Cleveland.

Dr. Stephen Strange pulled himself to his feet, blood trickling down from the numerous cuts on his narrow features. He gathered his cloak around him, and gently pushed himself into the air.

Every bone in his body felt as if it had been broken, set, and re-broken. Coughing, he closed his eyes and tried to find the strands of that old, familiar magic. He grimaced as he caught wind of them, curling and tickling at his senses.

“You didn’t go far, I see,” he said. Gathering his strength, he shot upwards, cloak billowing around him like two crimson wings.

Not far distant, the being known as the Turnip stomped one orange boot and the street sundered with a wrenching cough.

“Die, Defenders Die!”

“For the last damn time you oversized root vegetable, we ain’t the Defenders!” Howard the Duck squawked, clambering to his feet. He held a confiscated police service weapon in one hand and swung it towards the Turnip. “Now back off, or get uprooted!”

“I have been beyond the veil before, fowl, and I do not fear to go there again, if it means I can drag you with me!” the Turnip said, charging towards him, borrowed fingers hooked like claws. Something with real claws crashed into him before he could reach his target, however.

“The fowl is mine to destroy, you pernicious potato! He belongs to Garko!” Garko croaked, webbed talons seizing the Turnip around the throat. The weight of the giant frog sent the Turnip stumbling sideways, but only momentarily.

“Off!” the Turnip yelped, slapping the amphibian away. “I’ll peel you in a minute. But first, the duck.”

“Make my day, chump,” Howard said, firing the Glock repeatedly.

---

The White Rabbit crouched beside the crumpled form of the Strawberry Man. Carefully, delicately, she prodded him with one finger.

“Sirrah? Decompose if you be dead,” she said. Tongue dabbing at the corner of her mouth, she hesitated. “A joke.”

“A bad one,” the Strawberry Man said, one eyelid cracking open to late the light in. “Then again, what Lewis Carrol knew of humor could fill a matchbox.”

“Heresy,” the White Rabbit said, gesturing with a length of sharp glass. She had wrapped the thick end with a strip of cloth and poked the Strawberry Man with the sharp end. “I want to deal.”

“Cards?”

“Fate. You are the magic man, and magic man can, can he not?” She leaned closer, her ears drooping. “You want something from us, yes?”

“Yes,” the Strawberry Man said, eyes crossing as he tried to keep track of the shard in her hand. “But only the best, I assure you.”

“That is all that I have to give,” she said. “Why?”

“Magic?”

“Ah,” she said. She jabbed him with the shard. “I am a cunning woman, sirrah. In more ways than one. And I know an angle when I see one. Plots withing plates and wheels within wolves. I know the score.”

“Do you?” the Strawberry Man eased himself up. “I’m glad one of us does. Mind humming a few bars?”

“Quiet,” she said, poking him again. “I want power.”

“Power?”

“Power. Unlimited, preferably, but I’ll settle for great.” The White Rabbit sat back on her haunches and gestured with the shard. “Is that what you’re offering?”

“Oh yes,” the Strawberry Man said. He smiled, showing his ruby teeth. “Yes indeed.”

“Then we have a bargain. Up,” the White Rabbit said, rising smoothly to her feet and offering her hand to the Strawberry Man. She jabbed the shard in the direction of the Turnip. “Now, how do we deal with that one?”

“How do you deal with any vegetable? Slice, dice and ice,” the Strawberry Man said. He wriggled his fingers at her shard. It grew three sizes, becoming as red as blood and razor sharp. She blinked.

“I am uncomfortable with this on many levels.”

“Get a good grip on it.”

“Very uncomfortable.”

“Go stick it in.” He clapped his hands. Smiling his ruby smile. The White Rabbit frowned.

“Bleh.” Then she began to stalk towards the Turnip, the glass blade raised.

---

The Hellcow buried her muzzle into the Turnip’s neck, her hooves holding him tight. Howard fired again, then tossed the pistol away in disgust.

“Giving up so easily, fowl?” the Turnip crowed, grabbing the Hellcow’s horns and yanking her away. Yellow ichor pulsed down his throat as the cow’s fangs came away with a sucking sound. Whirling the bovine up, he hurled her bodily towards Howard, who leapt aside.

“WAAUUGH!”

“Yes, scream, scream for me as I pluck you from this mortal coil, duck!” the Turnip bellowed, leg muscles bunching as he prepared to leap. Howard looked around desperately, looking for anything-

There was a sound like a pumpkin being hollowed out and the Turnip shrieked. Howard jerked around.

