The first time had been a coincidence, just another throw away joke in a long line. The second was a wake up call. By the third… well, by the third time, they had things well in hand.
The Price of Liberty
Mystery Incorporated was on the move. Not that they ever stopped, really, but once again, they were travelling.
Being (extremely) well seasoned travellers, when they stopped for the night in the middle of nowhere, with no sign of a motel in sight, it wasn't the first time. Or the second. It was routine, the way they folded down the seats they could, pulled sleeping bags and pillows from the compartment under the floor of the back, and settled in for a slightly uncomfortable night. They had roughed it before. They knew exactly what to expect: Fred and Scooby's snoring, Daphne's cuddling with whoever happened to be closest (usually Fred), Shaggy's occasional fits of restlessness, and Velma's tendency to mutter equations in her sleep.
Unfortunately, the proximity alarm going off at two thirty-seven in the morning was familiar as well.
-0-
Ralph Washbourne awoke to find himself hogtied on the cold ground. It was still night out, the stars high and the moon full.
It took him a moment to figure out what was happening. That was right: he'd been tracking Mystery Incorporated, and after they'd fallen asleep, he'd…
"Ralph Washbourne."
Ralph looked up in surprise at the sound of his name. The team of five stood slightly apart from him, looking eerie in the night light. The one who'd spoken was Daphne Blake, looking prim and put together, despite the awful hour.
Then again, so did the others. Eyes flicking from one to the next, he could see they all looked serious. Stoic. Even the dog.
"The Whale-man," Daphne continued. "Arrested six years ago for theft. Released on parole two weeks ago."
"Looks like you've broken that," Shaggy Rogers commented next to her. "Came after us nearly immediately."
Ralph snarled at that. "Of course I did, you stupid brats! You ruined my life-what's another few years in jail, if I get my revenge on you?"
The five exchanged glances, loaded with something he couldn't identify.
"I suppose that's that, then," Velma Dinkley said, voice soft, but with something harder underneath. She turned on her heel and headed into the shadows, quickly vanishing from Ralph's sight.
"Go ahead," Ralph laughed. "Call the police. See if I care. The others will treat me like a king after finding out my second arrest was for going after you!"
"The police?" Scooby Doo asked, arching an eyebrow. It was an odd expression to see on a dog.
"Velma's not calling the police," Fred Jones agreed, shaking his head. "Really, did you think you were the first to try and come after us?"
Ralph frowned at that. He'd heard of the disaster in Transylvania that had very nearly succeeded, but that had been ridiculously over complicated for his tastes. It was much better to do something simpler, something quiet and over with quickly. Outside of that attempt, though, he had to admit, he'd heard nothing.
"You're not the first," Daphne agreed. "You're not even the first to try and ambush us at night."
"There have been others," Shaggy agreed. "Of course, after Fred, like, installed the proximity sensor in the Mystery Machine, they don't get very far."
Ralph's mind worked furiously as he tried to put things together. "But then-"
"Then it's curious you haven't heard about it?" Fred finished. "Not really."
There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Ralph soon saw the Dinkley girl emerge from the shadows, a duffle bag hanging from her shoulder. She stopped just in front of the others before setting down the bag and unzipping it.
"If I remember correctly, Mr. Washbourne, you were always rather fond of explosives," Velma said conversationally as she began removing items from the bag. "Homemade C4 bombs, with an old mechanical alarm clock as the timer. I studied them when we first caught you, you see. They were well done-not the best I've seen, but well done, for an amature."
Ralph swallowed as she first slipped on a pair of latex gloves, before laying a cloth over the ground and methodically removing several familiar tools, an alarm clock, wire, and what appeared to be a brick of clay wrapped in plastic.
No way.
No fucking way.
"You see, Mr. Washbourne, after the first couple times, we've made sure to stay up to date on everyone we've ever put away," Daphne explained. "It's not hard. We have a lot of friends in law enforcement. Some people, after they're released, go back to living productive lives. We don't care about that."
"But we do care when someone disappears shortly after release," Fred added. "That's something we always keep an eye on."
"Like, when that happens, we know it's time to pack a bag," Shaggy finished, nodding towards where Velma was expertly stripping the rubber coating from the end of several cut wires.
