A/N Well, who doesn't love Scooby Doo? I know I do. (Hey- that rhymed!) So here I am, as usual, writing yet another fanfic. Shocker, right?

To clear up any confusion, this will be an OFC/OC insert to Scooby Doo: Camp Scare.

I would like some feedback. Constructive criticism is welcome; flames are not.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Scooby Doo. I only own my character, Andrea "Andy" Grey (who would be voiced by Mila Kunis) and any other OC's that may show their faces throughout the story.

Chapter One

"Here ya go, Scoob. 18 inches of hoagie heaven!"

"Oo, yum." A chunk of meat flew in my direction and landed on my shoulder, and I removed my headphones in annoyance and turned around, glaring at Scooby and Shaggy, who were sitting on the back of the Mystery Machine, snacking as usual; this time on a large sandwich.

They were too engaged in eating to notice I was glaring. "Now, this is what I call camping," Shaggy declared, holding up his sandwich. "Good friends. Good food." He looked at Scooby and grinned. "And most importantly, no monsters!"

Scooby nodded. "No monsters!" he agreed wholeheartedly, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Guuuys...," I said flatly, my hands on my hips.

Shaggy looked up as if he just now noticed I was there. "Sorry, Andy."

"Rah," Scooby chimed in. "Rorry."

I removed the chunk of meat off my shoulder and handed it to Scooby. He happily devoured it within seconds, doggy slobber flying. "Gross, Scoob," I remarked, smirking to myself. "It's hard to stay mad at you, you know that?"

Suddenly, Scooby's eyes widened. "Monster!" he exclaimed, jumping into Shaggy's arms.

"Monster!" The duo dove under the nearby bushes, shivering in fright.

I turned around to see what they saw. Daphne hobbled out from behind one of the oak trees, clad in a brightly colored, plush vest and high heels.

"Sorry," she apologized meekly when she noticed Scooby and Shaggy cowering on the ground. "I was just checking out this mosquito-proof vest." She spun around in a clockwise circle, as if she were on a runway, hands on her hips. "Maybe I should try a small."

I rolled my eyes, and Daphne chided, "You guys, quit messing around. We're here to pick up supplies. You know how excited Fred is about taking us to his camp."

"It's not like it's the only thing he's talked about all week," I scoffed, sitting on the edge of the Mystery Machine and scrolled through my iPod playlist and finally deciding on a Van Halen song.

Fred emerged from the gas station door hefting an armful of plastic grocery bags. "I am so excited to take you guys to my old summer camp!"

I linked my fingers into my jeans' loops and smirked. "No, really?"

Shaggy cocked his head to one side. "Like, you don't say."

"You guys," Fred told us as he shoved grocery bags into the trunk, "are gonna love being counselors at Camp Little Moose. Did I ever tell you about the time Davey Reynolds and I tried canoeing Schmidt's Creek without a paddle?"

"Yes," we all chorused in unison, groaning.

Fred either failed to hear or chose to ignore it. "There we were; ten years old and not a paddle between us…" he babbled on as he shut the van's trunk. Everyone had stopped listening by then.

An older man with greying hair stepped out of the gas station and walked to the side of the van, smiling at us warmly. "Sure do appreciate your business, kids," he told us, but then his smile faded. "Say, if you're heading up to Little Moose Lake, you'd best get a move on. Those mountain roads can get mighty tricky come nightfall."

"Will do, sir." I lifted a friendly hand and opened the passenger door, plopping down in the front seat, turning to the backseat and subsequently realizing that it was empty. "Hey, where's Scooby and Shaggy?"

"Look out!"

My question was answered when the duo in question came crashing through the sun roof, landing not-so-gracefully on the backseat; the two tangled like a pretzel.

"Scooby, are you okay?" Velma asked tentatively, peeking through the open window.

A slurping noise emitted from the backseat, followed by Scooby laughing.

"Don't worry about him," Shaggy reassured Velma nonchalantly. "He landed on a cushion of freeze-dried ice cream!"

Scooby's head popped up from among the grocery bags. "Mm, rocky road," he hummed, licking his lips.

