Friday, May 27, 2016

Daphne Blake Imperiled Reporter Pt. 3 Sneak Peek


Above is my finished illustration for Pt.3 of my story "Daphne Blake: Imperiled Reporter", of which I'm still working on. I ken it's been a while since I posted Pt.2 but hopefully, I'll have Pt.3 completed by the end of June. Hopefully. But for now, you can just wonder how she gets out of her "hanging" predicament at the warehouse and onto a conveyor belt at a fish processing plant. Stay tuned...

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Hentai Daphne

I haven't posted anything here in a while. Real Life issues have been keeping me away. But, as busy as I've been, poor Daphne here is gonna be a helluva lot busier when the "Pit Monster" gets ahold of her...MUWAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! The image here is cobbled together from three(3) separate drawings of mine. I've been getting better at this "copy/paste" thing. At any rate, given the amount of "cartoon porn" that seems to be flooding the 'net, it was only a matter of time before I did up my own (very lame) Hentai version of Daphne in "tentacle peril". The illustration below is for a "still-not-finished" short story I started back in 1995. Hell, I still don't even have a working title for it! Maybe, like the illo, I'll someday finish writing it. In the meantime...

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

A Bad Night In The Museum

Here's a couple of older works I did up back in 2012, involving SDD and Velma getting trapped in a haunted museum (or so they were led to believe). Of course, the museum wasn't really haunted. The evil curator was using it as an art smuggling warehouse. When SDD stumbled upon the scene, she had Velma do some digging on her computer. Sure enough, Velma found (with a bit of hacking) two different sets of records for the museum. After making copies of the info to CDs, of which she sent one to the local police station, Velma joined SDD on a stake-out of the museum. Unfortunately, both girls were spotted by one of the curator's henchmen who alerted the other crooks (who were loading up the latest art-works in a lorry, out back of the museum). Quietly sneaking up on the snooping duo, the crooks clamped chloroform-soaked rags over the girls' faces, rendering them both unconscious in but a few seconds. When the girls awoke they found themselves strapped, face down, to a pair of old guillotines. Ropes were embedded in lit candles, which were nailed to nearby wooden tables. The other end of the ropes were attached to the guillotine blades. As the candles slowly burned down the duo, tightly secured and gagged, struggled in vain to get free. The evil curator came down there basement stairs to gloat over his doomed captives, one last time. "Farewell you meddling snoops! Sorry to 'cut' and run but I've got orders to fill! MUWAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!" With that retort, he left the girls to their fates...


Saturday, October 10, 2015

Daphne Gets Gassed

Like a lot of "fan boys & girls", I've always had a fascination for Daphne Blake; usually in some kind of distress or peril. But then, I've always had a thing for red-heads, anyway, real or other-wise. I think it's ingrained into my psyche. This fascination has been around since 1969 or so. But then I was too young to understand much, being as I wasn't quite three years old. Egads! Here I am over forty years later and still fascinated by her. When I was a "pre-teen" I developed an alter-ego for her, "Super Damsel Daphne". The idea sprang from watching too many Saturday morning cartoons and Elektra Woman & Dyna Girl. I drew sketches, I wrote short stories and developed all kinds of perils and traps to put her through and in. Unfortunately, most of these stories and sketches have been lost over the years.

 It wasn't until around 1989 that I took to drawing Daphne again. This after I was released from active duty with the Navy. I also started writing new stories involving her and the whole Scooby-Doo gang; what's commonly referred to as "fan fiction". And there were some solo stories involving her alter-ego, "SDD" (for short). A lot of what I wrote and drew was on paper, as it still is to-day. But, even then, stuff gets lost when you move. Alas. Enter 2006 and me coming into the "computer age". Now I had the ability to scan in all those drawings (that I didn't lose), and edit all those stories. In 2007 I (originally) joined an art community known as DeviantART, which, these days, seems to be a dumping ground for vid-caps and hackers. I'm now on my fifth account there and it may be coming to an end. The site needs a definite "house-cleaning". But enough of that.

 I haven't been too active with this here blog due to "Real Life" issues and running four(4) other blogs. But with some major "life-changing" events about to take place, I'll be able to devote some extra time, once again, eventually. I can't say how often I'll be updating here but it should be more than I have done in the past. And, most of the early posts here, will/do feature older art and stories I previously featured over at DA. Like the three images below. The first one is an old pencil sketch and what DA would have me label as "mature" (not that it matters because I label everything "mature" anyway). This was the prototype drawing for others to follow. I have "mods" that I've drawn up over the years; makes for easier, quicker drawing. I also have a bad habit of "recycling" older works into something new. But then, so do a lot of artists. Mind you, this isn't any "copy-pasting" work (though I do dabble in that at times). The sketch below is from 2011 and you can see why it'd be labelled as "mature". The only thing I've done here is to add my newer logo.


I followed up this sketch with an actual, finished work a couple of months later. This one featured Daphne in her alter-ego costume. And before anyone asks me, the answer is "no", I never gave her any super-powers. In that respect, she's basically another form of Elektra Woman minus all those electronic doo-dads. And Super Damsel Daphne always manages to get saved in the proverbial "nick of time", as do all my other damsels.

