Hey, Dreamwidth Family! It’s that time again!
Recently, I completed Chapter XII of Curse of Creation: Lil’ Hero Artists, tying up the latest installment as Volume 3 concluded. I have about only two remaining volumes left until this entire saga – a sequel arc to the first volume, Lil’ Hero Artists: The Original Series – is completed and the entire story of the Lil’ Hero Artists finally ends. After that, all that remains is to complete Sneakers’ U-Force, which is much larger in scope, lore, and character development. While the ending for Curse of Creation was finalized just less of a decade ago, the meat of the whole package hadn’t been “juiced”. With Sneakers, I also have an ending planned, but I’ve got so many story ideas to weave into the path written down that reaching the finale will definitely take much longer than it has for Curse of Creation.
But then again, that ain’t a bad thing, right? Because art should never be about meeting standards. The moment someone mention standards that aren’t your own, you’re no longer doing “your” actual work. “You’re” doing “their” work through “your” body. Anyone who wants to debate me over the moral depravity of this mindset, I’ve got receipts: Jack Kirby’s estate suing Marvel Comics and Stan Lee for freeloading the universe he created, Wally Wood blowing his mind out on Halloween night because he would rather “cut off his hands” than keep greasing the gears of industry that starves its talent, even Ian McGinty, who died at the age of 38 because the comic book industry’s dirty little secretive “dealings” took one life too many. Oh, and I’ll also invite my critics to read up on the #ComicsBrokeMe movement and the news surrounding Diamond Comics Distributor’s Chapter 11 bankruptcy in January of 2025 and the fallout that remains to this day. Capitalism kills, peeps. All day, and all the time.
Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, time to check out something comic-related that respects comics as they’re meant to be; an art form with a narrative. And as I’ve been slacking a bit on my bookmarked/subbed comics, now a good time to take a look at what I’ve missed – starting with UnComix One-Shots: The Piranha (Un-Iverse #17), part of the massive online epic Gilda and Meek and the Un-Iverse by Matt Zimmer. Now, before I start, there’s just one thing: even though my word processor has the “Spellcheck” widget preinstalled, I still can’t type the word “piranha” correctly before the correction tab appears – wait – well… okay, I spelled it correctly now, but it took a lot of practice. I wrote about this nitpicky flaw of mine, but Matt responded in a humorous yet reassuring way. Well, Matt… I guess you were right. ‘Sides, nobody’s perfect, right?
Without further ado, let’s take a walk on the light-bulb-festooned wild side with our buddy, The Piranha!
Gilda And Meek - UnComix One-Shots No. 3 (Un-Iverse #17): “The Piranha” Review
Story #1 - “Cookies”, eaten by Matt Zimmer (heh, heh… I see what you did there, Matt...):
• The story starts off with the Piranha murderously leering a docile cookie jar. As Dr. Raggleworth (for some reason these days I can’t help but hear his words in Bill Farmer’s “Goofy” voice) reminds the lil’ fish that those morsels are strictly after-supper treats, the Piranha hisses like a irate cat and hurries off… only to return AND meet the jar on the countrt table as soon as the good Doc leaves.
• BUUUT, before our dashing sea critter can so much as secure his prize, a sentient hand sprouts out and breaks its fingers off in the Piranha’s John Brown hind parts. Dr. Raggleworth installed the nifty gadget – an “Automatic Toe-Picker” retrofitted as spanking machine – and rigged the cookies with assorted traps to ensure the Piranha never lays a fin on any of them. Gotta say, even if tools used are questionable at best, it’s quite the effective deterrent. Props, Doc. ππΎππΎ
• But the Piranha isn’t deterred – he’s challenged. And our boy here is ready to TAKE that challenge as he realizes the game here. In another room, Dr. Raggleworth cozies up with a nice book while reclining – one of my favorite pastimes to this day with any cool fiction book, comic, or graphic novel – confident that the next cookie jar that Piranha comes across has a joy buzzer set to fry his scales. The fact that Dr. Raggleworth doesn’t come off as a stereotypical mad scientist is what really sells this whole short story so far…
• But ah, the tables – and the page the good doctor was reading – have been turned, and its Dr. Raggleworth who gets an ungodly surge of electricity fed right into his pores; the Piranha set him up first by meticulously placing a joy buzzer of his between the book’s pages. As the Piranha takes a moment to bask in bragging rights, I’ll take a moment to appreciate the Narrator’s humor here; I haven’t read The Bridges of Madison County, and I pity the fact that it became a Clint Eastwood film since I’m so jaded about any movie Eastwood stars in… he usually plays a lawless thug/cowboy/Texan ranger who gets into a lot of firefights and is particularly abusive towards women. Just… not my kinda thing. Anyway, let’s get back to the main event, shall we? After all, Dr. Raggleworth feels so after the shock weas off: “It is on”.
