Writer David B. Schwartz; Art Sean Wang; Covers Chris Bacalo and Greg Horn
A comicbook can be just as poignant as a pop song. Accidental, as most poignant moments occur, a collision between pavement and memory. And a bad fucking day. Last quarter 2006, a disaster. Tick-tock temper. I kept thinking: any day now. Any day now.
And so the story begins of superhero Flare. Up in the air. About to lose it. To his arch-nemesis. About to lose it.
Like the art. Scorched. Fuming. In between flesh dripping off bone, childhood memories rudely interrupt. Wide-eyed pastels of solitary Cal (Caliente aka Flare) in a boiling swimming pool. The soft countours of falling in love for the first time. Crashing into the present. The meltdown.
Schwartz's writing jumps from innocence to rage just as Wang's pencils shift from sweet to dour. And it works. Compact, with only two issues, the push-pull pacing didn't have enough time to grow old.
We pretty much know what happens in the end. Salvation, blah-blah. But I didn't really mind that tear threatening to roll down. I got Flare. And I got the need to wrap it up with a smile. I wanted the happy ending.
Or that's just good writing. ****