The Oracle

“The Oracle”
X-Men #6
Written by Jonathan Hickman
Art by Matteo Buffagni
Color art by Sunny Gho

My favorite narrative threads introduced by Jonathan Hickman in House of X – the machinations of Orchis, the confrontation of Moira and Destiny, the suicide mission on the Orchis forge, the looming threat of Nimrod, Xavier and Magneto using the promise of resurrecting Destiny as a method of manipulating Mystique – come together in “The Oracle,” the best single issue of an X-comic to come out since House of X/Powers of X gave way to the Dawn of X. Given that we’ve had to wait a bit for this to come together makes it feel like a payoff, but it’s still just set up. We now have a full sense of Mystique’s arc for the Hickman X-Men mega-story, and it’s something that pulls together everything that’s ever been interesting about one of the franchise’s greatest antagonists: Her nihilistic cynicism, her duplicitous and conspiratorial nature, her deep love for Destiny, and her limitless capacity for spite and bitterness. At the end of this issue Mystique is set on a course to become a threat to the grand project of Krakoa for reasons that make a lot of emotional sense. Even if she ends up doing horrible things, it’s easy to be on her side in this. 

At the beginning and end of the issue we see Destiny and Mystique together in flashback, as Mystique is told a vague prophecy that lines up with her experiences in the present. I love seeing them together because it’s the only time you ever see Mystique be vulnerable or deferential with another person. Destiny is the only person she truly trusts and admires, and there’s an implication that she’s also somewhat responsible for her political radicalization. Hickman’s characterization of Destiny is not far off from Chris Claremont’s depiction of her in the 1980s, but he leans harder on her essential spookiness and her icy ruthlessness. “They want us blind for some reason,” she says, accurately sensing that the removal of her special form of sight is deliberate. Moira’s fear of Destiny is rooted in her traumatic experience with her at the end of her third life and is tied to her tremendous guilt for her actions in that timeline, but I also get the impression that she understands that if anyone would call bullshit on the Krakoan mutant togetherness project and have the means to build a faction of skeptical mutants it’s Destiny and Mystique. Moira’s anxiety about this has now guaranteed that it will come to pass. 

The panel in which Mystique shouts “I WANT MY WIFE BACK!” at Xavier and Magneto is the emotional climax of the issue, but has more power in that Hickman is finally spelling out something that’s been elided for decades due to editorial policies, though it was screamingly obvious to anyone who read Claremont’s comics. This isn’t actually the first time the nature of their relationship has been made canon, but it’s certainly the most important. The metatextual aspect of this adds to a few extra layers of pathos to the story, particularly when you consider that Claremont’s writing implied they’d been living together as a lesbian couple for several decades and that they were as out with that as they were about being mutants, though Mystique’s shape-shifting always gave her the option to pass. 

One of the ways Xavier and Magneto are using their leverage over Mystique to their advantage is by having her spy on the Orchis station to make sure that the X-Men’s mission in House of X was actually successful, as they all died out of range of Cerebro and no one had retained their memories when they were resurrected. She returns with a good news/bad news message: Yes, the Mother Mold was destroyed, but it seems as though Dr. Gregor and Director Devo are moving along in creating something that looks quite a lot like Nimrod. We don’t actually know what the Orchis scientists are doing, though it’s connected with Gregor’s odd plan to revive her husband who died in the X-Men’s raid, but it moves that plot along in a way that invites speculation. It moves Mystique’s story forward by complicating her motivations – she cares enough about her people to want to stop Orchis, but not enough that she is willing to do anything more until she gets Destiny back. She tries to use this as leverage over Xavier and Magneto, and fails. The bitterness sets in, and it’s clear those men have no idea how much of a mistake they’re making by protecting Moira. 

Some notes: 

• Hickman has been writing Xavier and Magneto as a gay couple in subtextual ways, so it’s interesting that they’re the ones thwarting the reunion of a lesbian couple whose relationship is now entirely official in the text. 

• The plot point of Dr. Alia Gregor seemingly attempting to revive her dead husband in the form of Nimrod is a clever thematic parallel with Mystique’s quest to revive her lost wife, but also a cruel irony in that by raiding the Orchis forge, the X-Men apparently hastened the creation of the thing they were desperately trying to prevent. And I like that there’s a more poignant emotional context for the origin of Nimrod – it’s not just motivated by MUTANTS BAD, but rather a consequence of mutant aggression.

