Broken Frontier

How quickly does someone so fast fall when he becomes as slow as the rest of us? Ask Quicksilver, the Son of M.

He could run faster than a hurricane. He held a place at his father’s side, scion of The House of M. Most of all, he had his sister’s unflinching love. To him, it was a perfect world, until three little words from the one he loved most took everything from him. No longer Quicksilver, now just Pietro, he is less than a shell of his former self. He lives in a hovel and has taken to the bottle and wearing his old costume as if either can help achieve past glory. Neither does, and just how low he’s fallen is brought closer to home when he tries his hand at super-heroics. He gets his ass kicked, and is only saved by Spider-Man. But after their exchange, Pietro realizes that he has much farther to fall.

Every fan of superhero comics has a favorite speedster. Me? Well, it was Quicksilver. He had the best name, the best costume, and a slick do to boot. His speed was believably within the limits of superhuman possibility and without fancy bells and whistles like vibrating through walls. And his father issues, superiority complex, and utter devotion to his sister made him a complete head case whose loyalties were always up for question. But what made him truly intriguing was the extent to which his mutant abilities shaped his character. Speed made the man, and the man was pompous and arrogant, overconfident to a fault at times, and always an ass. A case of road rage even while standing still.

This is what makes Son of M so interesting and is at the heart of David Hine’s script. Pietro had his perfect world, then lost his speed, his place in that world, and thus lost himself to an extent much greater than others similarly affected. Still, though he’s brought all of his post-M-Day troubles upon himself, there’s still a flash of Quicksilver when he blames "those few imperfections" instead of himself. Hine’s characterization here is remarkable. He exposes Pietro for what he is—as much a product of his own denial as of his mutant abilities—but also casts him sympathetically without crossing into melodrama. And with the same light touch, Hine reveals Pietro from two perspectives. Once we see him through his own clouded eyes, the perspective shifts to Spider-Man, whose eyes become ours. Peter Parker’s point-of-view is the perfect vantage point to play off Pietro’s. More personally affected than any of the major players in House of M, in Son of M we come face-to-face with Parker’s grief over losing a perfect life that never existed.

What Roy Allan Martinez’s artwork lacks in superhero glitz it makes up for with shadings and textures not typically associated with the genre. This is the sort of artwork that would fit right at home on the Vertigo imprint. But though the art does not conform to what one might expect from a title like Son of M, perhaps it also reveals something we would not otherwise see. Martinez’s gritty lines drain Pietro of his pretty-boy charm and replace it with stringy hair, stubble, dispirited body language, and facial expressions reflecting true desperation. And while he’s certainly familiar with Spider-Man’s iconic action poses, Martinez gives just as much weight to the emotional burden the web-slinger’s carrying, at times capturing the man behind the mask more as a grieving father than a superhero. Pete Pantazis’ colors add the finishing touch to this issue. For both Pietro and Parker, the world’s suddenly become pale and washed-out, devoid of the meaning it had when The House of M ruled.

Is Pietro to be pitied or despised? Thankfully, Son of M #1 keeps us guessing.