Soundtrack of Life - Til I Hear it From You

Back when I was doing the From Claremont to Claremont program, I had this idea to include odd bits of flavor into the mix. Rather than it just being an eight hour non-stop comics discussion, it would become a 12 hour comics and "other stuff" discussion. I was working with a slew of co-hosts, each one focusing on one title. I thought it would be interesting to add some "getting to know you" type stuff -- part in attempt to attract engagement, part just because I thought it would be a good time. I really had some grandiose plans for FCTC... thought it would be far more successful, and be around for a long time. It was not... and is not.

For the first episode, we included a rather boilerplate "Tell me your history with the X-Men" bit... which, stood to reason. For the second, I literally swiped a page out of Marvel's Bullpen Bulletins -- and conducted the same interview Marvel would put their editors thru back in the mid-80's "Pro-File" segment. For the third episode, I tasked the fellas with putting together what they'd consider to be the "Soundtrack of their Life". Songs that either meant a lot to them, or that exemplified a profound moment in their lives. As with the first two episodes, I would provide my own answers during the final closing segment.

Since Episode 3 is incomplete (what's done IS available in segment form), and at this point -- very likely to remain that way, I never got the opportunity to share mine. I did create one though. And, hey -- why not share a song or two from it here?

Today's song, off the "Soundtrack of My Life" is Til I Hear it From You by the Gin Blossoms (1995). A song that I'd always dug -- I feel like the Gin Blossoms are a highly underrated band. Well worth a dive through their discography, in my opinion. -- Til I Hear it From You was almost literally the Soundtrack of one of the tougher days I'd experienced just a few years ago.

This was almost exactly three years ago - May, 2019. It was the day that Reggie suffered his aortic dissection... or, the day after, rather -- it was the day I found out about it (that's almost another Gin Blossoms song right there!). I'm not sure I've written/said much about this day "in public" -- I know I've spoken about Reggie's passing, almost exactly one year later in May, 2020 -- but, I don't think I've told this one yet. Ehh, not like it matters -- I'm still gonna tell it now anyway.

Very early the morning of, I'd woken up to use the restroom. This was and is a regular occurrence -- happens to dudes of a certain age... and, from what I hear, it's only going to get worse. I'd never check my phone, as a) I wanna get back to sleep as quick as possible, and b) I'm legally blind without my glasses... so, it'd be a big to-do anyway. This morning, however -- for whatever reason, I did.

There was a text message from an unknown New York-based phone number. Now, here's the thing - I know almost literally nobody. I don't talk to anybody -- very, very few people have my phone number. I assumed this was either a wrong number, or some malicious attempt at getting me to click a link or something. I took a closer look, and as I rubbed the sleep outta my eyes, realized that it was Reggie's wife -- and that something bad had happened.

I didn't realize quite how bad. I saw the word "aortic", and just assumed that he had a (mild) heart attack. I was sure that by the end of the day, he and I would talk -- and, he'd quickly be on the mend -- before we knew it, everything'd be back to normal.

I couldn't get back to sleep. I didn't respond right away to the text, either. Instead, I headed downstairs -- fixed a cup of coffee -- and set about getting started with my day. If you've been following this site, this was during the time I was working on Action Comics Daily. As luck would have it, I found myself about a week ahead of schedule -- and didn't exactly need to do any writing that day. That said, I was still planning on writing something. That something was the script for the Mary Worth "Aldo Kelrast" episode of The Cosmic Treadmill -- which I'd been chipping away at for a week or two at this point.

As I sat down to start pecking away -- I decided that... maybe I should do a little bit of research on whatever an aortic dissection is. If you don't know, it's a ridiculously terrifying event... with a very scary mortality rate. It's how John Ritter died. Also, comics artist Mike Wieringo. It was becoming clearer and clearer that this might not be something that one could come back from. At least not easily.

Now, I'm a simple guy. Very analogue -- in that, I have a hard time reconciling the internet and real life as being, in many ways, the same thing. Part of me still thought that nothing had happened to Reggie... and that, later that day we'd be trading DMs like any other day. Because... the internet and real life aren't the same. Right? I'm not sure if it was my being in denial... or being just plain stupid. In any event, I was about to get a lesson in how wrong I was.

Throughout the first half of the day, I was texting with his wife, Lizzy. She was sending periodic updates... which, I wasn't able to wrap my head around. I mean, it still wasn't real -- it still wasn't true. I felt like I was, in a way, basically just "playing along" with the lie.

The house became kind of claustrophobic. Walls started to close in. Not sure if that was a result of reality setting in... or, just me being me. Either way, I needed to get out. But, where to go? I literally have nowhere to go. My only hobby is comics... and, so much of that was predicated on digging around shops looking for stuff that Reggie and I could talk about on the air. Maybe reality was setting in.

