Chapter Text
Not even jail was enough to stop him.
Tippy uncovered his Master Criminal outfit. He’d barely been out of jail for one day, and already he had his next plan set in motion. Tippy had unfinished business with the Mars door, and he intended to find it, no matter what it took. Fortunately, being a doorman granted him knowledge otherwise forbidden to him. He knew, for instance, that the Mars door was being held in the science lab for testing. Of course, without the chosen doorman, they’d never be able to use their science equipment to tap into the magical properties of the portal.
He slipped on his outfit. Everyone in the city knew this outfit belonged to him, so it was hardly a disguise, but that didn’t matter. He just needed its dark color scheme to blend in with the shadows.
He glanced at his utility belt to make sure he had everything. He had a few lock picks, a grappling hook, a screwdriver, and black spray paint. That was everything he’d need for this mission.
He went onto the roof of his apartment complex and looked over the edge. Lights twinkled in the darkness. He readied his hook, then with only the smallest of hesitations, he dove down into the city lights. Wind whipped around him as he fell, but then, at the precise moment, he aimed, then shot the hook over to the next building. The momentum brought him into a stomach-dropping swing that reminded him of the weightless feeling of being in space. His days as the Master Criminal taught him how to be skilled with a grappling hook, as well as deceptive and stealthy. But it was all a means to an end. Soon, he wouldn’t need any of those skills. Opening the door of Paradoors would require him to be a strong, worthy individual. No more skulking around in the shadows; it was finally time for him to step into the light and claim what was rightfully his: his crown.
Tippy got into a rhythm of swinging between the buildings, and eventually, he arrived. He landed on top of the science lab and moved over to a large vent, using his screwdriver to open the metal frame, revealing the darkness beyond. This vent would lead straight into the hallways of the laboratory, but beyond that, he’d have to trust his instincts to lead him to the door. He let out a nervous breath, then crawled inside.
The tight space pressed coldly around him in the pitch-black, but he kept moving forward. A faint glow emanated ahead, and he came across another opening of the vent. He peeked between the metal bars, seeing only a dimly lit hallway below, devoid of scientists or any other people. Just as he’d hoped.
In the corner of his vision, a small red dot flickered on a security camera. Before he left the vents, he’d have to take care of that. He carefully unscrewed the grate and placed it next to him, then he uncapped his black spray paint and sprayed it onto the camera to block its lens. He jumped out and landed silently on the tiled floor.
The hallway stretched ahead and behind him, lined with doors. The Mars door could be anywhere in this facility. But he wouldn’t give up now, even if he had to check every single room in this building.
Was it just him, or did one of these doors seem…different? He went over to the door and stuck his lock pick into the lock, moving it around until the door obeyed him and opened.
There it was. In the room beyond stood the strikingly red Door of Doors.
His instincts had led him well. It had only been about two days since he’d seen it before going through the process of his trial and jail, but he missed its sight. Finally, this was the moment he had waited so long for. But surely it wouldn’t be this simple, would it? He inspected the room quickly, carefully, but besides the door, he only saw cabinets and counters stacked with microscopes, test tubes and other scientific devices. He didn’t even see any cameras or security measures in the room.
As he tentatively approached the door, he could see the grainy details of the Mars rock, illuminated by the faint light cast from the instruments. But no, this was much more than just a rock, it was the door to Paradoors. It was the doorway to his destiny, and to infinite joy.
He never actually touched the Mars door before. It’d been hooked to the outside of the space shuttle, and he was arrested as soon as he stepped foot outside the ship onto Earth. His heartbeat accelerated as he stretched out his hand, and then, his hand met the rocky handle. An inexplicable energy flowed into his fingers. He closed his eyes and held his breath while turning the knob. He wasn’t entirely sure why he kept his eyes closed as he fully opened the door. Maybe it was the fact that he was finally going to see the place promised to him since he was a teen, and it all felt too much like a dream. He feared if he were to open his eyes now, he’d wake up and shatter the illusion. But finally, he slowly opened his eyes.
Behind the open door was a cabinet and a counter, with a microscope placed on top. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Across the frame of the portal was just the other side of the room. His vision became blurry as he realized he forgot to breathe. He gasped, completely and utterly bewildered. There had to be a mistake. Paradoors was real, he was the chosen doorman, and this was the portal. So where was his paradise?
He shut the door, waited a minute, then opened it again. Nothing. Desperate, he tried again and again. None of this made any sense… he felt the power of Paradoors at his fingertips when he came in contact with the door, hadn’t he? There was no way the prophecies were fake. He was closer to his perfect world than he’d ever been before, but yet, it was still out of his reach. His mind raced as he tried to think of a possible explanation. There were all those tales passed down his bloodline, ancient texts from the first doorman who saw the world with his own eyes. How else could they have known there’d be this door on Mars, if it wasn’t true?
