The White Rabbit awoke and looked up into the slavering maw of bovine oblivion. “You are drooling, madam,” she said. The Hellcow, perched on her haunches, looked slightly sheepish.

“Moo.”

“Why thank you. I have, in fact, always believe that my neck was my best feature,” the White Rabbit said, tossing her hair and crawling to her feet. “I can’t see the sun. Where are we?”

“Moo.”

“Really? It got up? Just like that?”

“Moo.” The Hellcow shrugged, her hooves clicking together. Her crimson eyes glowed eerily as she looked around.

“Fascinating.” The White Rabbit scratched her head, then, frowning, straightened her ears. “Where are the others?”

“Here,” came the simian grunt. The Beast of Berlin thrust aside a chunk of debris and shook himself. He extended his hand and opened his palm. “And here.”

The Scarlet Beetle unrolled from within the ape’s palm. “We survived. No thanks to your piloting skills you hairy bungler!”

“I can still squash you,” the Beast rumbled, making to close his fingers. The Beetle squawked and hopped onto a jutting shard of metal. The ape looked at the others. “Where are the duck and the frog?”

“Right here,” Howard said, clambering through the wreckage, followed by Garko. “Where’s the magic-man?”

“If you are referring to me-e-e, then I-I-I am right here-ear,” the Strawberry Man said. He seemed to bleed into visibility, flickering like falling rain. Ruby teeth glinted between pink lips. “Momentary mechanical difficulties, nothing more.”

“Yeah.” Howard looked at the Beast of Berlin. “Your bosses-AIM-they’re here?”

“Somewhere, yes,” the ape said, dubiously. “But with-”

“I can find them,” the Scarlet Beetle said. “The question is, why should I, hmmm?”

The Strawberry Man was suddenly there, beside the beetle, his fingers closing around its tiny form. “Because it is Necessary.” He looked at the others. His face no longer resembled Stephen Strange’s, or, indeed, any face at all. It was just eyes and a grinning mouth. The spell was breaking down.

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Howard said. He pointed at the sentient spell. “Why is any of this necessary?”

“LOVE is close, and when everyone is feeling LOVEly and groovy, everything will be better,” the Strawberry Man said. “You’ll see!” He looked down at the beetle in his hand. “Fly, little friend, lead us to LOVE and understanding!”

---

“Report! Damn it, report!” Smith-6, project leader and clone, barked at the bee-keeper drones clad in canary.

“Tombo is active!” one said, climbing back up towards his consol. The whole control room had seemingly flipped on its side, and sparks and debris shuffled down as the reverberations of Tombo’s distant steps shook everything.

“I can see that, thank you, where is he going, please?” Smith-6 said.

“Umm-ah-”

“Where is that, exactly?”

“If he stays on course, at this speed, we’ll be arriving at Monster Isle in exactly four hours,” the drone said. Smith-6 slapped his head.

“Damn it!”

An alarm began to blare, and the man in the yellow business suit spun, his horrified gaze finding the electric pentacle where the Red Rajah squatted, cross-legged. The Rajah leaned forward, and Smith-6 turned back to the drones. “The wards, somebody check the wards!”

“Wards are holding, but we’re getting geo-synch slippage!” a drone yelped.

“English, please!”

“The farther we go from where the wards were originally set up, the weaker they get. We were using a ley-line interface and if Tombo leaves its radius...” the drone trailed off. Smith-6 frowned.

“What happens?”

“LOVE actually,” the Red Rajah said. “I told you, little clone. You cannot hold back the Age of LOVE.”

“What’s the status on our people in the field? Anyone manage to scrape up Switzer before Tombo got up?” Smith-6 said, ignoring the Rajah.

“I don’t-” a drone began. “Wait! Wait, I’ve got a signal!”

“Is it one of ours?”

“Looks like a Mandroid recall signal.” The drone turned. “Should I signal for a bodyslide?”

“At this point, I’m for grasping at whatever shred of hope exists-yes, please,” Smith-6 said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They better have her.”

They did. Sort of.

The Mandroid arm clanked down onto the teleportation platform, wrapped around the unconscious, bloody form of Beverly Switzer, actress, and wielder of the Six-Shot Satanic Sidewinder Salvo Stuttgart, also known as the Snuffling Gun. A gun that perked up as it realized where it was, and lifted itself, and Switzer’s arm.

It hissed, rattling its cylinders.

“Oh hell,” Smith-6 said. The gun replied with a snarl and the slug bounced back and forth, criss-crossing the control room like a drunken hornet before finally plunging into a control consol, which exploded in a shower of sparks.

The wards surrounding the Red Rajah began to sputter and fade.

