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Brawl!
Alison Blaire returns to her ever-so-humble apartment one evening. It may be dark and dirty, but she still missed this place. She remembers how happy and hopeful she was when she last left her apartment—back before the movie, before Roman Nekoboh entered her life and, basically, before the entire world came crashing down around her. Now, just saying Roman’s name puts a knot in her stomach.
Hoping to call someone who might understand, Dazzler picks up the phone and dials a number few people know. It rings through to Xavier’s mansion in Westchester, New York, which serves as the headquarters of the X-Men. No one answers. Frustrated, Alison sets down the receiver. Where is Ororo when she needs her? She supposes she is out saving the world—or maybe herself—from all the trouble Alison has made for every single mutant in the world.
She decides to record a letter to Storm in order to get some things off her chest. After picking up a microphone and sitting down in her lounge chair, Dazzler begins recounting her interpretation of recent events. However, if Ororo has even seen a newspaper lately, she knows the turns Alison’s life has taken: Roman Nekoboh offered her a part in a movie, they flirted and became close, he learned that she was a mutant and then announced it to the world to generate publicity. Once he revealed the secret, Alison had no choice but to run with it. She gave a public demonstration of her light-transduction power, but instead of generating good publicity, the stunt backfired and touched off the biggest wave of anti-mutant sentiment in history. Surely Ororo noticed.
Alison admits she kept hoping the situation would work out for the best, but her love for Roman blinded her. Roman convinced her that if the movie were a blockbuster, it would reverse the anti-mutant hysteria and force society to accept mutants—and maybe even allow them to co-exist in peace with regular humans. Instead, the film’s backer pulled out just before the film’s release, refusing to distribute it. To spite him, Alison burned the last remaining print of the film. Now, she has nothing: no film, no career and no relationship with Roman—whose career is also in shambles because of his association with a mutant. She’s pretty broken up about it, Alison admits into the recording. She doesn’t know what she will do, other than keep living her life, as usual. She intends to do the best she can.
Suddenly, Alison sees a pair of legs standing in the shadows. “Hey! What’s that? Who’s there?” she asks. She releases a pulse of bright light, illuminating the dark hallway and revealing two figures—her landlords, Mr. and Mrs. McCorkle, both wielding baseball bats. Mr. McCorkle throws up his arms and begs her not to zap them. Alison, however, smiles and greets them. As she flips on the lights, she apologizes for her tardiness with her payment but assures Mr. McCorkle that the bat is not necessary; she’ll pay her rent.
Mr. McCorkle, still cowering in fear, tells Alison to disintegrate him if she must, but begs her to spare his wife’s life! Alison has no intention of disintegrating either one of them. She once again promises to pay the rent. Mr. McCorkle doesn’t want it. They didn’t come to collect her check; they just want her to go away. Alison asks if it’s because she’s a mutant. It’s because she’s dangerous, Mrs. McCorkle claims; they don’t want any trouble in their building.
Dazzler, surprisingly compliant, tells them she’ll leave. Good, Mr. McCorkle says. He immediately realizes how rude he sounds. After apologizing, he tries to justify his decision. His wife interjects; they heard Alison recording her letter to Ororo and now they feel really terrible about the decision they made. Alison tells them it is all right—no hard feelings. Again, Mr. McCorkle tries to explain himself. Alison has been a good tenant, he says. It’s not anything she’s done, just what she is. “I wonder,” Mrs. McCorkle adds, “—seems to me that what a body does decides what they are, Pa! I-I mean, what you start out as and what you amount to can be two different things! She may be one of those awful mutants, but… well, I once knew a man who was a Democrat, who later reformed!”
On account of Mrs. McCorkle’s change of heart, Mr. McCorkle decides to let Alison stay—but only if she pays her rent by Friday. It’s already two weeks overdue, after all. Alison thanks them as they leave.
The next morning—Wednesday of that week—Alison pores over the classified ads in the newspaper. She is short $67.50 on rent. How can she earn that much in just two days? After all the negative publicity she’s garnered, she doubts anyone will hire her for a singing gig. Hopefully, if she can find any kind of job, her boss might give her an advance. Better yet, she could get a job as a waitress and earn that much in tips.
