Comic Review: Kid Lobotomy

The birth of a new comic imprint can be a thrilling thing. In a field that tends towards stagnation, new imprints in the past like Vertigo and Helix have produced some of the most surprising cult hits in years. Based out of Los Angeles, Black Crown, a brand new imprint of publisher IDW, promises a line of new books from a variety of creators, exploring a myriad of subjects and introducing a host of new properties.

In Kid Lobotomy, the first title coming from Black Crown, we're introduced to a partnership of old hand and new talent. The pen is held by British writer Peter Milligan, whose notoriety in the comics business can't be overstated. The artwork is the blood and sweat of rising talent Tess Fowler, whose most recent work can be seen on covers across multiple major publishers. 

Milligan has a long reputation as a skillful craftsman of the grotesque and hilarious, from his genre-defining creation X-Statix to long tenures on Hellblazer, Shade the Changing Man and a plethora of others, he's known for pushing the envelope on the norm, and the boundaries of taste. He's on top form in the world of Kid Lobotomy.

It's the story of a young man, Kid, who after a series of twisted events finds himself manager of the city's strangest hotel. Tortured by a past shrouded in macabre music, madness and medical experimentation, Kid finds allies and enemies alike in the denizens of the building known as The Suites.

Part Overlook Hotel, part Mos Eisley Cantina, The Suites are home to a variety of strange and unusual lodgers. The biggest charm of Kid Lobotomy so far is in the very building Kid must discover. He explores the workings of The Suites and just what he's got himself into, and along the way the many inhabitants, not all apparently human and not all even apparently alive, go about their own unique business within the walls of the mysterious building.

The art is sharp and fitting the world we find ourselves ready to explore. Fowler's distinct talent for expressive faces gives equal attention to the cute, the sexy, and the macabre alike, and no two characters look the same. The halls of The Suites are both shadowy and dreamlike, with a wonderfully moody colour scheme that reminded me of The Neon Demon.

There's a world waiting to be discovered here, with Kid's family, staff, and the many lodgers making up the main cast, along with hordes of quirky background characters. There's so many distinct characters lurking in the first issue alone, I look forward to seeing who among them will be fleshed out, what will become of them, and what's really hidden in the shadows of The Suites.

Kid Lobotomy, in all it's twisted, funny, and grotesque glory, comes out on October 18th. 

Review: 'Thrawn' by Timothy Zahn.

The expanded Star Wars universe can be a bit of a roller-coaster to follow at times. From the vast library of books comprising three different continuities, to the trifecta of canons that sometimes, but not always, intersect, it's hard to get a grip on certain characters or the stories they live through.

The enigmatic and mysterious Mitth'raw'nuruodo, better known as Thrawn, is unique among the characters found in the Star Wars universe, as one who has appeared in fiction both before and after the prequel reboot, as well as within the new modern continuity as well. Astoundingly enough, each time written by the same author. This gives a character cohesion unseen anywhere else in the wide-spread Star Wars universe, with Timothy Zahn taking up his flagship character again with a clearly comfortable hand. 

The villainous genius of Grand Admiral Thrawn originally menaced the heroes of the Star Wars story over 20 years ago. With his unrivaled military tactics and analytical mind, he eliminates any and all threats against him systematically, and seemingly effortlessly. He's a cold and calculating character, with a focused mind of conquest and fear, destroying any who would stand against him. 

These elements made Thrawn one of the stand out villains of any Star Wars story, and probably one of the overall best characters to ever come from the entire setting. They make him a looming, ever-present threat, far beyond the match of our heroes in the rebel alliance, and a mind greater than that of the Emperor or Darth Vader combined. 

A great villain is made by these strengths, his unstoppable nature becoming something the heroes must overcome, the 'one in a million' chance to defeat the superior foe. This is the making of a great antagonist. These same elements do not make a quality protagonist, however. 

Thrawn gives us the backstory of the titular Chiss mastermind from the first days of his interaction with the Empire, and chronicles his rise to Grand Admiral rank through his many extraordinary military conquests. We follow Thrawn and his unfortunate and mostly unwilling aide, the young Ensign Eli Vanto, as they venture through Imperial military academy, facing the quiet discrimination directed at the alien among the ranks of human officers, and proving himself step by step as the tactical genius he truly is. 

The story takes on an awfully familiar feel a short while in. Each new situation the duo face is swiftly overcome by Thrawn's brilliance, marveled at by the long-suffering Vanto as he observes his friend and ally with a jealous but admiring eye. Vanto acts as Thrawn's personal aide and translator, his friendly and personable character a much-needed buffer between the socially aloof alien and the rest of the imperial command. It's Holmes and Watson in space. It's enjoyable, and some of Thrawn's schemes and crafty escapes are great fun, but much like the classical detective, it begins to grow tiresome when we realize no one will best him. A hero is built by flaws, and apart from the seemingly irrelevant aspect of his social awkwardness, Thrawn is virtually flawless throughout the story. 

