((ooc: Planned thread. Sorry--that couldn't fit in the title. ))

Calley had a theory, and it went something like this:

The only reason you would lock a room in a Mansion full of adolescent mutants was to tempt them to break in.

The only reason you'd put that locked door on the same hallway with a "Danger Room" and a "War Room" was to seal the deal.

Calley "Milieu" Swartz, eighteen year old multi-shifter extraordinaire, adjusted his aviator goggles on top of his tousle-haired head. Ten years from now and across the globe in the land of koalas and drop bears, a chain necklace would rival his aviator goggles for sheer badassery. In this day and decade, they had no peer. A pair of camouflage cargo pants--two sizes two big; belted securely with black--and a gray 'The Pie is a Lie' T-shirt completed the look. Intrepid confidence written across his every feature, Calley turned back to face his fellow fiends. Adventurers, if you will. Together, the trio would take up the challenge left to them by the Mansion's founders. They would confront the Locked Door. And what was on the other side would be reflected in the cool glint off of his aviator goggles. Baby blue eyes briefly shared gazes with two like-minded individuals.

Katrina Dumonde. Thirteen, but a force to be reckoned with. Thirteen, and often underestimated for it. Thirteen was a good age to rule the world.

G-"to the awesome"-host. Air elemental, waif, spirit, nymph, imp; and, most important of all, First Attendant to a Tom Cat.

Standing at the top of the basement stairs, backlight by the entryway lights, they were a force that could neither be foiled nor fail. Outside, the howling winds of a December snowstorm crashed and rattled through every line in the building's brickwork. The basement below held the insulated chill of a buried cavern. At this time of night, half of the ceiling lights below had been turned off along that long hall to conserve energy. The spots of creeping dark and subdued light lead, inescapably, to one conclusion:

The door had been locked.

They had no choice but to accept the challenge.

When the weather outside was blustery and the school sessions were in-between and she really couldn't take the gloom -- that was when the cat struck. Her master made a mighty tempting offer. Things were so dull with everyone cooped up inside that he had her at locked.

The stairs were simple. The lighting ominous. But they all knew the real prize was the door. Ghost had been down here maybe a hundred times and never given it a second thought. There was no knob. That was definitely one way to lock out adventuring mansioneers. They stood before the door and ghost pondered aloud. "Whatever it is, I think it's big." She nodded to herself, looking up at the ceiling above them. "Think about how much mansion is left up there." But then again... "It could also be a broom closet."

Ghost rapped her knuckles against the solid metal door and heard only... metal. She had time for a shrug to Katrina and Calley before a small metal cover whirred open, making her jump. A blue light came out and starting sweeping right over her meager assets. "Hey!"

Ghost jumped back and a buzzer tone sounded. Whatever it had been scanning for, her boobs obviously didn't have it. Actually the height was just about right for Katrina's face. Was this door meant for a child? It was tall enough for an adult and wide enough for a really, really, really fat adult.

The lock, whatever it wanted seemed too smart for Ghost at least. She poked around the seams of the doorway. Most were tight, too tight for comfortable ghosting, but they weren't sealed and therefore not impossible to seep through.

"Well, if we can't go through it, we'll have to go around." Ghost held out her hands to each of her companions. She was lucky they were both scrawny, together they equaled maybe the mass of an adult -- she could probably do this in one go. It would be safer for them all to solidify on the other side together... just in case what was on the other side was dangerous.

"Okay here are the rules: One, don't let go until I say it's okay. Two, It might get a little uncomfortable since it's a tight squeeze, so don't let go. Three, I'm told you're a bit senseless unless you're really looking, so don't let go. Four, try not to puke on the other side?"

Ghost nodded. She considered them dully warned. Hands secure, she did her thing. A quick inhalation followed by creeping numbness and eventual shared incorporeality. She really hoped they could get the door open from the inside because this kind of thing took time.

