Carey clearly has a plan in mind for Bobby, hooking him up (in a way I found almost too convenient) with Opal, a former girlfriend, before turning the situation on its head. It’s unfortunate that in doing so, Carey reverses the ending of the still-fresh Wolverine arc, Get Mystique, but on the other hand, there was no chance that particular “death” would stick, so it’s easy to forgive for the twist. Iceman’s developing powers - and his lack of understanding he has of the full range of his abilities - have long been a subject of stop-start exploration ever since the days of Scott Lobdell, so it’s good to see Carey picking up the baton in a definitive way. The story itself isn’t yet very gripping, but the prospect of seeing this side of the character explored definitely is.

The second story in the anthology is a single-parter about Boomer, or Boom Boom, or whatever her current codename is. She’s in full-on Nextwave mode, fighting a villain with considerable support from Beast. It’s an entertaining fluff piece, befitting the current interpretation of the character, with a couple of good jokes and some decent art, though it’s hardly essential reading. Even less so is the third piece, which re-introduces Karma to a modern audience - I’ve been reading X-Men for almost 15 years and she’s even before my time, truth be told, so it’s an uphill struggle at best. It works partly well, though it’s a little brief on occasion (I already knew there was a period where she was made massively obese - but I still don’t know how) and the story appears to be mainly used to introduce a plot arc that’ll spring back up somewhere over in Uncanny in the near future. Again, nothing massively special, and in this case, occasionally obscured by continuity.

These anthologies tend to work reasonably well for the X-Men, who have a wide and diverse array of characters, all of whom are easily placed to drop in and out of the mutantverse at any point, though the lack of emphasis on the book’s format during promotion will certainly irritate those looking for a coherent storyline rather than a collection of vignettes that tie into the current status quo.

Abnett and Lanning develop the new Authority in a logical fashion, by presenting them with the most basic crisis: a challenge to their territory. The plotting here is exemplary, with the injured Swift given the perfect reason for remaining an observer while the power of the opposing gang is demonstrated to the readers. There’s a commendable faithfulness to the book’s new tone in selecting such an uncomplicated challenge for the team. Despite this grounding, the writers still find room to include more sci-fi high concepts in the shape of the Soulstorms, adding to the Warhol Virus seen last issue. It’s these little touches of imagination which give the book consistency with its previous incarnations, despite the complete inversion of setting. Where once the wonders of shiftships and spaceflight were a source of awe, now each fantastical addition to the world brings only horror. Simon Coleby’s ink-heavy art adds to the feeling of dread, and is a perfect match for the title.

Pointedly refusing to expand their pared-down cast from last issue, the book’s real triumph is managing to make its heroes feel like separate people, without artificially generating tension within the team. This is a group of characters the readership has come to know every well, exposed to an unprecedented situation. Each has a completely feasible viewpoint, which leads them to interact with their fellows in line with their agendas. The interaction feels real rather than forced or expositionary, and although the reader inevitably finds themselves siding with Swift and the Midnighter’s determination to take the initiative, their less driven compatriots manage to avoid irritating.

The only niggle is a small point of characterisation, but one that still manages to irritate. Swift’s Buddhist upbringing and beliefs have been an established part of the character for years, and her frequent blasphemy in the Christian tradition feels more than a little odd. Her exclamation of horror at Eidolon’s presence in UnLondon (”Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.“) should be a shocking breakdown from a battle-hardened veteran, but instead merely jars the reader out of the issue. Abnett & Lanning have generally handled The Authority’s retreat from mature-reader territory well, but a more in-character solution to the limitations on swearing is called for.

Every Wednesday we take turns to delve into our trusty longboxes, pluck out a dusty back issue, and give you our thoughts. We’ll also try and place it in the context of the time it was originally published.

As you may have gathered, James, Seb and I share fond memories of “the UK’s official Sega comic“. Not to be confused with the US series published by Archie, STC was a fortnightly anthology book, published from 1993 to 2002. The title was closely modelled on 2000A.D., with which it shared an editor. Each issue was built around a seven-page Sonic strip, supported by three or so other stories based on Sonic’s supporting cast or other Sega franchises. But what made the title so endearing?