Furthermore, for a story claiming to detail the rise of the greatest military mind in the empire, I felt the events somewhat harm Thrawn's legacy rather than exalt them. Thrawn constantly beats the odds by his genius tactics, and inevitably gets in trouble with the high command. This should be the time to show his skill at manipulation, or give Vanto more time to shine as a character in his own right, but instead each time Thrawn is exempt from punishment due to simple cronyism, Emperor Palpatine having seen something in the Chiss that he admires, and so continually gets him out of of trouble with no repercussions again and again. 

There are new characters aplenty, ranks upon ranks of the imperial navy that will taunt and belittle Thrawn, only to find themselves outranked by him a chapter or two later. What I was personally hoping for was a chance for Thrawn to interact with great classic characters that, due to old timelines, he was never able to cross over with. Grand Moff Tarkin, Vader, and the Emperor himself all make brief (a matter of paragraphs in some cases) appearances, but unfortunately the interactions I hoped for never take place. This seems a wasted opportunity. Not only would it be great to see how the seemingly unflappable Thrawn would face with such notable great minds as Tarkin, or react to the intimidating presence of Darth Vader, but it was a chance to use the newly created canon where these characters are all alive at the same period for the first time to its fullest. 

The exploits of Thrawn and Vanto are fun to follow, and their friendship is one of the more interesting ones that has developed in the setting. I wished there could have been a little more downtime between the two, like what they get up to off the clock. We follow the pair for many years of their careers over the course of the story, and there's definitely a missing element of personal time to the story. What do these two do with their time off? Following Thrawn outside his military command environment, maybe exploring his obsessive love of art, could have been a hell of a lot of fun, but there's precious little moments in the whole story when he isn't outsmarting someone or another, or solving a tactical problem. Oddly enough, with his every-man viewpoint and exasperated character, it's Vanto who shines as the most enjoyable personality in the book.

While Thrawn is a well written book in its own right, it really isn't the great backstory the character probably deserves. If anything, for a military character, the path of his career is a little run of the mill. Throughout the entire book there is a thread of mystery, a clandestine effort hidden within the Empire that only Thrawn seems to notice, yet instead of this building finally to something significant, it fizzles inexplicably to nothing. It seems a lot was built towards with very little final resolution.  

In the end, it boils down to one major element of fiction. Only in rare situations does a great antagonist also make a great protagonist. What works with Darth Vader does not work with Grand Admiral Thrawn. He is a character far better kept to the opposing side of the narrative, with his schemes and genius veiled from the reader. Walking beside him every step of the way removes some of the charm, and the threat, of one of the greatest characters to be found in the Star Wars universe.

Review: 'Serial Killer' by Pat Mills & Kevin O'Neill.

For all the incredible power over fiction that the editor possesses, there's very little fiction in turn actually concerning them. The mind of the comic editor must be an interesting thing, the filter through which all those stories, both brilliant and inane, must travel through before they reach the eager readers in corner shops all over. It's their job to transform work from mere transcripts and proposals into works of literary art, to take out the bad and retool with the good.

But what if an editor, tired of the drudge, of the endless drivel being produced by his company, went bad? What if he went beyond the editors usual pranks of letting slip in a cuss word or a bare nipple, and began to slip in the details for a pipe bomb?

Such is the story of Serial Killer, by Pat Mills and & Kevin O'Neill. Dave Maudling works the long shift on a series of classic British Comics. Dave is a broken man, working a job driving him mad one panel at a time. A man of complex desires, most notably for the endless pursuit of beautiful furs, a lithe Scottish co-worker, and listening to the demands of his dead mother.

But his editing work is poorly supervised, and Dave begins to find opportunities to insert his own viscous element into the pages of the hapless comics he edits. Just how long could it be before he manages to find a way to get readers to off themselves or others? Only one way to find out.

What makes this weird and wild novel all the funnier, is that it is the work of two of England's most respected comic creators.

No stranger to the toils of editing, creator of legendary British comic 2000AD, Pat Mills has a comic career spanning decades. Creating classic characters like the Nemesis the Warlock and Slaine, and to this day penning new work like sexy cult hit Requiem: Vampire Knight.

Kevin O'Neill is perhaps one of the most notorious names in comics art. His instantly recognizable art appeared in many classic 2000AD strips, and his work would also prove to be too graphic for the comic code to handle in an infamous DC comics controversy. O'Neill also brought to life modern seminal classic League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

People like me grew up in the Golden age of British comics, with Judge Dredd and the rest of 2000AD bringing respect to the field. Pat and Kevin grew up in the hard years, when the only choices you'd find were the endless likes of Buster, Topper, and The Dandy. When they've worked together, Mills and O'Neill have created some of the most memorable works in British comics. A left and a right of one great beast.