Anyway, I got in the car and figured I'd just drive around for a bit. When the radio came on, Til I Hear it From You was playing. A line from that song, if you're not familiar with it, is: "I'll just figure everything is cool, until I hear it from you." This became kind of the anthem of the day. Nothing could possibly be wrong... until I heard it from him. Does that make sense? The song played... I listened... I heard that line, and -- I dunno if it's denial or density (probably a mixture of the two), but I dunno -- it felt appropriate. It also kinda fueled my irrational bias that - if I didn't literally see it, it wasn't there. It wasn't going on. Reggie's family wasn't waiting in some hospital to find out what's going on. You understand?

My travels that afternoon took me on a loop of the city. Phoenix's freeways are literally called "loops" -- you could drive for hours and wind up right back where you started. I did pull over at a comic shop -- but, I didn't go in. I just didn't see the point of it. During that drive, Til I Hear it From You played no less than a half-dozen times. At one point, it was playing on three stations at the same time. Every time I heard it, it... it's weird, it went from providing me this odd bit of comfort... to almost mocking me. It began to get under my skin.

While nearing the end of my journey, I received another text message update. It was a long one -- so, I pulled over to check it. This was the message where everything set in. Reality, fear, horror... it wasn't the sort of news I was expecting. I mean, I'd spent the entire day trying to convince myself that "everything is cool", right?

In this message, I learned that Reggie had not regained consciousness... and, while the doctors were confident he would survive -- they weren't so sure about the return of some motor functions. Which is to say, they didn't know if he'd ever walk again. I'm almost positive there were also questions regarding brain function -- but, I can't recall any particulars off hand. That was when I finally broke down. Up until that moment, I was able to trick myself into thinking this was nothing more than a hiccup. Granted, I'm an idiot -- and, an avoidant... so, it might stand to reason. But, it was with this message that reality set in -- and, it set in all at once. Like a hundred pound weight had been dropped on my chest.

I replied... thanking her for the update... and struggling to tell her how I couldn't imagine what she was going through. I was literally without words to describe how or what I was feeling. Shellshocked and instantly exhausted... I just didn't know what to say. I mean, what couldja say?

As I headed toward the house, Til I Hear it From You played one more time. I can't hear that song without thinking back to that day. It's relatable... or at least it was, before I got that dose of reality. It was the soundtrack to a profound and painful day. "As far as I know, nothing's wrong -- until I hear it from you." used to mean something... until it didn't. Thanks for reading.

If this piece made even less sense than I usually do -- I should mention that I'm typing this up on my phone. My laptop grenaded, and I've yet to buy a replacement.

Housekeeping (May, 2022)

 Reggie once told me about a rap 'zine he used to write for. There was this fella who, for his second article turned in a repeated spiel of "All Work and No Play makes Jack a Dull Boy". Which, ya know -- sure, it's the internet, and it wasn't a paid gig -- and that's surely something someone might be able to get by with in lieu of providing, ya know, actual content... but maybe not for your second article. That's something that needs to be earned... and, I hope that over the past six and a half years (and near 2,500 articles), I've earned myself one'a those.

If you've been following my work of late, I apologize. In addition to being its normal flavor of terrible -- it's been bitter, angry... petulant.

A lot of misplaced aggression "in the margins" of my stuff... and, while I don't know that I owe an explanation for that -- I'd still like to try and give one. If for no other reason than to provide myself with a bit of a cathartic release. This is going to be... part monologue/part diary. I totally understand if you can't hit the back-button fast enough.

I've deduced that this hobby might not be the healthiest thing for me. If you listen to X-Lapsed, you may have heard me speak recently about my unconscious attempts at using what I do (here and on-the-air) as, for lack of a better term, a "surrogate" -- for something missing in my real life. This isn't a healthy place to be.

I spoke about this realization... and how I would try and reframe things a bit differently in my head to stop myself from doing this. I said those things with the best of intentions... unfortunately, it didn't take long to realize that this would prove far easier said than done.

Rather than beat around the bush... I'll just come out and say it. My wife and I have been trying to have a child for a while now, and it's just not happening. Frankly, I'm fairly certain that a litany of my past screwups are responsible for this fact... in that, I wasted away our prime "baby-making years" being rather useless. Now that things have turned around (I'm a little less useless now), I fear that it might be too late. My past behavior(s) may have robbed us both of something we wanted so badly.

I'm struggling with how to continue this piece... I can really only speak for myself, but I also wanna make broad sweeping statements. If I were a decent writer, I'd figure out how to make this work. Since I'm not, well -- I'll just give it my best shot. I feel like, as a person approaches middle-age -- and begins to realize that some of the formerly open windows have started to (or already have) shut... it might make them a bit, I dunno, "straw graspy". As in, grasping at straws (duh). In my case, I subconsciously began to think about things like legacy... not that I have all that great of one to carry on, but -- the opportunity to, I dunno "do right". It's kind of the futility of man in action... you (or I) think about what sort of mark (if any) we would leave behind. It's egotistical and selfish in a way, yeah -- but, it's one of those byproducts of having a child. A "bonus", even.