 The next drawing is fully done. All inked and coloured. I use the three "P"'s; pencils, pens and paper and I highly doubt I'll ever shift over to drawing digitally. The editing is digitally done but that's about it. Here, Daphne appears in her "SDD" costume; not that it's helping her much, in this case, heh, heh. This is the second version of her costume. I've lost the original sketches but maybe someday I'll redraw them. This will give you an idea, though. I've used the same mod as above but added a lot more to it. I drew this one in 2011 as well.


The third drawing is also based on the mod above but a bit more familiar to most who've seen it (mainly on one of my, now defunct, DA accounts). The only real differences are that I hate drawing Daphne wearing her scarf so, no scarf and, her dress is a bit...um...shorter...ahem. And I gave her thigh-high boots to match the rest of her outfit. Of course. So there you have it. Same mod for all three drawings but each different from the other. And all drawn by hand, no copy/paste B.S. I did this one up in 2012. It was formerly posted on DA.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

The Return Of J.W.

The Return of J.W.

  Author’s note: This is a work of “fan fiction” and based on characters from the “Scooby-Doo Mystery Incorporated” cartoon show. Those that have seen the show will recognize some of the character names. All other characters are created by me and are purely fictional. And they exist only in my warped mind. This story takes up where “The Last Address” left off and before “Vexina’s Revenge” (two other fan-fics I've written.)  Two years have passed since Jason Wyatt was arrested for the kidnappings and attempted murders of Daphne and Velma. Jason was committed to the Crystal Cove Asylum for the Mentally Deficient, after being judged too mentally degraded to stand trial. After five months, he was transferred to the Criminally Insane Asylum in Diamond Bay, forty miles to the north-east of Crystal Cove, under orders of the doctors. The Diamond Bay facility was better equipped to handle Wyatt’s case. It was in this facility that Jason plotted his new revenge against Daphne and Velma.

 Part 1

 “Two years. Two long, fucking years!” said Jason as he went speeding out of the car-park of the asylum. “But now...now I’m free again! HA!” His escape had been well planned. It had helped that the orderly that was in charge of him looked similar (at least as far as build and eye colour...dying his hair black came later.) Jason had become good friends with the orderly, one Dominic Farnsworth, and made it his “duty” to find out everything he could about him. So, over the course of the past eleven months, Jason was well prepared to make his move. He knew the type of car Dominic owned, what his scheduled rounds were and most important, how to use the security cards that every employee of the asylum carried on their person. It had also helped that Jason had been moved to the ground floor and into a lesser guarded area. He had “convinced” the doctors that he was, indeed, getting better and had warranted the transfer. “Stupid doctors,” said Jason as he smiled to himself and headed towards the downtown area of Diamond Bay.

 Dominic woke up with a splitting headache. Groaning, he slowly opened his eyes and found that he was lying prone on the floor of Jason’s cell. Carefully rolling onto his left side, he propped himself up with his left forearm and elbow as he felt along the back of his head. He winced when he felt the large lump in the middle. “Shit,” he said aloud. He wondered how long he’d been out. Surely someone would have noticed by now that he wasn’t on his rounds. He looked down to see that his trousers were missing, ditto his white jacket and security card. “Damn!” he lamented. Shakily getting up, he went over to the call button panel over the bed and hit the “alert” button. After which, he passed out onto the bed. All hell broke loose as soon as the alarm sounded...the info-board at the nurse’s station indicating that the call had come from Cell 122...Jason Wyatt’s cell. Of course it was too late, and by the time security gained entrance to the cell, Jason was long gone.

 The first guard into the room quickly noticed the inert body on the bed. He cautiously approached, his taser in his right hand. With his left hand the guard shook the half-naked body to gain a response. He let out a slight chuckle when he noticed who it was. Two other guards had, by this time, entered the room. The lead guard, a tall man with a shaved head, looked over at the bed, then at the first guard, said, “What’s so damn funny?”

 “You can call off the search for Wyatt,” he said. “But you might want to let the director know to alert the police that he’s escaped.” 

“Say what?” retorted the guard. “If Wyatt’s gone then…who’s that?”

 The first guard turned the body over face up to reveal who it was. “This is Dominic Farnsworth. He’s one of the chief orderlies.”

 “Damn,” said second and third guards in unison. Suddenly, Dominic began to stir awake.

 “Oh my aching head,” said Dominic as he tried to sit up. He slowly opened his eyes and focused on the first guard. “What time is it?” he asked. There were no clocks in the asylum. Too, Dominic’s watch had been taken along with his I.D. badge, mobile phone and wallet.

 “It’s 15.45,” said the burly guard.

 “Damn!” swore Dominic. “I came to check on Jason at 14.30 then I was to go on break. He’s got quite a head start.” He shook his head still not believing he’d been suckered into trusting Jason. And now all his I.D. had been taken. “Did anyone check the car-park? Jason seems to have taken everything else of mine including my keys!” After telling the guard which car it was, a check was made of the car-park. It revealed that Dominic’s car was, indeed, missing. The police were notified and an APB was quickly dispatched, to no immediate avail. Jason Wyatt was on the loose and considered to be very, very dangerous.

