SCOOBY-DOO: Close Encounters of the Scooby Kind

Scooby-Doo and all related characters are property of Warner Bros.

SALF Array– Scorpion Ridge, New Mexico

"So, Laura, do you ever wonder why we're here?" a black man with a tall, thick muscular build asked as he kept an eye on a radar monitor.

"Existential sense or why we're sitting around and getting free money because campaign promises?" a tan-skinned brunette replied.

"Yes."

Said brunette rolled her eyes. "I swear, Max, one of these days, I'm actually going to do it."

"You don't m–"

"That container full of chocolate pudding in the break room fridge with your initials on it? Dibs."

Max held back a laugh. "And deny a working man his food?"

"Touché, Mister Richardson," Laura fired back. "Though speaking of work, do you know where Steve's gone off to? Because if he's downing whiskey sours at that little hole in the wall back in Bennett, I'll–"

"You'll what?"

Both Max and Laura turned around to see an average-looking white man with brown hair and blue eyes standing in the doorway, his hands filled with bottles of various juices, a package of cocktail umbrellas, and a newspaper or two precariously balanced on top.

"…never mind," the latter said under her breath.

Max chuckled. "Trying to work around that 'no drinking' policy again, are we?"

"Hardy har har," came the retort. "Seriously, though– am I the only one here who isn't bored out of their skull?"

"Maybe if you'd do some work for a change, you wouldn't be," Max replied. "That or you could bring something other than supermarket tabloids to read."

An indignant look formed on Steve's face. "So says the man who's involved in searching for alien life. I mean, it's not like some cosmic hot rod is going to descend from the heavens blasting 'Radar Rider' at max vol–"

Just then, Max let out a yelp of pain as he threw his headphones off, briefly filling the air with the sound of static. In the ensuing rush, Steve's elbow knocked against one of the juice bottles, in turn sending one of the tabloids to the floor. Had anyone else been in there, they'd have noticed the image of a ghostly pre-teen girl in a tattered dress and cowboy boots with the words "NEW ORLEANS, GOTHAM, MIAMI– LOUISIANA PHANTOM GIRL ON TOUR?!" on the front page, with a handful of smaller boxes reading such things as "MYSTERIOUS MULTICOLORED MASKED PROTECTORS OVER TOWNSVILLE; CRIME-WEARY CITIZENS SAY 'ABOUT TIME'!", "THE HEX GIRLS– THE NEXT BIG THING, OR ONLINE ONE-HIT WONDER?", and "VICE-PRESIDENT OF LENOIR PRODUCE COMPANY URGES PEOPLE TO NOT ACCEPT TOURS OF PEPPER PLANTATION ON MOONSCAR ISLAND!"


We were somewhere around Roswell, on the edge of the desert, when Coach's hunger began to take h–

"Phanty, can you do me a favor and, like, pass me a jar of peanuts?" Shaggy asked from behind the wheel of his van, interrupting his former student's attempt at a mental monologue. "I'm starvin' here!"

"Which one?" a ghostly girl asked, rummaging through a stash that could induce anaphylactic shock just by looking at it.

"Unsalted'll do just fine."

The girl gave a quick nod before fishing out the requested jar and handing it over.

Now, where was I? Something about feeling lightheaded, giant bats– oh, forget it! New script! So, I bet you're wondering who I am, aren't you? Well, they call me Phantasma, and I'm…well, at least older than thirteen. I think. One year tends to bleed into another when you're a fun-loving ghost, but that's not important right now. Anywho, up until recently, my friends and I– oh, heck, I've got a journal somewhere around here that's got all the stuff that's happened to us recently! Like our school in backwoods Louisiana getting trashed, our old gym coach and his talking dogs being asked to help us navigate the human world (and his friends getting roped into it), us fighting an evil vampire in New Orleans, helping some guy dressed like a bat defeat some crazy people in Gotham City, or taking down a ghost pirate who was actually a real pirate in a costume in Florida. That last one was fun– like, 'most fun I've had in my afterlife'.


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Yes, once again, it's back to the old Scooby-Doo/DC Comics crossover 'verse known as Earth-55, albeit with some changes. For one thing, this is intended to be something of a soft reboot for the universe with the DC elements downplayed (hence why the Legion of Doom and Batman aren't mentioned by name in Phantasma's little mental recap and why John Constantine and Zatanna aren't mentioned at all), mostly because this now shares a universe with The Powerpuff Girls Adventures. Speaking of Phantasma's recap, it was originally going to be a lot longer (mostly because of her train of thought going all over the place), with Sibella periodically interrupting because her incorporeal friend was apparently thinking out loud and disturbing her rest.

Also, fun fact– this was based primarily on a never-published fic of mine entitled "First Contact, Scooby Style", which was more in line with the previous fics "In Blackest Day, In Brightest Night", "Marie, Reine du Sange", and "Shipping Up to Gotham" in terms of DC ties– maybe even more so, since Martian Manhunter, Ted Kord, and Jaime Reyes were all supposed to be major characters. And before you ask, both this fic and that one are based on Scooby-Doo and the Alien Invaders (key words being "based on", as at least one of the major plot points from that film won't be happening here– and no, it's not the big twist near the end).

And to wrap things up, yes, Phantasma's opening mental monologue was indeed based off the iconic opening line of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (both the original Hunter S. Thompson novel and the 1998 movie adaptation).