• Matteo Buffagni did a wonderful job as a fill-in artist on this issue, and his Sean Phillips/David Mazzucchelli-ish inky noir qualities were very well-suited to this particular story. I’m particularly fond of how he drew the subtleties of body language in the Destiny/Mystique flashbacks and how the surreal aspects of Krakoa appeared when filtered through his blunt realism. 

• The page revealing Mystique’s appearance in disguise in earlier scenes in the Orchis station was brilliantly executed, and recalls a similar trick Hickman used in his Avengers run showing the reader how the boy who became Starbrand had been in the backgrounds of scenes through the issue. 

• This is the first issue of an X-Men comic since House of X #1 to not include text pages, and the issue contains a few extra pages of art instead. They made the right choice here for the story, but I think that breaking the formal pattern was a subtle nod that this issue was meant to seem particularly heavy. 

• Gotta love the very low-key introduction of SENTINEL CITY on Mercury. Yikes!

Welcome to Genosha

“Welcome to Genosha” / “Busting Loose” /
“Who’s Human?” / “Gonna Be A Revolution”
Uncanny X-Men #235-238 (1988)
Written by Chris Claremont
Pencils by Marc Silvestri (236, 238) 
and Rick Leonardi (235, 237)
Inks by Dan Green (236, 238), P. Craig Russell (235), 
and Terry Austin (237)

“Welcome to Genosha” is one of the most politically charged stories of Chris Claremont’s original 17 year tenure of writing Uncanny X-Men and its associated titles, and introduces the island nation of Genosha, which in retrospect is his last major conceptual contribution to the X-Men mythos. Genosha is a country which has quietly enslaved its mutant population for its economic gain, and have developed nightmarish brainwashing techniques that reduce mutants to docile, obedient workers who live only to use their powers to serve the state. 

Genosha was clearly inspired in part by apartheid-era South Africa, but the severity of the situation was ultimately Claremont showing us a worst case scenario of how humans might treat mutants that’s as grim as the death camps of “Days of Future Past” but more plausible in the sense that it’s unlikely a capitalist system would prefer to exterminate a resource as potentially profitable as mutants. Genosha is, on a conceptual level, a dark reversal of Wakanda – whereas the latter fictional African nation is a sci-fi Afrofuturism fantasy of a black nation that was able to make major scientific achievements without the intervention of Europeans, Genosha’s advanced science is a direct result of exploiting mutant labor. The mutants of Genosha are collectively responsible for the existence of the high-tech weapons and processes that shackle them. 

The story is a logical conclusion of a path that Claremont set his characters on starting with the “Mutant Massacre.” Under Storm’s leadership the X-Men became more ruthless and radical, and focused more on shutting down threats and pursuing justice for mutants than in promoting Charles Xavier’s dream of peaceful cohabitation of humans and mutants. Storm would never disavow those goals, but she was driven mainly by pragmatism and moral outrage. The Genosha arc tests the militancy of Storm’s X-Men – when faced with the absolute worst of humanity and a morally bankrupt society, what would they do? Would the X-Men actually overthrow a corrupt government? 

Of course they would. But in doing so, the X-Men have to abandon their role as superheroes to become revolutionaries. Superheroes traditionally exist to prop up a status quo, and under Xavier’s leadership the X-Men’s goals were mostly focused on protecting a society that hated them in the interest of gradual assimilation. Storm’s X-Men have no interest in protecting a corrupt social order, so in this story Claremont can present a fantasy of extremely powerful minority figures smashing a system. The conclusion of this arc is all catharsis – the Genoshan state is shattered, the “mutates” are liberated, and the X-Men head back home in the end. It’s a satisfying conclusion, but it’s hardly the end of the story. A couple years later in “X-Tinction Agenda” we find out that Genosha was only briefly set back by the X-Men’s intervention and their violent actions only further radicalized their government. The X-Men can damage the system, but without the necessary tedious and difficult ongoing work of building a better society, the worst elements will persist.

This story marks the end of Claremont’s initial arc for Storm. He writes her out of the series for a little while after “Inferno,” and his last significant Storm story of his original run was a drastic left turn involving her being regressed to childhood. To some extent, the Genosha story represents what the X-Men ought to be – full-on revolutionary freedom fighters –but that role would be difficult to maintain in the format of a shared-universe superhero comic. Like, if the X-Men are going to overthrow Genosha, why not the United States too?

