POBB June 14, 2017

Pick of the Brown Bag

June 14, 2017

by

Ray Tate

The Pick of the Brown Bag opens with All-New Wolverine, Anderson, Black Panther and the Crew, Bug!, Bugs Bunny and the Legion of Super-Heroes, Betty and Veronica, Supergirl, Tarantula and The Titans.  Remember if you haven’t time for the blog, you can always check out my tweeted reviews: #PickoftheBrownBag. 

Capitalizing on the success of the Batman and Santo franchises, Rene Cardona in 1968 produced a one-off flick known as La Mujer Murciélago translated more famously as The Bat Woman.

Bat Woman is a bizarre, joyously absurd movie available on YouTube as well as DVD, from various outlets.  The film stars the holy crap physiqued Maura Monti as the titular Bat Woman and operates on the logic of every Lucha Libre film from the sixties.

Bat Woman is a world famous wrestler and a crimefighter, called upon by the police to investigate a series of mysterious murders.  There’s of course more to reveal.  

I own this movie.  It’s the perfect flick to perk you up when life kicks you in the teeth.  Creators/writers/artists Alexis Ziritt and Fabian Rangel Jr. tap into La Mujer Murciélago vibe to unleash Tarantula on the unsuspecting reading public. 

The story takes place in 1978, the year when people outside of Mexico started to take notice of Santo.  The tale begins at a literal orgy celebrating the re-election of Mayor Villalobos.  The Mayor is corrupt and tastes every crime being committed in his district.  Stylishly enter dangerous and sexy vigilante Tarantula.

Unfortunately despite being impressive, especially with a whip, she needs help.  So, Tarantula goes to her former mentor Senor Muerte.  

This is the point where you know that Tarantula is more than mere pastiche of Mexican wrestling films.  It’s in fact a successful blending of multiple psychotronic cinema feasts.  Though Tarantula goes to Bat Woman’s tailor, she’s not a wrestler.  Neither is Muerte.  They’re a surreal Batman and Robin.

Your first reaction to Tarantula may be to classify the work as a frivolous hodgepodge.  Your attitude should change once you begin reading.  

The writers portray the heroes as highly intelligent, sophisticated justice bringers.  These champions employ smart tactics strikingly visualized throughout the adventure.  The plot involving satanic rituals includes inventive flourishes such as special cards left at the scene of each murder.  

You can frequently encounter monsters in the world of Tarantula and Muerte.  Perhaps, these beast men are descendants of the original creatures made by crazed Mexican scientists in such giddy movies as The Doctor of Doom.  

An adjacent character arc produces a new hero, within the context of Tarantula’s and Muerte’s shared history.

Sombra is a mashup of the Shadow and the Punisher, and he’s out to kill the drug trade running rampant in Mayor Villalobos’ city.  The drugs however are no ordinary narcotics, and lace into the main plot quite readily.

Tarantula’s subject matter is pure exploitation heaven: psychotropic speedballs, devil worship, a smattering of nudity, whips, machetes and heady violence.

The handsome hardcover, with excellent paper stock and stitched binding is priced right by AD House, just fifteen bucks.  Wrapped in a thoroughly professional package, Tarantula nevertheless recreates the feeling of discovering a comic book talked about only in legend beneath basement floorboards in some dilapidated house about to be condemned.  It proudly emanates luridness, escalated by a crazy quilt horror of colors.

Last issue, a villain with a beef against Supergirl catalyzed a tear in the Phantom Zone.  Her friend Ben Rubel got sucked inside.  Batgirl and Supergirl swung and soared into the breach to save him.  

The Phantom Zone is a staple of Superman mythology and features in numerous treatments of the Man of Steel and the Maid of Might.  

Because The Phantom Zone is a Kryptonian prison and the people of Krypton were a humane species, the confines mimic the environment of Krypton.  So, Superman and Supergirl seem to lose their powers.  

Writer Steve Orlando gets the science behind the science fiction correct.  The natural Kryptonian ecosphere of the Phantom Zone doesn’t actually rob Supergirl of her abilities.  She simply now operates in a different frame of reference.  

Superman and Supergirl derive their abilities from the earth’s physical properties such as lower gravity and the yellow sun that feeds our planet.  

