Ticket to Anywhen Chapter 7, a scooby doo fanfic

Chapter 7

Once Velma recovered enough to explain her theory, they listened through the 'how' portion of the explanation with mounting revulsion until she forced herself to explain the details of the 'why'. Then they refused to believe it. Velma did not defend her theories but listened to the rest of them argue amongst themselves. She was rooting for the side which disagreed. She desperately wanted to be wrong. Completely wrong.

Dinner was skipped and the arguments rolled on. They ended in a draw and everyone turned back to Velma who laid out the remaining facts which needed to be researched to either confirm or deny her theory. More private records were required which turned that portion of the process back over to Daphne. By 11:00 PM, the information was in hand. Velma's theory was confirmed. This led to intense emotions with which they individually had to deal. No one went back to their rooms. Wherever her relationship with the gang stood, Velma would not be alone to sit and think about what she had just discovered.

They worked through the night. Each would doze for stretches but there was no real sleep. They planned. Flow charts were created, sketches were made, and the internet was consulted. Once again, they needed a trap. Shopping was required, but Fred didn't need to go to the hardware store. This was not a physical trap but a mental one. There was a preponderance of facts but no real proof. Everything depended on getting a confession.

In the morning, they went back to their individual rooms to shower and perform their morning preparation rituals. As they returned, Daphne assisted each with some make-up to cover the dark, haggard circles under their eyes. They were shell-shocked, shaken, and more than a little afraid. But they mist not look it. In order to confront the level of evil which they were about to face, there could be no perception of weakness. They had to look, act, and pretend to feel strong and confident. Lives hung in the balance. Including one of their own.

Fred was on the phone with Clive at 7:00 AM, explaining that he wanted a meeting and giving a list of who he needed in attendance. It was scheduled for 11:00.

No one mentioned breakfast, not even Shaggy or Scooby, and they went through the plan again and again. They discussed contingencies. Reviewed and changed flow charts. At 9:30 Fred declared 'pencils down' and no further changes were allowed to the plan. The went over it for 45 more minutes before Herbert arrived to take them to the CBS Building.

The drive over was quiet as each member of the team went through their part in the plan. Some knew that they would have to perform their part of the plan. Others hoped that they would not. Everybody had to be ready to play their part. If any one of them failed, they all failed.

They arrived at the building a little after 11:00 and got off the bus. Velma had a rollaboard and the others were empty-handed. There were no notebooks, tablets, paper scripts, or plans. They knew it or they didn't. As they came to the front door, Daphne stopped each of them and looked them over. She said nothing. A slight jut of the jaw here or a tilt of the head there communicated the need for better posture or a different facial expression. They were not going to skulk into that room They were going to stride in.

Herbert, oddly, led the way into the building and up the elevator. He wasn't on the required list but Fred didn't stop him. He went first into the conference room which was crowded and veered off into a corner. Behind him came Fred, Daphne, Scooby, and Shaggy. Seated at the table were Nick Farrell (alias Father Benjamin Taylor), Marsha Matthews (alias Dr. Tabatha Strickland), Margaret Sampson, PhD, and Rob Matthews.

Seated in a chair along the wall away from the table was Hanna Timberlake. Herbert had taken a seat near the far corner. As in the previous meeting, Clive was standing.

Clive's facial expression was fixed, his mouth a straight line, "I didn't expect my ex-wife to be present for this."

Daphne held his gaze and took a half step forward as she spoke, "She's Rob's mother."

"She's not my mother!" Rob's voice was not the overly mature controlled tone of the previous meetings. It was shrill, childlike.

Daphne felt sympathy for Hanna in that moment but could not look over at her, she maintained her focus on Rob, "In the eyes of the Government, she is. And everything we accomplish here today could be challenged in court if we exclude her."

Rob nodded.

Clive looked around the room, "Where's Velma?"

Daphne retreated half a step as she answered, "She's… not… feeling well. She may not be able to make it."

A tiny look passed between Clive and his elder sister.

Shaggy and Scooby took seats at the midpoint of the table across from each other. Fred remained standing near the door.

