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MKSG The X-Men: Survival - Issue #5
Boston, Massachusetts - 3 Days Ago
“Sean! Grab your sh*t, we’re leaving! 1 minute!” Tom shouts as he storms through the door of the Cassidy house, leaving his car half-parked and still running on the driveway.
Sitting up quickly from the couch, “What do you mean?!” Sean Cassidy questions woefully.
“I mean that they’ve found us, and that means we have to leave, now!” Tom snaps at his younger brother as he rushes upstairs.
Understanding exactly what this means, Sean reacts quickly. His homework will have to wait. He’s going on the run. It was only a matter of time until someone found out that he and his brother were mutants, and the time seemed to have come. He raced upstairs, slid into his room and yanked the backpack from under his bed that he’d had packed for the last 12 months. He runs back downstairs and out the door.
“Where are we headed?” the 14 year old asks his older brother, quizzically.
X-Mansion Lawn - Today
“Help me!!” yells Sean, desperate and afraid. Once they’d got his brother Tom, he started towards the only place he could think of: Xavier’s School for Gifted Mutants. His mother’s friend, who he always called Aunt Moira, had told him if he was ever in any trouble, to come here, and the people here would help him.
“Help! Please!!” he yelps. Hot on his heel - a military-style truck following him up the lawn, filled with ‘Purifiers’. Mutant-hunters for hire. Ruthless and terrifying, with their thoughts poisoned by bigoted TV personalities such as William Stryker, spreading mutant-hatred and fear.
Sean realises there is no way that he can outrun the truck before he gets to the grand mansion itself. Putting on a brave face, he does the only thing he can do: try to stand his ground.
He stops running and tries to turn around and face his oppressors, but his knees are weak and give way. He still has one trick up his sleeve though…
The truck pulls up, about 20 feet away. He’s feeling faint and almost breathless, but he doesn’t hesitate to defend himself.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeEEE!”
He screams with his sonic abilities! The forceful blast flips the truck sideways several times and the Purifiers inside shout in dismay as they are tosses around violently. The truck lands back on it’s 6 wheels and several of the soldiers pile out, a couple throwing up.
Then, behind him, he hears an unfamiliar sound
BAMF!
He looks behind him in desperation to see 4 colourful figures, all with an X logo on their belt.
‘It’s the X-Men!’
The Purifier soldiers from the truck scramble and flee in all different directions from the X-Men. Storm flies up above the lawn and hovers on the winds she can control. Her eyes turn white and the skies quickly turn from blue to a dark, cloudy grey. With great might, she summons down a powerful lightning bolt. It strikes the overturned truck and then, KABBOOM! It explodes into a million pieces.
One of the doors from the truck hurtles towards him, flaming and fast. Sean covers his head with his hands as he feels the intense warmth from Cyclops’ optic beam over him, hearing the PZZZRKKTT! of it as it slices the door in half, so the pieces land either side of the team.
Sean reveals himself from under his arms to see Iceman covering the flaming wreck with snow and ice. Storm stands over him, and offers Sean a hand up. He goes to accept and pull himself up, but he’s so exhausted. Sean gently collapses onto the green grass of Xavier’s Mansion, home to the X-Men.
Description Astronauts Frank Borman, Neil Armstrong, John Young and Deke Slayton (left to right) are shown during desert survival training, at Stead AFB, Reno, NV
Credit: NASA
Image Number: S64-14507
Date: August 13, 1964
One day, when I walked around the Emerald budha temple, I found that the brush around the temple had been cut. Just only one survive!!
This was not "the survival of the fitnest" but "the survival of the most lucky one"!
First this phrase was introduced by Herbert Spencer and later used by Charles Darvin in his theory of evolution . By the fittest both meant animals most adaptable to the changing environment . Still later it was added that those survivals pass
their genes on to the next generations.
These days this theory is challenged by various others among which some rather absurd . For instanse , I came across even
"survival of the kindest". But the scientists have to work off their grants ))
I believe that the term the fittest is misintepreted and misleading . From prehistoric dark centures to our days survive the strongest , the merciless , the cruelest ! You have
just study history and analyze what we are witnessing today.
A great surprise in Norwich was to see this former Busways Volvo B10BLE/Alexander ALX300 still plodding on, with local independent Simonds - who have a decent fleet of various Volvo vehicles, mainly the B7RLE/MCV Evolutions. This B10BLE has since been re-registered to MSU916 and I'm not totally sure what it's original identity was. I assumed this was one of the batch that EnsignBus bought from Stagecoach last year (some of which I recall seeing in Wales), and a bit of deeper digging suggests it may have been R239KRG, 21139 in the Stagecoach fleet.
The 'mystery' Volvo is seen entering Castle Meadow in Norwich working route 2.