Typically, she tried to keep ghosted companions in their human shape, but since that wasn't an option for going through the door cracks she just hoped it didn't scar them too much. Heck, Calley might even enjoy it - he changed shape on his own usually. It was even disorienting for Ghost, but she always kept the feeling of her comrade's hands in her in her mind. She wouldn't let go either.

Once on the other side, Ghost helped shape them as she remembered. She wasn't sure she got all their clothes, but she definitely got the people. That was the absolute most important bit. She made sure there was floor, but focusing on keeping everyone together was enough to keep her sensory range short.

From what she could tell there was floor... and that was about it. Almost like another Danger Room. Finally, she let them know that it was okay to let go when they were ready. Hopefully there weren't too many extra security surprises inside that would trigger upon solidity.

Door number three was asking for it. It guarded the final dungeon, home of the final boss. Katrina had tried this challenge before, but had failed. It hadn't even been an Epic Fail. Just a fail, lacking in both epic and capital letters. Katrina had vowed to get her revenge on door number three. It had taken some leveling up, and even a restructuring of her party, but with the additional people, she was ready.

Katrina was the thief of the party, in charge of stealth. It was her job to make sure no one saw them sneaking down toward the dungeon, even though invisibility wasn't quite as necessary when the lights were so dim. An illusion of silence stood by at the ready to hush any alarms they might inadvertently trigger.

Ghost, was their mage. She came packed with spells to squeeze them through tight places and blow away any enemies.

Calley, was the main character, as was clearly indicated by his aviator goggles and messy brown hair. He was in charge of looking like a bad ass (even when he was invisible).

The heroes regarded door number three. Door number three regarded Ghost's chest with a blue light. The fingerprint scanner or retinal scanner or boob scanner or whatever it was gave a buzz of protest that Katrina made inaudible to anyone within twenty yards in any direction. Access denied, that little buzz was trying to tell them.

That was fine, because they didn't need the special scanner to get in. They had a Ghostcaster of Awesomeness ready to slip the whole group under the door. All they had to do was hold hands and not let go, with special emphasis on not letting go.

Ghosting was similar to being in the void, but not the same. The nothingness was almost complete: as they vanished, she lost her senses. She couldn't feel her body any more, couldn't see, couldn't hear. She was surrounded in a gray fog and was also a part of the fog. Formless shadows drifted somewhere, but she couldn't tell if they were part of the real world or part of the fog world. There were no other thoughts to keep her company here, and not even her own thoughts were entirely clear. She was faintly aware of a swirling sensation, as if the gaseous molecules that made up her body were bending and shifting into different shapes, then reforming. Perhaps it should have been uncomfortable, but in her fuzzy state, it seemed as if it was happening to someone else.

The next thing she knew, she felt solid ground under her feet again. She could feel her feet again! They were on the other side! Door number three had met its match.

Her senses returned all at once. Every sense seemed magnified. Her clothes felt heavier and scratchier, her eyes seemed to pick up every glint in the darkness. Did Calley realize he was breathing so loudly? At least there were no alarms blaring. It was a bit of a rush to experience all at once, and the excessive sensations overloading her nerves left her feeling a little dizzy. At least she didn't feel like she had to puke. She put one hand against the cold metal wall to support herself, and the other on her forehead, trying to still the spinning.

There was something there that didn't belong to her.

“Err,” she felt the rest of her body, but it seemed that the rest of her clothing seemed normal. She looked up. Calley was missing something. A certain pair of aviator goggles seemed to have relocated themselves.

Awesomeness could not be bought, or borrowed: it was born. Sometimes smaller awesomes combined forces like Planeteers, and summoned something more powerful than themselves. Thus is was that the aviator goggles attached themselves to top of Katrina's head.

Katrina had evolved into Aviator Kat. Spot lights flared into life at her presence. In front of them, suddenly thrust from the black shadows by rays of fluorescence, Aviator Kat's purpose for existence was revealed. The black jet crouched over its landing gears, its nose pointing straight at their team with a reverent bow of its nose.

