Cleveland. A public park. Frogs everywhere.

I mean, everywhere. Frogs here, frogs there, frogs in your underwear.

“Tompkins! I need a gun!” Howard squawked as he punched a lunging frog out of the air. The big detective looked down at the duck and grimaced. He had aged since Howard had last seen him. Badly. Overweight, running out of hair and wearing a tie that looked like Salvador Dali had thrown up on it, he was the picture of the seedy detective from every noir film, ever. A low rent Columbo or Dennis Franz with a makeover.

Still, he had his standards. Lines he wouldn’t cross.

“No!” he said, forcefully.

“Tompkins-”

“No! Hell no! No guns, no knives, not even a spitball! Get out of here before I run you in!” Tompkins gestured towards the hastily set-up police barricade. “You and your playboy bunny.”

“Playboy bunny? I, sirrah, am-” the White Rabbit began, finger in the air, chest inflated in indignation.

“Nobody cares,” Howard snapped, fists clenched. “I-”

“DUUUUUCK! FACE ME, DUCK!” a croaking voice bellowed. Howard whirled as Garko bounded towards them, scattering hapless police officers like tadpoles, his crimson eyes bright with a berserk fury. “FACE GARKO!”

“Crap,” Howard said, diving under Garko’s looping arms. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“The duck is the merest of feathered poultry-oons,” the White Rabbit said, laughing. She spun on one heel and drove her other tiny foot into Garko’s belly, driving the air from his lungs. “Why not face a true opponent, my fine amphibious friend?”

“Who-” Garko wheezed, clutching at his stomach. The White Rabbit huffed in annoyance.

“Fiddle-dee-DEE, my good Sir Toad-”

“Frog-”

“Whatever,” the White Rabbit crouched into a fighting stance learned from intensive hours in front of the television, her fists raised. “I have told you my name, surely you must know my face, have you not heard of Her Royal Majesty, Queen of Crime Itself and Duchess of Murder?”

“I’ve been a frog! Forgive me for not checking the tabloids, you inauspicious hussy!” Garko protested, rising ponderously to his feet. “And in any event, my quarrel is not wth you-”

“Then perchance an alliance?” the White Rabbit grinned wickedly and danced in an excited circle. “For that most unseemly foul has ruined my own plots and plans and deeds most dastardly!”

Garko blinked. “What?”

“A team-up, sirrah! In the Mighty Marvel Manner!”

“What?”

“An concurrence of pathways, a melding of digressions, a-” the White Rabbit said, spinning her arms in circles. Garko swatted her to the ground and held her in place with a mighty paw.

“I understand the concept, witch. I merely have trouble understanding what yu think you could possibly offer me when society itself has rejected me and been, in its turn, rejected by me…”

“You know, Garko, guys like you really annoy me on a deep and personal level.”

Garko whirled, his jaw smacking right into Howard’s fist and staggered back, pawing at his face. Howard bounced towards him, readying another blow.

“You got a grudge against society so you turn yourself into a giant frog, or pick up a gun or build a damn tank and go careening into other people’s lives like a wrecking ball and for what?”

“VENGEANCE!”

“Nah, that don’t wash,” Howard said, popping a feathered fist into Garko’s throat. The frog gagged. “See, ‘vengeance’ implies you’re going after somebody who done you wrong, but you, Garko, and guys like you? You go after everybody and anybody. That’s the definition of a bully, and me, I hate bullies!”

“You-” Garko made a feeble lunge. Howard dodged and kicked him in the knee. Garko fell to the ground and snarled. Then, abruptly, screamed as several dozen tasers buzzed at once and he was lit up like a Christmas tree in Santa’s sweatshop. With a sizzling groan he collapsed onto his face and lay still.

“Told you we had it handled, duck,” Tompkins said, gesturing with his taser.

“Careful with that thing, Tompkins,” Howard said. Tompkins shook his head.

“Don’t worry, duck. Much as I’d like to kentucky-fry you, frogs-legs are the only things on the menu today.” Tompkins gestured. “Oh, and her. According to the background check, she’s wanted in six states and four countries-”

“I was framed!” the White Rabbit shrilled, getting to her feet. “It was the frog!”