But this political radicalism is the appropriate end point of Storm’s leadership of the X-Men. She is not someone who is willing to let unjust systems stand, and will do whatever it takes to smash racist, patriarchal, and fascist capitalist states. It’s odd how much of this aspect of Storm has been erased in subsequent years – many writers forget her passion and “by any means necessary” approach, and while Cyclops took on a similar form of radicalism through this decade, every writer cast her as fundamentally opposed to these moves despite the number of major canonical Claremont stories that would suggest that she’d more likely look to his efforts and think “yes, finally.” 

The Genosha arc was published bi-weekly in the run-up to the “Inferno” crossover, and as a matter of scheduling, was illustrated by regular series artist Marc Silvestri and recurring guest artist Rick Leonardi. Leonardi’s art is strong but has never been to my taste – there’s something about the contrast of roundness and scratchiness in his linework that has never been appealing to me. Silvestri, however, is one of my all-time favorite X-Men artists. He’s sort of an odd figure now – somewhere in the mid-90s his work severely devolved on a technical level, but through the late ‘80s he’s a top-notch draftsman with a rough but elegant style that pulls as much from classic fashion illustration as it emulates the grounded realism of old school Marvel artists like Joe Kubert and John Buscema. Silvestri’s men are grizzled and macho, and his women are rendered like pop stars and supermodels but somehow more beautiful. As idealized as his heroes get, his pages are rooted in recognizable settings full of average-looking people for contrast. 

Claremont, always so good with playing to his artists’ strengths, gradually took the glossy sensuality of Silvestri’s artwork – along with the creative blank check that came as a result of Uncanny X-Men’s massive sales and the recent departure of micromanaging Marvel editor-in-chief Jim Shooter – as license to push the X-Men into explicitly horny territory. A large chunk of the Genosha arc is devoted to a subplot about Madelyne Pryor’s corruption and transformation into the vengeful Goblin Queen prior to “Inferno.” These pages, many of which take place in abstracted fever dreams, present Pryor’s trauma and rage but also her emerging extreme sexuality. 

Claremont’s X-Men had always featured subtextual nods to his interest in BDSM and roleplaying but with Silvestri he was pushing it all to the surface. Pryor spends all of Inferno wearing an insanely revealing costume that’s deliberately trashy as a way to taunt and scandalize her ex-husband Cyclops. Cyclops’ brother Havok, who at this point is fully seduced by Pryor, ends up wearing even less – pretty much just a loincloth, and a fairly skimpy loincloth at that. Mister Sinister, who was designed by Silvestri, ends up looking like a leather daddy goth dom in this context. It’s wild stuff, and even more so when you consider that the overwhelming majority of the readership at the time – including myself – were children. I appreciate the subversive energy behind these comics, and respect the overwhelming horniness of it all. It’s certainly the work of eccentric individuals rather than sanitized corporate content. They were going waaaaay over the top at a time when comics were still mostly quite old fashioned in story and art, so it’s hardly a surprise that these issues sold in outrageous quantities relative to most anything else. 

Lifedeath

“Lifedeath”
Uncanny X-Men #186 (1984)
Written by Chris Claremont
Art by Barry Windsor-Smith

It’s pretty obvious that Storm was Chris Claremont’s favorite character. She, along with Wolverine, is the consistent center of the cast through his original 17-year run, and the character he gives the richest and most complex inner life. Claremont’s Storm is a woman of many contradictions – goddess and street urchin, compassionate idealist and ruthless revolutionary, leader and rebel. She’s proud and has an incredibly strong will, and most stories that focus on her are about an antagonist attempting – an ultimately failing – to dominate and control her. 

Storm’s original role in the X-Men leaned mostly on her “goddess” role. She was mostly a noble and serene presence – more emotional and instinctive in her leadership than the more cerebral and meticulously strategic Cyclops, more exotic and unknowable than her “girl next door” best friend Jean Grey, and connected to the natural world in a far more beautiful and spiritual way than the brutal and bestial Wolverine. Storm’s story becomes more complicated and interesting during Paul Smith’s run as artist in 1982 starting with her taking control of the underground society of mutant outcasts called the Morlocks after defeating their butch Patti Smith-esque punk leader Callisto in a knife fight, and having a brief lesbian fling with the Japanese thief Yukio while the X-Men are in Tokyo. (That’s not explicitly stated in the text, by the way, but come on.) She debuts her classic mohawk look at the end of that story, giving herself a punk makeover to reflect her emerging wild side. 