 It was a dejected Sheriff Stone that had taken the call. It was from his old friend and fellow officer Chief Philo Pilkins. The Diamond Bay officer had been instrumental in apprehending Daphne & Donna’s kidnappers a few years back**. He sighed as he issued orders to his officers, the description of the car and Jason. “Guess I’d better tell the girls,” he lamented as he flashed back two years. He could never forget the insane, human monster known as Jason Wyatt. Just as mental as his mother was. Stone sighed as he picked up the receiver to his ‘phone. He paused as he tried to recall Velma’s mobile number. Then it hit him...it was in his rolodex. He quickly pulled it over from the right side of his desk and thumbed through it until he found what he was looking for. He then input the number and hit the “dial” button. He groaned as he got Velma’s answering service so, left her a message to call back ASAP. In the meanwhile, he prayed Wyatt wouldn’t find her or Daphne first.


 “Was that your mobile ringing?” asked Daphne. She and Velma had just returned from the costume shop. Velma had managed to score a pair of tickets (allegedly from a “secret admirer”), to the first ever Comic-Con in Crystal Cove. This, of course, gave them an excuse to go shopping. Now with the packages unloaded from the boot of Daphne’s car, the girls ascended the front stairs of the Blake mansion.

 “I didn’t hear it and it’s not set on vibrate,” answered Velma. “If it’s important, whoever it is will call back.”

 “What if it’s...your secret admirer?” giggled Daphne as the two entered the Blake manse. Percival, the butler, greeted them at the door and offered to take their packages. “That won’t be necessary, Percival, we’ll just take them up to my room,” said Daphne.

 “Very good Miss Blake,” returned the butler.

 “Is anyone else at home?” inquired Daphne of the butler.

 “No Miss Blake, except for the servants,” said Percival. “Your father won’t be home until late...his campaigning you know. And your mother is off on another one of her wild charity things...beg pardon Miss.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t tell,” said Daphne as she winked her right eye and grinned.

 “Ahem...yes. Very good Miss Blake,” returned Percival. Daphne dismissed him and she and Velma went upstairs to her bedroom. As soon as they entered, Velma’s mobile jingled again. It was the tone for her messages. Sighing, Velma dropped her costume-box on the bed and dug the mobile out of her right, front, skirt pocket.

 “Hey! It’s from Sheriff Stone,” said Velma. “I wonder what he wants?” she added as she cued up her inbox.

 “Maybe he wants you to fix their programming again,” joked Daphne. She turned to look over at Velma and froze. Velma had a very worried look on her face. “Wh-what’s the matter?” asked Daphne. “Is it something serious?”

 Velma hit “save” and re-pocketed her mobile. Looking towards Daphne she averred, “It’s serious, alright...very serious.” Here she gave pause, not for effect but more for the fact that she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “You might want to sit down,” she said to Daphne. Somewhat confused, Daphne complied and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for Velma to continue.

 “Well?” inquired Daphne. “Give.”

 “Remember Jason Wyatt? And that Halloween horror from a couple of years ago?” asked Velma. Nervously, Daphne nodded her head. How could she forget? “Well...it seems he has escaped from the facility in Diamond Bay.”

 Daphne’s face went white. “Y-you mean...he’s free? When did this happen?” she asked, panic in her voice.

 “According to the message Sheriff Stone left, sometime between 14.30 and 15.00…today,” lamented Velma. “The guards made the discovery about an hour ago. There is an APB out for him but he’s not yet been found.”

 “Wh-what are we g-going to d-do? What i-if he comes a-after us again?” stammered Daphne.

 “I really don’t know,” answered an unsure Velma. “But I’m not going to let it spoil us going to the Comic-Con! I’ve waited practically my whole life to attend one.”

 “Well…okay,” said Daphne. “I’m sure Sheriff Stone and his men can handle it...I mean if he manages to get back to Crystal Cove.” She didn’t sound too reassured. Daphne heaved a sigh and then picked up her box. Putting aside the issue of Jason, Daphne opened the box and reached in with her left hand and extracted the bright orange and yellow, spandex costume. Tossing the empty box back on the bed, she then held the outfit in front of her at arm’s length. Velma had done the same with her red and pink costume. “Tell me again who we’re supposed to be going as?” inquired Daphne as she looked at the “EW” monogram in the middle of the chest part of the costume. She felt the smoothness of the spandex and the silkiness of the attached, nylon cape.

 “You’re going as ‘Electra Woman’ and I’m supposed to be ‘Dyna Girl’,” answered Velma. “I looked them up on the internet. Whoever sent me the tickets requested that we go as them. I figured ‘why not?’ so, I did some checking round and found a costume place that had them.”

 “All well and good...and I really like this orange and yellow one,” stated Daphne. “Anything we should know about the characters? I mean, you know how fanboys can be, right?”

 “Aside from the fact that I’ve only been to comic shops, yes, I have an idea,” returned Velma. “Anyway, from what I researched on the ‘net, EW and DG, that’s fan-boy speak, were some super-heroine team from an obscure Saturday morning kids’ show back in the 1970’s. Apparently, the series was short-lived but still has a rather large fan-base.”

 “No super powers?” giggled Daphne, as she opened up the box containing the matching, orange boots. She took out the boots and noticed another item in the box. Placing the boots on her bed she lifted out the other item. “What the heck is this supposed to be?”