“Oh hell,” Smith-6 said again.

---

Shaun the Mindless One awoke as the darkness turned crimson. His single great cyclopean eye blinked, then focused, first on the power cables and bent water pipes holding him trapped, then on the small, single file line of beings traveling below, winding their way along what had been the town’s sewer system and now was Tombo’s small intestine.

The Scarlet Beetle flitted through the tunnels, followed closely by the others. The Strawberry Man came last, hovering several inches off the ground. Howard and the White Rabbit led the way. Howard was hunched over, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Oh cheer up,” the White Rabbit said. “We’re going forward. Forward is better than backwards any day of the week, isn’t it?”

“Depends on what’s ahead of us,” Howard said.

Shaun’s eye flared, and the debris restraining him turned to slag. He fell, crashing down in front of the group. “Holy-” Howard scrambled backwards as Shaun rose to his feet.

“What is it?” Garko snarled. He shoved past Howard and the White Rabbit and bounded towards the Mindless One. Shaun didn’t move as the frog crashed into him and bounced backwards.

“The last piece of our puzzle,” the Strawberry Man said, floating forwards. “Now let’s all come together. We have the duck, the rabbit, the frog, the cow, the bug, the ape and the vessel, all together again, for the first time, the last time.” He clapped ethereal hands together, smiling widely. “LOVE is in the air!”

Shaun peered up at the Strawberry Man, then turned and began to plod away. The Strawberry Man blinked, then whirled. “Follow him!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on,” Howard said. He looked back at the others. “Okay. Here’s the deal. I’m going to get my friends back. And my rock. That’s it. No prophecy fulfilling. No freeing a rampaging demi-god. None of that.”

“And?” the Beast of Berlin said.

Howard pulled his confiscated pistol out of his coat and thumbed back the hammer with an audible ‘click’. “And, if any of you get any ideas in that regard, I’ll shoot you in the head.”

“Eep,” the White Rabbit said.

“Damn right eep.” Howard turned, glaring up at the Strawberry Man. “After you, Jeeves.”

“You can’t deny the LOVE, Howard,” the Strawberry Man said, frowning.

“I can deny anything, red. I’m a professional,” Howard said, stalking past the floating figure.

It was all making sense now, of course. It always did in the fifth hour. That was what Strange said, that was the way it worked with magic. Prophecies only made sense in hindsight, and this one was more confusing than normal because it was random. The only reason he was here was because the curse-the spell-whatever it was, had been convinced that he would be the perfect tool in getting it where it needed to go to do what it needed to do.

Whatever that was.

The others were here for the same reason. Necessary because there needed to be components for the spell to work, but chosen for their-what? Randomness, probably. Gullibility, in some cases. None of which explained why he was going along with it. He knew what was at stake. And the kid-even Bev-were nothing when you put them up against the fate of things. Strange would have let them die or whatever.

Howard frowned. Then, he didn’t really care about the world, did he? No. All he really cared about was his friends. He didn’t have many, after all. Everyone else could go hang.

---

“Ms. Switzer. Please wake up. Your gun is growing agitated,” Smith-6 said. Bev groaned and stirred, rubbing her head. She felt like a herd of Jewish grandmothers were doing a two-step on her cerebral cortex, and not in a good way.

“Ow,” she said.

“Yes. The gun?”

Bev looked at the man in the yellow business suit, then down at the gun in her hand. The gun clicked. She climbed to her feet. “Where am I?” she said.

“The heart of the matter,” Smith-6 said. He looked around the ruined control room and snapped his fingers. Two drones stepped forward, hefting plasma rifles. “Drop that…pistol, Ms. Switzer, please, thank you.”

Bev sighed and dropped the pistol to the platform. “Ya got me, Sheriff. I surrender.”

“My name is Smith. Smith-6, to be exact.” He looked at her. “I am not a sheriff.”

“It was a joke.”

“Oh. Ha,” Smith-6 gestured for her to step forwards. “I do wish to apologize for this. But, well, we’re out of time and luck, so desperate measures are called for.” He had a bulky looking pistol and he aimed at her. “Please come here.”

“I got a choice?”

“Not even remotely.”

Smith-6 took hold of her arm and yanked around so that she was facing the dais. He pressed the pistol’s barrel to her head. “Now. You just settle down.”

“I’m settled,” Bev said.

“Not you. Him,” Smith-6 said. The Red Rajah had uncoiled and was standing, his palms pressed flat against the fading mystical barriers. “Settle down, or she dies.”

“Why should he care?”