This means that Supergirl is still more powerful than the average Kryptonian sentenced to the Phantom Zone.  Her cells still spark with solar energy.  Her stamina is still extraordinary, and the muscle she built over the years still applies.  Fighting Supergirl under a red sun would be like fighting a mixed martial arts champion.  

Supergirl begins with Kara acclimating to the Phantom Zone and discovering an unlikely rescuer.  His ruse purposely mimicking a swashbuckler from olden days.  The Big Bad fools nobody.  

The grain of truth behind his facade is that our main evil is a human trafficker of the worst kind, and his galleon is a prison ship.  I’m keeping the fellow’s name secret.  To me, he’s just another hyphenated jackass from Krypton spottily appearing in Batman and Superman, but he might mean something to a Superman snorting buff.

Orlando ties in some of the Big Bad’s mad scheme with pieces introduced in the Batgirl Annual where Supergirl guest-starred.  It’s a good twist, and the sudden shockwave naturally counters the depth of the villain’s aberrant brain.

The more I read Orlando’s Supergirl, the more I realize that I really like his version of Supergirl, and Batgirl for that matter.  It’s everything else around Supergirl I don’t like: Cameron Chase being an officious Waller wannabe, the handlers instead of foster parents, the superfluous school Kara attends.  Orlando’s Supergirl however is valid and spectacular when not encumbered by the DEO backdrop and regular supporting cast.  Supergirl is actually the opposite of the television series.

Legion of Super-Heroes and Bugs Bunny isn’t as good as you hoped it would be but not as bad as you feared it would turn out.  Writer Sam Humphries sets his team up in pre-Crisis Legion history.  Although I doubt it was on his mind at the time, this skeleton nevertheless creates a self-cleaning continuity.  Did this adventure happen? Sure.  The episode and all its consequences were unfortunately wiped out by The Crisis on Infinite Earths. Anyhow, Supergirl saved the Legion from the Miracle Machine at great cost and now lies in a coma.  Dream Girl sees the means of her recovery.

Superboy, asks you? Do the Legion mean Jonathan Kent? That sicko from Infinite Crisis? The leather jacketed clone of Lex Luthor and Superman?  Wait, they can’t possibly mean the heroic slice of Superman preserved by the Time Trapper?  Nope.  The Legion refer to The Adventures of Superman when he was a boy.  

Originally, Superboy linearly progressed to Superman.  He wasn’t another person.  I know.  How sublime.  It’s so simple that it’s insane.  Doesn’t matter.  The Legion do not transport Superboy to the future.

Instead, they take the wrong turn from Albuquerque to  Smallville where inexplicably Bug Bunny happens to farm.  Carrots of course.  With this framework, there are numerous opportunities for gags galore, yet Humphries for the most part misses them.  Humphries obsesses over thought balloons revealing the Legion’s angst.  He just can’t get enough, and he runs that joke to the ground.  His best joke is the antithetical simplicity of Timber Wolf.   Things get better if more predictable when Bugs pulls his shtick on the Legion.  The flexible reality of cartoons becomes mistaken for superpowers, and the Legion try to recruit the rabbit.

Humphries at least makes Bugs Bunny a stand-up hare.  In the end, to save Supergirl, Bugs makes a selfless sacrifice.  The best thing about Legion of Super-Heroes and Bugs Bunny however is Tom Grummett.  His art at times seems to pay tribute to, but not copy, Curt Swan and Dave Cockrum.  In addition, his cartooning is exceptional.  

This is easily the worst Dan Abnett Titans I’ve read, and it’s still not a complete waste of time.  Abnett’s characterization for Lilith Clay alias Omen is the strongest of all.  

His display of her power impresses, and he does so without turning that power into something else: Jean Grey to the Phoenix.  Lilith’s rationale for risking her mind in the presence of Psimon, an even higher level psionic user, is pure altruism which makes her a richer and serious hero.  

Honestly.  Lilith’s former claim to fame was to join the Titans, leave the Titans, and rejoin the Titans at various intervals.  I never considered her a super-hero of any kind.  Just some ESP mascot.  Like a more useful Snapper Carr.  Abnett gives her dignity and credibility.    

Weighing against all these assets is the retread of an old, terrible Titans tradition of interpersonal relationships that generally lead down a blind alley and end up ruining characters like a buzzsaw.  Even Psimon refers to the themes as a soap opera.  I kept thinking while reading this drivel that nobody in their right mind cares about Titans hook-ups.  We want to see these friends join forces because they like each other.  They enjoy spending quality time while hitting bad people in their faces.  It’s manna.

