Disclaimer: Scooby-Doo and most of the characters therein are the brainchild of Joe Ruby and Ken Spears, and currently the property of Warner Brothers Animation.

1. Means And Circumstances

Witnesses inside the jewelry store didn't describe the robber as a person. He seemed more like a specter, a supernatural entity. How else could they describe his methods of robbing the establishment?

From his entrance at 16:00 that Friday afternoon it was immediately apparent that he didn't belong there; he stood out in a crowd of immaculately tailored and coiffured patrons with his tattered black denim, faded grey t-shirt and equally faded black duster coat. But most striking of all was the mask he wore: full-face, with what one witness correctly guessed was Maori tribal markings covering almost every square inch.

They all spoke of how they wondered that someone like that could be allowed in a place like this. The answer came when they looked at the security guard at the door, ready to have his job for dereliction of duty, only to see him lying lifelessly at his post. Then the reality set in: this was about to be a robbery.

Panic and petrification set upon the shop floor. They watched him, fearful though still morbidly curious about how he intended to execute his plan. They watched, as he lifted his arms and held them outstretched. As they watched him, they noticed how gradually they became queasy and how their legs started buckling as though they could no longer remember how to stand upright. Then the pain set in, a sudden head-splitting throb that caused the afflicted to scream out in agony, begging for the pain to stop. Unconsciousness claimed them to the envy of the others.

Those not overcome by the pain, they spoke of profound disbelief at how the armored glass display cases then suddenly shattered, exposing their contents to the open air. They watched him as he helped himself, at his leisure, to a seemingly random selection of jewelry items which he placed in a small bag.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP, ASSHOLE!"

The few remaining conscious witnesses sighed in relief that the guard had recovered enough to regain his footing and draw his weapon which was now trained on the entity. The entity then slowly turned toward the guard, hands raised.

"THAT'S RIGHT, ASSHOLE! NICE AND SLOW!" ordered the guard, sensing his upcoming commendation as his target complied.

He and what witnesses remained conscious felt their relief turn to even more excruciating pain as the headaches and nausea and imbalance returned with a vengeance. The pain was now unbearable to the point of screaming unto unconsciousness all around the room. All except the guard, who despite having dropped his weapon, remained barely standing. The entity gave him special attention by simply pointing a finger gun his way, then jerking his hand upward to simulate recoil. The guard then felt his lungs instantly constrict, his breathing becoming labored, almost impossible. Oh god, the monster was smothering him without even touching him! As his ability to draw breath abandoned him, the guard felt his vision becoming darker and darker until all that remained was blackness.

xxXXXxx

The robber casually exited the store and walked into an adjacent alleyway, to an open manhole down which he descended, being sure to close the cover behind him. Down below was a long-abandoned subway tunnel, a relic of Coolsville's failed excess and ambition from the eighties. There he changed out of the costume into a second, more nondescript civilian outfit. There was also an awaiting duffel bag into which he stuffed the monster outfit together with the loot. He then began his walk.

He had time. The people at the jewelry store would all regain consciousness, they'd all recover. He knew that. The police would be called, the crime would be investigated. Witness statements would be taken. And the witnesses would tell of a…thing…that could make people black out and knock their wind out without even touching them. Coolsville PD would then decide that this was beyond the scope of their CSU and the forensics investigators. Then they would come, as they always did. Ghosts were right up their alley, they wouldn't be able to resist. This time he was anticipating the move. He was counting on it: all part of the plan.

After walking for just over an hour, he found the ladder that led to the desired exit. He climbed out and indeed he was in the destination neighborhood. Not much later, he was at the target address: 1313 13th Street. He snuck into the yard, found an adequate hiding spot in which he stashed the loot and the duffel bag. He then snuck back out of the yard and made his way to the next-to-nearest phonebooth. He now had to work quickly, for it was getting late.

He dialed a number. The recipient's phone rang for a short while before being answered...

"Yeah, what?"

"Hello, can I please speak to Red Herring?"

They'd been partying up a storm since 18:00 in one of the wings at the Blake mansion, having wrapped up their most recent case. As usual, the case had involved some criminal enterprise, in this case pirated audio cassettes, that involved an enforcer in a gimmicky monster costume that could project noise at ear-splitting levels. That, and a kooky, made-up legend of a vengeful sound technician from the fifties helped keep potential witnesses and passers-by in check. Of course, the meddling kids and their puppy had cracked the case through their usual combination of detective skills and dumb luck.

Hence the festivities. Daphne had gone all-out, even by her standards. They'd enjoyed a Stinkweed movie in the new theatre, followed by a private concert by Buddy Chillner – who was there as a personal favor to Daphne – followed by a jaunt through the newly-built waterpark.

