Secret Six number 9 is not a comic book; it’s a conversation, quite a lovely one in fact. Let me explain. Due to the power and stinging voice of fan culture, comics have evolved in the 21st century into a uniquely fantastic pop art form. Comic professionals and their readers are no longer separated by the typical walls that have that have always defined the relationship between the creator and admirer. Through interviews on ifanboy and wordballoon and a thousand other worthy locations, the admirers have gotten to know the ambitions, foibles, and ticks of these creators. By viewing real-time reactions to their work throughout media, these creators live in a world of instant feedback from their admirers on these same ambitions, foibles, and ticks. In admiring comics, the admirer brings this extra-textual knowledge of the creator; just as in creating comics, the creator acknowledges and responds to this extra-textual knowledge.

The end result of this odd, wonderful relationship between celebrity and celebrator is a creative product that neither exist on its own terms or just exists to be interpreted, but must be read in the context of not a theoretical but an actual give and take, or conversation, between the creator and the admirer. It’s as if comics plowed through the post-modern crisis of 1986 to emerge 20 years later with a new conception of how to read and write in this medium—call it supermodernism.

This issue of Secret Six exemplifies this new creative style and demonstrates the great pleasures that can be drawn its methods. Though she has a fun idea that could easily be played straight (bad guys doing good in Gotham to realize their hidden ambition to be Batman), throughout the issue, Simone is constantly acknowledging that these characters are in fact “characters” that exist in a fairly absurd comic universe full of silly men in silly tights saying silly things. Her tongue is so far in her cheek, it warps her voice into something truly transcendent. Ragdoll dressing up as golden age Robin and quoting the Batman TV show; Nightwing’s gratuitous male ass shot; Bane’s constant references to back breaking; Catman’s denial of being a Batman clone—and dozens of other examples are not here to support the story. These moments are meant to speak directly the reader, to say to us that she understands that we worship the history of these ridiculous, amazing characters, and she’s willing to play with that. In response, we post that we understood that she understood our understanding, and we loved it—and back and forth, and on and on, adding layers of complication and fun to what to outsiders may look like a fairly conventional and adolescent adventure. When we read Secret Six #9, we are not reading a comic; we are participating in a conversation on the history of comics and the potential and limitation of a genre and a medium.

All that, and, let’s face it, these guys are pretty bad ass. And how awesome is that? Right, Gail?