 “They were more like a female version of Batman and Robin but with way more ‘tech gadgets’, at least at the time,” explained Velma to Daphne’s first question. “As for that thing (here Velma pointed to the item in Daphne’s right hand), it was some sort of communication device. Like a two-way wrist radio.”

 “Do these things actually work?” asked Daphne.

 Velma took a closer look, said, “Nope. Just a chunk of molded plastic with a velcro band. Strictly for show.” Daphne tossed the “communicator” back into the box.

 The girls then quickly doffed their regular clothes (all except their bras and panties) and slipped on the spandex outfits. They then donned the boots. The costumes fit perfectly. “I can’t believe how well these fit, even the boots!” exclaimed Velma. She turned towards Daphne and grinned, “How do I look?”

 Daphne giggled, said, “Like a super-heroine nerd! Sorry!”

 “Oh har-de-har-har,” retorted Velma as Daphne walked over to her floor-length mirror to check out her latest purchase. “I like it! Villains beware!” grinned Daphne. “Damn! I look hot in this!” she exclaimed. “Freddy wouldn’t probably notice though. But I’m sure Shaggy would notice you,” she winked her left eye at Velma, who blushed.

 Velma sighed. Shaggy was away on business for his aunt, while Fred was up in Montreal at an international convention for traps...of course. So the girls were on their own, mystery-solving-wise. “I’ve already gone by the Civic Centre and had the tickets authenticated,” explained Velma. “Seems there’s always a bunch of counterfeit ones made every time one of these things come round so, we’re good to go.”

 “What time does it start again? I’ll want to pick you up, of course. I really wish you’d get a license, y’know,” said Daphne. She then recovered her flub. “Sorry Velma...I didn’t mean it like that...it’s just...well...having another licensed driver would come in handy, y’know?” She chided herself for the flub. “I don’t mind driving you round when you need a lift, honest!”

 “No, you’re quite correct,” returned Velma. “I really should overcome this fear of driving. I hate being such a burden to everyone.” She sighed again, heavier this time. Daphne felt about two inches tall at the moment. She silently berated herself for the heartless comment. Velma looked up at her and grinned, said, “Pick me up at 08.00? The doors open at 10.00 and I want to get there before the mob does.”

 “A two hour wait? It’ll only take ten minutes to get across town,” said Daphne.

 “Trust me on this,” replied Velma. “I’ve survived the pandemonium at a comic shop meet. This will be a hundred times worse, maybe more. I’ll be ready at 08.00.”

 “O-okay,” said Daphne as she started to remove her costume. The two girls quickly got out of costume and redressed back into their regular clothes; Velma in her brown, suede pocket-skirt and orange, button-down blouse; Daphne in her dark-blue, long-sleeve, mini-dress and navy-blue, patent-leather pumps. Neither girl had been wearing tights. Once done, they both went back downstairs and exited the front door. Daphne’s small sports-car was still parked in front of the house. The two got in and Daphne drove Velma home, promising again to return in the early morning.


 The search for Jason Wyatt was now in full force as both the Crystal Cove and Diamond Bay police co-ordinated their efforts to find him, before he did any more serious damage. A Diamond Bay patrol-car found Dominic’s car just outside the city limits, behind an abandoned petrol station. Ironically, the car had run out of petrol so, Jason had simply left it there, unmolested. The find was radioed to H.Q. and within twenty minutes, a K-9 unit was in the area sniffing for a trail and hoping to catch Jason’s scent. It was now 19.30, less than four hours since Jason’s escape. But he had had a long head-start and it was already dark in the early October evening.

 “He can’t be too far off...the car’s motour is still warm,” said Chief Pilkins as he removed his hand from the motour-block. The car had been thoroughly searched but no evidence linking it to Jason had been found. “Keep the dogs at it until we get a hit,” he said to the lieutenant in charge. Pilkins had been fortunate enough to gather a couple of objects of Jason’s from the asylum, a t-shirt and a left-footed tennis-shoe, so the dogs would have a scent to start with. It was only a matter of finding where he had left the area.

 “Yessir!” answered the lieutenant as he turned to issue more orders to his men. But it was a hopeless task. Upon further inspection of the car, police found that the petrol-tank had been punctured on purpose. Jason had apparently been crafty enough to douse part of himself with petrol, thus throwing off the dogs and their ability to sniff him out. Damn.


 “Much obliged for the ride, ma’am,” exclaimed Jason as he exited the minivan. “You sure you don’t want any money for petrol?”

 “No dear, you keep it,” said the little old lady. “It was fun just to have the company on the way to Crystal Cove. I do hope you find what you’re looking for,” she smiled and waved “good-bye” as Jason smiled back and shrugged his shoulders. He then disappeared into the night.


 Part 2

It was now  22.35...it had been an exhausting search. Unfortunately, the Diamond Bay police had come up empty-handed. The theory of Jason using petrol to throw off the dogs, was holding up. Chief Pilkins needed a lead and he needed it an hour ago. Just as he was getting ready to call everybody in, the radio in his cruiser crackled...

  SCREE-SQUAWK! “H.Q. to Car 1...H.Q. to Car 1, do you copy, over?”

 Pilkins reached in through the open driver’s-side window and grabbed up the handset...”I copy, H.Q. This is Chief Pilkins, go ahead, over.”

