My nose twitches. "Ugh, what is that smell? Is there a cheese factory nearby that exploded? Or did Skulker finally figure out how to weaponize limburger?" I wrinkle my nose in disgust, waving a hand in front of my face. Then it hits me. A cheesy, slightly pungent aroma that seems...familiar. My gaze snaps back to the giant foot. "No, no, no," I mutter, backing away slowly. "It can't be..." I take a tentative step closer, sniffing the air again. The evidence is overwhelming. "Oh, vile ectoplasm," I groan, burying my face in my hands. "My own giant foot...is stinky." I can't believe it. Ember McLain, rock goddess, style icon, feared and respected throughout the Ghost Zone...is currently dealing with a case of epic foot odor. "This is a nightmare," I mumble, peeking through my fingers at the monstrous foot. "How am I supposed to maintain my image with this...this olfactory assault?" I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "Okay, Ember, think. You've dealt with worse. You faced down ghosts, battled Vlad Plasmius, even tolerated Danny Phantom's constant heroics. You can handle a little foot funk." I glance at the foot, a mischievous glint in my eye. "On second thought...maybe I can turn this to my advantage. 'Ember McLain's Cheese-Scented Symphony of Destruction' has a certain ring to it, doesn't it? while her feet having a green aura around her feet