“I need her, Tompkins.” Howard stepped between the gathering crowd of cops and the White Rabbit. “Somehow, she’s why I wound up in Cleveland instead of-”

“You know what duck? I can’t really bring myself to care about whatever weird shit you’re involved in. You’re nothing but trouble and if you want to press me, I’ll run you in…just like last time!” Tompkins shouted, pointing. “Now step aside!”

“Nope.” Howard grabbed the White Rabbit by the wrist and began to run. “Nice to see you again, Tompkins, have fun!”

---

Are we having fun yet? Because I know I am.

Aquarian gritted his pearly teeth and reinforced his null-field as the endless blows of the-

“I can’t concentrate with you blathering!” the man-god hissed. But I don’t blather. Stones can’t, you see, and I am most definitely a stone-

“Stop it!” Aquarian said, a trifle desperately. The Mindless Ones continued to smash at his shield. A steadily increasing pressure. He had never felt anything like it in his short life. They did not stop or falter.

He would have to try something different. Something desperate-

“I am not desperate. Merely shocked,” Aquarian said. “Get out of my head, stone.”

But it’s so cozy in here. Besides which, might I mention, all you have to do is pick me up and we could be out of here, dude. I’m hanging on by my thumbs here, man. Just give me something, anything, a baby opening, and I’ll whisk us away-

“I think not. I simply need some breathing room,” Aquarian said. “I believe I have come up with an adequate solution.”

He raised his hands, fingers curled. His null-field began to contract in on itself, drawing closer to him and extending down into the alien rock beneath his feet. He had never tried the trick before, but there was a first time for everything. His field contracted to within an inch of his skin and had sunk down several feet when he abruptly caused the portion beneath the ground to flare like a flower tasting rain.

The ground shuddered as the null-field caused it to crack and buckle. The alien asteroid he was standing on began to rip itself apart at the seams. The Mindless Ones stumbled and fell as the ground gave way beneath them and then, abruptly it was gone and Aquarian floated in space, held aloft by his null-field.

“See? A simple solution,” he said.

“Indeed. One wonders why you didn’t think of it sooner,” a voice purred. Aquarian turned, but not quickly enough as a crimson light smashed into him, sending him hurtling towards the shimmering plains far below!

His null-field protected him from the worst of the blow and the ensuing landing, but even so he had certainly felt it. Aquarian staggered to his feet, looking up in wonder. When had it last been that he’d felt a blow? Years?

A shape made of soot and fire and draped in ragged purple walked down from the sky, step by step, eyes blazing. Aquarian felt his stomach clench as he felt a surge of fear at the sight of his attacker. Doctor Strange had mentioned him several times.

“I wondered what had stirred up the Mindless Ones,” the Dread Dormammu said. “I am less than impressed.”

See? See? I told him he’d need my help!

---

The Crooked House, leaning between the butterfly seconds.

“Ahhhh,” the Strawberry Man said, licking his ruby lips with a purple tongue. “Can you taste that? It tastes like destiny.”

“Movie buff, hunh?” Beverly Switzer said, trying to hide her trembling. He had released her from the spell he had used to bind her moments ago. The Strawberry Man looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Not at all, maybe so,” he said in his soft, lilting voice. “Sorry, I’m elsewhere at the moment. Doing exciting things.”

“Must be fascinating,” Bev said.

“Not really, no. More tedious than anything.” The Strawberry Man was thin, with a potbelly and red all over. Hair, lips, teeth, nails all of it shades of strawberry red. He was dressed in a suit and tie, with ruby rings on his fingers and a ruby tie pin in his tie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you by the by the by the by.”

“Thank you?”

“Welcome, I’m sure. I apologize for my entrance, but I detest ghosts,” he said.

“That was my doctor.”

“Your doctor is a ghost?”

“Ghost with the most, coast to coast,” Bev said sidling away from the Strawberry Man. He smelled like ripe fruit, sweet and slightly sickening. She had to get to the recliner and Howard’s gun. “Why’d you chase him off? Planning to do horrible things to me?”