Calley could only accept his demotion with grace. And a bare minimum of wibbly eyes at the glory that had once been his. The glory that fit so well in blonde locks that he could not even think to ask for them back. Also, his pants were gone.

Fortunately, team Aviator Kat's new Rogue could still stand proud in his baggy chess-checkered boxers. He gave a resolute nod towards the largely looming metal bird.

" Objection!" He cried, with an epic thrust of one pointing hand. "That is in need of poking!"

Behind the jet crouched another door. It would be clear to see if they went around, or if they looked out through the cockpit's windows. It lurked in the half-shadows from the spotlight, sullenly resistant to Aviator Kat's pull. Oh, what a poking that needed.

Mental note: even though scrawny people and kids have smaller mass, they are just as complex as a regular person. Technically Ghost had nothing to do with the reforming process. All it took was the recession of her power and things should go back together. But, well... after squeezing through a door crack for longer than was mentally comfortable, the whole clothes thing was a bit of a mental drag. She had to concentrate harder on clothes. They were much more loosely tied to her.

And in her haste, she'd forgotten about her own. They lay in a puddle on the other side of the door like a bad dream. Calley's pants must've been there too, but she wasn't focused on the pants or no pants. She was focused on the very big open space in front of her that was filled with something hard and dense with clean lines.

Ghost didn't bother solidifying, she knew the dull ache she felt at her head would be so much worse if she were solid. She probably would have noticed her own nakedness if she were solid, but the general lack of a tactile sense made the no clothes a non issue. Under the poor lighting conditions, hopefully it'd be a non-issue for Calley and Kat as well.

Calley's cry of objection echoed around the large hollow space and that made Ghost let her awareness seep out farther into that undefined space until she found walls. The clean-lines took shape as her awareness extended. Plane. Oh. The Blackbird. She should have known. She'd seen it flying away at least once and heard the older X's talking about it before. She'd never stopped to think where the school might be hiding it.

The door, Ghost did not see or really feel. She was putting out general feelers so that she could encompass the whole space in her 'sight.' Ghost wasn't sure what Calley had objected. The plane maybe? It was a bit of a let down if that was all that was hidden here. Not even a challenging death ray or spell turret stood in their way? Just a little blue boob scanner? The correct term for that was Lame Sauce.

Spotlights flared at their presence, illuminating a very large, very sleek looking plane. It was almost as if the plane wanted them to come visit it, and welcomed them with lights. Aviator Kat was so busy ogling it that she didn't even realize at first that two of the members of her party were distinctly less clothed than they had previously been. The lights beckoned her toward the plane, like a bug zapper welcomed flies, but hopefully with less casualties involved. Aviator Kat wandered past individual sized storage lockers, past a small cleverly camouflaged keypad that may or may not turn off buzzing alarms that may or may not be waiting to sound in a remote security office after a certain length of time without proper numerical authorization, past a clearly marked fire extinguisher, to where the jet crouched to greet them.

“I didn't know we had a plane under the school! This is so cool! Come on!” Aviator Kat beckoned her team mates, turning back to see if they had caught up yet. That was when she realized Calley lacked pants and Ghost lacked not only her solidity, which was relatively normal, but also lacked any clothing at all. Quickly the aviator turned her face away from the pair of them. Why, when one was adventuring, did someone always end up naked? She wasn't sure which was worse, either. Ghost was a girl, so that wasn't so bad, except that Calley was right there. At least Calley had boxers still, so that was a little better than last time when she had seen him with nothing but a pair of high tech accessories that could melt through layers of walls with a single shot.

“Err.” How did one tell one's friends that they were improperly dressed for adventuring? What if someone caught them like this? That would be embarrassing indeed. “Guys, you might want to check those locker things.” Aviator Kat waved her hand towards the small, narrow doors that were embedded in the wall. “There might be some spare uniforms or something in there. I'll just... look around over here... or something.”

