The hunter had tracked his target through the forest, strangely elongated footprints with most of the weight carried on the toes. The trail lead into this small village but he had lost the trail when the target had taken to the paved roads there. The hunter had climbed to the top of this two story building in hopes of making a visual contact with the target.
The village was located on the shores of a small bay leading out to Lake Superior on Michigan's northern coast. A state road came down from a ridge, swept past the busy harbor at the foot of the bay before drifting back into the woods on its way to Wisconsin. The village stretched six blocks long and one block deep. The forest surrounded it on all sides that weren't lake. Houses were built out into the woods with some rather large mansions running along the ridge back of the village. In the summer the population of the village tripled from tourists. It was an unlikely place for a mystery, one that would call the hunter from so far away.
He had swept the area with a small but powerful monocular when movement on the road caught his eye. A gaily painted van had emerged from the forest. It traveled slowly through the village until it came across from the harbor and turned into some angle-parking on that block. "Mystery Incorporated. What are they doing here?" the Hunter wondered. It seemed very unlikely that they had come for the same thing but then, they did seek out strange mysteries and uncanny happenings. The hunter put the monocular back too his eye and watched to see what the Scooby Doo gang was up to.
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"So this is where your uncle live?" Daphne Blake asked, as the doors of the van popped open and the four members of Mystery Incorporated (five counting the great Dane) spilled out of the vehicle.
"Yep. Bullet Bay. We used to come up here every summer for a month or so. He owns that island over there," Shaggy waved a lanky arm across the street, past the harbor, out to the distance where a large island all but plugged the mouth of the bay. "Bullet Island!"
"What an odd name." Velma said.
"There's all sorts of explanations for the islands name. Some say it's called Bullet Island because it looks like a bullet aimed for the shore. Other said that back during the French and Indian war French traders would sells guns and ammunition there to the Indians so they could fight against the English. The one I like best is that during Prohibition the island was a major staging point for rum runners. And there was so many of them that they kept fighting over the rights to the island. So the place is, like, littered with bullets.
"How do we get there?" Daphne asked.
"Oh, we're not going out there. It's a wildlife sanctuary. He does research on wolves there. We're staying at his house on shore. He said we could stay there while we're here."
Fred closed the engine compartment where he had just added a quart of oil. He was wiping his hands on a shop cloth as he joined the others. "OK. I want to cash some of these traveler's checks, then we can look up your uncle." he said, pulling the checks out of his wallet before climbing up to the bank's doors. The others followed.
"You know, he's not really my uncle," Shaggy said as they formed into a line inside the dim bank lobby. "He's just a friend of the family. We just called him Uncle Eric because..." Shaggy thought for a moment but couldn't think of a reason. "Because we just do."
"R-uncle" Scooby agreed before wandering around sniffing at the unusual scents inside.
The bank was a century old building. You could tell from the grooves worn into the marble flooring from decades of people shuffling in and out of the place. Light from the barred windows overwhelmed the few, small lights mounted high in the ceiling. A section of the back wall was fitted out as a teller's cage with an old fashion brass grills running eight feet high around the teller's windows. Fred has paused at a pedestal table in the middle of the lobby to sign the checks, returned a cheerful "Morning" to a departing patron, then took his place in front of the teller. "I want to cash these, if I could," he began but the teller wasn't listening.
He was a short, slender man, dressed on a suit and tie, somewhat shiny from wear. He had small, near-sighted eyes. Reading glasses hung on a chain around his neck. He was busy scratching his bald head, the side of his neck, under his chin, one arm then the other.
"Is it just me or his his five o'clock shadow - growing!" Velma wondered.
"I thought he was clean-shaven when we came in," Daphne said, confused.
The man's face was now heavy with a thick beard that descended below his shirt collar in one direction and climbed nearly the length of his cheeks in the other. His scalp which had glinted with oily shine when they came in now sported four inches of shaggy hair. His eyes were becoming pin-pricks as he squinted around. His eyebrows had grown together into one heavy line below a forehead that visible grew shorter as his hair grew longer, shaggier. He had continued twitching but at the sound of Daphne's voice he had looked up. His beady little eyes fixed on Daphne. He seemed to howl beastly, then leaped up on his counter, grabbed the top of the brass bars on his cage and vaulted over, landing lightly next to the four adventurers. Another leap and he had seized Daphne and carried her to the ground. They thrashed around on the floor as Daphne tried to push him off.
