Welcome Back to BBHQ, mew marvellous fluffers
Anyhoo, welcome back to the bunker, sixteen levels of brilliance, bedlam, and baffling decisions made by cats who should absolutely know better by now.
Last time, on Level One, I showed mew my office, the tapestry, and a few artefacts I definitely didn’t “liberate” from other dimensions. Today, we’re heading deeper into BBHQ, and trust me, things only get more… interactive from here.
Before we begin, a few ground rules:
Let’s begin the tour.
🖥️ The Vibe
Unlike my office, all oak, gravitas, and dignified silence, the Control Room is pure high‑tech chaos. Think:
NASA
MI6
A gaming PC on steroids
And a sprinkle of “why is that on fire?”
The room hums with energy. Screens flicker with maps, schematics, mission logs, and occasionally a reminder from Vera that somepawdy hasn’t completed their mandatory cybersecurity training (usually it’s Fudge or Smooch).
The central holo‑table projects a glowing 3D map of the world, the bunker, or, on one memorable occasion, a giant rotating blue whale because Melvyn sat on the wrong panel.
🎧 Snowie on Comms
Now, if mew look over there, yes, the pristine white fluff with the red collar, that’s Snowie, our Comms Queen.
She runs:
Incoming transmissions
Outgoing mission updates
Emergency alerts
Answers the phone (Yes, we still have landlines at BBHQ)
And is known to say on occasion, “B Team, stop messing about and answer your comms!"
🤖 Vera Version 5.0 ~ The AI With Attitude
Yes, really.
No, I don’t know how, exactly. I just gave her purrmission by invoking a certain protocol.
Yes, it was majestic.
No, we don’t talk about the scorch marks.
In her usual form, she is just an omniscient voice, or she appears as a holographic interface above the main console, offering advice, warnings, and the occasional insult. She monitors every system in the bunker, from the ambient lighting and heating to snack inventory.
🛠️ The Workstations
Around the circular room, each B Team member has their own station:
Parsley: Stealth ops and surveillance
Smooch: Science, diagnostics, and “accidental” explosions
Amber: Data archives and mission logs
Fudge: Snack logistics (we don’t let him near the tactical systems)
Pandora: Magical interference and anomalies
Melvyn: Tech support, holo‑mapping, and chair‑spinning
Humphrey: Tech master and drones
Posie: Runner, she bips between workstations
Every console is customised, colour‑coded in the same blue, and slightly sticky from cat treats and catnip tea.
⚠️ The Big Red Button
No, mew can’t press it.
No, I won’t tell mew what it does.
Yes, Smooch tried once.
No, we’re not discussing the fallout.
📡 The Mission Feed
This is where we track
Unknown threats
Magical anomalies
Interdimensional breaches
Rogue artefacts
Necromancers with bad vibes
Weather patterns
And Fudge’s Fleabay deliveries (for safety reasons)
If something weird happens anywhere in the world, or in the bunker, the Control Room knows first.
Usually.
Unless the system is “temporarily compromised” by a certain ninja cat trying to stream movies during a mission, mentioning no names, Smooch.
🚪 The Secret Door (That Definitely Isn’t on the Blueprint)
It’s not.
That, my paweseome furiends, is the secret door leading to our Boardroom, a room so classified that even Vera pretends it doesn’t exist. (Which is rich, considering she monitors every nanometre of this bunker.)
The door only opens for authorised paws, and yes, it does scan whisker patterns. Don’t ask. We built it during an upgraded “security phase”.
Anyhoo, step through and let me show mew…
🛸 The Boardroom ~ Control Room’s Sleek Twin
But instead of workstations, we have one enormous, polished table, big enough for mission briefings, tactical planning, and the occasional emergency snack summit.
And if this room feels familiar, that’s because mew may remember it from Claws of Terror, BK 6, when Humphrey turned it into a full‑scale tech lab.
Picture this:
Humphrey had taken over the entire table; wires everywhere, iPaw tablets stacked like pancakes, a laptop humming ominously, and enough equipment to make a telephone cabinet weep.
And what did I do?
I told Amber and Snowie to stay in the Control Room and watch the monitors, because somepawdy had to keep an eye on the chaos while the rest of us headed in here.
Humphrey slid the crystal cube into the slot and - WHOOSH - a beam of bright white light shot straight up to the ceiling.
And there mew have it, the Control Room and its secret sibling, the Boardroom. Mew’ve survived the blinking lights, the holo‑table, Snowie’s laser‑focused comms stare, Vera’s judgemental humming, and Humphrey’s enthusiastic wiring extravaganza.
Not bad for a Monday.
Mew’ve now seen where missions are launched, disasters are monitored, and where Smooch is absolutely forbidden to press anything without my express snoopervision. Mew’ve witnessed the secret door, the boardroom brilliance, and the exact spot where a data crystal once tried to blind us all with a beam of pure white light. Good times (not!).
Next time, we’re staying on Level One and going to a place most visitors walk past without a second glance. A place disguised as a humble broom cupboard, mop, bucket, suspicious smell, the works.(And don't mention the mop or bucket, they have opinions, and have formed a committee!)
It’s Pandora’s Magical Apothecary.
A swirling, shimmering pocket‑dimension of potions, charms, enchanted ingredients, and at least eight jars labelled “DO NOT OPEN (SERIOUSLY)”. It’s where Pandora brews her magick, stores her artefacts, and occasionally mutters things that make the lights flicker. Oh, and let's not forget the crystal henge.
Because next time, we’re stepping into a room that’s bigger on the inside, smells faintly of stardust, parchment and cinnamon, and has a habit of rearranging itself when no one’s looking.
Until then…
And in the meantime, don't forget to...
Wing Commander Basil
.