  “We have a witness that swears she saw a man matching the suspect’s description hitch-hiking along Rt. 231E, copy?”

  “Hot damn!” thought the Chief to himself. “I copy H.Q. Any other details? Over.”

  “Oh yes...suspected person hitched a ride in a late model, dark-red or possibly maroon minivan, license number KRW-344. We checked and it comes back registered to one ‘Olivia Halpgood, 3328 Hawthorne Lane, Diamond Bay, copy?”

 “I copy that, H.Q.,” said Pilkins. Hawthorne Lane was in an older area of town, mostly retired and elderly folks lived there. Crap. Pilkins hoped nothing bad had happened to this lady. “I’m suspending the search, H.Q. and coming in. See if you can get a lead on where Halpgood was going, copy?”

  “We copy Chief, over and out.”

 Pilkins called in his forces and they all headed back to the station. By the time they returned, the dispatcher had been able to track down one of Mrs. Halpgood’s neighbours. Luckily some of them still stayed up late into the night. The dispatcher was able to ascertain, that Halpgood was away to Crystal Cove for the weekend and was given the contact information for the residence there. A quick call to said residence confirmed that Halpgood had made it to her destination, safe and sound. Unfortunately due to her bad short-term memory, she couldn’t recall what the man looked like and had only a vague recollection of picking someone up. Not good.

 Pilkins then called Sheriff Stone’s office to alert the police in Crystal Cove that Jason Wyatt was possibly back in their city. Stone had taken the call personally as he was still going over the day’s events. Needless to say, Stone wasn’t too enthused at hearing the news. He issued a second APB with Jason’s last known description. He then put in a call to Velma’s mobile to give her the bad news.


 The morning started out on a bad note as Velma checked her messages on her mobile. “Damn!” she lamented as she listened to Stone’s latest update on Jason. She had only just awakened ten minutes before but, her sleep-addled mind quickly alerted her to this new danger. Ringing off, Velma quickly dressed in her familiar orange turtle-neck sweater but opted for an old, faded pair of blue-jeans instead of her usual mini-skirt. She completed her ensemble with an old pair of brown hiking-boots and orange crew-style socks. With her mind now much clearer, she put in a call to Daphne’s mobile, silently hoping that she had it powered up. Velma cursed herself at her own ineptitude for not leaving her own ‘phone on during the night. Daphne answered on the second ring.

 “Velma! I just got the message from Sheriff Stone! Is it true? Jason is back in Crystal Cove?” exclaimed Daphne.

 “As far as what he’s been told, yes,” answered Velma. “But I’m not going to let that stop me...I mean us, from attending the Comic-Con! I’m pretty sure Sheriff Stone and his men will find Jason.” Velma only said this to calm Daphne down. She wasn’t 100% sure Stone and his men would find Jason any time soon. She checked the clock on her bed-side table…07.25. ”Look, I’ll be ready by the time you get here Daphne, so see you in a bit.”

 “Okay Velma, see you at 08.00!” replied Daphne and she rang off. She then went into her en suite bathroom and took a quick shower. After which, Daphne toweled herself off and lightly dusted her entire body with cornstarch baby-powder which would make it easier to slip in to the snug-fitting, spandex, Electra Woman costume. She first donned a pair of “barely there” pink panties and a pink “invisible bra”; she hated to show any panty-lines. Daphne then slowly pulled on the costume, wriggling in to it’s snug confines. The costume hugged her in all the right places. Daphne blushed a bit as she realised she was starting to enjoy the feel of the spandex. Good thing she wasn’t allergic to the materiel. She then donned the boots and turned towards the floor-length mirror next to her make-up table. Standing with her legs a pace apart and her arms akimbo, fisted hands on her hips, she marveled at how great she looked in the costume, more-over how Freddy might react if he saw her dressed like this. But then, she came back down to reality and let out a sigh. Who was she kidding? The only thing Fred still noticed was his stupid trap magazines. Daphne then strapped the silly, fake communication device onto her right wrist. Glancing at her mobile’ clock which now read…07.45, she quickly gathered up her purple hand-bag and headed out of her room and downstairs.

 Daphne could see Velma sitting on the front steps as she pulled into the driveway of the Dinkley home. Her costume box sat next to her. Velma arose as Daphne’s car pulled up and walked toward it. It was a warm morning for late October, with the temperature hovering round 65F. But clouds were rapidly building up due to an approaching storm, rendering the morning darker than usual. A stiff breeze wafted though the neighbourhood as Daphne alit from her car. “How come you’re not in costume?” she asked Velma.

 “Er...um...I started having second thoughts about actually showing up in it,” stammered Velma. “Don’t worry, I can change in one of the bathrooms when we get there. Here’s your ticket and I.D. badge,” she added as she handed Daphne a small, laminated placard attached to a black, nylon lanyard, along with an admission ticket. The placard was emblazoned with the Comic-Con logo and admission information. On the back was a smaller, identical logo above a serial number, along with the pertinent Con policies. The ticket was slightly smaller and basically a copy of the placard. The only difference being the admission price and date. “We wear these badges the entire time we’re there; they allow us access to all the booths and forums,” stated Velma.

 “I’ve never seen you this psyched up for anything,” said Daphne as she got back into the driver’s seat. Velma opened the passenger’s door and pulled the seat-back forward, tossing her costume box into the small area behind it.