After getting dressed, Alison heads for the door, intent on finding work. Right before she leaves, however, she decides to bring her clip-on roller-skates. They might save her on bus fare—and every nickel counts! “You’re going to be okay, Alison Blaire,” Dazzler says as she marches down her apartment stairs. She clips on her skates as soon as she reaches the street. They may not go fast, but they go pretty far—and plus, they’re cheap! Best of all, they fit comfortably insider he purse.
Shortly, in what passes for downtown L.A., a long, long day begins for Alison Blaire. She gets rejected from every job for which she applies, each time because she’s a mutant. After her eighth rejection in a row, Alison wanders into a bar and inquires about the advertised job. The bartender tells her to sit down and fill out an application—and then he recognizes her. While screaming that she’s a mutie, he grabs a crowbar off the wall and charges at her. Alison tells him not to get upset; she’s leaving. Darn right she is, the irate bartender says. If he had his way, all muties would be shot on sight! He heard on the television that mutants even call themselves Homo superior. They must think they’re the next step up in evolution from normal humans! Alison tries to convince him otherwise, but he continues yelling at her. He heard that mutants think humans are stupid apes and that they’ll try to overtake the world! Alison calls this ridiculous paranoia. The bartender, still brandishing his crowbar, tells Alison to start running, because in one second he intends to split open her head.
Alison finally snaps. “Now just a minute, mister! That’s enough out of you! ” she says. Amidst a burst of white light, she grabs onto his crowbar and incinerates it in her hand. The man cowers in fear. Alison calls him a miserable, rotten worm. Since he insists on treating her like a monster, she supposes she might as well be one! “So you’re afraid of me now, huh? Well, you’ve got good reason, mister! This evil, nasty Homo superior is going to fry your slimy Homo sapien hide!” She lifts her glowing hand once more and tells them man he’s about to get it. The cowering man whimpers, begging for his life. Alison turns to leave. As she exits the bar, she tells the bigoted bartender that he’s lucky; she decided he’s not worth the effort—this time.
Hours later, after night falls on Los Angeles, Alison walks by a club called “FEMMES” and spots yet another sign asking for help. She scoffs at the sign, presuming it, too, includes a “no mutants need apply” clause. Why even bother trying? She might as well just go home and cry herself to sleep. However, Alison catches herself during this bout of self-pity. Refuses to let five or six dozen rejections turn her into a pessimist, she resolves to take one last stab at the job search—and then go home and cry!
Inside, she speaks with a short-haired, red-headed woman wearing a cloak about applying for the job. Before she can finish her sentence, however, Alison notices something odd about the club: it contains only women! The woman at the door asks Alison what she expected from a place called “FEMMES”; it’s a women-only club. There are hundreds of men-only clubs, so why shouldn’t women have a least one place exclusively for them? Alison doesn’t argue with the reasoning behind the venue; she just admits she’s never seen such a place. That’s why they’re so successful, the red-headed hostess says. She escorts Alison to the manager’s office.
Alison enters the manager’s office and begins to introduce herself. The manager interrupts her and immediately tells her she is hired! The uniforms are in the dressing room closet, she tells Alison. Realizing she doesn’t even know what job she just got, Alison asks what kind of work it is. Waitress, the manager says. She encourages Ali to hurry—as she is already late!
In the hallway outside the manager’s office, Alison bumps into a woman of diminutive stature who senses she’s searching for the dressing room. The short woman leads her into darkened changing room, which is filled with women in underwear putting on their makeup. The two women begin to converse. Introducing herself as Alison “Brown”, Ali tells the girl she was just hired. The petite woman introduces herself as Barb Spooner, known affectionately as “Spoonsize”. She admits, though, that she answers to just about anything that roughly equates to “Shorty”. After their brief introductions, Barb tells Alison she looks familiar. She swears she has seen her face before! Alison, tripping over her words, tells Barb she doesn’t think they have ever met. Of course not, Barb says, adding that everyone looks the same from her height.
Soon, Alison changes into her serving outfit: cuffed boots, fishnet stockings, and a low-cut, red leather dress with a zipper running up its middle. She asks Barb what she thinks. Barb tells her she looks dynamite, but adds that everything looks better on tall girls. She guesses Ali’s height: five-eleven? Five-eight, Alison tells her, but who’s counting? “Us four-foot-thirteeners, that’s who!” Barb says. This confuses Alison, forcing Barb to clarify that she’s actually five-one. Now that they’re dressed in their serving outfits, Barb leads Alison to her station.