With global franchises so tightly controlled by their owners, it comes as something of a shock to reflect on the situation a mere fifteen years ago. Sega Enterprises were caught on the hop by the success of Yuji Naka’s creation, allowing their global subsidiaries to handle the character as they saw fit. This divergence, with the company’s three main territories each devising their own conceptualisation and tone for the franchise, resulted in some surprisingly different interpretations. Although striving to be consistent with the other UK holders of the Sonic licence, Fleetway had authority to portray the character as they saw fit, giving their creatives a surprisingly large amount of freedom. Although a number of writers contributed to the title, Nigel Kitching and Lew Stringer were the book’s mainstays. Their differing approaches complimented each other well, with Stringer’s self-contained episodic tales punctuating Kitching’s more in-depth epics. The artistic side was more varied, but Richard Elson’s clean and energetic style deservedly secured him priority for the lead strip, which he drew for most of the book’s life.

For a title with a bi-monthly publishing schedule, reaching the fiftieth issue mark is less of an achievement than might be initially supposed. Regardless, some sort of celebration was in order, and Nigel Kitching structured his ongoing “Day of the Death Egg” main-strip saga accordingly. He and Elson here serve up a showdown between Sonic, Knuckles and fan-favourite enemy Metallix. Although the writer has expressed pride at the emotional content he was sometimes able to introduce into the series, with one character experiencing a remarkably convincing nervous breakdown, the focus here is very much on action, with most of the instalment a straight fight sequence between Super Sonic and his robotic counterpart. In an example of the surprisingly loose control which Sega displayed over the property, the book portrayed the hedgehog’s alter ego as a bloodthirsty psychopath, who here decapitates his opponent before attacking Knuckles. Kitching first played this bold stroke in the early in the book’s life, and retained the concept’s power by carefully rationing Super Sonic’s appearances. The other strips in this issue are something of a mixed bag. While the short-lived Shinobi series adds some unexpected variety to the book, the team was never really able to find a way to make Tails an interesting character in his own right, and the fox’s strip here is distinctly weak. The high point of the trio of back-up strips is the Captain Plunder series, rounding out a comedy character first introduced in the main Sonic story several issues before. The writer’s affection for his own creations is obvious, and Plunder and his crew made several appearances throughout the book’s life.

After the book had reached the five-year lifespan which Fleetway’s management had always envisaged for it, they began winding the title down, replacing back-up strips with reprints and eventually axing new content altogether. For dead licensed comic, however, it’s enjoyed a surprisingly active afterlife, and most of its creators still work in the industry today. The one exception to this, however, is Kitching. The book’s lead writer sadly never found another home for his scripting talents, and these days works mainly as an illustrator in the children’s book market.

With hindsight, the key to the book’s success lies in its ability to treat the characters as its own. Normally only licensed comics with direct input from the franchises’ original creators have the confidence to up-end concepts without descending into fan-fiction. However, Kitching and Stinger’s effective ownership of the European iteration of Mobius, together with a near-instinctive feel for the tone of the series, still leaves a warm glow in many of their readers’ minds.

It’s been a difficult run to get a handle on, primarily since the main plot has consisted of little more than Supes having a big punch-up with someone a bit stronger than him. But what this issue makes apparent is that, as with much of Robinson’s comics work, this is really about nuances, and moments. And so scattered around a fight sequence that really has far too many echoes of Doomsday to be accidental (but then, it’s hard to know exactly which ’90s Superman stories are supposed to have even happened now we’re on New Earth) are a number of scenes that suggest that maybe Robinson does have a handle on at least part of what makes a good Superman tale, even if the whole doesn’t quite convince as much as it should just yet.

Of particular note is a two-page flashback sequence with Clark and Lois at home that’s slightly cheesy but just about gets away with it (not least because it features Clark reading a paper called “The Opal City”), and an even better scene that finally deals with the unfortunate problem of having Lana Lang in charge of Lexcorp, at the same time making her far more of a character than she’s been in, ooh, decades, really. More, please. And then there’s the closing page, an utterly brilliant - and unexpected - moment that’s one of those rare “Cheer at the page!” events, and which showcases a unique but entertaining grasp of canine “dialogue”.