Honestly not something I'd even given a thought to... until the semi-recent realization that it just might not be in the cards for us.

As adult humans, free time is something of a premium. We all have our daily "stuff"... whether that be work, school, family -- usually a combination of the three. Setting aside the time to do something like this -- well, it's not always easy. Even now, as I sit here typing this self-indulgent piece -- it's brutally early in the morning. Since I don't always have the time to do this -- I make the time. It's thankless... and ultimately pointless, but I've made it part of my daily "stuff". I've made it a surrogate. A surrogate for something I need to constantly nurture... a surrogate for something I can leave behind.

Yes, I do tend to over-romanticize things... why do you ask?

Anyway, I've been at this awhile... and, while I do tend to overthink on "the numbers" or level of engagement... I've mostly been able to not let things like that interfere with a) the work, and b) my offline life. Lately, however, it's been made as clear as a slap across the face that -- my creative endeavors have very little meaning or purpose. Which, when looking at the content I provide and the niche that I serve, totally stands to reason. The rational part of me "gets" that. It's the less-rational part, the part that is using my "work" as a surrogate, that doesn't... and, ultimately can't "get" it.

Can't "get" it... and, of late, can't get passed it. Or, is it "past it"... I'll never know. Like I said, I ain't a good writer.

In the midst of coming to grips with our reproductive uncertainty (I was actually typing away at a script for the X-Lapsed Point One Patreon show on my phone while the wife and I were waiting to see her doctor), our dog passed away. I've mentioned this a time or two here -- but, haven't gone too deep on how it affected me. He was "the" constant in my life for fourteen years. He was my writing buddy, my gardening pal, my yoga partner... we were inseparable. He unwittingly became the surrogate child. I know people talk about "fur babies"... and, yeah, that might conjure up a cringy image, but... he was.

He'd been on the decline for a while, and was requiring a lot more of our attention. He had suffered a spinal injury... actually shortly after I started this blog. The emergency vet assured us he'd never walk again... and that, we'd have to flip him over every few hours so he wouldn't develop sores. In my limited experience, emergency vets tend to want you to put down your pet for just about anything. Naturally, once we were two steps out of the place, he spotted a rabbit and forced himself outta my arms to chase it.

So, while he was okay and mobile then (our real vet just had us cage him up for a month, which did the trick)... he still did suffer the injury... and it would eventually catch up to him. It took six years to do so... if nothing else, pugs are stubborn. They even say "no" to their own dinged-up spinal cords! Up until late last summer (2021), he was okay. A little wobbly every now and again... but, could take care of himself. Maybe he wasn't jumping up onto the couch anymore, but he was mobile and happy.

Then the cancer came.

The cancer manifested as a small mass between his right eye and snout. Our vet warned us that it could be cancer, but also that it might not be. We held out hope that maybe it was an infection. Pugs have wrinkles, there's a big fold right over their noses, right? We hoped that, maybe we didn't do the greatest job cleaning out his wrinkle... and, maybe this little mass was the resultant infection.

Then it grew. And grew. And grew. It all happened so quickly. One day, this mass was suddenly bigger than his eyeball... and, there was, what appeared to be a tremendous sack of fluid built up under his right jowl. We rushed him in. The vet assured us that he wasn't in pain, but also told us that he had very little doubt that this was cancer. We were given the "keep him comfortable" diagnosis. Exactly one week later, he was gone.

In the final few months of his life, he required a lot more attention and help. I was more than happy to be there for him... as, I can say with zero uncertainty that he'd saved my life on more than one occasion. While he was also a primary focus in my life... it was intensified here. Then, he was gone.

I was (and still very much am) lost. When you're lost and flailing, you look for anything that might provide you with comfort... or, at the very least familiarity. For me, it was -- the blog and the shows. Like I said, this is not healthy... and it also sets too high an expectation on return. The blogging/podding "artiste" doesn't write for an audience, but for themself. When it stops being that way, it might be time to reevaluate. I'm a ridiculously slow learner.

When I spoke of this over on X-Lapsed, my takeaway was "I'm going to try and do better". It was like a veil was lifted... and, with this knowledge and understanding of what I was feeling, I was now mentally/emotionally equipped to press on. To try and not worry about anything but "the work". And, as I said above -- I had the best of intentions.

Intentions, unfortunately, don't always make'a the words come out.

What does any of this mean? I haven't the foggiest idea. Will there be content here or on the podcast tomorrow? Again, who knows? I thank you and apologize for wasting however much time it took you to read all'a this... since I don't actually have any clear closing statement or deduction. All's I know is that, if I'm going to continue with any'a this, I need to have a healthier relationship with a) myself, b) the content, and c) my expectations.

