========================
========================
**Alternate X-Men #55**
Michael Triggs at TRIGGS_M@bentley.edu
========================
========================

Cover : The Faces Of Jean Grey, Bishop And Beast, an intense light reflecting
        off their faces, in an Arctic Climate, with snow blowing. They are
        staring at the source of the light, utterly amazed. Written at
        the bottom of the cover is "A Shimmer Of Hope".

==========================================================================
Story #1 : FireSign
==========================================================================

Scene : Alaska. What's left of a burning cottage and a burnt-out ship..
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

They stare in awe.. For years, the X-Men have been exposed to
things which normal humans never in a million years would have believed to
exist.. Yet, even these few remaining X-Men [Bishop, Jean Grey, Beast] feel
inclined to doubt their senses, passing off the flaming being standing in
front of them as a figment of their imagination..

He stands there, engulfed in bright light, two yellowish eyes
staring back at them in the distance. For a minute, he looks away, as if he 
has somewhere else to be. He flickers, like a candle, his hair reflecting 
this analogy, as if it were the lit end of a wick..

Jean Grey [the light reflecting off her bruised face] : Who are
you??

The stranger speaks, yet no mouth can be seen moving on the
stranger's face:

Firehair : You don't remember me, Red? I'm shocked. After all the
           good times we shared?? 

Jean Grey stares at the stranger, her gaze directed at him.

Firehair : Come now, Jeanie, this is no big mindboggler. Sheesh, you humans
           are stupid.

The lit being approaches Jean, hovering over the ground, as his reflection
can be seen depicted in its icy surface.

Firehair <reaching out to Jean, his fiery fingers outstretched> :Here's a 
                                                                 hint.

Bishop suddenly rips out his gun, pointing it at the stranger. The gun seems 
to be shaking a little bit. Apparently, even Bishop's nerves are shot a 
little.

Bishop : Why should we trust you? Give us one reason not to blow you full of
         holes right now??

Beast <grabbing Bishop by the arm> : Bish.. Aren't you overreacting just a
                                     little bit? He just saved our life..

Bishop <grabbing gun back> : In my time, we called it crossblade killing. 
                             They would save you, only to kill you while 
                             you let your guard down.. How do we know he's 
                             not some clever pawn of Sinister's?

Suddenly, the gun floats away from Bishop, blowing up above him.
The fiery individual retreats to a rock, holding his hand under
his head.

Firehead <yawning> : If you want to know if I'm working for Sinister, why
                     not ask, you loser, instead of pointing that silly 
                     shooting thingy at me?

Bishop <pulling out another gun> : Because you might BE lying?

The other gun melts in Bishop's hand.

Firehead : Of course, I might be not. However, this isn't getting
           us anywhere..

Jean presses her hand to her head, as she feels her consciousness slip from
her body..

================
The Astral Plane
================

She hovers in the middle of everything, as her body passes through tangible
objects in the physical realm.. Jean Grey is alone.. Or is she?? A voice
speaks, echoing with incredible volume over the psychic plane..
                     
Voice : Fine, now that I've managed to get you away from that other gun-toting
        clown, we can finally have an intelligent conversation. Sheesh, the
        things you have to do..

Jean Grey's head spins around, looking for the stranger..

Jean Grey : Where are you? Who are you? Why do you insist on playing these      
            games?

Voice : Geez, somebody here is paranoid. I just saved your life, for crying 
        out loud. Fine! If you want to know where I am, I'm all around you. 
        If you want to know who I am, then here's a hint. (Damn, I hate using 
        these cliched icons, but it seems to be the only thing that you 
        Earth people will respond to..)

Suddenly, the entire astral plane flares up. The form of a fiery bird, which
Jean has seen on many occasions, appears, hovering in mid-air.. The incredible
light diverts Jean's glare, as she finds it too much for eyes.. Although, 
while her eyes wants to pull away, she can feel something inside her wanting 
to get closer to this being. 

Jean Grey <astounded> : The PHOENIX??? You can't be the Phoenix! She left
                        forever!*

(*Excalibur.. Late 50s -Mike.)

(The form of the stranger becomes more humanoid.)

The Stranger : Well, we had a conflict of opinion, Red..

Jean Grey : What do you mean "we"?

(The form of the stranger shrinks down to human size, patting Jean on the
shoulder.. He shakes his head..)

The Stranger : No.. Not "We-Me-You".. I mean "We-Me-Her".. Heck, this 
               language just ain't right for depicting concepts like this..

