The Ascendance of... Baron Mordo!?

 

OR: "Dr. Strange, Hiker of the Mystic Arts"

The thought of Michael Golden handling the artwork for the forty-page What If story featuring Baron Mordo as the Master of the Mystic Arts would be enough to spur even the Dread Dormammu into picking up a copy. Alas, Mr. Golden took care of just the cover art. Still, one look at the exquisite splash page for the issue has one thinking that artists Butch Guice (née Jackson Guice) and Sam Grainger are the next best thing, eh?

Mordo's turn at being the Ancient One's choice to succeed him is an interesting premise to explore, though we don't really need the Watcher to get that ball rolling: Basically, something must happen (or not happen) to prevent Strange from taking Mordo's place as the Ancient One's disciple. But Mordo actually wanting to be worthy of the Ancient One's teachings is a new twist that only Uatu could see coming.

(Of course, if you're under the impression that those tentacles somehow played a part in Mordo becoming the model student, you get a complimentary copy of the Book of the Vishanti! (Not really!) )

From here, things progress for Mordo as they did for Strange--except for writer Peter Gillis feeling the need to plant a seed in our minds that something is up here. (It occurs to me that if Wong distrusts Mordo, surely the Ancient One would still have misgivings, but what do I know.)

Soon enough, Mordo's baptism of fire arrives in the form of Dormammu's intent to invade our dimension. Unlike Strange, however, the shrewd Mordo decides to forcefully secure the aid of another denizen of the Dark Dimension, Clea, in order to enact a plan to free a menace from captivity that even Dormammu must drop everything to defend against.

And what of Strange? He's decided to use his new lease on life to become an instructor at a New York medical school--yet unknown to him, he has also fallen prey to a powerful entity who uses a person's dreams to inflict suffering, a foe he would have battled in our reality as "the Master of Black Magic."

Target: ROSSSS!

 

In just about any comic that featured the incredible Hulk described as going "berserk," that would be no great stretch of the imagination for any Hulk reader, given the character's fits of rage. In addition, since that rage brings about an increase in the Hulk's strength, it doesn't come as a surprise when the level of destruction of a given area (or the punishment of a foe) becomes a scene of carnage and devastation as a result. But when a book such as What If makes such a claim, a series where the worst case scenario often becomes reality (that is, alternate reality), you can almost depend on the likelihood that even for a creature of rage such as the Hulk, things are going to get as bad as bad can get, as the Watcher will attest to in this mid-1984 issue.

Compliments to artist Bill Sienkiewicz (and his letterer) for the story's stunning cover.

Written by Peter Gillis with art by Ron Wilson, this would be the last issue of What If that the Hulk would appear in as its main character, having been featured as such in four prior issues throughout the first volume of the series. Given the Watcher's introduction, it's apparent that whatever change in the Hulk that affects his behavior to such a degree will occur at the point when Bruce Banner first transforms into the man-brute--ergo, it's fair to assume that something about the gamma bomb explosion that irradiates him is different than we remember. And that indeed turns out to be the case, as we join the doctors investigating the level of radiation exposure in not just one patient this time, but two.

In this reality, Banner failed to reach the protective trench with his young charge, Rick Jones, which leads to both of them being exposed to the detonation of the gamma bomb test. And so when Banner experiences his initial transformation that will change his life for the worse, in this reality Rick has an empathic reaction to the changes in Banner's mind as the creature who would become known as the Hulk breaks out of the facility.

All too quickly, just as it happened in our reality, the men under the command of General Ross witness the capabilities of the monster that will be named the Hulk--while our doctors discover a figurative lid being clamped down on the entire developing situation, which will unfortunately prevent their input from reaching those who are most in need of understanding just who and what the Hulk is.

Gillis has brought in Maj. Glenn Talbot--a character who for us didn't join the fold until the Hulk's second act in Tales To Astonish--somewhat earlier than his original appearance, though just as committed to his duty and to Ross.

And so we see the battle lines being drawn by these officers who are now dealing with the threat potential of a powerful, unknown intruder. But with Rick also now having a telepathic connection with the Hulk even from his sickbed, the circumstances here will change dramatically for all concerned--particularly for Ross, who is now on the path to making an enemy obsessed with his destruction, an enemy the likes of which he and the men under his command have never known.

