In California, there is a town called Tombo. Tombo, occasionally, not often, but every blue moon or so, Walks Like A Man. Therefore, in the interests of accuracy, its full name should be Tombo, the Town That Walks Like A Man.

Tombo was not walking right now.

But it was watching.

“Look, I just want to use the phone,” Beverly Switzer said for the second time in as many minutes. She gestured slightly with the handgun. The handgun, for its part, breathed menacingly. “Pho-one. P-H-O-N-E.”

The hotel clerk-the Tombo Hotel, of course-stared at her blankly. Then he blinked. One eye first. Then the other. Tombo had not yet figured out the intricacies of the motor nervous system.

“It’s like Arkansas all over again.” Bev turned and prodded the Mindless One looming behind her with a finger. “Hey. You. Stay. I’m gonna go find a phone-o. Capiche?”

The Mindless One looked down at her, cyclopean orb flaring slightly. Bev sighed and stalked off, gesticulating with the demonic pistol. The Mindless One watched her go, then turned back to the clerk.

“Guh,” said the clerk. Or, rather Tombo, with the clerk’s mouth. There were roots growing out of his skull. Tombo’s roots. He had a shiny name-tag, which said ‘Shaun’ in engraved letters. That was not Tombo’s, for it had come with the place. The Mindless One’s eye flared brighter.

Twenty minutes later, Bev returned, still gesticulating. She stopped suddenly. Stared. It wasn’t a sight one saw often, after all.

“Ohh-kay,” she said, blinking. “That-I don’t think that goes there.”

The Mindless One looked up at her as it tried to pull the clerk’s pants down over its head. It had figured out the shirt and vest, with accompanying nametag, but the pants had, unfortunately, defeated its limited intellect. It peered at her through the zipper and tapped the name-tag.

“Yeah. Okay,” Bev said. “That’s nice…Shaun, is it?”

The Mindless One stared at her blankly.

“Oy vey.”

“Buh,” said the clerk.

Tombo watched.

---

Lights in the sky.

Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, spat thunder and lightning at his crimson-toned doppelganger, the entity known as the Strawberry Man. Magics both fell and powerful rippled from curled fingers, lashing out to strike the cackling ruby-colored figure.

For his part, the Strawberry Man laughed and spread his arms wider. “I told you, it’s not going to work,” he said, legs crossed, floating.

Strange dropped his hands, and shook his head. “Damn it.”

“Damn who? Damn me? Damn you?” the Strawberry Man cackled. “Shoo, that’s the thanks I get, then, for doing what you created me to do?”

Strange glared at the creature, eyes narrowed.

“I refuse to believe-”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” the Strawberry Man said. “You made me, so that I could stop you, when you invariably attempted to stop us.”

“Make sense, damn you!”

“Now why would I do that?”

Strange had no answer. He fell silent, his mind churning. Thinking. It made no sense! When he had discovered the reformation of the Star of Capistan he had claimed it, kept it sealed away. When he felt its tendrils spreading through his mind, he had handed it to Howard, believing that the fowl’s unique nature would keep the malevolent influence of the Star under control. But then Howard had found the youth known as Aquarian and the Star had a new fixation. But Aquarian too was an alien being, and Strange had assumed that that would be enough to limit to jewel’s influence on the youth. But the prophecy, that damnable prophecy that he couldn’t remember-

“Oh,” Strange said, suddenly. He shook his head. Looked up. “No.”

“Yes,” the Strawberry Man said. He laughed. “Now you’re feeling the music!”

“A prophecy within a prophecy,” Strange said. He gestured angrily. “You USED me!”

“Beep!”

“Then Aquarian isn’t-”

“Shush! You’ll give away the ending!”

“I won’t let you do this. There’s a way around every incantation, every spell,” Strange said. “You’re no different.” He raised a hand, fingers bent. “But until then, I can-I will-”

“What? Bind me, bound me, bond me? No, I think not, Doc!” the Strawberry Man yowled, suddenly surging forward. Strange fell back, but the creature-almost his exact double-was quicker, its inhumanly strong hands grabbing his wrists.

