Chapter 5: Strikin' Up A Chord

Gooseman's Saloon- "Downtown" Mockingbird

"What'll it be, ladies?" the bartender asked as Cinnamon, Daphne, and Velma walked into the establishment.

" Usual for me, Deacon." the sheriff replied.

"And your friends?"

"What've you got?" Daphne asked.

"Mostly whisky, hard cider, and potato vodka, plus tequila and some fruit brandies if you want the good stuff."

You have my curiosity, but now you have my attention…

"What sort of fruit brandies are we talking about?"

"Applejack, kirschwässer, Poire Williams, and calvados."

"Kirsch for me."

"I'll take a hard cider." Velma said.


The things I do these days… Fred thought as he pedaled across a derelict stretch of road. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an old billboard, a long-faded advertisement featuring three young women in Goth attire plastered across it. Along the bottom of the ad, he could see the words "HEX GIRLS- LIVE AND IN CONCERT AT SPEAKING ROCK ENTERTAINMENT CENTER, EL PASO!"

I wonder if they survived. he thought.


"Uptown" Mockingbird

"Don't you have to, like, run the town?" Shaggy asked as he, Scooby, and Sibella walked through the marketplace.

"Can't a girl have a little time off with some fang-tastic old friends?" came the reply.

"…rhe's got a roint." Scooby piped up.

Shaggy nodded as the trio continued on their way.

"So, what kind of neighbors do you guys have?" he asked.

"Well, there's some kind of settlement in an old shopping center a few miles from here. It used to be a raider camp, but then there was a schism or something a few years ago."

"Like, what sort of schism?"

"Some of the raiders who passed through here said that some of their old comrades found some new leaders. Since then, the ones that stayed in that shopping center have taken on some…odd customs."

"What sort of customs?"


Well, here I am. All I need to do now is get inside, find those candles, and then get back ou-

"OI YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Fred snapped to attention. Standing a mere stone's throw away was a musclebound man wearing something that resembled Goth fashion if one squinted and tilted their head a bit.

"Who, me?" the blond-haired man asked.

"You dare intrude upon the turf of the Ayatollahs of Rock and Rolla?"

"The which-wha-"

The man in the Goth ensemble reached for his hip and produced a sickle.

"The Ayatollahs of Rock and Rolla, stone-ears! Commanders of earth, wind, fire and air!"

"I don't understand what you're saying, sir."

"What's there to not understand? Just walk away and you'll be fine!"

"Look, I need to get inside-"

Before Fred could even finish, the other man charged.

Well, I hoped it wouldn't come to this.

As his opponent descended upon him, Fred drew his pistol and took a shot at the brawny Goth, the bullet grazing his shoulder and prompting him to drop the sickle.

And now to finish the j-

Fred's train of thought was promptly derailed as his opponent's fist collided with his temple, sending him reeling.

"I will bring you to face my mistress' judgment, interloper!"

"What mistresses?" Fred slurred.

The Goth slugged him again, this blow landing beneath Fred's jaw.

"The witches three, who came through here to spread their gospel!"

"Wha-"

Another punch to the temple, and Fred collapsed like a sack of potatoes.


Zimmerman's Department Store- a couple hours later

"Oh, great- another 'heathen' that those weirdos dragged in. At least with the old groupies, they didn't treat you like some kind of prophet." a woman's voice proclaimed.

As Fred came to, he began to take stock of his surroundings and current situation. Before him, seated in a leather recliner atop a pile of junk, was a slender young woman with pale skin, green eyes, and long black hair with red highlights at the roots and ends.

"Who are you?" he slurred.

"S-"

"O Exalted Thorn, I have brought y-" the musclebound man from earlier began.

"How many times do we have to tell you to stop worshipping us?!"

"But why should we not revere those who saved us from pestilence, who gave us a greater purpose beyond preying upon the convoys and caravans-"

"Just…go!"

The former raider meekly slunk off, leaving Fred alone with the nominal leader of the camp.

"So, who exactly are you?" the blond-haired man asked.

"Call me Sally."

"Sally who?"

"McKnight."

" Wait- aren't you Thorn from the Hex Girls?"

"Was before everything went to hell."

Just then, another thought crossed Fred's mind.

"So, did the other members-"

"Yeah, we're all still here- and we're probably not leaving thanks to those loons who think we're the best thing since sliced bread."

There was a long silence.

"So what's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?" Sally finally asked.

"Well, my friends and I had to stop in Mockingbird to get our vehicle repaired-"

"What sort of repair?"

"Engine replacement- price was some beeswax and/or scented candles. You know where I can find some?"

"Try the housewares department. And while you're at it, see if you can't scrounge up some raw ethanol so we can finally blow this pop stand."


"Okay, ladies- I've got a proposition for you and your friends." Cinnamon said.

"What sort of proposition?" Daphne asked.

"You people solve mysteries, right?"

"Considering it's in our name, yes."

"Well, we've got a big one for you. We've been picking up some hinky long-range radio signals recently, so we sent some of our people to triangulate their point of origin."

"And where was that point of origin?" Velma asked.

"Town called Scrapheap. Thing is, Scrapheap doesn't exist anymore."

Daphne and Velma blinked.

"How'd that happen?"

"From what the refugees told us, an army of robots swarmed the place and went hog-wild."

"Let me guess- you want us to check out what's left of the town and see where the transmission's originating from."

"Bingo."