In his brief "Identity Crisis" story, Spider-Man donned four different, all-new superheroic identities - Dusk, Hornet, Prodigy, and Ricochet - because there was a bounty on his head and seemingly everyone was trying to collect. Once he cleared his name, he put the costumes in a trunk in the attic and that was that.
Until a girl was found dead in an alley, dressed as Dusk. Before too long, he ran into two more people, one dressed as Ricochet, the other as Hornet. Though Spidey doesn't cross paths with him, there's a new Prodigy out there, too. And Dusk doesn't stay dead. All four were brought together by a benefactor with ulterior motives.
No, it wasn't Norman Osborn. Or the Kingpin. It also wasn't a Spider-clone thing, in case you were worried.
The book only lasted 12 issues, and I can't decide if that's why it feels like it lacks any sort of direction, or if it died after 12 issues because it felt aimless. The four college kids that got tapped for this only vaguely know each other ahead of time, and only Ricochet and Hornet seem to get along. Neither of them quite knows what to make of Dusk, and Prodigy is basically Vegeta: an arrogant dick not nearly as competent as he thinks he is. Nobody gets along with that dude.
The benefactor is a Golden Age hero trying to recapture past glory, or rewrite history to undo a past mistake, but what that has to do with recruiting these four teens and giving them these costumes I don't know. He doesn't call them together for training, doesn't advise or guide them. Prodigy is pretty much the only one that talks to him, in the hopes of receiving validation. That might explain why Prodigy is in all this, the old man feeds his notion of how he's "supposed" to be seen, but doesn't explain what the others are doing mixed up in this.
Harris and Chriscross also don't provide them with any compelling villains. A brief run-in with some Maggia guy and a hotel fire, but it's really their benefactor's ego that's the danger. A mass transit worker Hornet and Ricochet tried to keep from committing suicide, only to derail a subway and get the guy accidentally exposed to some experimental waste that makes him a big, angry, furry thing that wants revenge. He controls big, mutated rats that live in the tunnels, which just sounds like Vermin, personally. Though this guy looks more like a steroidal Man-Bat, sans wings. Nanny and the Orphan-maker show up for Ricochet, and, I mean, could we some villains whose whole shtick isn't being creepy bastards?
And then, after all that, Mephisto. I mean, maybe put them up against the Wrecking Crew or the Death Throws first, as a warm-up? Those guys are always good for "trial by fire" stories for teams. Anyway, that's when the cast finally start to resemble something like an actual team, and the book ends. Until then, they were mostly 4 individuals who happen to occupy the same book. Even at their most adversarial, the Defenders usually worked towards a shared purpose, they just butted heads about how to do it and when to stop. These kids are all running around without a clue what they're doing (Ricochet), what they should be doing (Hornet), or why they're doing any of it (Prodigy), except maybe as escapes from unsatisfying everyday lives (except Dusk, who is dead, which kind of limits everyday life.)
Chriscross draws 7 of the 12 issues, in a style that feels similar to Ed McGuinness, or maybe a bulkier Mike Wieringo. Tends to keep faces and designs simple and straightforward, but also clear and distinctive. None of the artists who draw the other 5 issues - Oscar Jiminez on #4, Greg Lunziak on 7 & 8, or Javier Saltares on 11 & 12 - have styles at all like his. They all use much thinner lines, much busier styles, more crosshatched intensive styles. You can still tell who's who, but it helps that Chriscross gave even their civilian looks such different styles. Can't readily mistake them for each other.
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