Other Titans traditions threaten to overcome the fun mood of previous issues.  The new “Lazarus Contract” gets too much name-checking.  I couldn’t really get interested in the Deathstroke/Teen Titans/Titans crossover.  So, I skipped most of it.  Apparently, stuff happened and it impacts the Titans.  The only bit of continuity I could empathize with is Donna Troy discovering that she is a homunculus doomsday weapon pointed at Wonder Woman.  This revelation occurred in the Titans Annual.  That knowledge might put a damper on frivolity, but rationally this shouldn’t matter since Donna Troy thanks to Wally West possesses memories of a readjusted history that as a bonus excises her cloying, terrible former husband from another universe Terry Long. 

Anderson also stars a deft telepath, but the plot is far more entertaining.  Judge Anderson of course debuted a long time ago, on an isle far, far away in 2000 A.D, but Anderson is a sequel and spin-off from the movie Dredd.  This is easily discernible through the likeness of Judge Anderson to actress Olivia Thirlby, as well as the near future setting.  Dredd occurs in the foreseeable future.  It doesn’t match the comic book’s unique Dystopia; simultaneously hyper-futuristic and Mad Max styled post-apocalyptic.

In the first taut story by Alec Worley and Paul Davidson Anderson responds to the request for backup by another Judge.  She finds a man that appears to be possessed, but Anderson deems him just to be in poor mental health.  She uses her natural psychic abilities and her observational skills to deduce the cause.  At the same time, she fights the traumatic memories and feelings of being trapped and subjected to the promise of torture in the film.

The second story details Judge Anderson’s empathy with the innocent she is sworn to protect as well as her sympathies toward the victims of crime.  Still, she’s a Judge in an unforgiving system, and that means something.  The tale unfolds through a debriefing that will affect the rest of Anderson’s life.  If you’re a fan of the character and/or the film, you’ll want this one-shot in your collection.

Two comic books tackle the subject of gentrification by different means.  Neither could be more dissimilar to the other, and both leave you with the feeling that the lead up to a superior punchline should have been better.   In the case of Black Panther and the Crew.  It’s continuity time.

Man, nobody cares about these moments in your life T’Challa.  We care a little bit more about your history with Ororo, but not if they bring the book’s slow pace to a screeching halt.

As to Betty & Veronica, the third issue just seems to go through the motions of the first two with Betty trying to raise money to save Pops Diner, show off her cartoon strength in the more realistic art of Adam Hughes, Veronica turning into uber bitch and demonstrate the rivalry between the iconic blonde and brunette in an exacerbated fashion.

That said, Black Panther and the Crew’s revelation and cliffhanger is as good such a denouement in episode of Marvel’s Agents of SHIELD, and the lengthy final act of Betty and Veronica perks you right up.

When an alien ship crashed on Roosevelt Island, New York.  The single occupant, a diseased child, says two words in English.  Laura Kinney.  That leads SHIELD to contact Wolverine for answers.  She has none, but events quickly spiral to reveal those answers.  Here Be Spoilers.  So, if you haven’t yet read this arc of Wolverine and want to stay safe, just know that Wolverine upends the traditional Wolverine story, features numerous guest stars from the Marvel Universe, weirdly builds the Wolverine Family, generates suspense and heroism while being damn funny at times.  A more detailed survey follows after the warning.

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It turns out that the aliens weren’t just in the neighborhood.  These advanced beings deduced that Wolverine’s healing factor can wipe out the virus that infects them.  If there’s a flaw in this story, it’s that writer Tom Taylor doesn’t explain what happened to the aliens.  Did the alien child escape in desperation as her fellow species died, or did the aliens attempt to ask for Wolverine’s help and die on the way? Another possibility is that the aliens knew the virus would spread if not curtailed.  So they purposely sent the virus to earth in order to kill it once and for all.  Taylor’s not talking.  He’s more concerned with the terrestrial ramifications.

Wolverine simply but effectively in Leonard Kirk’s, Corey Hamscher’s, Terry Pallot’s and Michael Garland’s emotionally expressive artwork walks through the afflicted crowds and heals them.  Iron Heart and Gabby provide backup because too much healing will kill Laura.  This isn’t the only complication.  Taylor draws upon numerous ethical quandaries surrounding actual medical practice to add meat to his story.  