With an outraged cry Fred flung himself on the beast-man. He tried to pull the changed man off the pretty blonde but found the creature's arm almost iron-like in their rigidity. People often misjudge Frederick Jones' strength because they think anyone wearing an ascot can't be athletic. While he was unable to break the creature's grip on Daphne he was able to pull the man off the floor. As she felt that floor receding, Daphne went limp and eeled out of the beast's grip and scooted across the floor and behind the pedestal table. She found Shaggy and Scooby Doo already there.
Velma was digging into one of the pockets in her skirt and pulled out a lipstick-size canister. "Let him go, Freddy, I've got some Mace." she announced. Fred was flung against the room as the monster swirled, looking for his missing prey. It took at step towards Velma, who emptied the tiny canister in its face. It screamed also human-like, clawed at its eyes then dashed towards the doors, banged on one side of the frame, then the other before getting through and ran off. Fred picked himself off the floor and ran to the door to give chase but by the time he got there the monster had disappeared.
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Daphne was sitting in the passenger seat of the Mystery Bus when the Sheriff arrived. Freddy had insisted she rest there from her ordeal while Daphne insisted that she was all right. Shaggy was concerned whether Daphne had been bitten or scratched by the transformed teller. "That's how it spreads," he insisted. "One bite or scratch and you turn into a werewolf!"
"I think that only applies to Zombies, Shaggy," Velma tried to explain. "in any case this wasn't a case of werewolfism. It's not night and there wouldn't be a full moon for another week."
"R-ombies!" the great Dane shivered.
"Wolfmen!" Velma corrected.
The Sheriff was a medium size man in his early forties. His straight back and extreme crew-cut would have proclaimed him ex-military even without the "semper fi" sticker on the back window of his vehicle. He drove a massive Hummer H-1, followed by two deputies in Jeep Cherokees. He sent the deputies around back of the bank to check that no one was trying to break in there while he interviewed the four teens. He spoke in a booming voice and seemed nonplussed by Fred's narration of the teller turning into some kind of wolf-man, attacking Daphne before running out the door.
"You seem to be taking this all pretty casually," Daphne said. "Most people find it pretty hard to believe it when someone says they see someone turn into a monster right in front of their eyes."
"I probably shouldn't say anything," the sheriff said, "but this is not the first case we've had of lycanthropy."
"Wolfmanism," Velma vainly tried to correct.
"Really, how many people have been afflicted?" Fred asked, ever the curious one.
"Around six, The bank president, Mr. Peterson, The Mayor's assistant, Mr. Ingle, a mechanic, Bob Thorpe, Cap'n Hoar..."
"Whore?" Shaggy sniggered.
"Hoar. H-O-A-R. I know it's a pretty unfortunately name. I don't know why he hasn't changed it, but maybe it's good for business. He runs, or ran, one of the charter boat services in town. A barber named Bruce and now Tom Phelps." He shook his head sadly.
"Anything they have in common?"
The sheriff looked at this intently before answering. "I know you people now, you're those roving crime solvers, Mysterybusters, or something."
"Mystery Incorporated," Fred corrected proudly.
"Right. I'll tell you what I'm sure every other sheriff and police chief has told you: 'Stay out of this. Leave it to the professionals!' "
"Sure thing, Mr. Sheriff Man!" Shaggy hastily agreed. "Ru-huh! Ru-huh!" Scooby agreed.
"Did that dog just speak?" The Sheriff asked.
"I'm sure it was just your imagination," Fred said smoothly. It was easier to deny that Scooby Doo could speak than to admit it.
"But, Sheriff," Velma asked, "with six people turned into wolfmen, or whatever, don't you wonder what, if anything, they might have in common?"
"They were all bald," The sheriff laughed. "It's kind of ironic, don't you think, for a bunch of bald guys to turned into hairy monsters?"
His radio squawked. He spoke softly into the microphone, listened to something on his earpiece. "I've got to go. Someone's breaking into the trash down at the diner. I'll need you to come down to the station later on and make a formal statement about what happened here, OK? And don't try to solve this yourself; leave it to the professionals." He got into the Hummer and pulled out into the highway.
"How am I going to cash these traveler's checks?" Fred whined. The deputies had finished their circuit of the back of the bank and now was festooning the bank entrance with yellow police tape.