It doesn’t take Alison long to get into the groove of waiting tables. She serves a table of weight-conscious supermodels, a table of power-lunching businesswomen, another table of down-to-earth country girls, and finally, a table of chatty Valley girls. Shortly thereafter, the band—which is rumored to be hotter than a welding torch—takes the stage. Ali watches in envy as Jan Jackson and the Steel Tuna performs in front of the admiring crowd. They’re terrific, Alison thinks. That Janet Jackson is absolutely sensational! I’d give anything to be up there singing instead of down here! She hopes someday, again, she’ll get to sing.
Suddenly, a group of rambunctious women bursts into the nightclub, making sure everyone notices their entrance. “Y’all make way for the Racine Ramjets, ladies!” the obnoxious women say. The Ramjets order the other women to get out of their way; they defeated the L.A. Bombers earlier that night, and now, they want to party! The venue’s other patrons should consider themselves warned. Alison, meanwhile, watches the arrival of the roller derby team in disbelief.
The Ramjets saunter over to a crowded table, slam their golden-cup trophy down in the center and claim the table for themselves. The shocked women at the table claim it’s theirs. The Ramjets see it differently. They knock over the drinks and forcibly eject the frightened women from their seats. Meanwhile, one of the Ramjets approaches Dazzler—whom she calls “Sweetie”—and orders a round of beverages. The various members of the Racine Ramjets order six Lone Stars, a case of Coors, a double Kamikaze, a Dinkelacker and, most unusual of all, a large milk. The Ramjet who orders the milk tells Alison that if she as much as smiles, she’ll crack her clavicle! Beefee, the final Ramjet to order, asks for a bottle of J and B. By the way, she adds, if Alison treats them well, she promises to give her a big tip. Alison thanks her and walks away to grab their drinks. As she goes, however, she silently curses the loud, obnoxious women for interrupting the band’s performance.
“Hey, babe, I changed my mind! I want Cuervo Gold, straight up—make it a double!” one of the Ramjets says as Alison tries to watch the band. Alison asks if she wants that instead of the Lone Stars. “No, the Coors, dippo!” the woman barks. Alison apologizes. Her mind returns to the mesmerizing voice of the singer on the stage. Beefee, meanwhile, decides to change her order too. She first wants a Stoli, then changes that to a Cutty Sark served neat. Noticing Alison’s inattentiveness, she asks if she’s even listening. Although Alison claims to be, her mind clearly focuses on the band’s performance.
A minute later, Alison returns to the Ramjet table with their drinks. The situation almost overwhelms her. Not only does she ache to jump up on the stage and sign, but all the sound in the room—especially the music—is sending waves of energy surging through her body! It’s all she can do to contain it. She’s dying to cut loose, however, and illuminate the room. Of course, she realizes that would bring her newfound employment to a screeching halt.
She hands the ungrateful Racine Ramjets their drinks. Beefee takes a sip of her glass of liquor, but immediately spits it out. She’s been poisoned, she declares! Grabbing Alison by the collar, she tells her that unless she’s mistaken, she ordered Cutty Sark, not Vat 69! Alison apologizes profusely, but it does nothing to assuage Beefee’s anger. She dumps the glass of liquor on Alison’s head and laughs. Next time, maybe she will get it right!
Fortunately for Alison, Barb rushes to her aid and offers to switch tables. She will handle the Ramjets if Alison can take table twenty-six. Although Alison tries to assure her she can handle it, Barb insists; she’s used to this treatment. As Alison walks away, Barb tries her best to placate the unruly roller derby players. What is it Beefee ordered? A Cutty Sark? “Yeah, neat!” Beefee says to Barb. “And try not to fall into the glass, half-pint!” Taking the jab in stride, Barb cracks a joke about her presence in the drink turning it into a shrimp cocktail. Beefee guffaws and tells Barb she’s a riot.
As Barb leaves to grab the corrected drinks, the Ramjet named Hilda trips her. Spoonsize tumbles to the floor, spilling beverages everywhere. The Ramjets laugh heartily; at least the poor little girl didn’t have far to fall! Trying her best to play along, Barb claims it was a short trip, at least. Hilda—unsatisfied with her cruelty—picks up a napkin off the table and twists it into a whip. As she snaps it across Barb’s butt, she tells her not to lie down on the job. The mortified waitress cries out in pain. She gets up and gathers the broken glasses while another of the Ramjets, Tex, yells at her. She had better hurry with some more drinks before the Ramjets get irritable, she says! Spoonsize continues apologizing, blaming her slow speed on her short legs.
