The first, and indeed, most probably last annual-sized outing for Captain Britain and MI-13 sees Cornell doing a rare and welcome thing with the format, following up a previous story while springboarding another one out of it. It’s always a welcome effort when the stories in annuals feel relevant – after all, they cost a lot, and there’s ample space for a story, so why not tell one that’s actually special? Cornell, at least, gets that, using this annual to deliver two memorable tales. The first re-introduces Meggan, Cap’s oft-absent wife, and the second doing a new spin on Claremont’s old X-Men baseball games as the Brits gather round for – of course – a spot of cricket.

Now, that aside, this is actually one of the weakest MI-13 stories to date. Re-introducing Meggan means giving us her life story, and the recap is tied-in with her current attempts to get out of Hell, where she’s been trapped following her encounter with Plotka. The flashback and present events don’t mesh particularly well, and the explanation of Meggan’s powers and personality don’t come across well – at least for some like me, who is almost entirely unfamiliar with the character. It’s hard to believe that her presence in Hell could be so effective, and nothing in the book convincingly explains why it should be. The story does end with an effective twist and an unlikely yet appropriate guest star, but the cliffhanger ending doesn’t feel particularly satisfying – Collins’ art is the only part of the strip that really delights.

The next story is a tad better, as the MI-13 crew indulge in a spot of cricket. It’s light and throaway, the characterisation comes through and Cornell even works in the phrase “weak lemon drink” in a move guaranteed to delight about 6 people worldwide, three of whom write for this website. The thing that prevents the story from being really good is Alphona’s artwork. Characters are misshapen and distended in a way that defies mere considerations of stylistics, becoming outright ugly. Worse yet, done up in cricket garb, it’s hard to even see who some characters are.

So, between two rather weak stories, we’ve actually ended up with the worst Captain Britain issue since the series restarted. A pity, given that it’s also the most expensive. The annual’s heart is in the right place, but sadly, it’s ultimately hard to recommend due to its technical failings.

We’re often wary of being too repetitive on Comics Daily, and of needlessly covering the same books month in, month out – but this is a point that bears making over and over again (not just by us, but by comics reviewers everywhere) until enough people (not just you lot, but comics readers everywhere) get the point : if you’re only reading one mainstream action comic at the moment, it should probably be Captain Britain.

I mean, sure, you might not be particularly bothered about a story that features a Dracula-led horde of vampires as its main villain threat, even if it’s riddled with particularly inspired moments of messing with the classic tropes (Cornell drawing on his old Doctor Who novel Goth Opera for the likes of “vampire missiles” and sleeper agents detonated by holy water). You may not even be as bothered about someone taking British superheroes seriously as we all are. But how can you not want to read effortlessly breezy, action-packed, well-paced (older hands could take lessons from Cornell in how to write a team book without skewing the weight towards or away from any of the cast in particular), at times witty and at times equally emotionally engaging, character-strong drama? If those attributes don’t appeal to you, then are you even in the right medium?

We’re into the second part of a story here, which means we’re in the “uh oh, things are getting even worse than we’d thought” phase – but there’s still time for a particularly inventive bit of heroism on the part of Faiza, Cornell’s imagination stretching to something genuinely unexpected while his storytelling throws in an uncharacteristic but well-pitched prose section. The issue’s let down a touch by some more fill-in artwork from Mike Collins – he’s not dreadful as fill-ins go, and I’d certainly rather this than have the book delayed, but it’s much more of a jarring shift away from the continually superb Kirk’s style than when he stepped in for issue #9; and I don’t know if it was a deliberate choice or if he’s just been drawing DWM strips for too long, but throwing David Tennant into the book, sideburns and all, drags the reader out of the story somewhat.

If I’ve any real criticism of the series, though (and it’s about as qualified as criticism gets – make no mistake, I have more affection for these characters and this title than just about anything else in mainstream comics right now), it’s in the use of old Cap himself. Okay, I know that the book is really just MI13 in all but name, and that Pete Wisdom is really the lead character – and the book does work tremendously well as a supernatural military-intelligence-based action-adventure. And it’s not like Brian hasn’t had a fair few great “civilian” moments, including in the first two parts of the story. But come on, you give him an awesome new costume, you put him front-and-centre on covers such as Stuart Immonen’s utterly wonderful effort this month, you go to the trouble of establishing (in the closing parts of the first storyarc) that he can be taken seriously as a proper superhero… so any chance we could we have him, dare I say it, kicking a little bit more arse a bit more often?

After coming sharply into focus last month, “Hell Comes to Birmingham” delivers a predictably compelling conclusion. Particularly impressive is the fact that this cast remain interesting even now that many of the teething troubles from their introductions are being overcome. With one notable exception, MI13 is starting to act as a coherent unit, while never sacrificing the individuality of its characters.

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There’s only one word that can be used to describe Pete Wisdom’s reaction to the betrayal of his team by Captain Midlands: miffed. Meanwhile, the solution to Captain Britain’s problems comes from an unexpected source, as Alistaire “Gordon Lethbridge” Stewart takes an unusually direct role in the action. There are a number of the standout moments that this book does so well, with Wisdom coming out slightly ahead in his monthly quote-ability contest with the title character. What makes the greatest impression this issue, however, is the return of the steeliness that sometimes comes through in Paul Cornell’s writing. Just was there was no forgiveness for the anti-Semitic Not-Us in Xtnct, Pete Wisdom’s angry condemnation of the cowardly towerbock residents blazes from the page. There’s just as much fury, although slightly more pity, in the treatment of Sid Riley, who will hopefully be allowed his shot at redemption before too long. Even more heartrending is the treatment of Megan, whose fate casts even more of a gloom over the conclusion of the arc.

