DC Versus Marvel Omnibus Pt. 6: Batman/Punisher: Lake of Fire #1

While none of the prose pieces in the DC Versus Marvel Omnibus answer the question of why, exactly, the two publishers stopped collaborating on crossover comics after 1982's Marvel and DC Present Featuring the Uncanny X-Men and the New Teen Titans #1, a new piece by editor Mike Carlin explains why they eventually resumed a decade and change later.

Carlin's essay notes that several editors and writers had moved from Marvel Comics to DC Comics, including himself, Archie Goodwin, Denny O'Neil, Louise Simonson and Roger Stern, a fact that diminished the sense of "Us Vs. Them" that had previously existed between the publishers.

Additionally, this generation of editors and creators were, unlike those that preceded them, genuine fans of the superhero characters they had grown up reading about, and thus approached something like, say, the possibility of Batman and Spider-Man teaming up for the first time with the same sort of enthusiasm their readers might, rather than simply as a money-making venture.

What Carlin doesn't explain, however, is why in the world DC and Marvel finally resumed with this particular crossover, 1994's Batman/Punisher: Lake of Fire. It is here that while reading the collection I really started to miss all of those introductions and forewords from earlier in the book, those original to the omnibus and those reprinted from 1991's Crossover Classics, which shared a great deal of behind-the-scenes information and provided a sense of what the publishers were thinking with particular character pairings. 

Of course, both Batman and The Punisher were popular characters. The former perennially so, and the latter was, at that point, not too far removed from the zenith of his popularity, I believe.

Both were urban, street-level vigilantes whose focus was often fighting real-world crime, but they had vastly different, opposing philosophies on how to do so. Batman refused to ever take a life, a position he held to such a zealous extreme that he would often risk his own life to save that of unrepentant murderers like The Joker, who he knew would certainly go on to kill again and again. The Punisher happily, regularly took the lives of the criminals he faced, racking up a body count that could probably eclipse that of any mass murderer, The Joker included (At this point in the character's history, though, Marvel was playing the Punisher as a hero, if a deadly one, and not the unrepentant psychopath that 21st century writers like Garth Ennis would depict him as).

The catch with this particular crossover, however, is that The Punisher wouldn't be meeting the "real" Batman at all, but the temporary replacement Batman, Jean-Paul Valley, the Batman ally codenamed Azrael who would go on to assume the mantle of the bat during the 1993-1994 trilogy of Batman events, Knightfall, Knightquest and KnightsEnd. (As for Bruce Wayne, he was busy elsewhere; after Bane broke his back in the climax of Knightfall, he was relegated to a wheelchair but nevertheless pursued the kidnappers of his girlfriend at the time, Dr. Shondra Kinsolving.)

It's not entirely clear to me why Marvel Comics would necessarily want a crossover with the substitute Batman rather than the real deal or, you know, any other DC character at all, but then, this was long before I paid attention to things like sales charts, so I couldn't even guess how popular the "AzBats" Batman was at the time, and if the Punisher crossover sold well or not. (Ask Mike Sterling, maybe.)

It is clear reading this in this collection and then, immediately afterwards, reading its same-year sequel Punisher/Batman: Deadly Knights, that the publishers must have planned both comics around the same time, always intending to follow up the Punisher's meeting with the Jean-Paul Valley Batman with another story in which he met the Bruce Wayne Batman (despite the fact that the books have two entirely different creative teams).

Rather late in the game of Lake of Fire, The Joker appears, coming to the aid of Punisher villain Jigsaw (Who, as far as I can tell, was, like, the only Punisher villain, given Frank Castle's habit of executing his foes).  The Joker is only in five panels of the entire book, presumably because he was being teased for a lengthier, more substantial role in the sequel. 

Though Lake of Fire was the first of what would end up being about a dozen such DC/Marvel crossovers in the next half dozen years or so, it doesn't read as too terribly special a book. It's only 48 pages long, the shortest DC/Marvel crossover to date, and thus lacks the larger scope and more epic feel of the original round of inter-company crossovers. 

It's also somewhat confined in focus, mostly just featuring the two title characters, and not doing much of the way in terms of exploring their home cities, supporting casts, interior lives or even their differing crime-fighting philosophies (Although it's worth noting, I suppose, that this more violent, more brutal version of Batman isn't quite as opposite the Punisher that the Bruce Wayne Batman is; while Jean-Paul Valley and Frank Castle find themselves coming to blows by the end of their team-up, Valley is far more sympathetic to Castle than Wayne would have been).

As for the creators, the publishers chose writer Denny O'Neil and artists Barry Kitson and James Pascoe.