"We should find Shaggy's Uncle's house and get settled down there," Daphne said. "We can figure out these others things later."
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The hunter was already on the move as the van backed out if it's parking spot and headed down the road
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Eric Mann's house was a a couple blocks off the highway amid a lot of other old houses, some grand Victorians and others small cottages made of field stone and now moss and ivy covered. Mann's house was in a heavily shaded lot. There was a drive and garage on one side, an overgrown front lawn and a larger back lawn even more overgrown with brush. The house was square, low with a high peaked roof. There was a kitchen, living room and a bedroom and bath on the ground floor. The bedroom looked like it was Shaggy's uncle's. The attic had been finished into two spare bedrooms. The larger looked out a gable window towards the harbor. Daphne and Velma took that room. Fred took the smaller room overlooking the back yard. Shaggy would sleep down stairs on the couch. Between his snoring, Scooby Doo's snoring and Shaggy's tendency to watch TV late into the night it was always easier to give him the couch.
Daphne had dragged her suitcase upstairs and was carefully unpacking it, working her way around Velma's case, which had been abandoned in the middle of the floor. Velma was downstairs setting up her laptop on the kitchen table, plugging in her cellphone to act as her web access, and warming up the tiny printer. Freddy was bringing in some of the supplies from the Mystery Bus. Shaggy was checking out the channels on his uncle's cable system. Velma was typing in the names of the six victims the Sheriff had mentioned and was googling their addresses when there was a knock on their back door.
She frowned. Who would come visit them? And why knock on the back door? She locked her computer out of habit and walked to the door. She opened the door, then frozen there, staring at their visitor. "F - F - F - Freddy," she stammered.
"What?" came from the living room.
"May I come in," a deep, whispered voiced asked from in front of Velma.
She tried to speak but couldn't. The best she could do was step aside and let their visitor in.
"Velma, what is i-i-i" Freddy spoke as he came into the kitchen with an armful of food to put away. They crashed to the floor. "Buh-buh-buh."
"It's not like we haven't met before," Batman whispered. "You helped me once capture the Joker and the Penguin."
"Y-e-s, yes we did. I just never expected to met you here - or ever."
"I was as surprised to see you here. What brings you to Bullet Bay?" Batman asked, ever focused on the task at hand.
"We were on our way to Minneapolis where there's a report of a poltergeist running amok at a magician's college. Shaggy's uncle - or family friend - said we could crash in his house in the way there."
"What about the hairy man who attacked you at the bank?"
"You heard about that?" Velma asked.
"I try to keep up."
Velma looked at the tall, masked stranger, her idol when it came to crime investigations, and wondered if he was making a joke. She dismissed the idea. There was no way Batman would ever crack a joke.
"Tell me about the creature in the bank," Batman commanded. Everyone turned towards Daphne, who always felt conspicuous in such situations. She recounted the story in as few words as she could, then answered a couple questions Batman asked. "You know," she added, "thinking about it, I don't think the - ah - wolfman was trying to hurt me. I think he was trying to kiss me."
"Why would a perfect stranger want to kiss you?" Freddy wondered.
"Why, indeed." Velma murmured.
"Well..." Daphne paused, embarrassed, "he was making fish lips, you know, and he didn't really try to tear or claw at me, like, you know, if he was trying to hurt me."
"R-onster R-asher..." Scoody Doo giggled as he padded into the kitchen.
"If I ever get me hands on him..." Freddy began, unconscious of the note of jealousy in his tone.
"So you're not here looking for these men turned hairy monsters? I am. I hear rumors that an old enemy of mine was conducting experiments here. I have been trying to capture one of these - ah - 'wolfmen' but so far have not been able to find one. While you're here perhaps you could help me."
"Anything, Batman," Velma gushed. "We'd be glad to help," Freddy added.
"I'd like you to go around the village and find out all you can about the victims, what they had in common, what they were doing when they changed and so on. I'd do it myself but I am rather conspicuous and I don't want to let the mastermind behind all this to know I'm here."
"Who's behind all this?" Velma asked.
"I'd rather not saw, since it's only speculation. it could be any of a number of villains. Any one of these would be extremely dangerous so don't try to get close to them. I know you like to solve mysteries on your own but in this case, please, leave the actual capture to a professional."