Daphne paused to survey the room, the act of her gaze falling one-at-a-time on each of the occupants brought their attention to her, "I'm afraid that we have come to a conclusion about Rob. We have spoken with physicists around the world, and we have spoken with additional clergy, and we have spoken with psychiatrists and psychologists across the country. We find that the conclusion is inescapable." Another quick glance around the room to confirm that their attention was rapt, "Rob is in the process of a complete psychotic break and must be hospitalized immediately. Otherwise, he risks descending into a more pronounced delusional state."

"What?! No!" Hanna leapt to her feet and moved toward Rob, who recoiled. Shaggy got out of his chair and caught her before she made the table. He held her in place and then gradually guided her back to her chair.

Clive had his head tilted like a curious puppy, "Daphne where are you com…"

The alias Dr. Strickland silenced him with the tiniest flick of her finger. It would have been barely noticeable if every member of the gang was not keenly focused on the relationship between her and her brother.

"Ms. Blake, I believe that you are very premature in such a finding. I find it hard to believe that any of my peers would render such an analysis without ever having met or tested the boy."

"Sometimes, Dr. Strickland, it is a process of elimination. It is not about proving A. It's about disproving B and C. Dr. Sampson stated that she believed it was impossible for Rob's story to be true from a scientific perspective…"

Dr. Sampson spoke for the first time, "I'm sure that I didn't use the word 'impossible'."

But Daphne kept on without stopping, "And Nick said that The Church was sure that this was not a case of demon possession."

The faux priest stepped into his role, "Those were not my words at all, I… Wait? What?"

Daphne wheeled on the actor, "You said, Nick, that The Church was sure that it was not demon possession."

Nick's eyes were confused and his mouth started working as if he were chewing gum. Daphne held her breath. Words were about to start and they would be the first domino that would start it all.

Just as the first noise came from Nick Farrell, Tabatha Strickland interjected, "Ms. Blake, you seem to be putting words in the mouths of both the professor and the father."

Daphne saw the actor retreat back from the words he was about to say. Using the delay provided by Strickland, he began to recover from the ambush. And round one went to the bad guys.

But Daphne took another shot just to confirm that the door was closed, "Nick. Nick Farrell, Actor. Why are you here?"

Again, it was Strickland who spoke, "Ms. Blake, possibly you could let the rest of us in on what is going on?"

The fact that their main adversary was Tabatha Strickland was not a surprise. Nor was the fact that she was smart and quick-witted. It was time to retreat a step and play the long game. They were not going to defeat Strickland head-to-head. One of the others needed to be cut away from the pack.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Dr. Strickland but the Father has been deceiving you. Father Benjamin Taylor is neither a Father nor Benjamin Taylor. His name is Nick Farrell, and he is a local actor."

Strickland didn't even glance at Nick, "Well, if this accusation is true, then it is certainly appalling but not worthy of this level of drama, do you think? I don't believe that it is actually illegal to impersonate a priest. Is it?"

Daphne pretended to think about this statement, "For a Halloween party? No. However, when the person in question uses the impersonation in order to fraudulently gain a foothold into a young boy's life, I believe the police might think that warrants some drama. And I fear that the media might find it intriguing, as well."

It took Nick Farrell a moment to process the ramifications of what Daphne was saying, "No. No. No. It's nothing like…"

Strickland cut him off again, "That's, of course, only if charges are pressed."

Which was exactly what Daphne wanted – the opportunity to fence with Clive rather than Strickland.

"Why wouldn't you press charges, Clive? This man took your money and weaseled his way into your only child's life. Can you think of any good reason that he would do that? Can you think of any reason that he would do that which is not completely nefarious."

Strickland didn't give Clive a chance to answer, "Ms. Blake, this is all very confusing to me. I'm not understanding half of what you're saying. It seems as if you are blindly stabbing around, like someone who has no proof at all and is just hoping someone will make your life easy and confess. To what, I don't know."

Daphne knelt down next to Nick Farrell, put her lips right next to his ear and whispered, "She's right. I don't have anything." She stood and resumed in her normal speaking voice, "But, Nick, wouldn't you like to learn a little bit about the people that you've decided to work with?"

Nick was sweating profusely and did not move.

"I would." It was Dr. Sampson. "I would be very interested in getting past this soap opera and hearing some facts.

Strickland countered, "What facts do you think she has, Margaret? It will just be more supposition and fiction.

"Is it then, Dr. Strickland, supposition and fiction that your real name is Marsha Matthews and that you are Clive Matthews' half-sister?"