She returns a short time later with their new round of drinks. “Now this is what I call service!” says the Ramjet in the floral dress. “This cute little one is a lot better than that blonde babyface! I should take you home, dear—in my purse!” She asks Barb for her name. Spoonsize, she tells them as she struggles to hold back her tears. The Ramjets bust up laughing. Meanwhile, Alison’s heart breaks as she watches her new friend endure such inhumane treatment.
The Ramjets suddenly grow irritated with the band onstage and start heckling. Hilda tells the singer she will pay her double whatever she’s getting to shut up! Beefee angrily requests some Shondells, or maybe some Bobby Goldsboro. Gazelle, the butch Ramjet with a broken left arm, merely flashes her tongue at the performers. Tex demands the band play some country western—and asks why the Ramjets even came to this lousy watering hole. It’s a dive! Gazelle reminds her they came because they want to bust up the joint—and why bust up a good joint?
The heckling continues. The Ramjet wearing shades shouts out another order at Barb, and adds that they have a request for the band: they request the lead singer gargle with battery acid! After she asks if Barb heard her, Barb assures her she did, and adds that the band is almost done with its set. While making a broad thumbs-down gesture, Hilda informs the band they stink, and that their waitress is bringing them a request.
Hilda flicks a quarter at Barb and tells her to pull the plug on the band. Once again, Barb drops her tray of drinks, and once again the Ramjets mock her. She just can’t hold that big tray of drinks, can she? They order her to bring them another round right away.
Onstage, the lead singer of the band, Janet, grows visibly annoyed with the ruckus.
Alison clenches her teeth in frustration too. She doesn’t know how much more cruelty she can watch Barb endure. If the manager refuses to have the Ramjets thrown out of the club, then Alison intends to make Barb leave with her.
Beefee decides to use Barb to demonstrate a hold she performed on a rival skater earlier that night. She grabs the screaming waitress from behind by the arms and sets her on the table. Her victim from earlier in the night looked just as scared as Barb does now—because she knew what was coming! Terrified, Barb asks what she intends to do. It’s the lovely old ‘Ramjet Whammy’, one of the women tells Barb. It’s just for demonstration purposes, though. Barb won’t get hurt—unless Beefee slips!
As Beefee approaches to execute the move, a voice calls out from the crowd and orders her to stop. The Ramjets turn and see their former waitress, Alison Blaire, looking at them with defiance in her eyes. Alison orders them to leave Barb alone.
“Aww… is she your widdle buddy?” Beefee says. “Gee, I’m sowwy! I don’t want to get you mad at delicate me,” she says in a mocking tone, “—so here—you can have her!” She lifts Barb clean over her head and prepares to throw her at Alison. Although she begs for her to put her down, Beefee hurls her headlong at Alison. The two waitresses collide and collapse in a heap on the floor. “You asked for her! Haw, haw, haw!”
After Barb and Alison check on each other, Alison suggests they take their break. She takes Spoonsize by the shoulders and turns away from the table of Racine Ramjets. Beefee refuses to let them go so easily. Alison talked awfully tough before, Beefee says. She challenges her to come back and get her teeth knocked out. Trying her best to ignore her cruel taunts, Alison encourages Barb to just keep walking. Beefee continues to mock her. Doesn’t she want to at least take a swig at her? Through all the argument, Barb grows quite scared.
Beefee finally realizes Alison has no intention of taking the bait. Presuming she needs to be overt if she wants to get in a fight, Beefee takes the situation into her own hands and lunges at Dazzler from behind, grabbing her by the hair. Tex cheers for her teammate. She reckoned it was time the Ramjets got some action going!
Much to Beefee’s surprise, Dazzler uses her momentum against her and flips her onto her back. How does she do that? She’s bigger than Alison, Beefee shouts! Alison agrees, but adds that she’s stronger than Beefee because she works out so much. Besides, all of the Cutty Sark Beefee drank has hampered her reflexes. Any athlete would know that! After Dazzler pins Beefee to the floor, she grabs her arm and bends it past the point of mere discomfort and near the point of breaking. Beefee squeals in pain. Although Dazzler tries to make peace by encourage Beefee to call off the attack, the disgraced Ramjet summons her teammates to help. They immediately spring into action. Gazelle orders the other skaters to pile on top of Alison. No one gets in the way of the Ramjets, she says!