• The Doc promptly responds by triggering a hidden cage that traps swiftly the Piranha. But the cage is no match for the sheer spontaneity of our sea critter friend, who wears the cage down by ricocheting from all angles and spinning the cage into a blur. Piranha uses the momentum – and the moment – to gnaw his way through the cage’s worn and flimsy bars and finally escape, now more than ever determined to find that flippin’ cookie jar!
• The Doc eyeballs the Piranha as he makes for the jar, and leaps forward to stop him from reaching the prize… but nope, Piranha gets the 1up as the Doc is yanked upward by a snare. But the Doc is smiling in that panel, though… does that mean this was planned?
• Indeed, it was. It so, so WAS planned. While dangling from the snare – must’ve been a decoy – the Doc activates another gadget: a plastic mallet pops out near the cookie jar and conks Piranha on the noggin with a trolling squeak for good measure. Man, Piranha, I know you’re not taking that lying down. That was just all kinds of disrespectful. Bust out them light bulbs, lil’ sea buddy. This is your reputation we’re talking about here…
• But what’s this? After cutting himself free from the snare, Dr. Raggleworth ends up trapped halfway in a specially-designed trapdoor. After having a quick laugh, the Piranha helps the Doc up and walks him over to that comfy-looking couch over there… until a specially-designed springboard catapults the scaled one straight into the ceiling. But what’s THIS? The Piranha uses the momentum from swinging from a nearby fan to a perfect-ten landing on the counter where the cookie jar lies in wait! Without a moment’s hesitation, the Piranha claims his prize and consumes all of the jar’s sugary contents in one gulp… man, these two oughta train for those big-name athletic event -- I’m pushing for the Piranha to compete in the Olympic Games, with skills like that! But just a second… didn’t the Doc say that the cookies were also lined with traps…?
• After the Piranha and the good Doc share a warm, fuzzy hug (interrupted by a colossal belch from the former), the entire lab goes through a mighty upheaval with the floor giving way under both of them, leading into a dark abyss with no apparent way out. However, neither of them is angry or even slightly bothered by their predicament – it’s clearly fate that arranged for today’s quality time, and both Piranha and Dr. Raggleworth are so here for it. A heartwarming way for the story to end – and can I just say that I really love the pencil shading of darkness in the final two panels here? Most people say that kind of shading doesn’t capture darkness, but I call B.S. on that. I even used that technique a lot back in my later two years in high school for graphic design and fine art classes; there is something rewarding about shading large areas of darkness by hand that digital coloring programs will never duplicate. Back in the day, even the comic book pros would trace an area to “fill” with black ink through a pen or brush before setting about “filling” the area. Matt, your two final panels here capture not only the darkness, but also the “feel-goods” through the Doc and Piranha’s bonding, and both themes compliment each other. On Matt’s official website for Gilda and Meek (where I’m reading this comic live atm) you can check out some birthday artwork by Jasper Hansen to get a feel for how powerful by-hand shading can be.
Story Number Two: “Narf-Narf and Chirp: Hostages” – Taken by Matt Zimmer
• This story kicks off with our suave-bird-and-freaky-cat duo visiting the local bank, with Chirp pondering a legit question; why exactly does Narf-Narf even have a bank account? The grinning Cat responds by citing his teller, a Terran Dog named Joey, has been lending a hand to assist with his savings account – about $10 grand rests in the vault currently. Not bad, not bad.