An Eye For An Eyepatch

 

In April of 1987, two months after the second volume of Doctor Strange came to an end, writer Peter Gillis, who had succeeded Roger Stern to script the final eight issues of the series, would continue with the Sorcerer Supreme in a new incarnation of Strange Tales--the book returning to its split format from the Silver Age with its double bill now featuring Strange and the duo of Cloak and Dagger. Published monthly, Gillis would have roughly eleven pages per issue to begin an extended arc for Strange that built on the sorcerer's confrontation of and battle with Urthona, the alien sorcerer who raided Strange's sanctum of its mystic tomes and powerful artifacts (along with capturing the sanctum itself) and attempted to establish himself as our dimension's new supreme mystic. That battle ended at great sacrifice for Strange--watching helplessly as his manservant Wong was horribly mutilated, and then having no recourse but to destroy the book of the Vishanti, the Orb of Agamotto, and other valuable, irreplaceable tools of his trade so as to deny them to Urthona.

The powerful empath, Topaz, is fortunately able to heal Wong's grievous wounds; yet as Strange surmises, the mystic sources of danger to Earth are even now manifesting around the world, while Stephen Strange himself, now bereft of the tools and resources he would normally call upon to confront them, will be forced to make difficult and even unconscionable choices. And to make matters worse, he also suffers from an affliction of the spirit, as Topaz realizes when she urges him to resolve his feelings for his former disciple and love, Clea, whose departure had left him a shattered man.

With the issue "settled" (at least as far as Clea is concerned), Gillis is free to put his story arc in motion, which is already beginning to have an effect on this mystic master who has weathered much heartbreak and inner conflict in a relatively short time. And there is still more to come, when this series introduces a more visible sign of Strange's turmoil.

And so we train our eye on yet another

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Marvel Trivia Question

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How and why did Dr. Strange suffer the loss of an eye?

Defenders To Ashes...

 
Having gained a respite in their conflict with their fellow member, Moondragon, who had given herself over to a demon entity in dragon form and then viciously lashed out at them, things look grim for the new Defenders, who may not be able to save their comrade, or even themselves, if and when she renews her attack. In Part Two of this story, we learned that Moondragon had gone underground half a world away--visibly enraged at her circumstances, having surrendered herself to the Dragon of the Moon and admitted to it (and to herself) her willingness to embrace the evil it represented. There seems little if any redemption to salvage for this woman, who has had a stormy history with those she allied herself with and now has come after the last of those allies with a vengeance.

Back in New Mexico, the Defenders attempt to pull themselves together, their mansion a virtual shambles after the fierce battle while one of their members, the Angel, remains blinded from Moondragon's prior assault--but they have pressed on, reaffirming their commitment to the team even in the face of their past performance which has endangered local communities. In the time since, their newest member, Cloud, has departed, her origin having been solved at last--while the Atlantean warrior named Andromeda has replaced her in their ranks. But now, the arrival of the stranger known as the Interloper heralds danger anew, particularly in light of the appearance of his "disciple"--Manslaughter, a psychotic who very nearly killed all of the Defenders at one time but who seeks to stand with them at this, their darkest hour.

 

Dark Moon Rising

 

In Part One of the PPC's look at the fall from grace of Moondragon --following her attempt to mentally take control of a world's population as a stepping stone toward establishing her twisted view of peace and order across the universe--we saw her subsequently receive the judgment of Odin in the form of a headband which would act to curtail the misuse of her mental powers and hopefully instill in her a degree of humility. But while that eventually met with success during Moondragon's installment as a member of the New Defenders, we also learned of a hindrance to her continued desire to turn over a new leaf when new details of her origin revealed the presence of a malevolent dragon-entity attempting to coerce her into accepting its influence and power.

Moondragon's inner battle with the dragon, and with herself, reached a tipping point when a conflict with Asgardian trolls finally led to Moondragon acting to better herself in terms of her goals and choices, an epiphany which also resulted in her debilitating headband falling to the ground, powerless. At that point, Moondragon made the decision to remain with the Defenders, while enjoying a new bond of friendship with her teammates. Yet the dark entity which had beckoned her has not retreated, but merely waits--and with her power no longer being dampened by the headband, the Dragon of the Moon continues to view this mortal vessel as not only the key to its freedom, but a source of power to add to its own and thereby make use of her to impose its own will.

