Finders, Keepers

 

Slipping by the wave of issues which were branded with the Assistant Editors' Month stamp in January of 1984 was the 1983 X-Men Annual #7 (which also happened to slip by the PPC's roundup of 1983 annuals in the fall of '22). Written by Chris Claremont with art by Michael Golden (with an assist by Bret Blevins) along with inkers galore, the story makes a fine addition to the who's-running-the-asylum theme of the other AEM books whose editors were attending the San Diego Comic Con, leaving their underlings free to publish their own stories in their own way. Unfortunately for them, they become collateral damage as they're swept up with others in the X-Men's pursuit of a powerful "foe" who is engaged in a series of thefts for reasons unknown.

As we can see, however, the jig is up almost immediately, since it appears that no one thought to advise cover artist John Romita Jr. not to spill the beans on the identity of the perpetrator first thing. (Also, Mr. Romita, Cyclops doesn't appear in this story at all, but Professor X certainly does. Those asst. editors pranked you but good, didn't they?) But mum's the word, since everyone else in the issue will remain in the dark for the duration of this crazy roller coaster ride we're about to embark on.

Taking a leaf from Asst. Editor Eliot Brown, whose clever title/credits page appears at the very end of the story (which coincides with his detonation of same), we're placing it instead alongside the issue's cover, just to give you a taste of the ride you're in for in this forty-page tale. Because while the X-Men treat this "threat" with all due seriousness, you can bet that with the Impossible Man at the center of it all, the situation has the potential of spiraling beyond the control of anyone and everyone involved.

The Erstwhile Marvel Man

 

During the early 1990s, there were a number of stories in The Avengers which featured the man we eventually came to know as Quasar, who as Wendell Vaughn actually dates back to the late '70s but who had gone through a refit or two by the time he joined the Assemblers. I was admittedly on auto-pilot when reading the book during that period--its 300th issue having not quite capped a sudden spiral downward in quality and direction following the departure of writer Roger Stern, while its story, despite its forced appearance of affirmation, conveyed an impression of the book and its team as being rudderless. And so I could be forgiven for accepting Quasar in the Avengers lineup at face value, as new Avengers stories from that point on were rifled through fairly quickly, rather than being read with interest and anticipation on my part. (Remember the times when we were eager to sit down with a new comics story?)

That being the case, it's not surprising that I've found myself going over in my mind Quasar's beginnings as the informal successor (if that's even the right word) to Marvel Boy, and wondering: When exactly did this man join the Avengers? Yet as we'll see, "joined" may be a misnomer in the sense of how we've come to regard new members being inducted into and being presented as part of the Avengers lineup.

Earth's Mightiest Strike Team

 

It's been over twenty years since Marvel launched its new line of books based on familiar Marvel characters but whose lives and origins were recycled to exist in another universe--an effort spearheaded by the 2000 series Ultimate Spider-Man and the 2001 title Ultimate X-Men, before finally getting the Avengers on board as The Ultimates in 2002. It was a more piecemeal approach than was taken with the new universe titles (eight new books, all released as full-fledged series during October-November of 1986)--yet while that collection of titles had other things working against them (e.g., the exclusion of any other Marvel super-beings), the underlying concept of Marvel launching a sub-universe of comics titles within their long-standing Marvel Comics line was essentially the same, the difference being that the Ultimate books consisted of characters already familiar to readers for the most part.

There's no doubt that The Ultimates takes a more hawkish approach to a government-backed team concept than The Avengers, whose own government ties weren't disclosed until much later in the book's run. Described as a super-human defense initiative, the Ultimates operate under the umbrella of S.H.I.E.L.D.* and work in tandem with the division's forces as well as federal troops--while Tony Stark, happy to lend his expertise to the effort as long as he benefits financially and in a public relations capacity (or so he tells inquiring minds), also brings his new Iron Man armor to the party. Everyone is there to follow orders and go into missions by the numbers, with the Ultimates benefiting from support crews and armed forces backup.

*Taking a leaf from the "Heroes Reborn" reboot of The Avengers, which by contrast saw Fury and the team having a bumpier road in their working relationship and eventually leading to the Avengers declaring their independence.

And so with that in mind, what compels those on this team who bear the same names but have lives very different from their counterparts in the Avengers--Henry Pym, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Janet Pym, et al.--to sign on the dotted line of this "task force" we'll come to know as the Ultimates? The double-page cover to its first issue accords this very different group of charter members all due grandeur--but have they a mission statement beyond their patriotic duty, or are they essentially soldiers on call?

"Doom Must Fall!"