In addition, Taylor figures out that other people in the Marvel Universe possess Laura’s healing factor.  This establishes the Wolverine family.  He furthermore judiciously educes humor with the inclusion of Deadpool, here sounding perfectly like Ryan Reynolds.  I would read a Tom Taylor Deadpool series.

All of these concepts come together seamlessly in a strong story of science fiction and superheroes.  Taylor creates a plague as in The Andromeda Strain.  He demonstrates the wretchedness of survivalists, but the Wolverine Family curtails the despairing expected conclusion, and that in itself is a novel idea.

Bug! is a real hoot.  Forager escaped his encounter with the General only to be tossed through time and space where he lands in World War II.

He encounters more Jack Kirby influenced creations including the original Blue Beetle, The Sandman, Sandy the Golden Boy and the Losers.

Sandy mistakes Forager for a hilariously obscure, bad superhero, and extra points for the homage cover.

This leads to a slew of jokes that end with the Bee learning the ins and outs of the Losers’ mission, how it affects the future and why robots seem to be on the soldiers’ minds.  

The story becomes even more entrenched in DC history while still relating a coherent plot and entertaining through comedic dialogue and friction from the teammates.  I cannot recommend Bug! strongly enough.

POBB: December 24, 2014

Pick of the Brown Bag

December 24, 2014

by

Ray Tate

This week I review Aquaman, The Avenger, Bionic Woman, The Death-Defying Dr. Mirage, Judge Anderson, McBain, Simpsons Comics, Robin Rises Alpha and They’re Not Like Us.

As regular readers of this blog know, I’m a pulp fiction aficionado.   For several weeks now, I’ve been lauding Michael Uslan’s Justice Inc. which relates the birth of the Avenger within the context of the shared world of Doc Savage and the Shadow.  The series deserves accolades, but it is ultimately professional fan fiction.

The truth is that none of these characters met in their original adventures, and Uslan imagines a version of the Avenger, however valid, that differs from the original.  For example, whereas the original Avenger is a self-made vigilante.   The Avenger in Uslan’s tale acquires gifts from Doc and the Shadow, who become patrons and mentors.  

From Michael Uslan's Justice Inc. #4

With Dynamite’s new one-shot, writer Mark Rahner produces a work that’s more reflective of the underrated Paul Ernst.  Under the house name of Kenneth Robeson, Ernst wrote twenty-four Avenger novels.  

Rahner combines fact with fiction in order to make This Avenger book memorable.  First the fiction.  Uslan turned Richard Henry Benson, the man who will become the Avenger, into a C.E.O.  

Rahner follows the history Ernst laid out for Benson and he ignores whether or not that history is politically correct

Benson's wife and daughter were the key catalysts in his life.  When they were taken from him, seemingly vanished in a blink of an eye, Benson snapped.  His skin underwent a weird transformation.  It turned to a malleable chalk.  His hair shocked white.  His face became an emotionless mask.  All feeling paralyzed as he grew cold inside.  

Benson used these changes in his pursuit to discover the truth about his wife and daughter.  The disappearance of Alice and Alicia will haunt Benson's every waking moment.  Benson’s relentless quest in fact provides the emotional impact behind Rahner’s impressive conclusion, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The Avenger novels are known for their seriousness.  Even more so than the Shadow pulps, which frequently include intellectual gameplay like cryptograms and codebreaking.  The Avenger contrasts with a group of walking wounded who form Justice Inc.  

In this instance, something is turning ordinary men and women into cannibalistic maniacs.  A somber mood fills each page of Rahner’s excellent pulp.  Even the presence of a mechanical man does not divert, nor does the historical personage Billie Holiday.

Billy Holiday is receiving death threats should she sing “Strange Fruit.”  Rahner did his homework.  Billie Holiday did indeed perform “Strange Fruit” at her black and tan club Club Society, and she did record the song in 1939 on the Commodore record label.  Rahner though makes the fanciful license to skip ahead to television.

While television existed in 1939, especially at the World’s Fair, it was not so widely sought, a fact noted by Rahner.  One wonders then the logic behind Billie Holiday deciding to go straight to television rather than radio.   We can imagine that Holiday simply had the foresight to see the future utility in television and that the power in the song just might sway future generations, who would be watching, away from racism.

