EDITOR'S NOTE: This issue is apart of the “Untold Tales of X-Men Alpha” project contributing to X-Men Alpha post-hoc in order to flesh out the series and provide more content to the original adventure!
ALPHA Issue #4 Written by Cory Wiegel Featuring:
Cyclops
Jean Grey
Cannonball
Storm
Beast
Wolverine
"Indentured Terror!"
Undisclosed Location.
Deep within the safe house of the Mutant Liberation Front, Neal Shaara collapsed to his hands and knees on the concrete floor. He shook in agony as pain coursed through his body. For most of his youth, he lived a comfortable life on his affluent family's estate and tea farm in Kolkata, West Bengal, India. Then, while out for a night on the town with his brother, a man came for him and changed his life forever. Now, he's the mutant terrorist known as Thunderbird, begging for freedom.
“W-why are you doing this...?! I did everything you asked!” Thunderbird was in tears.
“Please,” a man standing over him replied. “You think we couldn't tell how you phoned in that last mission?” He pointed a remote at a nearby television and clicked a button.
Thunderbird struggled to look up as he heard familiar screams of terror and the chaotic stampede of hundreds of people. On the screen, he saw several members of the X-Men mobilizing on the floor of the United States Senate as lawmakers, journalists, and audience members scattered. The camera that filmed the scene dropped to the floor, but still caught a glimpse of Thunderbird's super heated plasma abilities powering up before the X-Men.
{{ “You can't know how sorry I am...” }} the camera's mic caught him saying. A powerful burst of plasma then destroyed the camera and the monitor went to static.
The man paused the monitor and looked down at his captor. Thunderbird knew he was caught. He made his presence known to the X-Men before he unleashed his powers on the U.S. Capitol Building. Not only were they able to protect themselves and other bystanders, but he gave them time to escape before the building itself was ravaged by his explosive powers.
“Well? Got anything to say for yourself?”
“I can't... I won't... kill anyone...” Thunderbird murmured. Another rush of pain coursed through his body. “AAGHH!!”
Thunderbird collapsed to the concrete floor fully and writhed in pain. After a moment, the pain began to fade rapidly, replaced with a feeling of weakness but relief.
“Let's get something straight,” the man said as he knelt beside Thunderbird and lifted up his head by his black hair. “We own you. From now until we have what we want.”
Thunderbird, eyes closed, reluctantly nodded his head. The man released Thunderbird's and took a black digital wristwatch out of his pocket. He set the time on it and then put it on Thunderbird's wrist. He then placed his hand on Thunderbird's shoulder. Thunderbird opened his eyes as a faint surge of energy began to course through his body and his strength began to slowly return.
“Stand,” the man said. The two rose together, but Thunderbird took several steps back, unsure what to make of his captor's gift. “You have three hours until your plasma powers overwhelm your body and are unleashed in a supernova... give or take.”
Thunderbird looked down to the watch attached to his wrist as it counted down from three hours. A chill ran through his body. He looked up in horror and his captor grinned at him.
“Your next target is programmed on that watch,” he said. “Fulfill your mission and we'll talk about living up to our original deal. Fail us again... and there won't be anything left of you to send home to your parents...”
Thunderbird swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded nervously.
“Now go! The clock's ticking.”
Thunderbird's body erupted with plasma and he shot into the air out of the safe house's skylight. His captor crossed his arm and continued to grin as he watched his patsy fly off into the night.
The modest but impassioned Neo-Humanist crowd, adorn with patriotic reds, whites, and blues, exploded with applause and cheers as James Brown's “Living in America” roared across the event speakers.
You may not be lookin' for the promised land, but you might find it anyway Under one of those old familiar names Like New Orleans (New Orleans), Detroit City (Detroit City) Dallas, uh (Dallas), Pittsburgh, PA, (Pittsburgh, PA) New York City (New York City), Kansas City (Kansas City) Atlanta, woo (Atlanta), Chicago and L.A.
Living in America, hit me; Living in America, yeah I walked in and out; Living in America Senator John Lancaster jogged onto the campaign stage, finding himself front and center before his crowd of supporters, as family members and campaign staff gradually joined him. The senator pointed at individual supporters in the crowd, shouting “I stand with you!” over the music. Many of them shouted his campaign slogan back at him, “I stand with humanity!” and cheered. He jogged to the front of the stage and reached out to give exchange high fives, handshakes, hearty grips and pats on the arms with the crowd, before returning to the center of the stage to dance awkwardly to the class funk-rock anthem.
While Senator Lancaster continued his grand standing, an Indian man with jet black hair and a goatee wearing a trench coat made his way through the crowd towards the front of the stage. Sweat dripped down his tight forehead as a burning sensation grew inside of the pit of his stomach. His head hung low, partially to maintain discretion and partially out of shame for what he was about to do. When he positioned himself front and center of the crowd, he groaned as he felt the burning sensation spread from his stomach to his chest. The watch on his wrist counted down from ten minutes.
