AN: Been a while since I've posted anything complete for this fandom.

Scars

Shaggy was in the bus station on his last connection before he met the rest of the gang when a faint whistling noise made everything go wrong.

"Incoming!" Shaggy screamed in warning.

The people in the bus station stared as he threw himself to the ground and crawled behind the nearest bit of cover.

Several people stepped back, eager to get away from the crazed transient hiding under the bench. One, a uniformed police sergeant, stepped forward.

"Easy soldier," the policeman said in a soothing voice, "you're safe now." He knew the signs and the debt owed, even if the man was dressed as a hippie, the debt remained. He edged his way closer to the quivering man. "Ain't no charlie here, you're safe now. I promise."

A minute passed and Shaggy freed himself from the ghosts of his past. "Sorry," he said, his face flushed. "That hasn't happened in a while."

"I understand," the police officer said, "come on, I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

"Thanks," Shaggy said gratefully. He picked up his pack with trembling hands and followed the Police officer into the cafe.

"I landed at Incheon," the cop said as they sat down. "Spent a couple years seeing things I'd rather forget."

"One oh one in Nam," Shaggy replied. "Finished my year early."

"Section 8?" the officer asked cautiously.

"Medical. I forgot to duck too many times," Shaggy laughed. "I didn't go crazy till after I got back."

"Everyone gets a little of it," the policeman said quickly. "I still dream I'm back in Korea sometimes."

"I wake up wondering why I'm not still in the jungle every week or two," Shaggy laughed. "Always brings a smile to my face when I realize I haven't been there in a couple years."

They each sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes until the policeman chose to break it.

"I drove a tank, still miss it sometimes. Would have stayed in the army forever if not for the people telling me what to do and the others shooting at me," the cop laughed. "Shame I can't just buy an M46 and a thousand acres to drive it in."

"Yeah," Shaggy agreed. "I always thought driving over trees looked fun."

"What'd you do?"

"Scout dogs, much easier to have a dog in the real world."

"Ever think about becoming a police officer?"

"Working as a private detective right now," Shaggy replied. "Heard of Mystery Inc?"

"Think so, the guys who go after the rubber masks?"

"That's us," Shaggy agreed. "Meeting up with my friends in the next town for a case."

"Ghost haunting an old amusement park," the officer replied.

"Something like that anyway," Shaggy agreed. "It'll end up being some idiot trying to get a bit of money somehow for some reason that makes sense to them."

"Why not just nab 'em to start with?"

"We poke around a bit looking for clues, best to wait for the collar till after we're sure who they're working with, how they're doing it, and why. Makes your job easier." Shaggy grinned. "We go after the sorts of people that aren't worth the local department's time for the most part."

"Small crimes lead to big crimes," the officer replied.

"Sometimes," Shaggy agreed. "Sometimes it's just some mostly harmless wacko."

IIIIIIIIII

Shaggy left the cafe and didn't make it more than half a block when a scream caused him to turn around.

"MY PURSE!" an old woman screamed.

Shaggy turned to see a large man running towards him with the aforementioned purse clutched in one hand.

"Outta my way, hippie!" the thug shouted.

Old reflexes came to the fore and before he'd realized what he was doing, Shaggy's left hand rose to meet the man's jaw, sending him out for the count.

"Forgot how much that hurt," Shaggy mumbled to himself, shaking his sore hand. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," the old woman agreed. "Thank you, young man."

"Always happy to help."

"Just can't stay outta trouble, huh, soldier?" the officer from before asked with a grin as he approached the scene. The thug was just starting to stir. "Your work?"

"Thought I broke my hand for a minute," Shaggy agreed.

"Get a pair of knuckles or a sap for next time," the officer laughed as he cuffed and searched the thug before the man had a chance to come back to his senses. "Much easier on the hands."

"Like, I'm hoping it doesn't become a habit," Shaggy said nervously. "Do you need me to come down to the station?"

