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And here’s our closing shot: Serpentor, COBRA’s new genetically engineered “Emperor,” muttering under his breath about the stupidity of the cannon fodder.
When I reread this comic the other night for the first time in 20-odd years, I was struck by how much happens in it. It’s certainly paced much faster than the comics I read now (Hawkeye, Saga, Fatale), which focus much more carefully on characterization and mood, reflecting their generally PG-13-to-R intentions.
This comic was all, all about plot (and shilling for toys), as the workmanlike art suggests. So the super-weird bits, like the stuff about the bad guys all drinking grape sodas or the little moppet with the .357 magnum — none of which would seem as noteworthy in something Matt Fraction wrote, though I expect he would address the moral repercussions of a gun-wielding-child, where Hama treats it as all very matter-of-fact — probably stand out more here.
Comics would become an obsession of mine for about five solid years after this. They’d remain an interest after my full-on mania circa 1988-91 receded, on account of factors that included a rapid expansion of my interest in movies, music, and women. But also the abysmal quality of most 90s comics.