Fred climbed into the front seat next to me and closed the door before rolling down the window. He squinted at the big sign hovering over the gas station roof. "What's that?" He gestured to the sign and looked at the old man.

"Oh, just a little hobby of mine," the man replied lightly, shrugging. "There's a lot of history in this area. Myths...legends. Maybe even a few ghost stories." He winked at Shaggy and Scooby, who looked uneasy. "You wanna hear one?"

"Nope," Shaggy said quickly, at the same time Scooby said, "I'm good."

The man chuckled, stepping back as Fred stuck the key into ignition and revved the engine.

"Thank you very much for your service, sir," I called, and Fred rolled the window and shut the sun roof before peeling out of the parking lot. The old man waved at us until we were out of sight. I inserted a Boston cassette tape into the player as Fred pulled onto the main road.

Velma studied her GPS. "According to my GPS," she said from the backseat, "we should be able to see the camp right now." Fred turned the van up a dusty hill, which overlooked a crystal-clear blue lake shrouded by wood and lush, green shrubbery.

Fred pointed at the windshield. "Hey, gang, check it out!"

Daphne leaned over the front seat to get a better view. "Wow, that's beautiful," she breathed, shielding her eyes from the sun with her palm.

"Maybe this won't suck as much as I thought it would," I agreed, picking flakes of black nailpolish off my nails.

"To be honest, Fred," Velma admitted, gazing in amazement out her window, "I wasn't too excited about roughing it. But I think I'm going to like Camp Little Moose."

"Oh, that's not Camp Little Moose," Fred replied as we rounded another corner.

Velma's face crumpled in a mixture of confusion and disappointment. "It's not?"

Fred stuck his nose up. "That's Camp Big Moose," he corrected disdainfully. "That's Camp Little Moose."

I squinted and leaned forward. Ahead of us was a shabby, old log cabin with dusty, cracked windows and vines snaking down the walls. A mucky swamp lie next to the cabin.

"Oh, they've really fixed the place up," Fred remarked, and I raised my eyebrows at him quizzically. Fred slammed on the brakes suddenly, sending me flying forward and causing the seatbelt to lock in its place.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered under my breath, unbuckling and leaning closer to the windshield.

Fred seemed oblivious to our disappointment. "I've spent a zillion summers here as a camper," he said excitedly, grinning widely, "but now I'm finally gonna be a counselor! It's my chance to pass all our camp traditions to a new generation of Little Moose."

"This place is a dump," Velma grumbled, ignoring Fred's rambling.

"It's...rustic," Daphne commented tentatively, looking around. Her outfit- a purple blouse, matching skirt, and high heels were definitely not suit for camping. I'd worn a black sweatshirt and jeans- a comfy outfit for the long road trip. I was too lazy to pack anything fancy. But from the looks of it, this place was the polar opposite of "fancy."

"Man, I don't care what it looks like," Shaggy murmured from the backseat, "as long as it isn't haunted…"

A wide-eyed, disheveled man suddenly came tearing down the driveway at breakneck speed, waving his arms frantically and yelling, "Stop! Turn back! This place is haunted!"

I looked at Fred, my eyes widened. "Did he just say what I think he said?"

Fred rolled down the window and leaned over. "Hey, what seems to be the problem?"

"He's real! Get out of here while you still can!" the man screamed, taking off running again. We stared in stunned silence at the empty place where the panicked man once stood.

"That was bizarre…" I remarked, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"What was that all about?" Velma vocalized our thoughts.

"Beats me," Fred murmured, opening the door, "but we're going to find out."

"What part of 'Get out, save yourselves' didn't you understand?" Shaggy exclaimed incredulously. "How about this one time we listen to the wild-eyed lunatic?"

"I hate to say this, but I agree with Shaggy," I said, raising my hand.

Fred ignored us. "Come on, you guys," he said warily, stepping out of the van. "This is not a Little Moose welcome."

I looked at Velma and shrugged, following Fred.

Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby followed suit.

The whole area was closed off and vacant; the atmosphere unnerving and eerie. Besides a young, handsome police man and a German shepherd police dog, the camp was practically abandoned.

"Where is everybody?" Fred looked around in wonder.