“Beverly,” the Rajah said, his featureless ruby mask dissolving, revealing the pale features of Aquarian. Bev gasped. The Rajah reached out a hand, his fingers puncturing the wards like thin ice. A cracking sound filled the air. The room shuddered, and equipment sparked.

“Oh,” Bev said, softly. “Oh, Wundar. What have you done?”

“Given in to the LOVE.” The Rajah stepped back, his mask reappearing. “Let her go.”

“No. No, I think not. Calm down, and we might let her live-”

“Bev!”

Smith-6, still holding Bev, whirled around. The hatch to the control room had fallen open during Tombo’s rise. Howard stood in the entry way, pistol aimed at Smith-6. “Let her go!”

“Damn it! Drop the gun!” Smith-6 said, trying to shrink himself behind Bev. The AIM drones stepped up, hefting their weapons. “Drop it now!”

“Sir, should we-” one of the drones said.

“No! Not yet. Not unless we have to.” Smith-6 brandished his weapon. “Drop it duck! No one has to get hurt.”

“Pain is LOVE,” the Red Rajah said, striking the wards with a fist. More sparks jumped. Smith-6 whirled back around.

“I thought I told you to settle down!”

“The LOVE wants to be free,” the Strawberry Man said, sliding past Howard and lunging for Smith-6. The Accountant of AIM spun, firing instinctively. The Strawberry Man exploded into crimson blobs of ectoplasm. The blobs hit the floor and went liquid, slithering towards the dais. The others crowded into the room.

“Everyone is here. LOVE is in the air,” the Red Rajah said, stepping back. The wards crackled and began to dim. Tombo’s heavy footfalls changed timbre. One of the AIM drones looked at the screens hanging all over the room.

“We’re in the Pacific! Tombo is heading home!”

“No!” Smith-6 stepped back as the Red Rajah stepped off the dais. “The wards-”

“Free LOVE,” the Red Rajah said, stretching out a hand.

“Nothing’s free, kid. I thought I taught you that,” Howard said, firing his pistol. The Red Rajah staggered and turned.

“Howard-”

“What are you doing?” the White Rabbit said, snatching for the gun. “We’re here to help him, not-”

“Help him do what? Turn reality into a giant-sized love-in?” Howard shoved her out of the way. “Nuts to that, sister!” Garko took a swipe at him, and he scrambled away.

“Protestations aside, fowl, we made a deal, and the Rajah will honor or Garko will squash him as easily as he does YOU!” the frog said, bounding forward. Howard streaked between the two AIM drones, who, in panic, fired at Garko. The frog bellowed as he was struck. He reeled back.

The Hellcow shoved forward, slamming into one of the drones, her fangs nipping at his wide helmet. The Beast of Berlin loped towards Smith-6, murder in his eyes, but the Scarlet Beetle beat him there. “You tried to kill us!” the Beetle shrieked. “For that I’m going to personally-”

Shaun’s beam scattered them all an instant later. He stomped through the crowd of dazed and limp forms, reaching for Bev and Smith-6. Howard, having avoided the blast, bounced forward, catching Smith-6 in the back of the legs. He fell with a yelp. Shaun grabbed Bev. The Red Rajah grabbed Shaun.

“Release her. She belongs to me,” the Rajah said. The Mindless One backhanded the Rajah, knocking him aside. Howard scooped up the Snuffling Gun, which clicked in greeting as he rolled across the floor and took aim at the Mindless One.

“Hey Ducky, how about a helping hand,” Bev said as Shaun picked her up.

“Gimme a minute, Bev,” Howard said.

Something beeped. Everyone stopped. Smith-6 got to his feet, his face mournful. “Damn it. We’re out of time.” His body began to shake. “This operation is officially scraAAPPAUCK-” Smith-6’s form blurred and seemed to spread like a stain. His suit ripped and fell away as his form bulked out.

The White Rabbit grabbed one of the drones and shook him. “What’s going on?”

“He’s been replaced! The project has been scrapped! We’re all dead!” the drone said, grabbing at her wrists. “All of us!”

The Scarlet Beetle and the Beast of Berlin shared a look. “The Auditor,” they both said, at the same time.

“LOVE-” the Red Rajah said, rising to his feet. A yellow fist sent him crashing back to the ground. The fist was attached to a massively muscled humanoid with the face of a born accountant and the build of the Hulk.

“-Is not in the budget,” the Auditor said, cracking its knuckles. “Operations are suspended indefinitely. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

Electricity rolled off the Auditor, striking out at all angles. Far above and out and around, Tombo, waist deep in the Pacific Ocean, suddenly staggered. Lightning crawled up the creature’s spine and sparked in its brain. Tombo clutched its skull.

And then, Tombo screamed.