MYTHCOMICS: THE INCAL (1980-88)

 

“What piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world. The paragon of animals. And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” -- HAMLET, Act 2, Scene 2.

"So much beauty in the center of a world full of garbage."-- Deepo, THE INCAL, Book 3.

THE INCAL, written by Alejandro Jodorowsky and rendered by Jean "Moebius" Giraud, was serialized from 1980 to 1988 in METAL HURLANT magazine, and to date it remains both a popular and critically-celebrated franchise. Yet, for all the phantasmagorical content put forth by Jodorowsky and Moebius, the six volumes present a knotty problem. The rambling storyline is replete with all sorts of symbolism involving the Tarot, the four elements, and a dichotomous object that seems to be the son of the creator-god. Yet Jodorowsky seems inordinately preoccupied with the narrative role occupied by viewpoint character John DiFool, who's as far as one can get from god or angel, but seems to fit the status of "quintessence of dust" pretty well. Thus, with apologies to Milton, I boil down the master trope of THE INCAL to Jodorowsky "justifying the ways of dust to gods and angels."

  Jodorowsky introduced John DiFool, resident of your basic space-opera Earth, the way many PIs are introduced in 20th-century detective fiction. The hero starts out pursuing some mundane or even sordid job and rapidly gets mixed up in matters far beyond his usual experience. A crucial difference, though, is that though a Philip Marlowe usually proves equal to any task that challenges him, John DiFool mostly survives by dumb luck. And where Marlowe possesses a charm for the fair sex, DiFool is purposely given a homely face, so that any women who cross his path are drawn less to his looks than to things like money or power.

  As DiFool narrates to an attentive prostitute, he acquired a strange glowing triangle-- later dubbed "The Luminous Incal"-- from an alien, and no sooner does he return to his apartment than other ferocious beings come looking for his prize. (His pet bird Deepo is probably a callback to the white winged mount who appeared in Moebius' ARZACH stories.) DiFool conceals the Incal by swallowing it, though in the beginning he's motivated only the possibility of profit. 

  

Soon DiFool learns he's out of his league when he's taken prisoner by Earth's utterly corrupt Prezident, but the power of the Incal saves him, as well as conferring the power of speech upon Deepo. On the downside, The Incal starts talking as well, and it drafts the unwilling detective into a quest to find its other half, The Black Incal, in the forbidden realm of Technocity. There it just so happens that the Techno Priest cult has tapped the negative energies of the Black Incal to create a universe-ending threat, "Shadow Eggs," which will unleash a "Great Darkness" that Jodorowsky never explains.

Meanwhile, a professional assassin, the Metabaron, is forced to track down DiFool and his metaphysical companion by Tanatah, who kidnaps the Metabaron's adopted son Solune (Sol + Lune) in order to force the assassin to do her will. It's no coincidence that the tough-as-nails Metabaron fits the standard hero-archetype far more than does John DiFool.

DiFool does acquire the Black Incal, but he gives it away to a beautiful woman riding a giant rat after she kills a Technopriest menacing the detective. Calling herself Animah, she leaves DiFool behind, so that he and Deepo are taken prisoner by the Metabaron. The assassin tries to get back his son from Tanatah, but she takes the Luminous Incal from DiFool and prepares to kill all her prisoners. However, the forces of the Prezident attack Tanatah's stronghold. She makes common cause with her enemies and they hightail it.

Tanatah reveals that she and Animah are both sisters and former guardians of the two Incals, but Tanatah gave the Black Incal to the Technopriests for some vague reason. Since Animah has the Luminous Incal now, Tanatah decides they must all joorney to the center of the planet, an immense garbage dump where Animah and her giant rats live. (Incidentally, Animah is Solune's mother but hls father's identity will be revealed later.) One of the Prezident's murder-machines follows the fugitives to the garbage-world but DiFool and Animah unite the power of the two Incals and destroy the craft.

  

The seven companions journey to the plane of some metaphysical guardians called "Arhats" (a Buddhist term for a seeker who has achieved nirvana). The Arhats in turn convey the travelers to "the heart of the interior sun," where all seven are transfigured, and Solune in particular assumes a half-light, half-dark ritual. It's during this ritual, designed to unite the two Incals, that Animah drops a bomb: that she masqueraded as a prostitute to gather DiFool's seed. because his genetic material was the only one that could birth a unique child such as Solune-- who, BTW, becomes a disembodied intelligence. However, now that the Incals have merged, DiFool becomes peevish at having been used as everyone's pawn.

