*Stupid, stupid, stupid* Trace said, as she continually slapped her forehead with her palm. She knew better than to do what she had done. What was she now? A level one op? No, she was much smarter than that. But, as the evidence would attest to, not as smart as she gave herself credit for.

After a half hour in North's office, receiving the dressing down of a life time, she could only shake her head in disbelief. Sure, she knew that the closet was off limits. Sure, she knew the risks that were apparent and plainly spelled out for anyone that encroached upon said closet. But, did she heed the warnings? But of course not!!

And now, on her first Saturday off in what has to be a lifetime, she was designated the *honor*, as North put it, of cleaning the tower. It wasn't bad enough that she was being punished, but this was cruel and inhuman. She just knew that she could talk her way out of it, in the end. Anything, anything she was willing to do, but venture into the wasteland known as the tower. But, North would not listen, and all the mewwing in the world fell on deaf ears.

Birky told her that she had the next hour and a half, until 4pm, to do what she was sentenced to do, then get out. It was rumored that Ops had a little rendevous planned at that time, and Trace wanted to make sure she was anywhere but near here when that time came.

So, with bag in hand, and her hands covered in rubber gloves, Trace stood at what she could only call the gates of hell. The untranversable void...the unfathomable depths...the door that opened into the mouth of Hades. To put it quite plainly, she was standing in front of the entrance to the tower.

With a deep breath, to steady herself, and a shiver running through her body, she places her hand on the door, and slowly turns the knob. Her last thoughts, as she moved over the threshold were, *get me out of this, and I will NEVER go near North's closet again*. Then, moving into the room, Trace could only shiver, as the door clanged securely shut behind her.

~~~> < ~~~ > < ~~~ > < ~~~ > < ~~~

After about a half hour, Trace stood in the middle of the room, and surveyed her work. *So far, so good* she thought to herself. The task had not been quite as bad as she had imagined. In fact, it appeared that she would get done well within the time limit she was given. With the exception of a few plates, and articles of clothing, only basic housework seemed to be the call of the day.

Placing her bag on the floor, she took out her comm link and signaled Birkoff.

'Yeah,' he replied, in his usual boyish voice.

'Hey Seymour!!' Trace replied, knowing it would get a rise out of him.

'Now what Trace?' he replied, a little tone of exasperation in his voice.

'I was just checking in. Seems I am going to get the tower done well before the four o'clock deadline. Great huh?' Trace said, the tone of pride more than evident in her voice.

'What? What do you mean BEFORE the deadline? I told you to not start cleaning the tower until AFTER four!!' Birky replied, a slight tone of agitation in his voice.

'No. If you will recall...you said I had till four to get it done, remember?' Trace replied

'No. If you had been able to keep your head out of the Dorito bag long enough, you would have heard that I said you don't have to head UP to the tower till around four. You have got to get out of there NOW!!' Birky yelled, his voice edged with fear.

'Don't sweat it Seymour. I will just pick up my handy dandy bag, and scoot on out of...'

Before Trace could finish, she heard someone turning the doorknob on the door behind her. Realizing just why Birkoff was so insistant about her getting out of the tower quickly. she looked all around her. Deciding that the best thing to do was to hide, and maybe whoever it was would go away, she opened the door to the nearest closet, and ducked inside.

Hearing the door open, and then swiftly close, she stayed perfectly still. After a few moments, she could hear muffled voices, then the sound of someone crossing the floor. In the next few moments, she heard the sound of slow music waft through the air. Then, the sound of a cork popping on a wine bottle, then the clinging of fine crystal.

Thinking to herself *uh oh*, she bit her lip, and with a moment of bravado, opened the door slightly, to get an idea of what was going on. What she saw next, was undescribable, and would surely scar her for life. All she could do, was close the closet door slightly shut, pull her knees up tightly to her chest, and cover her ears. It was gonna be a long hour.

~~~ > < ~~~ > < ~~~ > < ~~~ > < ~~~ > < ~~~

Descending the staircase to the tower an hour and a half later, Trace appeared to be in a zombified state. Meeting up with Aly and Sylvia in the hallway, she nearly ran them over without seeing them.

'Hey CAT! Ya almost run me over there girl!' Sylvia exclaimed.

Trace only looked at Sylvia, as if not seeing her. Then, when Aly placed her hand on Trace's shoulder, and turned her to her, she noticed the glazed look of Trace's eyes.

'CAT!! What has happened to you?' Aly asked, a concerned look crossing her face.

With all their urging, Sylvia and Aly were not able to get Trace to tell them exactly what was wrong. All she would do was mumble the same words over and over again, laughing a maddening laugh every now and them.

'Tower...Operations....Madeline....closet. Closet is BAD!! VERY BAD!!!'

THE END

This Story ©copyright TRACE >'-'< , 1999