Storm was directly inspired to embrace the new look by interacting with Yukio and realizing how much she wanted to be like her. “I envy you your madness, Yukio,” she says in Uncanny #172. “It is a luxury denied me ever since my powers first appeared. My safety, and that of those around me, requires an inner serenity – an absolute harmony with the world itself – I have lost lately.” At this point in the story, Storm is learning to embrace her emotions and trust that her instincts will keep her from unleashing major ecological collateral damage. 

Over the next dozen or so issues, Storm struggles with this and with how other characters respond to her emotional growth. Kitty Pryde, always a harshly judgmental figure in X-lore, is particularly hard on Storm for having the nerve to be something other than the calm maternal figure she had come to love. In Uncanny #180, Storm confronts Kitty and addresses this conflict, with the adolescent Kitty countering Storm’s need to grow and change by petulantly declaring “Some things shouldn’t change, they should be constant!” Kitty comes around to accepting Storm’s tearful explanation of her adult need to find her true self and in doing so learn things about herself she might not like. Storm’s speech to Kitty in this issue reads a lot like someone explaining why they had to come out of the closet. 

All of this is setting the table for Uncanny #186, a special issue illustrated by guest artist Barry Windsor-Smith in which Storm deals with the immediate aftermath of losing her elemental powers and sense of sense of self. After making progress in her quest to balance her emotions and powers, the rug is pulled out from under her when she’s accidentally hit with a shot from a gun that neutralizes mutant powers that was intended for the fugitive Rogue. In this story, “Lifedeath,” she’s recovering in the home of the mutant inventor Forge, who she does not realize is the man who, on behalf of the U.S. government, created the weapon that robbed her of her gifts. 

“Lifedeath” is subtitled “a love story” on the cover of the issue, and is a very peculiar sort of romance. The majority of the issue is about Storm and Forge getting to know each other while she processes her trauma and is forced to reassess everything she thought she understood about herself. Forge is extremely attracted to her from the start, and she develops a crush on him over the course of the issue. He’s presented as intelligent, philosophical, and somewhat debonair, and lives in an elaborate high rise tricked out with incredible inventions – the most remarkable being a sort of holographic imaging that the can make structural elements appear invisible so furniture and bodies resting on them look as if they’re floating mid-air. 

The two begin to bond when Storm learns that Forge has endured serious trauma in his life and that he lost his right leg in an explosion while serving as a soldier in Vietnam. Over the course of a romantic dinner, she reveals to him that her severe claustrophobia is a result of having to watch her mother die while they were both trapped under rubble from a bomb that leveled their home when she was a small child in Cairo. Neither of them is used to this sort of intimacy, so the intensity of the situation is especially strong. They come close to consummating their attraction to one another, but are interrupted by a call – an in listening in, Storm learns of Forge’s complicity in her loss. Windsor-Smith, one of comics’ greatest draftsmen, nails every emotional beat with exquisite nuance.

Forge attempts to explain himself. He was just following orders and doing his job, of course! When he reveals to Storm that he is also a mutant, it only makes her more disgusted, as it’s clear just how much of a sell-out he is. Storm tells him off in rather brutal terms at the climax of the issue – “You live in your high tower – untouched, untouchable – surrounded by illusion, so terrified of the real, living world you cannot bear to violate the sanctity of your space with something as small as a flower. Your home is a true reflection of its creator: Cold, cruel, sterile, and ultimately, a deception.” Forge gets defensive, but it’s a waste of his time. Storm has, at least for now, made up her mind about him.

This is only the beginning of the Storm and Forge story, which would carry on and off through the next few years of Claremont’s run without ever coalescing into any sort of proper romantic partnership. Forge is Storm’s first major love interest, and for a very long time the only notable romantic pairing in her publication history. (She would eventually be in written into a brief and largely miserable marriage with Black Panther, another cold and emotionally stunted inventor/genius type.)

