Sunday Splash Page #428

"Indecent Descent," in Agent of W.O.R.L.D.E. #1, by Deniz Camp (writer), Filya Bratukhin (artist), Jason Wordie (colorist), Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou (letterer)

Not knowing Deniz Camp's work, I made a guess about the tone of this mini-series based off the first cover, where the main character is shooting a robot in the head while scarfing a burger, wearing jeans and a hoodie. I thought it was going to be sort of silly. It is not. 

Philip works for WORLDE, an agency dedicated to either stealing potentially destructive elements, or destroying them. Whether that's a guy from the 25th century looking to use his future science to be a mega-violent hero, or some deranged Russian scientist who created a vast family of robotic children.

Philip's gift is some sort of ability to see the world mathematically, then make that work for him. Like releasing a wind-up monkey toy amid a bunch of armed enemies, counting on it making one of them step back, fire high, and for that shot to cause a massive car wreck that launches a small family sedan into the group of armed enemies, killing them all.

All of that Bratukhin illustrates in great detail, with lots of little scratchy lines and so many dots on faces it's like a pointillist warm-up exercise. It's kind of exhausting just imagining drawing it, and Bratukhin keeps it up for all four issues. Lots of little details in WORLDE's HQ, in the places Philip travels, in Philip's home.

Because Philip uses his skill well enough he's granted certain special privileges. Like time off to go, well, WORLDE doesn't know where he goes (or so Philip's boss, the talking orangutan, says), but we do. He goes home to his family. Which is the ugly side of the mini-series. In every single issue, Philip deals with some weapon or perceived threat that is really just someone trying to protect the family they've created.

And in every one of those situations, he kills them or takes their family away. The Russian scientist is allowed one of his "children", but he's now a prisoner of the WORLDE, expected to build weapons for them. A mother that took some eyes that let her see the future, is brought in alive, but Philip's idea of kindness is to hack the eyes so they just replay a particular happy memory of hers, three times an hour, forever, while she's strapped in a chair in WORLDE's facility. When a kid is mean to his youngest daughter on her first day of school, Philip sends some sort of bomb to the kid's house which leaves the kid traumatized and probably orphaned.

What's that saying, hurt people hurt people? That's Philip to a T. He seems loving with his family, indulgent even. Let's his daughter have two hot dogs even though she got sick last time she ate that much. Let's her watch a violent superhero movie with him, then tries to settle her nightmares. Tries (and fails) to construct a doll house. I have no idea what they think he does for a living, but probably not killing people on the regular for a talking orangutan in a striped sweater vest.

With everyone else, Philip is alternately sarcastic, condescending, and sanctimonious. Especially other agents he's forced to work with, none of whom share his reticence about killing. But the reticence doesn't actually stop him, so as one of the other agents points out, what's the difference if he feels bad about it? He clearly doesn't feel bad enough to do something different. Is consigning that woman to a life reliving a memory of the husband and child another agent killed a mercy?

I lean to "No," but I didn't like Philip very much, which might cloud my judgement. At the end of the day, Philip has drawn his lines fairly clearly. He will protect his family. Everyone else is expendable to that end. Philip also says, in the issue with the mother and her future eyes, that you can't run from the past, because it's always just ahead. The issue is written in reverse order, working backwards through the fight, so the past is waiting on the next page, but it feels significant. Is Philip running from his past as a child raised in some WORLDE "school", but just waiting for more psychic trauma ahead?

I don't know. Camp doesn't show us Philip's childhood, only has characters make vague references to it. All I can go by is what's on the page, and that's rarely someone's past. We see a particular mission one of the other agents went on, mostly because his telling of it doesn't match reality, and when Philip kills the 25th Century cosplayer, Bratukhin draws the image in profile, with dozens of little panels showing past moments of the guy's life, expanding in a cone from the back of the guy's head like blood spray from the exit wound.

