The Case of the Gymbro Ghost (Patreon)

For Hanna-Barbera Month, our top pick is a spookily huge Scooby Doo showing a ghost who the real top dog is!

                                                                  ****************************

The Iron Pump Gym had once been the most popular gym on Muscle Beach, but after years of decline, the gym’s long history looked like it would finally come to an end thanks to the legend of the Gymbro Ghost, a vicious specter that supposedly died thanks to a freak deadlift accident and was said to now haunt the locker rooms. Finally, a veteran patron of the gym, bodybuilder Flex Armstrong, had called in the Mystery Gang to investigate the rumors.

The Mystery Machine pulled up to the gym’s entrance, set in a now old and dilapidated brick wall with cracked windows and a half broken sign, shrouded in an exceptionally foggy afternoon for Muscle Beach. As the blue, psychedelic van pulled up, the Mystery Gang’s unofficial leader Fred leapt out. “Alright, gang. We’re supposed to meet Coach Mickey Jenkins here right after closing,” he said, peering into the mist. 

The rest of the gang piled out; Daphne, Shaggy, Velma, and the gang’s lovable dog, Scooby-Doo. 

“Like, zoinks, this gym gives me the creeps for all kinds of reasons- I’m having flashbacks to the rope climb in school, man,” Shaggy quipped, chuckling nervously to himself. “I think that’s when I first realized I’m scared of heights.”

“Reah, rheights!” Scooby echoed, nodding emphatically.

“The gym only has two floors, Shaggy, I don’t think you’ll need to worry,” Velma rolled her eyes. “It’s not like you’re going to be forced into a physical exam.”

“Hmph! Not that you’d pass, string bean.”

The Mystery Gang turned around to face a scruffy old man, dressed in sweatpants and a dirty tanktop. He sneered at them, beady, dark eyes glaring at them. “You the kids that like sticking their noses in other people’s business?”

“Yes sir!” Fred put on a brave smile, offering the old man his hand. “You must be Coach Jenkins, right?”

“Hmph.” Jenkins sneered at Fred’s hand. “Let me tell you kids something- this gym oughta be respected. The back door’s unlocked, and if I find any weights outta place, I’ll shove a dumbbell down yer throat! You kids stickin’ your noses where it don’t belong ain’t helpin’ anyone.”

“But, we came because Flex Armstrong asked us to,” Velma explained. 

“Feh!” Jenkins pushed his way past the Mystery Gang, pushing his way into the thick fog that clung to the ground. “Flex Armstrong better watch hisself, then. They forget ol’ Jenkins knows about all their past ghosts!”

Daphne arched her brow. “Well, that was ominous.”

“I’m going to take some notes…” Velma said, writing down in her notepad. “He’s clearly not happy about us being here, and he’s got something against Armstrong sending us here.”

“Well, he’s gone now, so let’s see what we can find,” Fred said, leading the way to the back of the gym. He had to ram the old, rusty door with his shoulder to get to open, the scraping of metal and a rush of stale air greeting the gang as they peered into the gym.

“Ugh! Do they ever clean this place?” Daphne groaned, pinching her nose as they moved inside.

“Yeah, like, I think we already solved the mystery of why this gym’s almost dead, guys,” Shaggy chuckled nervously, eyeing the hulking mass of gym equipment and machines all around them.

“Let’s split up, gang,” Fred said. “Daphne and Velma come with me, and we’ll cover the first floor and the pool. Scooby and Shaggy, you cover the second floor and the locker rooms.”

“Like, is this one of the gyms with a smoothie bar? Because I could really use a snack to take the edge off right now,” Shaggy said, rubbing his skinny middle meaningfully. 

Daphne bit her lip as she looked around the musty gym, shining a flashlight on a grimy, cracked mirror and old looking weights. “You know, I think you’d be better off just finding a snack machine, Shaggy.”

The gang split up, with Scooby and Shaggy starting in the men’s locker room. Shaggy’s face wrinkled when he opened up one locker, revealing a used jockstrap. “Man… out of all the places we’ve been to, Scoob, this is definitely at the bottom of the list. Why couldn’t we ever work a case at a haunted buffet or grocery store?”

“Reah, ruffet sounds rheat!” Scooby nodded, then began sniffing the air. The large, gangly dog made his way down one row of lockers, and his eyes lit up. “Raggy! Raggy!”