"Nah, I got your name and can contact you if this moron's stupid enough to let this go to trial and we need you to testify."

"Great, I-" Shaggy glanced at his watch. "Don't suppose you know a cheap place to get a room for the night?"

"Missed the bus?"

"Yeah," Shaggy agreed.

"How far you headed?"

"Two towns over," Shaggy replied.

"Help me get this guy to the station and I'll see if I can get you a ride," the cop said, dragging the still dazed thug to his feet.

Two hours later, Shaggy was hustled into a state patrolman's squad car and barreling down the highway.

"What'd you do to get the locals to call in a favor?" the state cop in the driver's seat asked calmly.

"Stopped a purse snatcher and missed my bus," Shaggy replied.

"That all?" the passenger prompted.

"Pretty much," Shaggy agreed.

"Told us you used to be a dog handler," the driver said, glancing into the rearview mirror to see the reaction.

"Yeah," Shaggy agreed.

"You ever train a gun dog?"

"Helped a neighbor when I was a kid," Shaggy replied. "What do you need 'em to do?"

IIIIIIIIII

The gang had taken over a corner booth at the town's only diner to get lunch and to discuss the details of their next case when Scooby's ears perked up.

"Like, what's the mystery?" Shaggy announced himself, flopping into the booth next to Velma and stealing a handful of fries.

"There's a ghost haunting one of the local cemeteries," Freddie replied. "We're here to stop them."

"Coolsville." Shaggy made eye contact with the waitress. "Two triple bacon chili cheeseburgers, three orders of garlic fries, a large strawberry shake, and two vanillas."

"Commin right up, darlin," the woman agreed.

Shaggy made short work of his meal and was about to order a second course when Freddie stopped him. "Sorry, Shag, but I was hoping we could get a look at the scene of the crime while we still had some light."

"Sure," Shaggy agreed. "Like, I can always finish up after the sun goes down."

They paid for their meals and walked down the street. The sign was the first thing Shaggy saw and he felt himself going cold as he realized just what he was looking at.

"Something wrong, Shag?" Freddie asked, concerned by the strange expression on his friend's face.

"You didn't say it was a veterans' cemetery, Freddie," Shaggy said flatly. "Or that the ghost was busting up the place."

"I didn't know," Freddie replied. He gave Shaggy an unreadable look. "What's say we go back to the hotel and get started on this mystery tomorrow morning, gang?"

"Like, you guys go ahead," Shaggy said softly, his eyes locked on the date engraved on one of the toppled headstones. "I saw a sandwich place down the street I want to try out first."

"Enjoy yourself, Shaggy," Freddie agreed. "Come on, girls."

Shaggy waited until the van was out of sight before he turned to his partner. "You got anything?"

"Rah," Scooby agreed.

"Give me a minute." He straightened up, almost looking like a different person as he walked into the sandwich shop.

"What'll it be?" the clerk behind the counter asked.

"Two rolls of quarters," Shaggy said, laying a twenty on the counter and a ten beside it. "Change is yours."

"Yes, sir." The clerk handed over the paper wrapped rolls of coins. "Will that be all?"

"How late are you open?" Shaggy asked, putting one roll in his left coat pocket and the other in his right.

"We're open till midnight."

"I'll be back," Shaggy stated, walking out to rejoin his partner.

"Ru ready?" Scooby asked.

"Take me to them," Shaggy ordered goof ball gone, replaced by the ghost of the soldier he used to be.

He followed his partner through the tombs and into a small forested area at the back of the memorial grounds. A snapped twig caused them both to freeze as their ears tried to pinpoint the origin of the sound.

With almost glacial slowness, Scooby turned his nose to point. "Rover there."

"I got him," Shaggy whispered back. The former GI watched as the 'ghost' snuck out of the bushes and walked towards the cemetery for another night of vandalism. "Flush the bastard."