As I think I mentioned when reviewing the first issue of this arc, a real attraction of the book right now is the presence of Renato Guedes as artist. I’ve been championing this guy - “the new Butch Guice” as I always call him, and will continue to do so until it catches on - for a while now, and it’s great seeing him really cut loose on a character that it feels like he was born to draw. While issue-long fight sequences tend to bore me a bit (and this one has gone on for two), it’s well-choreographed, and indeed rather brutal at times. It’s also great to see his more unconventional take on Supergirl given some prominence, and we can only hope that this interpretation catches on a bit more with other artists. One slight criticism is a sequence on the penultimate page which is a little unclearly-told - Steel and Bibbo either suddenly appearing from nowhere or instead being a poorly-conveyed piece of metaphor - but generally this is a lovely-looking book. Indeed, with this and Action Comics - and, if you care to count it, All-Star - the Superman books as a line look better than they have done in years, perhaps even better than any other current DC line.

It’s not perfect, and it certainly feels like the last two issues could just as easily have been told in one - but there’s a definite sense that Robinson is working on a return to proper, classic-style Superman storytelling; and this, combined with his use of character strokes, is making it a pretty decent read so far.

It’s a reasonable story, although a key plot point of Xavier psychically manipulating Summers to attend their meeting is rather forced. Given the exchanges between these two characters in Messiah Complex, it’s hard to believe that Xavier would regard this as a good idea, and this nagging difficulty undermines much of the discussion that follows. This issue does provide a good summary of the disagreements which have arisen between the two men, and the central idea of an introspective professor interrupting Cyclops’ construction of the new X-base is a clever metaphor for the character’s limited relevance to the franchise as it stands. There’s little that is genuinely new here, but as part one of this particular episode in the Legacy storyline, it’s a reasonable decision by the writer to leave the resolution of these issues to next month.

As I mentioned earlier, the main problem with the title is the secondary story strands which serve to advance plots which the Professor will undoubtedly encounter later. As usual, we are given snippets of Sebastian Shaw and Rogue’s doings, gradually advancing each of their stories. Instead of skilful foreshadowing, chunks of a later story are artificially broken off and served up in advance. Carey is obviously trying to mimic Ed Brubaker’s work on Captain America, but the multiple elements here are much less organic, interrupting the action without ever feeling a part of the same story. Another weakness concerns the villain whose “Legacy” the title of the book now appears to refer to. While most of the X-men’s core villains have grown intellectually over the last one hundred issues or so of the franchise, Sinister hasn’t really been developed, staying true to his early nineties Saturday-morning cartoon persona. The character sorely needs depth to be convincing, and there’s yet no sign of it being supplied here. Just as Grant Morrison tore down Magneto and Peter Miligan & Fabian Nicieza retooled Apocalypse, Essex sorely needs adjustment before he can fit with the franchise as it stands. Carey is obviously having fun playing with the character’s impact on the X-Men’s history, but the book is undeniably limited by being built around such a two-dimensional element.

The first comic I got was Claude TC’s adaptation of “The Island of Dr. Moreau,” which recasts the lead as a teenage slacker and his hit-man friend. It won my attention largely for the fruit polos reference on the first page, and I was easily convinced to buy the second part straight away as well. The idea of retelling the story in this way really appealed to me, and having only vague memories of the original it’s a nice way to revisit the material a little. I’d actually be interested in seeing other books given similar treatment. The artwork is very strong with a large variety of characters and locales rendered expertly. While part 1 is all fairly slow, the action really gets flying in part 2, and it’s here the artwork really comes into its own. Issue #2 does end on a cliffhanger, so I’ll be looking forward to seeing what comes next in issue #3. The series doesn’t appear to be mentioned much on the Gronk Comics website, but the lead characters are taken from his other series, Reckless Youth.