Weird Dose of X, Episode 1

 

Weird Dose of X, Episode One

I realized that I neglected to share the first episode of a project I am now a part of over on the Weird Science Comics Network. Yes, it's more of me talking about current-year X-Men... so, if you're a fan of that sort of thing, you might wanna check this out. If you're not... well, hopefully I'll have something more interesting for you tomorrow.

In their inaugural outing, Jason and Chris begin to set the table for the upcoming A/X/E Judgment Day event by going deep on the status quo of Marvel’s Mutants. Talking all about the seminal beats of Jonathan Hickman’s grand vision… it’s HoX/PoX heavy, with a side of Crucible! 

X-Men (v.2) #45 (1995)

 

X-Men (vol.2) #45 (October, 1995)
"The Enemy of My Enemy"
Writer - Fabian Nicieza
Pencils - Andy Kubert
Inks - Cam Smith
Colors - Kevin Somers and Malibu’s Hues
Letters - Richard Starkings and Comicraft
Edits - Raab, Harras
Cover Price: $3.95

I've long talked about this issue's place in my own personal comics-collecting "journey", even just the other day... but, haven't yet written an article to discuss what goes on behind the tarted-up and up-priced cover.

So, here goes!

--

We open with Rogue absolutely flipping out on Iceman. They have been on kind of a road trip ever since she put Gambit into a coma in the moments before the Age of Apocalypse kicked off. He’s since woken up… but, I don’t know if she knows that. Iceman’s pretty conflicted… and blames himself for Rogue’s outburst. Worth noting, he kind of has a crush on her at this point… so, yeah, this is before the Bendis retcon. Bobby ices up to try and defend himself… but it’s no use, she smashes up an ice-construct and soars into the sky.

Rogue finally calms down… long enough to express fear that she’s “too late”. When asked “too late for what”, she says “everything”. Ya see, she managed to nyoink some memories out of Gambit’s head… and this is back when they were still figuring out his past. Rogue says plainly that she has to confront those memories… those secrets, otherwise she’ll be running for the rest of her life.

Over to Gambit, in Seattle. It’s raining, because it’s Seattle. He’s there because he knows that’s where Rogue will be headed... and he’s not keen on her learning the “truth”.

Back to Rogue, at a Bar by the University of Washington. She’s wearing very little clothes… which, isn’t ideal when her powers are based on skin-to-skin contact. She asks for a beer… and damn near every patron in the place is happy to oblige. She’s so out to lunch that she even goes to pinch one of them on the cheek -- luckily, Bobby’s there to stop her… though, the drunken college kids don’t seem to appreciate him stepping in.

Rogue loses it again, and starts smashing the place up. All the while ranting about her curse of a mutant power. For a moment, it looks like she’s going to settle down... so, naturally Bobby presses her about what she learned when she kissed Gambit. This… naturally, sets her off again.

She flies through the roof… which tips off all of the bar patrons that they’re nothin’ but stinkin’ muties... as if her destroying the literal bar with her fist wasn’t enough. Lucky for Bobby, who was left by his lonesome, Gambit bursts through the wall before the drunks can attempt a dogpile. As they leave, Bobby asks if Gambit has any idea what Rogue might have learned. He’s all “yup… got lotsa ideas” -- When asked if he cares to share… he’s all “nope”.

We shift over to Manhattan, where anti-mutant muckity muck, Graydon Creed is sold on the idea of running for President of the United States in 1996.

Back in Seattle, we rejoin Rogue at a dilapidated theatre. She is soon joined by Gambit and Iceman. Bobby’s surprised that Gambit knew exactly where to go, but really… should he be? Rogue is shocked to find Gambit still among the living. They talk about secrets… and trust… and love. Rogue isn’t sure she can love him if she can’t trust him. Gambit ain’t sure he can love her if he can’t touch her. Hmm… that’s not exactly the same thing...

Rogue snaps again… tells Gambit she can feel his heart pounding… it seems like he’s realized he’s finally gotten caught. She yanks the curtain rigging down on top of Gambit. He tries to reason with her, but she ain’t havin’ it. She flies off through yet another roof, Bobby gives chase.

Rogue insists that Bobby is only sticking his nose into this matter because of a recent altercation he had with Emma Frost getting into his head. He doesn’t deny that.

With this bit of a distraction, Gambit is able to hit Rogue with a charged-up section of rope. This knocks her out of the sky, and sends her back into the theatre. Gambit’s had enough… enough seeing Rogue in such a state… enough of the lies… and it looks as though he’s about to reveal exactly what went down in this theatre back in the long ago. But, he doesn’t… instead, he says that’s all been “buried”, which doesn’t really help anybody.

Rogue talks about the near-fatal kiss… the M’Krann Crystal wave doing its thing… she’d never kissed anyone since killing Cody (err, Freddie) as a kid… she couldn’t help herself. So, she’s kind of blaming herself for all this… which kinda seems unfair, doesn’t it? I mean, Gambit always seemed up for it… regardless of risk. Gambit uses his gloved hand to wipe away Rogue’s tears… even tasting one to illustrate how they can still find ways to “touch” each other.