I don't even know if Camp wants us to like Philip. It feels like there was more to the story - a new agent called "The Dream" is introduced in the fourth issue, but other than using him to show some of what goes on in WORLDE, there's no payoff there - and it was originally solicited as five issues, before only being four. Maybe there was more coming that would have produced some sort of resolution. WORLDE does something forcing the issue, makes Philip unable to work for them and have his little family. He has to choose. The WORLDE waits for no one, we're told. Why should Philip be any different?

Or maybe not. Scout Comics going down the drain amid a storm of accusations of breaches of contract with the various creative teams might have something to do with that.

Saturday Splash Page #230

"Cubicle Zombie," in Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead, vol. 1, ch. 1, by Haro Aso (writer), Kotaro Takata (artist)

Akira Tendo's a 24-year-old, in his third life-sucking year working for an ad company. Pulling multiple all-nighters, putting in hundreds of hours of unpaid overtime, getting screamed at by his boss, pining after the cute secretary that's sleeping with the CEO on the side. He staggers through days, deep bags under his eyes, barely aware of his surroundings, sleeping among the garbage of whatever quick ramen he ate for dinner at 3 a.m. He might as well be dead.

Then the zombie apocalypse happens, and the complete collapse of modern civilization means Akira doesn't have to go to work any more. He can clean his apartment, enjoy beer, confess his feelings to the cute secretary (who is already a zombie, but oh well.)

Surely though, there's more to do than that? Gradually accepting the notion of his mortality, and that, given the circumstances, it's a more immediate concern than usual, Akira makes himself a bucket list. Though he can only come up with 33 things initially, as he gathers more people to his little group, they start adding to the list.

The 19th volume was released in the U.S. last month, but I stopped after 6. Haro Aso had put together a decent group of 4 characters between Akira, his best friend Kencho, the conscientious and cautious Shizuka, and Beatriz, the German who just loves everything related to Japan. The bucket list concept lent itself to ridiculous adventures, like trying to deliver fish to a sushi chef, or apparently traveling into space in recent volumes. 

Kotaro Takata's pretty good at drawing rotting zombies, and especially when things need to get a little weird. Like volume 2's zombie shark that, thanks to all the zombie humans it swallowed whole, can now move around on land. Because the zombie human's are standing up and their legs extended through the shark's rotting stomach. The art leans a little heavy on the cheesecake, even if you allow for the notion the story is mostly from Akira's perspective and he's single and wants not to be ("meet the woman of my dreams" is item 33 on his list.)

I feel like that's a trend growing steadily worse in most manga, so it isn't exclusive to Zom 100, and it isn't something that, on its own, would cause me to drop the book. Precarious Woman Executive Miss Black General is a lot worse in that regard, and I've kept up with it through 12 volumes, and fully intend to buy the 13th. So why'd I let this book go? Partly, I didn't want to commit to a series that long. 

But also, I think the post-apocalypse thing interests me in terms of what people do to survive (I wrote a little about it 11 years ago.) And the whole point of Zom 100 is, you could die any time. You can't content yourself to worry strictly about survival, you have to try and enjoy life. All the characters seem to have dreams of some sort - Kencho would like to be a stand-up comedian, Shizuka really wants to be a doctor - and I assume they pursue those amid all the zany adventures and fleeing zombies. Which is a good philosophy, but ultimately runs contrary to what I was looking for. Going to a casino to win big was not a thing I could picture someone deciding to do in a zombie apocalypse, even allowing for Akira and Kencho kind of being idiots.

What I Bought 5/20/2026

As I glide into a long weekend (followed by a short work week), let's look at one comic from last week, and one from this week. The local store didn't have Fantastic Four again, so I don't know if he's getting shorted on it, or my buying a copy every month wasn't enough for him to keep ordering it.

D'orc #4, by Brett Bean (writer/artist), Jean-Francois Beaulieu (colorist), Nate Piekos (letterer) - Damn, that thing is too ugly to live. But enough about D'orc!

D'orc comes under attack from a Thrawg, which I guess is "Cerebus, but a pug." D'Orc avoids being eaten, though he learns Thrawg's have flammable saliva in the process. This is what's known as "Chekov's Gastric Fluids."