Forge is a very inspired romantic foil for Storm – it’s very easy to understand the reasons she would be attracted to him, but the intersection of his power and personality make him a potent metaphor for a particular sort of disappointing man. He has the power to create literally anything he can imagine, but he’s so damaged and lacking in imagination that he mostly squanders his gifts on flashy home decor and creating weapons. Storm is correct – his need to isolate himself makes him quite selfish, and that keeps him from doing real good for the world. He eventually becomes a member of the X-Men, but he never fulfills his potential in that capacity either. One way or another, he always reverts to form as an aloof government stooge who mostly just builds weapons that inflict the same sort of damage unto others as he experienced in Vietnam. 

Capital Crimes

“Capital Crimes”
Uncanny X-Men #272 (1990)
Written by Chris Claremont
Pencils by Jim Lee
Inks by Scott Williams

“Capital Crimes” is the seventh issue of the nine-part “X-Tinction Agenda” storyline that ran through Uncanny X-Men, X-Factor, and New Mutants in the fall of 1990. It’s a very frustrating story in that the Uncanny X-Men issues, written by Chris Claremont and illustrated by Jim Lee at the pinnacle of their talents, are as exciting and visually thrilling as superhero comics get, while the remainder of the story is largely incoherent and unattractive. Louise Simonson, who wrote the New Mutants and X-Factor issues, doesn’t seem especially inspired but is as at a massive disadvantage in that her artists are nowhere near as exciting as Jim Lee. Two of her three New Mutants issues are illustrated by a young Rob Liefeld who is obviously scrambling to meet deadlines while inkers like Joe Rubinstein wipe out nearly all traces of his ridiculous charm, leaving only messy, ugly pages. (The third is drawn by a total rando doing a fill-in issue.) Her X-Factor issues are illustrated by Jon Bogdanove, who would be fine enough in other contexts but whose lumpy linework looks extremely drab and old-fashioned in contrast with Lee’s dynamic and densely rendered pages. Flipping through a collection of “X-Tinction Agenda” today is jarring, but does adequately emphasize how original and exciting Lee’s art was at the time. It’s somewhat comparable to the roughly concurrent seismic impact that Mariah Carey, Garth Brooks, N.W.A., and Nirvana had on their respective genres in music. 

At the time of “X-Tinction Agenda,” Chris Claremont had been writing Uncanny X-Men and most of the spin-off titles for 16 years, and had worked with some of the best illustrators in the history of the medium – Dave Cockrum, John Byrne, Paul Smith, John Romita Jr, Barry Windsor-Smith, Arthur Adams, Bill Sienkiewicz, Marc Silvestri, Alan Davis, John Buscema – and had learned how to write to make the most of their respective styles. Claremont very quickly learned how to best utilize Lee and capitalized on his skill for drawing sexy, idealized bodies and the sort of action scenes that made most blockbuster movies look bland by comparison. “Capital Crimes,” in which the reunited X-characters escape captivity in the fascist slave state of Genosha, is basically a string of “FUCK YEAH!!!” hero moments executed with precision and grace by Claremont and Lee. 

The story doesn’t just pay off on the events of the story thus far, but gives readers moments they’d been hoping to see for years, like Wolverine fighting the newly dark and blade-winged Archangel, or Cyclops reasserting his role as the leader of the X-Men. A lot of the most thrilling bits are character-defining moments for new members like Gambit and Cable, and in the case of the recently transformed Psylocke, character-redefining as she takes on a full-on action hero role as a psychic ninja with a machine gun. 

My favorite element of this story is the villain, Cameron Hodge. Hodge started off as a supporting character in X-Factor but was gradually revealed as a crazed anti-mutant maniac with a militia called The Right over the course of Simonson’s runs on X-Factor and New Mutants. At this point, he was barely human – just a head attached to an enormous grotesque mecha-scorpion with robotic tentacles, spikes, guns. As illustrated by Lee, it’s one of the most memorable and terrifying character designs of the era. There’s never any adequate explanation of how Hodge became attached to this vast killing machine, or even how he ended up in a position of great power in Genosha, but it hardly matters. Claremont essentially writes Hodge as a completely unhinged version of George H.W. Bush. He’s lost all connection to his humanity, and is little more than a gleefully sadistic maniac with a psychotic grudge against all X-people, but especially his old rival, Archangel. 