The dog huffed and circled around to drive the man towards his handler. Adrenaline filled the beast's heart as he bellowed his war cry, teeth tearing a piece off the man's jacket. The dog had almost forgotten what he felt like to be on the offense, forgotten what it was like to be the one inspiring fear in the hearts of others. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Scooby's thoughts distracted him just enough for his panicking prey to tear free in a futile attempt to escape. If the dog had been alone, his prey might have managed a thirty feet before he was run down. As it happened, Shaggy's foot caught the fleeing man in the groin before he'd made ten, knocking him to the ground. The former soldier's follow up kicks knocked out a couple of the vandal's teeth and broke three ribs.

Shaggy reached down and grabbed the vandal by the back of the jacket, right hand entering his pocket to wrap around the coins. A couple rights to the jaw made the struggling man go slack, a couple more to the body helped show just how little some people thought of his actions.

"What's say we go back to that hamburger place down the street after we finish our sandwiches?"

"Rah," the dog agreed enthusiastically.

Shaggy dragged his captive to the front of the cemetery and spent a few minutes assuring that the man would be there when the police arrived to collect him. That job done, he walked down the street to the sandwich shop.

"Can I get you anything else, sir?" the man behind the counter asked upon his best tipping customer of the week's return.

"Like, you have a pay phone I can use?"

"Booth across the street," the man replied.

"Thanks. I'll have a double ham, turkey, anchovy, peanut butter and jelly, sauerkraut, banana, bacon, tomato, and mustard sardine sandwich."

"Ru, ron rye," the dog added.

"Right, two of them on rye to go," Shaggy agreed. "I'll be back for them after I finish my call."

"That'll be one dollar and fifty cents," the man said, figuring that the boy was pulling his leg. "Dollar eighty if you want sodas to go with 'em."

"Like, here's two," Shaggy said, sliding the money across the counter. "I don't need change."

"Be out and wrapped up for you to take them in a couple minutes," the man said cheerfully.

Shaggy walked out of the restaurant to the pay phone, took the phone off the hook, fed it a dime, and dialed the number for the local police station. "It's about the ghost that's been vandalizing the veterans cemetery, he's tied to the front gate and he's going to need an ambulance."

"Rand a rentist," Scooby reminded his partner.

"And a dentist," Shaggy repeated. "He looks like he tripped and fell a bunch of times before he managed to tie himself up." Duty done, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully wiped off the phone before putting it on the hook. "Let's go, Scoob."

IIIIIIIIII

Mystery Incorporated's two female members were in the middle of a heated argument on the probable identity and motivation of their latest target as they walked out of their shared hotel room and towards the van the next morning.

"Another thing that supports-" Daphne said as they opened the back of the van. Both girl's eyes bulged when they took in the partially dressed Shaggy in the back. "Sorry!" she blurted as the door slammed shut.

The girls backed away from the van and stared at each other till Velma couldn't take the silence any longer. "Did you see those scars?"

"Forget the scars, when did Shaggy get muscles?" Daphne licked her lips.

"Baggy tops cover a lot."

"You would know."

"Hey!"

The two girls went silent for a few moments until Daphne decided to break it. "So are you going to ask him or should I?"

"Which one of us has always been better at getting men to do what they want?" Velma shot back.

"Why don't you try and we can see," Daphne said with a grin. "You never know."

"Not a chance, Daph."

"Maybe next time then," the redheaded beauty sighed.

"Why are you two waiting outside?" Freddie asked as he walked up.

"Shaggy's changing inside," Velma replied, the blush on her cheeks the only hint on how she'd come into that bit of information.

"Guess he got back late and didn't want to risk waking me up," Freddie said. "I'd wondered where he was when I got up earlier."

The door opened and their friend's head poked out. "Like, let's get this show on the road."

"Rah, rere rissing rekfast," Scooby agreed.

Freddie kept up a constant stream of chatter as they rode back to the cemetery, distracting his companions from their thoughts while doing his best to try to figure out the cause for the rest of the crew's strange behavior.