Serial Killer is a unique novel, weird and stylish, lit with the blackest of comedy. English readers in particular will love the echoes of the Beano and a dozen other old Brit rags found throughout the story, and the entire novel is peppered with excerpts from the latest stories Dave and his fellow editors are currently working on. These snippets of quirky characters and deliberately terrible period pieces are some of the novels best moments, painfully accurate facsimiles of the kind of crap we all used to read for 10p a week back in the day.

Mills and O'Neill make memorable work in novel form, and it'll be a lot of fun to see what they come up with next.

Serial Killer is available here

Comic Review: All-New Guardians of the Galaxy.

The Guardians of the Galaxy are a team that's close to my heart. A group of space faring adventurers, travelling the galaxy and surfing the fringes of heroism. 

The team have been around, in some form or another, for decades now. The ever changing team a protean lineup of anti-heroes, weirdos, and genuine superheros. Until recently, you never quite knew who you were going to get each time a new issue rolled around. 

With the surprise success of the film adaptation, the lineup has solidified somewhat around five core characters. Drax the Destroyer, Gamora, the most dangerous woman in the Galaxy, stand-out fan favorite duo Rocket and Groot, and their plucky leader Star-Lord. They are all great characters, to be certain. It can't be easy juggling five main characters every issue, even if one of them doesn't exactly have much dialogue. 

Keeping the balance between five protagonists isn't easy, especially in a book with a strong comedic tone. Who's the funny guy? Basically all of them, if you do it right. Giving five heroes fair screen time, and crafting a story on top of it all, isn't an easy job. 

For the last five years, the Guardians of the Galaxy reins have been gripped in the hands of Brian Michael Bendis. 

Now it's very popular to take a shot at Bendis. He's the butt of a lot of jokes for comic fans and creators, but to call him a bad writer just wouldn't be fair. He's created memorable characters, been at the helm of some great stories, and pens more books in a season than many other writers do in years. 

Not every writer is a good fit for every book, however. As a huge fan of the characters found in the Guardians of the Galaxy, his work on it left a lot to be desired. The series added members every few issues, with Captain Marvel, Angela, Eddie Brock, Kitty Pryde, and the ever lovin' blue eyed Thing to name a few. Stories became predictable, verging on repetitive. In the five years past, without going back to look, I can only remember a scant handful of events that transpired within those pages. It lacked a cohesive story, an appropriate villain, and love for the heroes it dealt with. A writer need not introduce brand new members to the team each week when they have yet to flesh out the characters that are on the cover. No one picks up Guardians of the Galaxy and exclaims "Wonder what the Thing is up to this month!"

By the end of Bendis' run. A quote from one of my favorite stage plays often came to mind: 

Generally speaking, things have gone about as far as they can possibly go, when things have gotten about as bad as they can reasonably get.

It was time for a change. 

I was thrilled to hear that the pen was being passed to Gerry Duggan. A younger writer, Duggan is currently best known as the driving force behind turning Deadpool from a Looney Tunes character into a hero with weaknesses, complexities, and sharper comedy than ever before. He delivers characters with real voices.

From the pages of the first issue, there's a lot to love about the All-New Guardians of the Galaxy. 

As our heroes pull off the most over-the-top smash and grab bank robbery in galactic history, we already see development in the characters we know. Drax has been soul searching, maybe finding new ways to do things in life, new mysteries from Gamora's past arise to befuddle her team-mates, and Groot has reverted to his sprig form, a mysterious growth halt afflicting the botanical hero. 

There's an enigmatic antagonist to be found in the form of the Grandmaster, a collector of unique baubles from around the galaxy. Blackmailing the Guardians into obtaining a new acquisition for him, the Grandmaster's plans threaten to sever the professional relationship the Guardians have with a certain other cosmic Collector. 

The artwork from Aaron Kuder is clear, colourful, and kinetic. Most of the Guardians have even undergone a design shift for their new story as well, distancing them a little from their movie counterparts, helping separate them from sometimes overbearing movie personas.  

All-New Guardians of the Galaxy is off to a vibrant start, and I'm eager to see where Duggan takes the characters. There's a whole lot of room for weirdness in that big old space up there. 

All-New Guardians of the Galaxy #1, written by Gerry Duggan with art by Aaron Kuder, is on the shelves today.

The Price of Freedom

The stage was constructed of hard, blackened wood. Weathered by years of city filth, rain and the tread of a hundred thousand pairs of bare feet. Nails protruded here and there, indicating shoddy repair over the years, and the guards on either side of the wide staircase were nudging the ascending men and women with the shafts of their pole-arms to help them avoid tearing their feet. In a few moments, the small crowd were looking on with vague interest as the dozen men and half a dozen women were lined up.