“You made me you, we’re brothers in bone and brain and blood, if blood was jam, we’d be a sandwich, can you dig it, rig it, fig it?” the Strawberry Man hissed as he forced Strange’s hands down, his eyes glowing an unholy crimson. “You made me to stop you from stopping us, and that’s just what I’m going to do-”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Strange grunted. He jerked a hand free and thrust his fingers into the creature’s face, causing it to jerk back with a snarl. “If I created you, then I can stop you! I won’t let you possess-”

“Quiet! Spoilers!” the Strawberry Man said, barreling into Strange and sending them both hurtling towards the ground below!
Strange struggled, but to no avail. The Strawberry Man clutched him tighter and tighter and then-

Darkness.

---

Cleveland. Ground level.

Howard the Duck and the criminal genius known as the White Rabbit were face to face with the hideous pair of Garko, the Man-Frog and the Hellcow. Again, not something one sees often.

Howard, however, was of the opinion he had seen this exact thing too many times before. And he was fed up with it.

“Get outta my way, Garko,” Howard said.

“Never! Not until I pick my teeth with your bones!” the giant frog bellowed.

“Truly, gentle-villains all, we can come to some form of unitedYEEP!” the White Rabbit began, holding up her hands. The Hellcow snapped at her, prompting the villainess to hop backwards with a startled yelp. Howard shook his head. He pointed at the duo of beasts.

“I am not in the mood for this crap. Not today-hell, not ever-and certainly not from you two!”

“Get in the mood!” Garko roared and bounded forward, slavering. Howard the Duck…well, ducked. Garko careened over him, slamming into a lampost. The monstrous amphibian whirled, eyes bulging.

“You-”

“Shaddap.”

Howard’s fist shot out, catching the frog between his bulbous eyes. Garko staggered, went cross-eyed, and fell backwards. Howard turned, shaking his throbbing hand. “What about you, Bessie? Hunh?”

The Hellcow clopped forward, head lowered, red eyes blazing. Howard stepped forward, beak to snout with the creature. “You got a problem? Really?” Howard said softly. “Cause if you do, I’m happy to oblige. I have had it up to HERE with you-”

The street rocked with an explosion. Cow, rabbit and duck, all were thrown from their feet as windows shattered, car alarms began blaring and the sky was split with crimson lightning. Howard clambered to his feet.

“Oh, that ain’t good.”

“You’re right. It’s perfect-ect-ect.”

A crackling, crimson-wreathed figure stalked down from the sky, smiling a cherry smile. Howard shaded his eyes, trying to see it’s face through the glare.

“Is that-”

“Not quite,” the Strawberry Man said. “Feel free to thank me, regardless.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re quite welcome.” The Strawberry Man stepped down to the street, the ground shuddering slightly at his touch. “Brother, can you spare a dime?”

“What?”

“Annie get your gun.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“What does, in this lackadaisy world? Not space-ponies, I’ll tell you that!” the Strawberry Man said, snapping his fingers. “Now, are you coming with me, or not?”

“Where to?” Howard asked, suspiciously.

“Why, Tunguska of course!”

---

Tunguska.

Wait, what? Really? Okay.

Tunguska (It’s in Russia).

“AhahahahaHA!” said the bug, who was the first of his kind.

“Must you?” said the ape, who was the last of his kind.

“Yes! It is required!”

“Fine, but tone it down a notch, yes?” The ape turned, shaking its shaggy head. Clad in purple coveralls, the hammer and sickle of the dissolved Soviet Union emblazoned impressively on its chest, the Beast of Berlin turned back to the dazed form of Aquarian, where the youth lay on an examination table. He had snapped his restraints, but a thundering blow from the fist of the great ape had silenced his struggles.

“The rock is speaking again. Apparently it recognizes me-”

Of course I do, Mallah. How many other talking gorillas do you know of, Grodd? In this reality, at least, Ape? By the by, BACK OFF, TITANO! The boy is MINE!

Crimson light exploded from the Star of Capistan, from where it nestled in the square of flesh between Aquarian’s pectoral muscles. The Beast stumbled back, shielding his eyes.