The chief of police was waiting at the front gates of the cemetery when the gang arrived.

"Looks like you kids don't have a case after all," the man called out in greeting. "Turns out it was a crooked developer named Winters who wanted to bulldoze the cemetery and turn it into a housing development."

"Golly." Freddie gave a low whistle. "How'd you catch him?"

The policeman's eyes were fixed on Shaggy's battered knuckles, remembering a few bits of the man's confession that had been mysteriously absent from the submitted report. "Seems one of the real ghosts took offense to a fake messing up their territory."

"You want us to find the ghost that caught the fake ghost?" Velma asked.

"Nah, a ghost that causes trouble is something I don't like in my town. A ghost that solves trouble can stay as long as it likes."

"Guess this mystery's been solved, gang," Freddie said with a grin.

"Like, I guess that means it's time to get breakfast," Shaggy replied with a grin. "Meet you back at the hotel."

Velma gave Daphne a look filled with meaning, sending the other girl skittering off after their friend.

"Shaggy, wait up!" the redhead called out.

"What's up, Daph?" the man asked, slowing down a bit so she could catch up.

"So, Shaggy," the girl began.

"Yeah?"

"Velma and I were wondering something about you."

"What is it?"

"Where'd you get those scars? They look like they must have come from a really bad injury . . . Shaggy are you okay?"

"Like . . . I crashed my bike," he said with an embarrassed smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Seems like an awful lot of scars for just one crash," Daphne said doubtfully.

"Who said it was just one?" Shaggy flashed his teeth. "You know how clumsy I can be." He quickened his pace. "Sorry I can't stay to chat, Daphne, but, like, I'm starving."

"Rut, rere rarving," Scooby corrected. "Rome ron, Raggy, rurry rup."

She stared after her friend until he'd disappeared into the diner, trying to decide if she should chase after him or let him go.

"Well?" Velma's voice shocked the other girl back to reality.

"He said he got 'em in a bike accident," Daphne replied, voice hollow.

"Those didn't look like the kinds of scars you get in a bike accident."

"I know."

"They look like-" Velma's breath quickened.

"I know," Daphne said firmly, sounding as if she was on the verge of tears.

"But this is Shaggy," Velma protested.

"We didn't see him for more than two years after we all graduated," Daphne said softly. "He was just starting university when we met up again."

"Typical Shaggy," Velma said desperately. "Having to repeat a year or . . . or . . . hitchhiking around the country or something."

"What if it wasn't that?"

"We could ask him again."

"I'll give daddy a call," Daphne decided after a moment of careful thought. "He knows a lot of people and has a lot of favors he can call in."

AN: Been writing this for a long time, decided to split it off from the next several pages that will be spun off into a part three at some later date which is hopefully sooner than the time between this one and the first part.

Beta by dogbertcarroll

Typo by Red Jacobson

Omake by BenRG

Fred groaned as he screeched, feeling the bruises on his ribcage a little too clearly as he strode back towards the team's van, still where it had stopped after Hubbard's goons had run them off the road.

"Shaggy, come on!" he called out. "We need to come up with a plan on how we're going to rescue Daphne and Velma from Judge Hubbard's gang! Shaggy, where...?"

Fred stopped dead as his highly-strung friend stepped out of the Mystery Machine's side door. At least... Fred realised it was Shaggy on his third look. It hadn't seemed like him at first. Shaggy, after all,
normally didn't wear camo pants, a light vest with his dogtags clearly visible and kept his scruffy hair out of his face with a camo green bandana. Shaggy never had a belt around his waist with the holster for an automatic pistol and the most fearsome knife Fred could imagine. Shaggy never had an assault rifle slung over his shoulder, a bulging satchel full of ammo and was never seen cooly loading what Fred recognized from his youth on his Uncle Cyde's farm as a Browning semi-automatic shotgun. Fred couldn't say that he had ever seen Shaggy like this before. This wasn't his lazy bon-vivant friend... This was a soldier.