O'Neil was obviously a solid choice, having worked extensively as both a writer and editor for both companies. He had written both Batman and Punisher before and was, at the time of this book's publication, the editor of DC's Batman line. In fact, he had created the Jean-Paul Valley character (with artist Joe Quesada in 1992's Batman: Sword of Azrael) and obviously had a great deal of affection for him, going on to pen a 100-issue run on an Azrael solo title after the KnightsEnd conclusion. 

Kitson had likewise drawn for both publishers at that point in his career but wasn't particularly associated with either character (O'Neil must have thought the two worked well together, though, as Kitson would go on to draw a large chunk of that Azrael series). 

Though I appreciate Kitson's talents and have read and enjoyed some of his later work, I can't say I was particularly dazzled with his work here. The book opens with a two-page spread set in hell, as it was being dreamed by Valley, who was raised and hypnotically programmed by the crypto-Christian cult the Order of St. Dumas (When he eventually starts to lose it in the Batman storyline, a process that seems well underway by the time this crossover is set during, he increasingly has visions of St. Dumas.)

"Draw hell" seems like a great, compelling prompt for an artist to get, affording them a chance to really go to town, but Kitson's splash is a let-down. His hell is cavernous, with seemingly naturally occurring pillars holding a roof aloft, while untold numbers of suffering humans fill the infinite space. But Kitson only draws about 15 of the people, including a busty lady in a torn dress reaching up and screaming and a muscular, pupil-less bald man reaching out and doing...something to another pair of figures, the rest of the horde simply suggested by a brown mass filling most of the cave, little circles here and there intimating heads. 

As far as comic book depictions of hell goes, it looks uninspired and, given the page real estate afforded the image, lazy. The book is not off to a great start.

Valley awakes from his dream, having fallen asleep in the Batcave, wearing his particularly uncomfortable-looking version of the Batsuit. He tells readers that the computers have intercepted and decoded a message from the Pentagon about a formula for rocket fuel that was stolen by an associate of a known Gotham criminal named Bressi. He dons his helmet and rushes into action. 

Meanwhile, a big man in a big overcoat is narrating in PG comic book tough guy language: "Few places are worse than New York. Gotham City is one. I'm here because it's where the trail of a mook named Jigsaw took me...It's cruddy. That's okay. I'm used to crud."

This is, of course, The Punisher, who gets in a barfight looking for information on Jigsaw and ends up getting a lead pointing him to a church downtown. The lead, coincidentally, comes from the guy who has the rocket fuel plans ("You seem real interested in what's in this case. Papers...maybe I'll like 'em as much as you").

Meanwhile Jigsaw, who Kitson draws as a particularly big guy with a face like a quilt and a big, metal neck brace of some kind, explains his plans for the readers' benefit: The new rocket fuel has the ability to ignite water, and Jigsaw plans to use it on the city reservoir and then charge the city an astronomical fee to repair the damages and, I don't know, restore the reservoir somehow...?

The sub-title of the book thus has a double meaning, referring both metaphorically to hell and literally to what Jigsaw plans to do to Gotham's water supply. 

The church lead turns out to be a trap, and The Punisher is splashed with drugged holy water and the building is set on fire. The new Batman comes to the rescue, bursting through a stained-glass window, and getting The Punisher to safety.

After introductions, and The Punisher convincing Batman that he needs him to track down Jigsaw ("I know Jigsaw...How he lives, thinks...breathes."), and some threats (Batman: "We are allies until Bressi is caught. Then— You become prey." Punisher: "Well...Somebody does."), they climb into the Batmobile and drive to a steam bath full of Russian criminal types in towels for a fight scene.

The Punisher manages to slip away from Batman, and they continue their investigation separately. In the end, The Punisher throws Jigsaw out of a window, and Batman is swinging by just in time to catch the villain, who he leaves tied up (For, it turns out, The Joker to discover and free). 

Then it's time for the big fight, which I guess O'Neil makes feel somewhat unexpected by placing it after the cooperation portion of the team-up. It only lasts three pages before The Punisher finally pulls a gun and puts a couple of bullets into Batman's armored chest. That doesn't stop the new Dark Knight either, so The Punisher pulls a gas grenade from Batman's utility belt and detonates it in his face, allowing him to retreat, but not before offering the defeated Batman rather lame goodbye: "Hey, man...I cheated, okay?"

And that concludes the first DC/Marvel team-up in many years...although, as I said earlier, it wasn't exactly the end of Batman/Punisher story. The two would crossover again almost immediately, but next time it would be Bruce Wayne in the cape and cowl.

Next: 1994's Punisher/Batman: Deadly Knights

Review: The Order #1-#10

I was pretty thrilled to find all ten issues of the short-lived, 2007 Marvel series The Order in a fifty-cent bin the other day, as the trade collection of this Internet-beloved, market-rejected Matt Fraction/Barry Kitson series has long been on my To Buy, Someday list (Also in that bin? The first two issues of DC Universe: Legacies and issues #1 and #3 of Siege, two title I passed on due to their ridiculously high cover prices, but I perhaps foolishly passed ‘em up since the weren’t complete runs. That was one fine fifty cent-bin though.)