On stage, Janet grows tired of watching the fight unfold. She tells her band to cool it; she doubts anyone is even listening to them anymore. Deciding to take a little break, Janet leaps into the dog-pile, intent on breaking some roller derby girls’ faces!
Meanwhile, one of the club’s patrons calls the police on the payphone. On the other end of the line, two male police officers write the call off as a prank. A fight at a girl’s club? Sure, they say! They claim they will send over a hundred-man S.W.A.T. team—the minute it starts snowing in Death Valley!
Back at the fight, the combined weight of the Racine Ramjets nearly crushes Alison. She suddenly realizes if she sustains a serious injury, she will not be able to afford a doctor! Worse, she won’t be able to work. An injury could put an end to all she has left. Instinctively, she prepares to use her mutant powers to dazzle-blast her way out of the situation—but immediately decides against it. She refuses to resort to that, especially when she believes she can win this fight fair and square!
Thrusting her legs upward, Dazzler kicks loose of the dog-pile—much to the shock and awe of the Ramjets. How does she do it? She takes Tex out of the fight with a well-placed uppercut. However, Gazelle grabs her from behind and pins her arms behind her back. Knock her out, Beefee, she commands her teammate. As Beefee winds up for the punch, she tells Alison she’ll first give her two black eyes, then bust up her cute little nose, and finally knock out her teeth. “You really are horrible people,” Alison shouts. Beefee tells her to hold that thought. “No, you hold it!” Alison says. She thrusts her torso downward, flipping Gazelle over her back and headlong into Beefee’s face. The two dynamo women collide with a sickening WHAK!
The fight ends. Dazzler, the last one standing, looks around the room at the pile of unconscious women. The Ramjets may not know it, but they got off easy! After surveying the damage, Alison checks on Barb, who claims to be okay. With that out of the way, Alison approaches the barely conscious Beefee and asks if she can have the big tip she was promised. Beefee, speaking through strained breaths, tells Alison to check her back pocket and help herself; she only asks she not hit her with that Buick again. Alison only needs $67.50. She takes what she needs and thanks the roller derby girl.
Alison walks to the exit with Barb, who apologizes for starting the fight. She wonders if the fight would have occurred if she hadn’t been such a toadying little idiot when the Ramjets teased her. However, she assumed she could clown her way through it and play into the teasing like she usually does, but that just encouraged them to keep pushing it! Dazzler encourages her not to worry about it too much; they would have probably teased her anyway. She does, however, tell Barb that a lot of people will only see her for what makes her different, and not for all the good things about her or the things that make her a human being just like them. If she lets them, those people will make her into what they think she is. They’ll force her to become a toy, a clown, a monster—or worse.
She and Barb embrace. Spoonsize realizes Alison is completely right: she has been selling herself short. It’s a good lesson to learn. Alison agrees, adding that she herself just learned it that same day.
With everything settled, Barb asks Alison if she plans on returning to the club. Ali tells her she can’t; she doesn’t know if she can handle this much excitement! Maybe she’ll become a hockey player instead. Before she leaves, Barb tells her she’s glad they met, and tells Alison she is a terrific person. Alison returns the compliment. After advising Barb to take care of herself, Alison walks out of “FEMMES”, fully intent on never returning.


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Provide a full summary of the comic book.

[Assistant]
The Human Touch!
A performer looks at her face in the mirror while prepping for a show. She has the face of a rising star. Her songs will make the audience at Reilly’s Ace of Clubs forget themselves. Perhaps she’ll even make them forget there are celebrities in their midst who frequent this elite nightspot. All eyes will be on only one face—but will it be her face?
Suddenly, she sees the reflection of a tattered, masked face behind her in the mirror. She gasps in shock; he doesn’t belong in here, she says! The figure, who covers his mouth with a bandana and conceals his greasy brown hair with a dirty fedora hat, silences her. As he reaches for the starlet’s vase, igniting the flowers it contains upon contact, he poses a question to the singer: since she seeks to make her mark on the city, has she considered the mark it might make on her? Imagine the touch of its corruption on her face and flesh, the intruder says. Imagine the touch of its corruption on her soul! He implores her to save herself, and leave not only the club, but the entire city. He orders her never to return. “The decision is yours,” he says, “but vengeance is Tatterdemalion’s!”