• Chirp already catches Narf-Narf’s drift, picturing the astronomical amount of sore throat spray that kind of bank can buy, with Narf-Narf not only confirming that speculation, but stating that he means to buy up even more of the stuff -- $10,000 worth of sore throat spray is just the beginning, it seems. The “apocalypse” must be advancing if the Cat’s stockpiling at THIS level.
• At that moment, two thugs burst into the bank, each with a beanie-style face mask, a pistol, and a large pouch (likely leather). Looks like an old-fashioned stick-up, folks! And true to form, one of the deadbeats invokes the customary greeting of ALL bank robbers – “Nobody be a hero!” – as Narf-Narf angrily realizes that fun-time’s over, and it’s time to bounce. Besides, the Cat’s apparently got a few messes to clean up anyway… namely, a few fires.
• The Dark-Masked Deadbeat has his buddy, the Light-Masked Deadbeat, fan out and empty all the registers on the premises. Too bad his eyes were locked on the terrified populace, though, because only moments later he gets a little judgement from above for his sinful actions… in the form of large deposit of excrement from a terrified Chirp! And it’s SUCH a judgement that this reward from the Great Beyond manages to seep into the Dark-Masked Deadbeat’s eyes! Yeah… that’s harsh.
• The ordeal forces the Dark-Masked Deadbeat to unload a torrent of vomit, which triggers the same reaction from the Light-Masked Deadbeat. Soon, the two Deadbeats are awash in what is likely the most nauseating experience of their lives; slipping over each other’s vomit while vainly trying to rub out the gunk in their eyes. Gotta say, whether this was the intention of both Chirp and Narf-Narf or not, it was pretty effective… and gross… and humorous!
• And if that wasn’t enough, the pistol slips out of one of the Deadbeat’s hands and conveniently lands in the palm of a nearby elderly woman. She holds the remaining armed Deadbeat at gunpoint, leaving him with no choice but to drop his own firearm. Maaaaaan… talk about a really bad string of horrible luck. Half of the crowd inside the bank cheer for the unlikely chain of events that led to the two Deadbeats’ capture, but the other half is still nauseated from the manner in which this outcome came to be and can no longer hold back their own gags. But as the crowd cheers the elder Widow Crumpetwhacker and the authorities arrive to arrest the two failed Deadbeats, Chirp is one unhappy bird.
• Narf-Narf, being the inquisitive one he is, expresses his wonder at Chirp’s swift action. But Chirp only grows more irritated when his Cat friend ponders what they should do next. Chirp’s expression soon matches his anger as he sternly warns Narf-Narf that he just lost his L.A. privileges for this screwup. Moreover, Chirp sets the record straight with another threat; Narf-Narf is now on thin ice and may not under any circumstances mention what has transpired here to ANYONE. This story ends on a rather tense note, as the look on Chirp’s ace is not one of a kidder – he’s dead serious, and The Narrator spells it out for us: “Chirp’s face is stone cold. Gangsta. Wayne Brady’s gonna choke SOMEBODY.” Regardless, I’m curious where the friendship of these two is headed…
Story Number Three: “The Humans – ‘Safari Jerk Does It Again’” – Ill-Conceived by Matt Zimmer
• Next up, the Narrator gives us a short prologue about a certain individual in the real world: a Congressman from Texas named Louie Gohmert. And he was quite a character, indeed. Rep. Gohmert was all about extremism, being a member of the now-defunct Tea Party Movement, an extremist movement helmed by the likes of Sarin Palin. This movement took off during an era of escalating gun violence and terrorism throughout Barack Obama’s tenure as President. In fact, it got so bad that Obama’s administration and the DOJ had compiled a report full of damning evidence that the Republican Party’s rhetoric and associations with right-wing paramilitary groups. The leadership of the Republican Party and its proxies, such as John Boehner and Rush Limbaugh, raged to high heaven for the DOJ’s report not to be released out of fear of being scapegoated with “the people who pulled the trigger when [they] didn’t.” And while the upcoming story is not about Rep. Gohmert (Thank God), the Narrator warns that we’re not out of the woods yet – there is still a story to be told.