The above panel is from the second issue of the series, in which the two leaders of the new Marvel super-team seek to engage a publicist, and she rather prophetically explains why this title wouldn’t be long for the world.

Prior to reading, I knew two things about the book.

First, that it was originally announced as The Champions, reviving the team-name of Marvel’s previous left coast super-team, but that name had to be changed when Heroic Publishing claimed that violated their trademark on the name. Marvel settled on The Order, a revival of the name of a Defenders off-shoot team but it was an exceptionally poor choice, having ominous, negative connotations that were the opposite of those evoked by “The Champions.” (In retrospect, they probably should have went with West Coast Avengers, or even Defenders).

And second, it was prematurely canceled, leading to a lot of teeth-gnashing and/or clucking about how unreceptive the current market is when it comes to new characters and concepts.

Having now read the book, I was a bit surprised at just how new it really was. It spun out of Mark Millar, Steve McNiven and company’s massively popular Civil War series, having gotten a brief conceptual cameo there. Part of Tony “Iron Man” Stark and his allies’ list of ways to improve the world, The Champions/Order team was to be one of the fifty Fifty-Stat Initiative Avengers teams, this one filled out by artificially-created super-teams given names, powers and roles based on the idea of the mythical Olympian pantheon (An aside: In other words, Millar’s big idea here was to have another writer base a series around something Grant Morrison once referred to an a Newsarama interview about how he decided on the line-up for his JLA run…?).

The fact that this book spins out of that scene in Civil War, some occasionally guest-spots by Tony Stark, and old Iron Man supporting character Pepper Potts on the team is the extent of the Marvel Universe buttressing the book had (And, oddly, the whole Greek god thing is referenced in the first issue, and then completely ignored: None of the heroes have code names, costumes and, in most cases, powers derived from Olympian inspiration).

Perhaps that ended up being a factor in The Order’s quick cancellation, but the fact that Fraction and Kitson came up with so many brand-new characters and tried to give a new book a go with them is in itself rather admirable. New-ness is, or course, relative, and as superheroes, these characters aren’t the most original lot, as a glance at the cover there will attest: Giant robot guy, Superman analogue, Flash-powered guy who looks like he’s wearing Gravity’s costume, a blonde in a belly shirt with a frighteningly elongated torso a la DC’s 2005 version of Supergirl, etc.

The codenames all sounded mostly like they could have been members of an early nineties Image Comics team that appeared in a series that only had one issue—Heavy, Anthem, Pierce, Maul, Calamity, Mulholland Black (sounds like Manchester Black). The costumes are, individually, quite uninspired and seemingly cut from the same cloth as way too many of the post-Ultimates superhero costumes have been (although Kitson or whoever was responsible did a pretty neat job of trying to make them look like team uniforms through colors and logos without actually making them uniform) and, for the most part, the powers are overly familiar and easily assigned as inspired by those of previous superheroes.

As individual superheroes then, this is a pretty lame collection, and it’s hard to imagine most of them carrying a book of their own.

That is, of course, completely beside the point though, since they don’t have to carry a book of their own; they were created to be a team in a team book, and it’s therefore more important how they function as pieces of a whole rather than as individuals.

And while the superhero personas of the various characters are mostly derivative and uninteresting, the characters themselves are all pretty interesting, Fraction have invested a lot of work into making well-rounded characters with big, exciting, diverse backgrounds chockfull of potential future sub-plots to be explored (Of course, given that most of them barely get introduced before the story and the title ends, it almost seems like an unfortunate waste that Fraction did give so many characters so much personality).

The way Fraction reveals theses characters is clever; “clever” meaning perhaps “cutesy” or perhaps “smart,” depending on how generous you’re feeling or, perhaps, what kind of mood you’re in when you’re reading the comics. I read them all in two big chunks, so it didn’t strike me as tiresome—perhaps it would have if I was reading it one issue a month over the course of the better part of a year though.

Each issue is structured to open and close with a different character talking directly to the reader or a camera, reality show “confessional” style, while an unseen, off-panel interviewer asks them questions. Long, horizontal “widescreen” panels offering silent images to back up or contradict the characters’ dialogue appear at regular intervals during pauses in the conversations. It’s an awful lot of telling rather than showing, but there’s enough showing thrown in that it reads like a subversive form of info-dumping.

This is only one part of the strict format structuring in the series; after these introductions, each issue also features a trio of related quotes to set the mood or reflect the action (A note on my personal preferences: I’m not a fan of quotes in comics), similar lay-outs for each issue, and rather intriguing last pages, with several small panels of conversation rather than the typical, Geoff Johns-style “Oh shit!” splash-image cliffhanger.