The prescient logic combined with an artist’s creative insight gives this story it’s spine, and it doesn’t back down.  While we can imagine that Billie Holiday received all kinds of threats from racists of the time.  The fact is she was too powerful to touch, and everybody played it smart with “Strange Fruit.”  So Rahner here decides to advance his plot over the facts.  That’s not a criticism.   As long as there’s an intrinsic logic and purpose to the story, I don’t mind at all.  In the case of Rahner’s The Avenger, it’s to set a realistic backdrop, bring up the unfortunate authenticity of racism and draw upon a true proponent of change.  These facets grant gravitas to the pulpy idea of wild killing machines and the group that’s tailor made to stop them.

The Death-Defying Dr. Mirage opens with the ritual Linton March and his fellow soldiers performed to bind a demon to their wills.  March however has reconsidered his youthful excesses and asks Dr. Mirage, Shan Fong, to sever the connection.  His former army buddies don’t like this at all.

If Dr. Mirage helps March, she may be able to bring back her husband Hwen from the land of the dead.   Once her physical form is destroyed, however, denizens of the ghost realm may enter the real world.  Guess who pays Linton March a visit and decides to get rid of Dr. Mirage?

As usual, this issue of The Death-Defying Dr. Mirage is a gem.  The 1960’s adventure strip feel from art by Roberto De La Torre continues to breathe life and verisimilitude to a difficult to swallow subject.  Namely, the occult.  

Shan is sensitive to the supernatural world, and apparently there’s no heaven or hell just a depository for spirits who have through their own willpower established social status and differing niches within one big spectral domain.  Dr. Mirage tricked one such Big Bad into a cage.

Magic in Jen Van Meter's story is not just spontaneous generation and hocus-pocus breaking the laws of physics.  The demons come from somewhere.  They play by rules which are written in stone.

Shan’s journey cost her the objects she snatched from March’s abode.  These things contained power not because of their presence but because of their history and their meaning to the individual spirits.

In the end Shan bargains for Hwen’s life with the last object that she can retrieve.  The staff that Hwen used to collect spirits.  Will Shan succeed? Will she need to make an even costlier sacrifice to stop Ivros from breaching the doorway to our world? Find out in the next issue of The Death-Defying Dr. Mirage.

Points for cleverness.  McBain is actually a poster with the comic book story printed on the other side.  It's an interesting way to read a comic book.  That's for sure.  You pull out the first pages, flip them over, etc.  You'll figure it out if you decide to purchase Bongo's latest experiment.  

McBain is the television action hero played by Ranier Wolfcastle on The Simpsons.  In other words, The Simpson clan watch McBain in the movies and on television.  Wolfcastle is the analogue of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and until The Simpsons Movie, Arnold probably didn't exist in the "flexible reality" of The Simpsons.  

McBain begins in a dream/memory flashback, setting the parody of every action movie ever created.  Not even necessarily just the bad ones.  

To say that McBain is strange is an understatement.  The story by Nathan Kane touches all sorts of mischief.  The Native American seen beside McBain as his team punch Predator clones is a call back to Apache Chief, the Rambo action figure and the curious group of seventies action figures Big Jim and the Wolf Pack.  It just gets funnier from here.  The art from Jim Delaney and Andrew PePoy isn't quite so silly.  There's this underpinning that it's one nuance away from being the illustration in a serious drama.  That works in the send up's favor.

Simpsons Comics begins with the real world past-time of Take Your Daughter’s To Work Day.  The Simpsons have addressed the event previously in “Bart on the Road.”  So I was wondering what writers Tom and Alice Gammill had in mind and if it would recall that story or not.  I’m pleased to say it’s not.  The Gammills dispense with this catalyst through stylish humor, admirably rendered by Phil Ortiz, Mike DeCarlo and Art Villanueva.

The real story begins when Mr. Burns in honor of the function bequeaths a simulacrum doll to Lisa, and since he has a bunch of them, due to a dearth of turnout, he decides to be generous and give them all to Lisa.

Mr. Burns’ unusual generosity inspires Marge to improve the dolls, and that’s where all good deeds pay back in dividends of comic misfortune.  

The brilliant story makes perfect sense, relies upon the characterization and doesn’t spare a panel for anything but jokes, whether those gags be visual integration with the narrative or Homerific asides.