The teen ducked underneath the noble plane to check out the other side and noticed the secretive outline of yet another mysterious door hiding in the shadows beyond the plane. That would be interesting to investigate while she waited for her friends to be once again properly attired so they could check out the plane together. She wouldn't want to start exploring without them. Slowly Aviator Kat wandered toward the silent portal, wondering what secrets hid behind door number four.

And lo, there was NEKED! And it was good.

As the team leader, Calley would have been obligated to turn his head away instantly from the disrobed elemental. Seeing as Kat has usurped him, however… really, a Rogue could not be blamed if he looked just long enough to properly receive the full measure of treasure for his coming blush. Payable in split-second of very vivid memory. It was somewhat ruined by the clearly labeled fire extinguisher he could see through her, but that could be selectively edited using MemoryGIMP at a later point.

Whoot.

But lo, Aviator Kat did not approve of his boxers. With full pride in his chess-patterned cotton, Calley strode towards the lockers and procured himself some—

--spandex?

-tight black leather?-

--BATTLE KILT. The silver-and-black X’s really brought out his team pride.

With the proud strut of an eighteen year old with just enough Irish blood and confidence to pull this look off, Calley ducked under the X-plane’s belly in pursuit of their fearless team leader.

Aviator Kat had found something even better than a jet. Or at least, something less readily poked. Calley stepped valiantly up to the door. The blue scanner looked for his boobs. Failed. Lingered an awkward moment on his kilt. Then turned red. Below his feet opened a Gaping Electric Pit Trap.

Because electrified traps are what all the cool kids install in Mansions full of minors. Right, Silver Streak and Luke Jacobs?

His kilt caught on the edge of a poorly installed screw as he went down. A moment later, a pair of checkered boxers was frying up to a incapacitated cotton crisp at the bottom of the trap. A little white cat with black spots here and there clung with four paws of aching claws to inside of the kilt. Wide baby blue eyes stuck out the top opening. A very poofed black tail tip stuck out the other end.

“Merrow.” A little help. Please.

Kat's excitement seemed to drain from her movements as soon as she turned around to check on her teammates. Anyone who lived at the Mansion had seen more of Calley than boxers. It was almost a right of passage. You weren't a real Mansionite until you'd seen far more of Calley than you ever intended. That is why she was confused when Aviator Katrina addressed everyone present excepting herself.

She touched her stomach and felt... skin. She squeaked and zipped toward the aforementioned lockers, slipping through the vent of one locker with enough force to rattle the metal door. She checked herself. Naked. NAKED. Very, very horribly naked! "I'm soooooorry!" The soft wail echoed from the locker. She wouldn't, no couldn't solidify inside the locker as she wished and so she waited until Calley had found his Kilt and scampered off to whatever Kat had found.

Once the coast was clear, Ghost slipped out the way she came and solidified on the other side. She was slipping into a leather jumpsuit that was just a bit too large in the middle and a bit too short on the arms, she heard a strange clap of flooring and a cry of alarm.

“Merrow.”

Her master needed her! Ghost ran the zipper up a bit fast, catching the skin at her throat as she jogged over to where there was now a hole in the ground. Ghost looked a question at Katrina, but there was no time. Ghost stuck her arm down the trap without thinking. It wasn't until afterward that she had time to hope that whatever the origin of charred smell was didn't mean fire.

Her fingers caught kilt and... fluff. "Are you okay?" Ghost cupped her fingers around the base of the fluff grabbing kilt in her fingers too. Zaap. Oops! Like Operation, some metal on her sleeve had connected with the wall of the trap and gave Ghost and perhaps even Calley a bit of a shock. Ghost pulled her master up the rest of the way, her heart fluttering like crazy. "Must be something good if they set traps like this..."

Calley wasted no time in finding a uniform that suited his tastes, and had slipped beneath the plane to help check out the next mysterious obstacle in no time at all. Ghost took a little longer, what with the hiding in the locker while she waited for the rogue to give her some privacy on the starboard side of the plane.