• We meet our absent-minded, intrepid quartet singing (or wailing? Given who The Humans are?) while lounging around in the African Jungle. The Narrator makes a brief statement about what the four were singing, careful to not arouse the legal wrath of the original composer of the song “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and directs our attention to a rather menacing-looking Big Game Hunter observing from some nearby bushes, unnoticed.
• The Big Game Hunter muses over his quarry, as “Mutated Animal Monkeys” are a rare find indeed and will fetch a handsomely, astronomically, HEAVENLY price from some eager chaps at a circus. He makes his move, stealthily approaching The Humans and easily subdues them with a tranq-dart each… so to Solid Snake of Metal Gear Solid: eat your heart out, soldier.
• The Narrator tells us a little more about this Big Game Hunter fella, and we find that not only does he have the mind of a poacher but a deep knowledge of the lucrative industry of Terran bondage. And as the Narrator says, the laughing is about to stop big time. The Big Game Hunter is indeed confirmed as a poacher, one who has complete disrespect for the rule of law and has been so for years. In other words, what we have here is “an insubordinate, unprincipled, career-minded opportunist with a history of violating the chain of command whenever it suited him!” Wait a minute… my bad, Narrator. I guess I’ve been binge-watching watching Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country on repeat again.
• As The Humans wake up, the Big Game Hunter boasts about the absolute fortune the black market will hand him. He introduces himself as Link, which strikes a chord given how issues ago in the Un-Iversal archives Bernadette Anderson theorized that this universe exists as an interconnected entity in its own right – unrelated factors linked together regardless.
• Unfortunately for Link here, the mention of his name drives The Humans into a cheerful frenzy; they tear themselves out of their bonds and assault the hunter with kisses while he immediately pushes back, completely confused. The Humans recognize the name, even though this is not the Link they know… and proceed to declare that he is indeed one of them. The Narrator is unnerved by this revelation, and so am I.
• After flinging their excretions every which way in a celebratory manner and insist that the Big Game Hunter is officially family now and forever, the petrified Link realizes just how royally effed he is. As nightfall approaches, The Humans have the Big Game Hunter tied up and subject him to not unlicensed songs, but generic nursery rhyme style drivel. Understandably, the vocal earsore drives the Big Game Hunter into a panic… such a splitting panic that he is eventually pushed to pray for a way out of the torture. And God’s response to his prayer was to inflict a heart attack upon the Big Game Hunter.
• This story concludes with The Humans laying the Big Game Hunter to rest, inscribing Frank “Grimey” Grimes on his gravestone. And at the same time, the four acknowledge again that this was not the Link they knew before charting the Himalayas as their next destination. Aside from the fact that there is a curious critter observing from behind, I just need to take a moment to process what I just saw over the those last few panels. Are The Humans aware of how they basically just killed the Big Game Hunter with their random-octave vocals? Especially since they KNEW this wasn’t their Link? And if so, was this a justified action given how much of a lawless poacher the Hunter was? Or was it wrong overall as is the case when taking a life, especially one of no threat to The Humans? I don’t know, but it does get my brain thinking as to just how complex The Humans might actually be, despite their base patterns of life. We’ll see.
Story Number Four: Title TBA… (don’t worry, you’ll see what I mean)
• We’re now whisked from the Humans at Link’s funeral in the depths of the African Jungle to a more modern setting – a casino complete with flashing lights and well-clad chaps flirting with Lady Luck. And in Lady Luck’s alluring abode, we see another lady strutting by with a duffle bag with a voluptuous figure and a sexy form-fitting dress cut down to there. Hit it, Isley Brothers:
π΅Who’s that lady? (Who’s that lady?)
Beautiful lady… (Who’s that lady?)
Lovely lady… (Who’s that lady?)
Real fine lady… (Who’s that lady?)
