Vexina Takes Over (a.k.a.~Velma’s Revenge)
The following is a “What If” scenario based upon an idea I had a few years ago. It’s a crude tale of jealousy, hate, violence and illusionary revenge. Read on...if you DARE!
Velma had finally had enough. Enough of being the “under-dog”. Enough of being blanketed by Daphne’s shadow. Enough of being the “geeky-nerd-girl”. Enough of her own failure to win the love of her life. To think she, Velma Dinkley, was second choice to a...DOG! To think she had sunk so low, as to be passed over for...a...DOG! And that red-headed, rich bitch...always there to comfort her with her false sympathies. HA! What the hell did she know about being in love? Always hitting on Fred and getting nowhere. Couldn’t she take a hint? No. Daphne was just as clew-less as Fred was. Both of them blind to everything but their main goals. All Daphne wanted to do was to get Fred in the sack...nothing more. Slut. The way she chased after him...there was no real love...just lust. Whore. That last argument with Daphne had been the clincher. “Tell me to get over it? That Shaggy hadn’t really been worth all the fussing over?” thought Velma aloud. “Stupid bitch!” she exclaimed as she shoved some items into an old back-pack. Velma had made plans. Plans to change her whole image. Plans to get rid of her “problems” once and for all. She’d show them! She’d show everybody!
Daphne was getting ready in her dressing-room, behind stage at the concert hall. Gigging as “Crush” for the Hex Girls had won her a huge following. She had on her stage outfit...nice shiny-black, patent-leather thigh-boots and matching opera-length gloves...her pleated, shiny, vinyl mini-skirt and black, leather bustier, completed the ensemble. She just needed to fix up her hair. It was an hour to show-time, so she had plenty of time. A knock on her dressing-room door brought Daphne out of the clouds. She’d been checking herself out in the full-length mirror, to the right of her dressing-table. “Who is it?” she asked as she turned away from the mirror and walked toward the door.
“It’s just me,” said Velma from the other side of the door. “I brought the vitamin-water you asked for,” she finished as Daphne opened the door.
“Thanks so much,” said Daphne, as she took the proffered bottle. “C’mon in and relax a bit...you look tense.” If Daphne only knew how tense Velma was feeling at that moment. Velma just nodded her head as Daphne unscrewed the cap off the bottle...not bothering to notice that the seal had already been broken. She drank down almost half of the contents in one gulp. “Boy, was I thirsty! Thanks again, Velma,” said Daphne, then added, “What’s in the back-pack?” indicating the bag Velma was carrying in her right hand.
“Oh...just...stuff,” returned Velma. “You know, the usual...books...study materiel.” Not to mention duct-tape, both clear and gray types and a change of costume, as well as a couple of clear-blue, plastic, 55 gallon-sized dust-bin liners...all neatly packed inside. Velma thought of the last items to herself. “Look Daphne, I really can’t stay,” lied Velma. “I have some things to do at the museum.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” said Daphne somewhat despairingly. “I...understand. I...I...f-feel...d-dizzy...all of...a...sudden.” Daphne looked at a smirking Velma through, now blurring vision, said, “W-what...di-did you...you put...some...thing...in the...w-w-wa...ter?” A confused Daphne, shook her head trying to clear it as her knees buckled.
Velma walked over to catch Daphne just before she passed out. “Yes,” said Velma, with a touch of anger in her voice, “I did put something in the water. Stupid bitch.” But Daphne did not hear her as she lay there on the floor face up...unconscious. The mild sedative Velma had put in the water wouldn’t last long. She’d have to work fast as she opened up the back-pack and got out the two rolls of duct-tape. Setting down the clear roll next to her, Velma bent down and started to wrap Daphne’s ankles with the gray duct-tape, giving it a few turns and making sure it was nice and tight. Then, grunting, she managed to get Daphne into a sitting position and started wrapping tape around her upper arms and just above her breasts, effectively pinning her arms to her sides...the super-sticky tape clinging well onto the leather gloves and boots. Velma then pulled Daphne’s lower arms in front of her and, placing her hands together palms in, gave her wrists a few wraps of the duct-tape. Velma then, with a bit of effort, removed Daphne’s bustier and mini-skirt...leaving her clad in naught but her pink panties and matching, strapless bra. Velma dragged her across the floor, leaning the sleeping Daphne up against the wardrobe cabinet. She then quickly got herself ready to go on-stage. Only forty minutes to show-time!