Claremont clearly loves writing Hodge’s over-the-top dialogue (“♫What a day, what a day for an auto-de-fé♫”), and Lee obviously delights in the creepy spectacle of his mechanical body. It makes no sense at all that while Hodge has appeared in subsequent stories, he’s only appeared once more in this form, basically as a mini-boss in the late-‘00s crossover “Second Coming.” This should be one of the definitive recurring X-Men villains, and yet. It’s hard to understand why many artists wouldn’t leap at the chance to draw this version of Hodge, but then again, attempting to compete with what Lee accomplished with the character in these issues seems very difficult and the other art in the crossover demonstrates just how badly you can look in comparison. 

Ghosts

“Ghosts”/“Retribution”/“Salvation”
Uncanny X-Men 207-209 (1986)
Written by Chris Claremont
Pencils by John Romita Jr.
Inks by Dan Green

This run of issues near the end of John Romita Jr’s tenure on Uncanny X-Men is the climax of years of ongoing plot going back to the late John Byrne period, paying off on story elements involving the Hellfire Club in “The Dark Phoenix Saga” and the bleak future timeline introduced in “Days of Future Past.” This story, which I’ll collectively refer to as “Ghosts” as that is the title of the trade paperback in which it is all collected, is also the prelude to the radical overhaul of the series’ cast and status quo that would happen after the subsequent “Mutant Massacre.” Chris Claremont very obviously intended this story arc to mark the end of an era, and a transition into a phase where the influence of his most ambitious contemporaries – most notably Alan Moore – would be more apparent. 

“Ghosts” is primarily the conclusion of the Rachel Summers plot thread that had carried through Uncanny X-Men for about two years at this point, but originated in “Days of Future Past.” Rachel was introduced in that story as the daughter of Cyclops and Jean Grey in a grim future in which the Sentinels were largely successful in snuffing out mutants, and Rachel was a brainwashed “hound” used by the government to hunt down other mutants. Rachel eventually makes her way back to the present, and gradually insinuates herself into the X-Men. She’s a very troubled character – she is rattled by the notion that her very existence is impossible in this timeline given that Jean Grey had died, she has severe PTSD from her experience in the future, and becomes an existential threat to everyone once she gains access to the extraordinary power of the Phoenix force. Everyone is terrified of Rachel’s power, knowing that her much more stable mother was driven mad by the same power and killed an entire planet on a whim. Near-omnipotence in the hands of someone this sad and broken? Yikes. 

Claremont deliberately avoids retracing the steps of “The Dark Phoenix Saga,” and writes a different sort of tragedy. Rachel’s trauma and anger don’t result in a Dark Phoenix meltdown, but do lead her to other forms of self-destructive actions. At this point in Rachel’s story, she’s fallen into a deep depression, and feels extremely isolated from her friends, and is overwhelmed by guilt and grief. In “Ghosts,” Rachel has a series of vivid dreams in which she is murdered by Wolverine, and essentially wills that scenario into being as she decides to hunt down and kill Selene, the vampiric Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. Wolverine, clearly afraid of this leading to either a Dark Phoenix situation or her simply becoming more like him, feels compelled to stop her. She refuses to stand down, and tells him the only way to stop her is to kill her. So in the final panel of the issue he pops his claws into her chest. It’s suicide-by-Wolverine. 

In the next issue, Rachel is bleeding out in Central Park near the Guggenheim. She’s weak, and can’t keep the thoughts of thousands of passerby out of her head. She’s only alive because her telekinetic powers are strong enough to mitigate the severe damage Wolverine did to her heart and lungs. She quickly discovers that Selene has killed again, and Wolverine’s intervention has done no good at all. Despite her condition, she’s still so powerful that she can locate Wolverine from across town and torture him from afar. 

These scenes, like most anything in this period of the Uncanny X-Men, work in large part because John Romita Jr’s art is so grounded in the reality of mid-80s New York City. Romita Jr draws street scenes with remarkable accuracy, and keeps the reader very aware of physical space. Claremont takes advantage of this during this run, keeping stories close to the ground and full of vivid, specific locations. The character design follows suit, as Romita Jr gradually transitions most of the characters away from traditional superhero costumes in favor of stylish street clothes with the colorful aesthetics of superhero outfits. At this stage the X-Men mostly look like a new wave band. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the best the characters have ever looked and it’s sad that almost no one draws the characters as punky hipsters after Romita Jr and his successor Marc Silvestri did so well with this look in the ‘80s. 