Calley was not shy about going right up to the door and allowing it to scan him from neck to kilt. Somehow the black and silver X's failed to convince the boob scanner that he was authorized to stand in front of the almighty door, for suddenly a hole appeared where there should have been floor. “Wa?!” Aviator Kat scrambled backwards, for had she been standing an inch closer, she too would have been fried as crispy as Calley's checkered drawers. She had been kidding about the bug zappers.

Luckily for Calley, Ghost had quicker reflexes than her own. An instant after the plaintive “Merrow” Ghost was risking a life and limb to rescue his furrified self from certain electric doom. It was clearly written in the code of leadership that after terrifying , she should comfort the team with hugs. Carefully the little blonde aviator scampered around the edge of the pit and threw her arms around her party members in a hug.

“Are you okay,” she echoed Ghost as she stroked the kitten's head. “That was a close one.”

>>>"Must be something good if they set traps like this..."

Katrina nodded. “We should be more careful. Who knows what other kinds of traps they have?” There could be lasers, flame throwers, chopping axes, or any other manor of dangerous devices. Why didn't they post warnings or anything telling students not to come in here? You'd almost think they wanted to reduce class sizes or something.

It was said that many a Mansion student had suddenly ‘decided to leave’. Several dozen could disappear in a year, and no one would question it closely. The number of them that were carried out by the staff under the cover of night—some of them smelling like BBQ—was suddenly a matter of great concern in a small white-and-black furred head.

Calley Kitten clung close for comfort and cuddles, the kilt still wrapped around him. He was a cat cocoon. A cat cocoon with X-patterns, and slightly fried looking fur. Zaap, after all. Zaap, indeed. Still, one would not hear any Siamese complaints. His First Retainer had preformed up to par. In fact, she may have earned a dead mouse outside of her door tomorrow morning. Or next week. He couldn’t spoil her, after all.

>> “Are you okay?”

“Merrow!” The little white cat with black spots here and there answered vocally; “Me-row merrow maroak!” This was clearly a cutting social and political commentary upon the electric trap. And whoever installed it. And, possibly, the dubious origins of their ancestors. He let himself be soothed down to a purr as his team leader used Full Restore. Purr, hug, purr. In fact, he even remembered to shift himself some vocal chords that could be understood.

It was just as well for Aviator Kat’s Paladinian ears that, err, he didn’t remember that sooner.

“Never mind the flamethrowers,” the cat advised (curling up more comfortably in the kilt in his First Retainer’s arms); “it’s the alligatorthrowers that worry me. Who knows what fiendish minds doth dwell behind that door?”

Baby blue eyes turned upon said foe. That door that had moved far beyond poking. Nay, friends—it had earned itself a prodding. Ah, but how to prod. The small cat’s regal neck stretched elegantly backwards. Door, wall, vent, wall, wall, wall, wall, wall, ceiling—

Vent?

Hmmmmm. It looked suspiciously well-sized for a thirteen year old, a cat, and an air elemental. And a bit cramped for any chopping ax apparatuses. These two elements in combination were what a Rogue Kitten’s mind appreciated in a possible entry point.

"Surely not flame throwers..." Ghost surveyed the door dubiously... surely not. Though battle axes, that somehow seemed a bit more plausible. Ghost shook her head to clear away the silly thoughts of alligator launchers. She was too tired to be doing something so dangerous. But... the curiosity! It was piqued!

The furred master in her arms was looking at something, though he had the power of human speech, he choose to motion with his eyes. What? Were there audio sensors up there? Ghost edged around the gaping hole in front of the door and held the kilt up above her head so that the kitten was within easy reach of the vent. It was one of the good parts of being a somewhat tall woman. "Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?" She whispered to the cat who was no doubt checking things out further. Did he need fingers? It seemed fingers would be necessary to remove the cover of said vent.

"Let me push Kat up there to see what she can do." Ghost was careful not to accidentally drop her master in the pit of electric doom as she brought the kilt clad kitten down into her arms for a good head scritch before setting the kilt down.