Now, at this point a lot of space-opera writers would concentrate on the surviving menace of the Shadow Eggs and the Great Darkness they represent. Suffice to say that Jodorowsky and Moebius go off on a lot of tangents not germane to the main plot (particularly various "bread and circuses" satires that become tiresome after a while). The next *consequential* subplot involves DiFool having to spread his unique genetic material into an alien queen, Barbariah. who makes herself look like Animah. The upshot of this subplot is that the detective sires a planet of people who look like him.

Skipping over lots of beautifully rendered filler material, Solune finally confronts the Darkness, whatever it is, and destroys its medium, though not its power. Solune determines that the Darkness can be banished if all humans in the universe participate in a shared "theta dream," which among other things forces DiFool to seek out the world of humanoids he sired on Barbariah. Once all the humans are dreaming in concert, the seven companions must channel the theta energy against the Darkness-- and their efforts cause all but DiFool to sacrifice their lives.      

      

After all these wonder-working tropes, almost the only thing Jodorowsky didn't do was to have his reluctant hero meet God-- so he does. Creator-god Orh informs DiFool that he uses his only begotten son, The Incal, to bring forth "the seed of the new creation." As for DiFool, he's not yet elevated enough to join any new orders, so back he goes to the point where his story began-- taking a big fall that may lead to death, or to enlightenment.

But even if one could not read of DiFool's fate in the sequel FINAL INCAL, most readers would find it unlikely that the recalcitrant reprobate would ever sing any cosmic kumbayas. Clearly Jodorowsky wanted DiFool to represent the unrefined nature of humankind-- though he's certainly far from the only inhabitant of his far-future world who's moved only by egotism and concupiscence. Yet Jodorowsky also imbues the detective with some strange genetic vigor, making him, the arrant fool, the only person who can give birth to Solune, who's something of a humanized Incal, making the Fool the father of the Savior. Despite the suggestions of the her's special destiny, overall there's a strain of Hamlet-esque pessimism in THE INCAL. Jodorowsky may have meant to suggest that for all the metaphysical beauties human beings can conjure forth, they remain composed of dust, and all their infinite faculties will not keep them from returning to dust.          

  

MYTHCOMICS: "THE CAVE OF THE BANSHEES" (AIRBOY COMICS #90, 1953)

 I doubt the writers and artists knew in advance that AIRBOY #90 was fated to be the last issue of the series, a ten-year-old survivor of the WWII superhero boom. Still, the final HEAP story does provide a better-than-average wrap-up for the wandering muck-monster. Various earlier stories had attempted to infuse the horror-themed creature with a dollop of high fantasy, like linking the Heap to Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. But though I have not read the entire run of the Golden Age Heap, I doubt any other stories did better than CAVE OF THE BANSHEES in terms of mythicity.

The previous HEAP story had "nature's powerful messenger of right" (see above caption) in Germany, the native land of the late air ace who became transformed into a swamp-creature. Neither artist Ernie Schroeder nor the unbilled writer provide the least rationale as to why the near-mindless monster winds up on the Irish seacoast, watching as a young woman is apparently being carried away to some dire fate. The splash alone suggested to me the Irish idea of the mythical Pookah:

If a human is enticed onto a púca's back, it has been known to give them a wild ride; however, unlike a kelpie, which will take its rider and dive into the nearest stream or lake to drown and devour them, the púca will do its rider no real harm

Following the splash, the story juxtaposes rich Irish against poor Irish, and both in terms of beautiful women: the Countess, who owns and races horses, and Moira Shea, who's been made poor by her uncle making bad bets on horse-races. The two women don't speak but each sees the other in negative terms: Moira as a "witch," the Countess as "something evil."

Moira at least has a specific reason to fear the foreign woman's presence, for her boyfriend Tim seems smitten with the Countess. However, the same uncle who ruined their family financially has one prize for Moira's dowry: the untamed white stallion Killarney King. Motivated less by money than by the desire to show up the Countess, Moira tames the King.

   However, the Heap stumbles across Moira taking the King out for a canter, and the horse panics, plunging into a nearby bog. But bogs are no challenge to the superhuman swamp monster, who carries stallion and rider to safety. 