The Path To Enlightenment

 

Before the conclusion of the 1985-86 Secret Wars II series which saw the presumed end of the Beyonder, "the One From Beyond," would go through a bout of depression where he believed finding his path to enlightenment was a hopeless cause, a state of mind which cause him to turn to the bottle to drown his sorrows. It stands to reason that for someone who can erase the entire universe with a simple flick of his finger, the thought of such a person being in a drunken, depressed state is enough to terrify even the staunchest among us--while some might also find it equally disturbing to discover that when the Beyonder has the presence of mind to seek out Dr. Strange, the one person he believes might bring him clarity of thought and a sense of purpose (as well as someone who knows firsthand the futility of alcohol abuse), the mystic master not being at home is horrendously bad timing.

Granted, one such as the Beyonder could summon Strange to his side with a casual thought; instead, in his inebriated state, he simply brushes aside the defenses of Strange's sanctum and makes use of the Orb of Agamotto to locate Strange wherever he happens to be--in this case, the Dark Dimension, where he had joined his ex-lover and disciple, Clea, to bring an end to the tyrannical rule of Umar and Orini, her parents. The experience of using the Orb, however, has caused even such as the Beyonder to flee the premises--but Strange, startled at suddenly seeing the eyes of an unknown, powerful being gazing at him through the dimensions, pursues the wisp of a trail he's been able to salvage, and is astonished at discovering where that trail leads.

Obviously the nuances and powers of sorcery which Strange has spent time studying and mastering mean next to nothing to the Beyonder, who needs neither knowledge of nor commitment to the mystic arts to bend them to his will (though it seems even he can be surprised by their hidden depths)--yet the Beyonder is desperately in need of the enlightenment and knowledge of self which he believes Strange possesses. But will one as impatient and volatile as the Beyonder consent to take the committed and dedicated path to achieve those things--or turn on the one who cannot or will not instantly bring him the peace and happiness he craves?

Dr. Strange--Disciple Of Evil!

Other than on rare occasion, you wouldn't be likely to encounter circumstances where Stephen Strange would find cause to clash with the Ancient One, the wise sorcerer who turned his life around and took him on as his disciple in the practicing of the mystic arts. Once Strange decided to abandon his arrogance and selfishness as a high-priced surgeon and open his mind to the teachings of his new mentor, he'd found a calling that offered direction and purpose, as well as a new regard for his fellow man whom he had once held in such disdain--and his devotion to the Ancient One, based in both gratitude and respect, was beyond reproach.

Yet if one were to select a point when Strange might have chosen the more expedient path to achieving all he wanted, it might have been at the time when this man was the most vulnerable--seeking out the Ancient One in the snowy mountains of Tibet, driven by the slim hope that the mystic would be able to restore his injured hands so that he could return to his medical career in America and the lifestyle to which he'd become accustomed. In our reality, the Ancient One was able to wait out his visitor's impatience and skepticism until Strange's more noble instincts finally surfaced; but a late 1979 story by Peter Gillis explores the possibility of Strange's baser instincts being exploited, instead, with the Ancient One paying the price.

And under the circumstances, the fellow pictured in the background has good reason to gloat.

This Cave... My Tomb!

In the fall of 1984, Marvel's first volume of What If stories would come to an end after what could be seen as a successful 7½-year run of forty-seven double-sized issues, each published bi-monthly*. For Marvel to have expended the resources and the time to publish what was essentially the equivalent of six annuals per year, it stands to reason that What If must have been turning in quite a profit (in contrast to, for example, Silver Surfer, which ceased its double-sized format after just seven issues)--nor did its bi-monthly schedule appear to be a hindrance to its sales, since each story was a one-shot and no single concept needed to be promoted on a timely basis (unless you count its main theme of providing alternate outcomes to previous Marvel stories).

*For the most part. On occasion, you would see a brief shift to monthly publication, usually in response to what had been a three-month lag between issues.

