Gibby Norton was tired but euphoric as he headed through the forest towards the Canadian border. It was a beautiful night for a romantic walk thought the woods with his beloved. A mile or so ahead, just over the border was where he had built a secluded love-nest. There he and his beloved would spend the rest of their lives in blissful harmony, a union of hearts and mind ordained by heaven itself. Finally after all those years of loneliness, all that rejection, all that hurt he now had all that his heart had ever desired, Velma Dinkley. He gave a sharp tug on the chain he was holding.

"Come… on… Velma…" his voice strained as he pulled.

"Nuuuu! Huuuuuuph! Huuuuuph Muuuuh!" Velma dug her feet into the ground and tried to brace herself against a tree to prevent being dragged any further.

"Beloved… save your energy... for… our honeymoon.. yah!" Gibby jumped out of the way "Will you stop trying to kick me there! Right I'm sorry about this this darling." Gibby reached into his rucksack.

"Nuuuh, huuuup!"

Gibby forced Velma to her ground, he sat on a fallen tree, pressing her face to the floor with his boot having locked some ankle cuffs on her. These would hobble her movement and more importantly stop her trying to kick him in the neither regions. Why couldn't she just accept the inevitable, they were destined to be together and that was that. He stretched out the kinks in his back; he knew Velma was strong, just not this strong. He downed a bottle of energy drink and thought about the sub-basement were he planned to keep her for the first few months. The walls were a foot thick and made of reinforced concrete; he'd have to add more and stronger doors too. He looked up into the sky, there was a bright moon but too much cloud to easily navigate by the stars; she'd managed to break his GPS equipment, shredded his maps and kicked his compass into a river, then there were her attempts to break him and one bit of his anatomy in particular. He pressed his boot down harder as she fought to get up; he wondered where she got the energy from."Huuugh," Velma growled quietly as her face was pressed into the ground.

Gibby knew she would fall for him in time he knew she would initially resist so had researched the best way to restrain and silence Velma. He had rejected rope as that could be abraded so had selected chains and padlocks with cable ties being used to cinch as appropriate. Velma was almost as inventive and skilled at improvising as he was so her hands had been secured in rigid leather mittens to keep her fingers out of mischief. Rather than the trendy but useless tape, or the classic but ineffective cleave gag, Velma had been silenced by a grapefruit sized ball of soft sound absorbing foam attached to a wide leather panel lined with an inch of neoprene, all held tightly in place by a mass of straps. While a collar and lead would be quite symbolic, it would also be too dangerous if she fell over so he used a chain locked round her waist to guide her. It would also allow him to use more effort to get her moving without fear of injury.

It had taken months of planning to get this far. He had managed to lure the gang to a small border resort town with reports of ghostly apparitions scaring visitors to a set of holiday cabins - leaving traces of sugar frosting to ensure all of the gang turned up was an inspired touch. As planned the mystery had been a by-the-numbers affair, Daphne had needed to be rescued, Fred had made traps, Velma had found clues while Shaggy and Scooby had been live bait. At the last moment, when everybody was focused on the unmasking of the villain he had spirited Velma away. Two remote-control decoy get-away cars ensured maximum confusion. He watched them panic from the amusement of a nondescript beat-up old station wagon. The police had quickly set-up roadblocks, fortunately he had planned for this so hadn't been worried when he had been stopped by a couple of times on the way out of town so they could search his vehicle. He'd got out and let them get on with it; Velma was secured in a soundproof compartment hidden under the backseat. The compartment itself was only accessible from under the vehicle. He knew he couldn't risk crossing the border in the vehicle; sniffer dogs, x-ray equipment and professionally inquisitive officers worked there, any one of which could rumble his plot. So he would drive off-road along a pre-selected path to a specific place where he could hide the car. A less thoughtful crook would burn the vehicle to destroy evidence, but that ran the risk of being noticed so a mixture of bleach and formaldehyde sprays followed by filling the vehicle and hidden compartment with expanding AB foam would suffice. The Canadian border was only a few miles away from there, the confusion he'd left behind and subsequent delays in international law would give him the few hours he needed to spirit her away forever. Even the sub-basement wasn't accessible from the house, should the authorities search the house there would be nothing to find. His plan was fool-proof.