The slave-master, a corpulent man with a finely trimmed beard held in a gold ring, was treading between them, poking a man in the gut here, a women in the small of her back there.

“Stand up straight.” He snapped, his switch darting out and prodding a huge, muscled youth in the abdomen. Nearby him a teenage girl was weeping softly. The slave-master stepped over to her and lowered his voice.

“Come now, not the time for that. You smile, show your teeth, and look happy. No one wants a crying girl full of troubles and tears. Pretty girl, probably be snapped up by some young dandy eh? Yes... lovely.”

The man stepped back, his chins wobbling, and surveyed the girl afresh.

“Actually, come, Lonn!” He called. One of his guardsmen trotted over, armour clanking. The slave-master clicked his fat fingers at the girl, up and down, indicating her.

“This one shouldn’t be here, look at her. She’s far too pretty. Have her up with the nice ones! Every time I find these mistakes at the last minute! This is very distressing!”

His great bulk giving the stage cause to groan, he tottered off, not watching as the guard shoved the girl to the other side of the stage where the shapelier, comelier examples were gathered, and had her shift unceremoniously removed. Naked, she remained weeping whilst the slave-master addressed the crowd.

It was a good day for it, the crowd seeming energetic. The slave-master’s plants asked the best questions, demanded the finest muscles to be flexed, the finest breasts bared, and of course drove up the price with a careful bid placed where necessary. The weeping girl sold swiftly, tear stained though she was. A gaggle of pretty young women with personal bodyguards were in the front row, giggling and pushing at each other, demanding to see the most well muscled of the males on offer, and squealing with laughter when a mountain of a man had his breech-clout removed to reveal his endowment.

Ten of the best sold, the slave-master began lowering prices, selling a few off in bulk to a shipbuilder for hard labor, and two women to a whorehouse, regardless that both were far homelier and better fit to scullery work than the more expensive females on offer. It was a while before the plants asked the question that would set them off.

“Where’s the special ones today?”

“Yeah, last week you had the Orc woman! I watched her rip the head clean off a wolf in the pits! And tits big as watermelons!”

The slave-master raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Oh my friends, my friends. Good people such as yourselves know quality, I am aware. This week, I feared I would let you down. Why, after being the proud procurer of such fine flesh as Devon Town, who even now stands champion of the melee combat arena here in Truronia, yes! He was purchased right here!”

He stomped a sandal clad foot down on the boards beneath him, gesturing to the reverence of the place beneath his feet.

“Even the beguiling eyes of Lady Gresch, the Dawn Elf actress. Once she stood, golden hair gleaming, naked, upon this very stage, for the taking of a wise buyer. This week, I feared nothing would match such grand sales of the past. I know the finest of Truronia comes here, to me, to find their next hero, their next legend!”

He shook his head, his chins wobbling, building up to a crescendo.

“That was, until only two nights ago! When the gods themselves saw fit to throw a creature of such uniqueness into my hands, I knew not what to do. Why, what would a simple, honest businessman like myself do, when something falls into my hands I know to be wild, uncontrollable. Even my trained guards are afraid, see them quiver!”

“Come on!”

“What is it?”

“Bring him out already!”

Genuine questions. The slave-master gave a flourish, jabbering to his guardsman over his shoulder.

“Lonn! Get her! Go!”

He bowed, far as his bulk would allow, to his audience.

“Fine people of Truronia, if you seek rarity. I present to you, merchandise unlike any you have ever seen before!”

It took two guards to gingerly escort the slender figure up the staircase, and although the woman made no violent move, both kept at arm's distance. Her step was light, and would have been quiet if she had not been hobbled with a manacles about her ankles, her arms held tight behind her back with similar noisy metal cuffs.

The audience seemed disappointed.

“A girl?”

“A skinny one!”

Once herded to the front of the stage, the slave-master strode up proudly to gesture pudgy fingers covered in rings at the new arrival.

“If you seek rarer examples of flesh, seek no further.”

The woman was clearly slim, hidden behind a filthy white shift, her entire head covered in a tied sack. The slave-master made a patient pass around behind her, delighting in the theatrics.

“I never thought I’d get a chance to reveal a being of such quality, Such rarity. Only the truly specialized in taste would seek something so....dangerous?” He licked his lips, a look of mock fear on his face. He paused longer for effect, before he slipped forward to tug the ties from the girl’s back. Her shift slipped loose around sharp collarbones.

“Off with it girl!” The slave-master barked, prodding her in the back.

A snarl came from beneath the sacking obscuring her face, but the shoulders of the figure shrugged, and the shift came slipping off to the floor. The crowd gave a gasp of mixed appreciation and surprise. A few men whistled lewdly.

The revealed skin was pale, unburned by the glaring sun. Not in the welcoming milkiness of a courtesan's soft flesh, however, but ghost pale skin, bearing the harsh blue lines of veins beneath. It gave the suggestion of the wan translucency normally reserved for the dead.