 “Are you kidding?” retorted Velma. “This is almost like a once-in-a-lifetime event!” She was all smiles as she got into the car and buckled up. It was now 08.05.

 “Sheriff, Sheriff Stone!” yelled Sergeant McCoombs from across the situation room.

 “What is it now, McCoombs? Can’t you see I’m busy?” replied Stone somewhat irate. He was dog-tired, having been up all night in an effort to pin down Jason’s whereabouts. He needed some fresh coffee. And a nap.

 “Sorry sir,” said McCoombs in his usual loud voice. “I think we may have a lead on our suspect.”

Stone was suddenly wide awake. “Pray tell me what you’ve found out,” said Stone, in a tired, but eager, voice.

 “Yessir!” beamed the sergeant. “A man fitting the description of our suspect, one Jason Wyatt, was seen near the entrance to the Civic Centre, sometime around 06.00 this morning.”

 “I wonder what he’d be doing at the Civic Centre?” wondered Stone aloud.

 “Beg pardon sir?” inquired McCoombs.

 “Uh...nothing, McCoombs. Never-mind. What was the suspect wearing? Doing?” asked Stone.

 “According to the description, he was wearing a dark-grey over-suit...like what a janitor or workman would wear. He also had one of those convention badges on,” returned McCoombs. “He was seen unloading a lorry and bringing equipment inside the building, through one of the side entrances,” he added.

 Stone looked up at the sergeant from his desk and said in a calm but demanding tone, “Has anyone notified security at the Civic Centre, that they might just have an escaped lunatic running round the premises?”

 “Uh...not yet, sir,” answered the sergeant.

 “Well then,” started Stone, “perhaps someone should RING THEM UP!” he yelled the last three words as he grabbed for the ‘phone’s receiver.


 “Howdy ya’ll!” greeted the parking-pot attendant as Daphne pulled her tiny sports-car into the main entrance. It was only 08.17 but the lot was already filling up. Located just across the street from the Civic Centre, it was the best parking one could get, if one could manage to get there in time. The attendant was wearing a Barney Rubble mask and Green Lantern costume, leaving none of his features distinguishable. “I reckon ya’ll’re here for the convention, right? May I see your badges, please?”

 “Oh yes, of course!” exclaimed Daphne as she held up her badge. Velma did like-wise. The attendant looked them over and spotted the small gold emblem in the upper, right-hand corner of each badge. “Hoo-ee! Free valet parking! You sure scored some great perks!” averred the attendant.

 “What do you mean?” asked Velma.

 “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” joked the attendant. “You mean, you didn’t know?”

 “Know what?” inquired Velma, further. “I...we...received these from an anonymous donor.”

 “Well, he or she must like ya’ll a lot! These are V.I.P. passes!” exclaimed the attendant. “Just pull up right over there and Don’ll take care of your car and personally escort you into the building.” 

“O-okay,” said Daphne now a bit unsure of what they were getting into. She pulled up to the indicated spot and a rather short, nerdy-looking young man, came over to greet her. He was wearing an older pair of military-issue, black-framed spectacles and was dressed up like Bat-Mite. Velma almost let out a laugh but held it in, grinning. Daphne wasn’t sure what to think as the pimply-faced Don opened her door and bade her, with a sweep of his short cape, alight from the vehicle. Velma reached in and grabbed her costume box after she and Daphne had complied, while Don got in (somewhat awkwardly) and parked the car in a spot marked “V.I.P. Parking Only”. After-which, he came back in an electric golf-cart and bade the girls to hop aboard. Neither girl noticed that the lot attendant was now missing.


 “Are you crazy?” yelled the events co-ordinator into his mobile. “Do you have any idea how many people I have working here? It would take hours to check them all out...again!”

 “I’m very sorry,” said Stone (knowing damn well he wasn’t), “but this is a police emergency.”

 “I can’t just shut down the convention! We’d be ruined! Have you any idea of the riot this could cause?” exclaimed the co-ordinator. “Not to mention the money that’d be lost?”

 “Right now that’s not my main concern,” said Stone in an even tone. “My main concern, is apprehending an escaped lunatic. Quite possibly the same lunatic that is now freely running round loose at your convention. All available units are now en route.” Stone left the co-ordinator hanging, as he briskly rang off.

 Don pulled up to the rear loading dock and parked the cart next to a lorry. Motioning the girls to get out and follow him, the trio ascended the cement stairs and entered through an open emergency exit door. He eyed Velma’s costume box. “Follow me and I’ll show you where you can change into your costume,” he said as winked his left eye at Velma. Velma blushed a bit. A few steps more down the darkened passageway, brought the trio to a maze of doors. “In here,” said Don as he indicated a room marked “Science Lab 5”. “When you’re ready, give a knock on the door. I’ll be waiting just outside and I can take you to the forum room for the Krofft Q & A.”

 “What’s that?” asked Daphne.

 “You must be new to this. Am I right?” inquired Don.

 “Oh, don’t mind her,” chipped in Velma. “I’ll clew her in.” She grinned back at Don and then she and Daphne entered the “Science Lab”, which was nothing more than a standard, eight-stall, women’s bathroom.