Overall, I rather liked it.

The benefit of an all-original, no-name cast like this is a lot of the rules readers come to expect in their super-comics don’t apply, and thus everything is much more suspenseful. If Batman’s caught in a death trap, no reader worries that he might get killed off and, in the rare instances in which he actually might die, the reader can rest assured the death is temporary. Is there sexual tension between Aquaman and Wonder Woman in an issue of JLA? Maybe, but they’re probably not going to ever hook up, get married or have any kids or anything. Dick Grayson’s not going to betray Batman. The Punisher’s not going to quit shooting dudes to retire and open a bakery.

But with a bunch of characters who have only existed a month or so, and who were created specifically created to put through this particular melodrama/action wringer? Anything goes yo.

As I said, Fraction has created some extremely interesting characters (for super-comics), and he manages to instill each issue with the perfect balance of a zaniness, real-world relevance and character-danger that seems realistic for the Marvel Universe as we’ve come to know it. In one issue the team might fight for their lives against zombie hobos (“Zobos,”) but they also have to deal with zoning issues, city and national politics and inter-personal conflicts.

Ten issues isn’t very many issues, but it seems awfully respectable in retrospect, as more recent Marvel series haven’t lasted that long, despite the benefit of longer-lived characters more ingrained in the Marvel Universe (Aside form the Iron Man cameos, Namor is the biggest-name guest-star, and he appears in a single issue).

Captain Britain and MI-13 lasted 15 issues, but it had some name recognition and some characters people had actually heard of before. The last stab at Exiles lasted six issues; they just canceled the latest attempt at an Agents of Atlas series at, what, five issues? Doctor Voodoo: Avenger of the Supernatural and S.W.O.R.D. lasted five a piece.

So ten issues of The Order? Not bad, guys. It’s somewhat unfortunate that the book didn’t last longer though, in large part because some of the initial premise seemed to be tied up in the fact that the various heroes would only have superpowers for on year’s time due to a flaw in the artificial superpower creation process. The characters had no choice but to burn out then, and there would have eventually been an element of urgency and desperation in their careers as superheroes, but we didn’t get to see any of that in action yet, nor much in the way of what would happen to the characters after they lost their powers (we do see some bitter, ex-Order members who have their powers prematurely stripped, however).

Would The Order occasionally get an entirely new cast? Would Fraction have written it in “Seasons” as if it were a TV show? Would the old characters stick around once they lost their powers?

It might have been interesting to find out.

In the seventh issue, Namor spends much of the issue being a prick to team leader Anthem, and talks about his own longevity in the world of superheroes and Marvels:Four years? Anthem and The Order didn’t even last four more months. I wasn’t paying close enough attention to know for sure, but I imagine if I reread the series, I’d be able to pick out the exact moment at which Marvel realized they’d be canceling the title, as Kitson’s presence seems to decrease the longer the title goes on, and more and more artists get involved.

He gets an “art by” credit in the first three issues, while Mark Morales gets an inking credit. For the fourth issue, Jon Sibal joins Morales on inks. For the fifth issue, Kitson is just providing layouts, while Khari Evans pencils (I love Evans’ work, but he draws nothing like Kitson).

For the last three issues of the series, Kitson handles breakdowns, and the credits as well as the bylines start changing from issue to issue. Order #8 finishes by Kitson, Stefano Guadiano, Paul Neary and Jon Sibal. Order #9 has penils by Javier Saltares and inks by Guardiano and Serek Fridolfs. For #10, there are pencils and finishes; Saltares for the former, Scott Hanna, Olazaba and Nelson for the latter.

So when the book reaches its halfway point, Kitson seems to arbitrarily recede, and then briefly return, before the book visually disintegrates. The rather rigid formatting of each issue that I discussed earlier helps redeem the book—the line work and character designs start to vary widely, but the book looks and reads the same due to the layouts—but The Order’s lame duck status can be read quite clearly on the pages of it’s last few installments.

It was well worth the $5 I paid for it, although I’m pretty sure I would have been sorely disappointed had I paid $26 for the two $13 trade paperbacks collecting the series. It’s certainly an interesting book to look at and consider though, for the way it illustrates a valiant attempt to try to sell new-ness to the Marvel audience and to capitalize on one of Millar’s ideas for a new series seeded into Civil War (This and Avengers: The Initiative were really the only brand-new series launched out of concepts in Civil War, right? The rest of “The Initiative” branded books were just tweaks of status quo, right?) and, I think, ultimately as a signpost in Fraction’s career. At the very least, the start of his Invincible Iron Man can be seen in the book, and a couple of elements—the setting, the prominence of Namor—prefigure some of what he’d do with the X-Men franchise.