Where other women on display tended towards an underfed gauntness or an adolescent skinniness, the form now standing naked center stage was a warrior work of art. The woman was a masterpiece of tight, lean muscle. From long legs built for running, to a tense stomach lined with the shadow of lean abdominal muscle. All over, the body bore tales of combat, the thin white scars of blades, yellowing bruises from the impact of fists or clubs. Through all the damage, the girl stood like she were made of stone, straight, unbowed.

There were appreciative calls from the crowd, the fitness of the subject obviously head and shoulders above the rest on display.

“Don’t be fooled. The strength in these nubile arms is like a quay chain. Why, it’s only her temper held in check that keeps her from tearing loose this very moment!” The slave-master cried, spreading his hands wide.

“How does she fuck?” Called a voice.

There was a guffaw from the audience. The slave-master addressed it with a pointed finger.

“Ah, certainly a fine question. Especially with such treats to the eyes as you are lucky to see!”

He gestured to the girl’s pert breasts, the pale points of nipples upturned to the sky and the high curving hipbones that angled down invitingly. At the apex of the girl’s thighs, a mound of bright purple hair made a visual exclamation point of her cunt.

“A clear delight in all the fleshy respects, any man can see that. Surely she is a wild animal among the sheets! But to bring this one to bed.... do you dare? For this young lady is far more than meets the eye. My fine people of Truronia, I invite you, if you so dare, to lay eyes on one touched by the fires of the infernal realms!”

Throwing his arms wide to punctuate his mystical finish, the slave-master untied the string around the sacking, and pulled it from the woman’s head.

The crowd gasped, some in awe, some in delight. A mop of unkempt purple hair crusted with old blood adorned her head, hanging over a face that surely hadn’t seen twenty summers. A face with high cheekbones and a small, cruel mouth. Her eyes closed against the sudden brightness at first, but when opened, surveyed the crowds before her with glaring yellow orbs. Bloodshot and watery, the eyes had the suggestion of madness about them, darting from face to face, observing.

The red lips turned down in distaste, and her arms made one brief tug against the manacles that held her hands behind her back.

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, fine people of Truronia. Whether you seek a warrior on par with the most savage Orcress, a lover more wild than a Merrow whore, or a mind sharper than the Shattered edges, Protiya can be all, for one who dares! Show ‘em your teeth girl!”

The woman named Protiya opened her mouth into a snarl, baring a ruby red tongue and teeth noticeably sharp. Her canines were curved inwards enough to give an animal edge to the expression, not in the least softened by one on the bottom, which was cracked and broken from some savage strike to the mouth. Her expression remained a picture of disinterested disgust, but a cock to her hips suggested she took some delight in frightening people. Protiya leaned forward, extending her tongue at one of the young women in the front rows. Recoiling women squealed, silks held tight in hands and expressions of disgust and fear obvious.

Still the eyes looked, they darted. Searching. She met the eyes of a man midway through the crowd. She let her teeth close on her bottom lip ever so briefly, letting it pop out with the barest suggestion.

Before the slave master could continue his sales pitch, the man raised a well manicured hand.

“I like her spunk! I can tame her!” He shouted, stepping forward. Draped in aristocratic finery, a guard at his side. He’d already purchased himself a tall, willowy blonde that was waiting patiently nearby.

The slave-master gestures open handed to the man, eyebrows raised.

“Surely sir, you seek women of finer taste, of softer edges than this...this beast you see before you!”

The man approached the stage, the arm of his previous acquisition gripped firmly by his guard.

“She is no beast, she’s just been taught a thing or two more than once. Maybe she needs a soft touch.”

He reached out to touch Protiya’s leg from the ground before the stage. The tight limb gave a little, edging towards his caress.

The slave-master leaned towards his customer, resting his hand on Protiya’s naked hip.

“Do you think you are up to the task sir? Surely you are a man of discerning tastes, not a trader in blood for the pits?”

The man was looking up at Protiya, his viewpoint granting him an unapologetic gaze between the warrior’s legs. He wasn’t looking at the eyes, that stared past him at the guardsman. At blades, at buckles in armor.

“Two thousand, silver.”

The slave-trader threw up his hands exasperatedly.

“Two thousand he says?” He asked of the crowd. There was traditional jeering, even from those who’d never see that much money in their lifetimes.

“Two and a half!” Came the call from one of the slave-master’s plants. The portly man pointed a finger.

“Another admirer of the demon’s charms!” the slave-master looked to the man at his feet, open hand as if to grasp the next bid.

The man was staring up at Protiya, at the sharp line of her hips, the taut stomach.

The slave-master’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, concerned his plant had gone too high.

Protiya’s eyes, finished of their appraisal, dropped to meet those of the admirer at her feet. Slowly, a smile touched her wolfish features. Teeth showing at the corners of her lips. A smile full of kisses and promises.