Outside, the evening passes without song. There are no new stars over Hollywood. But this, however, is Hollywood, and here, the faces change, and the dream goes on. Inside Reilly’s Ace of Clubs, a replacement singer approaches the booking manager. When he asks her name, she hesitantly gives it as Dolores Rudolph. The booker, Rick Conti, candidly tells her to drop the Rudolph routine; he knows who she is. She’s the Dazzler, he says. He’s seen her picture all over the newspapers—she’s one of them mutants! Dazzler confirms this, but adds that she is a singer as well—but, as usual, assumes that doesn’t matter. She prepares to leave.
As she goes, however, Rick reminds her that no one told her to leave. He’s never met a mutant before, he says while nudging her chin; if they’re all as pretty as her, he can’t wait to meet more! “Okay,” she says. “My name’s Alison Blaire… not baby!” Undeterred, Rick tells her that he bets a lot of people would pay top dollar to see a real live mutant. Annoyed, Alison reminds him that she is a singer. If he wants a sideshow, he can call Barnum and Bailey. She thanks him for his team and heads for the exit. Again, Rick stops her, this time by putting his hand on her shoulder. If she wants to work with the normals, he says, she needs to learn to take a little kidding.
Dazzler asks if he’s interested in her singing at all. Rick tells her plainly that their last singer abruptly boarded a train to Tulsa the day prior, without explanation. It’s the second time that month it’s happened, he says. The tried-and-true talent is booked up, which means it’s her shot, if she wants it. She can even call herself Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer if she wants, so long as she dazzlers him—because this is just the break she needs!
After their meeting, Rick introduces her to his pianist, Julia, and says he’s testing her singing skills. When he gives Alison the option of picking a song to sing, she asks Julia to play “Let’s Dance”. Irked, Julia informs her that they run a nightclub, not a disco; they prefer mood in their music. After telling Julia to give her a break, Rick asks Alison if she knows any forties numbers. She asks if “I’ll Be Seeing You” is okay. “A torch song,” Rick replies. “Great, break my heart.” He should live so long, Alison thinks to herself before beginning.
Once she gets the cue from Julia, she busts out the tune. She only makes it through the first two stanzas before Rick jumps up and shouts for her to stop. That bad, she asks? Surprised, Rick asks if she’s kidding; she’s great! His troubles are over! Her troubles are over! She’s going to be a star—and he’s going to be the one who discovered her! Him and half a million others, Alison sighs as she endures Rick Conti’s hug.
“What a swell party this is!” Julia says sarcastically. She gets up from her seat and leaves. She’ll see them at showtime, she says—if there is a showtime for a change. After Julia’s departure, Alison asks if she said something to offend her; she was so hostile. She also has the feeling she’s seen Julia before somewhere. Rick tells her to forget Julia; she’s washed up in the biz. He only lets her work there because he’s a nice guy, he says. Changing subjects, he hands Alison a stack of cash and tells her to do something nice for herself, like buy a new, slinky gown for the show. Dumbfounded, Alison refuses the money; she can’t take it until she’s earned it, she says. It’s her policy. She can at least let him give her a ride home, Mr. Conti adds. After telling him a friend is picking her up, Dazzler thanks him and leaves. She ignores his protests as she leaves, which include him begging to let him prove he’s a nice guy. He even implores her to call him Rick.
Some guys never give up, Alison sighs as she exits. On the way out of the theater, an old movie poster featuring a performer named Julia Walker catches her eye. After observing that the poster looks like it has been there for years, Alison does a double-take at the woman on the advertisement. It’s Julia, the pianist, and she remembers now where she’s seen her—the movies! So that’s what happened to her, she thinks as her ride arrives.
She gets in the blue convertible with her friend Janet. When Janet asks how it went, Dazzler enthusiastically reports that she got the job! She starts that night with a flurry of faves from the forties and fifties! “Oh. Classical music,” Janet observes.
