By Tiffany Babb

“A guy showed up tonight asking for help. I thought he was the usual crank. I was wrong.”

Hawkeye vs. Deadpool begins with a call for help.

In an unusually realistic superhero moment, Clint Barton (sporting a makeshift Ultron Halloween costume) is approached by a stranger on his doorstep. Clint, in a moment of annoyance (spurred on by trick-or-treaters complaining about his fun-size candy bars), shuts the door in his face.

The situation, though mostly played for comedy, feels genuine, as we pause to realize that yes, superheroes would be the equivalent of the superstars of our world. It makes total sense that known heroes would be stopped by people in the street hoping that an Avenger or an X-Man might be the solution to their problems. And of course, most of those requests would be ridiculous and worth ignoring. But it is equally obvious that there would come a time that the request is not. Hawkeye vs. Deadpool is a story about that time.

Only moments after Clint shuts the door in the mysterious stranger’s face, two gunshots are heard, and the man is dead. Before he died though, the man (Jeremy Ellsden) dropped a thumbdrive into Deadpool’s Halloween bucket which reveals that he has stolen the complete HR files of every active SHIELD agent.

Brought to us by Gerry Duggan, Mateo Lolli, Cristiane Peter, and VC’s Cory Petit, the five-issue miniseries (starting with Issue 0) delves into Clint’s attempts to retrieve the file and secure the information that would put SHIELD agents in danger. And it’s no big surprise that, with the help of the other Hawkeye and Deadpool, he just about manages it. But that doesn’t really solve anything, does it?

In a way, I think the opening theme of this story slots pretty well into a lot of conversations we’ve been having about celebrity. Yes, actors who appear in blockbusters are cool, but is it cool to follow them home from the grocery store? (The answer is no.)

What we don’t always realize is that when a bystander recognizes someone famous, they (the bystander) are placed in an odd position of power. There is safety in anonymity, and so it is an act of power to destroy someone else’s anonymity. Which seems weird, because it’s usually people who wield influence that we learn to recognize. And then, when it comes to people who are supposed to be helping the public, the situation is even further complicated.

Sure, Clint Barton is a hero, an Avenger, even. But should he be held to the standards of being a hero all the time? When is he responsible for those around him, and when is he not? It seems a little unfair to heft the wight of the wellbeing of the world onto his shoulders.

Somewhat similarly, a doctor has a responsibility to her patients. And yeah, if someone has a heart attack on a train, the doctor probably has some sort of responsibility to go and help. But what if everyone could tell, just by looking at you, that you were a doctor? And what if that led to people constantly stopping you on the street to ask for advice on their headaches and heart palpitations and weird rashes?

Again, it’s complicated.

I realize that my description of this series so far has been a bit bleak, and I don’t want to be misleading. Hawkeye vs. Deadpool is not some grimdark series. In fact, the underlying tone of most of the book is light and comedic. The miniseries has its fair share of shenanigans. There are video games, daring Ooper chases, and the ghost of Benjamin Franklin. Plus, we get an appearance of both the old timey Hawkeye sky-cycle and the classic kelt-ed Hawkeye costume.

In tune with the comedic tone, the art and colors by Mateo Lolli and Christiane Peter respectively (with Jacopo Camagni stepping on as co-artist in the last issue alongside Nick Filardi as colorist) are playful and bright. Though the action of the story is kickstarted by a murder, the artwork bounces from big funny emotion to big funny reaction. Lolli is a master of the cartoonish expression, and it hits particularly well when it comes to Kate Bishop’s comedic moments. But though the book is chock full of jokes, it never really lets go of the underlying thread of what Clint has done.

Jeremy Ellsden had his plea rejected by someone he thought could help him. And for the rest of the series, in an odd sort of inverse, Clint constantly rejects offers of help from those around him. Almost as if he is attempting to atone for closing the door on someone by closing the door on himself. But in this instance, Clint’s peers push back. Like this interaction between Clint and Wade Wilson.

When framed in this light, Clint’s behavior reads as incredibly self-centered. As if his own personal history with the man who stole the data gives him some right to attempt this mission by himself. As if other peoples’ concerns about the situation matter less than his own.

Following this trend of attempting things alone, during the action-packed climax of the story, we are met with a repeated volley of “I don’t need saving” and “We don’t need saving!” Which brings us to the question, when we’re talking about superheroes, who is the person who is meant to be saving whom?

Hawkeye and Hawkeye are big time heroes, they’re Avengers. They don’t need anyone, least of all their (younger, crime fighting partner or their weird tagalong guy always making tasteless jokes) to back them up. These “I don’t need saving” moments are made silly by their repetitiveness and inherent ridiculousness (as they almost only exist when the speaker actually does need saving), but very similar dialogue carries a heavy punch when repeated once more at the end of the story.

When Hawkeye, Hawkeye, and Deadpool return to Clint’s apartment post-mission, Deadpool is still cracking jokes when he notices that something is up with Clint. What is up is that Clint has caught sight of the bloodstain on the sidewalk in front of his home. When Deadpool offers to help clean it up, Clint replies, “It’s my responsibility. No, I’ll handle it alone.” Though the language reflects the previous help-and-denial interactions, this time, Clint’s behavior no longer reads as self-centered, nor does the moment read as comedic.

Though the moment is similar to what has happened in the past, it is clear that Clint is no longer insisting on isolation because of any lofty ideas of strength or of protecting others, but because he understands that what has happened was kickstarted because of a decision that made.

In the closing moments, Clint’s caption box reads, “There’s nobody to beat up for that except me,” which highlights that this situation isn’t something he can punch or fight. It’s something he needs to understand and accept and hopefully learn home. It’s something that will take time and that can’t be wrapped up by the end of a mini-series.

Hawkeye vs. Deadpool shines light on the idea that superhero stories can have consequences that have nothing to do with their superhero powers (or skills). It’s a story about the responsibility of being the person that people go to for help, realizing that someone, in a moment of frustration, can make a choice that has the potential to completely destroy another person’s life.

Within five issues, the series differentiates the types of burdens that can (and should) be shared with those around us and the types of burdens that we have to carry alone. It reminds us that we are responsible for our actions and the consequences that come forthwith, but doesn’t allow that lesson to land as instruction to isolate. Hawkeye vs. Deadpool is a story about guilt and atonement, but it’s also a story about power and how we choose to wield it, reminding us how much power we wield, even in our own daily lives.

This series is a great example of layered storytelling in what could have easily been a throwaway storyline. Though there’s nothing wrong with a light and fun wacky adventure, when that fun wacky adventure is built upon real emotion, we get something we can talk about and return to.

Which is what I hope this column will begin to highlight, as I return to runs of comics that may not have necessarily made a huge splash, but have something within them that is worth pointing out.

So welcome to Run Amok, and go enjoy some comics.

 

Tiffany Babb is a writer, poet and comics critic based in New York whose work has been featured in Panel x Panel as well as Women Write About Comics. You can find more from her on her website here, and follow her on Twitter here!