They embrace… but Gambit pulls back. He removes his glove and holds out his hand… offering Rogue the opportunity to learn more, if she so desires. Naturally, she does not. Rogue tells Iceman that she’s leaving the X-Men for a bit… but tells him to go back and be strong. She and Gambit tell each other that they love each other… but, ya know, sometimes love ain’t enough. Rogue flies off again… this time not through a roof! Or maybe it was through the hole she already made in the roof… I dunno.

Gambit tells Bobby to go home… and informs him that he’ll back back soon after… he’s gonna stick around Seattle for a few days. He also suggests that Rogue will eventually return to the X-Men… but, probably not to him (uh huh).

The following night, while walking down a seedy street, Gambit sees Mister Sinister in a darkened alley. They exchange pleasantries… a lot of “you can’t change your past” kind of stuff, before Sinister vanishes.

--

What can I say? This was a great issue.

Almost in spite of the pointless "tarted up" cover, this story doesn't go for the cheap pop. Instead, we get some progression in a story/relationship we'd all been following for years at this point. A (relatively) "quiet issue", the likes of which we really don't get to see anymore. Weird, isn't it? Comics have gotten more and more "talky" and insanely more decompressed... and yet, issues like this aren't really a thing anymore. Just an issue to collect ourselves... collect our thoughts, and kinda just get to know our characters as people. Just doesn't happen anymore... least not in the X-Books.

If you're reading this, well, you probably stumbled upon it by accident... or need to learn how to properly spell "crisis", so your Googling doesn't send you here, but also - you probably already know how this Rogue/Gambit/Sinister thing shakes out. Even back in the long ago, it was like the worst kept secret in comics. For all the rose-colored joy I have for the era, I can't deny that they would drag things out... almost to the point where the eventual reveals couldn't help but to fall flat. The mystery surrounding Gambit's past... I think that might be one'a them. Still fun reading, but -- I remember how this felt like it was dragging.

This is Fabian Nicieza's final issue... which, as the letters page (below) suggests, is The End of an Era. Nicieza was the writer of the very first issue of an X-Book I bought: X-Men (vol.2) #13! I'm sure I couldn't have told you that back then -- I probably still thought Stan Lee was writing everything. Looking back, Nicieza's writing style had a lot to do with me falling in love with these characters... and was a large part of me coming back to the shop week after week. I'd say, with this issue, he ended his run on a terrific high note.

Part of me wonders what my fandom would look like had this not come in a gimmicked package with a $3.95 price tag on it. Surely I'd not have walked away in 1995, right? Heck, maybe I'd have actually started writing about this stuff sooner... back when I had some potential, and a much better grasp of grammar and vocabulary. Back before the niche was flooded with folks who deal out "10 outta 10" reviews for their weekly pat on the head? Hmm, who knows...

Anyway, thanks for reading while I continue to wind this thing down.

--

(Near Impossible to read) Letters Page:

The Illustrated X-Lapsed - Powers of X #1 (2019)

Powers of X #1 (September, 2019)
“The Last Dream of Professor X”
Writer - Jonathan Hickman
Art - R.B. Silva
Colors - Marte Gracia
Letters - VC’s Clayton Cowles
Design - Tom Muller
Edits - Bissa, White, Cebulski
Cover Price: $5.99 US
Release Date: July 31, 2019

Here we are again... my attempt at making X-Lapsed a "multimedia" endeavor, to which you might say: Surely, this is a waste of your time.

To which I'd reply: Yes, you're probably right -- and don't call me Sh... waitasec, actually, maybe DO call me Shirley -- I bet more people (or people at all) would give a rat's ass about this place if I went by that!

IXL Disclaimer: These bits are straight outta my original X-Lapsed scripts... which is to say, they're chock-full of theories on stuff that's already been long answered, proven or disproven. Please keep that in mind when reading that these were my original hot-takes and thoughts. Still feel free to send in your "ackshully"s though, I need all the engagement I can get!

--

We open with a page featuring four “ages” of sorts. X to the 0th Power is YEAR ONE - The Dream. X to the 1st Power is YEAR TEN - The World. X to the 2nd Power is YEAR 100 - The War. X to the 3rd Power is YEAR 1,000 - Ascension. So… these are the “Powers of X” then? I gotta say, I may diverge a bit from the wide X-Base here, but… when we start getting into the wayyy far flung future… I kinda check out. Gimme not so distant future… or not so distant past, and I’m down.  But, 100 and 1000 years into the future?  This is gonna be a toughie.

We pop back to X to the 0th… Year One. We’re in the middle of that festival from the beginning of Chrono Trigger… when a familiar young woman approaches Charles Xavier, who is lounging on a park bench watching the festivities. They share some sorta flirtatious conversation. She talks about a fortune teller she’d just seen… and we can see three tarot-esque cards. One is the Magician, featuring a sword-wielding intangible girl stepping through a wall. One is the Tower, which depicts… well, a tower. The third is The Devil, with what looks like a red-skinned Nightcrawler.