Jean Grey : But there is only one Phoenix..

The Stranger <a buzzing noise> : Errnt.. Sorry, wrong answer.. Thanks to her
                                 interaction with you guys, and getting divided
                                 up every which way, she sort of learned 
                                 individuality.. Or, should I say We, not
                                 you/me, but me/her, learned individuality..

Jean scratches her head, in apparent confusion.

The Stranger <beginning to fade> : Nevermind. You'll understand in time. Let
                                   me just put it this way : 

The Stranger divides into a series of people, some of whom Jean
recognizes, and some of whom she is unfamiliar with.. The forms of Jean Grey,
Feron, Necrom, Rachel Summers, and another blurry person hover in space..

Voices : For each host we have, a trace of the host remains with us.. A 
         residue of sorts.. We wanted to leave you, to avoid your people's 
         emotions, yet once we've had contact with these human features.. 
         Well, let's just put it this way.. There was a little disagreement..

The Stranger melds into one form again.. His attributes are becoming more
blurry by the second, and his voice becomes more distant..

Voice <fading> : I've helped you all I can.. Sorry I can't help you more, but
                 I'm still not ready to come out of my shell yet.. It's not
                 ready for me yet, nor am I ready for it..

Jean : But what about Wolverine? My husband? Can you help us save
       them?

Voice <down to a whisper> : Wolverine? OH, I did forget to save him, didn't I?
                            Oops. <cynical sound in his voice> As far as your
                            husband goes, I fear it may be too late for him.
                             
Silent tears seem to be showing signs of trailing down her cheeks. She tries 
to hold them in. To hide her emotions. Yet some things just aren't possible..

Voice <really soft> : Oh come on.. Don't go soft on me now.. Keep your head
                      up..  Dream the dream.. Follow the rainbow.. Eat your
                      Wheaties..
                    
<voice fading out>

-*-

Scene : A large shell of a ship. Parts of it appear to be scorched. It sits
        in the Alaskan wasteland. Once shipworthy, this Blackbird belonging
        to the X-Men isn't going anywhere in its current shape. Voices
        speak, going back and forth.

Beast : .. The main engine is totally burnt.. There is very little chance
           of us getting this airworthy in the near future.. Threnody 
           apparently left her mark before she bit the big one..

Bishop <dropping head> : I've done a perimeter search. The Stranger is gone.. 
                         Nor could I find - any other life..

Beast <a grimace on his face> : And that very well may be our last hope for
                                saving Jean.. I hate to be the one to point 
                                this out, but the days of Xavier's dream .. 
                                seem very numbered .. in light of the 
                                current situation.. First Scott, then 
                                Logan, now this..

Bishop <shaking> : But this isn't right! None of this is supposed to be
                   happening! The X-Men were legends in my time. They
                   weren't supposed to fall apart like this. It's almost
                   as if time is caving in on itself. Changing.

Jean awakens to voices. Neither of these voices noting that she is awake yet, 
they speak to each other, with a somber tone. She feels the coldness of metal
against her back..

Bishop <eyeballing his gun> : I, feel somewhat responsible for Jean's tragedy.
                              Perhaps I am somehow changing time? What if it
                              is my existence in this era that caused this to 
                              happen?

Beast <head down> : You can't blame yourself. Time doesn't work in such a 
                    manner. Luckily.. Jean's condition simply -is-.. That's
                    all there is to say.. Who can we blame for it?

Jean throws herself up quickly.

Jean : And what condition -might- that be that is?

Beast and Bishop both spin around quickly. Bishop draws his gun,
instinctively.

Beast <puzzled> : Jean? You're alive? 

Bishop <dropping gun> : The Stranger.. When he disappeared, you dropped to
                        the ground.. Went flatline..

Jean : Well, I'm fine now.. We have bigger problems to deal with..
       Have you dug up Logan yet? Once his healing factor kicks in he should
       be --

Beast : <silence>

Jean <staring at Beast> : -- fine?

Bishop : We're sorry. We couldn't find Logan. I thoroughly checked through
         the rubble.. Couldn't find anything..

Beast : I fear that even Logan's healing factor couldn't even put him back
        together after a pointblank explosion like that.. "All the king's
        horses.. And all the king's men, couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back
        together again.."

Jean <annoyed> : One of our best friends is reduced to ashes, and you're
                 quoting NURSERY RHYMES???