"It's not easy to arrange accidents," Daphne said with a pleasant smile. "We really have to put in more work than you'd think."
"You… you kids…" Ralph's heartbeat was beginning to pick up. "You're not really…"
"Blowing us up was a good plan," Velma told him. "It's a shame that your bomb went off a little early."
"That's not… I mean, you're not murderers! You're mystery solvers, for God's sake!"
"It wasn't us who turned us into killers," Shaggy commented, voice surprisingly light for such a heavy topic. "We never wanted to be. But when people come after you, and when they plan to keep doing so… well, you learn to, like, adapt."
Ralph looked around desperately, hoping against hope to find some way to escape. But there was nothing near him, only the car he'd used to get here behind him and out of reach.
"How much longer, Velm?" Daphne asked.
"Just a few minutes," Velma answered, still focused wholly on her work.
"Time to set up, then," Fred commented, leaning down to remove a box of latex gloves from the duffle. He passed them out to the others, before he and Shaggy approached Ralph. Each of them took an arm and lifted, and Ralph found himself being carried to the car. Daphne opened it, holding it open while the other two arranged him into a sitting position and buckled the seatbelt.
"Safety first," Fred added. It wasn't a malicious comment, but it still felt like one.
"No, wait," Ralph pleaded. "There has to be something you want! I have friends, friends with power, money, whatever you ask for! I won't tell anyone about this, I swear! I won't!"
"What we want, Mr. Washbourne, is security," Shaggy said. "Security from you and anyone else that might, like, try something. Unfortunately, it looks like there's only one way to do that."
"If enough of you disappear, hopefully the message will start to get around," Fred agreed. "Eventually, they'll stop. And then, then, we can be safe."
"But in the meantime, we'll do what we have to," Shaggy concluded. "Like this."
Velma came up behind them, a newly assembled bomb in hand. "Done. Where…?"
"Passenger seat floor," Fred determined after a moment. "It's where I'd hide it."
Nodding, Velma opened the passenger side door and slid the makeshift bomb underneath it. "I'm setting it for three minutes. That's long enough to clear the blast zone."
"Sound's good," Daphne agreed, stripping off her gloves. "We'll have to drive a ways away."
"And burn the duffle," Velma added. "It'll smell like explosives. I hate when bombers come after us. It's such a pain to clean up after."
"Wait," Ralph tried again.
"It's been nice to see you again, Mr. Washbourne," Fred said, ignoring his plea as Velma finished setting the timer and shut the passenger door. "We won't be meeting a third time."
With that, they all turned and left, even the dog. Gloves were placed in the duffle as they zipped it up and quickly vacated the area.
"Wait, please!" Ralph shouted after them. "Please, no, I don't want to… I don't want to…"
They were already gone.
There was nothing he could do. Even if he could get his hands untied (which he couldn't, who ever tied the knot had really known what he was doing), there was no way to stop the bomb in time. Not with the slightly adjusted design the Dinkley girl had used. He had seen it well enough to tell that. And at this point, there was no possibility he could get out of the blast area.
There was nothing to do but close his eyes.
Close his eyes and listen to the clock run down.
-0-
"Mystery Incorporated?"
Fred blinked blearily, looking messy as he opened the back of the Mystery Machine. Behind him, Shaggy groaned and rolled away from the light, and Scooby covered his eyes.
Outside stood a police officer, holding a notebook.
"Yes, that's us," Fred agreed, blinking quickly. "Is something wrong, officer?"
"Someone set off a bomb about ten miles from here," the officer explained. "It happened early this morning, around four. You folk hear anything last night?"
"No, I don't think so." Fred shook his head, as though to clear it. "Though we were all pretty tired last night. Driving until two, hoping to find a motel. Nothing in the area."
"Yeah, it's pretty deserted," the officer agreed. "Anyone else?"
"Gang?" Fred asked, looking back into the van.
"I did wake up a bit around that time," Daphne said after a moment, looking like she was thinking hard. "I didn't think I heard anything, though. I just went back to sleep."
"Was anyone hurt?" Velma asked.
"Looks like one guy was killed, but we think it was him who had the bomb in the first place," the officer admitted. "We've identified him as Ralph Washbourne, a known bomb maker."
