X-Force Killshot Anniversary Special #1 Exposes Liefeld’s Feet of Clay

Cable gets the old team(s) back together to take on a deadly future threat the future in X-Force Killshot Anniversary Special #1. Featuring story and pencils by Rob Liefeld, script by Chad Bowers, Bryan Valenza, Federico Blee and Mirza Wirawan on colors; Joe Sabino is on letters.

If you wanted to celebrate the 30th anniversary of X-Force – the ground-breaking “the kids have grown up and don’t agree with dad’s take on mutant liberation” comic series spanning 1991-2001 – with a dirge masquerading as a fight song, then X-Force Killshot Anniversary Special #1 is for you.

Really, though, it seems like the comic isn’t for anyone except Rob Liefeld.

An anniversary generally celebrates the passage of time – the necessary growth, change and evolution of heart and mind and purpose over the years – but in this special, there isn’t a whiff of legacy. It’s action-figure play captured in image with words uneasily propping up the structure, presented with grandeur. Featuring almost exclusively Liefeld-created characters with a story so broadly sketched it barely holds shape, it’s an adventure stubbornly locked in its own box. 

The plot is simple: Cable needs to stop Stryfe (conveniently alive) and the Mutant Liberation Front from ‘unleashing hell on Earth’ because the future tells him it will happen.

To fight them off, he forms a team of his best and brightest. Multiple Cables, Major X’s and Shatterstars, along with an assortment of Dominos (one resembles her cinematic counterpart as played by Zazie Beetz); a Warpath and a Cannonball; The Thing; and cavalcade of Deadpools (including a Venompool and a Dreadpool). He takes three whole pages of introductory headshot panels to introduce the gimmick. The differences are minimal and so is the interaction between the varied selves, granting the idea only diminishing returns.

Cable says “This isn’t about justice,” and it isn’t a rescue mission, either; he calls it an extraction. An uncomplicated, straightforward kill-shot. No depth, no nuance, no growth. We can’t say we didn’t know what we were getting.

Plus, In a recent interview with Forbes Liefeld told us what to expect: he described the special as “candy,” clarified himself as a creator much more interested in the visual than how it intersects with related elements, and promised that by converging characters from five different timelines to take down Stryfe, he’d litter the pages with multiple versions of the same character. He called it “the ultimate nostalgia bomb.” 

There’s surprisingly little about it that’s nostalgic. Despite opening with art and story centred on Cable, it’s Major X – a character introduced in 2019 (the actual first appearance is subject to petty debate) – is given the honor of narrating the action. The newest and least-developed character on the docket, it’s hard to feel connected to his view of the story or to want to spend time with him as he draws our attention to the stakes and comments on the shape of the fight. That an X-Force anniversary gives the catalyzing gift of holding the story to someone who isn’t a member of X-Force – and then lets him have a heroic arc to boot, the clearest and best-told one in the 36-page book –  reminds us that X-Force isn’t the focus: Liefeld is. His is the legacy we are supposed to feel the most deeply; his newest and shiniest character supposed to burn the brightest.

And the comic refuses to look back, take stock, and celebrate itself. Cable makes a brief nod to his son Tyler, and to current X-Men continuity (though his appearance, demeanor and characterisation bear no further discernible ties to the Cable currently featured in the era). Characters don’t reference old battles or swap war stories from X-Force history. Friends, frenemies, variant selves and ex-lovers ignore all bonds and treat each other as colleagues. Soldiers for hire. Cannonball makes a brief reference to fighting like old times but is quickly shot down, and one Shatterstar makes a brief comment about the now-embarrassing zeal of a different version of himself, but considering his vehemence in insisting that Shatterstar isn’t gay despite a longstanding canon relationship with another man, it feels like a coded slight. That Stryfe makes an unnecessary joke about Shatterstar hitting on him only makes it more so.

And then there’s who the story excludes, even while drawing them into the fray. Across all versions of herself, Domino, the only woman in the comic, has exactly four lines: in one, she calls out a warning and is told she isn’t needed; in another, she speaks admiringly about Cable’s skills across worlds. The other two are included in the introductory section of the book. She is not featured in any of the many one-on-one fight scenes; she battles in the background. 

Warpath isn’t granted a single word. 

But don’t worry, there’s still plenty of room for Deadpool to crack wise about Oprah and in-line skates.

Certainly, fans of Liefeld’s purest qualities, like his impatience for prose, his devotion to his aggressive and deeply recognisable artwork, his habit of favouring spectacle above all, will be pleased; the colours are earthy and grounded; eyes glow and lips curl in aggressive snarls; costumes are massive in the shoulder and tight in the crotch; panels are thickly outlined and the action spills over, impossible to contain. It’s busy and brash. It’s as expected.

Perhaps the truest force of nostalgia here, the one that lingers once the comic has reached its end, is for what’s missing. For the parts of X-Force created with and around Liefeld’s significant contribution.  When I remember X-Force, I think of camaraderie, coming-of-age, and complex, operatic histories; the wry resignation, grim determination, and cheekily-peppered-in jokes from X-Force co-creator and scripter Fabian Nicieza; the moments of conflict and character that saw the team rise above individual, workmanlike instinct and join together to seek meaning in their missions.

Reader, I was deeply nostalgic for meaning.