Beast has always tried to make light of bad situations.. Now he learns that he
chose a bad time to put this habit to use..

Beast : Look, Jean, I'm sorry.. I'm as saddened as you are.. 

Bishop : I am as well. Expressing emotions has never been easy for me.
         As a soldier, I was always trained to hold control them..
         I've seen so many people die over the years --

A loud thumping can be heard coming from outside the ship.. Silence breaks out
between the threesome, as a loud knocking can be heard coming from the
other side of the exit panel on the Blackbird.

Jean prances quietly over to the door, as Bishop trails her, holding his gun
upright. Another loud tapping..

Jean backs away, using a TK push to shove the door, as it opens with a 
creaking noise. The inside of the ship is illuminated by the brightness of 
the Alaskan sun. And a shadow stands in the middle of this illumination, 
which reflects off the faces of Jean, Bishop, and Hank, which suddenly burst 
into some cruel combination of astonishment and shock.

A gurgling noise..  The shadow of an appendage reaching out..

Jean <turning pale> : Wolverine?

TO BE CONTINUED..

=============================================================================== 
 -End Story #1-
===============================================================================

-\/- Story #2 : The Houses Of The Division   -\/-
-/\-------------------------------------------/\-

======================================
Scene : Sinister's Colorado Factory HQ
======================================

He sits at a terminal, in the dank dungeon of a place that has been his home 
for the last six months or so. 

Nathaniel Essex sits at the computer, as data images pass by his face, 
partially illuminating the ruby glasses which mask the real man hiding inside 
this shell of a body*. His thoughts flow almost as fast as his keystrokes
do. Thoughts of the recent past..

[Sinister's mind possessed Scott's body back in issue #53 -Mike]

"This just isn't right. Something is seriously wrong here. It should have
worked! His body is strong enough to handle the new essence I've instilled in
it, and his genetic structure is very resilient, so there shouldn't be any
major changes to it! There weren't any problems when I overlapped the 
Vertigo X-Gene over his own, or Arclight's, or that of the Mexican 
household.. So, why is this any different?"

Sinister walks over to the stasis chamber holding the body of what was, and
what might possibly no longer be his henchman, Ruckus. He fingers the
transparent monitoring panel on the top of the metallic cylinder, running his
hands across it carefully, trying to clear the residue developing on it enough
to peer inside. He returns his stare to a screen linked to the stasis chamber,
shining its messages in bright red.

*************************************************************
"GENO-MORPH PROCESS - CRITICAL ERROR - DISENGAGED AT 15:12"
"Genetic Mal : 3%  Psionic Dom : 98% BEACON : Connect"
*************************************************************

"The beacon worked perfectly. I can sense IT is there within him. So, what can
possibly be wrong?" 

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of Sinister's mind, a voice speaks out.

"Are you to egotistical to realize that maybe there are some things that can't
 be controlled by your machinery? You're trying to cage an elephant with
 building blocks!"

-*-

"If that's the case, then maybe I need bigger building blocks. Perhaps a 
 little field trip is in order. I hate to leave Ruckus here unmonitored. 
 This could get messy. Damn you Slab for abandoning me. I wonder where that 
 peon snuck off to, anyways. I suppose I should have seen this coming with his
 sister missing*..

[*M.I.A. since #46]

Sinister's head drops from the difficulty of his decision. He is not sure
whether to be angry at Slab for taking off when he needed him the most, or to
admire him, for showing such love for his siblings, love which he hasn't been
able to show in full for such a long time, new body or not.

*fade out*

==========================
Scene : Brooklyn, New York
==========================

It's Rush Hour. Cars of different shapes and sizes do more honking than they do
moving. However, today things are a little bit different. When normally they
are honking at each other, today all the cars seem to have decided to pick a
mutual target to honk at.

His name is Slab. He's a little guy. He's crawling about in the middle of the
road, holding a magnifying glass to the ground. "Sis? You there sis?"

<Slab crawls about on his hands and knees.>

Guy From Red Car : Hey, get out of the road you lowlife! Get a $#@@ job!

Lady from Black Van : I hope you got life insurance, you nut!

Another Guy, watching from the sidewalk on a bicycle, throws his two cents to
the old man in the suit eating a hot dog next to him..

Another Guy <peering at Slab> : Geez, did he -like- lose a contact or 
                                something?