Dr Sampson turned to Dr. Strickland, "Is that true, Tabatha?"

Strickland shrugged, "True enough, but irrelevant."

Daphne pushed forward, "Is it also irrelevant that 31 years ago, you went to juvenile detention for a crime which your brother committed?" This was a complete guess. She had no idea what was in the sealed files but she felt that, at this pivotal point in the proceedings, she needed to break out of the beachhead she had attained.

A very slight squint in Strickland's eyes told Daphne that the gamble had paid off but she could not let her relief show. It was time for the next big jump.

"Isn't it also true, Clive, that you and your sister are directly responsible for three young women who are all now in mental hospitals with major damage to their brains? And by bringing Dr. Sampson and Nick into this, you have made them accessories after the fact to multiple felonies?"

Strickland stared at her brother, "Don't say anything!"

Dr. Sampson's voice was creeping up and contained an edge of panic, "Tabatha, is any of what they are saying at all true?"

"It's lies! All lies!"

But her brother's terrified face belied the statement.

Nick was dumbfounded, "What's going on here? I just wanted to get a job on a television show."

Strickland stood, "Everyone shut up!" She allowed a slight pause before continuing, "Yes. Ms. Blake, Clive is my brother. And we chose to hire an actor to play the part of a priest. And we chose to hire a physics professor to tutor my nephew in potential technological advancements in the future. As for my identify change? Our lawyers will dispense with that more easily than brushing dust of their shoes. You've got nothing."

Daphne stopped and nodded. The nod looked like an acceptance of defeat but, on seeing it, Fred opened the door.

And in walked Velma.

Not just Velma. But Velma. Through the night, Daphne had cut her hair back to the original pageboy. And then they had dyed it with bottle hair dye. The color did not look natural but the grey was gone. And she wore skin-tight orange top with a low-cut neckline, a very short red pleated skirt, knee socks, and Mary Jane shoes. It was not one of her actual costumes. It was one of two remaining 'Velma' costumes from a costume shop they had found a few miles from their hotel. Being sized for adults, it was one of the hyper-sexualized costumes but the effect was there. She was Velma.

She walked up to Clive and stood in front of him. Her posture was erect, her ankles tightly together and her hands were at her side. She was making no effort to be sexy or sensual. Although she could feel herself trembling, she kept her voice even when she said, "Hello Clive."

Clive looked down at Velma and a tear rolled down his cheek, "Oh Velma. Velma. Velma. Velma. Velma." And then he threw his arms around her.

Strickland roared at Daphne, "I have to medicate my patient! Let me through."

Daphne looked at Clive and made a calculation, "Why don't we just let your patient run unmedicated for a minute or two and see what happens."

Strickland grew cold, "The appearance of your friend dressed like that has triggered a dissociative event. If my patient is not medicated immediately, then a full dissociative break is very likely to occur with lifetime consequences. Whatever your thoughts regarding my brother and myself, we do have a doctor/patient relationship with which you are interfering."

"Mommy!" Out of nowhere, Rob bolted from his chair, ran, and slammed against the side of Clive and Velma, joining the embrace.

Daphne stepped aside, "Go ahead."

Strickland reached under the table and brought up an out-of-style, hard-covered, square briefcase. She inserted a key into two separate locks and the spring-operated hasps sprang out with a metal clink. Pulling out a small leather case, she extracted two syringes and a small medicine vial. She loaded them both up and stepped around Daphne to where Velma struggled to maintain her composure while in the grasp of Clive and Robby.

As Strickland passed, a growl formed deep in Scooby's chest but he knew his part was to stay still and wait.

Velma's part was also to suffer through Clive's embrace while Daphne continued her narrative for the benefit of Nick and Dr. Sampson who were to be their witnesses. But the addition of the young boy and the cry of 'Mommy' were unexpected and she couldn't handle it. She pushed and fought and finally tripped out of the hug, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor. Clive and Rob moved after her but Scooby jumped between them and the vicious growl escaped his chest and came out in a sound more terrifying than any they had ever heard from him. Clive and Rob stopped. Velma crab-walked backwards away from all of them until she reached the far wall, where she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.