"Gotcha!" Freddy agreed.
"If you're - like, a professional, does that mean you have a union card and everything?" Shaggy asked.
"Shaggy!" Daphne scolded. "He's The Batman, he belongs to the Justice League. He doesn't need a - a - 'union card.'
"Actually I have credentials from numerous law-enforcement organizations," the caped crusader replied. "One more thing. You said the bank teller smashed into the door a couple times as he was trying to escape. He may have left hair there which might give us a clue to what caused his change. Perhaps Velma could go collect some samples for me." Batman reached into his ultility belt and pulled out a small evidence bag. "Here use this. Do you have tweezers. I only have one with me and might need it myself."
"I've got everything in my Utility Purse out in the Mystery Van."
"Good." Batman suppressed a smile that Velma has a utility bag like he had a utility belt. "You know the drill on collecting evidence?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Then I'll leave it up to you." Batman was about to leave, then looked at Scooby Doo speculatively.
"How good of a tracker is he?" the Gotham Manhunter asked. "Do you think he could pick up the creature's trail? I've been trying to get a lead on these disappearing men without much success. Maybe a bloodhound is what I need."
Scooby Doo stood up on his hind legs and crossed his front paws over his chest. "R'm a Reat R-ane!" he growled disdainfully.
"You still a dog,' Freddy said. "Would you do it for a Scooby-Snack?" Fred picked up a box that he'd dropped and shook it.
"Runt-ruh."
"Would you do it for two Scooby-Snacks?"
"While they're arguing over how many snacks it will take to get him to help you, Batman, I've plotted the locations of where the six victims lived and where they presumably turned into wolfman." The printer began zizzing out paper. As they came out Velma laid them out of the table and taped them together until four sheets made one large map.
"Where did you get the locations of their changes?" Batman asked as he studied the damp map.
"I found a local blog, 'The Bullet Bay Bulletin,' that listed the individual stories."
"Good work."
Velma felt heat raising in her cheeks at the compliment.
"I'll take the dog and search around here," his finger circled a section of the village filled with several restaurants. "That's been reports of 'varmints' rummaging in the garbage cans. While I'm doing that perhaps you could visit the families of the missing men and see if you can find out anything more about their disappearances."
"They were bald as bowling balls," Velma said with a laugh. "Maybe they had a bad reaction to Rogain (tm)."
"This is no laughing matter, Ms. Dinkley." The Batman turned towards the dog, "Let's go." He lead the way out the back door.
"Wow!" Freddy said as he sank into a chair next to Velma. "That was really The Batman. And he wants us to work with him!"
"Earth to Freddy!" Daphne called. "We would have looked into this whether Batman was here or not. That he is here means someone big, someone dangerous, is behind all this. This isn't going to be a lark."
"I agree," Velma said. "The nearest person on the map is Mrs. Alma Peterson, wife of the missing bank president. She leaves about three blocks away. I say we walk over there and have a talk with her, like The Batman said."
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The restaurant district of Bullet Bay ran one block. There was a pizza joint, Chinese take-out and a sit-down Mexican restaurant. A soft-serve ice cream stand was closed for the season. Batman lead Scoody Doo around the back of these places. Scooby Doo sniffed around a bit, quickly coming to the dumpster behind the pizza joint. "Hmmm R'izza" the dog rumbled, standing up and trying to look down into the bin. Batman grabbed his collar and pulled himself. "No you don't, big boy," he whispered. "We look for the changelings first." He dragged Scooby Doo into the gloom a dozen yards from the stores. "Sniff around here for anything unusual," he directed.
Reluctantly the Great Dane started snuffling along the ground, pausing every couple minutes to look longingly back at the pizza place. They'd gone down most of the block before Scooby jerked up his head, wrinkled his nose and grumbled, "Rhat r'inks!"
Batman looked down at where the dog had been sniffing. Night was falling and it was getting hard to see. He pulled out a small but powerful flashlight and shone its light over the area. "Ah!" he exclaimed after a moment. "Footprints. This is what we're looking for, Scooby Doo, follow that scent."
"R'o I r'ave r'o?"
"Yes, you have to."
Scooby growled.
"Don't make me have to put a muzzle on you. 'cause I've got one," Batman threatened.