Hear me callin out to you / ‘cuz that all that I can do
Your eyes tell to pursue / but you say “Look yeah, but don’t touch, baby”π΅
• Turns out the lady in question is none other than Stella Stickyfingers (I am a bit surprised at that). That’s obviously lost on the guys in the casino though as their eyes are feasting on the Terran dog while she makes her way to the bartender. The man gives her the “You ain’t legal” glare, but is easily swayed by her I.D. shows she’s 25 and a med student and a flirtatious wink… easily swayed indeed, given that Stella’s only 19 years old and anything but a med student. I wonder how many sting operations this man barely slipped through… something tells me that ends today. As Stella orders a whiskey, a rather shifty-looking fellow makes a crass warning imply this drink is not for the faint-hearted, but Stella is unshaken.
• Stella then heads to a blackjack table, where the Narrator tells us about her real game. Just as we learned that she’s an accomplished thief in Un-Iverse #16, Stella is also a devious tactician in the art of cardistry. As in, she is deft with her game while in the midst of several distractions such people repeatedly filling her shot glass. And suddenly, we’re on the Narrator page as we put together these two crucial talents crucial to Stella’s character. At the same time, there’s a rather cantankerous-looking fellow a seat away from her, whom we learn is Spike of the Canine Mafia.
• Stella gives Spike what appears to be a Canine Mafia-coded prompt, leading the latter to respond with a secret password. In true Mafia fashion, Spike kisses Stella’s hand and leads her into a private, high-stakes poker game backroom. Four other men sit nearby, and they are loaded. Not just with bourbon, but also with lead; thanks for the lesson in the lingo, Tracer Bullet.
• Knowing that the four good-fellas are all about the “don’t eff with us, lady” vibes, Stella states she’s dealing and is cool with “Rico”. Two of the button men warn that this is the Big Leagues; their game is for something so secret that all but two of the 50 states deem legal… and right now we’re in neither.
• The four hit men each pull out a small, innocent kitten, turning the unnerving level of this high-stakes game up to an intolerable level. It seems cats are on the menu tonight… at which the title card for this caper appears: Stella Stickyfingers “Stella Cheats at Kitten Poker” Wagered by Matt Zimmer
• Stella’s come prepared with her own feline as she plucks Narf-Narf out of the duffle bag she was carrying. Narf-Narf displays a level of foresight in cardistry that surpasses even Stella’s, reading the cards of everyone at the table and sending the info back to her in Morse Code via rapid eye-blinks. That, ladies and gentlemen, is true extrasensory projection with foresight. Stella wins all four kittens as a result, while a few more button men walk and search her for any kind of device or hack that could’ve swept the opposition so badly. Unfortunately, Stella’s clean and the victory is legit. You don’t see poker players with that kind of mental dexterity… no, really. You don’t. That’s why we’re in the Un-Iverse… you feel me?
• I can tell the Canine Mafia fellows aren’t exactly gracious in defeat, as one of the boys asks Stella how she likes her kittens served up. Packing up the winnings and sensing how ravenous the mafiosos are looking, Stella states her status as refined vegetarian palate and is escorted out. It seems as though these mafiosos are assuming more about her than they let on, but them’s the breaks, see? A deal’s a deal, and a win’s a win… see? *shiftily eyes around with an “I heard it from my tipper at the docks last night” look*
• Once clear of the area and around a corner, Stella sets the 20 kittens free from their trappings and it is revealed that they are all nephews and nieces of Narf-Narf himself! So, we really WERE caught in a rousing casino caper! And upon seeing his kin as they all cat-pile him with huggies, Narf-Narf’s sociopathic nature is chill for just a moment. Can’t be disturbingly unsettling when your lost family is found… it ruins the impact of the vibes. Even Stella can’t help but fawn a bit at the cuteness overload before her.