As Rachel continues to stumble through Central Park on the edge of death, the X-Men clash with the Hellfire Club and Nimrod, the nearly unstoppable Sentinel from Rachel’s future. It’s the unlikely culmination of years of X-Men/Hellfire Club rivalry, as the enemy factions team up to take down the immensely powerful robot. Half of the core Hellfire Club characters perish in the battle on the bramble, and the rest establish a truce that would last through the remainder of Claremont’s original run on the X-books. This plot development came less than a year after Claremont had fully transitioned Magneto from arch-villain to Charles Xavier’s replacement as headmaster of the school, and highlights his narrative boldness at the time. The Hellfire Club had been the primary antagonists of the X-Men comics for half a decade, and were now being set aside. Claremont was ready to bring in new threats, and to make the moral center of the series more ambiguous. 

Whereas the end of “The Dark Phoenix Saga” ends with Jean Grey’s suicide on the moon, Rachel’s arc concludes by embracing a different sort of self-negation. As Rachel staggers through the park, barely holding her body together, she is dazzled by Spiral’s magic and lured into the Body Shoppe with the promise of being given an entirely new life. Spiral is, of course, a nefarious character, but Rachel is too weak and too psychologically tormented not to be the perfect mark. It doesn’t take much to seduce Rachel into giving up her entire life. All she’s ever known is agony, horror, and failure. Claremont writes Rachel’s final scene as half happy ending, half pathetic tragedy. Rachel departs Uncanny X-Men as a coward, as someone who refuses to face responsibility for her actions and embraces the promise of absolution and/or oblivion. 

This is obviously not the end of Rachel Summers, but it is. This is the clear ending of Rachel’s arc, and true to Spiral’s promise, we never do see this version of Rachel ever again. Rachel Summers reappears about a year and a half later as one of the stars of Claremont’s Excalibur series, and she’s basically a new person. The Excalibur version of Rachel is far less tortured, written as more overtly queer, and fits in more with the deliberately light and goofy tone of that series. There’s some merit to this version of the character and some other later iterations of Rachel by other writers, but all of the pathos is drained out. Rachel, over time, becomes nothing more than a stand-in for Jean Grey in the X-Men during the periods when Jean is dead. The more Rachel has been established as a generic hero or Jean replacement, the further writers get from anything that made her compelling, including her queerness. Attempts to pair Rachel off with men, particularly Nightcrawler, have been incredibly unconvincing and dull. Nothing has really worked with Rachel since Uncanny X-Men #209 for a simple reason: Her story ended. If only anyone, especially Rachel’s creator, could have left well enough alone.

Fever Dream

“Fever Dream”
Uncanny X-Men #251 (1989)
Written by Chris Claremont
Pencils by Marc Silvestri
Inks by Dan Green

The image on the cover of Uncanny X-Men #251 of a crucified Wolverine is both boldly sacrilegious and totally appropriate to the character. Wolverine is, at the core of things, a hyper-masculine martyr fantasy. His rapid healing power and indestructible metal skeleton make him effectively unkillable, but he is constantly in agony. His power gives him license to be brave and reckless in ways that would be suicidal for anyone else – he’s routinely broken, burned, and gored while other characters are barely scratched in combat. It’s not just that he’ll “get better,” it’s that he’s willing to experience excruciating pain in order to do the right thing. This is a lot more important to the character than mere endurance and invincibility. Wolverine suffers for us all. When Donald Pierce and the Reavers crucify him in the Australian Outback on an X – just a cross turned sideways, after all – they’re deliberately mocking his martyr shtick. 

“Fever Dream” is the climax of a storyline in which Chris Claremont dismantles his second team of X-Men, the group of eight characters he focused on in the three years following the Mutant Massacre in 1986. Up until the Massacre, the cast of the X-Men had been relatively static since 1975, with only minor variations in lineup. After the Massacre, half of the core cast was written out, with Storm, Wolverine, and Rogue remaining alongside four new members – Psylocke, Dazzler, Longshot, and Havok. (Colossus returned a bit later, while Nightcrawler, Kitty Pryde, and Rachel Summers were sent off to the spin-off series Excalibur and sidelined from nearly every key X-Men story until 1998.) This time, however, Claremont was not as interested in shuffling the cast so much as entirely dissolving the concept of the X-Men as a team. From issue #252 through #274, there are no X-Men, just assorted X-Men characters scattered around the world having adventures in small groups and pairings. It was radical enough to alter the cast of the most successful comic in the American market in 1986, it was even more so to do away with the cast entirely in 1989. This phase of the series represents Chris Claremont at his most narratively ambitious. 

