Back when I was a regular comic reader, going out dutifully on Mondays and Wednesdays to hit three different variety stores to ensure I got my requisite haul (this was before the days of comic shops, kids, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and Stan Lee still had some non-grey hair), the two comics I got most excited about were the Uncanny X-Men, and Shang Chi, Master of Kung Fu.

Yeah, I liked the Kung Fu angle, but the creative team on MOKF, Doug Moench and Paul Gulacy, were wizards. Moench was writing brilliant stuff, weaving James Bond spyworks with ancient mysticism and somehow tying Fleetwood Mac's Rumours album into the mix. And damn, it worked.

So when I saw Marvel had put out a new MOKF story, I was intrigued. When I saw it was a Moench/Gulacy collaboration, I was excited.

And when I read it, I was underwhelmed. The magic just wasn't there anymore. This was more of a paint-by-numbers MOKF. It had all the ingredients, well, besides Fleetwood Mac. There was the Wu/Chi romance, there was the mysticism, there was the Bondian action. But, I don't know, maybe it was stirred, not shaken.

I was really disappointed when they fell back on a tried and true villain instead of breaking new ground. And, I guess, while it was enjoyable enough, this was the fundamental problem. Where MOKF had been new, and exciting, and edgy and, above all else, broke new ground...this felt safe.

Which is a shame. As a reader, I want to see a once-revered creative team go out in a blaze of glory, not a fizzle and pop. ( )