D'Orc then has a soliloquy about how tired he is of everyone trying to kill him, and frustrated it makes him, and that frightens him, because he's afraid if he gets angry enough he'll lose control and kill someone like he did the chicken. The talking shield gives him some reassurance that he's doing good and providing hope. And in the morning, D'Orc wakes up to a bunch of goblins accusing him of working with a different group of goblins, led by the leader's brother.

The shield was supposed to keep watch, but explains they snuck up on him and he can't hear. So how does he know what D'Orc's saying all those times D'Orc has the shield on his arm with the eye facing out?

The brother goblin shows up, and the two sides start to squabbling about which side gets to kill the Thrawg that destroyed their villages. Then the Thrawg shows up and eats all of them. Once it eats Barry the goblin, who was looking forward to going home and rebuilding their villages, D'Orc gets angry and dives inside the Thrawg's stomach, where he uses two stones to make a spark and ignite the drool. So, the Thrawg's stomach acid is also flammable, or are we just assuming it swallows a lot of its own drool? Barry was swallowed whole, and survives the explosion, so he can point D'Orc towards the Silver Witch, and that's that.

Outside of saving Barry, I'm not sure what D'Orc accomplished. And maybe that's enough, if there are other goblins that weren't part of the hunting party that will listen to Barry and get the villages working cooperatively. Otherwise, D'Orc saved one goblin, who is going to rebuild two villages to live in, alone. 

Moonstar #3, by Ashley Allen (writer), Edoardo Audino (artist), Arthur Hesli (color artist), Clayton Cowles (letterer) - No no no, you're supposed to attack with the focused totality of your mind, Dani. This is much too scattered.

Dani is inside her own mind, courtesy of the cursed sword. it's sifting through her memories, moving backwards from Krakoa, to her time as a Valkyrie, to her days as a New Mutant. The sword takes the appearance of Hildr (more of less, she's got chalk-white skin and red eyes where the skin around them looks burned), the woman trapped within the sword, and spends a lot of time attack Dani and critiquing her for being weak. Oh, you have to rely on spells to avoid my attack. Oh, you're getting help from the memories of your friends.

It does show how what the sword's told Kyron is a lie. Kyron thinks he's sparing people the pain of losing others to death, by keeping everyone inside the sword. But the sword clearly sees relying on others, or really anything beyond your own strength and speed, as a weakness. Unless this is just meant to dig at Dani, that she isn't capable enough to actually do anything on her own, so she'll give up.

But I don't think that's it, because the sword's been rifling through Dani's memories looking for someone whose soul it can take, if not Dani's. Or someones, more accurately, and it hits paydirt with Dani's parents. Dani gets into the sword's mind enough to see a little of Hildr's true past and what the sword needs for its plan, but the sword's already sent the location of Dani's parents to Kyron. It's a nicely done page by Audino and Hesli. Dani is seeing through Kyron's eyes, so we are as well. And we see things in the reflection of his sword. First Dani, then Kyron (with a similar complexion to the one Hildr is sporting inside Dani's mind) and then the Moonstar family ranch.

And the sword dominates more and more of each panel, as it gets closer to what it wants. Either outcome, because Dani can either go after her parents, or go after the tablet Kyron needs, but not both. I would say, if he hasn't killed them already, simply taken them somewhere, she should just go get the tablet, and make him come to her, with her parents. But it's easy for me to say, not my parents in danger of having their souls sucked up by a sword. 

Wandering Star - Steven Yount

Set in the Texas Panhandle in 1910, Wandering Star shows us a town descending into lunacy over the approach of Halley's Comet, through the eyes of Tom Greer, a young boy in town.

The story actually starts with Tom going to meet Sam and Rebekah Adams, a young couple from Kansas who've come to High Plains (formerly Blind Mule) to re-open a weekly newspaper for a lawyer in town. Another passenger on the train is an emaciated, intense man named Nicholas, who jumps into the referendum on alcohol with both feet, but quickly pivots to proclaiming that the Comet will bring about the end of the world.

