The last thing Velma knew was the gut-wrenching feeling of falling.

The rest was darkness.

- PRESENT TIME -

Velma slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh light bearing down on her face. Her head hurt. Her arm hurt. Everything hurt. Soft beep-beeping sounds pierced through the silence.

Velma put a hand to her aching head and was met with a sharp pain in her wrist – her forearm was wrapped in beige medical tape.

She tried to blink away the blur in her eyes, but failed and realized her glasses were on the end table next to her. She swiftly sat up, trying to figure out where she was. But once she put on her glasses she knew.

She was in a hospital bed.

The room was plain and white. Brisk footsteps and hushed voices sounded in the hallway outside.

What was going on? What happened?

Then the memories flooded back.

The funeral.

The knife.

The fire.

It all came crashing down on her.

Blinking away tears, Velma tried to slide out of the bed. She was wearing a hospital gown and socks. There was an IV in her hand.

But that wouldn't stop her.

She needed to find Daphne and Shaggy. She needed to make sure they were okay.

But before she could take the IV out, there was a knock on the door.

It opened to reveal a burly man in his forties wearing a tan police uniform. A shiny gold badge was adorned on his chest.

It was Bronson Stone, the sheriff of Coolsville.

And Velma hated him.

Like Mayor Smythe, Sheriff Stone was on the top of Velma's hated persons list. And she had many. But her list mainly consisted of those who didn't believe her or take the gang seriously. Especially with their mysteries.

The gang's past cases always ended with the police acting as though it was an accident that Mystery Incorporated solved another mystery. It was considered another "win" by the police department.

Mystery Incorporated was like a little club to them. Just some college-aged kids sticking their noses where they shouldn't.

Coolsville's police and leadership figures had always been incompetent. The many cases brought to them by citizens were never taken seriously.

It was Mystery Incorporated who cared.

Always.

But now Mystery Inc. was gone. It would never come back.

Fred's death meant nothing to Mayor Smythe. He just wanted the publicity.

Velma knew it. They all knew it.

The arson that occurred at the Blake estate wouldn't be taken seriously.

And today wouldn't be an exception.

Velma moved quickly back under the covers, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

Sheriff Stone sauntered into the room, running a hand through his greying black hair.

"Ms. Dinkley?"

Velma scoffed. "Don't pretend you don't know who I am."

Sheriff Stone raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just protocols."

Velma didn't say a word as he moved to an armchair at the foot of the bed. He sat down slowly, his gaze shifting to the bandages on her arm.

"How's the arm?"

She ignored the question; there was only thing on her mind. "Where's Daphne and Shaggy?"

"They're fine."

"Where are they?"

Stone exhaled through his nose. "Rogers somehow got out with minor injuries. He's outside with my deputies . . . Blake has a minor concussion, but she'll be alright. The doctors are expecting her to wake up in a day or two."

Velma nodded slowly, exhaling as she leaned back on the bed.

They would all be okay.

But Daphne was still unconscious.

Fred was gone.

Her father was missing.

And the Blake's home was burned to the ground.

Someone was after them.

They were nowhere near okay.

Velma shifted in the bed. "The fire –

Stone cleared his throat. "That's what I'm here to talk about –

"Somebody broke into Daphne's house when we were at the funeral! They – They were in her bedroom – there was a knife pierced through –

"Whoa! Whoa! Slow down!"

"No! I will not slow down!" Velma was now sitting upright clutching the blankets. Her knuckles were turning white.

Stone's eyes narrowed. "You're telling me someone broke into the Blake's estate and put a knife through a photo and Fred's –

"Ascot!" Velma cut in. "The photo was of me, Shaggy, and Daphne at Fred's funeral! We came back and a knife was put right through it! It had some red substance on it – like blood!"

"Okay, okay," Stone said, his voice low with concern. "Velma. You need to listen to me."

Velma cried out in frustration. "No! You need to listen to me! Someone's after us! I just know it! And – And I don't know where my father is! Have you seen him?"

"Calm down!" Stone said. "I haven't seen your father, but I'll check it out. Right now, we're investigating what caused the fire. It's looking like a malfunction with the electrical –

"No! It was gasoline! All over the place! We smelled it!"

"There was no trace of –

"Are you people stupid?"

"Velma, stop!"

Velma began to sob, feeling foolish at her display of weakness.

The police were never on her side.

They would never take her seriously.

"Velma, listen to me!"

Velma looked up from her hands. Stone was now standing.

"I know you've been through a lot tonight, Velma."

Velma let out a sob. "And – And why can't you figure out who killed Fred? Shouldn't you at least have something?"

Stone shook his head. "Velma, we're trying, okay? This fire hasn't helped matters, and –

"I DON'T CARE! MAYBE IF YOU GUYS ACTUALLY DID YOUR JOBS NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!"

"Velma, I know you're really upset right now –

"DON'T TELL ME HOW UPSET I AM!"

Stone exhaled sharply through his nose as he placed his notepad back into his breast pocket. "Just talk to me when you're ready, Velma. This is hard on all of us."

And he was out the door, slamming it shut behind him.