Predator Kills the Marvel Universe #1: Schlock Served Cold

While at first exciting, the sheer volume of Marvel vs. Predator tales since their initial debut has left the concept good for some shock panels and not much else. Ben Percy’s typical blend of rawness and edge has been dulled by the sour taste of corporate commitment found across all the titles, with Predator Kills the Marvel Universe #1 being the worst example thus far of how bland and predictable these books have become.

With just how often someone “kills the Marvel Universe” these days, books within this Marvel publishing motif have to rise above the simple shock of seeing beloved heroes shredded into pieces. There is no true shock-jock potential in the world of corporate comics anymore—violence is just another selling point to churn out cheap advertising as titles are left depthless and drab, the establishment fully accepting only the surface-level potential of taboo material in the most empty ways.

Predator Kills the Marvel Universe #1 does nothing to circumvent this as an opening issue. It builds no tension, sets up nothing of substance in its imagery or writing, and worst of all, commits to a shared continuity that fails to inspire any interesting narrative points. Instead, it collapses under its own weight, serving better as a showcase for even more Funko Pops coming to a landfill near you.

It’s made even more difficult to stomach given Ben Percy’s own storied legacy as a Marvel author who has excelled with darker material. His work on Wolverine and Ghost Rider sang with moody flair and danced with strong character themes that never forgot to implement the rule of cool—and that purity is sorely missed in this debut issue. Unless you enjoy inconsistent, muddy depictions of your favorite heroes being sent to the grave with poor, surface-level characterizations, this is one to skip.