Daphne woke with a groan. Her attempt to get up was hampered by all the duct-tape. Confusion at first, turned into nervousness, as she slowly opened her eyes. “W-what’s going on?” she asked of the person sitting at her dressing-table. Daphne didn’t realise who it was...until the person got up and walked across the room, pausing to grab the roll of clear duct-tape off the cushion of the sofa. The mystery girl pulled off an eight inch strip of it. “Who are you?” asked a now, very nervous, Daphne.
“Don’t you recognise me?” came a familiar voice. “Even a little?” Velma stood there, arms akimbo. She was wearing Daphne’s bustier and mini-skirt, along with a pair of shiny, black, vinyl boots and matching vinyl gloves. Her hair was different...shorter...and a sort of reddish-brown in colour...not unlike the colour of mahogany. Heavy make-up covered her face. And her glasses were missing, replaced by blue-tinted contact lenses.
“Velma?” squeaked Daphne as she blinked her eyes. “It can’t be! What the hell’s going on? Why have you done this? What ar----uuummfff!” said Daphne as Velma sealed her mouth up with the strip of clear duct-tape. Daphne gave Velma a mean look as she tried to struggle free of her bonds, now realising that she was tightly trussed up.
“How do you like the ‘new me’?” asked Velma. As if Daphne could respond...so she just sat there waiting for the inevitable explanation. Velma obliged her. “I’ll be going by the name of ‘Vexina’, when I’m on-stage. “I’ve been planning this a looooong time...bitch.” Daphne’s eyes grew wide at being called a bitch, especially by one she thought was a good friend. “Mmmrrrfff!” said Daphne as Velma went into her oration. Velma knelt down, placing her face a mere four centimetres from Daphne’s...her gloved, left hand firmly and painfully, gripping Daphne’s hair at the back of her head.
“Oooowwwmmm!” cried Daphne as Velma tightly pulled on her hair.
“Listen and listen real good...slut,” continued Velma. “I’m through playing the smart, geeky girl. I’ve been practising with the other girls for a couple of months now. They all agree that I’m even better than you are. And I’m more the ‘Eco-Goth’ look they really want. I’m through being pushed around, having to solve every damn mystery that comes our way. None of the rest of you have any idea of what it’s like, having to be burdened with your...inefficiencies. It’s time for some major changes. Time to get rid of the ‘garbage’.” Daphne now looked fearful as Velma or “Vexina”, reached into her back-pack and pulled out one of the 55 gallon dust-bin liners. Daphne, eyes even wider now, renewed her struggling, to no avail, as Velma fluffed open the thick...clear-blue...plastic...bag.
A sudden knock on the dressing-room door made Velma freeze. “Miss Blake? Crush?” called the stage manager, Carl, through the door, “fifteen minutes to curtain!”
“Hhhmmmmfff! Mmmmnnnnn! Hhhhmmmeee!” Daphne “mmffed” as loud as she could.
“What’s that, Miss Blake?” asked Carl. But it was Velma that answered back, saying, “Thanks Carl! Daphne knows...she’ll be ready!” With an “Okey-dokey!”, Carl set off to check on other things. Velma turned back towards Daphne, said, “Oh you’ll be ready, alright...ready for the compactor!” Daphne tried to squirm away as Velma pulled the large bag over her head...then quickly engulfed her shoulders and pulled the bag end over her torso, then over her knees and down toward her feet. Daphne’s struggling only made things worse as she fell over onto her left side. Velma took up the excess plastic and pulled until it was covering Daphne completely. Shoving her into a near fetus-style position, Velma gathered up all of the open ends and started twisting them together, while trying to squeeze out as much air from the bag as she could. Daphne tried kicking her way free as the plastic pressed against her. But it was no use. And with her gloved hands tied the way they were, Daphne could not manage to tear open the bag. Already, the air was starting to grow thin and Daphne found it a bit difficult to breathe. She stopped struggling and looked up...or tried to look up, at the gloating Velma...still wondering...why?
Now tugging on the bag’s ends, Velma grunted as she pulled Daphne over to the door. Good thing it was nearly flush with the floor, as it would make it so much easier to shove the suffocating Daphne into the chute. Daphne whimpered as she was being dragged along the floor...her air supply rapidly thinning out. The plastic now clung to her face as she tried in vain to re-position her head away from the thin, plastic membrane. Velma got Daphne up to the low sill. Then coming round to the front, looked at Daphne one...last...time, as she pushed on her knees and head. “Heave-ho!” grunted Velma as she pushed Daphne inside the chute. The struggling Daphne slowly slid down at first then, picked up a bit of speed as she tumbled head-over-heels, her muffled screams going ignored. Daphne landed into the hopper of the compactor with a muffled “thud”. She came to rest on top of some other bags of trash and cardboard. Daphne’s head just missed getting sliced on a protruding piece of wood, leftover from an old pallet. Velma left the dressing-room and headed for the stage area. There she waited with the rest of the band in the left wing. “I thought I saw Daphne come in earlier,” stated Thorn.