“What, what?” Shaggy shouted, rushing over and already shaking. “I-is it the ghost, Scoob?”

Scooby pointed to the locker. “Rooby racks!” 

“Wait, what?” Shaggy frowned, then opened up the locker, his mouth falling open. Inside was a huge bag filled with Scooby Snacks.

The dog rushed for the bag, but Shaggy held him back. “Wait, Scoob! Like, are we really going to steal a bag of Scooby Snacks from some dude’s locker, when we have no idea how long it’s been in there?” There was a pause as both of them considered this. “Like, we should at least wash our hands or something first.”

“Reah!”

As the two moved to the nearest sink, they both jumped at the ghoulish sight in the mirror; filling the cracked surface of the glass was a hulking brute, his face shrouded by a hoodie and white mask. His huge shoulders filled the mirror, arms thicker than Shaggy’s waist tensing.

“L-like Scoob, I don’t think they’d put a trick mirror in the lockers, do you?”

“R-ruh-uh, ruh-uh!” Scooby shook his head emphatically.

Glaring out at them with piercing, icy blue eyes, the musclebound specter shattered the glass with a swing of his fist, lunging for the two.

“Zoinks!” Shaggy yelped, and with Scooby leaping into his arms, the two bolted from the room. “Like this is one way to get me to run laps, Scoob!” he laughed nervously as he bounded around the corner. Shaggy tripped over a bench, as both he and his dog tumbled to the floor. It was only then that the Gymbro Ghost appeared, wrapping thick hands around Shaggy’s ankles and pulling him into the darkness.

“Scoob!” he shouted.

“Raggy!” Scooby yelped back, the dog’s jaw falling open as he saw his friend dragged off into shadow. Shaking like a leaf, he steeled himself and charged after Shaggy and the ghost, but as he scrambled around the corner, Shaggy and the ghost were gone.

“Scooby-doo, where are you?” Shaggy’s voice echoed off the walls of the locker room. 

“Raggy…?” The dog’s ears folded, and he whined softly as he wildly looked around for Shaggy. But soon, Scooby was all alone. Swivelling between the rows of lockers, Scooby found himself back at the open locker with the Scooby Snacks. Sniffing them once, the dog took one, tossing it into his mouth- he needed something to calm his nerves.

As he gulped one down, Scooby leapt up. “Roah!” These Scooby Snacks were different, packing a punch he had never felt before. He sniffed them again, furrowing his brow. They tasted good, great even- they were Scooby Snacks, after all- but there was something almost medicinal about them, and not the type of “medicinal” Shaggy enjoyed, either. He took another experimental bite, and he felt a surge of energy rush through his body. Scooby stood straighter and taller, not realizing his shoulders were scraping against the sides of the locker, now, or how his limbs had thickened, if only slightly. The dog shook his head; Shaggy had to be his priority. But, the bag of Scooby Snacks wouldn’t slow him down. Grabbing the bag in his teeth, he bolted from the locker room, sniffing the air if he could get the Ghost’s scent. As he kept his nose to the ground, he started picking up a scent that reeked of sweat and oil. His ears perked up as he heard a panicked roar from back in the lockers.

“Where is it?! Where are my protein snacks?” a booming voice shouted. Scooby gulped; he had a bad feeling about who that was. “The dog! Where’d he go?”

“Ruh-roh!” Scooby bolted, running as fast as he could, ducking under a stack of weights. He tried not to shake; for some reason, he felt bigger than usual, and had trouble crouching behind his hiding place. The large dog barely breathed as the Gymbro Ghost floated into the room, an open black shroud framing his large, muscular physique, his face hidden by a white mask, save for the bright eyes glaring underneath. He stalked around the room, and Scooby’s heart skipped a beat as the ghost crouched down, picking up a dropped snack. Growling low, the ghost swung a fist that went right through the wall, and then rushed down a hallway leading to the supply rooms. 

The large dog breathed a sigh of relief, and then glanced thoughtfully down at the bag of Scooby Snacks. There was something different about these Scooby Snacks, and he wanted more- well, more than he usually wanted Scooby Snacks. He could leave them somewhere, hopefully lead the ghost into a trap… or he could just eat the evidence. His muzzle was already in the bag before he could finish the thought. 