Alison asks Janet if she happens to remember Julia Walker. Janet doesn’t at first, but then recalls her and Michael Wyatt making quite the dance duo in a dozen or so movies. Her mom found them superior to Rogers and Astaire, she muses. She doesn’t suppose Julia dances in the club? No, Alison says, explaining that she’s actually the accompanist. No kidding, Janet comments; she’ll have to tell her mother. It’s funny how some people turn out; she was a big star once! “Yeah…funny,” Dazzler replies. Janet tells her not to sweat it; that won’t happen to her. Her troubles are almost over anyway! That’s exactly what Mr. Conti said, Dazzler replies. She can’t help but wonder if it’s true.
As she says this, their car passes over a manhole in the street. They stop at a red light. Immediately behind them, the manhole cover opens, and a man—Tatterdemalion—emerges from the sewer, with a determined look on his sinister face. Before the car passes, he reaches out and touches both rears tires with his fingers, causing the rubber to hiss and melt.
Inside, the girls continue their conversation. Janet calls Alison a worry-wart; she got the job and that’s what’s important! She moans about the length of the red light before it finally turns green. Good thing, she quips; if the light had been any longer, the city may have charged them for parking. They depart once again. Behind them, Tatterdemalion follows on foot.
Changing subjects, Janet now asks her passenger if Mr. Conti is cute. Ali barely has time to groan in disgust before the two rear tires blow out and send the convertible careening onto the sidewalk and into some bushes. The vehicle comes to a stop. Dazzler immediately turns to Janet, who is holding her head, and asks if she’s all right. Just a little shaken up, Janet answers. Thank heavens for shrubbery, she adds, aware of how weird it sounds to say. She asks Alison if she is okay, as she was the one in the so-called death seat.
The two women emerge from the crashed vehicle and inspect the damage. They note that there is not a scratch on the vehicle. It looks like the two tires blew, Ali observes. Janet can barely believe it; they were practically brand new! She’ll kill her mechanic, she shouts. To solve the problem, she decides to run to a pay phone and call AAA. She asks Alison if she will stay behind and watch the car. Sure, Alison says; she will be there when Janet returns.
Unbeknownst to Alison, the grimy Tatterdemalion emerges from the bushes behind her and stealthily approaches. “You are overconfident, woman!” he shouts as he pulls his hat over Alison’s face. Before she even has the chance to scream, she inhales the chloroform soaked into his hat and falls unconscious. As surely as the chemical renders her unconscious, he boasts, she will learn the lessons of corruption in Tatterdemalion’s domain!
For a time, Alison sees no light in her crowded mind, as dim daylight fades to pungent and desolate night. Then, she awakens. The smell hits her first. It smells like a sewer in here, she begins to say, before realizing she is actually in a sewer. Worse, before her stands the scarecrow-looking villain known as Tatterdemalion. This is his third and last warning, he declares! If she seeks to make her mark on this city, does she not worry what mark it might make on her? Repeating the same diatribe he gave the last singer he attacked, he asks Alison to imagine the touch of corruption on her face and her soul. As he says this, he takes a swipe at her, igniting the cloth on her left arm. That hurts, she shrieks! Ignoring her cries as she chokes the flame, Tatterdemalion implores her to save herself, and flee not just the vile Ace of Clubs, but the entire city! The decision is hers, he says.
Bewildered, Alison asks what it matters to Tatterdemalion that she sings at Reilly’s Ace of Clubs. She insists he answer. Tatterdemalion interprets this as the answer to his ultimatum; she has made her choice, he says, and therefore, vengeance must be his. He tells her he knows her kind. Her kind humiliates its betters. It crushes the spirits of the worthy. He sees so much wrong, he says—but he will make it right!
Dazzler springs to her feet and runs. Not over her dead body, she says in response to Tatterdemalion’s threat—and she was getting the feeling that is what he intended. Confused by her response, Tatterdemalion comments that she is feistier than she was on his last two visits; her fear has given her spirit! However, she has nowhere to run, he says. These sewers, and her life, belong to Tatterdemalion! He lobs a lead pipe at her as she tries to escape.
Dazzler, dodging the projectile weapon, begins piecing together some of the mystery. Her captor must be the one who scared away the other singers from the club. He can’t distinguish between them, however; he thinks they’re all the same girl! Grabbing the lead pipe, Dazzler tells Tatterdemalion that she’s not who he thinks she is. She beats the pipe on the concrete ground, producing a loud clanging noise as she says this. It powers her light-transduction power. Turning toward Tatterdemalion, and assuming he might need some convincing, she fires two light beams at him and asks if the other girls were super-powered mutants who could absorb sound and emit it as dazzling, radiant light. Her counter-attack blinds him, causing Tatterdemalion to grab his eyes and cry out in pain. She tricked him, he screams!