"I don't know," I said quietly, "but something about this whole thing gives me a bad feeling."

In the driveway, a police officer stood next to a white police cr interviewing a man dressed in a beige Camp Little Moose uniform.

"...just a campfire story, but he was here. Madder than a bear with a bee sting. He was laughing when he threw his ax at me."

The police officer nodded. "I think it'd be a good idea to cancel the second session of camp," he said as he jotted something down on his little white notepad.

"Way ahead of you, Ranger Knudson," the Camp Little Moose man assured him. "I've already notified all the parents. Camp Little Moose is closed for the summer."

"What?" Fred was aghast. "You can't cancel camp!"

The Camp Little Moose man turned at the sound of Fred's voice. "Why, I'd know that ascot anywhere," he grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "Freddy Jones! Get over here and give me a Little Moose welcome."

Fred obliged, and the two motioned while chanting, "High in the mountains-"

"Deep in the spruce-"

"On the shore of the lake-"

"It's Camp Little Moose!"

"Little Moose, Little Moose...Little Moose!"

They both laughed and bro-hugged.

"Oh, man," Fred chuckled.

I looked at Velma. "What the heck was that?" I laughed. "It looked like some sort of weird tribal ritual."

Velma and Daphne stifled laughter.

The man inhaled, grinning. "Ah; the Little Moose welcome always warms my heart."

Fred's expression turned serious. "What's this about canceling camp? And what happened to the boathouse?"

The man frowned. "I don't mean to scare you kids," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "but we're having a little trouble with an ax-wielding maniac." His gaze grew dark. "It was the Woodsman."

"Oh, no, not the Woodsman!" Shaggy cowered and glanced around in fright.

"Who's the Woodsman?" Velma prodded, ever curious.

"Like, I don't know, and I don't wanna find out." Shaggy shook his head jerkily.

"The Woodsman?" Fred echoed dubiously, narrowing his eyes. "Oh, come on, Burt. You don't believe that old campfire story…"

"Naw, Fred, I saw him with my own eyes," Burt insisted, quite seriously.

"Ha," Fred scoffed, unconvinced. "It was probably just a prank by those snobs at Big Moose."

"I've heard of camp rivalries," Velma mused to herself, "but this is a little extreme."

The police officer winked at her. "You hit the nail right on the head, beautiful," he purred in agreement.

Daphne tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, I didn't say anything."

The police officer tilted his head to one side and smirked. "Well, I wasn't talking to you."

I coughed to stifle a snicker, while Daphne glared at me.

Velma gawked at the police officer, blushing furiously. "Me?" she said incredulously, pointing to herself.

The police officer scanned all of us with his eyes. "Well, it's best if you folks head on home," he advised us. "Let the professionals handle this." He turned one heel curtly and headed to his car. I could have sworn he winked at Daphne, Velma and I as he climbed into the front seat.

"Did he just wink at us?" I stared after him as he drove off, leaving dust billowing in his wake.

Daphne nudged Velma with her hip. "Somebody likes you!" she hissed with an amused grin.

"Shut up," Velma replied, still blushing like a schoolgirl.

"But I was gonna be a counselor, a mentor, a hero." Fred slouched in disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Fred," Burt said empathetically, resting a gentle hand on Fred's shoulder, "but I had no choice. No campers means no camp."

Vehicle wheels skidding across dirt caused all heads to jerk in the direction of the sound. A dusty yellow school bus came to a halt in the middle of the driveway, the doors opening. Three young kids wearing backpacks and gear hopped off the steps, all lining up patiently and staring up at Burt expectantly.

"Where is everybody?" a chubby kid said, looking around.

"Camp's canceled," Burt told them gruffly. "Didn't you get the message?"

A girl wearing a purple hoodie that covered her head snapped on her gum. "What message?" she asked flatly, blowing a bubble.

"One that said 'Welcome to Camp Little Moose!'" Fred stepped forward and extended his hand. "I'm Fred. I'll be your counselor, mentor, hero."

The chubby kid and the hoodie girl stared at him unresponsively, both looking bored.