"Washbourne," Shaggy mused. "That sounds familiar, doesn't it? Washbourne… Washbourne…"
"Whale," Scooby said.
"That's right, Scoob!" Shaggy agreed, snapping his fingers in recollection. "He was the Whale-man, a few years back! Haven't heard from him since his arrest."
"Then he might have been targeting you," the officer frowned, jotting in his notepad. "Good to know. Does anyone have anything else to add?"
The five exchanged thoughtful glances.
"I don't think so, officer," Velma frowned.
"We're just on our way to a job in Kettle Hills," Fred added. "A zombie's haunting a cemetery, apparently."
The officer snorted. "Right. That sounds pretty par for the course for you kids." He dug in his pocket and removed a business card. "You think of anything, let me know."
"Sure thing," Fred agreed, taking the card. He immediately passed it to Daphne, who hunted around for her purse to put it in. "Anything else?"
"Nah, you're free to go. And good luck with the zombie thing."
"Thanks, officer," Daphne said with a smile. "You wouldn't happen to know where the nearest town was, would you? We got a bit lost, and…" She trailed off.
"No problem. Take this road for another… say, twenty minutes, then turn left at the crossroads. Another half hour and you're there. Place is called Little Mill. You're only a few hours from Kettle Hills, too."
"Thanks so much," Fred said, grinning. "We'll get out of here right away. Wouldn't want to get in the middle of your investigation, after all. Death isn't really our thing."
"You kids take care now," the officer said, before heading for his car, parked just behind the Mystery Machine.
Fred shut the back doors.
Everyone exchanged a glance, this one much more serious, but didn't say anything. By mutual agreement, they never spoke of what they had to do those nights.
"Well, we have directions," Shaggy finally said. "Like, let's get going."
"Right," Fred agreed, climbing over the front seat. "You guys good to put the bags away?"
"Of course," Daphne agreed, as they began to do so. Fred checked the mirror as he started the van and pulled out onto the road again.
"The sooner we're back in a town, the sooner my computer can get on wifi, and start getting information about this next case," Velma added.
"And the sooner we eat," Scooby put in cheerfully.
"Then let's get going, gang," Fred grinned. "We've got another mystery on our hands!"
Fin
"The Price of Liberty" is kind of dark. Something with that sort of title always will be, though. The title is inspired by the Benjamin Franklin quote, "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety." In this case, the gang would have to give up the freedom of moving around to be safe from these wackos. Unwilling to give that up, they find their own way of protecting themselves.
This is also partly inspired by the Scooby Doo direct to video movie, "Frankencreepy". It's a great story, but if you look at it, really look at it, it's one of the darkest Scooby Doo stories out there (discounting the whole of the Mystery Incorporated show, which IS NOT FOR CHILDREN despite the Y7 rating). There's no thievery, or fraud, or kidnapping. There is a conspiracy to KILL MYSTERY INC. That is the whole of the plan. (Also, Velma goes psychotic, which is sort of played for laughs, but that's seriously not cool.)
Keeping with the idea of former foes of the gang coming back and seeking revenge, it seemed like an interesting thought to see what happens with someone else coming back, not with a convoluted plan, but just for revenge. How would the gang react? What could they actually do? If it kept happening, what was the best way for them to ensure it would stop?
This is the result of that line of questioning.
Maybe I should stop asking questions like that.
That being said, instead of using one of the old villains, Ralph Washbourne is a totally fictional villain. I made up the Whale-man, as well. Seriously, I just used a random animal generator, and it spat out whale, so that's what that was. Any resemblance to any actual Scooby Doo villain is totally coincidental (but frankly there have been so many at this point, who knows?).
I'd say there's quite a bit of the SDMI characterization sneaking in for the gang, but I think that's as much the serious situation as it is my love of that incarnation. They're not going to start screaming and running in this sort of scenario. SDMI is really one of the only times you see the gang in serious, dangerous, and actually deadly situations (where people do die, as opposed to only the threat of it), and the gang does rise to the occasion, becoming serious and very competent. Quite a bit of this shines through in this fic (though Fred is not nearly as oblivious as that particular incarnation).
That's all I have to say.
Until next time.