Clive was looking past Scooby's barred fangs and extending his arm toward Velma as Strickland rolled up his sleeve and injected him. For a moment, there was no effect and he continued to struggle against Strickland's grasp and seemed on the verge of challenging Scooby for access to Velma. "Velma? You're mine. You've always been mine and you will be mine through eternity."

This distracted Scooby enough that Robby slipped by and ran at Velma.

It was Fred who saw it first, "Knife!"

"Mommy!" Robby screamed again and raised the weapon.

Velma registered the threat but the emotional trauma that was barraging her nervous system was shutting her down. She would not defend herself.

And suddenly the boy was on the ground within three feet of where Velma was fighting through her internal mental torments.

Herbert had not so much tackled as tripped the boy and now held him by his wrists. Using the leverage of his position and his extra weight, he was able to easily keep the hand with the knife at bay.

"She's my mommy!" Robby screamed.

The medicine got into Clive's bloodstream and his knees buckled. He staggered against the table and then fell heavily into the nearest chair – almost overturning it.

Strickland took the three steps to Robby and administered another dose to him. This one taking effect far more quickly than it had with Clive. Robby's eyes rolled back in his head, his body completely relaxed, and he began humming softly to himself. The pocketknife fell from his now limp hand to the floor. Herbert picked it up, closed it and stuck it in his own pocket.

Hanna fell to her knees next to her son and cradled his head screaming at Strickland, "What have you done to my son?! What have you done?!

"Daphne?" It was Shaggy.

She looked over and then followed his gaze to Velma who was now hugging herself and rocking on the floor in the corner of the room. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut against the screaming and sounds of struggle going on around her.

Daphne looked back at Shaggy and nodded her head slightly. He bolted from his pre-assigned position and fell to his knees next to Velma. He tried to put his arms around her but she screamed and began thrashing about with her fists. Flailing as if at hundreds of unseen apparitions swirling in the air around her. Shaggy grabbed her wrists and slowly placed them back to where she was hugging herself and sat next to her on the floor without touching her. She settled back in rocking.

The medications were bringing Clive back to an equilibrium and his years of training under the tutelage of his sister began to kick in, "I'm very sorry. I don't know what came over me. I've been battling a flu bug…"

"Shut up, Clive." Daphne and Strickland spoke simultaneously.

Daphne stepped around the table and confronted Strickland directly, "And all of this, Marsha, was because of your dysfunctional relationship with your brother - who is an emotionally stunted delusional schizophrenic who is unable to discern where his fantasies end and reality begins. Rather than turn him over to others who might actually help him, you kept him under your control by making his delusional fantasies real."

Velma clamped her hands over her ears and shook her head, violently.

"With you acting as puppet master and the connections which your father's name provided, you finagled Clive into a position with the local affiliate where he met Hanna. At your urging, he convinced her to seek psychiatric help… from you. And you… did what? Groomed her? Manipulated her into a weird, loveless marriage with your brother. And then either he convinced her or she convinced him or it just happened but they adopted a baby boy. And you had another unwilling lab rat for your hellish experiments. You turned him against his mother and he fell into his father's delusions.

"And then maybe it was through your efforts, or your father's, or maybe incompetence just rises to the top in a corporate bureaucracy but Clive ended up here. In an executive position where he would be surrounded by these things of his fantasies. Young women."

Strickland knew that there was no longer any value in keeping up the pretense. The best she could do would be to stall for time and hope for an opening in which to act, "You make it sound so sordid. Look at him. He is emotionally an infant. There was never anything sexual. He wanted to dress them up like perfect porcelain dolls. He wanted to play with them."

"Is that what happened to the three women who are hospitalized? He played with them?"

"In essence."

Something about the simplicity of this two-word answer stunned Daphne. But she had no Velma to take over, so she pressed ahead with the script, "And then, twelve years ago, he saw a stupid Youtube Channel with a bunch of kids solving mysteries."

Clive, who had been listening, turned, "I saw Velma. She was perfect." He turned back and looked across the room to Velma. His words came out as a whisper, "It's only you." But he made no move to stand and his words were strangely calm. Almost robotic.

Daphne ignored Clive, "And little brother Clive fixated on Velma. So, in order to get Velma close, he had CBS buy our show. And then what? You moved on to those other women trying to perfect your devil's brew of psychotropic medications and destroyed their minds? And now that it's ready, it's time to give your brother the delusional fantasy that he was always craved the most, Velma Dinkley."