 

At long last, it's a pleasure for me to revisit an issue of Nick Fury Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had first caught my eye in an old house ad (most likely a reprint issue from the early 1970s) but had regrettably been long gone from the stands well after its 1968 release. (Those of you in the UK perhaps found it reprinted in the 1977 Captain Britain publication, issues 38-39.) What helped to embed the issue in my mind was of course its stunning cover by Jim Steranko.

I was reminded of this issue thanks to an upcoming PPC post regarding the final issue of Ka-Zar The Savage--specifically, its homage cover by artist Paul Neary, where our Lord of the Savage Land is doing his best to fill the boots of Nick Fury:

"Collectors' Item Last Issue!" The 34th issue of a cancelled title isn't likely to be something a reader would covet, gentlemen.

Steranko's cover is for the most part symbolic of the crisis in the issue's story, with the exception that within the pages Fury doesn't suit up for a mission in outer space (though not for lack of trying, as we'll see); and yet, taking into account the fact that Steranko had just departed the book as its writer/artist with the prior issue, he might well have had the entire cover scenario in mind for this issue had he continued. It's an eye-catching image that I would have liked to have seen to completion.

Yet the plot we have is from Roy Thomas, with the story scripted by Archie Goodwin. And the essential gist of Steranko's cover layout would appear to be intact when the crisis presents itself:

Big John Meets S.H.I.E.L.D.!

 

While artist John Buscema had done work for Atlas Comics in the late 1950s, it was only after the pivot to super-hero books by its successor, Marvel Comics, that we were treated to his initial work for the company in that genre in November of 1966.  Published that month was his first Incredible Hulk work with inkers John Tartaglione and Mickey Demeo in Tales To Astonish--while over in Strange Tales, he turned in pencils over Jack Kirby's layouts for a Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.! tale which sees signs of the return of Hydra just ten issues after SHIELD supposedly put an end to the organization for good.

With all respect to SHIELD and Mr. Kirby, this test amounts to (as Fury would say) some of the most lamebrained science this side of a Grade B sci-fi flick, with half the budget. Why risk the head of SHIELD--or the life of anyone--on this stunt? Unless this "Overkill horn" actually needs a human being to emit the sound it needs to unleash its sonic beam, why wouldn't something as simple as an air horn from any football game (or its SHIELD equivalent) fit the bill? And if a human was needed, couldn't a recording by Fury (or anyone), triggered from a control booth, suffice?

Nevertheless, the test is successful--though the fact that the Overkill horn works as designed is disturbing in itself, since its success all but confirms the existence of the device in someone else's hands.

"The Woman Who Never Was!"

 

Having collected and read the entirety of the Marvel Team-Up title from the '70s, I suppose I feel as qualified as anyone to say that, in terms of hit and miss, its stories generally tipped into the latter category for me while they shoe-horned Spider-Man, the standard bearer of the book, into a meeting/partnership with a different character each month. That said, there were a number of gems that were quite readable, some of which even stood out as page turners--in fact, you and I would probably be able to compile a "top 10" list of stories if we put our minds to it. (A potentially interesting topic for a future post, I dare say.)

In your own listing, I hope you make room for a four-part story from 1979 by Chris Claremont and Sal Buscema which, like other MTU multi-parters, drew in more than one guest-star to heighten the story's development and ramp up interest, which had the added benefit of spicing up the cover masthead with the naming of a new player with each installment. In its opening pages, things start off with an attempted mugging of a lady who seems out of sorts in her life, an attempt foiled by Spider-Man--but when the wall-crawler literally slips up and leaves himself open for certain death, our damsel in distress proves to be far more than the confused and helpless person we first laid eyes on.

Obviously distraught, the woman who by all appearances is the Black Widow gains the sympathy of Spider-Man, who makes allowances for the possibility he could be wrong about her and tries to help her collect herself. In the process, he learns her name and her occupation--but for himself, and the woman who calls herself "Nancy Rushman," the mystery of her identity only deepens with unsubstantiated assertions which call her story into question.

Since Spider-Man has noticed that the Widow's costume is insulated*, he suggests she put it on (with hopes that it might jog her memory). Yet Nancy's calm insistence of her own identity only raises doubts with the reader (which makes sense at this early stage of the story) that, despite appearances, she is the former Russian spy we and Spider-Man recognize.

*Something Spider-Man might consider for his own costume--how does he bear the frigid winds of winter while web-swinging through the city at such high altitudes?

Resigned to pick up the pieces of her life, Nancy prepares to change back into her clothes and part company with Spider-Man. Which is when all hell breaks loose, and a thus far unassuming story explodes into new, violent territory.

The Ties That Bind!

 

Can YOU

Name This Marvel Villain??

A Riotous Roundup of Enormous and Explicit Exclamations!