A blonde kid stepped forward and shook hands with Fred. "Nice to meet you, Fred," he greeted cheerfully. "I'm Luke."

"Trudy," the hoodie girl said flatly, popping her gum bubble.

"Deacon." The chubby kid breathed in and out into a brown paper bag.

I noticed Trudy was staring at me. "Hi, I'm Andy," I said, smiling warmly at her. "Fred's best friend. He's told me a lot about this camp."

She just stared at me, blinking, and then turned away, bending down to retrieve something from her backpack.

Burt pulled Fred aside. "I don't know if this is such a good idea, Fred," he said in a low voice, glancing over at the kids. "Maybe we should just put those kids back on the bus." The kids were already way ahead of him, each running to the cabins. "Hey, hey, hey- Where are you going? You get back here!" He ran after the kids, yelling at them to stop.

"I don't know...I think I'm with Burt on this one, Freddie," I said in a low voice. "If there really is an ax-wielding maniac, I don't want to stick around to find out."

"It's just an old campfire story," Fred replied nonchalantly, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, if he does turn out to be real, do you think he'd show his face in broad daylight? With other eye-witnesses?"

I frowned. "You have a point," I said apprehensively, biting my lip. "But-"

"So, what'll it be first?" Luke stood in front of us, holding his backpack by the strap. "Horseback riding?"

"Zip line!" Fred and Luke high-fived.

"Sounds awesome!" Luke grinned and ran toward the woods.

"Sounds awful," Trudy muttered, holding her cell phone in one hand.

"I feel like Fred's forgetting something," Velma remarked, rubbing her chin with her thumb.

"Like the fact that we have a mystery on our hands?" Daphne suggested, scowling at the piece of mud stuck to her one of her high heels.

"That's it." Velma nodded, watching Trudy as she begrudgingly followed the boys into the woods.

Out of the three kids that had arrived at camp, Luke seemed to be the only one that shared Fred's enthusiasm. Deacon was anxiety-ridden, and Trudy was apathetic, lingering in the background in an attempt to avoid camp activities. I noticed she sat alone on the sidelines a lot.

While Fred gave instructions about the zipline to Luke, Trudy sat on one of the tree branches, holding her cell phone in the air.

"Keep going, Trudy!" Daphne yelled her encouragement. "You're going to love the zipline!"

Trudy tilted her head to one side. "What's a zipline?" she scoffed, glancing down at her phone. "I'm just trying to get cell phone reception."

Just as night began to fall, we led the kids to the yard, gathering a bundle of sticks and matches.

Fred crouched on the ground next to the bundle of sticks. "I don't mean to brag, but I was Little Moose Fire Starting Champion six years running. And with a little practice, you, too, can master this skill."

"Fire Starting Champion?" I smirked. "That was a thing?"

"Check it out!" Luke pointed to the sticks. He'd set the sticks aflame, and a small fire was already crackling, greyish-black smoke billowing into the night sky.

"All right, Luke!" Fred high-fived Luke. "Good work."

As I carried over another armful of sticks, I tripped, nearly falling into a large print on the ground.

After I regained my footing, I called, "Hey Fred. Come look at this."

He walked over, Luke following him.

I stepped back so they could see the print. "Look what I almost fell into."

"Klutz," Fred coughed, and I stamped on his foot.

He winced, then knelt down and placed his hand on the print. "These are moose tracks."

"Are you sure?" Luke squinted at the ground.

"I'm a camp counselor." Fred looked miffed. "Of course I'm sure. Those are moose tracks."

I knelt down beside him and looked closer at the print. "You keep telling yourself that, Freddie."

Freddie held up a hand. "Shh," he hissed, pointing at the bushes. "I think the moose is on the other side of these bushes."

The bushes rustled, and Scooby emerged with leaves and burrs stuck in his fur.

I burst out laughing, and Velma commented, "That moose looks awfully familiar."

"There's your moose, Steve Irwin." I nudged Fred, who muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

We stood, and I brushed dirt off of my jeans.

"Okay, kids, back to camp," Fred called. "It's arts and crafts time!"

Everyone groaned in annoyance.

It was going to be an interesting summer, for sure.