Paul B Rainey’s “Dear Robert and Partner” is a semi-autobiographical comic about writing a letter to a noisy neighbour. It’s a topic that, in the months before we moved house, I became more than an expert on, as the flat above ours was being renovated and the dude, for some reason, felt like 11:30pm was the perfect hour to do some hammering. But I digress. The narrative is held together by the letter, while events surrounding it unfold in 3-panel chunks beneath the text. It’s a nice experiment that works really well, though the ending falls a little flat because it feels like there’s no real conclusion to the letter or the associated story, which, in a way, is the danger of autobiographical comics - life goes on, and episodes rarely conclude in a satisfying way, which can negatively impact the narrative sometimes. Besides that, it’s a good, personal read, a little different from the usual comics, and that’s what’s great about self-published material.

From Douglas Noble, I purchased 2005’s Strip for Me #18 which contains a rather experimental story called “The Space Between Worlds.” The title attracted me to this particular issue, I think. Noble takes an unusual approach to comics, juxtaposing visual and textual narrative without fully integrating them. The detached, abstract romance of the story leads me to compare it to this year’s Xbox LIVE must-buy Braid as a similar psychological experience - or at least as similar as comics and gaming can get. It’s to Noble’s credit that with 16 pictures on each page, and 20 pages of story that every thumbnail image appears individually composed. It’s a nice dense read that you can really spend a lot of time digesting, and while I can’t speak for the usual anthology format of the title, this one was a pleasant surprise to pick up.

Elsewhere, Marc Ellerby had brought along his new mini-comic, an odds-and-ends compilation called Sad Girls For Life. I was well-pleased with the purchases I made off Ellerby at Bristol earlier this year - Speed Trail and Ellerbisms V1 and have been following his on-line comics ever since. This collection opens with what Ellerby describes as a “stupid zombie comic” called “Morning has Broken” from 2004, featuring a more dynamic, angular look to his artwork reminiscent (in a good way) of Jim Mahfood, or the more insane strips you used to find in Sonic The Comic. It continues with other short comics drawn over the last few years, including some unprinted Ellerbism’s and some rarer Polar Opposites, which are always fantastic, especially the one in which he argues with the acerbic Penguin 2 about the star power of Penguins. It’s like Pokey the Penguin, only more coherent.

Sad Girls for Life is a brilliant taster for all of Ellerby’s work, and easily the most entertaining comic purchase I made all weekend - and that includes 2 week’s worth of Marvel/DC comics. Ellerby is currently between series following the conclusion of Oni Press’ “Love the Way You Love” for which he was the artist, so now more than ever you need to get to his site and buy some quality mini-comics - SGFL isn’t up yet, so while you wait for that to appear in the on-line shop, why not go for the Ellerbisms or Polar Opposites collection?

Lastly, I got myself one of those coveted Gillen/McKelvie Phonogram T-Shirts. Jamie didn’t actually have any minicomics to sell, he was just flogging copies of the Image-published Phonogram/Suburban Glamour trades which I already own. By the standards of this event, that makes him a complete sellout, and frankly I’m surprised they let him in at all. Possibly it was because he was handing out those excellent Phonogram 2: The Singles Club postcards for free, one of which I took for myself, and another of which I left displayed prominently in Camden Tube Station, because that’s about as Street Team as I’m getting. Phonogram 2 is out in December, and until then you should also have read Phonogram: Rue Brittania and Suburban Glamour.

Having maxed out both finances and body temperature (Camden market hall is nothing if not RIDICULOUSLY HOT) I took my leave. From where I was, LED looked like a massive success - I turned up quite late in the afternoon and the place was still packed solid, and encouragingly it appears to attract people far less likely to get into a comic shop or convention under their own steam. Certainly worth trip for any London-based comics fan, though, for a taste of Bristol/Birmingham right in your own back garden.

Now, for whatever reason, Runaways returns not with #31 of Volume 2, but for #1 of Volume 3. Presumably the hope is that the constant critical buzz surrounding the series will translate to increasing popularity at the start of each subsequent volume. Moore is a writer ideally-placed to handle the characters, and while he might not have the current popularity of Whedon or Vaughan, there’s no denying that he’s a strong writer with the required ability and experience to keep the title gaining profile the old-fashioned way.