 “So...what’s a forum and Q & A?” asked Daphne as Velma quickly got out of her sweater and jeans.

 “It’s like a panel of paid speakers. Usually someone that was either involved in the shows or fan-boys that are proficient in them. Some panels feature just a Q & A or ‘Question & Answer’ session, while others can include artists, film-makers and the like,” explained Velma. “Apparently, these badges of ours allow us full access to all of the events.”

 “You are such a nerdette!” giggle Daphne as Velma finished squeezing into her costume.

 “Whatever,” grinned back Velma. “At any rate, I was lucky enough to get a costume that had lower boot heels. You know I can barely walk in high heels,” she added. Her boots and fake communicator donned, the girls headed for the door. A crowd was gathering outside at the front of the building and there were a few peeks of sunlight struggling to get through the heavy cloud cover. There was no-one else in the passageway, save for Don. Velma knocked on the door as instructed to which Don opened it up and bade the girls follow him one more time. Thirty metres more down the passageway brought them all to another series of doors. Don indicated the one marked “Krofft Panel Q & A” and opening the door, ushered the girls inside. Velma was agog at what lie within. The room was a complete replica of Electra Woman & Dyna Girl’s headquarters, from the television series. There were even some trap props set up, including two large, clear tubes set on “sci-fi-techie”-looking bases, in the middle of the room. There were no other people in the room.

 “You pretty much have the place to yourselves, until 10.15,” stated Don. “After that, the first panel convenes. If you want or need anything, just press this call button over here,” he said as he motioned over to the left to the entry door. Enjoy!” he added as he exited the room. The door closed with a faint click...then another, slightly louder, click. Velma was too absorbed in her surroundings to notice as was Daphne. Both girls approached the mock-up of the main controlle panel, similar to the one seen on the show. Velma ran her fingers over the many buttons; the various coloured lights winking on and off.

 “Do any of these buttons really do anything?” asked Daphne.

 “No, they’re just fake,” answered Velma as she pushed a blue button on the left side of the panel. Within a split second, a greenish gas started to quickly emit from a speaker-box atop the controlle panel.

 “Wh-what...what’s th-that?” said Daphne as she covered her mouth and nose with her gloved hand.

 “I…I don’t know!” exclaimed Velma as both girls started to cough; the gas quickly spreading to engulf them. Velma stumbled away from the controlle panel but it was too late. She fell to the floor on her left side, landing hard. Her glasses came tumbling off her face to land a half metre away. Daphne had succumbed at almost the same moment as, she too, gave into the gas and slumped over the middle of the controlle panel, before finally falling limply to the floor, rolling onto her back...her arms splayed out. 



Meanwhile, Sheriff Stone and all available units were rapidly approaching the Civic Centre, sirens blaring. It was now 08.35.

 Meanwhile, a gloved hand pulled the “Krofft Panel Q & A” label off the door. A maniacal laugh filled the empty passageway. Calmly, a man wearing a Green Lantern costume with a Barney Rubble mask over his head, unlocked the door to the room and entered. He gloated as he eyed his two victims, lying on the floor...quite unconscious. The knock out gas had done its job well. A vacuum hidden under the controlle panel, had evacuated all traces of the gas soon after the girls had passed out. The costumed character walked over to the panel an raised the fake controlle-board to reveal the inside. Therein he found what he had placed there earlier; a few coils of hemp rope and a roll of gray duct tape. He busily got to work binding first Velma, then Daphne. Tightly securing them both at ankles, above their knees, and mid-thighs. He then rolled each over in turn and bound their wrists, crossed, behind their backs. After-which, he ran more lengths of the rope round their mid torsos, securing their arms to their backsides. Lastly, he tore off a strip of the wide duct tape, one for each girl, and sealed their mouths shut. He located Velma’s glasses and placed them back on her face.

 The police were just now rounding the corner only two blocks from the Civic Centre. Onlookers stared, agape, wondering what was going on as traffic quickly moved aside to let the cruisers pass.

 Meanwhile, “Barney-Lantern”, pressed a green button on the left side of the controlle panel and the two clear, plexiglass tubes, arose from their bases. He first took Velma to the one on the left and while standing her in an upright position, pressed a button at the base of the device. The tube slowly lowered and encased Velma as the man slowly withdrew, making sure she didn’t slump down before the tube closed. Satisfied, he repeated the procedure with Daphne.

 The events co-ordinator met Sheriff Stone at the main entrance to a hail of shouts by the many fans lined up. Some thought that this was part of the convention, while others sniffed out that something else was going on. Half of Stone’s force of forty men, held back the crowd while the others filtred inside the vast building. While the co-ordinator explained to the crowd that there would be a short delay in opening, Stone and the rest of his men spread out to search for Jason. They were unaware that Daphne and Velma had been captured, much less that they were even in the building.

 Daphne awoke first. Blinking her eyes open, she soon realised she was securely bound and gagged. What was worse, was that she was encased in one of the tubes. She looked to her left and saw Velma was in pretty much the same predicament. “MMMMFFF! NNNUGGG!!” she tried to speak to no avail. Velma was slowly coming to. Their costumed captor gleefully rubbed his gloved hands as he stood just centimetres away.