Robin Rises Alpha details the aftermath of the Batman Family’s invasion of Apokolips in Batman & Robin and the resurrection of Damien Wayne.  Is the five dollar price tag worth it.  It depends on just how much of a nut you are for Damien Wayne.  If you wept when the little fellow met his demise, then by all means, treat yourself.  

The art by Andy Kubert, Jonathan Glapion and Brad Anderson does justice to the characters and crafts a palatable visual narrative.  If you’re only mildly interested in Damien, you may want to wait for the trade paperback or snatch this one-shot up when it’s half off.

It’s not that Peter Tomasi’s story is bad.  It’s just that eleven pages summarizes what occurred in the last issue of Batman & Robin.  The artists weren’t in contact with each other so there are slight differences in the story to art ratios.  Batman for example resurrects Damien in a different way than he did in Batman & Robin.  The emotions contrast.  Given that these depictions conflict in degrees, it’s a minor quibble, but that could be a bother.  

The Big Bad of the book is Kalibak, which is really old hat since Batman disposed of him readily in the last two issues of Batman and Robin.  It is kind of interesting though to see the non-powered Batman Family stand up to a brute who has in the past given Superman a run for his money.

What did intrigue me is the arrival of a nameless woman who appears in a solo set-piece as the narrative cuts away from Damien and the Batman Family.  Unless Tomasi pulls a Monarch, her identity’s pretty obvious.  She’s not like the never named amphibious dominatrix from last week's Wonder Woman. 

It’s furthermore important to distinguish how the writer and the artist treats the lady.

Natural shadows fall on her flesh to plausibly block any “offending” nudity.  Breasts and buttocks are shown in casual fancy.  Furthermore, though she arrives without memory, she knows how to fight rather than just wait for somebody to add sausage to the sunny-side up snack.  The woman appears on one page though.  In the end, this is Damien’s show.

The next reviews contain massive spoilers.  So be warned.  If you trust my judgement, these short capsules will have to do.  I'm recommending Aquaman, Bionic Woman, Judge Anderson and They’re Not Like Us.  So here are the non-spoiler overviews.

Aquaman surprises by not just being good but also linking legacies that have been epitomes of DC mythology, regardless of whatever cosmology you would care to name.  Even if you’re not an Aquaman fan but just a DC fan, you can’t pass on the issue because it's filled with brilliant, modern explanations of DC's past.

Bionic Woman offers the reader an exciting conclusion to the mad plans of General Morales.  Jaime is in top form thanks to Brandon Jerwa, David Cabrera and Sandra Molina.

Judge Anderson neatly grants impetus to the revelation of a Big Bad that nobody knew.  The story gives Anderson the greater depth that we're used to seeing in her appearances and adds a bit of mythology to the Judge Dredd universe.

They’re Not Like Us by writer Eric Stephenson grabs your attention quickly and keeps it with interesting characters, intelligent dialogue and a compelling premise.

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In past issues of Aquaman, we discovered that Aquaman's mother Atlanna faked her death to save her life and the lives of her sons.  That's the reason why Atlantis is quaking.  Atlantis is tied to the bloodline of Aquaman somehow, and he's not the true king of Atlantis since the Queen still lives.  Atlantis somehow senses this.  This issue begins Aquaman's quest to find Mom.

Artist Paul Pelletier and colorist Rain Beredo turn a simple passage into a wondrous emotional affirmation.

Surprisingly, Aquaman and Mera end up in Gorilla City.  Arthur's knowledge of the culture allows him to avoid any silly misunderstandings, and the legendary Solovar greets him personally.  Over food and drink, they discuss some similarities between Atlantis and Gorilla City, known as Katangala to the natives.  I don't know if that's a Jeff Parker coin.  If so it's a good one.

These similarities arise from a single, elegant reason.  Unfortunately, only one ape appears to know the truth of Atlanna and along the way, we discover why Grodd is the way he is as well as why the Gorillas tolerate his existence.  It's not simply that they're better than him or above human retribution.  In any case, the truth comes out in traditional comic book fashion.  My friends, it's a bout you never thought would happen.  Aquaman vs. Gorilla Grodd.

In Bionic Woman Season Four, the OSI sent Jaime on a mission that turned out to be a trap set by General Morales, a screwball that collected cyborgs and a.i. that he situated in a Village named North Eden.  What we didn't know and learned at the cliffhanger last issue is that North Eden is located somewhere way up North.