Moore’s story has the kids returning to LA and finding a new Pride base. The realities of being kids on the run are addressed, as Chase looks for employment while the rest of the gang heads out for a spot of retail therapy. Unfortunately, it’s all interrupted when aliens come looking for Karolina. The story plays well to the cast, and continues developing the themes that Runaways has been built on. Ramos’ artwork is well-suited for the youthful cast, and while he’s a polarising figure, it’s hard to argue with his energy - every panel is crammed full of action and expression.

Whedon and Ryan’s delays do appear to have caused some problems for the relaunch. It’s very hard to say for certain, but it feels almost as if Moore was writing this well before the conclusion to Whedon’s story was known - witness Klara’s apparent retroactive insertion into some panels, and the cover - though to be fair that may have been a spoiler prevention measure. If nothing else, her personality is far removed from the timid young girl we saw her introduced as, an alteration for which Moore and Ramos equally share the burden. Elsewhere, the revelation that Xavin’s default form is now “female” must have been entirely missed by Moore and Ramos, though it could be that it hadn’t actually been decided at the time of writing.

Despite the new team and new #1, Runaways still feels like the same comic it’s always been, and while the  long-term effects of the creative change remain to be seen, it’s off to a promising start. Whether the story is likely to keep any new readers the numbering attracted is debatable, but certainly old readers will find themselves right at home with the new volume.

Except that it doesn’t. By resolving the burning questions behind what can only be described as the slowest-paced crossover ever written - and doing so in a satisfying, single-issue chunk, New Avengers benefits massively from Secret Invasion. The idea of two separate Avengers titles has been all but abandoned during this period, but of the two, New Avengers is just about delivering the better stories.

In this issue, we find ourselves reading about a clone of Reed Richards, and it’s revealed how the Skrulls managed to improve their ability to hide. Even though we know we’re reading about a bio-duplicate, readers will really understand Reed Richard’s turmoil as if it was the real one. Clones with all the memories of the original are fairly dubious pseudo-science at the best of times, but it fits with the Skrull capabilities already established in Secret Invasion, and it brilliantly uses the Skrull’s inherent sneakiness to achieve their aims - they’re not smart enough to invent the technology they need, but they’re more than crafty enough to trick someone else into doing it for them.

Tan’s artwork falls somewhere between Marvel’s current realist house-style and Yu’s scratchier, looser look, with a little Jim Lee mixed in. A run on X-Men obviously rubbed off on Tan, because he draws a great Professor Xavier, though in general only Reed’s interrogation scenes work as well as one suspects he’s capable of.

Once again, Bendis delivers another must-read piece of the Secret Invasion puzzle, and delivers a great Fantastic Four story that makes the most of the chance to push Reed in directions that the real one can’t go. Just try not to think about what the series title on the cover is and you’ll get along with it nicely.

Our occasional trip through DC crossoverville now brings us to Millennium, the 1987/88 event that has bafflingly recently been collected in trade form (while the far superior likes of Armageddon 2001 are spoken of in the same breath as Marvel’s Clone Saga). Before DC had hit upon the technique of setting these annual crossovers’ in the respective books’ annuals, with individual tales that were largely standalone but at least followed the theme of the crossover, such events would tend to simply weave their entire narrative through a limited miniseries and various spin-off books. It’s not a hugely satisfying way of doing things, especially when the story is as weak as this (basically, the Manhunters are a bunch of red robotty things created by the Guardians of the Universe as a first attempt to run an “intergalactic police force” - the second attempt being the Green Lantern Corps. Manhunters now attacking the Guardians as well as Earth, yadda yadda yadda, secret sleeper agents planted among the supporting cast of various DC books in a Secret Invasionish kind of way, etc. etc.).

But as with all crossovers, it’s not like you can’t get decent issues out of it, depending on the creative teams at their time. Giffen, deMatteis and Maguire were at the absolute height of their Justice League powers at this point, and the curious thing about this issue - which sees a group of heroes, some of whom are current JL members, some former, mounting an assault on the Manhunters’ homeworld - is that it gives us the opportunity to see how they would have coped had they been allowed to have A-list characters in their team (in addition to JLI members J’onn J’onnz and Captain Atom, the team here includes Superman, Hal Jordan and Hawkman/Hawkwoman).