It was now or never.
Thunderbird ripped off his trench coat and flaming hot plasma erupted from his pores. The men and women surrounding him gasped audibly and someone even screamed.
“MUTANT!”
Senator Lancaster broke from his speech and looked down from the stage at the commotion below. His eyes grew wide first in shock, but that expression quickly transformed into rage.
“It's him – from the Senate floor!” the senator yelled as more screams erupted from the stage and pandemonium unfolded. Secret Service members descended upon him and quickly prepared to usher him off stage. “Somebody stop him! Get down there and stop him!”
Thunderbird clenched his fists and threw his head back as he let out a cry. His body, overwhelmed with the rapidly building energy inside of him, began erupting with plasma like some sort of chemical reaction preparing to explode.
Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind descended upon the crowd and sent everyone sprawling in different directions, far away from Thunderbird's position. The winds that followed were freezing cold, causing Thunderbird to gasp and recoil. The plasma pouring from his body simultaneously cooled and flared-up across his body against the immense chill he was bombarded with.
“W-wha...?” Thunderbird grumbled as he looked up to the sky.
“Great job, Storm!” Sam Guthrie – the X-Men's temporary field leader code named Cannonball – yelled as he rocketed down from the Blackbird with Hank McCoy – Beast – on his back. Ororo Munroe – Storm – and Jean Grey-Summers – Phoenix – flew down behind them with the use of their respective powers. “Beast an' me are on crowd control. Storm, you an' Phoenix shut him down!”
While Thunderbird stood stunned from Storm's attack, a combination of Neo-Humanist security and rally members charged at him. They smashed at him with batons, fists, and picket signs as his plasma abilities faltered. Beast leaped off of Cannonball's back and dove head first into the middle of the crowd, springing off of his hands and pin missile kicking into a security guard. The guard flew into two of Thunderbird's attackers as Beast then tackled another security guard to the ground.
Cannonball blasted around Thunderbird in a circle, his blast field propelling the remaining bystanders and rally security guards away from the deadly mutant terrorist about to explode. Beast continued to push, throw, or scoop up any of the remaining stranglers as Storm and Phoenix descended on Thunderbird. As his plasma abilities flared back up, Storm struck him with a lightning bolt, causing him to scream out in agony and collapse to his knees.
“Stand down!” Storm commanded as she prepared another a lightning strike.
“Please! Help me!” Thunderbird screamed to the women as plasma began exploding from his body. “I can't hold it in much longer!”
Storm and Phoenix exchanged a concerned glance before the team's telepath put a hand to her temple and scanned Thunderbird's mind. She felt a mix of excruciating pain and guilt overwhelming the young man, as well as saw flashes of a familiar face haunting him.
“My God...” Phoenix muttered. “Fabian Cortez!”
“What is it?” Storm asked, taken aback.
“Cortez is causing his powers to go out of control and forcing him to work for the Mutant Liberation Front,” Phoenix rushed an explanation. She erected a telekinetic bubble around herself and Thunderbird, then flew them into the air quickly. “We have to help him before it's too late!”
Flying high into the air, Phoenix simultaneously reinforced the bubble around herself and Thunderbird, as well as the barrier between them. A massive plasma burst engulfed the telekinetic bubble and lit up the sky. Gasps and screams clamored from bystanders. It took but moments for the fiery energy to fade, though. When Phoenix descended back to the rally site, Thunderbird lay limp in her telekinetic hold. Cannonball, Storm, and Beast rushed to her side.
“Is he –?” Cannonball began.
“Alive. He's unconscious, but his power levels are stable.”
Cannonball let out a sigh of relief and nodded.
“Mission accomplished then, team,” he said before he took a look around. The crowd was growing ever chaotic as they fleed, long after Senator Lancaster and his campaign staff evacuated the area, but security and emergency responders were beginning to flood the area. “We ought ta vamoose before the party really gets started 'round here.”
“Agreed, o' fearless leader,” Beast replied and readied himself with Storm and Phoenix, Thunderbird in tow. Cannonball smirked weakly at the comment. He could get used to a title like that...
Several levels below the X-Mansion, Logan – code named Wolverine – wheeled himself through a pair of sliding doors into the the X-Men's medical bay with a six-pack of beer in his lap. Still recovering from a recent battle with the mutant known only as Payne, Wolverine was forced to use one of his former mentor's wheel chairs to get around. He could stand and move about for limited amounts of time, but was far from combat ready and was beginning to go stir crazy, especially when his teammates were out on a mission. That's why he found himself visiting his injured teammate.