Sam tries to act as a voice of reason, but gets branded ungodly as more people decide they'd better hedge their bets. It's only a few weeks of being pious, in much the same way there are plenty of people in town who go to the church meetings about the evils of alcohol, who then turn around and vote against prohibition. Plus, Sam can't even keep his own house in order, as Rebekah grows increasingly depressed living in this rundown shithole of town, putting in long hours running a paper at a loss.

All of this is filtered through Tom's perspective, albeit when he's looking back from some point years down the line. Yount puts Tom at that age where he's both eager to learn, from just about anyone, but also steadfast in his certainty he knows what's what. Sam opens his eyes to new perspectives, especially on all the legends of the West that he's been taught in school. But then there's Tom's mother, prone to jumping onto any new organization or group with great intensity. Which, unfortunately, includes Brother Nicholas' hooey.

So Tom's caught between a man he respects and his mother, and I think Yount does a pretty good job describing the strain this puts on Tom, not aided by all the mental gymnastics Tom performs to both obey his mother's wishes, but not abandon his friend. It's fun watching Tom convince himself that if he talks about all this doomsday stuff with Sam, it could be construed as trying to convert the man, which Nicholas calls on them to do, and that means he's buying in like his mother wants, to try and save his soul.

There are other plot threads that don't really develop into much of anything. Sam's brief return to baseball, which might have been meant as another wedge between he and Rebekah, but I think there were enough wedges, or the Gem Scott murder. I think those are meant to a) provide a bit of additional detail to the world Tom inhabits, and b) to represent part of Tom's transition into adulthood (much like his crush on Rebekah) where things aren't always neatly resolved, and justice does not always prevail.

The book is quite funny at times. Tom's got a quick wit (and a quicker mouth), and the benefit of hindsight means he can get off some decent zingers at just about everyone. Beyond that, it's a matter of how amusing you find people contorting themselves into knots to justify their present actions or excuse their pasts.

"It is time to run these bloodsucking misery merchants out of this town using every means in our power, every weapon in our grasp." The preacher moved to the front edge of the stage and screamed the phrase that became his marching cry: "THE SALOONATICS MUST GO!"

Overdue Movie Reviews #12 - Jaws (1975)

A large great white shark settles in off the coast of a New England beach town in the summer, as the townspeople are too concerned with losing tourist dollars to close the beaches in the hopes it'll move on to more favorable hunting grounds. After a handful - mouthful? - of people are eaten, the water-fearing police chief (Roy Scheider) sets out on a boat with a crazed shark hunter (Robert Shaw), and a cocky ichthyologist (Richard Dreyfuss) to kill the shark. The shark pretty quickly turns the tables and morale sinks faster than Quint's shitty boat.

Jaws ran all the time on cable when I was a kid/teenager, and I watched it almost every chance I got. When I was bored in various high school classes - which was often - I would make a list of my 20 favorite movies. The list was appalling (1995's Mel Brooks/Leslie Nielsen horror spoof Dracula: Dead and Loving It was usually somewhere around #18), owing to the limited amount of movies I'd seen, and my own, still-forming attitudes about what I liked, or what was good. That said, Jaws was usually either first or second, up against another of Spielberg's offerings this series will address one day.

The story that Spielberg only hinted at the shark for much of the film because the crew couldn't get the mechanical shark to work right is well known, but Spielberg does a lot with suggestion. We barely see the remains of Chrissie, the first victim. A sickly pale hand with a crab crawling over it in the sand, or Hooper picking up the arm, no longer attached to a body, during his autopsy.

Mostly though, we infer. From the panicked whistles that summon Brody, followed by the shot of the deputy turning away as he collapses in the sand, sobbing around his whistle. The way Chief Brody and the boy that was supposed to go swimming with Chrissie slow, and Brody makes the boy stay back. The tray presented to Hooper that contains all that's left of Chrissie is barely big enough for an infant.

Jaws owes some of its DNA to those '50s sci-fi horror flicks. Not just the ones where the populace are menaced by some everyday creature grown large by some method, but the presentation of the shark - again, out of technical necessity - reminds me of Forbidden Planet. The indentations in the soil that marked the Id Monster's footsteps. Tree being shoved aside, or brief bursts of ray gun fire lighting up a distant canyon, but getting steadily closer.

