Dawn

Which we've been awaiting for some time now. Writer Jonathan Hickman, who recently reinvented the Fantastic Four to spectacular effect, now writes Avengers, Marvel's flagship title. They are, at least according to Joss Whedon's film: Thor, Captain America, the Hulk, Black Widow, Hawkeye and Iron Man. While this newly relaunched comic begins with that team to orientate new readers, the threat of quick expansion is the Avengers stock in trade. Anyone, even a villain, can be one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

What's so thrilling about Hickman taking the reins from Brian Bendis (who, like an aging hair-metal god, has been writing just the one power-ballad over and over for twenty years) is that he's monstrously inventive. And he thrives with a huge canvas. And he's masterful in characterizing the icons. He wrote Reed and Sue Richards of the Fantastic Four not only as adventurers, but convincingly as parents too. He made Johnny Storm and Ben Grimm best friends with each other and with us.

As a big thinker (who'll go to the Negative Zone, Attilan and Latveria in one issue), Hickman deserves Marvel's boldest team. Illustrating his creative largesse is Jerome Opena, who's been redefining epic since his sublime work on Uncanny X-Force. Coloring Opena's magisterial rendering once more is Dean White, with his deep palette of marine hues (not to mention his nifty habit of adding white filigree to most surfaces).

Avengers has only two ads interrupting its creators' flow, which is a Christmas gift like no other. On the second page of story is a glyph comprised of nodes. The first ring of nodes symbolizes the team's core. The outer nodes are empty... for now. Then, in (somewhat) typical Hickman fashion, the narrative zooms among several heady snapshots, hinting at the sprawling tone of what's ahead. After having seen the cosmos begin, we get Hyperion (a Superman analogue from another dimension) struggling in a machine's clutches, an onrushing space armada, and dozens of ruined Iron Man suits.

Mercifully, things scale down from there, in a scene showing that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are actually friends (and this is key, because the supposed friction between Iron Man and Captain America is one of THE worst crutches an Avengers writer can use). Stark says his mind is afire with a new idea, and that, "The same exact thing happened the day we found you." Rogers asks, "You remember that?" A panel of old school Iron Man reflected in the ice block carrying his future teammate catches up new readers, tickles old ones. "I remember everything about that day. We started something that mattered. Because of you, the world changed. I changed."

This is beautiful character work, worthy of screens big and small; more importantly, this honors fifty years of Avengers storytelling. Chances are slim that another writer will have to mind-wipe either of them when Hickman's run ends.

The main villain, Ex Nihilo, is a devilish hybrid of Tim Curry in the film Legend and all-powerful Justice Society fiend Gog. That's he's terraformed Mars is a bad sign, though it sure looks exquisite. Our artists return with the otherworldly splendor they brought to Uncanny-Force, expertly combining murderous skies and prehistoric vegetation.

In slick, compressed narrative boxes, we're told that two bombs hit Earth and overwrote local biospheres to match the alien environment. Before disembarking their shuttle for battle on Mars, Iron Man asks, "Bruce you're better at this stuff than I am. Anything that needs to be said?" Stealing the scene, the man about to turn into a Hulk answers, "I think we're done talking."

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the fight between Ex Nihilo's creatures and our heroes is this comic's main weakness. A woman who controls shadows turns the Hulk against Thor. Iron Man is distracted and has his suit drained of power. Hawkeye and Black Widow are blasted in a single THHOOOM of energy. Finally, Captain America is pounded unconscious by a robot and then sent back to Earth as a warning. In other words, Hickman rushes through a battery of cliches, if only to revel in the last few panels of a determined Steve Rogers assembling more Avengers.

It's a first issue all right. Unfortunately, in the age of endless reboots, what should be intensely dramatic is quite a bit less so. The last page shows the roster glyph again, with nodes filled in for Wolverine, Spider-Man, Captain Marvel and a slew of others. Opposite is a stirring portrait of Captain America's call to arms (featuring some characters I don't honestly recognize). This story is called "Wake the World." Now that we're out of bed, I know you won't dare bore us, Mr. Hickman.