“Can you speak, girl?” He asked.

“Speak? She can read even! A mind behind the ferocity in those eyes. Speak, girl!” The slave-master jabbed her in the gut with his switch.

Protiya opened her mouth, taking a breath, slowly.

“I greet thee. Who, heart willing, leads me over mountains to freedom. They will envy us our nest.”

Her voice was like rattlesnake kisses in the ear. Husky and dry, but sweet.

“Three thousand.” He said, smiling up at the girl.

The slave-master clapped his hands,

“If there is nothing further?” He asked of the crowd tersely, drumming fingers on the back of his hand in an apparently idle gesture, his signal for plants to stop bidding. Then his eyes glimmered with glee.

“Sold! Fine sir, quite a purchase I assure you. This one is capable of oh so much. Much more than meets the eyes.”

The slave-master gestured for his guards to redress the girl, but the man hissed up at him.

“I’ll take her as is. The outfit suits her.” He smiled, and Protiya smiled back. Her expression crumpled with discomfort as she twisted in her manacles.

“Off with the steel, I have assistance.” The man demanded.

The slave-master, coming around, grabbing hands eager for coin, waved a finger in warning.

“I would highly recommend keeping the steel on until you get her home. Fast legs, this one. I’ll add in the manacles, superior quality, for just fifty extra. The girl also had some personal belongings, leathers, jewelry, so on.”

Protiya’s eyes were turned down, slowly creeping up to meet her new master's gaze.

“No, I think she’ll behave. She won’t be needing her old things.”

The slave-master tutted, but shrugged, waving a hand at Lonn to remove the manacles about the girl's wrists and ankles.

Free of her bonds, Protiya rubbed her wrists silently, and after looking at the offered limb for a long moment, took the hand that was offered to lead her from the wooden stage of the slave block.

The slave-master regained the stage after much huffing and puffing back up, and resumed his sales pitch. His echoing voice fading behind as the bodyguard gripped Protiya by the shoulder and steered her after her new master.

People parted in the rich man’s wake as he strode proudly away, followed by the barely dressed blonde, her eyes downcast, with Protiya and the guardsman last.

---

As they strode through the stone alleyways of Truronia’s market district, he began to speak over his shoulder.

“In my home, you will find all the amenities you should need. The bath house, the games quarter. You will respect the authority of my staff, and in turn you shall be respected. He stole a glance back over his shoulder, at the blonde, and Protiya looming behind.

“You, you have any skills beyond the obvious?”

The blonde coughed, like there was something stuck in her throat.

“Speak when you’re spoken to, girl. You will learn.”

The girl gave another startled cough, before nodding concomitantly.

The man sighed.

“You were four hundred silver Callans, we get what we pay for, don’t we? I’ve spent more on horses.”

He looked back, to where Protiya was staring. Always staring, that one. He smiled inwardly, eager to get her home for exploration.

“You stay out of the main halls, and enter only by the doors that border the gardens and the pools, unless you’re asked to present to the house I don’t expect to see….”

He continued, going over the houses, the rules as they strode through a low overhang and into an empty alley. He paid no heed to the filthy derelicts in the street as he stepped over them, nor the noises of scuffle behind him.

“As for the evenings, when you are sent for...”

The blonde gave a started mutter, a few words.

“Interrupt me when I am speaking, and you’ll learn, again. Do you hear?”

Irritation caused him to finally turn his head, and his intended threat died in his throat.

His bodyguard was fighting for breath through a mouthful of blood, a dagger buried to the hilt between the clasps of his breastplate.

The man stepped back in shock, his voice choking and lost in the awareness of mortality. The guard crumpled to the dust, and with not so much as a shadow to mark her disappearance, Protiya was gone.

---

The slave master was whistling to himself as he lay out the day's takings in neat piles on his desk, doing up each bag of two thousand callans with dainty bows. He patted the last bag on the top like it was a pet, and crossed the room to throw open the windows to the Truronia night. Moonlight gleamed through into his small chamber.

He began to move to his decanter, the fine red liquor his reward at the end of any day, and stopped as he passed a small chest.

Muttering to himself, he nudged the chest open with a chubby foot, and bent to pull out the contents.

Two blades, small and sharp. His careful eye squinted. Possibly silver. He placed them on the bed.

A horrid looking claw attachment. He tried it over his own hand. Too small. Pretty though, filigree carving. He placed it beside the knives.

A shortsword. Cheap. He tossed it behind him where it clattered to the floor by the bedpan for the maid to remove.

The garments he removed looked positively ridiculous next to his frame. Small black silks, some plain underthings, a set of leather armour, black, cut for a small frame. He turned them around, seeking any sign of superior design or craftsmanship.