Old Man <munching on hot dog> : Well, it's certainly something important to
                                him, whatever it is.. You wonder what it 
                                could be..

<fade out>

==============================================================================
Scene : Somewhere Else..
==============================================================================

It is a metallic jungle. The wires hang from the gears and columns, like
great vines. Sparks of Energy hover through the air, leaping from one conduit
to another. The sky above glows with a halo of colors, as florescent strands
permeate through the sky. A gentle fog, more of a smoke than a mist, hovers in
the air, which is charged with a certain static, as little bursts of red 
energy pop out here and there.

She writes:

"Dear Diary : I've been in this mess for several weeks. The overload the
 other day burnt out my power source.. It took everything I had to get even
 the most basic electrical utilities up and running.. Things have been
 strange down here since the Visitor came.."

<closeup on the face of Thumbellina's face, which seems to show signs of
 frustration>

"Dear Diary : On a sidenote, remind me to kill Ruckus if I ever see him again.
 That's the last time I agree to go with him on a beer run.. He's probably
 in the lap of luxury right now, that lucky bastard, and here I am, stuck in
 the one place where both of my bosses wanted to be, and never could get to.."

<fadeout>

-*-

Scene
=====

Colorado. An abandoned factory. A dim light shines from the window. It's just
before dusk. The Colorado sun reddens the horizon, which can be seen over the
sand that constitutes this lonely corner of the state.

The factory sits in the quiet of its surroundings. The lights are on, but 
nobody is home. 

<A bicycle tire can be seen, partially obscured by a rotting bush.>

Tiny footsteps tap and poke at factory window. Tommy Alonzi and his close pal
Chuck have been warned by their parents about playing at the rusty ruins that
once were a prominent factory. 

-Of course, now that they have warned them to keep their hands out of
the cookie jar, it only makes them want the valued pastry inside a little bit
more.-

(So, with flashlights in hand, the daresome duo walks through the night air,
 which is barely affected by the turning of seasons from summer to fall.)

Tommy, about 12 or so, unscrews a low air vent, rusting from age, his equally
rusty red hair bristling in the desert wind. Chuck, a few years younger, and 
a few inches shorter than Tommy, stands behind him nervously. He drives 
himself to speak, reluctantly:

Chuck <itching scalp> : T-Tommy.. I don't think we should be doin this.

Tommy turns back, with a smug look on his face, turns back to Chucky, still
fingering the screwdriver with his hand.

Tommy [assertively, positioning glasses on face] : Oh, quit being a baby! 
       It's safe! This dump has been abandoned for years.   
                      
Chuck <twitching> : But what about ghosts? Mama says this place has ghosts.

Tommy <sour expression> : There are no such things as gho-

Tommy is cut off by an intense brightness, something that outshines even the
bright moon hovering over head.. Cut off mid-syllable, he turns around, only
to find the windows flickering with and incredible light, like some haunting
kaleidoscope.

Without a moment's hesitation, Chucky is down the hill, back to his bike, and
shooting up the stretch of road as fast as his legs can take him.

Tommy chases after him. 

"ChuCKy! Wait! There's gotta be a logical explanation."

Suddenly, something stops Tommy dead in his tracks. Two intense flames, shaped
like human eyes, reflects off his glasses. A humanoid-shaped flame. Paralyzed 
by fear, his eyes lock with those of whatever stopped him.  

The Flame <matter-of-factly> : Boo.

Suddenly, his motor-functions kick back in full blast, and he shoots towards 
his bike at high velocities, screaming the whole way..

-*-

The bicycles disappear from view, and all becomes quiet at the lonely factory
again. The place would seem abandoned, if it weren't for the ticking of
machinery coming from down below. 

Inside the factory sits some sort of containment chamber. Within the chamber,
sits a figure. Ruckus' body lies still, yet his thoughts are in constant 
movement:

Scene : The Human Mind
======================

A street. The lights of Las Vegas dance playfully at the skyline. A young boy,
whose curly hair blows in the wind, plays with his friends in the street.
Bicycles stream around the roads, as they play Cat and Mouse with each other.
There's Bill, and Fishface, and Lulu, and the smelly kid who never gave his
name, but was good at burping the alphabet. 

They circle their bicycles around. Mark Gibbs is happy. The presence of others
makes him feel so good. However, one by one, his friends disappear, scared off
by a kid, with red hair, about his height, and close to his age.
The stranger's hair is curly, just like his is.

Gibbs <protesting> : Why you doin this? Why are you scaring off my pals?