Scott Summers – also called Cyclops – had recently led the X-Men into a battle with Payne to intervene on his surprise assault on Wolverine. Payne took Cyclops down with a similar attack to the one he executed on Wolverine, but with much more devastating results. The pain caused extensive trauma to Cyclops's brain and he was put into a medically induced coma while he recovered to prevent further damage. While Wolverine's body would merely take days to recover due to his powerful healing factor, Cyclops's body would take weeks, possibly months, and even then may never be the same. Only time would tell.
Wolverine wheeled up to Cyclops's bed and locked his breaks. He leaned forward in the wheelchair and simply stared at his teammate's comatose body. He was plugged into various machines that monitored his state and kept him alive while his body recovered.
“Aren't we a sorry lookin' pair, eh Slim?”
Only the beeps and hums of the machines responded.
Wolverine sighed quietly. He leaned back in the wheelchair and pulled a beer loose from the six-pack in his lap. He popped it open and then set it on the night stand next to Cyclops's bed. He then pulled another beer loose, popped it open, and clinked it against the beer on the night stand.
“Cheers, Slim,” Wolverine said as he raised the beer to Cyclops. “To a quick recovery.”
He took a long swig of the beer, nearly finishing it, and then wiped away some from his mouth. He looked back to Cyclops, whose body lifted slowly and rhythmically with the aid of the breathing machines he was attached to, and with the silence they shared he briefly pondered the current state of the X-Men and Charles Xavier's dream of mutant-human coexistence.
Then another thought altogether entered his mind.
“Wonder how Hank would feel if I smoked in here...” Wolverine grumbled as he searched his shirt pockets for a cigar and lighter.
Fast approaching the airspace above West Bengal, India, the X-Men's Blackbird jet flew in stealth mode towards the team's last destination before returning home.
“ETA is about five minutes,” Storm announced to her teammates from the pilot's seat. Beast sat next to her as her copilot, but seemed to be focusing on another task on a tablet computer.
Behind them in the passenger's bay, strapped into seats facing across from each other, sat Cannonball and Phoenix on one side and Thunderbird on the other.
“That's you,” Phoenix said to Thunderbird with a slight smile. “Ready to finally go home?”
Thunderbird nodded his head solemnly.
“Thank you for all that you've done for me,” he said to the X-Men. Shame began creeping into his quiet voice. “I thought more than once that those monsters were going to kill me, or worse, succeed in making me kill others.”
Phoenix leaned toward Thunderbird and touched his hand.
“It wasn't your fault, Neal. Fabian Cortez is a powerful mutant and a madman. You couldn't have stopped him alone, let alone with the Mutant Liberation Front behind him.”
Thunderbird nodded quietly, touching Phoenix's hand and holding it.
“I know. I just wish I could do something... anything... to make up for what he made me do...”
Phoenix was at a loss for words. She had been in a similar place before and knew what a long road ahead it was. Before she could start to empathize with him, Cannonball spoke up.
“Y'know, ah was thinkin' on the way over here,” he said. “You don't have t' go home just yet.”
“What do you mean?” Thunderbird asked.
“Join the X-Men. We're always recruitin' and --” Cannonball stopped himself. He noticed a sudden wave of emotion come over Thunderbird as he covered his mouth.
“Do you really think that I could be one of you?”
The X-Man nodded.
“Not only do ah think that, but ah think you could be a mighty fine member, too.” Cannonball smiled at Thunderbird, whose expression seemed to warm at the thought.
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Storm interrupted the conversation from the pilot's seat.
“We've arrived at our destination. Preparing cargo hatch for Thunderbird's departure...”
Thunderbird looked up to Cannonball and Phoenix, who were awaiting his response.
“So whaddya say?” Cannonball asked.
“Thank you, but I have much to atone for first. I think I have to turn myself in or else I will always be running from what I've done,” Thunderbird said. “My father has many connections with law enforcement. He should be able to help me.”
As the Blackbird's cargo hatch opened, Thunderbird unbuckled himself from his seat and extended a hand out to Cannonball. The two shook hands before Thunderbird walked over to the cargo hatch and looked back to the X-Men with a gracious smile.
“Thank you again. Goodbye, X-Men.”
With that, Thunderbird leaped out of the Blackbird's cargo hatch and ignited with super heated plasma, allowing him to fly down towards his family estate and finally return home for the first time in what felt like ages. As the cargo hatch closed and the Blackbird returned to the X-Mansion, Cannonball said a silent prayer that Thunderbird would be able to find the atonement he was looking for in time.
NEXT ISSUE:Cannonball continues to settle into his role as temporary field leader of the X-Men, but was his first mission's success merely a fluke? Fabian Cortez and the Mutant Liberation Front sure seem to think so! Find out in, “How Fear Becomes Law!”