“Ahh!”

“Damnable rock! I told you to insulate it!” the bug screeched, bouncing up and down. As red as arterial blood, the Scarlet Beetle was a great and horrible thing. Well, more small and unpleasant, but you get the drift.

“I cannot get near it, you overbearing mollusk! How am I to insulate it?” the Beast snarled.

“SCIENCE!” the Scarlet Beetle shrieked. His tiny limbs clattered across the control consol, and a burst of sizzling azure energy lit-up Aquarian’s form andIAYAIAIA-

“Ha! As I suspected,” the Scarlet Beetle said, mandibles clicking. “My blue-pain ray adversely affected that sanguine stone.”

The Beast of Berlin rolled his eyes.

“No proof, no proof,” he said. The Scarlet Beetle whirled, hissing.

“What more proof do you need? I just showed you-”

“Nothing! It was nothing! Coincidence!”

“Coincidence! You malodorous-”

“I smell like a spring rain!” the Beast bellowed, beating his chest. “A spring rain!”

“A spring ACID rain, yes.” The Scarlet Beetle crossed his forelimbs and clacked in satisfaction. “In other words, malodorous. Ipso facto-”

“I’ll ipso you, you-”

“Hirsute-”

“Capitalist-”

“Thank you,” the Scarlet Beetle said, turning away. Scratching his nonexistent chin, he gazed at Aquarian’s limp form. “Now, if we’re to properly study our friend there, we’ll need to extract it from that lump of meat it’s attached to.”

“Bah, simple enough,” the Beast said, waving a leathery paw. “As long as you can keep the blasted thing from defending itself, I can extract it.”

“Vivisection?”

“Vivisection.”

“Perfect.” The Scarlet Beetle hopped off of the consol and scrambled up onto Aquarian’s chest. “I’ve long wanted to study the physiology of an alien…”

---

Cleveland. Again.

“And why, in the name of all that’s holy, would I go with you, a guy I don’t know, somewhere I’ve never even heard of!” Howard said.

“To see the stars!” the Strawberry Man said, clapping his hands together. “Duck, cow, frog, rabbit-”

“The White Rabbit, sirrah!” the White Rabbit said, shaking a fist.

“Oh. Yes,” the strawberry Man said, momentarily taken aback. “Of course.”

“Ignore her. I have been for the last three issues,” Howard said, shoving the White Rabbit aside. “What the hell do animals have to do with stars?”

“Astrological signs, you foolish fowl,” Garko said, struggling to his feet. Blearily, he looked at the Strawberry Man. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Maybe.”

“I-“

“Moo,” the Hellcow said, stalking forward, hooves scraping sparks from the pavement. Red eyes dripping hate, she advanced on Howard. The Strawberry Man held up a hand and an image bled into life in front of the bestial bovine.

Dracula.

“MOO!” The Hellcow surged forward and the image faded into drops of red light that spattered the ground. She swung her head, looking around, confused.

“Mooo?”

“Indeed. I know where he is, my milkish madam,” the Strawberry Man said. “If you’ll but come with me and see, we’ll all go down together-”

“Garko mislikes this talk of going anywhere with so obviously an insane being,” Garko said. Howard shook his head.

“I hate to say it, but I agree with the frog.”

“And Garko hates it that you agree with him, duck.”

“Agree or disagree, you’ll still come with me, to see what we can see. Six small things, to make a bigger thing as stars make a universe, these are the days of our lives,” the Strawberry Man said.

“There are only four of us,” the White Rabbit said. The Strawberry Man paused.

“For now, but soon-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Howard said.

“LOVE, duck. LOVE is all you need, after all.” The Strawberry Man spread his arms, as if to encompass them all. “We’ll cry LOVE at the heart of everything, you and I, us and thou-”

“Love? LOVE? Love is for monkeys,” a strangled voice said. The Strawberry Man turned even as the Turnip swung the police cruiser, swatting the crimson-colored creature aside. The Turnip tossed aside the remains of the vehicle and grinned nastily at the others. “Now, time to get down to the business of killing Defenders.”