Chapter 7: Induction, Then Destruction

There was a sound of creaking metal as Jonah and Cinnamon opened the hatch in the ground near the radio tower, while Daphne and Velma watched on in apprehension.

What sort of…things are down there? Mystery Inc.'s resident redhead thought.

A moment later, the hatch had been fully opened, revealing naught but an empty corridor.

"Well, it looks like it was just a waste of ti-" Jonah began.

"LT? Is that you?" a young man's voice asked from further down the corridor.

Cinnamon and Daphne looked at each other.

"Could be a trap of some kind." the former said.

"That's a chance I'll have to take." came the reply.

"It's your funeral."

Daphne was silent as she approached the ladder leading into the corridor.

"Catch you all later." she said before sliding down.


Hex Girls Tour Bus- Zimmerman's Department Store parking lot

"Hey, Luna- I got you something."

The dark-skinned keyboardist turned around to see Dusk and a blond-haired man standing nearby, the former clutching a gallon jug of denatured alcohol in her hands.

"Good. Now I need you and your friend to get me about two or three more of those."

"You aren't even going t-" Fred began.

"Considering that you're with Dusk, haven't had any teeth knocked out, and are still breathing, I'm going to assume that you're good people." Luna replied.


The corridor beneath the Scrapheap radio tower was silent as the grave as Daphne made her way down it, the only sound going through her ears being the low hum of her weapon's power pack.

"Olly olly oxen free!" she exclaimed.

"Over here…" a young woman's voice replied.

Daphne promptly picked up the pace, homing in on the voice's source.

And here comes the moment of truth. she thought as she continued down the corridor, turning the fire selector from "safe" to "semi-auto", the soft blue glow of the weapon serving as the only illumination in the stygian depths.


Gooseman's Saloon

"Miss Mayor! If I'd known you were coming, I'd-"

"Don't worry about it, Mister…Deacon, is it?"

The bartender vigorously nodded.

"What do you want from a humble man such as I?"

"Since I'm feeling extravagant today, how about two glasses of the rum that came in on the latest shipment from Ciudad Azúcar?"

"Like, that's o-" Shaggy began.

"Come now, old friend- what kind of host would I be if I didn't treat you to some of the finer things in life? Besides, from what I've heard, the rum that Ciudad Azúcar distills is utterly fang-tastic."

"Like, if you say so."

A moment later, the two glasses of rum slid down the bar, with Sibella promptly taking a swig.

"So, how is it?" Shaggy asked.

"Let's say that I now know how it earned its reputation as the pride of the Southern Rio Grande Valley."


"Oh God…" Daphne said as she rounded a corridor.

Before her were a young man and his two female cohorts- none of whom could have been any older than 18 or 19 at most. All of them were clad in identical gray uniforms and leather boots that the corpse she had found topside had worn, with the young man and one of the young women wearing black hats to boot. The only outlier in the group was the other young woman, who was wearing a green hat.

They shouldn't- they're way too young to- Daphne thought, her jaw flapping in stunned silence.

"Is there something wrong?" the first young woman asked.

Daphne's hands reached down, and she began fumbling for her flashlight.

"I asked, is there something-"

Just then, the room was flooded with light, prompting the woman to recoil. With the increased visibility, Daphne could now better make the trio- the young man was clearly Caucasian, the woman recoiling from the light appeared to be Asian, and the green-hatted one was black. All three had a head of black hair cut high and tight, and their uniforms' right shoulders were embroidered with a patch reading "43RD INFANTRY BATTALION- ALPHA COMPANY".

"Who are you?" Daphne finally asked.

"Specialist Dana Tan, New American Army, serial number 12-12-2-triple aught. As of this moment, my comrades and I surrender."

"…surrender? What're you-"

"Terry, our unit's abandoned us! We're deep in hostile territory, and I don't think rescue or resupply is coming anytime soon!"

The woman in the green hat let out a cough.

"Yes?" Daphne asked.

"Specialist Maxine Gibson, serial num-"

"It's okay, soldier. You don't have to rattle off your serial number for me."


"It's been nearly half an hour since your friend went into that hole. She's either really damn lost, found something interesting, or dead." Cinnamon said.

"We've been in tighter spots before, Sheriff." Velma replied.