It was just now that Tippy started to notice the flaws of the prophecy. How could a doorman from ancient times see Paradoors if the only way to get to it was supposedly by opening this very door? This rock was on Mars the whole time; no one could’ve had access to it. He’d always assumed the ancient doorman had seen Paradoors in a vision of the future, but if that were true, why hadn’t he seen this exact moment coming? If he had, surely he would’ve given more specific instructions for how to activate the door. It simply made no sense. It felt as if the air around him was being sucked out of his lungs, suffocating him. They lied to him…
He couldn’t bear to see the other side of the science lab and closed the door. He looked down at the tiled ground and pushed his forehead against the red rock. All that effort he went to, the years of planning, the months in space, it was all for nothing. He sank to his knees.
His respect as a doorman… he grasped his hair.
His paradise… he trembled.
Everyone’s paradise… his eyes filled with tears.
It was all fake.
As the darkness of twilight slowly crept through the sky, it brought a slight breeze through the city. The gusts of wind swayed the fringes on Tippy’s epaulettes. Usually his epaulettes made him feel proud to be a doorman, but ever since the incident with the Mars rock a few months ago… it was hard to respect himself in his profession. He still enjoyed opening the doors for others, but now, without a destiny behind his profession, it didn’t give him the same amount of pride and fulfillment it once had.
A line already started to form in front of him. He looked down at his wristwatch and saw it was 7:00 p.m. That meant it was time to open the main doors to the theater. He grabbed the handles and opened the two wide swinging doors with a double-handed full swing Mickinley. That was the proper way a doorman should open a door after 5:00 p.m for a large gathering. The person in front of the line approached him.
“Tickets?” Tippy asked.
The man handed him two tickets, one for him and another for his wife. Tippy reached in his pocket and grabbed his Hudson Briar Median Black 12- point pen to sign off the tickets.
“Thank you. Now, if you could follow me, I will show you to your seats.”
He led them into the lavish theater and ushered them to the correct row and seats listed on their tickets. He then retraced his steps back to the entrance door and accepted a few more groups of people into the theater, pointing out their section in the seating area. The next couple in line flinched at Tippy.
“Oh, Tippy? I thought you worked at that apartment near city square. What are you doing at the premier of Shiny Objects: Part 2?”
Tippy signed their tickets as he explained. “Yes, I would normally be at that apartment, but tonight my employer set me here.”
“Well, I suppose that’s fine as long as you don’t try to steal the shiny objects!” joked one of them.
Tippy had to hold back from wincing at that joke. Clearly the town lost trust in him after the Mars mission, and he honestly couldn’t blame them. All along they were right about the Mars door being just a rock. He could accept that now, but back when he’d been in that science lab, that fact had broken him, leaving him sobbing at the floor of the rock for hours. He escaped before the sun came up and covered his tracks, but it still took him a few days to muster up the energy to leave his apartment after that. Even though that incident was weeks ago, the memory still hurt.
His attention snapped back to the couple and he brought them inside and showed them to their seats. After taking multiple peoples’ tickets, he became out of breath from constantly running back and forth between the ever-growing line outside and the large theater seating area inside. He was expected to be both the doorman and the usher, but clearly that was too much for a single person to do. There were plenty of other people working at the theater tonight. Couldn’t one of them take over the ushering while he checked the tickets? During one of his rounds of running back and forth he ran into his employer, Mr. Whitlock.
Tippy tried to catch his breath so he could talk to Mr. Whitlock about his problem. Before he could even say anything, Whitlock snapped at him.
“Tippy? Why are you slacking off?”
He took a deep breath and explained himself. “Sir, I believe ushering and doormaning is too much work for me to be doing at the same time. There are more people than I expected who want to see the show. Please, there are so many people working concessions tonight. Can’t one of them help me over here?”
Mr Whitlock laughed and stroked his white mustache. “Yes, of course Tippy. We don’t want you to work in your own pool of sweat!”
He used his fingers to make a loud whistling sound, and one of the guys working at the snack stand ran over to where Whitlock and Tippy stood.
“This is Jack.” Whitlock said. “He’ll help you out.”
Tippy wiped the sweat from his forehead, relieved. He’d half-expected Whitlock to deny his request. “Thank you.”
His short employer continued. “He will take over the tickets and doormaning, so you can focus on ushering.”
Tippy blinked in surprise. “Shouldn’t I do the doormaning?”