Scooby gorged on his treats, and all the while was slowly growing bigger and bigger. He really didn’t think about it; he didn’t really think about anything when he was eating. As he reached the end of the bag though, the slightest shifting of his leg sent the pile of weights he had been hiding behind clattering to the floor, causing a cacophonous crash that echoed throughout the weight room. The dog’s heart sank; there was no way the ghost didn’t hear that. Already he heard booming footsteps coming down the hallway, and then, quivering with fear, he looked over his shoulder and yelped.

It wasn’t the Gymbro Ghost, no- it was worse. A gigantic, hulking beast, with shoulders bigger than any of the gym’s weight plates and limbs thicker than tree trunks. The monster filled the mirrors with its titanic bulk, and Scooby could feel the color draining from him as he saw the beast’s mouth begin to open, locking eyes with him.

“R-raggy! R-raphne! Rhed! Relma! R-rhelp!” Scooby cried out. Wheeling around he bolted in a mad, panicked dash. He didn’t realize that the hulking brute he saw had also turned around and was growing smaller and smaller the farther away he got, nor did he stop to think about the way he smashed through the gym’s brick walls, leaving a series of brute-shaped holes in his wake. When he finally thought he had put enough space between him and the beast, Scooby took a deep sigh of relief, and only then did he realize his chest swelled up to meet his chin like a balloon. 

“Scoob?” 

Scooby looked up to see Shaggy, tied up in the corner. The dog’s scruffy friend was staring at him, mouth agape. “Rwhat?” Finally, Scooby followed Shaggy’s eyes, and then saw his own beastly, over-muscled body. His front limbs were immense, roped with swollen muscle that met shoulders as vast as a mountain range. They were fighting for room against a chest that could serve as a battering ram, and as he glanced over his shoulder- as well as he could, anyways- he saw his spots warped over an expansive back, tapering down to hind legs that, while smaller, were still more powerful than a charging bull. 

“Roh! I’m ruff!” Scooby exclaimed, giving one of his limbs an experimental flex, bicep bouncing up in size.

“Scoob! Like, look out behind you!” Shaggy shouted quickly. Scooby turned around, revealing the Gymbro Ghost, scowling from behind his bulk.

“You?” the ghost snarled, already palming his fist as he tensed his burly arms. Behind him, Daphne, Velma, and Fred were in hot pursuit, chasing the ghost down.

Scooby acted without a second thought; for kidnapping Shaggy, this ghost was going down- it helped, afterall, that the dog was now roughly three times his size. With surprising speed, Scooby tackled the Gymbro Ghost to the ground; his newly forged strength meant pinning the ghost down was effortless. Smothering the culprit with his burly backside, Scooby smirked, flexing one of his colossal limbs as the ghost helplessly squirmed underneath him.

The rest of the Mystery Gang couldn’t help but stare; Fred was the first to recover. “Uh… well, good, good job, Scooby.”

“Rhanks!” the hulking dog replied. 

“Now let’s see who this ghost really is,” Velma said, side-stepping the mystery of how Scooby was now roughly the size of the Mystery Machine. She knelt down, and tore off the ghost’s mask, revealing a tanned face with a chiselled jaw and icy blue eyes the team had seen only once before.

“Flex Armstrong?” the gang cried out in unison.

The bodybuilder who had hired them sighed. “Yeah, what? You thought it was Old Man Jenkins?”

“Well, that’s usually our first instinct,” Velma replied.

“But why would you do this? You hired us to solve the mystery in the first place!” Daphne chimed in.

“The Iron Pump Gym was going to close. I wanted to save it, and if it couldn’t get its fame back by an impressive clientele, it could get fame as a ghost story. I was hoping you wouldn’t be able to solve anything, and it would be an ongoing mystery to attract tourists. Then I realized I left some of my more, ah,” he cleared his throat. “Less than legal supplements behind, so I needed to scare you out for good.” 

The gang all looked to the musclebound mutt keeping the bodybuilder pinned. “...You made steroids look like Scooby Snacks?” Shaggy finally asked. 

“Well, it was the perfect cover!” Armstrong shouted back. “Who’s going to scan dog treats for contraband supplements? I would’ve gotten away with it too, if not for you meddling kids and your swole dog!”

“Ree-hee-hee!” Scooby chuckled, his gigantic pecs bouncing as he did. “Rhat’s me, Scooby-dooby Doo!”