Possibly the Heap has his own "heap-o-trouble" sense, for on the same day, he meanders over to the estate of the Countess. A jealous trainer almost gets Tim killed by provoking the black stallion "Satan," but the Heap saves Tim. From Moira's POV, this is doubly good because the Countess believes the trainer's lies and sacks Tim, thus getting Tim away from the Countess' beauty.

   

To be sure, the Countess never shows any romantic interest in Tim. However, when the noblewoman gets a look at Killarney King racing along the meadows, she covets the stallion, realizing that the King is faster than Satan, her best horse. She doesn't exactly tell her corrupt trainer to set up a booby trap for the horse, but the guy does so anyway. (This also seems counter-intuitive, since a trap might injure the horse, so probably the writer just introduced the gimmick to set up the trainer's death.) In any case, the Countess makes a bet with Moira. When Moira can't pay the entry fee, the Countess pays it, against the promise that Moira will surrender the King if the King loses the race. Up to this point, the rich beauty hasn't done anything villainous-- but then she cheats during the race, setting her, not Moira, up for the dire fate seen in the splash panel.

So we're at the last page, meaning that the writer has scant time to show us what he meant by the "cave of the banshees," mentioned only in the opening caption-- and then, that's even after getting rid of the trainer by having him trampled to death by the very steed he tormented earlier. Fortunately, even in 1950s America, the association of the banshees with death-spirits was pretty solid (even before the DARBY O'GILL film). Satan the stallion, panicked by the trap, serves the function of a pookah, plunging with his rider into the legendary cave-- and only the Heap bears witness when the "haggard broken horse" emerges from the cave without his rider.       

MYTHCOMICS: MONSTER MARRIAGE SHOP (2021-2023)

 I said at the end of HARUM SCARUM that I'd be analyzing a harem comedy that didn't conform to the predominant pattern of the subgenre. MONSTER MARRIAGE SHOP does include a male protagonist surrounded by comely females. many occupying the same domicile, but all the females are yokai, "monsters," after the fashion of the still-ongoing 2012 manga MONSTER MUSUME. Like the influential LOVE HINA, SHOP telegraphs the inevitability of a particular "till death do us part" joining of the male lead with one of the resident females, though SHOP concludes within a mere twenty episodes. I've read enough translated manga that I feel I have the sense of what it looks like when a given manga has been structured for a long run, only to be wrapped up arbitrarily when some editor/publisher cancels the feature. I can't prove SHOP was not subjected to some similar circumstances. But to me it seems that female mangaka Kaworu Watashiya arranged everything in SHOP to come to an ending that she executes to deliver her specific take on the harem comedy-- one in which the "harem" functions a lot like a feminine support group.

At roughly age 9 male lead Yuto Nikao loses his father (about whom the reader never learns anything). At the funeral, his mother Mrs. Nikao (no first name given) comments that at least she still has her only child Yuto to console her-- except that in the wings a half dozen guys are waiting to date a hot widow. Throughout Yuto's adolescence his mother seeks to find a new father for Yuto, but she has terrible judgment, resulting in a stream of users and losers. Freud theorized that every male child would be conflicted once he was old enough to perceive Mommy having relations with Daddy. But though Yuto never thinks he ought to be the man in his mother's life a la Norman Bates, hearing Mommy Nikao have sex with assorted men has a bad effect on his male ego. Freud assumed that the Oedipal male would resolve his mother-complex indirectly, by seeking a mate reminiscent of his mother. Adult Yuto's solution to his complex takes a new wrinkle: he becomes a "marriage advisor," whose mission in life is to do well what his mother did poorly, facilitating good marriages. However, he also declines to seek a mate for himself, deeming himself an incurable "mama's boy" devoted to niche pornography.              

Then one night Yuto gets off his bus in the wrong place, wanders into a forest, and meets his leading lady, werewolf-girl Ururu di Bianca. She guides him into her hidden "monster town," where every resident is a yokai of some sort. Yuto takes his discovery in stride, and perhaps because nothing but his job defines the young fellow, he starts giving the relatively civilized monsters matrimonial advice.

 This state of affairs irritates the love-god Cupid (apparently all sorts of myth-beings occupy Monster Town). Feeling like Yuto's infringing on his territory, Cupid shoots Ururu with a love-arrow. Ururu comes close to de-virginating Yuto, but she's interrupted by a bevy of monster-girls who want the human's marital counsels. Yuto shakes off his near-rape and decides to open a matchmaking service in Yokai-ville. He doesn't realize, despite many subsequent hints, that Ururu has fallen in love with him now, so she and other monster girls start aiding Yuto in his new business.