Here it's a tire with a roast hooked to it being taken away that tells of the presence of the monster, and half the dock going with it that speaks to its power. The yellow barrels Quint keeps harpooning into the shark, that never seem to actually wear it down. The tooth Hooper finds in a fishing boat that, like the Id Monster, vanishes before it can be presented to anyone as proof.

Once we do start to actually see the shark, it's blurred, partial views. Rolling onto its side beneath the water before it bites that one guy's leg off, the shark's body almost merges with the murky water around it. The dark eye is prominent, dull and black and lacking in anything we'd recognize as humanity or mercy, and the teeth it'll use to bite almost glow, but the rest is barely discernible. Like the ocean is annoyed by all these jabbering, splashing humans and concentrated part of itself into something to kill them.

I think years of watching Shark Week, seeing actual sharks, has somewhat dimmed the effectiveness of "Bruce" when he starts to reveal himself more often. Even for a stocky species like the great white, the body is stiff, the movement of the jaws awkward. It closes its mouth halfway, like it's chewing rapidly rather than biting great chunks from something, or it started to say one thing and then changed its mind. There's a sense of power, but not necessarily speed or force. Most of the time that's fine; the shark cruises with the confidence of a predator that knows there's nothing in the surrounding sea to challenge it.

It's the reactions of the people that help sell it. Brody's startled jerk when its head breaks the surface right in front of him, his dazed backwards shuffle into the cabin and murmured, 'You're gonna need a bigger boat.' I think the clearest sign of how dangerous it is comes after that, in two stages. First, when Hooper quietly asks Quint if he's ever had another shark act like this, and later, when Quint asks Hooper what he could do with his high-tech gear. These two have been at each other's throats since the moment they met. Quint sneering at Hooper's gear and college learning, Hooper rolling his eyes at Quint's sea tales and machismo. Now, each is scared enough to look to the other for an answer to the problem.

Dreyfuss and Shaw both play guys who are right, and wrong, and kind of arrogant jerks, albeit in different ways. Hooper is much chattier, ready with glib remarks about the mayor lining up to be a hot lunch, or muttered comments that the guys loading too many people into a boat are going to die. He's condescending, but Dreyfuss does it with a smile and a lighthearted tone that says he's amusing himself, that nasal cackle as he strides away after the mayor proves more concerned with a defaced billboard.

Quint doesn't say much, outside the monologue about the Indianapolis that Shaw apparently gave drunk, but most of it he says with a graveness to his tone expressing the person he's speaking to is a fool, or just not worth his time. He dismisses the island for having 'too many captains,' or his curt dismissal of Brody's suggestion that Hooper spend a while tossing chum with, 'Hooper drives the boat, Chief.' He doesn't dress it up, simply states the facts as he sees them. He's survived, he knows what's what, he doesn't care what you think.

Neither is really that concerned about the welfare of the people. Quint, certainly, wants to kill sharks and get paid for it. Revenge for what happened to his crewmates in WW2. Hooper sticks around because he wants to study sharks, and why go to Antarctica if there's a giant-ass great white shark right here? Consider that when the shark finally makes itself known to the trio aboard the Orca, Quint goes for his weapons, while Hooper goes for his camera. Quint's getting paid to kill the shark, no time like the present to start. Hooper wants to document evidence. He laughed at the mayor's insistence he wants to get himself in National Geographic, but he didn't deny it.

And in the middle is Brody. Scared of the water, no knowledge of seamanship. He can't help with the damaged engine, can't tie knots well enough to rig the barrels for Quint. When Quint hands him the fishing reel, Brody holds it like a first-time dad who's about to drop the baby. He can't even get in on the scar-comparing contest. He brought his service revolver, which might be helpful if a mermaid tries to mug them, but is useless against a 25-foot-long shark. Pretty much all he can do is chum bloody fish chunks into the water.