There came a time, however, when even a two-month window (still considered a "back-breaking" schedule, according to Editor Ralph Macchio) wasn't enough for staff to throw together a story and line up a writer/artist team to produce it. And so the dreaded letters page box (appropriately tinged in pink) that heralds a book's end appeared in the series' final issue to deliver the sad news--though this time with a twist, as Macchio explains:

Basically, What If would take on the status of work by writers or other artists who aren't necessarily bound by a publishing or record company to submit X number of books or albums within a specific period of time--the important difference, of course, being that those products remain in circulation well after the initial release and aren't quickly relegated to back-issue outlets which funnel no profits back to the source company. For this new distribution of What If to be literally worth the wait, Marvel would have to release a much larger amount of issue copies when the time came and gamble that most if not all of them would sell--quite a leap to take for a product that will be even less visible in stores from this point on.

As it happened, whatever "unbelievable things" Macchio had planned for the book failed to materialize, as did the book itself. What If wouldn't be seen in stores again until five years later when the series re-launched, this time with a lower page count and a monthly schedule, eventually finishing with a run of just short of nine years and totaling 114 issues--perhaps as good an indication as any that no buyer really expects a masterpiece or perfection, and that only an eye-catching concept and a (hopefully) well-told, well-rendered story are essentials to a comics reader.

As for its final tale in '84, we have the eye-catching concept in the form of a cover by Bill Sienkiewicz, and, depending on how you felt about Loki as a motivating factor in getting you to hand over a dollar of your hard-earned cash, a title that implied that the story of Thor would end in tragedy or worse before it could even begin.

No Ringers... No Cheaters... No (Proficient) Women

No doubt the Bar With No Name has gained a reputation in criminal circles for being a watering hole where super-villains can hang out with each other, swap war stories, and toss back a few without being hounded by the law, a fight breaking out, or being attacked. (Though there have been exceptions.) But a more exclusive gathering has built its own reputation over time for providing super-heroes with some down time, while offering them the opportunity to take their fellow guests to the cleaners--a night of business and relaxation hosted by one of the Fantastic Four, who is as serious about cards as he is about giving a villain a one-way ticket to the slammer.

So if you get the word that there's a game going down tonight, be ready to have a seat and ante up, because you've been invited to

By the time you and I are given the privilege to be bystanders at this game, it's evident that they've been held for awhile, though it's not really clear if Mr. Grimm was the chief organizer of these get-togethers. But given how much he looks forward to taking the pot being in attendance, it wouldn't be surprising if he had been their instigator--particularly since, if memory serves, the first one takes place in his own team-up mag, Marvel Two-In-One.

Of course, being stopped at the starting gate doesn't put him in the best of moods.

The Country That Captain America Built

"Never underestimate the power of advertising." -- Jordan Dixon, alias the Viper

Having recently taken a look at one possible future for the X-Men--and for the world--which occurred as a result of misguided individuals attempting to protect those they felt were threatened by outside forces, it seems appropriate to pivot to a story by Peter Gillis and Sal Buscema which focuses instead on Captain America, an individual one would seldom if ever describe as misguided, and certainly not threatening (well, if we're being honest about it...) -- that is, if we were talking about the Captain America who ended up in a block of ice and was tossed by the Sub-Mariner into the ocean, to be later found and revived by the Avengers. But this story puts an interesting twist on the story of another Captain America--the one who surfaced during the 1950s, whose developing psychotic nature eventually twisted his values and forced the government to capture him and place him in cryogenic hibernation (along with his own "Bucky") until a cure could be found for his instability. Revived in 1972 by a disgruntled worker dissatisfied with the state of the country, "Cap" and his partner once more proved to be out of control--finally coming into conflict with the original Cap (and his partner, the Falcon), who ended their threat.

In Gillis's story, however, Namor never arrives at the site of the frozen "idol" being worshipped by Eskimos, who instead end up transporting it with them on their long migrations--and so the Avengers never encounter the floating, famous figure from history. Eventually, lacking a central unifying spirit, the Avengers members decide to suspend their activities and take a hiatus in order to tend to their personal affairs.  But our disgruntled worker is still around, and still unhappy with Nixon's overtures toward China--and, again, he knows just who to turn to.

