Kill Train #1: Surprisingly Bright

It’s long past time for New York City to do something about its overpopulation. No doubt there are many possible solutions. But the city’s transportation authority decides that randomly killing people on the subway is the best one. Hence Kill Train #1.

Vanessa’s immediate problems when her day begins in Kill Train #1 is not a Kill Train, though. She’s just moved in with her fiancé because she’s broke. Her agent has told her that her latest project was rejected. Her mother thinks she has a mental disorder. Vanessa is having a bad day, and it just keeps getting worse.

Kill Train #1’s first three pages are an obvious setup for some kind of horror story. The first two pages open on a train full of horrifically murdered people. A few barely survived. First responders rush to their aid. But rather than save the survivors, they spend page three killing them. This fake-out, more a result of reader assumptions than anything on the page, creates a dark bit of humor to open the issue and sets the stage for the offbeat comic to follow.

Vanessa’s introduction is not unlike Kill Train #1’s opening pages in how it sets the character up to be perceived in one way (happy, strong, and on top of her world) before almost immediately taking a sharp turn in a different direction. It’s a good introduction even though Vanessa herself isn’t the most engaging character. There’s a definite naivete about her as well as a lack of assertiveness. It keeps her from jumping off the page in an exciting way. But it leaves open the door for a story arc that heavily focuses on strengthening Vanessa as a person by the time everything is over.

Cuartero-Briggs creates an insane world that is populated largely by sane people. Indeed, as seen with main character Vanessa, some of them are even naïve in the face of a crazy setting. This strange duality makes Kill Train #1 an entertaining read even before the story moves to a Kill Train. The resulting offbeat tone (and the occasional jokes such as taking a dig at former mayor Rudy Giuliani) builds up the issue’s humor and effectively keeps a horror-type idea from morphing into a horror story in the first issue.

Despite Kill Train #1 resting on a very dark idea (albeit executed in a funny way), the first issue’s color palette is soft and bright. The color scheme isn’t going for colors so bright that they create sharp contrasts. But at the same time, Kill Train #1 seems to exist in a world mostly without shadows. Everything about the color scheme screams how upbeat a comic this actually is, and it feels of a piece with the character of Vanessa who is perpetually trying to hide behind a kind of faux positivity.

Though the color scheme is very slightly exaggerated to create a bright and colorful day, no doubt meant to contrast with future events that will unfold on a Kill Train, Niosi’s art is more restrained. Save for the first two pages, the issue is told from Vanessa’s point of view. She’s a very expressive character, but in ordinary ways. She bites her lip in frustration. Her face is blank when indecisive or worried. Subtle lines and shading differentiate smiles resulting from true happiness and smiles put on for other people’s benefit.

These expressions already work on their own. But Niosi emphasizes them with subtle and light shading under and over Vanessa’s eyes, on her cheekbones, and beneath and next to her mouth. This subtle emphasis, as opposed to more liberal linework to define her emotions at any given time, fits with the surrounding world established by D’Angelo’s coloring.

The one part of Kill Train #1 that does go visually over the top is inside a Kill Train. Niosi and D’Angelo do not hold back on the blood, gore, and horrific corpses. But the color retains its vibrancy and Niosi’s art leans into exaggerated expressions and actions. The result is an inviting comic that avoids descending fully into horror.

Experiences from Vanessa’s day weigh on her late in the issue. Indeed, Niosi draws her as being almost in a trance. Various lines of dialogue from her day repeat in her head as she moves through panels. Carey gives these repeated dialogue snippets an almost ethereal quality. She leaves them plain white against a darker color scheme. Some of them are wavy, as though caught in a breeze or floating on the surface of water. Carey’s lettering choices, as much as the art and coloring, help give the impression of a character lost in the moment–a critical condition given what happens after.