Remaining in her kneeling position, Ghost offered her shoulders to Katrina. "If you sit on my shoulders, you'll have your hands free to try to get that vent off. If you do, we can send Calley through since he weighs the least to test it out. If he doesn't fall into any ninja pits or wrestle any gorillas, maybe we can see about him letting us in through the door or if you have to, perhaps you can squeeze through the vent."

As much as her mast believed in her slenderness, Ghost was somewhat worried about weight. Vents weren't exactly super secured to the ceiling as far as she knew. Screws and plastic washers just weren't going to cut it for her even if she was lighter than the average bear. If she had enough energy she would ghost through... perhaps she still could if she rested a bit first, but for now -- the traditional method seemed wisest.

Aviator Kat climbed up onto Ghost's shoulder. The screws weren't screwed in very tightly, so they weren't to difficult to loosen with her small fingers. She handed the screws and the vent down to Ghost and analyzed the opening. There was room enough for her in there, but not much extra. She'd have to go through to open the door from the other side; Calley probably couldn't do it without opposable thumbs, if that was even the kind of doorknob there was on the inside.

“I'm going to try and squeeze through,” she informed her comrades, then wiggled her way into the vent. She tried to avoid stepping on Ghost's face as she went, she really did.

The rectangular air passage was not roomy at all. In fact, she just barely had enough room to pull and push herself forward with her hands and feet. She couldn't even crawl on her hands and knees. She couldn't turn her head to see if a kitten was following her either. In fact, she almost didn't even have room to breathe, at least it kind of felt like there was no air which was odd in an air duct. It was really dark, too. Her body blocked all the light coming from the hanger behind her.

Luckily, the next vent wasn't far away. In reality it was probably only a few feet on the other side of the door, but it had felt like it was much farther. There was a dim blue light shining through the slats. Her fingers scrambled desperately to find the screws. This time, they were pointed in the opposite direction, so it was more difficult to twist them. She was almost ready to give up and start bashing at it when the first screw came loose and fell with a cheerful pling! on the floor down below. With renewed hope, she went after the other screw. Pling! CLANK! There was no air elemental to pass the vent cover to, this time. Her cramped position meant she had to exit the vent face first. She tried to hang onto the edge with her hands, but they were slippery with sweat from being nervous, and she just ended up tumbling to the ground, landing hard on her posterior.

“Ouch,” she stated to no-one in particular, her voice echoing. As she rubbed her sore back side, she looked around. She was in a short hallway. The doorway was to the left and to the right was the strangest room Katrina had ever seen. The dim blue light that had shown her where she could find the vent illuminated a gigantic sphere room. The hallway continued on, becoming a platform that jutted out into the very center of the sphere with a technothrone at the end.. No wonder it echoed, it was huge! Calley had to see this! Ghost, too!

The aviator hurried back over to the door, and searched for some sort of way to open it. Her hand touched a flat panel and it was scanned by a blue light from top to bottom. It made an unhappy beep, but opened anyway, as if saying “here's the door, now leave”.

She had no intension of leaving just yet. “Ta da! Opened!”

Behind her came a familiar voice. It belonged to Sam Johnson, but for some reason it sounded quieter than normal, almost as if it was hollow. It was also less friendly than normal. Much less friendly. “You're not supposed to be here,” it growled in its semitransparent way.

Katrina spun around, wide eyed. Sure enough, there was Sam walking toward her as if he had just been sitting in the technochair. He was glaring menacingly. Katrina gulped and backed up, then froze again when she remembered that the electric pit trap was still back there behind her. “Oh hi there,” she stammered stupidly. “You're looking kind of, umm, see through today.” Why was he see through?

What kind of adventurer would he be if he didn’t follow his team leader into the Epic Vent Grating of Black Metal Doom? Not the first one to the treasure, that was what kind. As the team’s new Rogue, Calley couldn’t sit lightly for that. He tried to avoid putting claw holes in his First Retainer’s shirt as he followed, he really did.