Whitlock folded his arms and shook his head. “Tippy, Jack is helping you out. You should be a little more grateful than that.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Besides, I’ve overheard what people have been saying. I think it’s best to leave you to usher, so the audience can focus on the show and not your Paradoors scandal.”
That comment really stung. He regretted going on that Mars mission everyday since, but he still was a doorman at heart. Paradoors was just a fake place, alongside its fake prophecy that he once believed made him important, but his expertise with doormaning was real. It was an integral part of him, even though it’d been associated with his most stupid decisions. But maybe Mr. Whitlock was right. Maybe doormaning was corrupting him too much. It didn’t seem like the other citizens had a lot of faith in that career choice anyways.
Whitlock nudged his side. “Put a smile on your face. It makes you look more professional.”
“Mhmm.” Tippy responded.
He left Whitlock’s side and went into the theater, ushering people to their seats. Ushering was similar to doormaning, just without the doors. Oh, who was he kidding? It was absolutely nothing like doormanning. Being a doorman required sophistication, grace and precision, while this job simply required the ability to walk and point. There was no challenge to it. He wanted to like it, but it was too boring. Besides, some people were still giving him weird looks. Tippy wished he could just cover his face, so nobody had to feel uncomfortable by his presence.
“Tippy?”
Oh great. Another person had recognized him. He spun around and met eyes with Duke Detain.
“Why are you ushering?” Duke asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be the doorman at the front?”
Well, that was a first. People all night had asked “Why are you here?” or, “I thought you worked at the apartments,” as if they were questioning why he was in their presence. But instead, Duke was asking why Tippy wasn’t doing his usual thing. It was a very refreshing question for a change.
“Well, Lieutenant Detain, my employer placed me here because he doesn’t wish for me to be doormaning.”
“That sounds ridiculous. You're Tippy Dorman , isn’t that what you do?”
“I can’t exactly blame him. I guess I’m not the ideal person to be greeting people, especially not in front of the doors. It’d give a bad first impression.”
Duke folded his arms “Will he at least let you watch the show once you’re done?”
“He’s going to let the other employees watch the show, but he told me to stay behind. I suppose he doesn’t want me to be tempted by those shiny objects.”
“Hmm…” Duke scrunched his face. “That doesn’t sound fair. This employer of yours doesn’t sound nice.”
“I suppose…” Tippy paused for a moment, then shook his head. He realized he wasn’t being very professional.
“Anyways, Lieutenant Detain, allow me to show you to your seat.”
“Please, call me Duke. And I was actually hoping to grab a snack before I got seated. Is that alright?”
“Of course, Duke. The concession stand is down the hallway to the left.”
Duke nodded and headed down the hallway. Tippy sighed and helped the next people to their seats. The theater was starting to fill up, and before long it was nearly show time. There was nobody left to usher to their seats, except for Duke. Finally, he came back from the snack stand with two hot dogs.
“I see you’re back.” Tippy said. “ Allow me to show you to your seat.”
“You mean our seats?”
“What?”
Duke smiled. “Yeah, I bought an extra ticket for you. I figured it would be better than sitting it out because you would be ‘tempted by the shiny objects’.” Duke made air quotes with his hands, but almost dropped his hotdogs in the process.
Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. This was easily the kindest thing anyone had done for him since before the Mars mission. Duke liked to stop by in his car every now and then and chat to him. Tippy thought it was because Duke wanted information from him, but maybe the constant visits were because he liked him. Tippy’s fake “professional” smile turned into a genuine one.
They arrived at their seats—the front middle area—just before the show started. Pretty decent seating, especially considering how pricey this show was. Guilt gnawed at him. He was definitely going to pay Duke back for this expensive ticket.
He scanned the crowd to make sure Mr. Whitlock wouldn’t catch him out here. He didn’t see his employer, but he ducked down all the same.
Duke handed him a hotdog. “Look, if you’re afraid of your employer catching you, I’ll cover for you.”
Tippy relaxed a little. “Alright.”
The lights dimmed, and the crowd settled down. Tippy sat up straight in his seat. The curtains opened, revealing a man in a feather boa and a gem-covered dress, holding up a diamond. He tossed his feather boa over one shoulder and went right into singing a song about shiny objects.
This show was even better than the original Shiny Objects. It was similar, but this blonde man in a dress had an exceptional singing voice and a captivating stage presence. Throughout the show, Mr. Whitlock was nowhere to be seen, and Tippy allowed himself to enjoy the performance.
After various musical numbers about objects that sparkle, the show ended. The audience cheered and some people in the front seats even threw roses on the stage.
