Middleton didn't get many tourists, let alone tourists in a psychedelic-painted van that smelled like a mixture of dog biscuits and high-octane curiosity.
"Sheila," I said, leaning against a lamp post outside the "Nasty Burger." "Scan the approaching vehicle. I'm detecting a localized surge of 'Grooviness' and a canine DNA signature that shouldn't be possible."
["Target identified, Danny,"] Sheila replied. ["The Mystery Machine has just crossed into the zip code. The occupants include four teenagers and one Great Dane with a 400% higher appetite than Ben Tennyson. They've come to Middleton because of a 'Ghostly Glow' reported near the old textile mill."]
"The 'Ghostly Glow' was just Jenny recharging her secondary batteries," I sighed. "But if the Mystery Inc. crew starts poking around, they might find the entrance to Sub-Level 23. We need to give them a 'Real' haunting to solve so they stay away from the actual secrets."
I tapped my belt pouch, where Pips was currently vibrating with a sound like a low-frequency purr. The little Mechamorph-mite had been bored ever since the 'Data-Leech' incident, and he was currently looking for a project.
"Pips," I whispered, opening the lid. "We have guests. Professional meddlers. I need you to go to the textile mill and create a 'Level 2 Spook-Show.' Nothing dangerous. Just some floating gears, a few glowing footprints, and maybe a scary-looking 'Ghost of the Loom.' Can you handle that?"
Pips let out a digital chirrup, phased out of the pouch, and shot toward the mill like a green bullet.
Ten minutes later, the Mystery Machine pulled into the lot. Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby-Doo stepped out. Velma was already looking at a tablet, her brow furrowed.
"Jinkies," Velma said, her glasses glinting. "The electromagnetic readings here are fascinating. It's almost as if the town is... 'Anchored' to another frequency."
"I'm more worried about the 'Ghostly Glow' in that mill, Velma!" Shaggy whimpered, hiding behind Scooby. "Like, I heard this town is home to a 'Possible' haunting that turns people into robots!"
"Don't be silly, Shaggy," Fred said, adjusting his ascot. "There's always a rational explanation. It's probably just a disgruntled textile worker using a high-powered projector and a series of pulleys."
"Can I help you?" Kim asked, walking up to the group with her arms crossed. She looked at the Mystery Machine, then at Fred. "I'm Kim Possible. This is my town. And we don't have a 'Ghostly Glow' problem."
"We're the Mystery Inc. crew!" Daphne said, smiling. "We solve mysteries! And our sensors brought us right to your doorstep."
I stepped forward, Pips' 'Link-Feed' already playing on my glasses. "Actually, the textile mill has been acting up lately," I said, giving Kim a subtle wink. "There's talk of the 'Mechanical Weaver'—a spirit that was trapped in the machinery back in 1922."
"A Mechanical Weaver?" Fred's eyes lit up. "Let's go, team! We've got a mystery to solve!"
The 'haunting' at the mill was a masterpiece of Pips' creative logic. As the Mystery Inc. crew entered, Pips began to 'play' the machinery like a symphony. He turned on the old looms, making the threads glow with a soft, green spectral light. He used localized magnetism to make a group of industrial gears float in the air, spinning slowly.
"Like, G-G-G-GHOST GEARS!" Scooby-Doo yelped, jumping into Shaggy's arms.
"Fascinating!" Velma said, crouching down to examine a 'glowing' footprint that Pips had etched into the dust. "The residue is... digital? It's almost like the ghost is a sentient computer program."
"Or a disgruntled textile worker with a very advanced LED-kit!" Fred argued, already setting up a trap involving a fishing net and a tub of industrial grease.
I watched from the shadows as Pips orchestrated the 'Final Act.' He merged with a large, rusted weaving machine, making it stand up on four mechanical 'legs' and let out a deep, synthesized moan: "THE LOOM... MUST... BE... FED!"
"AHA!" Fred yelled, pulling the rope.
The net dropped, the grease splashed, and the 'Mechanical Weaver' was successfully 'captured.'
Pips, being a ghost-bug, simply phased through the net and the grease, leaving behind a 'Costume' he had constructed out of old burlap sacks and copper wire.
"See?" Fred said, pulling the burlap off the 'Costume.' "It was just... a very sophisticated robotic dummy! Controlled by... uh..."
Fred looked at the empty burlap. There was nobody inside.
"Wait," Velma said, her voice dropping an octave. "Where's the disgruntled worker?"
"Maybe he... vanished?" Daphne suggested, looking a bit spooked.
I stepped out from behind a crate. "Well, whatever it was, it looks like you 'busted' it. The glow is gone, the gears are back on the floor, and the town is safe. Nice work, Fred."
The Mystery Inc. crew looked a bit confused—they were used to unmasking 'Old Man Jenkins'—but the evidence was gone. Pips was already back in my pocket, purring with satisfaction.
"Like, I don't care who it was, Scoob!" Shaggy said, heading for the door. "I just want to find a burger joint that doesn't have 'Mechanical Weavers' on the menu!"
As the Mystery Machine pulled away, Kim walked up to me, looking at my pocket. "Did Pips just... gaslight the world's most famous mystery-solvers?"
"He 'Redirected' them, Kim," I said, patting the wisp. "And he did a great job. No secrets were exposed, no rifts were opened, and Fred got to feel like a hero."
"I'll admit," Kim said, smiling. "The bug has talent. But Danny? If he starts 'haunting' my room just to get me to clean it, we're going to have a problem."
"Low-stakes, Kim," I said. "Low-stakes."
I looked at the 'Low-Stakes' meter. 5%. The mystery was 'solved,' the tourists were gone, and Pips was officially the Protocol's best 'Field Operative.'
["Danny,"] Sheila's voice rang in my ear. ["I've updated the dossier. Mystery Inc.: Role: Unintentional Distractions. Also, Velma left a tracking device on the 'Nasty Burger' sign. I've already reprogrammed it to point toward a 'Ghost-Themed' mini-golf course in Amity Park."]
"Good girl, Sheila. Let's go get some fries."