Free Comic Book Day has arrived, boys and girls, and if you’re still not sure which books you want enveloped in your greedy little mitts, keep on reading…
DC’s newest volume of Deathstroke is basically a nine-volt battery to the tongue. It’s not pleasant, and it’s more than a little unsettling. And yet for some reason, I find myself trying it again even though I know it’s terrible.
So, maybe I’m the only weirdo who intentionally runs electrical current through his face, but I know there are plenty of assholes out there who continue following this comic. As I mentioned in my review of the first issue, the buzz around the book was inexplicably positive. This time around it’s not quite so widely loved but much to my chagrin it is not universally reviled.
Just as confounding, in my eyes, is this book’s utter disregard for the continuity in which it exists. At the end of the last issue, we saw a rejuvenated Slade Wilson being all sexy after the mystical I-Ching resurrected his bullet-riddled mercenary ass. I commented in my write-up that I wasn’t sure if it was actually Deathstroke (it is) because he had black hair whereas young Slade Wilson was always shown to have blonde hair. Now, you may be saying “Kang, you dummy! This is the New 52 continuity, maybe Deathstroke is some swarthy raven-haired fellow in this version of DC’s history.”
Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in…
A few weeks back I stopped into my local comic shop to grab my weekly pull list and a friend of mind recommended I take a look at the shitshow that is the newly relaunched Deathstroke series. You see, he knows that I love awful movies and tacky art in an ironic sort of way, and this one seriously took me by surprise. So here I am , suited up once more to dredge through the sewer line that is the New 52.