That's his penance, chief of police turned chore boy. He had the chance to cut this short, or at least try, and he let the mayor - never listen to a man who wears suits made of a Captain D's wallpaper - bully him out of closing the beaches until after a second fatality, and even then, only for a few days. He fears what will happen as a result of his cowardice enough to ask his son to take his new boat into the estuary, but he's not stopping anyone else from going into the ocean. He says he left New York City and came to Amity because, 'one man can make a difference,' but what we see of his usual day is he fields complaints from old men about their picket fence getting karate'd, or has guys pushing him to make the street in front of their house a "No Parking" zone. There hasn't been a mugging or a murder in decades, presumably spanning the tenures of multiple police chiefs and deputies. Are you really making a difference if anyone can do it?

He's a man afraid of water, living on an island because, 'it's only an island if you look at it from the water.' And you know he's going to have to go out there, and maybe he knows it, too, long before it happens. In the celebration of people thinking the tiger shark those goobers killed is the man-eater, the mother of the second victim arrives to slap Brody and blame him for her son's death, while the mayor stands off to one side, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. After, as the crowd disperses, Brody walks down the pier, towards the ocean.

Of course, once they're on the Orca, Amity's no longer an island, it's invisible. There are lots of shots of just the boat, the sea, and the sky. I think, up through the first evening once they've found it, leading into Quint's story about the USS Indianapolis, the shots keep getting longer. The boat gets smaller, the sea and sky get larger. The shark could be anywhere in that vastness, the three men's isolation absolute given Quint's control (and eventual destruction) of the radio.

After that, once the shark takes it upon itself to smite these fools that challenged it, the camera starts moving back in. There's no place to go, the Orca is the only remotely safe harbor they have, and that's about like hiding in an outhouse during a hurricane. Everything around the boat, is controlled by the shark. The only thing the barrels accomplish is letting them see the shark's gaining on them as they run. Hooper climbs into his little shark cage and descends beneath the surface, the knight challenging the dragon in its lair, and his cage is destroyed in seconds. This is not his place, but he survives where Quint doesn't. Luck, or maybe because Quint wanted to die, the stubborn, contrary guy (love that as soon as Hooper tells him the engine can't handle high RPMs, Quint immediately pushes the throttle harder) that's been challenging sharks for 30 years, ever since 800 of his friends got eaten.

So it falls to Brody, with Quint's rifle and Hooper's compressed air tank, to kill the shark as the boat sinks around him. He's resting on the mast, but it's so low that it looks like he's actually floating or laying on the surface of the ocean. If part of the sea solidified into the monster to test him, test his fear of the ocean, his belief he can make a difference, another part of it has given him a bit of solid ground and said, "OK, let's see what you can do." 

What I Bought 5/15/2026

I spent the weekend at my dad's, so expect a variety of older films in the reviews starting next week. On the way up, in between searching used bookstores for his birthday gifts, I hit the comic store. I was only expecting to find one of the two books from last week, and I did, but not the one I expected. That said, it's definitely the one I'd rather have.

Touched by a Demon #4, by Kristen Gudsnuk - Oh jeez, what did this lady think would improve her life? If she could divide her focus better?

Mammon whisks Frons and Pazuzu back to Hell, leaving Wendy to come up with some sort of plausible explanation to the detective about what she just saw, and not incriminate herself as having murdered her family. She is probably not entirely convincing, but no one gets arrested so let's call it a win.

Down in Hell, Mammon isn't pleased Frons abandoned his post. Even worse, Frons started this whole life help agency without going through bureaucratic channels. On the other hand, Lucifer thinks the idea has promise. Frons has already damned 63 souls, including Wendy. If he can damn 3 more, bringing him up to a nifty 66, he'll get a promotion! And the lute he brought with him when he was cast out of Heaven, and subsequently traded for Pazuzu to get her away from her horrible boss

I did enjoy Mammon's complaint that there are souls that are supposed to be getting tortured that aren't because Frons is absent. Just sitting around, untortured, like they're in 'a hotter Purgatory.'

So Frons has a dilemma. He truly wanted to help people, but keeps fucking it up. Should he keep trying, and risk damning more souls, which gets him a promotion and recognition he finds he no longer desires? Does he accept there's no redemption for him?

