Half an hour from midnight, Club Hel was alive with music, merriment, and stylishly-dressed people on roller skates. They swirled like a meteor shower around a massive mirror ball hanging, higher than it looked, above the middle of the dance floor. The band was in the middle of a lively disco tune, and at a nearby table Shaggy and Scooby were attacking their twelfth serving of garlic bread.

"This is great, Scoob! A guy could get used to this!"

"Yeah!" Scooby-Doo's reply was muffled by about half a loaf.

They barely looked up as Fred and Mary Sue hurtled off the dance floor and into two empty chairs, laughing uproariously. "I didn't know you could skate, Freddy!"

"I've been skating every day after school for years, Mary Sue." He started untying the laces on his roller skates. "Hey, Shaggy, Scooby, where are the girls?"

"Like," Shaggy mumbled, "they're still skating."

"Well, they'd better get back before the countdown starts!" Fred exclaimed. "It's only 1976 once!"

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be here." Mary Sue pulled her skates off and took a piece of the garlic bread. "If you guys like this place, just wait until my father's club on 43rd Street re-opens. My parents are in Long Island until next year, so I'm going to be the general manager!" She reached into her purse and came back with a large red key, which she waved at the others.

"Congratulations!" said Fred.

Just as he got his skates off, he noticed a middle-aged man in a leather jacket skating directly towards them. Belatedly, Fred realized that the reason for this was that Daphne was next to him on one side and Velma on the other, arms linked with his.

"Oh, my!" he laughed in a mild French accent. "Thank you, ladies. I fear I never quite got the hang of these crazy wheeled shoes!"

"Fred, Shaggy, Scooby," Velma said, "Mary Sue, this is Mr. Wilson."

"He's the owner of Club Hel!" Daphne added.

"How are you?" Mr. Wilson asked. "Having fun? Everything to your liking?"

"Like, totally!" Shaggy managed to interject between bites.

"Yeah!" Scooby added.

"It really is a lovely party, Mr. Wilson," Velma said.

He smiled warmly. "Good, good. Such fine young ladies . . . and gentlemen, are always welcome here! Now, enjoy yourselves. And make sure to have your New Year's resolutions handy. It will be 1976 before you know it!" Not bothering to take his skates off, he shuffled uneasily towards the stairs to the upper floor.

"Well," said Fred, "you guys look like you had fun."

"Yeah," Daphne replied. "It's a little crowded out there, though."

Velma maneuvered towards a chair on the far side of the table and sat down. "Hey, Mary Sue, what's with the key?" She glanced over her shoulder briefly as a man and woman in long black overcoats and sunglasses brushed past her.

"The club is reopening next month," she repeated. "And you're looking at the new general manager!"

"Wow!" said Daphne.

"Your life really will be a non-stop party now," Velma added.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the band leader spoke into his microphone. "There's only fifteen minutes left in 1975, so you'd all better enjoy them! This next song is for Little Oprah, from Skittles . . ."

There were only a few tables on Club Hel's upper level, but a lot of people who were too cool, too important, or too bad at skating to be downstairs. It was darker up there, as the spotlights and the mirror ball only reached the area indirectly, and the shadows on the wall were almost as dark as Neo and Trinity's coats.

"Something is very wrong here," said Neo.

"You don't have to tell me," Trinity muttered.

The people who were too cool, too important, or too bad at skating parted instinctively as they approached, and they marched unchallenged to the largest table in the upper level. At the main place set there, a middle-aged man in a leather jacket was trying to untie a knot in his roller skate's shoelaces. Several men in dark suits and sunglasses sat at the table, and directly behind him stood two imposing figures in white coats with identical silver-gray dreadlocks. Their faces betrayed no emotion, but one of them took his hands out of his pockets as Neo and Trinity approached.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything," Trinity said caustically.

The Merovingian started momentarily, then slowly and deliberately set his foot down on the floor, with the knot still in the laces. "Well, well, well," he said smoothly, "look at what the cat dragged in. You both have some nerve, considering what happened the last time you were here." One of the twins smiled grimly.

"I guess we're just not as smart as you," Trinity quipped.

"No, you are not," the Merovingian smirked, "but that is quite another matter. Let us skip the preliminaries, hm? Why are you here? What crime do you accuse me of now?"

"The Oracle told us – " Neo began to answer.

"What are you talking about?" The Merovingian pulled savagely at his roller skate, finally undoing the knot. "If you want to listen to fairy tales on your own time, that is your business, boy. But don't come in here bothering me about them." A couple of the men in dark suits turned in their seats and sniggered.

"I don't know what exactly you're playing at here," Trinity said ominously, "but you're not going to get away with it."

The Exile leader rose deliberately from his seat, straightening his jacket. "You are just lucky," he snapped, "that this is a special occasion. Yes, lucky. But I'm not about to let you spoil the party for my guests." He gestured expansively at the dance floor, the mirror ball, and the lively disco beat.

Silence fell over the table again. The Merovingian sat down, and the one twin put his hands back in his pockets. "So . . . what now?" Neo asked, as much of himself as anyone else.

"What indeed?" the Merovingian replied facetiously.

"Are we just going to stand here all night?" Trinity demanded.

"Perhaps if you – oh, wait. It's time for the countdown!" He clapped his hands excitedly, and most of the people on the upper floor, including several of the men in dark suits, pulled noisemakers out of their pockets. Neo raised an eyebrow quizzically. The entire club came to a halt and the lights came down to the bare minimum for visibility.

"Ten!" announced the band leader.

"Nine!" exclaimed the Merovingian.

"Eight!" Fred cheered.

"Seven!" Daphne clapped her hands.

"Six!" Velma shouted.

"Five!" Scooby wagged.

"Four!" Shaggy brandished the end of the last loaf of garlic bread.

"Three," one of the twins said impassively.

"Two?" Trinity sounded genuinely confused.

"ONE!" A gigantic roar rose from the dance floor as a banner fluttered down from the rafters, proclaiming "Happy New Year!" in gigantic letters.

The band struck the first notes of Auld Lang Syne, the men in dark suits blew their noisemakers, and at precisely midnight, every light in Club Hel went out.