This superficial character emphasis masks a cleverly structured title. Instead of artificially forcing a cliffhanger onto the end of this arc, Cornell has cleverly threaded the true nature of the Black Knight’s sword through the story as a whole, and it feels natural that it’ll be this plotline that propels the book forwards. On the artistic side, a mention is due to Mike Collins, who does a superb job of easing regular penciller Leonard Kirk’s workload in this issue. His work is far removed form his recent art for Doctor Who Magazine’s strip, with a subtly of expression and a steadiness of linework not found in his output on that title. It’s hard to say whether the artist has adapted his style for his return to a mainstream superhero book or has benefited from more sympathetic inking, but the end result is superb. Kirk also delivers his usual sterling work, never allowing the clarity of storytelling to fade despite handling an extremely challenging sequence where Wisdom encounters layer upon layer of illusion.

It’s comforting to see that Marvel’s support for the book isn’t waning, with Stuart Immonen taking over the role of “big-name cover artist”. Braddock and co deserve to be with us for quite some time.

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.

So, for better or worse, they’re bringing back Barry Allen (at least, they appear to be – I’m writing this the day before Final Crisis #1 is due to hit, so I’ve no idea what’s actually contained within its pages). If so, one of the most pivotal moments in comics history, the death of the DC Universe’s “first saint”, will have been undone. And since the “random” element of this weekly feature went out of the window a while back, let’s once again do something a bit topical, and take a look at the story of the second Flash’s original demise.

But rather than tackling Crisis on Infinite Earths #8, the issue in which Allen actually died, I thought I’d take a look at this Secret Origins annual from a few years later – as it’s a story contained within its pages that I feel really set the Flash’s death in stone as a classic comics moment – and, what’s more, created an iconic image that any potential resurrection would surely step all over (unless they use Marv Wolfman’s rather excellent loophole – but then, who am I to predict the actions of Grant Morrison?)

As was par for the course with the Secret Origins annuals, there are actually two fairly sizeable stories contained within. We’ll skim over the first one, though, partly because it’s concerned with Wally West rather than Barry Allen, and partly because it’s not all that great. Wally’s visiting his psychiatrist, grumbling about the fact that his powers aren’t what they were, and basically relays his life story, explores his guilt over not being the hero that he should be in Barry’s footsteps, and repeats ad nauseam that his Dad turned out to be a Manhunter in the then-recent Millennium crossover (hey! We’ve not done one of those yet, have we? Maybe next time!) His psychiatrist is a bit of a tosser, to be honest, and Wally comes off like one too. Despite the nostalgia trip, it’s therefore not a hugely enjoyable read, and really serves only to emphasise how ludicrous in concept and origin Kid Flash always was. There’s also an attempt to add gravitas with a shoehorned-in link to Rudyard Kipling’s If… that feels desperately out of place.

The second half of the issue is somewhat better, however, and revels in its Silver Age origins, as Robert Loren Fleming takes us on an appropriately speedy trip through Barry Allen’s life, with artwork by the man who kickstarted it all in the first place – the great Carmine Infantino. The first section is the standard origin tale, lifted from the original story in Showcase #4, but adding in certain thematic elements to be re-used later (most notably involving thunderbolts). The second part is a fairly typical adventure with the Rogues Gallery, again providing a thematic link by virtue of the “human thunderbolt” villain. All of this is good, Silver Age style fun, and rattles along at an enjoyable pace.

But it’s the third part, which ties everything together and links it with Allen’s death in Crisis, that really impresses. Rather than simply having the Flash run so fast that he causes the Anti-Monitor’s doomsday weapon to disintegrate (as happened in the original Crisis issue), we instead see that his goal was to outpace and catch the tachyon particle that fired said weapon – and which moves faster than the speed of light. Allen was therefore forced to break the light barrier in order to catch it – and this caused his body to disintegrate and him to become a being of pure light. This is what caused the “trip back through time” that we saw originally (with Barry showing up in visions to various characters in the past) – but in this version, it culminates in Barry returning to the scene of his original accident… as the very lightning bolt that caused him to become the Flash in the first place.

Alright, so it’s perhaps a little hackneyed. But it’s a lovely moment, and the entire thing is well-constructed – we can well believe that Barry’s entire life and career were structured from the beginning to lead to that instant – and the idea that he gets to endlessly live the greatest years of his life out over and over throughout infinity is, you feel, a fitting reward for the sacrifice the character made in Crisis. It’s a superb capstone for the second Flash – not least because of the fact that Infantino isn’t just there to add nostalgia, but turns in some genuinely dynamic work even at this late stage in his career – and it’s one that Morrison (and DC editorial in general) would do well to be aware of if they do end up adding Barry to the near-endless list of famous comics resurrections.

Incidentally, just as a quick note about the time period in which this book was released – there are full page adverts contained within for two series “coming soon” from DC. One is for Morrison’s Animal Man run, and the other is an absolutely beautiful David Lloyd piece promoting the DC version of V for Vendetta. What a time to be alive, eh?