Fans familiar with Deathstroke should note we haven’t
changed the series continuity so much as we have streamlined
it a bit, creating what I call a composite history from
events which originally took place years apart. Deathstroke
has a long and complicated history of cast members dying and
being resurrected and changing in various ways. I really
prefer my series not be focused on reconciling or explaining
all of the various past versions of the premise but instead
stand on its own as a new version of the original classic.
No Experience Necessary
If
you have never before in life read Deathstroke,
please feel invited to jump in. Absolutely no prior
knowledge of Deathstroke, his supporting cast, New 52 or
even the Rebirth event itself is necessary to begin reading
this book. Deathstroke: Rebirth may well be the most
accessible comic I’ve ever written, and “The Professional,”
our first story arc, is a rebuilding arc designed to
reintroduce characters and concepts created by Marv Wolfman
and bring them into 2016.
The twice-monthly publishing schedule affords us a great
opportunity in the writing by not forcing us to shotgun
everything at you but build out our narrative brick by
brick. This avoids my echoing criticism about story arcs
issuing a story fragment then making you wait a month for
the next story fragment.
With Deathstroke, we are more or less doing old-style
done-in-one’s; Priest in Denny O’Neil Mode writing within a
planned episodic structure. Each issue is both a story and
part of a larger story. This is a book that doesn't have to
wait for the trade, it can be read issue-by-issue and still
work (Rebirth
being a notable exception as that story concludes in
Deathstroke #1). In today’s broader and more
visually-oriented style, telling a full story in a single
issue can be a real challenge and make for a crowded look,
but my goal is to give the fans more than their money’s
worth: a good, solid read with strong characters we hope you
will grow to care about and want to see more of.
Also appearing in the book will be something too often
missing from Deathstroke: humor. Full disclosure,
Deathstroke: Rebirth isn’t all that funny. DSRB will, in
fact, be funnier when you read Deathstroke #1 and
then get jokes you missed in Deathstroke: Rebirth.
Deathstroke will not, in any sense, be Quantum &
Woody, but I see no earthly reason why comic relief
could or should not be in the mix. Deathstroke himself is
not funny and has very little in the way of a sense of
humor, but expect a broader range of narrative.
We’ve abandoned the first person narrative technique in
favor of making Slade Wilson a man who holds his own
council. Slade will never, under any circumstances, tell you
what he is thinking. If he does, don’t believe it; he’s
playing you. Ironically, by getting out of Slade’s head, we
achieve a higher level of intimacy because now the audience
has to guess, along with Slade’s family and friends, what
his actual motives are.
PriestStroke talks about 65% less than Deathstroke
traditionally has. This is among the grab-bag of tweaks DC
has graciously allowed me to make. My Deathstroke is much
more laconic and is not at all pompous as he has been
portrayed. This portrayal is based largely on my observation
of Tough Guys. A guy who gets in your face and threatens and
snarls and tells you he’s gonna kick your ass really isn’t
all that tough. Real badasses don’t need the preamble; a guy
who’s really going to hurt you just walks up and hits you.
Let’s go. My Deathstroke doesn’t talk about it, he’s just
there one moment and you’re chewing concrete the next. The
only people PriestStroke actually talks to at any length are
people he has a close relationship with—friends and foes.
Post-Rebirth, the Deathstroke series becomes more introspective
and character-driven. Slade (Deathstroke) Wilson and his
adventures are toned down somewhat to be more in-keeping
with the assassin’s core values: stealth, secrecy,
invisibility, silence. This may grate some of the series’
current readers who have grown accustomed to Deathstroke
leveling city blocks and battling space aliens and fiery
demons, so I’m certainly more than nervous about how this
new vision of the character—a kind of evil version of
Batman—might be received.
We’ve slimmed Deathstroke down from what were becoming
Hulking proportions. In my view, an assassin can’t possibly be effective if he’s
running around, bandolier clanking, firing full auto like the Schwarzenegger Terminator. I see Slade more like the
icy-quiet, emotionally stunted Jean Reno character from the genre-defining
Léon The Professional or Vincent, Tom Cruise’s stealthy hit
man from the Michael Mann classic Collateral. The Rebirthed
Deathstroke is a shadow man, an urban legend, who moves
invisibly, silently, strikes without warning, and vanishes.