The reflection of a bright light reflects off Gibb's face, illuminating his
curly hair. He squints his eyes to see.

The Stranger [glowing] : You're not ready yet to be with others. You would
                         only scare them, like I do you. Let me protect you.
                         We have much more in common than you think. We both 
                         strive to escape, only to find ourselves caught in
                         the web of other people's desires.

The stranger disappears, leaving the young child standing in the middle of
the street, as dusk sets in, leaving the whole road engulfed in
darkness.

<fade out>

============================================================================
Scene : West Foothills Airforce Base, Colorado
============================================================================

The sun is making its last stand in the sky, just preparing to drop below the
horizon and give way to the night. Behind the gates of the Airforce base, red 
lights flash, security cameras sway back and forth, and guards stand at their 
posts.

<zooming back over to guards, who are face down, dressed in blue
uniforms>

Oops, Narrative Mistake. They are sleeping at their posts.

<zooming back over to guards, who seem to be smoldering>

Oops, yet another Narrative Mistake: They're going to be sleeping for along 
time.

A broken window. A security alarm buzzes loudly, seemingly on deaf ears.
Inside the window, an eerie green light shines out, as the tapping of
keystrokes can be heard...

A trespasser types his way through several layers of security, breaking 
through many passwords. The green light bounces off his glasses and clothing, 
the latter of which is long and loose-fitting. 

A key is pressed, as a listing of data appears on the screen:

CLASSIFIED
-*-
OPERATION : BI-OP RESOURCE SITE
===============================
Cromwell Industries            - Storage. Paid Participation
Denian Airforce Base           - Gene Type A / X - Celsius
Genetech Research Facility     - Supply Depot / Forced Entry Site
Cemetary of Francis Xavier     - Project DreamScape
Government Tunnel System #144  - Biopsy Collection Site
..
-*-

Another alarm sounds, as footsteps can be heard outside the door.

"Ah, perfect. My supplies have been a little tattered since my last place of
 residence got blown sky high. Maybe it's time I went on a little shopping
 trip."

The stranger runs towards the window, the fabric of his cape flowing behind
him. With a bound, he leaps out the window, into the moonlit sky, which has
just begun to drown into the compound.

Back at the airforce base, a series of armored forms pour into the room,
accompanied by a swarm of blue-uniformed soldiers. One of the soldiers fingers
a piece of a purple cloth in his hand, that he picked up from the ground below,
planted in the middle of the glass-strewn floor.

"That's right. I'm going on a little shopping trip. And thanks to you Scott, I
 can leave the X-Men with the bill. Regrettably, the price of immortality can
 make many a man bankrupt."

<fade out>

-*-

Epilogue
========

Washington, D.C.. Where, on the other side of the country, night has already
overtaken the landscape, the sun still hangs fairly high in the sky over this
city, only just beginning to drop down close towards the horizon..

Trevor Faulkman sits at his desk, on a Federal Office building. Sitting in
front of him is a half-finished deck of cards. Apparently, he has lost 
interest in that particular pointless waste of time, in order to go about 
practicing an even more pointless waste of time, involving using transparent
tape for unorthodox purposes.

There is a click of static over the intercom.. A female voice makes her
presence known.. A very hollow voice..

Voice : Mr. Faulkman.. You might be interested in this..

Trevor applies a piece of tape over his nose, making it stick out in a funny
way..

Trevor <nasally> : Not NOW, Edie.. Can't you see I'm busy??

Edie <through intercom> : But Mr. Faulkman..

Trevor <ripping tape off face> : Argghh.. Okay, you've disrupted my
                                 federally endorsed activities.. Now,
                                 what the $#@ is so important??

With a click, a television monitor flashes on, and some footage plays.

Edie <through intercom> : This was just sent to us from the West Foothills
                          Airforce base. I feel you'll find it interesting.

Trevor, with some tape still stuck to his face, stares at the screen, as a
big grin appears on his face. The form of Cyclops dominates the picture, 
firing away at government agents left and right. Trevor begins chuckling
happily.

Trevor <air-guitaring> : Yes!! Xavier, I knew you'd finally slip up. This is
                         the last bit of evidence we needed..

Trevor slams his hand against his desk, the house of cards he created flying
everywhere.

Trevor : And now the house you went through so much effort to build is coming
down.

<TO BE CONTINUED>

============================================================================
 End Story #2
============================================================================