It was now going on to 23:00 and the party had moved to a wing that had been converted to a disco. Here, the music was lively, and so was Velma as she boogied away to the beats. Everyone but her friends would have been surprised at her current vigorous activity. Everyone but her friends did not understand that she was more than just a studious academic and was as capable as anyone else of cutting loose and enjoying herself.

Such was currently the case as she had the rest of the group in awe as they watched her spin and twist, gyrate and sashay to Bobby Brown belting out 'On Our Own'.

A somewhat older and larger pup named Scooby-Doo was especially vocal in his encouragement: "Rho Relma! Rho Relma! Ret Rusy!"

"Like, wow!" echoed Shaggy while clapping and whooping to the beat. "There's no-one out there who can tear up a dancefloor like our Velma!"

"Yeah!" concurred Freddy. "The only one who would stand a chance would be Sasquatch's sister-in-law after she beat the hip-hop alien from Saturn in the final of the last interplanetary dance-off held in the Himalayas!"

"Gee, Freddy," retorted Daphne in weary monotone. "It's just such a pity that she can't be here to challenge our Velma."

"I know, hey?" answered Freddy, oblivious as ever, to which Daphne could only close her eyes, shake her head, and wonder for the umpteenth time why she considered him one of her best friends.

"Oh Children?" Mrs. Blake entered the wing, greeting them in her somewhat affected accent. "It's getting rather late now. Whatsay we wrap things up soon and relieve Jenkins from his DJ'ing duties? Dawson has prepared your sleeping quarters over in the south wing, so you're all set."

"Oh, but Mother!" protested Daphne. "The party's only just getting started! Can't we stay up a bit longer?"

"But Daphne Dear! Your beauty sleep will be cut short. Are you willing to live with that?" There was a pronounced tremble in her voice as she asked that question.

It was an event rare enough to be considered jaw-droppingly life-affirming when Daphne responded: "But Mother! These are my friends and they're worth an hour or two of lost beauty sleep!"

A lengthy pause followed. Freddy was the first to react. He got right into Daphne's face with: "OK, you alien imposter! Where's the real Daphne and what do you plan on doing with her? TALK, you extra-terrestrial fiend!"

Velma was next to react. In no time she was next to Daphne and had popped a thermometer into the redhead's mouth before grabbing her wrist to check her pulse. "Jinkies, her vitals appear to be normal," she concluded, "but perhaps more comprehensive testing might be necessary." The diminutive prodigy was already fitting on a pair of latex gloves as she spoke the last part.

"Guys! There's nothing wrong with me!" insisted Daphne as she spat out the thermometer. "Can't I just have more of a good time with my best friends in the world?"

"Well…" hesitated Freddy, trying for a plausible explanation for his overreaction, before settling on: "I knew that!"

"Like, thank goodness!" Shaggy proclaimed with an arch sigh. "My heart barely survived this last mystery! Two mysteries in the same day would have killed me!"

"Reah! Rou sraid it!" affirmed Scooby.

Mrs. Blake had a chuckle at the silliness that she'd witnessed, then conceded: "Very well, Children. One more hour. Enjoy!" She then left to their calls of thanks and gratitude.

As she left, the party picked up again with Jenkins spinning Culture Club's 'Move Away' which got an instant reaction from Velma and Shaggy as they voiced their approval over each other.

"Jinkies! What an exemplary musical composition!"

"Like, this song really makes me want to move my feet!"

Instantly, the genius and the bottomless pit were at it on the dancefloor. It started out similar to a dance-off, but very soon their competitive smirks softened to smiles of encouragement as Shaggy and Velma started dancing with – instead of against – each other. Shaggy's style was characterized by his rubbery legs and rapid, almost tap-dancing, footwork that could keep up with any tempo. Velma reverted to her usual hybrid style of wild hip-hop tempered with slower, robotic movements. The more they danced, the more they seemed to be enjoying each other's fellowship.

The rest in the room were also taken in by the dancing spectacle.

"Rho Raggy!" shouted Scooby. "Rake rat runny-raker!"

Freddy and Daphne were split between Shaggy and Velma. Jenkins made it a tie, even if his wording left much to desire. "Go Miss Dinkley! Go Miss Dinkley!" he shouted from behind the decks while punching the air above him.

"CHILDREN!" Mrs. Blake had returned, her sharper voice conveying more urgency this time. "MAY I PLEASE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION?"

Her projection cut right through the festivities and ensured that all attention was focussed on her.

"Freddy," she looked towards the blonde boy, "I just received a call from your mother. You need to get home immediately. Some emergency, she said."

