Bedtime reading. (Taken with Instagram)
Such a perfect origin story, the first of those. The main character has tried to resist the false surfaces of the world, the false cruelty, but he fell for the seductiveness of false things, manufactured emotions, fantasy women. As soon as he can see past those surfaces, those lies, to the evil underneath, the next panel is his third eye opening (on his chest and on fire, but: yay, comics), and he just starts demolishing the society around him. His secret origin is Enlightenment. Plus, that image everyone remembers, the segmented dream-woman— the hero is confronted with how shallow his desires are, a woman reduced to a pile of parts, and in ridding himself of false desires, the “last vestiges” of the hero’s former self (“Buddy Blank”) is basically obliterated and in the next panels, he starts talking directly to his god (in this case, an omniscient talking satellite). He’s this Christ figure with a mohawk who punches bad guys to stop violence. It’s so completely dumb, in such a fine and honorable way. Just a perfect comic of its kind, that first issue.