One-sentence summary: I wonder how many people even realize/care this title exists?
I don't even understand the purpose for this title. Did Liefeld come by, hobo-hat in hand, fingerless gloves extended in bowl shape hoping for some change, worn pencil tucked behind his ear, ratty trenchcoat almost hiding incredibly tiny ballerina feet? That is how I see this comic coming to be; between the overly-Lefield art, the horrible material, and the plodding story being told by Loeb (which I would describe as surreal in that there's no explanation given for how it started, but it's not so much surreal here as it's just bad writing), this has to be a contender for one of Marvel's worst titles. Thankfully it's almost over.
Seriously, what inspired this? Were there picket lines of angry fans demanding to see more Onslaught, to know what became of the Heroes Reborn planet (wasn't it in Exiles the other month?), to see Franklin Richards in a comic-form that's not entertaining? I only hope this isn't Marvel's awkward introduction to a whole new line of Heroes Reborn/Onslaught comics, because that would be stupid beyond words.
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