Freddy's reaction suggested he was fearing the worst…as only he could fear it. "Oh no!" he began hysterically. "Alien invaders from the sun's core have arrived to abduct my family and replace them with cyborgs to observe the earth to prepare for the upcoming invasion!"

"Gee Freddy," Daphne deadpanned, "they couldn't have chosen a more intelligent host."

Before Freddy could respond in kind, Daphne turned her attention to the rest of the group: "Hey Guys, how about we accompany Freddy to his home?"

"Jinkies, yes!" agreed Velma. "If it's an emergency, then he will need all our moral support!"

"Like, as long as there are no ghosts and spooks involved!" added a suddenly chattering Shaggy.

"Reah, rho-o-o-o ronsters!" Scooby insisted just as vehemently.

"Then it's settled!" declared Mrs. Blake. Then away from the room, she bellowed: "DAWSON!"

xxXXXxx

They arrived by limousine at Jones's residence to find police vehicles parked around the property. A detective was questioning Freddy's parents, while CSU techs were processing the area, mostly dusting for prints and looking for fiber samples.

"Mom! Dad!" yelled Freddy as he demanded that the patrolman at the perimeter let him in. The commotion caught the lead detective's attention, and she waved him in. Freddy needed no second invitation as he rushed towards his parents, only to be halted by the detective.

The gesture didn't sit well with Freddy, who asked his parents: "Mom! Dad! What's the emergency? Why are the police here?"

"By way of an explanation, Freddy's father said to him: "Son, this is Detective McChokem-Childe...and she has a few questions for you."

The detective's gruff exterior betrayed a similar interior as she straight away began her questioning, with notepad and pen in hand. "Son, where were you this afternoon."

The suddenness of the question caught Freddy unawares as he stammered for what should have been an easy answer: he was with his friends for most of the day."

"Uh-Huh!" the detective commented dryly. "And when during the day were you not with your friends!"

He answered that one equally uncertainly, citing the get-together at the Blakes and how he was out of anyone's sight when he went home to collect his things for the overnight shindig. Around four till five-thirty when Jenkins arrived to pick him up for the party.

At that answer, Detective McChokem-Childe looked up from her notepad, her interest suddenly piqued. "And was anyone with you at the time?"

Freddy's easygoing nature was fast slipping as he answered uncertainly, almost fearfully: "Well, no. My parents were still at work, but they knew where I was headed and—"

"Detective!" interrupted a tech. "Look what we found! Hidden in the backyard!" He handed a small cloth bag to the detective, who opened it, examined its contents, then smiled a potent smile at Freddy.

"And you've never seen any of this before?" she asked as she produced a necklace from the bag for his perusal. "One of the items reported stolen from the robbery at Marathon Jewellers this afternoon. Care to explain how it came into your possession?"

Freddy's ability to enunciate abandoned him, leaving behind a gibbering shell.

From outside the perimeter, his friends could see that the situation wasn't good for Freddy even though they couldn't hear what was spoken.

"What luck! Jones getting busted for robbery!" they heard the derisive voice approaching them from behind. They turned to see Red Herring come to view the spectacle. He didn't wait for any comments as he continued: "Maybe now he'll realize all the crap he put me through by blaming everything on me!" He still wasn't done as he turned his attention over the barricade and shouted to Freddy: "Hey, Jones! How's it feel to be on the other side when nobody believes you!"

"Like, Red," Shaggy admonished, "that's not very funny!"

"The hell it isn't!" countered Red. "It's hilarious! Especially since I'm the one who tipped off the cops on him!"

Shaggy, Velma, Daphne and Scooby still didn't have time to be angry at Red; the sight of Freddy being handcuffed was more shock than they could handle.

So there you have it, chapter one of my first attempt at a Scooby-Doo fanfic. My goal here will be a hybrid of the zaniness of A Pup Named Scooby-Doo and the world-weariness of Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated. As such you can expect tonal shifts between high comedy and serious drama within any given chapter; the ratio will vary from chapter to chapter.

And yes, the opening scene was totally inspired by the opening scene from Beverly Hills Cop 2. Freddy's address is a reference to a Donald Duck cartoon. There's also a nod to Charles Dickens in there somewhere.

And...I'd be very much remiss not to acknowledge Orange Ratchet for providing the inspiration that would see me attempt a Scooby-Doo fanfiction. You rock, dude!

Anyway, let me know what you think so far.

And before I go, here's my Spotify List, i.e. a list of songs I frequently listen to on Spotify for inspiration as I write a chapter.

On Our Own – Bobby Brown

Move Away – Culture Club

Bad Guys – Harold Faltermeyer (with Keith Forsey)

And that's it for this chapter. See you next time and stay healthy!