Nate blinked in the sudden light, his eyes adjusting slightly quicker from already being accustomed to the illumination of his flashlight, which he now held almost defensively in front of him. The familiar phrase of “Zoinks” gave him pause. But, unless Shaggy had drunk a potion-gone-wrong and turned into a female, the mouth from which the exclamation came was not one he recognized.
	His left shoulder throbbed slightly where the door had hit him, but he ignored it. He looked down at the brown-eyed woman who had fallen back to the floor, an old, burnt-out electrical box now that much more busted laying not far from her and a table marked with dents, slashes, and a few burn marks. Perhaps [i]”junk room”[/i] would have been a better term for the large space. Shelves lined the walls, each filled mostly with what looked like discarded bits of laboratory equipment, from beakers discolored from use, to the largest cracked telescope lens Nate had ever seen tucked away in a corner, and everything between and beyond.
	“Who the holy hedgehogs are [i]you?[/i]” Nate asked the woman, staring at her with a mix of disappointment and surprise. He had the feeling that, whoever she was, she was [i]not[/i] the one responsible for Mystery Inc.’s disappearance.