental?"
"Get out of my office!"
A few minutes later, once again escorted by the amused Rebecca, Rango arrived at the museum's security office and met the "three relics" Director McPhee had mentioned.
Three elderly security guards—two white guys and one Black gentleman. Based on their slow, careful movements, they had to be pushing seventy, minimum.
"Hey there! I'm Rango, and this is Ted. We're the new night security team."
Rango enthusiastically extended his hand, but the three old-timers barely acknowledged him. After a cursory glance, one of them barked, "What the hell? You here to guard the museum or guest star on Wall Street? Lose the fancy suit, kid. This is a museum, not the Met Gala!"
One of the white-haired men studied Rango and Ted for a long moment, then cracked a weathered smile. "Name's Cecil. I've been head of security here for... well, longer than I care to remember."
He stepped forward and squeezed Rango's bicep, his eyebrows shooting up. "Damn! What kind of standards did McPhee use to hire you? Feels like he's trying to push us old-timers into retirement."
Rango smiled but said nothing.
At that moment, the Black gentleman approached. He had kind eyes but a mischievous grin. "You must be Kevin's friend. He mentioned you might stop by. Name's Reginald, but everyone calls me Reggie."
"Nice to meet you, Reggie."
"Kevin says you're a good kid." Reggie nodded approvingly. "We need good people around here. This place can get... weird at night."
"Weird how?" Ted asked suspiciously.
"You'll see," Cecil said with a knowing smile. He walked over to a locker and pulled out a uniform, a flashlight, and a laminated handbook. "Your gear's all here. There's a taser in the belt—hopefully you won't need it. And this—" He tapped the handbook. "—is your bible. Read it cover to cover before your shift starts."
Rango took the items, surprised. "Wait, I'm starting tonight? Already?"
"Why not?" The third guard—a wiry white man named Gus—chimed in. "There's a seniors' swing dancing event at the rec center tonight. We're not about to miss that."
"Besides," Cecil added, heading toward the door, "best way to learn this job is to jump right in. You'll do fine."
As the three elderly guards filed out, Cecil paused in the doorway and turned back. He gave Rango a long, meaningful look—the kind of look that said there was more to this job than met the eye.
"Have yourself a good night, kid."
Something about his tone sent a slight chill down Rango's spine.
"You too," Rango replied.
After the old guards left, Rango changed into his security uniform—a navy blue outfit with the museum logo embroidered on the chest. It fit reasonably well, though it felt strange after years of tactical gear and expensive suits.
Ted climbed onto a chair and watched him adjust the belt. "You notice how those old guys were being really weird about tonight?"
"Yeah." Rango picked up the security handbook and flipped through it. "Definitely got a vibe like they know something we don't."
The handbook was surprisingly thick—dozens of pages of rules, protocols, and procedures. Most of it was standard stuff: patrol routes, emergency contacts, what to do if the fire alarm went off.
But as Rango kept reading, some of the entries got... odd.
Rule #47: If you hear footsteps when you're alone, stay calm and continue your rounds.
Rule #63: The exhibits in the Hall of African Mammals sometimes shift positions. This is normal. Do not attempt to move them back.
Rule #89: If any of the wax figures speak to you, respond politely but do not engage in extended conversation.
"Uh, Rango?" Ted was reading over his shoulder. "What the hell kind of museum is this?"
"The haunted kind, apparently." Rango closed the handbook and checked his watch. The museum would be closing to the public in about an hour. His first official shift would start at sundown.
His hand tingled slightly—that familiar sensation of supernatural energy nearby.
Between the Murder House he'd just purchased and this clearly supernatural museum, his system's progress bar was going to fill up fast.
"You ready for this?" Ted asked.
Rango strapped on the security belt, checked that the flashlight worked, and grinned.
"I was born ready."
"That's not actually an answer to my question."
"Ted, we're about to spend the night in a museum that apparently has moving exhibits and talking wax figures. I don't think anyone can be truly 'ready' for that."
"Fair point." Ted hopped down from the chair. "Well, at least it won't be boring."
As the sun began to set over Central Park West, casting long shadows through the museum's grand windows, Rango couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to have a very interesting first night on the job.
His system hummed with anticipation.
Whatever supernatural secrets this museum held, he was going to discover every single one.
[Support Goal: 500 PS → +1 Chapter]
[Support Goal: 10 Reviews → +1 Chapter]
Your review helps the story grow.
P1treon Soulforger (10+ chapters ahead)