Moira notes Charles’ happiness, and he reveals that he’d just had the most wonderful dream… about a better world, and what part he will play in it. Moira tells him that dreams ain’t dreams… if they’re real. This triggers a bit of suspicion in the Prof… and he asks if they’ve ever met. She invites him to read her mind.

After the credits page...s, because we need two, we shift to X to the 1st Power, which is evidently Year Ten. So… everything that’s happened to this point since X-Men #1 in 1963 has occurred in a single decade?  Hmm… I’m never a fan of pin-pointing dates inside a clustered chronology… regardless of how good a story might be, I worry that something like THIS will be a sticking point for me. I’m a weird dude, remember… I’m easily lost in the weeds.

Anyhoo, it’s X to the one-th, and we’re on Krakoa. Mystique and Toad are here to deliver that data they’d stolen from Damage Control in House of X #1... Before handing the goods over to Magneto, however, she tries holding him up to make some more demands. This is overheard by Charles, who kinda calls her out for it… suggesting that helping her fellow mutant should be all the reward she needs. He gets it though… because, even he has more demands... ya see, everyone involved in this new better mutant world has gotta do their part, and pull their weight, “pay dues” and what not. He takes the thumbdrive and… uh, sticks it into some Krakoan vegetation?

Next stop, X to the 2nd… Year 100. Annnnnd, looking at this Evangelion-looking thing on this page, I’m already beginning to glaze over. We’re in the midst of a war, it seems… between mutants and something called the Man-Machine Supremacy. This is… gonna be tough… I already don’t care. EVA Unit 1 and an associate who looks like a future Hellfire Club soldier are stood over what I can only assume is a dead mutant… who looks a lot like Elixir from the New X-Men. We found out that Elixir is an Omega Level Mutant last issue… so, maybe he could live 100 years?  I dunno...

It’s a good thing we’re living in the age of the Marvel Wiki! I find out this fella is actually called Percival… and yeah, he dead. We’ve got the remaining three of this foursome of X-Men: Rasputin IV… who I believe is the sword-wielding intangible girl from that first tarot card. Her skin looks metallic, and she’s got the Soul Sword… so, perhaps she’s an amalgamation of Kitty, Colossus, and Magik? We are going to find out that these X-Men were “bred” by Mr. Sinister on Mars… so, it might stand to reason there was some genetic tinkering. There’s Cardinal, who is the red Nightcrawler-looking character from the third tarot card.  Looks to be a blend of Kurt and maybe Rachel? Finally, there’s Cylobel… a machine who joined the mutant resistance, I guess?  She’s got a “black brain” which renders her unreadable. She kind of looks like a female version of the Teen Titans baddie Psimon.

While EVA Unit one and the Future Hellfire Soldier acost Cylobel, Cardinal plants a black seed of Krakoa in the ground. Rasputin unleashes the Soul Sword and attempts to save Cylobel -- unfortunately for her… machines ain’t got no souls. Backup baddies arrive, which makes the odds rather insurmountable for Rasputin. Cylobel demands Rasputin leave her behind and save herself... begrudgingly, she does just that.

We get an info page that is actually helpful in explaining the Sinister Breeding Program “Chimera”. Turns out, I wasn’t too far off in my assumption of Rasputin’s Chimera-makeup... she’s part Kitty and either Colossus or Magik (it just says Rasputin)… but, also Quentin Quire, Unus the Untouchable, and X-23. Now, there are multiple generations of this Breeding dealie… which feels like three too many… because, man, this is a lot of info to dump on us. There’s talk of suicide and singularity… which, I dunno… feels like maybe that Evangelion we just saw wasn’t an accident?  Feels a little End of Evangelion here…

Cylobel is taken to the Tower of Nimrod the Lesser… whiiiiiich looks a whole heckuva lot like the Tower on the Tarot card. Nimrod is seated on a throne looking like a great big marshmallow. Next to him is a woman he refers to as Omega… who might be Karima Whatsherface?  I dunno. Nimrod glibly apologizes to Cylobel… who, was originally a “hound” created to track down mutants, Cylobel defected and went against her programming. Nimrod refers to her as a “bad idea” and suggests that bad ideas die a bad death. Cylobel swears that she’ll win out in the end… which Nimrod finds pretty adorable. He actually says “That’s the spirit!”

Cylobel is prepared for questioning… or a “bath”, I guess. She is going to be dipped into a chamber of something called Femtofluid, where she will basically be rendered down to nothing more than raw data… which Nimrod can use to continue fighting against the mutants. More Evangelion sorta stuff, no?  It’s not quite LCL… but, it’s also not… not LCL! Cylobel is stuffed on in… and, I’m going to assume, dies.

