By Clyde Hall — “There are 492* billionaires in the United States, and not one of those losers has decided to become Batman!” The meme’s been around for a tick, so adjusted for accuracy the U.S. billionaire count is now 724. Which helps emphasize the point writers Mark Russell and Bryce Ingman make in their My Bad series, while they simultaneously carve a major comic book cash cow into satirical sirloins. It’s a spotlight onto the kind of individual who achieves and maintains that lofty financial status, and how their principles and personality might not make for the best street knight, dark or light.

This isn’t a surprising avenue for Russell’s craft. The biting barbs of titles like Billionaire Island and the sense of superhero fun in such series as Wonder Twins proves he’s adept wringing humor from both. Russell’s current work on One-Star Squadron is Exhibit A that he can combine the two targets for a co-lampooning. Consider his My Bad contribution Exhibit B. And his previous collaborations with Ingman show they’re appropriately kindred spirits for this scripting journey. In My Bad #5 they flex their conjoined muses with a mirthful showdown between Gravel City’s beacon of justice, The Chandelier, and the criminal minor-mind Emperor King.

In previous issues we became acquainted with Jamington Winthrop, light fixture fortune heir and business magnate who secretly battles crime as masked vigilante The Chandelier. Not because he was the victim of crime run amok or anything so dramatic. More because he inherited a fortune, parlayed it into a bigger fortune, and now seeks the occasional thrill in a life free of the concerns that plague unwashed throngs of regular people. He’s not exactly championing their cause in his costumed identity. In fact, normal people are mostly a mild, abstract curiosity for Jamington. And not nearly as important as trending. Being popular. Especially more popular, than the alien super-speed champion called the Accelerator. Jamington’s also concerned, after being gifted a salad shooter from Emperor King on his birthday, that the villain has somehow fathomed The Chandelier’s true identity.

Emperor King is described as a trust fund baby turned villain. His archnemesis is the Accelerator, partly because the alien came to earth with nothing and has become not only a darling defender of humankind, but also runs a booming fast food chicken franchise. In addition, the Accelerator considers EK’s hairbrained criminal attempts at prestige and relevance a joke, one he happily turns into humiliating punchlines for the would-be archcriminal. Publicly — early, and often.

Others in the character cast include Winthrop’s long-suffering gentleman’s gentleman Yates; Rush Hour, a minor superhero using his powers of flight and breath blasts in helping motorists and keeping roads clear of debris; a buddy-to-brute shapeshifter called Manchild; villainous felinoid Lion L. Richie; and social media assassin Insta-Graham.

In #5, Emperor King continues helping a recuperating Rush Hour, who was badly injured after falling into an EK deathtrap meant for the Accelerator. Their association and Rush Hour’s compassionate, humble heroics have brought a positive change in the villain’s outlook. In fact, the two of them make plans for honoring Accelerator, the alien superhero suffering an untimely demise offworld issues ago, by planning a traffic safety initiative in his memory.

The dedication ceremony is interrupted by The Chandelier, his paranoia over the possible revelation of his secret identity by Emperor King at last leading to a direct confrontation! Chandelier’s assembled a group of costumed cohorts for the showdown with EK in pitched combat before the citizens of Gravel City! Except, as with most conflicts in the title, it isn’t exactly a colossus clash shaking the pillars of heaven. More like upturning an endcap at 7-Eleven.

The Chandelier proves once again that he’s his own archenemy, his final plight and Emperor King’s part in it more than chuckle-worthy. Amidst those laughs, Russell and Ingman make worthwhile observations about the monetized, the meek, true heroism, and our own prideful pratfalls.

Spoofing superhero genres while adding that heartfelt scrutiny, the sort carrying a clear note of sadness for the human condition, is not the usual delivery system for either. But it’s a Russell trademark and it’s one of his greatest narrative gifts. No one’s entirely good nor evil in this four-color spandex opera. And those most convinced of their superiority and entitlement to elevated status often cause the most harm, just as in reality.

There’s a satisfying subtext in this issue as well, one about coping with difficult days. In the midst of our greatest defeats and frustrations, it’s ultimately the friends we’ve made (and sometimes shamefully taken for granted) who model the forgiving kindness which heals. They’re the sources of our happier endings as well as our more promising beginnings.

Enroute to such reflective conclusions, we get more humor mileage from the ongoing faux letter column, another spoof of vintage comic book ads shown less than advisable for the modern world, and two epilogue pieces readying the next My Bad series: A text tale called ‘Finite Crisis’, and ‘A Surprise Post-Credits Scene’ page. Because remember, gentle reader, this is the foundation formation of the Important New Superhero Universe!

The art styles of both Peter Krause and Joe Orsak have the right nostalgic appeal of simpler comics eras. They tap straight into the sensibilities of colorful crime lords and the crusaders who fought them, gently turning up the visual absurdity with generous applications of disco-ball battle suits and acid-flinging chimps. The colors by Paul Little support their artistic approach by adding a yesteryear sheen. These heroes and villains wear over-the-top costumes, not uniforms, and this art team doesn’t allow us to forget it for even a second.

Rob Steen’s lettering work on items outside the dialogue boxes, things like social media screens and business logos for Winthrop Lamps and baloney sandwich shops, helps cement #5 in its goofy, off-plumb brand of classic comics reality. The sound effects fonts of giant celebrity balloons getting punctured and of super garlicky breath blasts being unleashed reinforces the issue’s risible raucousness.

There’s risk in combining the satire with more contemplative portions of a series. Some readers loving the broad, hilarious swipes at comic book tropes and vaunted cowled institutions may find any sobering of the mood a distraction. Without question, Ingman and Russell could have made this a purely comedic romp. Their ability to blend humor and pathos as they manage in #5, though, is akin to welcome humor in a dramatic, even tragic storyline. For most, it will enhance the comedy with insights about the medium itself, about the fallible power fantasy appeal of superheroes, and about us. About the better human beings lurking within us all.

Overall: With My Bad #5 you’ll laugh, you’ll sniffle, you may even laugh ‘til you tear up. But if you’ve cackled at the Hopeless Fruit Pies ads, felt giddy looking upon lamp-themed crimefighting wonder weapons, or accepted the ‘Draw the Turtle Pirate Challenge’ in previous installments, don’t miss the final chapter of this series! 8/10

My Bad #5

My Bad #5
Writers: Mark Russell and Bryce Ingman
Artists: Peter Krause and (Back-Up) Joe Orsak
Colorist: Paul Little
Letterer: Rob Steen
Publisher: AHOY Comics
Price: $3.99
Last chance to get in on the ground floor of the important new superhero universe - or regret it for the rest of your worthless life! See: Tragic death! All-out fighting! Flashing lights! Fast food! The climactic showdown between The Chandelier and Emperor King! All this and our fake-friendly letters page! Caution: Heads will explode! KA-WHAAAM! BOOOOM!.
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Clyde Hall (He/Him) lives in Southern Illinois. He’s an Elder Statesman of Geekery, an indie author, a comics fan/reviewer, and a contributing writer at Stormgate Press. He’s on twitter at: (@CJHall1984)