She paused, hoping she had given Strickland enough rope to hang herself.

Strickland was shaking her head, "Well, so much for Darrow Night School psychological training, Ms. Blake. You have missed the foundation of the whole process."

Daphne knew she had won, the villain was about to start talking. She also knew what this meant and glanced over at Fred. He caught her eye to show that he was on top of this. What they never revealed on the show was that after the villain gave the big explanation, they always did one of three things: try to escape with a sudden bolt, try to kill everyone in the room and then escape, or try to commit suicide. Fred was in charge of making sure none of these happened. Especially the second one.

Daphne kept Strickland talking, "Enlighten me."

"In order to create a docile companion that can be inserted into my brother's delusions, I must blur the subject's identity. They must lose their grasp of who they are. This is done by inducing dissociative disorder but it must be done under careful controls or you risk them drifting into dissociative personality disorder or some other mental pattern that is no longer useful. My first efforts with my brother's ex-wife were clumsy. While they succeeded, she was able to conduct a form of self-therapy where she worked her way back to a strong contact with reality. This seemed to be tied directly to the boy who seemed to give her a goal around which to rally.

"From that I learned that for this to work, people must be cut off from any form of emotional support network. The next three efforts to which you referred were weak and they each had psychotic breaks within a few months and became worthless."

"So," Daphne knew that this needed to come back around to Velma, "It was now time to try your methods on Velma. So you concocted a fascinating and unique fake mystery which was guaranteed to peek our interest and then sweetened it with cash. What were you going to do, lure her off to some isolated location and start filling her with your psychoactive drugs?"

"You're still not understanding. The drugs are not a part of the process of creating the dissociative disorder. The drugs are for controlling the disorder once it is created."

Daphne remembered something she had learned in school about dissociative disorder and looked over at Velma who continued to hug herself and rock in the corner while Shaggy sat helplessly by. A tightness gripped her chest. She knew what was coming next.

"What, Ms. Blake, causes dissociative disorder?"

Daphne looked back at her, "Trauma."

"Exactly! And where a single massive trauma will tend to destroy the psyche or cause damage which makes the individual non-functional, a series of smaller traumas – both good and bad – can be used to the same effect. Even good things cause change and a type of trauma. It is carefully timed so that each successive trauma hits just before the mind and emotions have reached equilibrium from the previous one. This pattern continues for wave after wave. A series of life-changing traumas.

"Traumas like suddenly becoming a television celebrity. Orchestrated by Clive. Watching your ratings fall due to Clive's machinations with your program. The sudden scrutiny of having the world change their perception of you based on a movie that was underwritten by Clive and myself in exchange for creative control of Velma's character and casting. Then the rise of the television ratings due to fortuitous circumstance over which Clive and I had little control. Your Annunaki friends get the credit for that one. As they do the sudden collapse of those same ratings which destroys the show.

"Then the placement of multiple internet rumors about Velma which force her to face the removal of all sense of privacy and leads toward a loss of sense of self. And finally, the desperation that drove her support system to sacrifice everything – including her – to their efforts to revive the failed show. We couldn't have done it without you.

"Ms. Dinkley has been a monumental challenge. What a mind! What strength! She endured for twelve years what no other person was able to stand against for more than 15 weeks. But even the strongest of us break.

"Her refusal to go to college and the failure of her bookstore were symptomatic and proof that she was ready to come to us. You see, Ms. Blake, Ms. Dinkley was not about to enter my program. She was a graduate. Now was simply the time that we were going to harvest what we had planted. If you are fully understanding the situation now, then you are realizing that she needs a dose of the control medicine or she will – like Clive or the boy – suffer a complete psychotic break and you will lose her."

Strickland had a rictus-like smile spreading across her face, "I am now going to leave. You may accompany me to the elevator, Ms. Blake. And, as the door closes, I will hand you the dose she needs. You will have to administer it immediately into her bicep. If she does not get this dose soon, then by the end of the day, she will be a screaming vegetable."

Strickland rose and began walking toward the door. Fred locked eyes with Daphne and knew that he had to step aside. Daphne followed Marsha Matthews alias Tabatha Strickland out to the elevator. Awkwardly, they had to wait a moment for it to arrive. The screaming in the conference room had attracted attention and seven or eight employees had gathered in the lobby to see what was happening. Amongst themselves, they talked and assumed it was a pitch for a new show.

