The Cyclopes hunger for dripping human flesh, the fishmen thirst for widows’ sorrow and the wizards gather genocidal spells. But our protector, Storm, is nowhere to be found. She doesn’t want to be found. For her heart aches and bleeds for a lost love. Storm: Earth’s Mightiest Mutant #5 is written by Murewa Ayodele, drawn by Federica Mancin, colored by Java Tartaglia and lettered by Travis Lanham.
By all accounts, I should despise this, the fifth and final issue of Storm: Earth’s Mightiest Mutant.
All of the extravagant, winding storylines, some of which have woven in and out of the book at such a pace it’s hard to keep hold, come to an abrupt stop — so abrupt that one might call it unsatisfying.
I don’t, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
So much has come to a head and, at the end, all of it is dispensed with a quip:
Storm Wins.
One imagines an announcer in a fighting game speaking these words, as Storm stands over her vanquished opponents. In fact, the final page shows her triumphant among the ruins her winding adventure has wrought. And while this victory feels pyrrhic, still, as I’ve been told (and sometimes need to tell myself over and over again) — a win is a win.
Her long-teased “daughter” turns out to be little more than a red herring, an alternative universe MacGuffin who has the power to allow narratively convenient transversal among dimensions — no development, no memorable impact other than the idea that she exists.
This lack of detail extends beyond her progeny: The Storm Sanctuary remains largely an undefined mystery; her separation from friends (who show up at random and disappear just as quickly) remains unexplained. There is so much that’s been added and alluded to in this run, much of it feels haphazard at best and unintentional at worst — just a list of accomplishments, dalliances and achievements.
So again, given how hard I’ve been on this comic, given the sudden, arguably unfulfilling, possibly unsatisfying way it’s ended…
Why is this my favorite issue of the run?
There’s a pretentiousness in comics about comics; of characters who break the fourth wall to commune and joke with the audience about how silly this situation is; how we all know how all of this will end. This wink and nod may be intriguing to the many who enjoy knowing how the sausage is made, who think about narrative choices in terms of how they will affect sales and blame editorial for their favorite character’s (dis)appearances. Here, however, that fourth-wall breaking isn’t linear or direct; it may, in fact, just be my imagination, as that fourth-wall break comes in a culmination of articulation and agency that’s been missing for the entirety of the comic’s run. That my consistent criticism of this book — that the central character has no voice or agency — is forcefully rebuffed here feels poignant and purposeful. Like maybe, I was heard.
The heart of the book is a back-and-forth with Eternity, who took over Storm’s body, causing her to act (and kill) against her will. It was abhorrent to see a Black woman robbed of her agency twice: both in character and in narration. We never really got an understanding of what she was thinking or feeling, save from the omnipotent narrator’s point of view (and from excellent visuals which, it must be said, have been a saving grace for this comic for its entire run. It always, always looks the part.).
Yet in the end, Storm asserts herself over Eternity; she acknowledges hurt and mistakes, but shuns “help” in the form of subservience. She owns the moment; she owns her actions, her power and moves forward as an equal of Eternity to deal with the multitude of problems at her feet.
That assertiveness, that agency, that voice — this is the true purpose and victory of the comic. The action, the stories, the sanctuary — all dressing around the story of a woman finally empowered to walk a path of her choosing. The fights, then, work at the periphery — they were always periphery to begin with.
The story ends as it should: on Storm’s terms.
And on ending terms: I’ve written for ComicsXF for … goodness, seven-ish years now? It’s been an honor and a privilege to provide my perspective at the confluence of intellectualism, Black culture and heady fandom. This is not my last piece (I have at least one other feature cooking), but with little on the horizon that excites me, this may be my last piece for an extended period. I’m a 43-year-old Black man in a country where tomorrow isn’t promised, so I just want to pause to say thank you for reading. Thank you for giving me something to do.
Thank you for allowing me to be heard.
To anyone who followed my journey (even if it’s just my former and current editors): I hope you’ve seen growth and passion, empathy and anger.
I hope my writing, to you, has been poignant and purposeful.
I hope you — whoever you are — miss reading from me just as much as I’ll miss (temporarily!) writing for you.
Buy Storm: Earth’s Mightiest Mutant #5 here. (Disclaimer: As an Amazon Associate, ComicsXF may earn from qualifying purchases.)
A proud New Orleanian living in the District of Columbia, Jude Jones is a professional thinker, amateur photographer, burgeoning runner and lover of Black culture, love and life. Magneto and Cyclops (and Killmonger) were right. Learn more about Jude at SaintJudeJones.com.