As we come into “Fever Dream,” nearly half the cast is already gone. Longshot had quit, Rogue had disappeared through the portal of the mystical Siege Perilous, and Storm appeared to have died. (She didn’t, but let’s not get into that here.) The remaining members – Psylocke, Havok, Colossus, and Dazzler – were off on a mission on the other side of the planet while Wolverine, who had been disappearing periodically from the main X-Men comic to appear in his own concurrent solo series by Claremont and John Buscema, had arrived back at the X-Men’s secret base in Australia to be ambushed by Reavers, a gang of rabidly anti-mutant cyborg psychopaths. At this point in the story, Wolverine’s healing powers had been exhausted and slowed down considerably, and there’s some question of whether or not he can actually survive the Reavers’ torture. This just feeds into the Reavers’ sadism – nearly every member of the group is a cyborg as a result of being mutilated by Wolverine’s claws, so they’re all very invested in having revenge on him. 

The majority of the story is focused on Wolverine’s visions while nailed to the cross, all brilliantly illustrated by Marc Silvestri at the peak of his skills, but the most significant part of the issue is the B plot revealing the fate of the four other X-Men. When the group return to the Outback to discover that the Reavers had returned, they panic and weigh their options as the gang approaches, ready to murder them all. Psylocke, a powerful telepath with increasingly dubious morality, makes an executive decision to use the Siege Perilous, a mystical portal that had been gifted to the group by the goddess Roma, as a retreat. The premise of the Siege is that those who pass through it will be judged and given new lives – the pure of heart will be given their fondest desires, and the rest will get their just deserts. 

The sequence in which Psylocke gently coerces her teammates into giving up their lives as they know them is one of the most unsettling moments in Claremont’s initial 17 year run on the series. Colossus, Dazzler, and Havok question the logic of running away – surely these four immensely powerful superheroes could hold their own against a group of psychos they’d already defeated once before – but Psylocke nudges them through regardless. Havok is the one to openly question whether he or the others have been psychically hijacked, but is still forced through the portal. 

It’s not entirely clear why Psylocke makes this extreme decision. She’s the most physically vulnerable character and probably the most afraid of a gang of maniacs with machine guns, so it checks out that she’d be the least inclined to face them. It’s a decision that comes as much out of her physical anxieties as her ruthlessness, a character trait that had been slowly evidencing itself over the past few years of issues. She was a demure, posh British girl on the surface, but as cold and cruel as Magneto when she had to be. 

Psylocke’s decision sets in motion nearly two years of plot, as the X-Men gradually reappear in “new lives” after passing through the Siege Perilous, but more importantly sets up the most drastic and lasting change to her character for about 30 years. A few issues later, in the first full X-Men storyline illustrated by Jim Lee, Psylocke would surface in Hong Kong, to be transformed by the Mandarin and the criminal organization The Hand into their perfect weapon – a psychic ninja assassin. As part of the process, they gave her an entirely new Asian body. Psylocke, the woman who forced her friends to give up their lives and identities, had been stripped of her mind, her agency, and her body itself. It’s a cruel karmic punishment. 

Claremont had been obsessed with psychic possession, body swaps, and variations on physical and psychological domination and subjugation for years – almost always a reflection of his obsession with kink – but this was by far the most radical move he’d made, and the most lasting. Psylocke’s  transformation into an Asian woman was only recently undone in 2018, mostly out of concern that it was problematic in racial terms. It was, for sure. But it’s also deeply fascinating, and created many opportunities to delve into the character’s complicated relationship with both her body and mind, as well as allowing for a creepy subtext about British colonialism. 

“Fever Dream” is as bleak as X-Men stories get, which is really saying something. Near the end of the issue, the Reavers’ leader Donald Pierce destroys the Siege Perilous, refusing to give Wolverine the option to escape through it, and casting some doubt on what might happen to the other characters as a result. But there’s some hope. Jubilee, then a brand new character who had secretly stowed away at the X-Men’s compound, witnesses Wolverine’s crucifixion, but also sees him tear himself off the cross. On the final page, the two meet for the first time. The broken, bloodied hero addresses her in the last panel: “So, kid…you gonna give a fella a hand, or what?”