As I see him,
Deathstroke’s true super-power is his intellect. Marv and
others have loaded him up with these other powers—virtually
all of which I find to be unnecessary and tedious in the
sense that I have to find ways to demonstrate them. I’d be
much happier if Deathstroke simply was what I believe Marv
intended him to be: the evil version of Batman. Slade’s most
potent super-power is his innate genius (we are abandoning
the silliness that Deathstroke, “uses 90% of his brain
capacity,” which is ridiculous. If Slade could access 90% of
his brain capacity he’d be Charles Xavier).
Outsmarting Deathstroke is likely not possible. He is at
least as resourceful and intelligent and well-prepared as
Batman. It grieves me a great deal to see Deathstroke
portrayed as a mindless thug (worse, talking like one) who
gets his ass kicked every time.
More than that, I’ve pushed DC to be careful who they stand
in front of Deathstroke. Deathstroke is a killer. He doesn’t
knock people out and turn them over to the police. Much as
fans would love to see Deathstroke versus Aquaman or
Deathstroke versus Harley Quinn, my point is, if Deathstroke
loses every encounter it dilutes the brand. If he wins but
chooses not to kill his opponent, it violates the character.
This concept is explored in Deathstroke #4 and #5
(September) where Deathstroke and Ravager go up against
Batman and Robin. They end up trading partners, Ravager
pursuing Batman and Deathstroke stuck with Damian, and the
clash between Batman and Deathstroke is less about the
punches thrown and more about two amazing strategists locked
in a battle of wills.
The Wolfman's Tomb
Writer/editor Marv Wolfman was one of my first bosses in
this business when I worked at Marvel Comics (for free) as a
high school intern in the late 70’s, endlessly copying
artist Gene Colan’s amazing pencil work for Marv’s book,
Tomb of Dracula. Marv was always, unfailingly, kind and
supportive, work-focused and disciplined. He was incredibly
patient when I’d just kind of hover in the tiny, windowless
office he shared with writer/editor Len Wein and,
occasionally, artist Dave Cockrum. I had a great deal of
respect for Marv personally, and was a big fan of his work
(even when he—completely unawares—snatched the monthly
Batman writing assignment from me by mentioning he’d be
interested in writing the book; Marv is a “name” writer and
I, in those days, was a relative unknown and designated
Batman Guest Host writing fill-ins).
PriestStroke, my take on Deathstroke, is certainly not
Marv’s Deathstroke, but Marv’s original writing is at the
core of my interpretation. With all possible respect to the
writers who came after Marv, when invited to write the book
I really did not recognize the character from when last I
was paying any attention to Deathstroke. I was interested in
writing that guy—Marv’s guy—not out of some outsized homage
to a former mentor but because that’s who I remembered.
A writer writes, first and foremost, for an audience of one.
What Deathstroke comic would I like to read? As a person of
faith, I find writing bloody carnage to be a real challenge
because it directly contradicts my own core values.
Therefore, it seems odd if not ridiculous for an ordained
Baptist pastor to be writing a book about a cold-blooded
killer—unless the book is less about glorifying the
two-dimensional narrative and devaluing of human life in
favor of making the book about the consequences of
violence and the ultimate toll that lifestyle takes on you.
The other challenge with Deathstroke is, as it was with
Tomb of Dracula, that just because the character’s name
appears in the title, there is some expectation that the
character will generally or ultimately behave heroically.
Comics have, in overwhelming numbers, been about heroes or,
at worst, antiheroes. It’s been awhile since I read Marv’s
TOD, but Dracula cannot, in any sense, be classified as a
hero without violating the character. Likewise I constantly
remind myself (and others) that Deathstroke is a villain.
The temptation to contrive ways for Deathstroke to
ultimately or reflexively be heroic (as he appears to be in
issue #1) is great but must be resisted. He’s a bad guy. DC
knows this; we are rooting for the bad guy.