“Holy-”

The crimson glass blade in the White Rabbit’s hands had sliced down through the Turnip’s neck and shoulder, cutting through his chest and lodging itself in his ribcage. The Turnip whirled, slashing at her with one flailing arm. The White Rabbit bounded back.

“Fall over and die now, please,” she said. And the Turnip did.

He toppled and fell awkwardly, the glass sword keeping his body at an awkward angle.

“What did you-” Howard shook his head. “Damn.”

“I removed an obstacle, my fine Quackenbush. Removed it, rolled it and shoved it in a ditch,” she said, twirling and bowing. She looked up, face tight in an evil grin. “Oh, and we’re even-stevens, my fine feathered friend.”

“Even-steven-never mind, I don’t care. I’m going home.” Howards turned away. The Strawberry Man appeared in front of him.

“Home is where the heart is, I agree, but your heart is sadly not where you left it!” He waggled his fingers in the air. Howard’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah?”

“Gone like Coke in green glass bottles,” the Strawberry Man said.

“And how would you know this?” Howard said, feeling around in his coat for a cigar. Despite his outward appearance of calm, his mind was racing.

“Been there, done that, saw the movie.” The Strawberry Man shrugged. He smiled widely. “But we can fix it!”

“Fix-” Howard began, then shook his head. “Yeah, no. My previous statement stands. Home.” Howard turned on his heel and began walking.

“Your wish is my command.” The Strawberry Man snapped his fingers.

---

Somewhere else.

The ruins of the Crooked House floated in the void, covered in hesitation-moss. A bright ruby light lit up everything for a few seconds. When it cleared, Howard nearly bit through his cigar in frustration. He whirled, jabbing a finger at the Strawberry Man.

“You sonnuva-”

“Peace be with you, small waterfowl. I have brought you home.”

“It’s a tad empty,” the White Rabbit said, looking around, hands clasped behind her back.

“It wasn’t when I left two days ago,” Howard snapped. “Where’s Bev? For that matter, where’s the kid?”

“I already told you,” the Strawberry Man said. “Tunguska.”

Howard fell silent. Garko looked around.

“Anywhere is better than this void,” he croaked. The Hellcow moo’ed and pawed the rock, sparks skittering up. Garko looked at her, then at Howard. “She agrees.”

“So? Why tell me?”

“You’re a natural leader-eader-eader,” the Strawberry Man said, hands in the pockets of his coat. He seemed to sniff the air.

“It’s why we-he-I picked you.”

“Who picked me?” Howard turned.

“Strange,” the Strawberry Man said. He smiled and stepped off of the rock into the void. “Or, rather, the Red Rajah…”

“The who?”

“LOVE.” The Strawberry Man turned, floating above them. “It’s all about the LOVE. For he so LOVED the world, he gave a bit of it to everyone. Only some people tried to keep it all for themselves, didn’t they?”

“Make sense,” Howard said, looking up.

“I am.” The Strawberry Man looked down. “The world needs LOVE don’t you think?”

“Depends,” Howard said.

“No, it doesn’t,” the Strawberry Man said, his voice rising. “That’s what Strange says and that’s why we’re doing it this way because he’s wrong, wrong, WRONG!” Red lightning sparking in his eyes.

“What the hell does this have to do with Strange? Who the hell are you, anyway?” Howard said. “Did you have something to do with the stone screwing up and-” Howard stopped. He slapped his head and groaned. “Crap.”

“By George, I think he’s got it!” the Strawberry Man crowed.

“You did this! Only you ain’t you, are you? You’re that damn rock!” Howard snapped. “I knew it! I knew that thing was gonna screw things up! I warned Strange-”

“What are you prattling about?” Garko said. He rose to his full height. “What is going on?”

“I’m being played only I ain’t got the damn program to follow along, that’s what’s going on! Strange said it himself when he gave it to me! It takes you to the right place at the right time…should have figured that it might have an idea on that score itself,” Howard said. He whirled on the others. “Rabbit, Duck, Frog, Cow, ha!” He turned back, jabbing his cigar at the Strawberry Man. “But if you think I’m gonna just sit back and let you get away with whatever you’ve got planned-”

“Well, it all depends on LOVE, doesn’t it?” the Strawberry Man said, slowly rotating in the air. “How much do you love dear Bev? Really, I mean?”

---

Tunguska.

“You’re hesitating,” the Scarlet Beetle said.

“Memory is a mocker,” the Beast of Berlin said. He held the scalpel inches from Aquarian’s chest.

“Then pay attention to the task at hand.”

“Hh.” The ape stepped back. He grunted and shook his head. “I mislike this.”

“What?”