 “I’ve been waiting for you two!” he exclaimed with a sneer. Daphne and Velma both stared hard at him, trying to place his voice. Unfortunately, his mask disguised even that. “Can’t figure it out yet? Has the great Velma Dinkley been outwitted by a cartoon character?BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!

 “HHMMFFR GGNUNNM?” Velma tried to ask but, of course, she couldn’t.

 “Oh, this is too fantastic!” said “Barney-Lantern”. “You really have no clew, do you?” Here, he slowly removed his mask. Daphne’s eyes went wide and she struggled uselessly. Velma remained calm and wasn’t really all that surprised. She could see it all now...the tickets and badges...the costumes...the convenient parking and escort...a perfect set-up. Jason Wyatt now had them both. She didn’t like this, not one bit. He came a bit closer to them...

 “We’ve gone over the whole area, sir!” exclaimed Sergeant McCoombs. “Nothing!”

 “What about the back rooms?” inquired Stone. “He has to be hiding somewhere in here!” Just at that moment, one of the patrol-officers approached the sheriff with a pimply-faced and bespectacled man. He wore thick military-style glasses and was dressed like Bat-Mite. 

“Sheriff Stone, sir…this...uh...man, says he knows where the suspect might be hiding,” said the patrolman.

 Stone looked at the short man said, "Well? Out with it man! Where’s he hiding?” 

“P-p-please...d-don’t hurt m-me!” said Don as he cringed under Stone’s glaring eyes. “H-he p-paid me to take the g-girls into the f-forum rooms. Said it was his l-little joke on them. I thought nothing of it and went along, heh.”

 “I’m not laughing,” said Stone in an even tone. “He paid you to take who?”

 “A c-couple of girls...I think their names are Daphne and Vera,” said the nervous Don.

 “Do you mean ‘Daphne and Velma’?” asked Stone.

 “Oh, y-es sir! Yes, s-s-sir, that’s them!” stammered Don.

 “Then...take us too them...NOW!” bellowed Stone. 

“Y’know, I’ve always had a thing for super-heroines,” started Jason. “Especially when they are about to meet their demise!” He walked back over to the controlle panel. His left fore-finger finger hovered over a big, red button, smack in the middle of the panel.

 “Hoo boy! Here we go again!” thought Velma. The ropes were too tight. Not that it mattered. Daphne had given up her struggling. She wished Freddy or Shaggy were here to rescue them. That was usually the way these things were supposed to go. But then, Shaggy was usually the “bait”.

 “Back there!” said Don to Sergeant McCoombs. “He had the room for the Krofft panel set-up.”

 “Which room? I don’t see that label anywhere!” said the now frantic sergeant, wondering what a “Krofft panel” was.

“I suppose I could tell you two how I managed this but…I won’t!” gloated Jason, as he pushed the big, red button. “You can take all those questions to your fucking GRAVES!” He laughed his maniacal laugh again as Velma and Daphne struggled in vain to get free from an ominous blue-green-gray gas, now seeping into the tubes from the jets below them.

  CRAAAASH!! went the door as Sergeant McCoombs burst through it with a battering ram. “POLICE! FREEZE!” he yelled as he dropped the ram and withdrew his gun from his right-side holster. Stone and four other officers followed. Stone summed up the situation in the blink of an eye.

 “Shut that thing down! NOW! he bellowed at Jason.

 “NOOOOO!! NOT AGAIN! screamed Jason as he made a dash for the door, only to get pounced upon by the other four officers and Sergeant McCoombs. The tubes were now about half full of the lethal gas; Daphne and Velma were both holding their breath trying desperately not to inhale any of it. Stone quickly reached the controlle panel but, he had no clew of how to shut off the gas in the tubes.

 “You tell me how to shut this thing off or I’ll personally see to it that you don’t make it to gaol!” exclaimed the sheriff.

 Defeated, Jason gave in. ”Quick! Hit the big, orange button to the left of that big, red one!” Stone complied and within seconds, the gas was evacuated out of the tubes. “Now push that green button...on the left there...it’ll open up the tubes.” Two off the officers cautiously went over to grab the girls and keep them from falling over when the tubes raised. Jason had already been cuffed at both his wrists and ankles and was now being carried out of the room, by McCoombs and one of the patrolmen. Stone grabbed at his lapel radio and put in a call for a couple of ambulances and the haz-mat squad. Velma and Daphne were quickly unfettered and the super-sticky tape painfully removed from their mouths. It was finally over. Or was it? Heh, heh, heh...


  EPILOGUE: Both Daphne and Velma suffered no ill effects from the gas. But as it was mainly a mixture of freon gases, had they actually inhaled any of it, it would have brought about a very slow death to each girl, via suffocation. They both made a full recovery.

 Jason, once again, avoided a direct court battle as he was ruled too mentally deranged to stand trial. He was remanded to the new mental facility in Crystal Cove for the criminally insane for the rest of his life, under the maximum security ward.

 The Comic-Con was a huge hit with the local nerd population, despite the fact that a few forums were cancelled. Once the true story had been revealed, the events co-ordinator ensured both Velma and Daphne, that they would be the honoured guests at the next convention. Both girls denied the invitation to attend. Really, who could blame them for refusing?

 ~Fini.

 T. Slater (a.k.a. Torpedo585) March-June, 2012 (re-written, 5 June, 2015)