The slave master knew the prices of many things, but garments weren’t among them. Especially a female’s. He snorted to himself. The less they had to wear, the better, as far as he was concerned. He balled up the garments tight and moved to toss them behind him, when the light from the window was blocked.

He turned, and gave a shriek.

Protiya was squatting in the window frame. Balanced with arched feet, her lithe body was luminous in the moonlight, elbows resting on her spread knees. She gave a horrible smile. His heart gave a lurch, and he turned for the door.

The woman was behind him before the slave master even taken a step. Her body pushed up against his back, her claws around his throat. She spun him in her arms and pinched his face close to hers, hot breath in his eyes.

His voice squeaked through pinched lips, and she tossed him aside. Losing his balance, he crashed into his nightstand, sending his decanter smashing to the floor in shatters of crystal.

He looked up through blurry eyes. Protiya slipped the undergarments on, then the silks, and began strapping on her leathers.

“What are you going to do with me?” He said, his voice quiet in the little room.

Protiya didn’t look back at him, only strapped the claw onto her wrist. She flexed it, and let her arm drop to her side. The black armour fit her frame like second skin. She left the shortsword where it lay, and instead swiped two of the pouches from the desk.

The slave master reached out a fat little hand as if to stop her, then thought better of it. He watched as Protiya weighed the two pouches of silver coins. She threw one to the ground, and stuffed the other into her belt loop.

She moved for the window, the armour making no sound with the movement.   

Protiya gave the man a look as she climbed out the window, her yellow eyes peering down curiously at the fat man on the floor, his bedrobe stained with wine he’d traded a teenage girl for.

“Find happiness.” She cooed, and leapt from the window into the Truronian night.

Movie Review: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2

While it takes great creativity to start a film series from nothing, it takes both bravery and love to follow on with a worthwhile sequel. James Gunn is a director that, way back from his Troma roots, continues to show ample amounts of all three.

2014's Guardians of the Galaxy was the pleasant surprise of the Marvel cinematic universe. An original story, with characters positively unheard of to the every day moviegoer (and practically to comic fans as well), it proved to be the most fun and enjoyable entry in the superhero universe to date, as well as one of the highest rated films of the year.

With the predicted major releases of further entries in the MCU like Thor 3, Avengers 4, and recently reclaimed properties like licence-to-print-money Spider-Man, I did not expect Guardians to get a sequel.

Luckily, Marvel seem to realize what they have in Gunn, and he returns with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, once again at the helm writing and directing with total creative control. These are characters he is clearly deeply passionate about, in a story told with great bravery, and a whole lotta love.

We return to our team's adventures following the defeat of Ronan the Accuser as they ply their galaxy guarding trade far across the universe. The team fight together as a well-oiled machine, rescuing valuable batteries from an intergalactic starfish monster while listening to classic tunes. It's clear that the group have grown closer since the last film. Tighter than friends, they are virtually family, even playing group parents to the tiny infant Groot.

Returning from their adventure, the Guardians encounter the Sovereign, a race of privileged 'perfect' people. Gold skinned, beautiful, and effortlessly fabulous, the Sovereign are one of the most fun-to-hate alien species I've ever seen in film. The Sovereign find dire offence at the slightest perceived affront, and soon enough the Guardians are fleeing an army of insulted intergalactic trust fund kids.

When their pursuers are fought off single-handedly by an unknown figure, the guardians are confronted by their strangest new encounter yet, in the form of the mysterious and powerful Ego.

Elements of each character's past are explored in Guardians Vol 2, and we find out a little more about our heroes. Family plays a strong role in the story told here. There are powerful tales of families past, ranging from the hidden history of Star-Lord's parentage and the tragedy of Drax's fallen wife and daughter, to families broken in need of healing, as Gamora's estranged sister Nebula seeks her out across the stars. Even Rocket, a creature who has no true family to speak of, finds brotherhood in the strangest of places.

As before, the ancillary characters are some of the best, with some brilliant performances by returning faces like the lovable rogue Yondu, as well as many new ones. The Ravagers are wilder and weirder than ever, a complete riot. Once again, Guardians shines in its incredible use of both on set makeup and digital effects to create some standout looking characters.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 is a quieter film than its predecessor by leaps and bounds. The time between action set pieces may be a bit much for some seeking excitement, but the time is well filled, and evenly paced throughout. For a story spanning galaxies and worlds it is also surprisingly focused, with no major sub plots intersecting, preferring to focus more on one neater story.

Once again the gallery of characters is juggled well, with everyone playing their part. While Vol 2 is chiefly a Star-Lord story, characters are never left to fade into the background, and new faces like Mantis, an adorable and naive alien empath, are given ample time to shine. The merchandising-friendly fan-favorite, Groot, is wisely not turned into a gimmick, and with more economical screen time, is never reduced to being predictable or a repetitive joke. An ensemble cast of this size isn't without weak links inevitably, and for the second time I was left unimpressed with Nebula. Easily forgotten when she's not on the screen, her role seems to demand a weight that isn't reflected in the performance delivered.