“This,” the ape said. “We could study the stone without removing it. Without harming-”

“Stupid monkey. Sympathy is for kids,” the Scarlet Beetle said, clacking his mandibles.

“I-”

Aquarian’s eyes shot open. He screamed. The scalpel slipped from the Beast of Berlin’s paw and bounced to the floor. A restraint snapped and Aquarian’s hand shot out, grabbing the ape by the throat. With a roar, he threw the ape backwards, hurling it across the laboratory.

Aquarian sat up, snapping the other restraints. Crimson energy crawled all over him, bleeding from his pores, his eyes, his mouth.

Do you feel the LOVE?

“Y-yes,” Aquarian said.

“No,” the Scarlet Beetle said, from across the room. Aquarian turned, energy flying from his fingers. The beetle dodged and weaved, avoiding the blast. It chortled as it hurtled towards Aquarian, something clamped in its talons. The beetle curved around Aquarian as he stood and planted the tiny, square device it held against the back of his neck. Aquarian screamed, and the room was filled with red.

“An AIM mutagenic grounder, if you were wondering,” the beetle said. “With a few modifications. Built to ground metahuman powers the way a lightning rod grounds lightning.”

Aquarian fell to the floor, glowing brightly. The beetle hovered over him.

“Struggle all you like, but it won’t-”

The device exploded. The beetle was hurled backwards to slam against the wall. It slid down, and bounced as it hit the floor.

“What-what was-”

LOVE.

“I LOVE you,” the Red Rajah said, looking down at the Scarlet Beetle. “Even you, the most humble of LOVE’s beasts-”

“Humble? Humble!” the beetle forced itself up, mandibles clicking angrily. It swept a claw back and yanked a tiny pistol from beneath its shell. “I’ll give you humble!” It fired and the Rajah jerked back in surprise.

Hairy arms wrapped around the Rajah’s form and hauled him aloft. “A most intriguing transformation, I must say,” the Beast of Berlin grunted. The Rajah flexed and the ape’s hold was broken. As the gorilla reeled in shock, the Red Rajah whirled and grabbed him.

Fingers found the ape’s temples and the last Beast of Berlin screamed-

-there were dozens, once, brothers, sisters-

-the Beasts of Berlin-

-And then their masters killed them-

-Bodies in a mass grave-

-Dead-

“Ahh!” the Beast of Berlin screamed, pulling himself away, stumbling back, mind burning. “What did you-why did you-”

“I can give them back,” the Red Rajah said, stepping closer. “All of them. It’s there. In your head. I can ride the trail of LOVE and bring them back.”

“Don’t listen to him!” the Scarlet Beetle screeched, hurtling towards them, tiny pistol spitting. “AIM promised us-”

“AIM does not LOVE you. But I do.” The Red Rajah whirled, gesturing. A crimson bubble trapped the beetle. It flailed futilely at the sphere. “AIM wants my LOVE for its own. Let us give it to them together,” he said, turning, holding out a hand to the ape.

“You-” the Beast of Berlin began looking at his own hand, then at the Rajah’s. “Why?”

“Because…I LOVE you.”

---

Tombo. The Town That Walked Like A Man.

Beverly Switzer peered through windows and knocked on doors. Dull, empty eyes stared at her as Tombo wandered in the bodies of the townsfolk. It watched her, curious. Finally, she stopped at a café and her stomach rumbled. She knocked on the glass, but the customers didn’t react. The doors were locked. Bev turned.

“Shaun? Be a dear,” she said, pointing at the door.

The Mindless One, wearing his vest and his shirt-but not the pants-fired a beam from his single cyclopean eye, shattering the door and most of the door frame with it. Bev stepped through the smoldering hole, the Gun riding low on her hip.

“Anybody home?”

“Buh,” the cook said. Bev nodded.

“Yes, I see your point. Anybody intelligent home?” She looked around. “No?” She sighed. “Yeah. What I figured. Heel, Shaun,” she said, directing the last to the Mindless One. The lumpy creature followed her as she went around the counter and towards the kitchen. Tombo watched her as she ransacked the freezer. But not only Tombo.

Tombo, like any large organism, played host to any number of parasites. Some of these came equipped with funny suits and wide helmets. Men in yellow watched liquid screens set into Tombo’s roots.

“She’s in the Nite Owl,” one said.

“Familiar energy readings. She’s been in contact with-” another said.

“Bring her in,” the third said.

“What about the-”

“Send the Cataphracts.” The third man turned from the monitor and clutched his hands behind his back. “Contact the Tier. I believe we have discovered the LOVE.”