"Like what?"

"Well, there was one time when we were up in Coalinga investigating a wave of cattle mutilations that the locals chalked up to chupacabras."

"And?"

"Turned out the 'chupacabras' were a bunch of territorial mutants who were basically pawns in a range war being fought by some of the area's more prominent ranchers, whereupon said ranchers sent their brute squads after us with orders to shoot to kill."

Just then, Daphne clambered back up to the surface.

"So, what'd you find down there?" Jonah asked.

"That dead guy in the uniform?"

"What about him?"

"Well, three of his friends were down in the tunnels."

"Did you win?"

"Actually, they surrendered- said that they'd been left behind."

Jonah's face contorted into a sneer.

"Probably some kind of trick."

"What makes you think-"

"Because I pulled it off back at Vicksburg."

A long silence settled over the scene.

"There's no way you can be that old." Velma finally said.

"Let's just say that Ra's al Ghul should've been paying more attention to where he was shoving me last time we met. Back on the topic at hand, I say we leave 'em here for the buzzards- I mean, there's no way we can fit those prisoners and these two ladies in the Sheriff's car."

"Our guests can sit on the prisoners' laps." Cinnamon replied.

"Yeah- and get thrown through your windshield when you have to come to a screeching halt."

"Well, what do you recommend then?"

"Find another ride for the gumshoes. I mean, there's got to be at least one other working vehicle around here."

"Daphne and I'll go look." Velma piped up.


"Thorn, this had better work…" Dusk grumbled as her bandmate climbed up onto the top of the tour bus with a megaphone. From where she was sitting, the former drummer could see a veritable horde of men and women dressed in outfits that vaguely resembled goth fashion. Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Luna had her eyes closed and her fingers crossed.


Here goes nothing… Thorn thought as she got into position atop the bus, raising the megaphone upwards.

"Listen up, my acolytes!" she exclaimed.

The crowd went quiet enough that one could hear a pin drop.

"I know that we have guided you, molded you, and made you more than mere marauders- but the day has come that we must depart from you. One day, we shall return, but not even we know the day or the hour when that shall happen. In our absence, it falls upon you to follow our teachings and to not fall back into your old and evil ways. But before we depart, we have but one request."

"What is it, oh great and mighty Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla?" one of the crowd members asked.

"The blond interloper? Give him his bicycle back."


"Y'know something, Shaggy?" a tipsy Sibella asked.

"What?"

"Some days, I just wish I could pawn off my position to *hic* my vice-mayor and go adventuring- to feel the wind running through my hair, to *hic* go from town to town, righting wrongs and exploring through the ruins, that sort of thing! I mean, you know how mind-numbingly tedious it is to go through *hic* all those mountains of paperwork or dealing with the delegations of other nearby towns?"

"I can only imagine."

Sibella took another swig of her rum.

"I mean, just before you arrived, I had to deal with some representatives from Gastown-"

"Where's that?"

"About a day's drive north-ish, up near someplace called Durant in what used to be Oklahoma. They're where we get most of our fuel these days, what with *hic* the uptick in raider activity on the road from…from- it's right on the tip of my tongue! It's about fifty miles west of Waco-"

"Fort Ewing?"

"That's the place! You been there?"

"Yeah- some mutant creep was sabotaging some of the wells there. Lemme tell you, he was one ugly son-of-a-gun!"

"How ugly are we talking?"

"Remember that Clayface guy that made onto the news back when?"

"Vaguely."

"Well, he looked kinda like that, 'cept instead of clay, his body looked like it was made outta tar!"

Sibella and Shaggy both broke out into laughter.


"Um, Velma- is it just me, or does that van look kind of familiar?" Daphne asked.

Velma blinked as she saw a news van with a distinctive medium blue with a distinctive horizontal green stripe around the van, adorned with two orange flowers. A further glance revealed the only outward sign of modification to be the addition of a ramming grill on the vehicle's front.

"Oh my God…" she said.

"Preach it, sister." Daphne replied.

"I mean, this has got to be the mother of all coincidences- only way it could be more of one is if the previous driver left it with a full tank of gas and the keys in or near the ignition."

"Well, as much as I'm loathe to look a gift horse in the mouth, here's hoping that those things are the case."