Panel 1: Chloroform alert! Chloroform alert! Or was this instead the more obscure anaesthetic halothane, as previously seen in an Empowered vol. 1 story? Who knows? In any event, stand by for a later story in this very volume dealing with the exotic subculture of chloroform fetishism, which is something I stumbled across in an online discussion of the aforementioned vol. 1 scene. In any event, note that whatever the compound involved, it wasn’t invoked in the usual narratively convenient form of rendering the protagonist unconscious. (Remember, as discussed earlier, the gender-based tropes of Narratively Convenient Unconsciousness: Heroes get knocked out by a sharp rap on the noggin, while heroines—or distressed damsels, at least—get knocked out by the less violent but nigh-ubiquitous chloroform-soaked rag.)

Also, Waspwaisted Emp alert! Waspwaisted Emp alert! I don’t quite characterize this page’s Emp images as notable cases of the oft-mentioned Mysteriously Intermittent Post-Millennial Torso Glitch that plagued my decade-ago artwork, as these drawings lack the wonky, serpentine, distorted quality of a true “MIPMTG” example. Nahh, instead I’d just say that I drew Emp with way too skinny of a waist in these shots, perhaps in a bit of failed Bruce Timm or Shane Glines emulation. Not, as I recall, that all that many—or, possibly, any—readers complained about this cartoony flourish back in the day; in fact, I’ve already fielded far more complaints about present-day Emp’s thicker waist than I ever did about 2008-Era too-skinny Emp. (I anticipate far more such sniping after Empowered vol. 10 comes out this June, alas.) 

Panel 3: Had to rescan these old pages due to technical issues, and noticed the dialogue was once different. Drugged-up Emp was originally groaning "Please... don't...", which I replaced with the more defiant "You... assholes...!" to grant poor Emp a li'l more agency. (And Lord knows she needs all the agency she can get in this rather skeevy story.)

-Adam Warren