Smiling Velma replied, “She came to help me get ready and then wished me luck and she left just before I came here. She said she had some ‘pressing’ matter to attend to, for one of her mother’s charities, I think.” Thorn just nodded in agreement, knowing how Daphne could keep busy helping out others. A buzz filled the wing as the curtain went up.
As Daphne pondered her possible fate, she could see light all round the edges of the hopper up above. There was the other door...just about a metre up. The hopper wasn’t all that full...yet. Daphne tried struggling free again, pushing her legs to the edge of the bag, her pointed boots straining against the plastic, her air almost gone. Her struggling caused her to sink further into the surrounding garbage. Her desperate movements allowing other bags of trash to topple down upon her, forcing her plastic prison to conform even tighter round her body. With virtually no air left in the bag, Daphne started to succumb. “No!” Daphne thought to herself. “Not...now! Don’t...black-out...now! Must...get...free!” With a desperate, last-second shove, Daphne managed to push her boot-clad feet through the plastic bag. She gasped through her nose for air as she tried to lift the bag away from her legs, her bound arms straining to rise high enough, further pulling at the broken bag, in an attempt to enlarge the opening her boots had made. Within a few precious seconds, Daphne was able to wriggle her lower arms and knees through the bag, allowing in more air. Her struggling though, had caused her to sink still further into the refuse. She felt something rather hard...metallic. That’s when Daphne realised...she was now at the bottom of the compactor’s hopper. Squirming through the trash, she eventually managed to partially stand up, the loose trash surrounding her, providing a cushion should she fall. With some effort, Daphne was able to tear the bag open, bit-by-bit. As she pulled on it, she, eventually freed herself of the bag. Letting in a deep breath through her nose, Daphne almost choked on the stench of the surrounding garbage. But she tried her best to ignore it...at least she could breathe again. Now to see if she could, somehow, free her arms and legs. She bent her head down towards her bound wrists, wiggling her gloved fingers in an effort to pull off the tape that was covering her mouth.
Daphne managed to painfully peel the sticky tape off of her mouth. She could now fully stand but still needed to get loose from her bindings. The light that filtred in wasn’t the greatest. It did not offer much to see by as Daphne let her eyes adjust to the dark interior of the compactor’s hopper. Now that her mouth was free, she started to chew at the tape binding her wrists. It was slow-going but she, eventually, managed to chew through the tape enough to be able to free her wrists. With some extra effort, Daphne carefully bent down towards her ankles and went to work on the tape around them, wishing that her arms were fully free. She could hear the pounding of the music even down in the depths of the compactor. So loud it was that Daphne never heard the upper door swing open until it was too late. A mountain of rubbish came cascading down, knocking her to the floor of the hopper, face-down. She gasped as she tried to get free of the new mess of trash-filled bags and empty boxes. Daphne was at least able to turn over. But just as she removed one of the bags from her chest, pushing it aside, another load came tumbling down. Then a third, fourth and fifth load. “Damn!” thought Daphne, aloud, “They must be doing the clean-up before intermission!” The band usually broke after an hour, for a short break. Clean-up crews made sure all waste receptacles were empty before that, as well as after the concert. Daphne tried to cry for help but the music was too loud and the garbage that now covered her, muffled her cries anyway.
The janitor had been making his rounds, emptying the various dust-bins from the offices back-stage and was now getting to the dressing rooms. Walking into the one marked “Crush” on the door, he was dumb-founded to see the wardrobe cabinet moved, exposing the old compactor door, which was partially ajar. Velma had neglected to re-latch it. “Dang-gum it!” exclaimed the janitor as he went to secure the door. “Who in tarnation’s been foolin’ with this?” Knowing about the old laundry-chute as he’d been working there many years, the janitor opened the door just to make sure nothing or no-one, was hiding inside. The blare of the music didn’t quite extend to the dressing-rooms, so it was with surprise when the janitor thought he heard someone crying for help. “What in tarnation?” said he. He yelled down the chute, “Who’s down there?”
