Oh, you just know it's going to be a bad comic book week when Scooby-Doo sucks. In the first mystery, using the term loosely, Terrence Griep Jr. puts the reader in a stranglehold using lumps of Chinese mysticism and culture clotted together in passages of exposition.
The identity of the culprit is obvious since he's the only one left, and the costume while inventively designed by Karen Matchette can conceivably instill about as much terror as a cocker spaniel puppy.
The way in which the gang thwart this particular dog of a monster has something to do with waving fans, but I haven't the foggiest what they are supposed to do to the monster. He's far too heavy to float. That he has wings but doesn't use them is also a dead give away to fakery.