"Shaggy?"

Shaggy looked up at his young, brave but somewhat naive friend with a smile that utterly failed to reach his eyes. "Hey, Fred," he said. "Like, I'm going after those goons that took the girls!" There was a fearsome "KLA-KATCH" as Shaggy yanked back on his shotgun's slide to load the first shell into the breach. Then he slung it over his shoulder, swung around his rifle and pulled a curved magazine out of his satchel and slid it into the receiver with the ease of a professional.

"You're going after them yourself?" was all Fred could think of to say.

Shaggy shrugged. "Better odds than I had to deal with back in the 'Nam!"

Fred shook his head, both angry and scared. "You're not doing anything on your own! I'm coming...!" Fred's words were cut off when Shaggy suddenly grabbed his shoulder.

"Fred, no. I'll do this. I've got to do this. It'd be easier to stop breathing than let those creeps hurt the girls." The scruffy man grinned lopsidedly. "Besides, you'll only get in my way! Like, I'm used to working on my own!" Fred bristled and was about to insist that he help when Shaggy interrupted him before he could say a word. "You take the Mystery Machine out to the bridge out of town and wait for us there." Shaggy pulled back the M-16's charging handle in a well-practiced motion. "All goes well and we'll be able to wrap things up then and there. Worst case, we'll need to make a quick evac."

Fred swallowed and nodded. "Um... What if they come looking for me?"

Shaggy considered that for a moment and then reached into is satchel and pulled out a MAC-10 machine pistol. "You see any of those creeps? Point this at them, like squeeze the trigger and hold it down until you don't see them anymore." He put the weapon into Fred's hand. It took all the younger man's self-control not to scream and drop it.

"Hey! Scoob!"

Scooby, looking uncertain but determined, exited the Mystery Machine and walked over. "Res?"

Shaggy pulled out what Fred recognised as one of Velma's white socks. Only an ex-Catholic schoolgirl like Velma would still wear stuff like that. Fred decided that he didn't want to know why Shaggy had one of her socks stuffed in the pocket of his pants. "Take a sniff of this ol' pal!" Scooby took a pull. "Can you tell us where she is?"

Scooby put his nose to the ground and started sniffing, walking in a wide semi-circle around the two men. "Res! Go ris way!" The big liver-coloured Great Dane pointed out towards the woods.

Shaggy smirked. "Good. Like, I like hunting in the woods!"

"Shaggy, I..." Shaggy looked into Fred's eyes, really looked, for the first time this surreal night. What Fred saw there made his blood run cold. This wasn't his friend. This was something out of his nightmares. Something a young Psychology major shouldn't ever have to see.

"I'll meet you at dawn at the bridge," Shaggy reminded his young friend. "Until then, keep your head down. They're gonna be expecting us to keep out of the way to protect the girls, so they aren't likely to come looking for you and, like, sure aren't gonna be expecting me to come calling." Fred nodded. "Like, let's go, Scoob!"

Scooby put his nose to the trail and was off. Shaggy jogged off behind his canine friend, his rifle held ready.

Fred shivered. He prayed that Daphne and Velma would be okay. Not only because they were his friends and he didn't want to see them hurt. Also because of what he saw in Shaggy's eyes. If those goons had hurt either of them? Well, then God have mercy on their souls.

Because Shaggy wouldn't.

Micro-omake: Kinks

by Luan Mao

"Shaggy, I'm really grateful you rescued Daphne and me, and doggy style doesn't bother me at all, but for the last time, I won't wear a tail."

Omake by Doghead Thirteen

It was sunny, and warmer than usual that morning as the aged Volkswagen microbus hove to in the car park, and there weren't as many people in the bus as there used to be. Half an hour ago, the driver had picked the woman in the passenger seat up off the train, and in about twenty minutes their friends were due to land; it'd been over ten years since they split paths, but now they were meeting up for old time's sakes.

