Chapter Text
It's not like she'd told them that it was an old mining town. She had. She absolutely had – there wasn't a lot to see here, and yet, Daphne had insisted because “she wanted to punch a real ghost, this time” and, apparently, Las Vegas, New Mexico was the place to find a real ghost.
They'd had an argument about how ghosts weren't real (but always someone disguising themselves as something else), but when news of a so called haunting in the Plaza Hotel made it to the local Coolsville news, well, they'd gotten into Fre'ds van and driven across half of the country to get there.
Shaggy had first thought that they were going to the real Las Vegas, but Velma had told him that no, they were going to another one. The one which is an old ghost town and where people like Doc Holliday, Jesse James, Billy the Kid and Wyatt Earp all probably met and had drinks at before it all went to hell in the OK Corral. Or something like that anyway.
It's not like they're specialists – they're in their first year at University. Velma's 18 now, so it hadn't been a problem to convince her family to let her go on this roadtrip. Besides, Fred and Shaggy are both 21 and Daphne is 19. She isn't sure whether or not Scooby counts, but he's gotta be up there too – dog years or not. It's a miracle that Shaggy had gotten accepted in the first place, but it turns out that when he's not having an anxiety attack (Scoob is, after all, his service dog), he's got quite the brains.
So, now why would they have come to an old Western town in the middle of New Mexico?
That's exactly what Shaggy asks, just as the Mystery Machine (the unofficial nickname of Fred's van) is turning around the bend down by the train station.
“So, like, why are we in this city again? It's like, giving me the creeps.”
Velma rolls her eyes. “That's just because it's dusk and we've been driving all day. You just need to eat something, we'll find a place to park the van and then we can find a place to sleep.”
Daphne shares a look with Velma, before Fred makes the final turn, around the Plaza, and up to the dimly lit Plaza Hotel. It's a three-story brick building with an intricate facade, and when they all step out of the van, they have different reactions: Fred nods to himself, Daphne exclaims “wow, that's cool!”, Velma cleans her glasses and Shaggy lets Scoob walk in front of him, in the hopes that he'd protect him from the building.
“It doesn't look haunted,” is the first thing Daphne says, and Fred shrugs. “The news said that there was a malevolent spirit in there and that it's been luring kids away from playgrounds, I don't see how that is supposed to be happening here. Why would a kid walk in here?”
“There are no malevolent spirits,” Velma corrects, as she readjusts the glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“Well, it feels like there's something cold and dead watching us from inside,” Shaggy says through grit teeth, and it kind of sounds like Scooby Doo says “yes” in that specific grunt of his.
“Well, that's where we're sleeping anyway, so we're going in,” Fred adds, as he makes sure the doors to the van are locked, picking up the bags they've prepared for the trip. Half of Shaggy's were filled with food, Velma's are filled with books and clothes, Daphne has filled half of the van with her clothes, and Fred has a nifty little backpack with all the items he usually brings when he's out with the Scouts.
The hotel looks exactly like it feels it should on the inside – there is a high-ceilinged entrance, and the lobby is connected to the second floor by twin staircases. There are pictures on the walls, black and white and sepia, and upon further inspection, Velma realizes that the names scratched on the bottom of them say “Doc Holliday and Earps”. She hadn't thought that they'd actually lived there, but apparently... Well, they had. She knows some westerns have been filmed here, she's seen some of them at the library in Coolsville before leaving for New Mexico but hadn't found any signs of the weeping woman in them.
As if La Llorona was real. She shrugs to herself, as Daphne walks over to her with a key.
The room smells of old whiskey and cigarettes. There's a stain on the floor that looks a bit like dried blood, but Velma pulled the carpet over it before Daphne could see it. Otherwise, she'd have freaked out about it. Stains and Daphne? Not a good combination.
“So, what do you think about this whole Llorona thing?” Daphne asks. She's laid herself out onto the twin bed, wearing a purple nightgown and a hairband keeping her fiery hair out of her face. “I think it's a Wendigo and not a ghost, but if it's a wendigo, it means I can punch it in the face, instead of through the face.”
Velma looks up from the maps she's taken copies of at the library, back in Coolsville, and frowns. “You know, I'm not sure. It's said that the mythological creature of the weeping woman used to be quite famous around here and that kids shouldn't be left alone outside because she'd find them and then she'd drown them in the hopes of getting her own children back. But that's not true – ghosts aren't real. It's just the haunting feeling of knowing that something terrible happened somewhere.” Velma nods at herself, hoping that her rationalization of the idea is keeping the terrible spirits at bay.
“Well, I want to punch her in the face regardless,” Daphne claims, as she turns around to lie on her back and look up at the ceiling.