 

As many of us who grew up reading classic Marvel comics can attest, not only did comic books immerse us in a world of heroes and action-adventure, but we impressionable readers were also finding our minds stimulated in other ways as writers took the opportunity to slip in words and terms which had the curious among us reaching for our dictionaries. And so as a homage to those whose choice of words both intrigued and educated young minds, the PPC has gathered a few scenes from the past where language reigned supreme, and thereby lit the spark of interest and creativity in others.

(A few sparks were flying in that paragraph alone!)

No doubt some of you have your own examples of weighty words which had you flipping the pages of your Webster's as a kid, so I hope you'll chime in with your own. As for myself, here are some instances which came to mind--starting with one which seemed to be all over the place, and often applied to a certain green goliath (or those he battled).

behemoth - a huge or monstrous creature
buh·HE·muhth

To this day I still find myself sometimes mentally pronouncing this as a two-syllable word (BEE-moth), when in fact it's pronounced with three, with the accent on the second. Interestingly enough, I have never had occasion to use this word in a sentence--but to see it bandied about in print, you'd think it was common usage. (We should all probably count our blessings that we never found ourselves in situations where the word behemoth was being applied.)

Many red-blooded males surely thought of a few words to describe the vivacious Mary Jane Watson, but I can almost guarantee that one word brought to life by Stan Lee never occurred to us, even though it's completely applicable in MJ's case:

pulchritudinous - beautiful
puhl·kruh·TOO·duh·nuhs

Wow, Mr. Lee--with such a vocabulary to draw on while introducing yourself to a beautiful woman, your dating life must have resembled something out of "The Grapes Of Wrath."

Thanks to Lee and others, the esteemed villain Dr. Doom also provided more than a few ten-dollar words in his path toward domination:

atavism - a reversion to something ancient or ancestral (i.e., a throwback)
AT·uh·vi·zm

misanthrope - a person who dislikes humankind and avoids human society
MIH·suhn·throwp

escutcheon - a shield or emblem bearing a coat of arms
uh·SKUH·chn

Granted, all of Doom's references apply to the Thing in one way or another, but Lee coming up with a "blot on the escutcheon of humanity" feels like it deserves some sort of commendation for the effort.

When it comes to villains, of course, the Mandarin isn't about to be left out of this lineup:

munificent - larger or more generous than is usual or necessary
myoo·NIH·fuh·snt

Another word had the distinction of being exclaimed by villains and aliens alike (that is to say, alien villains):

poltroon or recreant - an utter coward
paal·TROON, REH·kree·uhnt

As Doom demonstrates, it looks like you can use the word "coward" even in instances where it doesn't appear to apply. (Well, at least Doom can, and I'm not about to call him on it.) As for the Super-Skrull, he's really piling it on, using three words which essentially mean the same thing--where any of us who called someone a "cowardly coward!" would look like we were at a loss for words.

The Skrulls are particularly adept at hurling epithets when they're furious--and being Skrulls, it's good to be reminded that they're not restricted to using our pitiful vocabulary when they have their own insulting terms for their foes, or their subordinates.

poxy concorth - EARTH TRANSLATION UNAVAILABLE
pronunciation unavailable

The pursuer in question does indeed catch up with the Skrull ship--which means that our unfortunate helmsman had a thousand agonies to look forward to after their mission, which didn't even go all that well for them.

Speaking of someone being at a loss for words, such a phrase might be difficult to apply to Hank McCoy, the Beast, an X-Man who can inject his own verbiage at the drop of a hat (or a threat).

efficacious - effective
eh·fuh·KĀ·shuhs

perspicacity - having a ready insight into things
pur·spuh·KĂ·suh·tee

sagacious - showing keen mental discernment and good judgment
suh·GĀ·shuhs

prodigious - remarkably or impressively great in extent, size, or degree
pruh·DIH·juhs

capricious - given to sudden and unaccountable changes of mood or behavior
kuh·PRIH·shuhs

propitious - favorable
pro·PIH·shuhs

Cut from the same cloth would be our plucky agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Jasper Sitwell, who tended to try the patience of Tony Stark but proved his worth on many an occasion.

vituperation - bitter and abusive language
vuh·too·per·A·shn

You said a mouthful, security officer. (No small feat in this crowd.)

Even our vice-president from 1972, Spiro Agnew, had a tendency to inject a few lengthy words into his comments, which daunted even his Commander-In-Chief:

But the hands-down head-scratcher award for the most unlikely word to pass one's lips goes to Roy Thomas, who took a five-syllable, ungainly word and dispensed it among a number of characters.  Decades later, it also happens to show up in an announcement celebrating Stan The Man's 95th birthday.

brobdingnagian - gigantic
braab·ding·NĂ·ge·uhn

Which concludes this not so brobdingnagian sampling of vociferous mouthings that brought new perspective to our heroes and villains and gave our brain cells a pretty decent workout while enjoying their stories.

