"Maybe I can shoot the lock off." Trinity aimed her pistol idly at the door handle.
"No! Don't!" Velma protested. "See, Carrie? There's a wire running through the inside of the lock. I think it's a pressure sensor."
"And knowing our friend Mr. Wilson, the other end is connected to four pounds of plastic explosive in the door frame. Wonderful."
"Explosive?!" Scooby retreated deeper into the file cabinet.
"Like, don't shoot, Carrie!" Shaggy shouted.
Trinity sighed and thumped the door with the heel of her hand. "There has to be a way out of here. This stupid place is nothing but secret passages. This can't be the only room without one!"
"Oh, it's hopeless!" Shaggy wailed. "We'll never get out of here!" And he sat down in the huge leather chair at the desk, throwing his weight down hard. The back of the chair fell into a nearly-horizontal position and a mechanical sound filled the air. As it did, the bookshelf opened like an elevator door, revealing a dimly-lit passage beyond.
"Shaggy! You did it!" Trinity pulled him to his feet. "Hang on!" she interjected as the teens made to enter the passage. Gun in hand, she peered down the hall, first one direction, then the other. "All right. Stay close together, everyone."
"Is it really so dangerous in here, Carrie?" Velma asked curiously.
"It's even worse than that." She was transfixed by something that appeared to be a hand-painted portrait of the Merovingian on the wall. It was hard to tell, since it looked like the artist had used his sleeve instead of a brush. "The writing is on the wall . . ."
"Say what?"
"Never mind. Let's go this way."
"Is that, like, the way back to the club?"
"Maybe. Wait, did you hear something?"
"No," said Scooby.
"No," said Velma.
"No," said Shaggy.
"Yes," said one of the twins.
He was approaching them from behind, three exile minions in tow, white overcoat billowing behind him. The twin was not visibly armed, but two of the exiles were carrying shotguns. He smiled like an escaped mental patient.
"Zoinks! It's ol' creepy! And he brought friends!" The twin broke into a jog.
"Run!" Shaggy and Scooby needed no encouragement, and they took off down the hall. Velma hesitated for a moment as Trinity backed away from the exiles, raising her gun.
"Carrie, are you coming? What are – "
"Velma, RUN!" The girl in the orange sweater turned and ran as Trinity opened fire. The twin ducked to his left side, his right arm shimmering and becoming translucent. Two bullets passed through his shoulder, catching one of the shotgun-wielding minions in the throat.
Further down the hall, Shaggy and Scooby heard the sound of gunfire and ducked instinctively into a doorway. Velma tore around the corner as though all the ghosts of all the Indians were chasing her.
"Velma! What's going on! Where's Carrie?"
"She went in one of the other doors. I think she lost him. Hey . . . where are we?"
Judging by the utensils scattered all over the tables, the large silver refrigerators, and the stove in the corner, they were in the kitchen.
"We're in the kitchen!" Scooby licked his lips excitedly.
"About time!" Shaggy exclaimed. "I haven't eaten since 1975." He pulled open the refrigerator, choosing a juicy-looking steak and setting it on the counter.
"You two and your appetite," Velma laughed. "Carrie told me to find her in the VIP dining room. I think it's through there." She exited through a door at the far end of the kitchen while they fired up the stove and Scooby rifled through a cabinet of salad dressing bottles.
"We've got everything to make my Aunt Sophia's world-famous steak sauce!" Shaggy announced. "Tartar sauce, mayonnaise, and – the best part of all – cream cheese."
Someone pushed the door open, and Shaggy jumped so high he almost reached the ceiling before realizing it wasn't the ghost again. Instead, he found himself looking at a woman in a brightly-colored peasant-style dress and a red bandana.
"Hello there," she greeted him, her voice low and smoky and slightly French-accented. "What are you doing?"
Shaggy smiled nervously. "We're making steak. Would you like some?"
She leaned over to examine their setup, and her long black hair shimmered in the dim fluorescent light. "Hmm. I like steak. You are making your own sauce, too?"
"Yes, ma'am! It's my aunt's patented recipe, and . . ."
The Frenchwoman was standing close enough for him to smell her perfume. She reached around and took a gentle hold of his elbow in one smooth hand and the bowl in the other. "It looks delicious. But you should stir it a little slower. Like this."
"Like . . . this?" Shaggy gulped.
"Yes. You see, if you use a long, circular motion, so you scrape it off the sides of the bowl – keep moving smoothly, now! – it . . ." She leaned in and whispered the last words, her breath hot on his ear. ". . . seals the flavor in."
"You guys, I found Carrie!" Velma burst through the door at the far end of the kitchen, Trinity close behind. "You should have been there! She did a flip off the wall and kicked this guy right in the – what are you doing?"
They stopped short, taking in the nervous-looking Shaggy and the woman's long flowing hair and long flowing arms. "Jinkies! Get a room, you two!"
"Velma! I was – look out! It's the ghost!" The pale man in sunglasses was indeed standing right behind her, leaning forward to eye Scooby's salad.
Scooby abandoned his salad tongs and made a dash for the door, Velma and Trinity close behind. Shaggy followed, nearly dragging his new friend off her feet. The twin vaulted over the table close behind them.
"Hey!" the Frenchwoman shouted. "We were making steak sauce!"
"Come on, kids!" Trinity ordered. Shaggy and Scooby led the way as they tore down the hall, scattering tapestries and broken shards that had once been expensive vases in their wake. The twin barely noticed, either jumping over obstacles or turning insubstantial as they neared him.
"We can't lose him!" Shaggy exclaimed. "It's hopeless!"
"You can make it, Shaggy," Trinity exhorted. "Free your mind!"
"The door!" Velma pointed ahead. "I think that's where we came in!"
"Gangway!" Scooby flung himself at the door, front paws extended like a battering ram. Just a moment before he reached it, the door opened. Shaggy tried to stop, failed, tripped, and was vaguely aware of Scooby knocking Fred and Daphne to the floor.
"What are you guys doing?" Fred asked unsteadily.
"Anybody get that truck's license plate?" Neo said, helping them to their feet.
"Watch out! The Indian ghost's right behind us!" Velma pointed back down the hall, where the twin was dodging Trinity's bullets.
"But . . . he's on the top floor! We saw him!" Daphne pointed over Neo's shoulder, where the other twin and the Merovingian were descending the stairs. Scooby dived for cover under the stage as two hostile pairs of eyes swept over the little group.