But Shaggy had said he had something he needed to do - and he'd taken a detour, driving through the city towards the National Mall.

Daphne curiously followed him as he walked, silent, towards the Lincoln Memorial, and then past it to the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial.

He paced along the black wall, and stopped about halfway down, running his hand down the list of names, pausing at five of them.

Then he stood back and let out a soft sigh.

"Hey, fellas." he said. "I'm... sorry I haven't been past to visit with you in so long, but life's been... well, a bit, uh, messed-up, really, for a long time."

He went silent for just long enough for Daphne to move to walk over to him, but then he started talking again and she hesitated.

"I know it sounds kinda weird, but, y'know, I'm kinda glad you fellas didn't have to see what's become of America." he said. "I... when I took the Freedom Bird back to the world... shit, you fellas wouldn't believe what those bastards did to us... you fellas died for 'em, and they jeered at us and burned flags, called us murderers... shit like that."

"And it's just got worse. I... shit man, I hardly recognize America these days. The government's doing all sorts of scary shit - way worse'n Nixon ever was - and..."

He drifted off again. Again, Daphne moved to approach him, but hesitated again when he resumed talking.

"I'm just... I'm just glad we got you fellas out, even though it was too late for you."

He stood there, contemplating the monument for a little longer, then saluted, held it for a moment, and turned away.

"Shag? Are you okay?" Daphne asked.

Shaggy nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again, then shrugged.

"Marines don't leave their own behind, Daph." He glanced over his shoulder. "See you fellas around."

And, with that, he mooched off towards the V-Dub.

Omake by Chris Hill

The men in front of them had guns, and they were ready to shoot.

Shaggy had a moment of panic, and then of clarity.

There was no time, no way of talking the bad guys out of this.

The only thing left was action.

Let the gang see what he kept hidden, from them and himself.

Let the chips fall, and let the animal in him out, or watch them die.

There wasn't a choice.

Shaggy stepped in front of the others, "I really don't think you want to do
that."

The men snorted and the leader said, "Kid, you're going to die anyway, so tell me, why wouldn't I?"

Shaggy was somehow in front of him, inside his reach and the gun he had pointed up.

The man wondered why the kid just had his hand against his chest when a 'Schnick' sounded, and all he felt was pain for the last few moments of his life.

Shaggy let the man fall, and then let the blades come out of his other hand as well while he punched the two men next to him, "'Cause I'm the best at what I do? Well, I'm the best, and the three of you are dead or dying."

Addition/Alternate ending by Wolfman

Shaggy was abruptly in front of him, inside his reach, hand clamped down on the man's gun hand; the lanky youth's elbow slammed against the thug's forearm, then somehow the gun was in the kid's hand and-

The pistol - an old Colt .45 - went off so fast it sounded more like a sub-machine gun; the slide locked back as the three abruptly dead men hit the ground.

"Because," Shaggy said, "I had enough of this shit in the jungle."

Omake by doghead thirteen and myself

Inspired by and in addition to a scene written by doghead thirteen

"You see the look on his face when the sea man appeared?" Daphne giggled. "I didn't think someone's eyes could get that big."

"I swear he jumped ten feet in the air, turned, and started running before he landed," Velma agreed. "That's our Shaggy."

"A lovable coward if there ever was one," Daphne finished.

"Shut your mouths, both of you," the man behind them barked. "Not another word about him."

"What?" the two girls looked at the stranger, trying to place his face and figure out why he looked so angry at them.

"Listen, ladies, if either of you were a man you'd be unconscious on the floor right now but my ma taught me never to hit a girl - Look, I know conscientious objectors get a lot of stick, but there's a word for a man who'll run into the middle of a raging firefight, armed only with a first-aid kit and with three bullet-holes already in him, to rescue injured guys who'd been giving him shit for being scared of guns earlier that morning, and it ain't 'coward'."