“On your feet, soldier. You’ve just been drafted. This is a war.” — Agent Graves
With A Foregone Tomorrow, Brian Azzarello and Eduardo Risso make it clear that 100 Bullets is done merely teasing the larger story behind Agent Graves, the Trust, and the Minutemen. The earlier volumes built their appeal around a very simple but powerful idea: Graves finds someone whose life has been ruined, hands them a briefcase containing a gun, proof, and one hundred untraceable bullets, then leaves them to decide what revenge is worth. That premise is still present here, but it no longer feels like the whole series. This fourth collection, which gathers issues #20-30, is where the long-running conspiracy really begins stepping out from the shadows. The Trust finally feels like a real organization rather than a few names being dropped in dark rooms, the Minutemen begin to take clearer shape, and Agent Graves starts to look less like a cryptic avenger and more like a man moving pieces around a board that only he fully understands.
The collection opens with “The Mimic,” and it is a good representation of what this volume does best. Azzarello ties together two conversations that seem unrelated at first: one involving Mr. Shepherd and Benito Medici, and another taking place at street level among people trying to survive in a world where even the smallest patch of territory has consequences. The contrast is important. On one side are the rich, insulated people who control entire criminal and financial networks without ever getting their own hands dirty. On the other are the desperate hustlers, dealers, addicts, and low-level criminals who are usually the first ones to bleed when those powerful people make a move. 100 Bullets has always had a strong sense of class anger under all the pulp dialogue and gunplay, but this volume puts that feeling more directly into the story.
Benito Medici is one of the most interesting additions here because he does not initially come across as the kind of polished, ruthless heir one would expect from the Trust. He seems immature, reckless, and more interested in enjoying the benefits of his family name than understanding what it costs other people. But Azzarello does not make him a joke. Benito is a spoiled rich kid, sure, but he is also a young man slowly realizing that he has been born into something dangerous and ancient. The Medici name gives him protection, money, and influence, but it also makes him a target. That uneasy realization gives his scenes some real tension. He is not just learning how much power his father Augustus has; he is learning that power in this world is never free.
The Trust itself is probably the biggest reason A Foregone Tomorrow feels like such a major turning point. Earlier books gave readers names like Augustus Medici and Megan Dietrich, along with hints about a hidden system that existed beyond regular crime families and street gangs. Here, the curtain gets pulled back much further. The Trust is revealed as a collection of powerful old families whose influence stretches across the country, while the Minutemen were created as their enforcers and internal police. The scope is suddenly much bigger than one person deciding whether to pull the trigger on somebody who wronged them. Agent Graves is not simply handing out opportunities for revenge. He is using those opportunities to destabilize a system that has spent generations protecting itself.
That expansion does make the book denser than the first three collections. Readers who liked the clean, self-contained revenge stories from First Shot, Last Call may need a little patience here. Azzarello is deliberately withholding information, and a lot of dialogue involves people speaking around the truth rather than plainly stating it. Characters mention events, names, and old betrayals that do not fully make sense until later. But that is also part of the fun. 100 Bullets is becoming a crime epic where every casual insult, odd coincidence, and brief appearance may eventually matter. The book trusts readers to keep up, and even when the plot gets murky, it rarely stops being compelling.
The Jack Daw material is probably the weakest portion of the collection, though it still has its uses. Jack is a huge, self-destructive junkie who already has one of Graves’s cases when the reader meets him. That is an interesting reversal of the usual formula because we do not see the initial pitch or the moment of temptation. We are instead dropped into the aftermath of a man who has already been given a chance to change his life and has clearly made a mess of it. Jack is not especially sympathetic, and the story never quite reaches the emotional impact of Dizzy Cordova’s or Loop Hughes’s earlier arcs. Still, he feels like another example of the kind of damaged person Graves is collecting. He is not a hero waiting to be awakened. He is a wrecking ball waiting for someone to point him in a direction.
The more memorable material comes from the way Azzarello keeps connecting old threads to new ones. Mr. Branch, who has spent much of the series trying to understand the conspiracy around Graves, becomes increasingly important as someone who sees patterns other characters are too close to notice. The story also takes a detour into the past with a strange, darkly funny episode involving baseball, Hollywood, and the Kennedy assassination. It is the kind of side story that might feel random in another series, but it works here because it reinforces the sense that Agent Graves has been active for a very long time. His briefcases are not a recent hobby. They are part of a much older game.
There is also an unexpectedly funny stretch involving a trip to Mexico, though the humor never makes the story feel safe. Azzarello has a talent for writing characters who can trade ridiculous insults and crude jokes one minute, then become frighteningly violent the next. That tonal balance is one of the things that keeps 100 Bullets from becoming unbearably grim. These people are living ugly lives in ugly places, but they still have personality. They still argue, posture, flirt, lie, and make each other laugh. The humor is usually mean, but it feels authentic to the world rather than forced comic relief.
Eduardo Risso remains the series’ secret weapon, even though by this point it is hard to call him a secret. His art gives every character an immediately recognizable silhouette and attitude. There are a lot of people in this volume, including gangsters, Trust members, old associates, street criminals, and potential Minutemen, yet Risso makes it easy to tell them apart. Benito looks like a privileged kid trying to wear confidence like a costume. Shepherd always carries himself with quiet control. Graves is still composed and unreadable, like somebody who has already calculated every possible outcome before entering the room.
Risso’s layouts are especially strong in the opening material, where different conversations and locations are visually paired to show how the powerful and powerless reflect each other. He can make a simple exchange in a park, a bar, or a hotel suite feel loaded with menace. His use of shadows, extreme angles, and stylized expressions gives the book its distinctive noir personality, but he never lets the style overwhelm the storytelling. You always know where to look and what emotional beat matters most. The guest pinup pages included around the original twenty-fifth issue are a neat bonus, though they do not have the same storytelling impact as Risso’s regular pages.
A Foregone Tomorrow is not as emotionally focused as Hang Up on the Hang Low, and it can feel more like a bridge volume than a completely self-contained story. But it is a very important bridge. This is where the series proves that its revenge setup was never just a clever anthology gimmick. The briefcases, bullets, and personal vendettas are all part of a larger conflict between men and women who believe they own the world and the people willing to burn that world down. By the end, Agent Graves is still mysterious, the Trust is still dangerous, and the Minutemen are only beginning to emerge from the past. But the road ahead is much clearer, and much more threatening.
100 Bullets Vol. 4: A Foregone Tomorrow is a strong, complicated, and occasionally messy installment that rewards readers who have been paying attention. Azzarello continues building the series into a sprawling noir conspiracy filled with damaged people, crooked power structures, and revenge that never comes without a price. Risso keeps the whole thing looking stylish, dangerous, and alive. It may not be the easiest volume to jump into, but for anyone following the series from the beginning, this is the point where the larger machine finally starts roaring to life.
100 Bullets Volume Reviews
Through the Shattered Lens 