I won't spend much time on the ancillary monster-girls. Watashiya seems to be following the example of MONSTER MUSUME, but with an important difference. Though two or three of the other beast-babes-- a succubus, a vampire, etc.-- seem inclined to sex up the human, none are really "into" him as Ururu is. Most of the time, the monster girls just hang around the agency waiting to see what happens, alternating between bonding and sniping at each other-- hence, my "support group" characterization. Almost none of them or the short-term customers actually get married, because in Monster Town, Yuto has to overcome his "mama's boy" fixation, and that means that his deflection into work must be invalidated. Not too many of the individual monster-girl stories are symbolically complex, except as they bear on breaking down Yuto's defenses. 

Not until Episode 14 does Watashiya introduce a ticking clock: Yuto's situation loosely parallels that of folklore-hero Urashima Taro, who was (according to the author) unable to leave Fairyland until he had sex-- which is. of course, what Yuto's been avoiding in the real world, to maintain his connection to the mother he still loves. 

Meisa the Gorgon, the intellectual of the group, expands on Yuto's psychology with the concept of the "frog prince syndrome." Frog princes, rather than importuning princesses for kisses, are deeply conscious of being undesirable. Thus their poor self-image justifies pushing away anyone trying to get close.  

Harnis the Succubus comes up with her own theory of building up Yuto: enter his dreams and have dream-sex with him. However, the attempt triggers Yuto's defenses: even in his mind, Yuto thinks his mother is always watching. Yet at the same time, he resents his mother's control and transforms into a gorilla flinging poo at Mom.

Harnis, perceiving that Yuto has shifted his fixation to Ururu, convinces the dreamer to summon the wolf-girl. But here too the punishing mother intrudes, and Yuto conjures up a lupine dominatrix.       

However, Yuto's dream may have some effect in the human world, for no sooner has Yuto awakened and dressed than a giant version of Mommy Nikao intrudes on Monster Town and snatches up Yuto like he's Fay Wray. The monster-girls theorize that the giant is a psychic projection of the human Mrs. Nikao, and if so, this is the only time the character appears in the narrative's "real time." Both Yuto and Ururu try to reason with the giant, but when Mrs. Nikao tries to eliminate the competition, the monster-girls take her down, though Yuto shows his respect to the "mother" before she vanishes.

With the vanquishing of "Queen Kong," Yuto can at last express his feeling for Ururu-- and though she knows he may disappear, she can't stop herself from "wolfing out" and having sex with him-- though this time, he doesn't want abuse but trusts her not to harm him. Yuto does return to the human world, but with a twist: he, unlike Urashima Taro, returns to a time slightly before he departed. So now he has the chance to return to normal life, so will he do so?

Of course not: within one day he's back in the forest, looking for Monster Town. And though he finds his Fairyland, it's a reversal on the trope of the human who returns to a future-world that's forgotten him. This time. the denizens of Fairyland forget that their human visitor ever existed, even though Ururu (possibly) carries his seed. And this comprises Yuto's last hurdle: the guy who had no confidence in himself must tell all the monsters who've forgot him that he knows them all inside-out. And to judge from the last pages, Yuto succeeds in making his lupine lady love him again. The reader doesn't know how much time has passed: only that Camilla the Vampire and a wolf-boy are regarding a bridal picture of Yuto and Ururu, and speaking of Yuto in the past tense. It's a bittersweet touch to the overall happy ending, implying that a mortal can't endure in Yokai-ville as if he was one of them. But if Yuto pays a penalty for love, most readers would consider that a better fate than expiating his trauma in a devotion to the happiness of strangers.     

MYTHCOMICS: THE RECKONING WAR (FF: RECKONING WAR ALPHA, FF VOL. 6, #40-46)

 

Following the respective departures of first Jack Kirby and then Stan Lee from the FANTASTIC FOUR title, almost every later raconteur said something or other about how the starring characters needed special treatment because they were a "family," as opposed to super-groups that functioned like loose affiliations of super-policemen. But saying this doesn't mean anything if a creator doesn't have any insight into what sort of conflicts and tensions are unique to families. 

