4 out of 5

Bridget goes undercover to suss out more Sect activity at Junot house.

While Brink’s third story outing doesn’t, for most of its pages, expand on the concept further, Abnett balances out the lack of concept / world-building by fully ratcheting up the tension, as Bridget is on the brink (yar) of being discovered as soon as she sets foot inside big ol’ bad corporate.  The brief bits of inner workings we get to see are also interesting, and then the air of secrecy around them adds to the nerviness of Kurtis’ task, as she’s pretty much b.s.ing her way from one conversation to the next.

A kooky H.R. leader and a bull-headed security agent are our main points of contact, with a cold-open of a Sect sacrifice in the bowels of the building letting us know that there’s definitely going to be some kind of showdown later on.  And sure enough: in the book’s most riveting sequence, things go to hell, and Brink explodes with a violence and veracity we haven’t yet seen.  Most satisfyingly, Abnett doesn’t just let this conclude as another HSD case closed: Bridget has some lingering questions, which lead her to an insanely intriguing theory I hope is explored next arc.

And now: the art.

I don’t like I.N.J. Culbard, but other people (I presume) do.  If I’m favorable toward his overly simplistic style, its worked in places, including corridor-enclosed portions of Brink: he works okay in tight spaces, when action and character expression are kept to a minimum.  But damn, some of his faces just look so off-model here it’s amateurish, and Junot, being a ‘bigspace’ with lots of impressive rooms and giant areas, is not well served by the artist.  There’s not not an appropriate sense of visual scope.  Brink volume three could’ve been that much more striking with an artist with a bit of a stronger hand at working with complex characters and sets, although fair enough, during that ‘gone to hell’ sequence, I.N.J.’s looseness is effectively surreal.