Murdron and Garmegula are pushing down buildings to see how many other buildings they can topple, domino-style. Concrete breaks loose from twisted rebar; a tiny clang echoes from Murdron’s foot down what remains of the street.

Klaxons klax from Murdron’s klaxula. “Our lifestyle is under attack!” he thunders, deploying laserbursts to rake the rubblescape. Garmegula stomps through three hospitals and the Humane Society. Norbert, struggling for breath through a crushed ventilator, throws a picture of his late family at Garmegula’s tail.

Tink, goes the picture.

“I KNEW IT,” shrieks Garmegula in righteous triumph, and douses a daycare with radioactive pee.