• However, the serenity of this heartwarming scene is soon shattered by the sounds of an open-gun shootout from within the casino; looks like the mafioso’s caught wind of somebody having tipped them off, and they are NONE too happy about it. And given that these button men are packing SERIOUS heat, I’m grateful that we’re not seeing what’s going down in there, what with all of the bloodcurdling screams. It is at that moment that Chirp swoops out from above the casino, wearing a ski mask and with a huge bag of at least $10,000 in one talon and a gun in the other. Turns out Chirp held up the casino, which explains some of the bullets going off earlier. Stella, like the Terran Dog she is, immediately gets excited by the stash of cash and fawns over Chirp’s deft work before the threesome -- and Narf-Narf rescued kin – fade into the shadows of the night. Another successful heist, and the odds have been defied yet again! Cue the melancholy sax solo as the film noir credits roll…
Story Number Five: Howler – “Bad Moon Rising: Part Three: Whose Side Are You On?”, Transformed By Matt Zimmer
• First off, can I just say I freaking LOVE how original these story subtitles are? Matt, it’s like you’re actively telling these through so many different methods! “Transformed By”? “Wagered By”? "Ill-Conceived"?! You don’t see such clever wordplay in the average run-of-the-mill comics of today, with only a few exceptions. All right, moving on…
• We are now nearing the Werewolf Compound on the mountainside outside of town, as a group of Bad Dawgs (Werewolves, actually) approach in a large van carrying the captive Audrey Howler in chains. Our bad dawgs here are cheering as the Compound Crew prepare to receive the prize. They waste no time hustling Audrey inside, and the lady is pissed such that a Werewolf hits her with another pain dart to stifle her transformation; regardless, Audrey promises the creep that he is most certainly on The List first chance she gets.
• We then meet the Big Big Dawg himself, the Tribe leader Drake. He apologizes for his subordinates’ methods but insists that it was for the best. Drake reveals the imperativeness of Howler conforming to the Tribe’s creed, stating that with some persuasion Audrey could also conform to the creed. If both Audrey and Howler see the light, Drake assures that Audrey will be returned to her husband lickety-split with not a single scratch. But Audrey hears the whole deal and finishes Drake’s statement in her own mind – he means that on the condition that Howler join the team. Also, Audrey’s well aware that she’s only a bargaining chip to Drake and the Werewolf Tribe, and nothing more. Drake may think he’s slick, but he’s not slick enough.
• Back at Howler’s residence, he wakes up officer Phil (remember him, peeps?) with ferocious howls as he pounds on the door holding him back. Phil wants to let Howler out, but can’t help but pause; tonight is a full moon, and if Howler can control his peak form with pain, there must be several other objects of extreme discomfort nearby. The “In Case of Emergency” light bulb immediately goes off, and Phil makes a beat for upstairs…
• …and as he arrives in the Howlers’ bedroom, Phil is horrified – the bedroom is chock full of all manner of torture devices strewn around. Luckily there’s no indication of any of these objects being used for BDSM purposes; no married couple would stoop that low. Shaking off the shock, Phil acquires a tranquilizer gun and ammunition (the same as what the Werewolves at the compound just used) and makes his way to the basement. As he lets a very impulsive Howler out, Phil fires upon him six times while holding his ground and returns him to sanity. Howler is grateful, but calls out Phil’s slight inexperience with the weapon by citing excessive force. Though, I’m wondering if Phil was alluding to being under duress or true inexperience with the tranquilizer… I’m betting on the former.
• After quickly dressing up, Howler declares he’s got to rescue Audrey. He reveals that he’s got a real BMF (Bad Mother F…, a la Pulp Fiction, for the uninitiated) somewhere in the crib that subjects everyone in the vicinity to searing pain; as he’s already in pain, Howler will remain unaffected and at an advantage. Phil, on the other hand, begs to differ and inquires about the true extent of both lucid and full transformations. Howler acknowledges the cruciality of this inquiry, explaining that lucid transformations are partial, and happen on nights lacking a full moon. Full transformations go together with full moons, but with the effect of rendering Werewolves completely unruly. However, there are some exceptions to that effect for Werewolves who’ve trained rigorously – these Werewolves can remain in control while fully transformed. Unfortunately, our boy Howler here ain’t one of those Werewolves since his full transformations are on a level that cannot be contained.
• Phil retorts with another question: Since a full transformation tonight would mean a rescue attempt for Audrey would be ill-advised, how will Howler be able to save her AND face off against a whole army of transformed Werewolves? And I gotta say, Phil’s asking the right Q here. Howler will be at a real disadvantage and could really get pummeled. This could end up being seriously ALL bad, peeps. Howler reiterates that it’s imperative that he find that BMF and orders Phil to stay and hold down the fort, as well as to negotiate with Drake in his name should the latter call the pad. He drops three scenarios and preferred answers. If Drake’s calling for cash, Phil’s gotta stall. If Drake’s calling for cooperations, Phil’s gotta lie like hell. If Drake’s calling for Howler himself, Phil’s gotta tell him the rendezvous’ll happen in short time. If the third scenario’s the reality, then its corresponding answer is now fact.
