Brubaker and Phillips bring it this issue and hard. In the lead up to the release of The Last of the Innocent, writer Ed Brubaker admitted to a great deal of influence on the story by events in his own life–such as the recent passing of his father and Ed’s own fondness for Archie comics–which gave the first issue read a hint of the autobiographic. Hopefully for Mrs. Brubaker, Ed’s not planning anything like what Riley has in store for his philandering, filthy rich wife Felix.

Fed up with the sullen, plodding routine of resentment that has entered their relationship, not to mention not having all of her money, protagonist Riley takes it on himself to take her out. The story beats are all there for a Criminal book which requires the set-up and the casing-the-joint part of the job but this issue is every bit as gripping and unpredictable as the previous stories, if not more so. Assisting in strengthening my (affection may be too strong for these noir types so let us say) interest in the characters are the flashbacks, during which artist Sean Phillips and colorist Val Staples work pure magic. I already loved the simplified, Archiefied style that they used to evoke “the by-gone era of youth,” and I’m not big on nostalgia but it really worked on me. But when Riley and the gang are portrayed as young adults or teenagers, the linework is the same and the colors still bright and pastel, but the classic Phillips shading has begun to bleed in, driving home how adult life takes its toll on Riley’s youthful exuberance. In just under a page, we’ve followed his entire journey into misery.

All the more gut-wrenching, then, are the depths Riley will take to regain that former glory. My heart broke right in twain seeing Riley and his best friend Freakshow simply sitting and talking on the hood of a car. No big action splash pages or sci-fi contrivances needed (as much as I love those) but with a little nudge of narration, some meaningful tight shots, rapid fire panels, I damn well near cried. This description may read nebulously but I don’t want to give the scene’s content away. Just trust me; it’s harsh.

In the second to last page, another testament to the monumental effectiveness of the creative team, a Watchmen-like 9-panel grid amps up the suspense as well as the depth of the character. Even angles of movement and framing harken back to Moore & Gibbon’s multi-layered epic. In 1 & 4 (left side panels) Riley stalks through the darkness, 2 & 5 (middle panels) he sneaks up stairs, 3 & 6 (right side panels) he looks down, hunched over. These 3 sets of parallels are contrasted by the Archie-style panels 6-9: (left) in a bright room, surrounded by people, (middle) he looks down at his curtseying date, (right) the last smile of the story, and likely the series, Riley looks skyward. And these are just the things I caught. Brubaker promised this was his best Criminal arc yet, and that he was working in deeper meanings to the storytelling than ever before, and I’m inclined to agree on both counts. This is a must buy (and trade waiters are missing out on great articles and bonus painted art in the back matter).