There's a bit where he's debating what to do and asks Pazuzu and she replies that she was just helping him and, 'I have no moral opinions.' I started go back-and-forth with myself Friday night about which way to interpret that. Which word is the emphasis on, no or moral? Then I told myself there was no difference, then I argued back that there was. Is Pazuzu saying she has no opinions that are moral, as in they're all immoral? Or is it that she has no moral opinions, as in she doesn't even debate or consider morality? The former seems more likely for a demon, but somehow I think it's the latter. Like, morality isn't even something she thinks about. Sure, she hasn't loved how most of their clients turned out, but that could just be because she likes her boss and wants him to be happy, and the failures eat at him.

Anyway, Frons has one final conversation with Father Angelo, although they exchange contact info (which Frons immediately blocks). If the story continues, I think there was going to be something there, because Frons seems smitten. He resumes taking clients, this time an elderly woman who lives alone and is going to die soon. She has regrets, about opportunities missed and whatnot.

Frons could cast a time travel hex, allowing her to relive her life, but chooses instead to help her maximize her enjoyment of the time she has remaining. This, in turn, offers a glimmer of hope that Frons might be able to pull of his own redemption, if he sticks to trying to truly help people, instead of using demonic magic to offer quick-fix solutions. And that's where it ends, Frons, Pazuzu and Wendy as a little group. So Gudsnuk could come back to the story again some day, if she wants. The detective is still lurking, investigating the disappearance of Wendy's family, there's unresolved stuff with Father Angelo, there's no guarantee Bifrons won't still mess things up in the future, or that, if he keeps succeeding it won't start to cause a backlash from the higher-ups.

Sunday Splash Page #427

"Cement Shoes," in Adventures in the DC Universe #6, by Steve Vance (writer), John Delaney (penciler), Roy Boyd (inker), Bob Le Rose (colorist), Tim Harkins (letterer)

And we're back to the start. The first new "A" was going to be A Calculated Man. Turns out it didn't have a splash page, and I decided I didn't want to waste an entry on something where I was just going to complain about the conceit of the series the entire time when it didn't even have a splash page, so out of the collection it went!

As for Adventures in the DC Universe, I think this book was one of DC's offerings aimed at younger readers, like the comics they based on Batman: The Animated Series and the '90s Superman cartoon. Even though the artists sometimes used the character designs from the Timmverse cartoons - the last issue of the series, #19, is a Wonder Woman and Catwoman team-up using the later cartoon design for Selina, with the jet-black costume and the crooked ears - these weren't necessarily set in that continuity.

Issue 14, while using a Flash who seems rather like the overly cocky version from the cartoons, has him challenged to a race by the '90s, leather-jacket wearing version of Superboy. Issue 13 has the Martian Manhunter teaming up (or being saddled with) Impulse. Most of the issues have a lead feature and a back-up, and issue 6's back-up involved Power Girl helping stop a cargo ship full of experimental weapons from making landfall.

I only own a few issues - like the Marvel Adventures line, this series being done-in-ones means it's perfect for picking and choosing issues with an interesting concept - but it looks like Steve Vance, who wrote every issue, usually tried to connect the lead feature and the back-up in some way. Issue 8's lead is Booster Gold and Blue Beetle taking a gig in Hub City and finding themselves double-crossed, while the back-up shows how the Question (reluctantly) bails them in the course of pursuing his own case. Or Aquaman saves that drowning guy, but is too preoccupied with finding Ocean Master to think anything of it beyond surface dwellers dumping garbage in his waters again. In the Power Girl story we learn the guy is actually a fed that was trying to track down the guy who stole the experimental Russian weapons.

Delaney tends to exaggerate for comedic effect, which is what the story asks for, but I'm not sure it's always the best choice. Should it be played for yuks that Aquaman's just floating there, watching this guy drown? He's supposed to be the hero, right? I don't know what I would have made of that if I read this when it came out and I was closer to the target age. But if the story asks for comedy, he provides it. He can draw action sequences, he nails the look of the characters. He and Vance seem like a pretty good team.