And the answer is… very well, as it happens. In the absence of characters like Blue Beetle and Guy Gardner, there’s less in the way of laugh-out-loud, outright character comedy. But deMatteis’ dialogue still absolutely zings, and there are a lot of character moments to enjoy. Most notably, there’s an excellent portrayal of the relationship between the two Hawks (Shayera having a blast, Katar grumpily wondering “why everyone feels so compelled to make jokes all the time”), but there are great little lines dotted throughout. Superman gets played entirely straight, of course, but his earnestness is used playfully rather than being made fun of.

The other thing the issue is notable for is the introduction of probably Giffen/deMatteis’ most famous creation - the woefully underqualified, walking catastrophe of a Green Lantern known as G’Nort. Despite the fact that his design hadn’t really been nailed down yet - he’s more “furry bloke” than out-and-out “walking dog” - he’s great fun in his first two-page appearance, cheerfully telling Katma Tui (apropos of nothing) that “They don’t even have a john in here!”, while being saluted by Superman for his bravery in taking on the manhunters alone (”By the way… uh… what’s a manhunter?”). It also draws some great comedy out of the usually-strait-laced Jordan: “Do you really think it’s fair, calling him a yo-yo?” “Believe me, Superman - I’m being kind.”

Topping it all off, as ever in the early part of the JLI run, is Kevin Maguire’s excellent art. Right from the first time I read this - and we’re talking almost twenty years ago, here - it made me think what a great job he’d do on a main Superman title, as he gets the character spot-on with a very Christopher Reeve-esque interpretation. He and colourist Gene D’Angelo also cope well with the storytelling handicap of having to draw almost an entire issue against a yellow background (the Manhunters having built their homeworld specifically to defend against Green Lanterns).

Despite being hampered by the constraints of a slightly naff crossover, team JLI were still able to turn out great comics. If anything, it’s only a shame that they were only given some of these characters for one issue - although, of course, you’d never want to trade Beetle, Booster and Guy for anybody. Nowadays, though, this particular issue still stands up well - it’s a little jarring if you try to just read it in sequence with the rest of JLI, but as a part of Millennium itself, it was by far the standout moment.

While her compatriots in the monthly title are facing the twin threats of a rampaging super-skrull and some shockingly poor artwork, Layla Miller remains in the distopian future glimpsed during Messiah Complex. After a short introduction set in an interment camp, the bulk of the story charts Miller’s journey across America, igniting a mutant rights uprising, almost accidentally, as she goes. All the stapes of a standard Days of Future Past comics world are found here; the children of present day characters, the shadow of a dark time ahead and an aged & mutilated present day hero living out his final days. Peter David prevents his tale from feeling clichéd, however, by actually rounding out this world from what was seen of it in last year’s crossover. We are shown people being able to live relatively normal lives, and an active debate in progress about the body politic.

What sells the storyline is David’s longevity as a writer. While the likes of Mike Carey would be left looking rather fan-ish if they revived some elements of the franchise, David’s use of ideas he was present for the gestation of somehow feels more acceptable, as he forges links between his previous X-Factor work and the title’s present incarnation. Besides, it’s always a pleasure to see David writing for Miller. A sharp break in tradition from the franchise’s Destiny/ Blindfold eccentric soothsayers, the teen feels both comfort and confinement from knowing how “stuff” will turn out, and there’s an interesting character moment when the latter overwhelms her, slightly increasing her credibility.

The story could quite easily just be a fun day out for Peter David with the character he’s made his own, but the emphasis the issue’s advance publicity placed on the Summers Rebellion elements suggests that the events here will mesh into the tapestry that the X-titles are becoming. Messiah Complex suggested that time travel will play a considerable part in the X-Men’s lives over the next few months, and it’s not hard to foresee the likes of Cable or Bishop having to pick up the pieces from the events here. Until that day, fortunately, this is one special that can stand on its own feet.