A trademark of the series, the film is also packed with enough easter eggs to keep you searching, and character cameos both obvious to the casual fan, and so obscure that even comic book fanatics will be wracking their brains.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 stands apart from the other Marvel movies. Not only literally, as the story does stand alone, but in feeling. It is a story more of heart than of action, more of family than of friendship. It is a very well put together film, and bozhe moi, does it remain a lot of fun from start to finish.

Carathis (Art)

Two beautiful takes on Carathis, by Alexandra Kronz

Comic Review: Perlman's 'Gamora', Tamaki's 'Hulk'.

Women in comics have begun to see a Renaissance in the last few years, both on the page and behind the pen. Significant female characters like Captain Marvel, Thor, and Medusa are face figures and cover stars of many of the big name books on the shelves. What were once comedy one-shot personalities like Squirrel Girl have seen a massive boost in popularity, and brand new heroes like Ms Marvel are surprise international bestsellers. 

More female characters getting their own books shows some great changes to the shelves, especially considering there are some fantastic characters out there that have been done disservices in recent years, by either runs cancelled long before their time, or being relegated to the background in team books.

Two new books taking off this year deal with two such major characters, and furthermore, both books have female writers at the helm. 

Nicole Perlman writes Gamora, the solo book of the classic cosmic marvel warrior woman, more recently brought into the spotlight by her role in Guardians of the Galaxy. Gamora is a character who has suffered somewhat over the years from a lack of definition. Different writers take her in different directions, and as a result, the details of personality are tough to nail down. She was a sidekick to Adam Warlock, a love interest to Nova, and a group member in multiple incarnation of the Guardians, but never had a series of her own before. Perlman's run on Gamora, taking the character back to her years as a youth, aims to fix this problem by bringing the Most Dangerous Woman in the Galaxy to the center stage.

Under the watchful eye of her adoptive father Thanos, a teen aged Gamora learns the art of war alongside her troublesome sister Nebula. A star orphan, Gamora's entire race was wiped out by the Badoon empire, and the young woman is driven by a powerful urge to see the alien race punished for their genocide. When the last breeding female of the Badoon royal family is located on a dying planet, Gamora defies her tyrannical father and scheming sister to carry out her revenge. However the young women she finds, and indeed the inhabitants of the doomed planet Ubilex, are not what she expected. 

The new Gamora we find here is still the fearless, brutal fighting warrior we've known over the years, but this younger (and better dressed) incarnation shows more heart, and more in her head than we've seen before. She has a voice, beyond that of 'the serious one' role she was constantly relegated to in the pages of Guardians. The teenage Gamora is entertaining, inquisitive, and even fun. It will be great to see where the run takes the daughter of Thanos as it continues.

We come to the opposite end of the personality spectrum in Mariko Tamaki's new She-Hulk series. Simply called HULK, the story takes us through the daily existence of district attorney Jennifer Walters, the woman also known as the Savage She-Hulk. 

She-Hulk has been through a lot both on and off the page in times gone past. A character depicted as anywhere from a rampaging allegory for menses, to a fourth wall breaking pin-up model popping out of her underwear, the character remains misunderstood, and often the butt of jokes. Only recently have writers taken more to the intriguing side of the character and explored the life of a working lawyer. Unlike attorney at law Matt Murdock, unknown by his clients to be Daredevil, Jennifer Walters hasn't hidden her identity as She-Hulk, so everyone from her clients to her coworkers know.

In Tamaki's new run, a side of Jen is explored that we really haven't seen before. The side of a woman broken both mentally and emotionally by the rigors of battle. After losing her close friend and suffering a near death experience at the hands of Thanos, Jen does what she hasn't in years, and returns to her every day appearance, a slight brunette, shy and stressed, just trying to start over with her life. Beginning work at her new law form, Jen meets hordes of new clients, all the strange cases that only the She-Hulk can handle. Trying to make it through her days one moment at a time, Jen struggles with PTSD, and coming to terms with the slow lack of control she finds in her own powers.

This is a She-Hulk unlike any we've seen before, taking the playful, perpetually confidant woman and showing the deep troubles present when she isn't showing her brave face to everyone around her. The exhaustion of the constant facade she presents, and the endless struggle to maintain her composure and not 'Hulk-out'. She's a sweet character, lovable and identifiable. The mysteries of her newest case, a freakish shut-in young woman being unfairly evicted from her home, are just one among the struggles she faces, as she's mansplained by coworkers in a building she could quite literally smash to rubble if she loses her cool. 

Both these books, while wildly different, are great shows of new writers work, and great new looks into classic characters. There's so much to explore here, and I'm looking forward to continuing both these runs. 

Both Hulk and Gamora are on shelves now.