Standing in front of the elevator, Daphne held a steady gaze at Strickland, "In every mystery we have investigated, the monster has always been fake. Until now."

The elevator door opened and Strickland stepped inside. As the door began to close, she reached out a hand holding a syringe. And, when the door was almost closed, she depressed the plunger squirting the medicine up into the air from where it fell and splattered on the floor at Daphne's feet. The doctor threw the syringe at Daphne's face like a dart which made Daphne duck away. And then the door was closed.

Daphne whirled to see Fred bolt from the conference room at full speed and run down the hallway to the stairwell. He wouldn't make it in time. She walked back into the conference room.

Shaggy looked up from his place on the floor, "What happened?"

"I didn't get it."

"What are we going to do?"

Robby pushed himself up to his knees and fought his way out of his mother's grasp. He crawled over to Velma and placed a hand on her knee, "Mommy?"

And Velma screamed.

The scream was not a human scream. It was a combination of such animal pain and fear that it struck a deep primal cord within Scooby Doo and, for the first time in his life, he howled. He howled in commiseration with a member of his pack who was grieving the loss of her soul. She continued to scream. Not a long continuous wail but a roller coaster of high-pitched shrieks down to low bubbling sobs. But it did not stop, slow, or abate. The pain and intensity grew.

Shaggy could tolerate inaction no longer and he reached out and threw his arms around her. She immediately began to thrash and kick and fight and punch and kick. Shaggy took a fingernail in the eye and lost sight from it, but he held on. They were now rolling around on the floor. Her tiny frame brought to super-human strength through her fear and rage. She wrestled him over onto his back, sat on his stomach, and rained blows down onto his face. Without ever once opening her eyes.

Shaggy was able to get a hold of her wrists and get his arms back around her and pull her to him as she continued to flail and now kick. One of her oversized shoes flew off into the air and the other made solid contact with his shin. But Shaggy held on. And then she bit. She bit deep into the point where his neck joined his shoulder. Grinding with her teeth and rending flesh. When she pulled her head back, Shaggy's blood covered her chin.

And he held on.

She finally began to tire and he wrestled her back up into a sitting position. The punches she threw began to lack power and her efforts to push away from him lost vigor. But she continued to scream. And, through it all, he continued to repeat the same words over and over.

"I'm here."

Her energy spent, she went limp and he was able to pull her against his chest.

"I'm here."

This went on for several minutes. Daphne had called 911 and an ambulance was on the way.

"I'm here."

Nick Farrell bolted from the room during the commotion and exited down the other stairwell.

"I'm here."

Fred returned. Exhausted and dejected. He had failed. Strickland was gone. He had called the police and they were on their way.

"I'm here."

"You're here." Velma's voice was such a soft whisper that even Shaggy wasn't sure it was real.

He continued, "I'm here."

"I'm here."

"You're here." It was stronger this time. Shaggy heard it clearly.

"I'm here."

"You're here."

"I'm here."

"You're here." They could all hear it now.

"I'm here."

"You're here."

"I'm here."

"You're here."

Velma's arm reached up and she laid it over Shaggy's shoulder, dragging the cloth of her sleeve through his fresh wound. The pain was excruciating but he held on. Her arm looped over his shoulder and then she pulled herself toward him and buried her face in his chest. Her grip became tighter as she repeated the new mantra.

"You're here."

And then she stopped and began to cry. The crying was not loud or wailing. It was a soft cry. She held to him and he held to her. Her tears were a steady flow as he continued to tell her, "I'm here." These tears were not the tears of her lonely nights in her apartment. These tears held catharsis. These tears released her pain. There was a lot of pain and the tears flowed only so fast. There was a long way to go. Such a long way to go. But that didn't matter now. What mattered now was the feeling of another human being holding her and caring for her. And the blessed relief of the tears. She cried.

After a few moments, she pulled her head back from Shaggy's chest, looked up at him, and smacked her lips.

"What's this taste in my mouth?"

"I think it's my blood."

She pulled her hand from his shoulder to wipe her mouth and saw the large blood stain on the sleeve.

"Jinkies."