The Spy Who Overtaxed Me

 

When Strange Tales ended its run in May of 1968, it served as a springboard which launched each of its two principal characters--Doctor Strange and Nick Fury--into their own titles the following month. Doctor Strange would continue the former book's numbering and begin with issue #169--while the new Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. book would start off with issue #1. Prior to then, Jim Steranko had shepherded the SHIELD segment of Strange Tales successfully for fifteen issues, and it seemed that Marvel had struck gold with Steranko and his interpretation of the man who had been appointed as head of SHIELD. Who better, then, to spearhead Fury's new solo espionage series?

And yet the celebration of a new SHIELD series with Steranko at the helm was short-lived. As before, Steranko was working on a title being published monthly--but where Strange Tales offered a comfortable 11-12 pages for the writer/artist to produce, as he did for over a year, Steranko now found himself on the hook for twenty pages of story per month--inevitably running into deadline pressures as early as issue #4, when a story by Roy Thomas and artist Frank Springer was substituted and which retold Fury's installment as head of SHIELD and covered the events from Strange Tales #135 in more detail. Issue #5 subsequently turned out to be Steranko's final work on the series (though he would turn in cover art for issues 6-7), after which Springer would return as artist and several scripters would try their hand on the book.

But Steranko's early work for the series was nevertheless something to behold.  It was here he would introduce the character of Scorpio, who would later turn up as a member of the Zodiac crime cartel but who flies solo in this series and whose true identity will elude Fury until Steranko's departure. Until then, Scorpio would relentlessly pursue bringing about the death of Fury--beginning with an elaborate scheme that would use the resources of SHIELD itself, a scheme that would backfire thanks to the tenacity of its intended victim.

The battle between the two see-saws back and forth--but just as Fury seems poised to learn Scorpio's identity, a twist to this tale reaches its climax that first allows the villain to escape, only to then bring about his apparent death.

Yet Scorpio returns in Steranko's final issue, as Fury pursues a lead from SHIELD's telepathic operatives and he's forced into evading a series of attacks launched by the key of the Zodiac, which ultimately hem in on him and culiminate in his capture.

Scorpio's scheme this time is to cast a mask that allows him to impersonate Fury within SHIELD, and then arrange for Fury himself to replace a Life Model Decoy unit scheduled to be tested in a deadly chamber of fatal traps--nor do Fury's fellow agents realize the LMD is their leader, given that the face is masked (then pull it back, Fury--even I knew that!) and they're aware that the unit was programmed with Fury's own reactions and reflexes. Clearly Scorpio has an axe to grind with Fury that involves stress and suffering rather than killing the man when he was unconscious and helpless.

Yet, again, Steranko provides twists to this story that involve more than Fury and Scorpio--and eventually, circumstances result in Fury's pursuit of his foe, the man's literal unmasking, and another apparent end to the villain.

Scorpio would resurface (heh, get it?) in Avengers #72, where Fury has faked his own death (thanks to an attack by Bullseye) in order to infiltrate Zodiac as (you guessed it) Scorpio. Once the dust settles on the defeated cartel, and the Avengers learn that Fury is alive, the mystery of Scorpio's identity is at last revealed by Thomas, as Fury recounts what he'd learned in that last chase in which he saw Scorpio alive.

In closing the circle, Thomas also pays a bit of homage to Steranko's dramatic splash pages from issues 1 and 5 of Nick Fury, Agent of Shield, though Thomas's effort is somewhat disappointing in that it boils down to a play on words which takes its material from the lead-in to a joke.

Gerry Conway would also contribute his two cents in a Defenders story where Scorpio is out to create his own members of Zodiac, but sticks to Steranko's general theme for the splash page's wording:

Before Steranko would bring Scorpio back for his curtain call, he would provide us with some unorthodox Fury stories which featured the return of Jimmy Woo in his first appearance as a SHIELD agent, followed by a 1930s scientist bent on wiping out mankind--as well as a mystery which plays off Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Hound of the Baskervilles"* (with an evil Nazi plot twist):

*Which, granted, strays from the "Agent of SHIELD" espionage angle a reader might have been expecting from this title.
 

Once Steranko departs the series, he leaves behind two covers for the stories which follow--one of which won the 1968 Alley Award for Best Cover.

Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD would last for 18 issues, the final six shifted to a bi-monthly schedule. Springer returned to the series for six issues post-Steranko, followed by an appearance by Barry Smith, with Herb Trimpe pencilling the next three. But the book effectively ceased publication with issue 15, at which time it began featuring only reprinted stories from Strange Tales Nick Fury segments until the plug was finally pulled. Oddly enough, even then Marvel was promoting the book with new cover art, recycling Strange Tales for all it was worth.

(To which Nick Fury might have replied, "Nuts!")