Daphne could have sworn she heard someone calling down the chute. She had managed to dig most of herself out of the trash-heap, but only her upper torso and arms were free. She had finally managed to free her arms, after straining to lift them, as she was digging her way out. The tape tearing away. Again the voice called, only this time Daphne yelled back, as loud as she could, “Down here! I’m stuck in the compactor! HELP ME!”
“Who’s that?” asked the janitor, yelling back.
“It’s me, Daphne...I mean, Crush!” yelled Daphne. “I need help getting out of here...PLEASE!” she pleaded.
“I’ma comin’ as fast as these old bones can carry me,” said the janitor. “Be there in no time!” He rushed out of the dressing-room and headed towards the stairs that led to the lower level where the compactor was located. But at the instant he had turned to leave the room, another load of rubbish came crashing down upon Daphne, once again burying her. Even worse was the fact that, the compactor’s sensor indicated that the hopper was full and automatically switched on the push-ram’s drive-motour. The massive steel wall slowly started to move, pushing the latest load of garbage as it forced it into the, nearly full, refuse container. Buried under all that trash, Daphne could feel the vibration of the ram as the wall pushed the trash into her. All her previous struggles were for naught, as she became pinned by the wall of slowly moving garbage...her arms now caught behind her back...her legs folded under her as the wall pushed her deeper and deeper into the container. She could hear some of the bags popping and hissing as the air was squeezed out of them. No more space did Daphne have as bags of trash were compressed all around her. Plastic bags squeezed all round her body covering her head and face, suffocating and crushing her at the same time. “Hhhmmmmffff!” Mmmmm!” Daphne tried to scream as her air supply was cut off; the heavy, steel wall continued to push on the refuse. Like someone trying to smother her with a plastic pillow, one of the full bags forced its way into Daphne’s mouth and nose. She instinctively gasped for air but only got a mouthful of plastic, which gagged her...choked her...suffocated her. She again felt herself blacking out as the plastic tightly conformed to her face.
The janitor had finally made it down-stairs, with Carl close behind. He had spotted Carl on his way down to the basement and had yelled at him to follow. Sensing something was terribly wrong, Carl had gone along with no questions asked. “Aw dang!” exclaimed the janitor, “I’ma hopin’ we ain’t too late!” he said as he dashed across the room. Gaining the controlle panel the janitor hit the “emergency shut-off” button but...was he in time to save Daphne? He then hit the “ram return” or “reverse” button, bringing the steel wall back and away from the garbage. “Carl,” the janitor started, “you stay here an’ make sure no-one comes a-near this thing! I’ma gonna go open up the side door!” and he dashed out the exit-door, just to the left of the compactor.
Just as Daphne was ready to black out, the wall had stopped moving. Her numb mind registering the voice of the janitor, as the tightly compacted trash started to loosen its grip upon her. The mountain of garbage fell away from her as the steel wall retracted. She moaned as the plastic fell away from her face, pulling out of her mouth as she fought to dislodge it. Slow to recover, Daphne started pushing away the rest of the trash that held her. She then heard what sounded like a door opening close-by. She was relieved to hear the janitor’s voice as he called to her from the open side door. “Don’t you worry none!” he said. “I’ll have you out in two shakes!”
Daphne had been too shaken-up to even attempt to go on-stage and decided it would be best for the fans to let the band finish the concert without her. Carl had called the police after Daphne alluded to him about Velma. The janitor, Roger, had been instrumental in recovering not only the bag that had imprisoned Daphne, but most of the tape as well, to be used as evidence at the impending trial.
None of the Hex Girls had had any idea what Vexina...er...Velma, had been planning as far as the revenge scheme. They were hoping Daphne would come back as “Crush” so Thorn could fill in on key-boards, while Luna was on the mend. Quick to rebound from her horrible ordeal, Daphne accepted.
Velma Dinkley, a.k.a. “Vexina”, was arrested on charges of attempted murder (two counts), kidnapping and improper disposal of a human body (go figure that last charge...) The second attempted murder charge was for her actions that caused the injuries and near death of Luna, which had stemmed from a motour-vehicle accident, which was found to be caused by a remote-controlled device Velma had installed in Luna’s car. Said car was literally run off the road. Velma’s lawyer (hired by her doting parents), pleaded “temporary insanity”. The court wasn’t impressed but sentenced Velma to the State Institution for the Criminally Insane for a three month study, to see if she was capable of standing trial. Velma escaped after two weeks there and currently remains at large. Daphne and the rest of the Hex Girls now have round-the-clock security until Velma is re-captured.
...to be continued?