FANTASTIC FOUR certainly wasn't the first adventure-series organized around a familial matrix. In the Silver Age of Comics, there had been two notable predecessors, and both of them-- DC's TIME MASTER and SEA DEVILS-- came closer than the oft-mentioned CHALLENGERS OF THE UNKNOWN to the makeup of the FF: smart leader, strong sidekick, leader's girlfriend, girlfriend's kid brother. Stan Lee or Jack Kirby may have seen one or both DC-features and subconsciously imitated the template of the character-types. But they added elements one would never find in those strictly juvenile DC titles. Maybe their success stemmed, as some have argued, from combining Lee's penchant for soap-operatic drama with Kirby's passion for sci-fi tropes. But whatever "origin story" fans might choose to write about the creative success of FANTASTIC FOUR, Lee and Kirby arguably produced the first adventure-series built around a family where the female characters had some agency opposed to the will of the males. In fact, I see in the Lee-Kirby oeuvre a gender-dynamic reminiscent of what little we know about the sex-roles of primeval families, which coalesced around the female's need to "nest" and the male's need to "hunt."

In juvenile sci-fi comics, "hunting" doesn't connote tracking down savage beasts. Rather, it means that the heroes are always seeking the next adventure to please a dominantly male audience. When a familial ensemble included girls/women, the females' function was often to worry about how the group could possibly overcome the Peril of the Polka-Dot Gorilla. Alternately, the girl might be a tomboy who was as enthusiastic as the guys at seeking the next adventure and so didn't challenge the male priorities, like the girl-member of SEA DEVILS. Family conflicts showed up in crime melodramas or even in teen humor titles, but not appreciably in adventure-comics.

 Yet almost from the start, FANTASTIC FOUR showed the tense dynamic of a family cooped up in the same "nest," often depicting Reed and Sue playing "mommy and daddy" to a fractious couple of "siblings." Sue Storm, though, not only fretted when the Thing and Torch quarreled, but apparently considered at one point chucking the "den mother" gig for a seat on the throne of Atlantis.

I don't want to suggest that Stan and Jack were more than loosely aware of the molds they were breaking. Clearly, they were mostly flying by the seats of their respective pantalones. But over time, many of the latter-day raconteurs on the FANTASTIC FOUR gave such matters as "female vs. male" agency a lot of thought-- and that brings me to Dan Slott. In tandem with assorted collaborators, Slott's run on the FF title-- from issues #1-46 (2018-2022) -- has done the most to logically extend What Stan and Jack Wrought, at least in terms of gender-dynamics, culminating in the arc called "The Reckoning War."

There's a lot of backstory stuff Slott works into "War" that one has to track down in other features. An advance ad for the arc claimed that WAR was "fifteen years in the making." Well, what that really meant was that Dan Slott introduced the idea of the war back in a 2005 issue of his SHE-HULK run and then sat on the idea for fifteen years, possibly with the hope of being able to develop his concept in a plum series like FANTASTIC FOUR. I don't say this in disparagement. I like the fact that Slott's FF run culminates in the ambitious Reckoning project. (There's some romance-stuff between She-Hulk and Jack of Hearts that also comes from the SHE-HULK title, but I found it easy to roll with.) But Slott's main foundation for his new epic was in a 1964 story told by Stan Lee and Larry Leiber, the origin of The Watcher from TALES OF SUSPENSE #53.

                         

Of course this simple cautionary tale about the perils of arming rude savages had to get a more "cosmic" treatment by Slott, which is more or less what fans expect these days from FANTASTIC FOUR and similar Marvel titles. In the new narrative, the benighted Prosilicans don't just get atomic power, but some Watcher super-technology that dwarfs anything that even the most advanced Marvel-aliens can come up with. 

The Prosilicans launch a war of dominion, and when their opponents retaliate, nine-tenths of the then-known universe is destroyed. Only the power of the Watchers can preserve what's left, by sealing the corrupted parts of the universe into a veritable "outer darkness" called The Barrens. So in this iteration, the Watchers swear their oath of non-interference not because they harmed one world with their act of Promethean generosity, but because the entire universe was almost expunged. But millions of years later, the Watchers' original hubris will come back to bite the universe in the ass again.