• A quick drive to a warehouse downtown – and past a storage spot for Narf-Narf – and Howler promptly finds his storage spot. The warehouse attendant is off for the day; thus, Howler opens his storage on his own. As he opens the large industrial door, Howler finally acquires the special weapon he sought: a sonic device that subjects all and sundry under excruciating pain – we’re talking ear-splitting, skull-piercing pain on a scale that would the Venom Symbiote writhe in agony. Armed with the device and with a set of earplugs for himself and his beloved, it seems Howler’s preparations are complete… until he’s bludgeoned hard to unconsciousness by a crowbar-swinging feline. I’m pretty sure that was a skull-fracturing hit; only other time I’ve seen someone hit THAT hard was when I saw the DCAU film “Batman: Under the Red Hood” – the film opens with the Joker beating Robin (the Jason Todd iteration) to within an inch of his life with a crowbar and sadistically trash-talking the kid. What do both that scene and this scene have in common? They’re both painful to witness.
• Howler regains consciousness only to feel the heavy iron of a hammer on his head, held by none other than Mitch. The Cat snarls at his quarry, stating that his orders are to put a hefty helping of lead through his skull. Howler, ever the badass, dares Mitch to pull the trigger but Mitch retorts by saying he’s considering possibly letting Howler live. Unconvinced, Howler again dares his foe to open fire. Mitch now seems to have seriously conflicting views on following through on his superior’s command, citing that his loyalties are split between the government and a source that insists that he and Howler are on the same team. Mitch doesn’t buy the source’s claims, but he’s not at liberty to contest them. To this, Howler is unconvinced and tells Mitch to cut the bullshit; while Howler is also a government agent, he is fully committed to defeating Mistress Augatha. Augatha, who was revealed to be a MAJOR factor since Part 1 of Howler’s tale back in Un-Iverse #15.
• With a sly grin, Mitch asks Howler a direct question: who ever implied him to work in the interest of the government? After a moment of dead silence, Howler angrily reiterates his earlier question on whether or not Mitch will just take the shot… like, make up yo’ mind, Kittens! Or do you like playing mind games with people just for the fun of it? Mitch responds by dropping some crucial info – Howler’s walking into a trap, and a crew’s on standby eagerly anticipating his arrival. Also, Howler’s car has been bugged, only worsening the prospects. Well, damn – its’ not lookin’ good, guys. The enemy’s planned this one out pretty damned well…
• Howler takes the tip before dismissively asking just how Mitch would like his ass beaten down, but Mitch only grins back and reminds Howler that while he’s got his orders, he operates on his own discretion, and his superior asks no questions about it. In other words, the Cat’s message comes down to this: “Dawg, don’t you know who I am?! I’m the cat who could judo-throw you to the ground and rake the gravel with your TEETH, you understand? Don’t EFF with me, buddy! This ain’t my first time drawing blood, and you’ll effing remember that.” After that moment of pride, Mitch lowers his weapon while telling Howler that despite his disdain for Howler’s foolhardiness, the Cat cannot put him down and that for his own sake the legends about him had better be true. With one final deck across Howler’s snout, Mitch takes off with Howler giving some parting advice on how to properly cosplay as Batman doing his disappearance routine after Commish Gordon gives the lowdown. Grabbing the weapon and the ear guards, Howler prepares to head out.
• Back at the Werewolves’ Compound, Audrey observes the pottery and various works of art around the premises and immediately begins to reminisce about the earlier days with Howler in somber thoughtfulness. She is momentarily stirred when an old woman happens by and inquiries about the medallion around her neck. Audrey tells the elderly woman about how her mother was an Infected, and how despite finding peace with her life and bearing six Born children, she passed the medallion unto Audrey as a reminder of the great cost that comes with being a Werewolf. Audrey also owes her life to her mother’s Infection, which only adds to the burden and debt.