By Any Other Name
The book’s virtual co-star, Robin to Deathstroke’s Batman, is Deathstroke’s daughter, Rose Wilson, whom we keep off the board until issue #3. As with Deathstroke himself, there have been many interpretations of Rose, much of it troubling for me. I’d actually written a much different story arc for her in my first draft before DC Editor Alex Antone called and said, “You do realize, Rose is a teenager.”
Dysfunctional Teen
Sidekicks In Love: Okay, I suppose she might be a teenager,
but she really doesn't look the part in Teen Titans #35
Well, no, I hadn’t. I’m not sure Rose has ever been drawn as
a teenager. I assumed she was early to mid-20’s, which would
make her half-brothers mid to late 20’s. With due respect to
previous writers, it really bothered me that a person so
young could already be a hardened killer (I have similar
concerns about the very popular Damian Wayne). In terms of
character dynamics, I’m not sure such persons can ever be
fully redeemed, and I’m really uncomfortable with the
general handwave most superheroes seem to be giving teen (and
even
pre-teen) killers, most especially given our nation’s
climate of violence. What do these characters say about our
values?
I am not suggesting every super-hero has to be pure or
angelic. What I mean is somebody, somewhere on some page
should express some concern for the emotional state and
overall wellbeing of these very young people who have taken
a life before graduating high school. What bothers me is
that none of the other DCU characters seem to bat an eye,
chalking killing up as perhaps juvenile delinquency.
That’s the emotional headlock I’ve placed Rose in. I see her
as a deeply conflicted very young person on the cusp of
adulthood who is still trying to figure herself out. She
ends up following Batman around in issue #5 (and driving the
Batmobile!) lost in a kind of awe at this iconic hero and
father figure of her mentor, Nightwing. Only, much like
Deathstroke himself, Batman rejects her. She is a killer.
Batman despises killers. Batman is the product of a killer.
Batman should be extremely conflicted about Damian.
It is this kind of deconstructive analysis that allows me to
write Deathstroke, a book I might not even read otherwise.
One of many great moments from Late Night with David
Letterman was a Howard Stern appearance where he was making OJ Simpson jokes and Dave wasn’t laughing. Stern called Dave
out on it and Dave replied, “Well, double homicides don’t
crack me up the way they used to.”
Comedic, over-the-top violence doesn’t crack me up at all. I
think it’s terrible. Violence is awful. Killing is terrible
and has real consequences. This book is about those
consequences.
We developed a revised character arc that works better with
an adolescent character, a young girl who has a complicated
relationship with her father trying to find her place in the
world. This may be received by some fans as “de-aging” Rose
and her brothers, which we’re not really doing so much as
refocusing on their fundamental attributes.
I don’t think I actually realized how popular Rose was with
fans until I Googled around for images of the character and
found a lot—a lot—of Cosplay (and even pornographic) images of women dressed like
her. And, in my own defense, these were all grown-ups, not
teens. Our Rose is a teen.
Deathstroke’s antagonists are all, to one degree or another,
good guys. This is a concept borrowed from the fifth season
of Shawn Ryan’s brilliant FX series, The Shield, where
Forest Whitaker’s riveting, enthralling internal affairs
lieutenant goes after Michael Chiklis’s iconic corrupt cop
Vic Mackie. In many interviews, Whitaker expressed genuine
chagrin at the loathing and outright hatred he encountered
on the street as his Jon Kavanaugh became perhaps the single
most loathed villain on TV. “But... Kavanaugh was the good
guy!” Whitaker would exclaim with seeming genuine annoyance.
The root of the Chiklis character was Vic Mackie’s murder of
a fellow police officer in the series pilot and his
subsequent struggle for redemption. Fans rooted for Mackie
but Mackie was, ultimately, a despicable and vile liar,
murderer and adulterer. It was Chiklis’s sheer force of
acting craft that made his character not only likeable but
loveable, and the ferocity with which Whitaker’s character
hammered Mackie made Kavanaugh ultimately hateable.
If Deathstroke’s friends are villains (or people who ultimately behave that way), his enemies are, at best, dysfunctional heroes; people who believe they are on the side of justice if not God Himself. This throws into question the entire concept of “good” and “bad” guys, which ones are which and, ultimately, what “justice” actually means.