Brand Warfare

Roughly between 1982-1997, X indisputably marked the spot for Marvel Comics. The publisher spun-off as many titles as possible from the core brilliance that was writer Chris Claremont's Uncanny X-Men. The formula, resulting in New Mutants, X-Factor, X-Men, X-Force and Generation X (to name the most successful), went like this: mutants, feared and hated worldwide for their incredible powers, came into existence wherever teens hit pubescence (meaning everywhere). Professor Charles Xavier, aided by his "rescue and response team" of X-Men, tracked the kids and brought them to his School for Gifted Youngsters, where they received shelter and understanding... oh, and paramilitary training in the use of their powers.

Market saturation takes its toll, however. Star talents fade. The last decade hasn't been as fruitful for Brand X as it's been for the Avengers, Marvel's shinier, happier heroes. Still, recent sprouts in the garden are Grant Morrison's New X-Men and Joss Whedon's Astonishing X-Men. They're noteworthy because, with mutants now all up in Hollywood, these titles are easily handed to someone new to comics; these titles create new fans.

Uncanny X-Force, for all its dystopian excellence, does not. It sits better alongside M. John Harrison's Viriconium novels, and Michael Moorcock's Elric saga- lyrical sword and sorcery masterworks from the 80s- than it does other comics. Scribe Rick Remender honors these brutal and defiantly macabre realms by sending X-Force to assassinate Apocalypse- an evil mutant several thousand years old and recently reborn into a fresh body.

Alright, but what the hell is X-Force? Like the name implies, they're a proactively stabby branch of the X-Men who remove other extremist elements from the playing field. The current team includes the always hairy and marketable Wolverine, the wisecracking Deadpool (who's basically an undead Spider-Man with swords instead of webs), the telepathic ninja Psylocke and the winged Archangel (lovers and lesser known X-Men, despite being some of the most visually striking), and lastly, Fantomex, a character Grant Morrison created, who- wait for it- has the power to "misdirect people." He also pilots a UFO called E.V.A. that happens to be his nervous system.

They're a balanced bunch, with Deadpool bringing the inane humor ("Down! Down! Down dives our hero into the menacing green mist!"), and Fantomex the philosophy ("A man can only go so long without his poison"). Wolverine, his berserker rage always a few degrees from boiling, is the unflinching leader. Archangel, the deadly persona of billionaire Warren Worthington III, is kept in check by the telepathic ministrations of Psylocke, the team's conscience. The upset comes once they reach Apocalypse and find him reborn as a child.

Remender's premise, a take on the historical koan that wonders whether Hitler's death as a boy would've prevented World War II, requires more than a perusal of X-Lore. It requires familiarity with Apocalypse's dark, Darwinian mission to eradicate humanity, allowing mutants to reign over a broken, cleansed planet. It helps to have read the Age of Apocalypse storyline from the mid 90s (an alternate reality where he achieves his goal), and to know that this villain who's feared but seldom seen is responsible for the once dreamy Angel becoming the broody, unstable Archangel.

Remender's character-heavy dialogue hardly ever acclimates the uninitiated: "Gotta tell ya, Flyboy," says Wolverine to Archangel, "when you give bad news you don't mess about." When Fantomex mocks their mission's dour tone, Psylocke replies, "You wouldn't be so flippant if you knew what he did to Warren."

One panel hints at the 1986 story Mutant Massacre, where Angel lost his original wings. But for dedicated X-Men fans, Uncanny X-Force is an adult, atmospheric read full of rewarding short-hand. Most of the heavy lifting comes from artist Jerome Opena and colorist Dean White. Opena is the kind of detail-oriented creator whose attention to body types and scale feels boundless. His citadels and plazas induce vertigo. His textured costumes and exceptional facial expressions invoke the legendary Neal Adams. Add to this White's nuanced array of limes, lavenders and midnights, and the reader goes spelunking in narrative caverns razor-wired off from the rest of the Marvel Universe

This series also boasts some intensely gorgeous painted covers by Esad Ribic. An amazing sequential artist in his own right, Ribic does for decadent anti-heroes what Frank Frazetta did for barbarians decades ago.

Uncanny X-Force's success has vaulted its creators onto Marvel's A-List. In October, when the publisher relaunches the core universe, Ribic draws Thor, Opena draws Avengers, and Remender writes Uncanny Avengers. These assignments, I trust, have the trio's creative juices running high. Ounce for ounce, there's none stronger.