“D'you think Shaggy and Scoob will be alright?” Velma asks, and Daphne chuckles.
“Sure, we've brought them to a haunted hotel in the middle of the desert. They'll do fine,” she snorts, looking at Velma as if she's the biggest idiot in the world. Velma laughs at the thought too.
“They're probably shivering under the blankets as we're speaking.”
(Shaggy was actually busy eating the pizza he'd asked the kitchen to heat for him, while Scoob was chasing a fly around the room they'd put him in.)
(Fred, on the other hand, was already snoring loud enough to wake the dead).
It wasn't like they were expecting it per se, but when the faucet in the bathroom started unscrewing itself, seemingly on its own, Velma's hand immediately want for her glasses on the bedside table, while Daphne almost jumped out of the bed in the hopes of tackling whatever it was. But, by the time Velma found her glasses and the string for the bedside table lamp, the water was running on its own and the faucet was quiet again.
About five minutes later, Shaggy's scream of terror brought Velma out of her investigative mood. The two girls immediately got out of their room, to a corridor filled with smoke and the sound of a crying woman: there were traces of watery steps on the floor, as if someone drenched had just walked passed the room.
“FRED! DAPHNE! VELMA! SHE'S HERE!” Shaggy cries out, and the barks that can only belong to Scoob seem to confirm the idea that whatever is haunted this place is currently going after Shaggy and Scoob.
Running down the twin stairs one behind the other, Velma, Daphne and Fred end up inside the light grey mist and the scent reminds Velma of popcorn for some reason, but her nose hits Daphne's shoulder as they stop up and her glasses topple off the edge of her nose.
In the commotion following that, Velma falls to her knees and starts searching for the dark rimmed glasses as she hears the receding footsteps of her friends. “My glasses!” she exclaims, fingers trying to find the glasses on the floor.
She can't see anything – because she's practically blind without the glasses, but also because of the thick smoke – but when her hand lands on something that is definitely NOT her glasses but feels more like a shoe, she freezes.
It doesn't feel like the shoe of a weeping ghost woman, but it feels like a tactical military boot and she wouldn't have thought that La Llorona would be wearing that. So, when she lets out a “What the-” someone else interrupts her and she vaguely sees a hand in front of her, handing her back her glasses.
“Are these your glasses?” the voice asks, and she has never heard it before, but she's absolutely sure that it's got some tiny midwestern twang in it, and if she were more of a specialist she'd place it as being from Iowa, but she's not sure, it could also be Missouri, and when she finally places the dark glasses on her nose the man in front of her becomes clear as day in spite of the smoke around them.
He's got short sandy colored hair and even though there's barely any light, he's got the clearest blue eyes she's ever seen – it's like there's a thunderstorm raging inside of them, but they exude confidence and she knows that he won't hurt her. She doesn't know why, but she can just feel it. There's something around his face, and she realizes it's night goggles just before he takes her hand and pulls her to her feet.
“Lady, you alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost!” he says, and approximately half a second later he begins laughing at a joke he's apparently the only one to understand.
“I'm sorry, wha-” she begins, the words catching in her throat as she tries to figure out what the hell is going on.
He laughs a little bit more before putting his hand to his ear. “Yeah, I know, copy that, roger, whatever it is you say, but this girl looked like she needed my help- yea- no- oh come on!”
He rolls his eyes at whoever it was he was talking to (in an earpiece? What? Is? Going? On?) and looks at her. “Sorry I laughed, but you look like you've seen something like a ghost, and what with the whole spooky stuff going on around here, I just-” he starts laughing again before something interrupts him – probably someone talking in whatever earpiece it was that he had in his ear – and he loses the relaxed attitude and puts out his hand again.
“Lady, you gotta get out of here, the gas will knock us out if we stay in it any longer than this.”
And, before she knows it, Velma's put her hand in his and he sweeps her off her feet, and even though she closes her eyes because that's all she can do, she feels him running, hears the crash of a glass window and suddenly they're floating mid-air.
Or so she believes until they touch the ground and she sees he's ziplined out of the hotel.
“Wha- who- wait, what?”
He's even more impressive out in the street lights because now she can see that he's got a bow strapped across his chest, there's arrows in a quiver on his back (so that's what she was trying to hang onto!) and he looks like he should be a part of a secret organisation, not hunting fake ghost in the middle of nowhere New Mexico.
“I'm Clint, Clint Barton.”
He puts out his hand and smiles at her, and she almost smiles back but then she sees the silhouettes of Fred, Daphne and Shaggy sprinting at him, and before she even gets a “Wait, no, stop!” out, Scooby Doo has tackled the pretty blonde man and thrown him to the ground, face first into the dirt.
“Jinkies.”