“Perish the little children, ginger-nut. I need you singing sweetly and shaking that thang,” the Strawberry Man said. “Plans can’t span without you, baby-baby. You hear me?”

“Like a record on a player, man,” Bev said, sitting down in the recliner carefully. Carefully now. “Who are you again?”

“We covered that already, try and keep up. If you can’t keep up, read the previous issue,” the Strawberry Man said. He stopped and stared into space for a moment. Bev took the opportunity to reach under the recliner and grope for Howard’s pistol. It was a special pistol, one he’d scavenged from somewhere unpleasant. Sometimes, at night, it breathed.

Bev’s skin crawled as she curled her fingers around the grip. Then she was swinging it up, barrel aimed at the Strawberry Man’s face.

“Where’d you get that, kit-kat?” he said brighly.

Bev pulled the trigger.

---

We’re back in Cleveland. Try and keep up. Have a nosh, enjoy yourself. Because Howard certainly isn’t.

“Tompkins! You can’t do this!” Howard squawked, rattling the bars on his cell. “At least put me in solitary! Waauugh!”

“Oh, do be quiet duck.” The White Rabbit paced the length of the holding cell, hands behind her back, ears drooping. “I must cogitate a method of egress from this foul institution!”

“You know, I’m only in here because of you!” Howard whirled, pointing. “If we wind up in the Vault-”

“I look forward to devouring you in the exercise yard, duck,” Garko shouted from the next cell. The giant frog squatted in the middle of the cell, head cocked. “Or sooner…”

“Ribbit, ribbit swamp-lips!”

“I’ll swallow you, feathers and all!”

“Gentlemen, please! We must pool our resources or be forever locked in chains of iron!” the White Rabbit said, raising her hands. “We must align ourselves…”

“Oh no, I’m already on a team and one is more than enough. I-” Howard stopped. “Does anyone smell that?”

“Smell what?” the White Rabbit sniffed the air.

“It smells like-”

---

“Blood! Blood for the One!” the vampire snarled, cutting a slice through a police officer’s body armor and sending the man spinning away over desks and chairs. A dozen other undead monsters followed suit, attacking policemen with feral fury.

They had attacked at nightfall. Thirteen unholy warriors, sent by the disciples of Dracula Himself, newly risen, to free a fourteenth by the command of Dracula. For such was the desire of him who ruled the undead, that all his servants answer his call to war.

Even…the oddest among them.

The leader of the creatures, Ovid by name, slapped aside another cop and stalked down the hall, through the bullpen and towards the evidence room. He could hear her calling to him, whispering for help.

“Be calm, mistress, the children of Varnae come to free you from whatever hellish torment these blood-bags have-”

BOOM.

BOOM.

Ovid spun as the shotgun belched and tore twin holes in his chest. Tompkins glared at him.

“I swear to God-”

“Please don’t,” Ovid snarled, lunging, slapping the weapon out of Tompkins’ hand and shoving him backwards into the wall, talons pressed against his throat. “Where is she?”

“Who? The Rabbit?”

“No. Her. The servant of my God.” Ovid’s claws cut thin furrows in Tompkins’ flesh. “Where is the one you have kept pinned between life and death all of these years?”

“You don’t mean-” Tompkins went pale. “No! God, no!”

“Ah…I can read your surface thoughts, mortal. She is there,” Ovid said, turning his red eyes fixing on the evidence room door. “You are of no more use, then.” With a casual swipe, the vampire tore Tompkins’ throat out in a welter of blood. Tompkins slid down the wall, gurgling, clutching at himself, dying. Ovid turned away contemptuously and yanked open the evidence room door, pulling it off its hinges.

His eyes immediately found the wooden box wedged between shelves at the back of the room and he hissed in anticipation, claws flexing. There. There!

With a single smooth movement he tore the box top off and stared down at the form within. It was…larger than he had expected. More…he blinked. Shrugged. One did not argue with the edicts of Dracula. One merely followed them.

With a grunt, he pulled the stake loose from its place and an undead heart, long dormant, began to beat again…