I've always felt sorry for folks who were perfectly happy as kids, teenagers, and young adults. There's an unseen downside in having no context for darkness – when your shadow finally sneaks up to grab you, you've got no natural immunity. I've seen the bottom fall out for a lot of men in my age group, hit hard in their twenties and thirties. They don't know how to deal with it, so end up unhinged or shut down all together. I've got sympathy for the former, but find the latter hard to relate. Giving up the fight is understandable, but hardly honourable. A lot of middle-aged guys think that their dullness is earned. Hard work is exhausting, and at the end of the day, they just want to shut off. But the outlet of making a mess of yourself is underrated. I don't mean anger, that's cheap. You've gotta be stronger to get weak. I cry at shows and movies, laugh at simple beauty, feel emotionally overwhelmed on a daily basis. I keep absolutely nothing to myself. It was a tough thing to learn. At first, all your bleeding is black and congealed, just a disgusting misery to be around. But eventually, the blood flows bright red and fully oxygenated – and the wounds you stopped trying to stifle will heal.
Some of my earliest memories are of feeling somehow off, wearing an unnamed emotional weight, or buzzing from unseen anxiety. That was in my head from the start. Growing up wasn't something I'd want to repeat. Most of my childhood was outwardly happy, but inside, I was a mess. I still sense that static in my background daily, waiting to rise. But that's not how I present face-to-face. Over the past fifteen years, I've become steadily attuned to the light of interaction, pleasures of human connection. Any chance to open up has treated me well. I thought the day would never come when I wasn't constantly complaining, broke down from dragging myself through life. I thought I'd have to wear the badge most men in my family had sewn to their skin by the time I was born – cold and distant like survival demanded it. It was a hell of a heartache, but I shook loose and left myself exposed. Took a hard look at everything, audited my emotions, didn't accept that apathy is earned. It's a curse compiled from a life of not caring. If thawing out doesn't seem worth it at the moment, that's all the evidence you should need that it is.
March 9, 2025
St. Croix Cove, Nova Scotia
Year 18, Day 6328 of my daily journal.
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Young spring cubs are on an exponential learning curve ... seems like not a minute goes by that they aren't trying to figure something out or perfect a skill that they've seen or learned.
Case in point - after observing their mom chasing down salmon, I would imagine that these two figured ... how hard could it be? They then found a mostly dead one on the shoreline, and decided that they would own it, both taking turns in their attempt to subdue it. LOL.
Watching them as they learn it's really like watching a young puppy learning to play or chew on something new. So willing to give it a shot and not caring if they're doing it quite right or not. :-) As Nike says ... they "just do it". In reality though, these skills will serve them well as they grew up and lead independent lives.
Thanks for stopping by to view and especially for sharing your thoughts and comments.
© 2015 Debbie Tubridy / TNWA Photography
To be completely honest, my first inclination this Christmas is to shut all the blinds, turn off the lights, pull the blankets over my head and call it good. But I know Lindsey would yell at me if I gave in and forsook our favorite time of year. I am finding comfort somewhat in getting out the familiar decorations, but at the same time it is bittersweet. The heartache that she is not here to share in the festivities is unspeakable. Somehow I get up every morning, throw back the blankets, turn on the lights and open the blinds. Lindsey would insist on it.
The Aethershrike was a high mobility, lightweight design for a medium-class starfighter. It had a huge thrust-to-weight ratio, relying on its speed and maneuverability for survival.
It was never a successful sales model, due to lack of military interest, but private owners loved its combination of rapid-fire weaponry and extreme thrust.
"...I've seen the nations rise and fall
I've heard their stories, heard them all
But love's the only engine of survival..."
'The Future' by L. Cohen
Lake Nakuru national park. Kenya
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The woodchat shrike (Lanius senator) is a striking bird species known for its bold black-and-white plumage and distinctive chestnut crown. Inhabiting open woodlands, orchards, and scrublands across southern Europe, northern Africa, and parts of the Middle East, this migratory bird spends its winters in sub-Saharan Africa. The woodchat shrike is an adept hunter, feeding on insects, small birds, and rodents, often impaling its prey on thorns or barbed wire to consume later. Despite its resilience, the species faces threats from habitat loss and changes in agricultural practices. Conservation efforts are crucial to ensure the survival of this remarkable and visually striking bird.
Crawling For Survival.
Desperate bloody παραλήρημα bizarre hallucinating brain,
kriechen on the transient ocean,
screaming for comprehensi express'd,
miserabile nak'd blind'd a helpless edge,
confus'd inner flame pulling against the απόσπαση of the interrogation,
restraints gagg'd mystérieux substance vomit'd repuls'd,
puzzl'd darkness the intrud'r sussurra a raucous judgment,
ignor'd disappear'd кровотечение prevalent woes,
inexplicable strafen dreadful sphere torments meet,
flashbacks overflows unprepar'd herinneringen blame,
unpleasant narušení rationality primitive grown,
fruitless νοσούσα indulgences beneath ungrateful lips,
muttering scorns donner knowledge again,
engaging attempts tremato forbidden move,
quickened foot uppfatta freedoms sight,
amazed wonder verführer beasts of mossy scent,
crawling no more thy δύναμη regain tenfold,
running away no more time to become the seeker of 復讐 !
Steve.D.Hammond.
Bitterly hard frost lies crusted over the leaves of a Rhododendron. The flower buds have already half formed...