El Perro Loco.
The Mad Dog.
The Dog is back, in all his evil glory. The Devil saves the day. And the graves of issue 1 were, by a twist of anticipation in Azzarello’s best style, not those that I have been anticipating since that summer month when this off-handed, off-reservation sequel to 100 Bullets first hit my expectations.
I have gone back to look, in between these paragraphs, at the man in the Hawaiian shirt, digging graves (small ‘g’). Digging graves, throwing down earth upon cofins bearing the cross, erecting crosses to stand guard upon bodies. I’ve been played, in the manner Azz does best, knowing I would assume he was again beginning with the ending, but though this is indeed the ending, these are not the graves of Father Manny or Sister June, nor of anyone from the orphanage.
There are deaths in this story, deaths loud, rapid and concise. But Father Manny lives, albeit with the eyes burned out of his head from the desert sun, and Linda May, who we have known as Sister June, lives, albeit with a bullet in her side that makes certainty on this subject a dangerous thing. Craneo is dead, Maddon escapes with one hand, Cortez attempts to save his homunculus twin from wolves.
But the only person who dies that the Dog might have respect enough for to bury is Brother Lono.
So whose graves were they? Not those who died in Miami, except perhaps in symbol. And what the story doesn’t tell us, Azz will never disclose. It is for each of us to decide what shape the picture takes on the box lid, from the pieces that surround it.
The Dog is back. And, should Azzarello and Risso, with that loyal band, Dennis, Johnson, Mulvihill and Robins, choose to take it, the road back to Miami is again open. What happened to America when the Trust fell? When the Minutemen ceased to be? A Dog might want a bone to worry at.
South of the Border, down Mexico way… An interlude ends.