A venting system is much more roomy for a much more cat-like cat. He padded along lightly behind her, resisting the urge to bat at her feet. Oh, but they were so footful...

Fortunately, there was soon something shiny to distract his attention. The small ‘ouch’ from below his venty perch hardly distracted from it. The entire room... shiny. The walls... shiny. The bridge to nowhere... shiny. The seat on the bridge... shiny. The ghost of CS past...

...Not so shiny?

“You do not have the security clearance for this area,” the hologram was insisting now. It took a menacing step towards Aviator Kat. That, friends, would not do.

With a mighty lung and a lion-like flop, the catty cat landed with all four paws fully clawed on CS’ head—

--Collar bone?

--Spleen?

--The floor, with a mighty flailing of limbs to still land upright, 6’0” below its intended target, its fur foofed a good 0’6” further from its body.

“I don’t think he’s real,” the little white cat with black spots here and there sagely pointed out, as he sat in the X-Ghost-(but not that Ghost’s) shoe. “Does he have a remote control?” Because that would be awesome.

It wasn't all bad being ladder and stepping stool for the small ones. Her face may regret that later, but for now Ghost smoothed her hair and wrung her hands until Kat managed to open the door with a ta-dah! She went from worried to clapping in a matter of moments.

A ghost of Sam chided her for being there and then it was Calley's turn to pounce and save Kat! Except apparently she didn't need all that much saving. He wasn't real, he'd said. Ghost hugged the doorway and slipped past the still open trap. She ended up on the walkway of the large, cavernous room and with so much to look at, the ghost of Sam was almost forgettable.

"You're not supposed to be here." He repeated. His voice was tinny and echoed in the large space.

Ghost waved her hand through his abdomen. No doubt countless numbers of people had wanted to do the same to her, but had been too polite to try it. "Why can't we be here, See-through Sam?"

"You do not have sufficient clearance to enter the premises."

Ghost frowned. Really? "Who does?"

The ghost of Sam flickered. "Classified." Figured.

"Computer, end program." A chirrup sounded like in the danger room before ghost Sam disappeared all together. Well, she had sufficient clearance to turn off the welcoming committee, but not to be here? That seemed silly.

Ghost marched in her leather X-suit and bare feet down to the end of the catwalk... which, was a strangely appropriate term considering her company. The room was circular in shape. As if that weren't strange enough the only walking space was this platform that ended just about in the middle of the sphere. The only thing at the end of the walk-way was a control panel of sorts and a dorky looking hat, but she didn't see anything recognizable.

There was a whole lot o security to keep this nerdy hat safe. Maybe someone was ashamed of their fashion choice. And if there were cameras every where in this room, maybe it really was a fashion walkway...

The holographic Sam was defeated with a pounce and a command. He didn't even swing a holographic ice sword at them or anything. Katrina decided that if she was ever in charge of school security, she would make things a little harder to break into than this. What if someone figured out that the security was this lame and just waltzed right in here to steal the X-wing or the silvery hair styling chair with all the crazy tubes sticking out of the hat thing? Though, why anyone would want this contraption, Katrina couldn't be sure.

“What do you think this thing is? Has it got an owner's manual or anything?” Katrina followed Ghost down the catwalk so she could also examine the silver chair. There was a book about a chair like this that possessed a prince until some children from another world found him and helped him destroy it. Her father had read it to her a long time ago, she remembered. This chair didn't look like it belonged in a fantasy story though, it belonged more in the science fiction drama. It was clearly a device of some kind; it had dials and controls on it, but none of them were labeled.

“Maybe it's a really big movie screen. You sit in the chair, and the picture surrounds you so that you are actually in the movie. The helmet is where the speakers are, and the knobs control the volume. Maybe.” If that were the case, why were there not more chairs and movie nights every Friday? Katrina contemplated sitting in it, to see if it started up, but her backside was still sore from landing on it when she fell out of the vent and sitting didn't sound very comfortable at the moment.