Morales acquired an abandoned NASA project, and he sees himself as the protector of the American way of life.  Whatever that means.  His intent is to guide this group of special people to his way of thinking.  Ultimately I guess to breed and spread his philosophy naturally, through mother-father teachings.  

Morales initially needs the mechanically enhanced or simply the mechanical.  Their minds can be erased, at least in theory, and rebooted to Morales' philosophy.  It's therefore a must that Jaime Sommers or Steve Austin be the hero.  This is what a lot of literature fails to address.  Why this person? Why did he need to solve the mystery?  What makes her so special?  So, writer Brandon Jerwa gives an intrinsic rationale for why Jaime Sommers had to be the one.

Since the beneficent OSI continuously upgrade Jaime and Steve, it's plausible that someday they would have the ability to resist memory tampering.  Jaime's recent apps give her the ability to fend off the rude awakening Morales inflicts on all his guests.  Steve could have been the hero in this one, but he would have had too easy a time of it.  The hero should work a little for his victories.  

Jerwa saw Jaime as the perfect candidate because of her nature and also because she wouldn't be familiar with space.  Steve Austin is an astronaut.  As soon as he woke up in North Eden, he would have sensed he was out in space.  Whoops.  No reveal then.  Jaime works much better, and Jerwa should be commended for balancing just the right bit of smarts and ability with a reasonable pace for discovery.  While some might just blow off Bionic Woman as a lark, from a pure writing standpoint, it's actually quite complex.

The narrative evolves another Big Bad to compliment the mad General Morales.  

Morales has given up on the America down below and would be happy to see it rot.  He's committed to his Utopian society.  Whitney, the chap in the red shirt, on the other hand wants to take back America for Americans using bionic and robotic soldiers.  What we're seeing is the cancer of totalitarian vision metastasizing into a new form of terror.  Whitney had he the opportunity, would have grown into the typical slap-happy fruitcake military despot.  Morales and Whitney would have eventually ended up at each other's throats, and Jerwa actually plants Jaime at the beginning of a mad scheme rather than the middle like so many action/adventure treatments do with their heroes.  Think of how many James Bond villains are already fully functional.  All these facets as well as a sly sense of humor make the expected, though nevertheless frenetic, endgame even more savory.

Somebody has been using mutants as psionic bombs.   Judge Anderson investigated and tracked the damage back to the Keyser Soze of Mega-City One.  Judge Dredd however confirmed that the perp exists.  

Discovering the legendary Ashberry doesn't really mean anything.  He's just a criminal.  He doesn't harbor any deep ties to Judge Dredd lore.  He's not secretly Judge Death for example.  However, writer Matt Smith ties him into the entire universe of Mega-City One.

Judge Anderson naturally scotches Ashberry's schemes as the Psi-Judge division cleans house.  The way Anderson acts carries the poetry of the story and bears terrific imagery from artist Carl Critchlow.

Like McBain, They're Not Like Us plays with the comic book format.  Page one is actually the cover.  Open the book, and you immediately see the girl soon to be named Syd about to commit suicide because she's a telepath, and she cannot control the voices in her head.  John Constantine attempts to interfere with her decision.

All right.  That's not exactly John Constantine, but it is.  If you see a well-dressed Englishman smoking a cigarette, acting cool, and trying to be enigmatic while talking deep thoughts as he swears for no good reason, it's John Constantine.  Not the television hero, who is a cut above the comic book antagonist.  John Constantine is a modern English archetype.  He's postmodern punk.  He's a symbol of anarchy.  He represents all the bad things we want to do but the government says we shouldn't.

Anyway, the fellow in They're Not Like Us goes by the name of Skippy Constantine.  Okay.  Okay.  Last joke.  Goes by the name of...Well, here we go again.  No name.  That's all right.  At least this is a new book, and he carries his anonymity well.

Our mystery man takes Syd away from the hospital and her confusing life of hearing other's thoughts.  He introduces her to a special group of people.

On the whole if the art by Simon Gane and Jordie Bellaire wasn't so stunning and unique, I probably wouldn't have given this book a second thought.  It's essentially amoral X-Men with swearing, but to be fair, Eric Stephenson's story is told in a really involving way, and with that artwork, it's not at all difficult to be swept into events.  That said, whether or not I continue or you continue depends on the resolution to the startling existential cliffhanger with real world consequences.