Duke turned to him. “Would you like to walk me home so you don’t have to stick around here?”
“I’d have to sneak out, and I’m not sure I want to risk that. Whitlock wants me to work unpaid overtime to close the theater. I don’t know if it would be best to ditch him when he’s counting on me.”
Duke chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for choosing the best way, but sometimes the right option isn’t as clear as you’d think. Why does this employer of yours deserve any of your time? He sounds like a real jerk. But if you think it’s best to stay here I won’t fight it.”
Tippy smirked. “I didn’t know this side of you existed. I thought you were a rule follower.”
“I am a rule follower, but I also follow what’s right. And sometimes that’s more important.”
Tippy was caught off guard by his words, but Duke was right. Tippy had to be honest with himself. Mr. Whitlock was rude to him and often singled him out unfairly, so surely he had the right to go against his employer just this once.
“Alright we can go, we’ll just have to blend in with the crowd when we leave.”
Duke nodded, and they stayed seated until a huge group next to them got up. Tippy ducked down slightly, trying to disguise his height and prevent himself from sticking out. They got to the front door successfully without being spotted, where Jack stood doormanning. Tippy turned to Jack.
“Hey, could you clock out for me tonight?” Tippy slipped him a twenty. Jack smiled and nodded.
Tippy and Duke walked down the sidewalk under the completely dark night sky, heading towards Duke’s place, which was a few blocks away. As they were walking, Duke spoke up.
“So, earlier you said you didn’t blame your boss for not wanting you to be a doorman. Why is that? I thought you loved being a doorman.”
Tippy lowered his hat. “Haven’t you noticed, Duke? It’s not just Mr. Whitlock who wants me separated from my job. Nobody trusts me as a doorman. People can’t let go of the past, because I hurt them… That’s why maybe I shouldn’t be doormanning, doing the very thing that people only associate with my failure.”
Duke frowned as he walked down the lamplit sidewalk. “Well, if you put everyone’s opinions aside, do you still want to be a doorman?”
Tippy sighed. “It’s the career I am most qualified for. And if I never made the mistake of believing Paradoors existed, I think I would still love being a doorman. It’s fulfilling to me, regardless of any fake prophecy.”
This was all true, except he hated his current job. Whitlock treated him less like an employee and more like a servant, and at this point Tippy was just taking it if it meant he could continue being a doorman. He wished he could still do what he loved without the pain… but even if he wanted to do something else, what could he do? He grew up knowing he was destined to be a doorman, and only a doorman, and he’d prepared for that.
His education only extended to what was required for a doorman. In fact, he’d attended a special doorman school that the doorman society founded to teach him everything he ever had to know about his sacred profession. Because of this specific education, he was paid very nicely with Whitlock’s doormaning company, much better than any average doorman. He couldn’t leave all that money behind when his alternative was near minimum wage. Duke broke Tippy out of his thoughts.
“Tippy, I hate to make a decision on how to solve your personal problems, but it sounds like you truly like being a doorman. I recommend giving people more time to see who you really are. Sooner or later, they’ll put your past behind them. But in no way should you just take your employer's attitude. You should stand up for yourself. You’re worth more than all the disrespect he’s giving you.”
Tippy went quiet for a little bit. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize they were already at Duke’s apartment. There was no doorman that worked at the apartment Duke lived at. Tippy followed him all the way until they got to his room. They were at their destination, but Duke didn’t move inside.
“If it helps, you can open my door. I trust you to be my doorman.”
Duke had a supportive smile across his face. Someone actually wanted him to be a doorman, but more importantly someone trusted him. But there was one problem. He needed to ask Duke a clarifying question.
“This might be a silly question, but for me to open your door correctly, I need to know something. Would you consider this a… date?”
Duke averted eye contact and rubbed his arm. “I mean if you wanted it to be.”
Tippy really enjoyed spending the evening with Duke. Nobody went out of their way to make other people feel welcome like how Duke did. “Yeah, I think I’d consider this a date.”
Duke had slightly red cheeks. “Well, then I liked this date. We should do something again sometime. Maybe next weekend?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tippy put his hand on the doorknob before he remembered something. “Oh, but before I forget…” Tippy paused. “I can totally pay you back on the show ticket. I feel bad you had to pay so much for it.”
Duke shook his head. “No, I insist on paying for it. Really, it’s ok.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” Duke smiled.
Tippy still felt a bit guilty, but he didn’t say anything else as he opened the door the proper way a doorman should for a date after 10 p.m. Duke walked through, but turned around before he could close the door.
“Goodnight, Tippy.”
Tippy’s face went a little red as he smiled. “Goodnight, Duke.”