They followed the scent back into the forest and along a low ridge, passed a number of large, dark houses, summer houses for rich vacationers, now closed as Fall descended on the small village. They'd followed the trail for about an hour when they came to a barren spot where the rock underlying the ridge had become exposed to the weather. Scooby paused, cast his head to the right and left, then sat down. "R'othing," he sighed.
Batman looked over the rocky path. "Come on," he said. "The changleing either went ahead, or down the ridge to the right or the left. Let's see where we can pick up the trail."
"R'm r'ired." Scooby said, laying his head on his paws.
"It's only been an hour," Batman argued, "how can you be tired. Come on, let's go."
"uht uh."
Batman rolled his eyes, something he never did. 'I'm arguing with a dog,' he thought in disbelief.
After a long minute waiting for Scooby to get up, Batman sighed. How do you incentivive a dog, he wondered. Then recalled how Fred Jones had done it. But he didn't have any dog biscuits in his utility belt. Then he recalled he had something maybe even better. He reached into his utility belt for a wrapped ball about the size of his thumbnail. He peeled off the wrapper. 'I can't believe I'm saying this,' he thought. "Would you do it for a - uh - bat-snack?" He waved the round pellet under the dog's nose. Scooby's ears perked up and a long tongue flashed out and snatched the treat from Batman's gloved hand.
"R'erishous! More?"
"Later. I thought you'd like that. It's my emergency rations, a mixture of ground beef jerky, suet and chopped nuts. The Indians called it pemmican. I added some vitamins and caffeine for a pick-me-up. Now let's go or no more treats."
"Rat-snacks!" Scooby said, leaping to his paws. He sniffed around the bald spot, down the ridge and over to the lake side were he picked up the trail again. Batman tossed him another of his rations when he found the track again.
They were getting near the highway next to the lake when they entered an open glade. Batman frozen when he saw the other creature in the glade, scarfing down a hamburger, one of several in a pile on the ground. Scooby Doo was a second slower in seeing the transformed man but wasted no time in placing himself behind the Manhunter.
"Mr Phelps?" Batman called softly. "I'm The Batman. I've come to help you. I mean you no harm."
The wolfman looked up at the sound of Batman's voice. His eyes, burned under a heavy pelt of facial hair, widened in fear. He grabbed up the other hamburgers and snarled, "mine!" before running into the woods.
"Wait," Batman called and ran after him.
Unthinking Batman ran over the place where the hamburgers had been sitting on the ground. The next second his foot was yanked out from under him and he was carried bodily into the air. Even as the branch bobbed and swayed under his weight, Batman was scanning the glade for any sign of the traps setter. No one. Even Scooby Doo had run for shelter.
Mad at himself for not thinking about the possibility of a snare, Batman waited for the swaying to settle done, then pulled his legs together and hooked his free leg around the one held by the snare. Most people held upside down by the trap like this would be helpless but the Batman had trained his body hard for years. With concentrated effort he bent his body in half until his hands were able to grab a hold of his legs. He walked his hands up his legs until he reached the rope holding him in the air. A knife appeared in is hand and quickly cut through the rope. He twisted in the air as he fell and landed on his feet. His neck was sore from the wrench of being up-ended. He whistled and the Great Dane slunk out from his hiding place. He considered whether to continue pursuing the changed bank teller and decided it wasn't necessary. Whoever was causing these changelings was busy capturing them, too. Which was why he hadn't been able to find them. Maybe with the fur sample Velma was collecting and the reports from the others he could find another angle to attacking this problem. He flipped another ration chunk towards Scooby Doo. "Let's go home."
This story was inspired a year and a half ago by the appearance of the first issue of Scooby Doo Team-Up. I thought it could be a great idea but the first issue seemed such a disappointment. Mystery Incorporated is looking into reports of a monster and run into Batman and Robin is is also looking for a monster - Man-Bat! They capture some crooks, Shaggy has shenanigans with Man-Bat, the crooks have to recaptured while Batman rescues Shaggy and gives Man-Bat his antidote. This was supposed to be the meeting of two great detectives and no where was there any detecting involved. So I thought I'd try my hand at it.
It's not as easy as it sounds. In the first version of this story Batman doesn't appear until the third act! I've tried to re-write him into the story earlier which lead to other changes. But I do have the two groups working as a team. Also I don;t think this story can be converted into a 20 page comic book. There just too much going on. Still I'm happy with the central idea.