Another info page… this time, it’s for the SalCen Khennil, “Sentinel Mutant Breeding Camps”. It’s here we learn a bit about the black-brained Hounds... the last of which were, for whatever reason, conditioned to be duplicitous?  Seems counter-productive, but what do I know? I guess that’s why Nimrod referred to Cylobel and her ilk as “bad ideas”?

We next pop over to the No-Place Hub… where Rasputin IV and Cardinal emerge from a Krakoan gateway. Does this mean that we’re going to be dealing with Krakoan Gateways forever more in X-Men comics?  I’m not sure how I feel about that. Anyway, they are greeted by… some familiar faces: Magneto, Xorn, Wolverine, and… Swamp Thing?  Maybe it’s Groot?  I hope it’s not Groot. Wolverine asks if Cylobel and Percival died for nothing… to which, Cardinal responds that “they’ve got it”... what “it” is, I dunno. Wolverine tells them that the “Old Man” is waiting… and, it looks like he will be until we get to the next issue…

Another info-page! The mutants are now living on something called Asteroid K… so, maybe Krakoa as an Asteroid? There are only eight of them left here… there are plenty more flung about the Shi’ar Space though.

Now… X to the Third - one-friggin-thousand years later. Ya know, it’s this kinda stuff that keeps me from reading the Legion of Super-Heroes… and these few pages feel like something that could very easily be in a Legion comic! I remember hearing rumors throughout the years that Hickman was going to do Legion for DC… I wonder, if that was true in the slightest, if he repurposed some of his ideas for this? Anyway, it’s here we meet… The Librarian. Hey, that’s the character Marv Wolfman created as a kid, right?  Well, no… this is a blue-skinned Legion reject who is wearing a sort of Cerebro helmet.

Looks like they data they are trying to retrieve is corrupted or just fading away. Worth noting, they’re in the archives of Nimrod the GREATER… so, uh… evolution or somethin’. The Librarian’s little Skeets-lookin' buddy pops in to take the blame for the loss of data… claiming that the integrity of those files was their responsibility. Looks like humanity and the like are no more in this far-flung future… but there is a sort of domed preserve nearby. The Librarian… maybe compares what they keep inside with dinosaur bones… like, as a reminder of what came before?

We wrap up with a look inside… and we see a pair of figures standing in the lush foliage. Now, lemme get lost in the scenery here… is this an Adam and Eve thing? Whoever they are, the Librarian is hopeful they never have dominion over the planet again…

--

I've pretty much stated all my thoughts about the issue during the synopsis, but for whatever's sake, I'll try and sum up my thoughts here:

Not a huge fan of stories taking place too far off from the present day. I feel like we lose touch with a lot of the "rules" of storytelling at that point... insofar as things feeling like they actually matter. If we can write about anywhen... why should we necessarily care about the present? Especially when so many things could be changed without really affecting much. I dunno, I'm sure I could better explain that sensation if I were a better writer. Fact is, I ain't.

Looking back, I'd forgotten that the Moira/Charles mindreading scene took place in this issue... I'd have bet money that it had occurred in House of X #2 -- the first of our big shoe-drop issues... but no! It actually happened here.

Let's briefly chat up some happenings:

In the present, Mystique and Toad arrive back to Krakoa with the data they'd retrieved from Damage Control. This scene is our first indication that Xavier has something Mystique wants... and, how she's going to be repeatedly used as a pawn while he dangles that carrot. Of course, out the other end of the Hickman run, we know what that is -- but, it's neat to see the seeds planted this early on.

The Chimera scenes were... ehh. I know by the end of our time in X-to-the-Second-Power, I do come around on the Chimeras, but -- then and now, this was kinda just there. The designs are pretty cool... and I dig the sassier Nimrod, but it still feels like something's missing. Also, the Evangelion units are a bit too derivative.

X-to-the-Third-Power -- still bores me to tears. This is the high-concept Hickmanny stuff I really couldn't care less about. These are the pages that, had I not been creating content (which, in hindsight probably would'a been for the best), I'd have skimmed or skipped these pages completely. They're dull, but are crammed full with enough impressive sounding words that I'm sure I'm in the minority in thinking this is anything but "genius".

Overall, Powers of X is definitely the lesser miniseries (in my opinion)... but, to get the full-picture of the status quo moving forward, it's still necessary. Maybe not required reading, as I think you could do well enough by just reading HoX... but, like I said - if you're interested in the bigger picture, ya need it.

X-Men (v.2) #2 (1991)

 

X-Men (vol.2) #2 (November, 1991)
"Firestorm!"
By Chris Claremont & Jim Lee
Inks - Scott Williams
Colors - Joe Rosas
Letters - Tom Orzechowski
Edits - Bob Harras
Chief - Tom DeFalco
Cover Price: $1.00

Another day... another dip into the ol' From Claremont to Claremont Archives... strangely enough, folks seem to dig these more than my usual stuff! Maybe it's not so strange after all... who knows? In my six and a half years of doin' this every day, you'd think I'd have figured something out. Oh well.