• As the elderly woman tries to sympathize with Audrey over the life she once had with not being seen as a savage beast, Audrey bluntly makes it clear that she doesn’t miss this Tribe in particular, and that they’ll soon be dead due to Drake’s foolishness. As the elderly woman strongly contests Audrey’s claims, Audrey doubles down by citing Drake’s unfitness to be leader of this Tribe. Her status as a Born does not blind her to the fact that Augatha’s promises about the cure for the Infected are falsehoods to the nth degree, and that she’s marching this tribe into an early grave. But the elderly woman responds by saying she is of Born status herself, and that this current abode was a Born Compound in the past – now this is interesting. Perhaps the elderly woman knows more than she lets on…
• This prompts Audrey to ponder how many more Compounds will be commandeered by outsiders; the Infected class are large in number but also have disproportionate political power over the Born class to boot. In layman’s terms: the Infecteds outnumber the Born class and have such overreach while they’re also completely untrustworthy. All that power in the hands of a select group who shouldn’t have it. And what’s worse is that Audrey knows the situation is woefully beyond her, and it has erased all traces of the rich nature of what is now a deflated culture and a meaningless existence – an acknowledgement that carries all the signs of assimilation and forced conforming with a dash of cancel culture. If I didn’t know any better, these woes sound an awful lot like the sins of colonialism as well as assimilation. Audrey reiterates her belief that the Tribe leader is the equivalent of a self-hating individual who yearns for a simpler existence and could care less about the interests of the Born class, and denounces his status while telling the elderly lady who she believes DOES have their interests at heart: a lady by the name of Gabrielle. Hey, waitaminute, I think I remember that name…
• Back at the Howler Residence, Phil is contacted by one of Drake’s crew-boys. As Phil prepares to set the terms of negotiation via the parameters of his source “Juan”, Crew-Boy responds with a flat-out rejection of any desire to negotiate, having tracked Howler’s location at the storage warehouse. The Werewolf grins toothily as he drops the verbal deathblow: Howler is in their custody and is only moments away from drawing his last breath. In true villainous fashion, the receiver is hung up, leaving Phil in a panicked state: things are about to get dangerously serious. With a capital “S”!
And that, good people, wraps up Un-Comix One-Shots, No. 3! I’ve sure I’ve said this before, but though Matt says the reception to the One-Shots has been one of lack of interest or irritated snarks, I’ve come to really appreciate these short stories. I’m reminded of the small anthology-style books I used to read in elementary school, with a plethora of what seemed to be standalone stories which gradually reveal themselves as centered around a certain theme. During my brief time at Alterna Comics, I checked out some of their now out-of-stock collection series, the Alterna Tales Anthologies. The publisher released at least four of them, with the third being more of a showcase of the 2007-2008 submissions contest (and where me and Nick Vollmer were spotlighted as one of the runners-up with Lil’ Hero Artists), while the remaining three centered on unique themes.
And as the One-Shots are also crucial to understand the greater narrative (I loved the reminder of how both Mistress Augatha and Gabrielle have a huge role to play, further legitimizing the importance of these One-Shots), it really does bring home the admonition that adorns the cover of all of the One-Shots thus far: a simple “Shut Up. We’re Doing This.” Harsh? A little. Offensive? Well, for me it’s more of an invitation. Sometimes you gotta get dragged through the mud to get to the other side of chasm. And imagine my excitement upon reading the last caption on the last page: UnComix One-Shots 4 (Un-Iverse #18) seems to focus heavily on Howler, as his name is the sole subtitle for the next collection. Hell, I’m feeling like howling in excitement right now! So, before I do so, I want to say peace out and thank you to Matt for providing such intricate tales in the massive Gilda and Meek epic; the effort, and more importantly, the passion shines through each page. I look forward to finding out what becomes of Howler. And one final note to Matt: I completed the fan art B-Day gift for you yesterday afternoon. I'll have it ready for you on the 30th; I had lot of fun with this one, and hopefully you'll like it as much as I do.
Peace and love to you all,
Nana
--“Jason Deroga”