       

One Prosilican, name of Lord Wrath, apparently survives all those millennia in the Barrens and finally decides to annihilate the protected one-tenth of the cosmos the Watchers saved. He rustles up three henchmen, similarly immortal Prosilicans who also sport super-powers and the euphonious names of Ruin, Rapture, and Reject. Together they are "the Reckoning," and they start disseminating Watcher-tech throughout the galaxies to foment in what might be called (after David Brin) "Negative Uplift."

Everywhere various alien empires go to war, and of course one group of aliens just has to hassle Earth, home of the Fantastic Four and that premiere alien-fighter, Reed Richards. First Reed gathers intelligence from She-Hulk, who informs him of her experiences with various time-guardians and the Reckoning prophecy. Then the FF stumbles across Nick Fury, who became an aide to Uatu the Watcher in a very involved subplot. Uatu is out of the picture for a bit, but Fury brings a gift to the party; a device with which super-genius Reed can perform a "Positive Uplift" on himself. Or maybe it's not so positive, according to worried Mrs. Richards (and anyone who ever saw FORBIDDEN PLANET).

On the plus side, with this intelligence-boost, Reed instantly figures out that all the galactic brush-wars are "smokescreens" for Lord Wrath's real purpose: to get hold of a handy reality-nexus with which to end reality. On the minus side, Super-Big Brain becomes so clinical that he disregards Johnny Storm's plea to cure his affliction (yet another earlier subplot) -- and that's just for starters. Both the Torch and the Invisible Woman pursue other avenues against Wrath, and so do independent actors like Doc Doom and The Silver Surfer. But following a foray against Wrath's henchmen, Reed does something to his old friend Ben that makes turning him into a rock-monster look like small potatoes.

  

Even Reed using a coma-gun to shut down his son's mind (way back in FF volume one, #141) can't equal this act of cold-blooded intellectual hubris. Reed deceives his best friend Ben Grimm into thinking that his wife and his kids have been destroyed, just to snap the big guy out of a tendency to get freaked out in combat with Rapture, For Reasons. The "fake death" sequence is not strictly necessary for the plot, so Slott may be saying that even a well-intentioned desire for boundless knowledge-- in other words, endless "hunting"-- holds peril for the "nest" of the family.    

 In other news, the Silver Surfer brings Galactus back from the dead (I didn't even know he was sick), and the Watcher tries to persuade his fellows to go to war against the Reckoning. The other Watchers respond by putting Uatu in a chair and making him read old WHAT IF comics. Not really, they're not that inhuman. Uatu is just forced to watch so many scenarios of alternate realities that they jumble his ability to know right from wrong. Fury and the Invisible Woman liberate Uatu, and for good measure, they all learn that the narrative about how the Barrens were created is not accurate, and that there was a Watcher-thumb on the scales.

The Richards and the Grimm kids don't get a whole lot to do in most issues, but they do manage to neutralize one of the henchmen. When Reed and Sue are finally reunited, Sue rightfully busts Reed's chops for his manipulations and secret-keeping, and in contrast to most of the Lee-Kirby oeuvre, the excuse of saving the universe doesn't quite suffice.

  

And now it's time for the big showdown: Thing vs. warrior-bitch Rapture, while everyone else piles on Wrath. And it's a big confession time for Reed too, as he admits that all the knowledge he's gained from the Watcher-uplift means nothing next to all the little things of their relationship. Then Reed faces off against Wrath with the Ultimate Nullifier, which should kill both of them.

 But after all this heavy stuff, it's time for a little eucatastrophe. Reed learns one thing he didn't know: using the Watcher-made Nullifier kills the Watcher who uses it, and that has the effect of removing the Watcher-boost from Reed's brain. The Surfer shows up with the revivified Galactus and they save the universe from destruction. And Uatu goes from being one of a race of godlike aliens to being the Only God in Town, able to repair all the problems and to change the Barrens into the Borderlands, "a canvas of infinite possibilities." (Uatu does miss the little detail of curing the Torch's flame-problems, but Slott had to leave something for #46, the wrap-up issue.) 

  The last Slott issue has nothing to do with the Reckoning War, but, but it does sum up the FF's family dynamic. In this finale, Mister Fantastic reaches out to a sister he never knew, as well as introducing her to two other half-siblings, all creations of their mutual and utterly irresponsible paternal unit. Yes, there's a minor kerfuffle with Psycho-Man. But this time the "nesting" takes precedence over the "hunting," and I have to tip my hat to Dan Slott for "reckoning" the best way to resolve the tensions between action-adventure and family drama.