Of course there is no current-day Captain America in action for these two to target--but left to their own devices, do you have the impression things are going to turn out any better for them this time?

By Crom, it's sword vs. shield--in 1984!?

And then there was the time when Captain America battled the leader of the Barbarians, a new street gang in New York.

You might know the fellow as Conan the Barbarian.

(Brought to you by Peter Gillis and Bob Hall.)

Just A Boy Named Joey

In July of 1966, Stan Lee, working off a plot by artist Steve Ditko, scripted a story of a "regular Joe," as it were--specifically, Joe Smith, who perhaps became the mold for stories that put the problems and concerns of average characters in the spotlight while the issue's title character(s) orbited around them ("Skip" Collins being one example). Joe's story would be appropriately told in a comic where its title character's popularity relied in large part on the fact that he had to constantly deal with the burden of everyday problems, even though he was a hero of great power and, yes, carried great responsibility.

Joe's story begins in a neighborhood gym, where he pursues his dream of being a champion boxer and finally succeeds in pestering convincing one of the fight managers on the premises, Tommy Tomkins, to book a match for him. But, lacking the killer instinct of a ring boxer, Joe washes out as a fighter, and, subsequently, as a wrestler, before Tomkins switches gears for him and lands Joe a job as an extra in a television film. The part is basically for a costumed alien with no dialog who goes on a rampage, which Joe accepts mostly out of appreciation for Tomkins' efforts on his part--but he soon finds his hard luck extends to the stage, though the production's director is pleased under the circumstances.

Unfortunately, the accident has had an effect on Joe, on both a physical and psychological level--with all of the mocking he endured from other fighters at the gym fueling a rage that definitely wasn't part of his script.

And when that rage breaks out to the streets, Joe comes into conflict with Spider-Man, who soon realizes this is no ordinary unhinged fighter he faces. But he learns little else, thanks to Joe's anger reaching a point where he lets his actions speak for him.

Before Spider-Man can return to the scene, Tomkins locates Joe and gets him to safety, just as his head is beginning to throw off the effects of the chemical-electric shock that hit him. It's clear that Tomkins has become sympathetic to the loser status and bad breaks that seem to hang around Joe like an albatross; but his advice to rest is later ignored when Joe begins to re-exhibit the symptoms of the accident while again raving about being a failure. And he decides to take that rage and his returned strength back to the source of his anguish--the fighters at the gym who continually rode him about what a poor excuse for a boxer he made.

Needless to say, Joe's gym "buddies" have a true fight on their hands when Joe lays into them. To make matters worse, Spider-Man arrives, but with a price on his head (thanks to Norman Osborn) which has everyone in the gym joining Joe to put him down. Eventually, Spidey handles the opposition long enough to focus on Joe (you can see Ditko's panels of the brawl in a previous post), just as Joe's head clears once more--apparently for good this time.

It was quite a happy ending for Joe. Or so it seemed.

Which brings us to the streets of New York once more, years later, as a member of the city's Board of Education runs for his life, but cannot outdistance the one who pursues him--a murderous attacker who looks hauntingly familiar to us.

Who Was My Killer??

As disappointing as it was as a comics reader to run into an inventory story that put the brakes on a major story arc and ended up making the inventory story itself the fall guy, in retrospect it's interesting to go back and take a look at some of those stories in a different light and perhaps see how well they stand on their own. After all, such an issue was crafted as any other--only in reading it as a one-shot, you're not grumbling about a hiccup in the story you were expecting and/or the jolt of suddenly seeing a different artist's work on the character(s).

In that sense, this 1978 issue of Captain America grabs you from the start--with a striking cover by Mike Zeck that (regrettably) steals the thunder from his splash page.

In a tale by writer Peter Gillis--reportedly his first published comics work--there's a mystery element to this issue right away, since it isn't every new Cap story that starts with the title character being found floating face-up in the Hudson River--but you haven't seen the half of it. We of course don't know who or what did this to Cap, though it seems reasonably clear that the intent was to kill him; but fortunately, our two Bronx joggers who fish him out discover that he's just barely alive and lug him back to their apartment (apparently there are no ERs in the Bronx), where Cap awakens and finds that the mystery of what happened to him has only become more maddening.