- He tells John he is a “very lucky man” to have survived.
- As the doctor speaks, John sees smoke rising from him.
- As John navigates the office, his internal monologue reveals his isolation.
- John dives into other cases, interviewing Mrs.
- The smoke coalesces into a “cool, green voice” that whispers to him: BREATHE IN.
- John flees, feeling like an alien on his own planet.
In Absolute Martian Manhunter #1, writer Deniz Camp and artist Javier Rodríguez introduce us to a John Jones who is less a superhero and more a haunted detective, trapping us in a noir-drenched psychological thriller. This isn’t the oreo-loving J’onn J’onzz of the Justice League International; this is a man drowning in the noise of human consciousness. Here is a detailed breakdown of the story, page by page.
The Philosophy of Violence
The issue opens not with action, but with a question. Against a stark backdrop, we hear the disembodied voice of Agent John Jones being tested—or perhaps interrogated. He poses chilling rhetorical questions: “Why do some people become firefighters, and others arsonists? Why do some people become doctors, while others become killers?”
Visually, we are treated to the moody, shadow-heavy art style that defines this book. John is asked if he can hear the speaker, but he is lost in his own existential musings about human nature. He wonders why two specific people fall in love, or why someone wakes up one day and decides to blow up a coffee shop. It sets the tone immediately: John is a man obsessed with the why of human behavior, a trait that makes him a brilliant investigator but also dangerously detached.
The Hospital and the First Signs
We transition to a hospital room. John is recovering from an explosion—specifically, a bombing at a coffee shop. A doctor is examining his brain scans, noting a “light concussion” and some swelling. He tells John he is a “very lucky man” to have survived.
Here, we get the first glimpse of John’s emerging ability—or affliction. As the doctor speaks, John sees smoke rising from him. It’s not physical fire; it’s something else. John casually lights a cigarette in the hospital room (or appears to), shocking the doctor. But John’s response is cryptic. He reveals he knows the doctor is distracted because his wife is having an affair. He deduced this not through evidence, but through a terrifying new intuition. The smoke isn’t coming from a cigarette; it’s coming from the doctor’s mind.
Family vs. The Mission
John returns to his family, but the reunion is fraught with tension. His wife, Bridget, pleads with him to stay home. “I need you, John. Tyler needs you,” she says, referring to their son. We learn that Tyler has a speech therapist appointment, hinting at developmental challenges that add stress to the household. Bridget feels isolated in their new home of Middleton, having moved there for John’s job.
But John is distant. He is triggered by a memory of a desert camping trip with his father, recalling the phrase “Saddle up, partner.” Instead of resting, he returns to the FBI’s Stochastic Terrorism Task Force.
At the office, his superior tries to put him on administrative leave. The boss argues that after surviving an explosion, John needs time to recover. But John fights back. He reveals that he manipulated the hospital doctor into clearing him for duty by leveraging the man’s personal marital crisis. It’s a cold, calculated move that shocks his wife when she finds out. “How can you be so cool about all this?!” she screams. John is unphased, insisting that his work—identifying threats before they happen—is the only thing that matters.
The “Martian” of the Bureau
John is allowed to stay but is barred from the specific coffee shop bombing case, which is being handled by a rival agent named Newell. As John navigates the office, his internal monologue reveals his isolation. He knows Newell hates him and calls him “The Martian” behind his back—a derogatory nickname for his cold, alien demeanor.
John dives into other cases, interviewing Mrs. Miller, the mother of the suspected bomber, Mike Miller. He is looking for patterns, trying to make the world “not random.” This is the core of “stochastic” terrorism—finding the signal in the noise. But the noise is getting louder. John begins to realize he knows things he shouldn’t: that the bomber’s mother hates pickles, or that the bomber had a secret affair with his best friend. The information assaults him, visualizing as thick, suffocating smoke.
The Descent into Thoughtsmoke
The narrative takes a psychedelic turn as John’s perception of reality fractures. He starts seeing “abstracted canyons beyond physics and form” and “waves of quantum foam.” He tries to maintain normalcy at home with his son, Tyler, who is drawing pictures late at night. But John is terrified. He can’t stop thinking about “the smoke” and the monsters waiting inside it.
John returns to work early, driven by a compulsion he can’t control. He visits the scene of the crime or perhaps returns to Mrs. Miller. As she grieves, crying that her son was a “good boy,” steam pours from her ears “like an angry cartoon.” John breathes it in. He inhales her memories—her pride, her son’s first day of school, the crushing disappointment of a father leaving.
The metaphor becomes literal. John realizes the smoke is Thoughtsmoke. It’s ideas oxidizing in the open air. He walks through the city and sees everyone on fire. Librarians, lawyers, construction workers—they are all burning with their secret thoughts, and John is the only one who can smell the smoke.
The Voice in the Smoke
The sensory overload becomes a horror show. The smoke coalesces into a “cool, green voice” that whispers to him: BREATHE IN.
John flees, feeling like an alien on his own planet. Fire hydrants and roads look like foreign objects. He runs past a police station, his vision shifting into X-Ray mode, seeing through walls and people. The voice grows louder, claiming ownership of him: “YOU ME WE ARE TALKING.”
It reminds him of the explosion. “No. Not Miracle. Us.” The voice reveals that the explosion didn’t just spare him; it awakened something. “MIND HUNT KILL REDEEM SAVE HEAL ER.” The entity within identifies itself. He is not just John Jones. He is something else.
The Revelation
The climax of the issue is a meta-fictional device. The comic instructs the reader to “activate YOUR Martianvision” by holding page 25 up to the light. This physical interaction mimics John’s own breakthrough, peering through the veil of reality to see the hidden truth underneath. It signifies the full awakening of the Martian Manhunter persona—a being forged in the fire of human consciousness, rising from the ashes of John Jones’ sanity.