Here's to happy accidents...

--

We open with Magneto's big ol' head.  He informs the X-Men that the Acolytes have pledged themselves to him, and he does not intend on abandoning them... and he will decide how to deal with their rather extreme actions.  Ya know, like destroying a city and leveling a hospital last issue.  Cyclops realizes that Magneto's so far gone... sort of stuck in his own head at this point, that he cares very little about what happens to "ordinary human beings"... and well, he's right.  Magneto goes so far as to suggest that Genosha had it coming for being "Mutant Slavers" during that whole X-Tinction Agenda thing.

Magneto is attacked by a Genoshan helicopter... that is mostly made of plastic and other non-ferrous materials.  Magneto just shrugs it off... and plays a little "cause and effect" with the whirlybird.  Just because he can't manipulate it, doesn't mean he can't ram big ol' beams of metal through it!

After Magneto deflects another X-Men attack, we shift scenes to meet up with Fabian Cortez.  Psylocke confronts him, but is easily overwhelmed... and smooched upon by the ginger geek.

Meanwhile, at the United Nations... they're still talkin' about the situation.  A man named Alexyev, who looks like a beta-version of Jacob Marlowe from WildC.A.T.S (he's either very short, or the perspective is all sorts of wonky here), chats up Nick Fury about implementing the aforementioned Magneto Protocols.

Back in Genosha, we rejoin Psylocke.  Her mind is bombarded with the thoughts of the nearby citizens (courtesy of Cortez's kiss)... and boy are they hateful toward mutants.  She actually winds up circled by a bunch, and beaten... until Beast hops in to save the day.  Worth noting, Gambit gives Fabes a whack in da noggin with his quarterstaff.

Then... Magneto returns to pontificate s'more.  He tells the X-Men that they should all be fighting for the same cause... and implores them to join up with him.  Same ol', same ol'.

Back at the Xavier School, Forge is making a frantic call to Storm's Gold Strike Force to assist with the events in Genosha.  Banshee is also there, and is wondering just what these Magneto Protocols might include.  Forge is clueless... and, actually so is Professor X!  We learn that Moira MacTaggert bolted out the place when the alarms started to sound, which gives Charles a bit of a pause.

Back to Genosha... where it's more of the same.  Psylocke is able to pierce into Magneto's head with her psychic knife... again, courtesy of Cortez's kiss.  This victory is rather short-lived, however... as it's here that the patron mutant of 90's comics makes his presence felt!  That's right... this is Chrome!  And he, well... coats the good guys in... chrome!  Now they're worth a few bucks more...

Magneto and the gang retreat back to Asteroid M.  Fabian Cortez reveals to Magnus that when he healed him last issue, he noticed a strange anomaly in his DNA.  Some... genetic engineering, if you wee'll.  Magneto has a sneaking suspicion how it might've gotten there... and we'll soon find out ourselves.  Like... really soon.

But first, the Magneto Protocols!  The Soviet's launch a Plasma Cannon into space... and it's headed toward Asteroid M.

Then, back on Earth, Professor Xavier happens across Moira getting sloshed at the Mansion's boathouse.  They chat briefly, before they are joined by the Master of Magnetism, and whisked away Wizard of Oz style... house and all.

While hovering in Orbit, Magneto demands some answers... or at least validation on his hunch.  Turns out, while he was de-aged into infancy, following a weird issue of the Defenders... 

Here's Magneto's recollection of the event...

... Moira took it upon herself to tinker with Baby Mags' genetic code.  He was just an innocent as a babe... and she intended to keep him that way.  After some prodding, Moira comes clean and cops to the deed.  Magneto... isn't pleased.  Though, this is a really interesting way to kind of handwave his babyface turn of the mid-80s.  It's also a pretty great way of bringing him back to the dark side.

While Magneto has Moira "chromed up" for her misdeeds, we take a brief aside to the Sakhalin Islands just East of the Soviet Union and North of Japan.  We join Matsuo Tsurayaba as he takes advantage of last issue's EM Pulse to swipe something called "Omega".  This ain't Weapon Omega who we'll be meeting in this month's issue of Alpha Flight... but someone else, who we'll meet in the flesh and coils in two-months time.

Back on Asteroid M, Cyclops and his Blue Team chat up Professor X... in order to inform him that, get this, they've joined up with Magneto!  C'mon, get with the 90's old man... "Magneto was right" and all that jazz.

Back at the Mansion, word has traveled fast... Storm's Gold Team is running a simulation of them fighting the Blue Team... and, just like in sales and popularity... they get their butts kicked.

We wrap up with the Goldies geting a holographic visit from Nick Fury.  He informs them of the Magneto Protocol being enacted... and warns that, when it hits... da whole thing's gonna go boom.  So, if they wanna save their Blue buds, it's now or never!