As she darts through the sewers, Dazzler hears Tatterdemalion screaming after her. She’ll pay for her transgressions, his cries echo. Dazzler hears them getting closer; he’s already on her heels, she says to herself! If only she could absorb more sound in the sewers. However, the only ambient noises are muddy echoes—not nearly enough to charge her attacks. She infers, though, that Tatterdemalion may wait until her light fades to attack again. That gives her a couple of minutes at best.
She continues to flee. The more she runs, the more she convinces herself she may have actually escaped the creepy stalker. Her flare must have really rattled him, she says. She speaks a second too soon: emerging before her in the showers is the ominous figure of Tatterdemalion. “What a swell party this is, eh?” he asks. He reaches out at her menacingly, but Alison once more slips his grip and sprints into another corridor. He mocks her feeble attempt at escaping; after all, these are his sewers, and he knows their twisting passages well! Wherever she goes, he’ll be waiting!
In her fear, Dazzler neglects to watch her footing, trips over a pipe laying over the ground and lands chest-first in a dirty puddle. Her clumsiness angers her; she’s playing right into Tatterdemalion’s hands. When she looks up, however, she receives a glimmer of hope—literally light at the end of the tunnel. It’s got to be an exit, she says! She runes toward it. Just as she nears the source, a man drops into her frame of vision, hanging from a ladder. What’s she doing down there, he asks? He comments that she looks like she’s got the devil on her tail! “Not the devil—just that guy!” Alison replies, pointing toward the shrouded figure of Tatterdemalion in the distance. The man, a construction worker, doesn’t understand what she means; he sees no figure in the distance. She’s getting spooked by shadows, he says. He tells her he can’t wait to hear her story. As he scopes out her figure, however, he decides maybe he can wait.
Ignoring his sleazy advances, Alison ascends the ladder and emerges from a manhole in the middle of a street. Two nearby men immediately begin to sexually harass her. Ignoring them, Alison runs back to Janet’s crashed car, where she finds her friend waiting with a tow truck. Janet asks where she’s been—and what that awful smell is. Shrugging, Alison tells her she had an unfortunate encounter with a bum. This answer surprises Janet, but she decides to hear the story later, after they get seated in the truck. It might leave them there, after all, and Alison has a show to do that night!
Meanwhile, while watching this reunion from the bushes, Tatterdemalion comments that he has a show to undo that night! He laughs maniacally.
Two hours later, on Rodeo Drive, Dazzler does some shopping for the night’s show. First the sewers, and then Beverly Hills, she thinks to herself while wearing her new purchase. This has been a real rags-to-riches afternoon. The silver lamé dress she purchased isn’t exactly what she wanted to wear for her debut, but it will have to suffice. Now, if she can just get through the performance without Tatterdemalion showing up…
No sooner than she completes that thought and steps outside does she spot Julia, the accompanist, window-shopping on Rodeo Drive. She asks Julia what she’s doing there. “Why shouldn’t I be here, Ms. Rudolph?” Julia asks. “Aren’t I good enough to shop at the same stores as the likes of you?” Immediately after hurling this insult, Julia corrects herself and apologies. “That was uncalled for,” she says. “Sometimes when I see young women…so talented, so full of future…” Trailing off, she admits to Alison she was very rude that afternoon and would like to make amends. She invites her to get a cup of coffee with her.
Shortly thereafter, at a coffee shop, Alison and Julia find their seats. As she sits down, Alison extends an apology to Julia in response; she was so excited during her audition that she totally failed to recognize who Julia was. Julia tells her there’s no reason for her to apologize—unless she spends a lot of late nights with the TV. “You don’t understand, Julia,” Alison replies. “I used to watch the films you made with Michael Wyatt all the time when I was a child. You can’t imagine how a seven-year-old reacts to the singing and dancing...and…and glamour…”
Julia laughs heartily. Please, she says to Alison! She’s letting her age slip. The truth is, however, that she was no Cyd Charisse, and Michael was no Gene Kelly. She loved him anyway, though; those were the days. Alison asks why they ever broke up. Bemused, Julia asks if she didn’t read all about it in “Confidential”. After apologizing for once again dating herself, Julia says it was because of Michael. They were fine doing little movies, she says, but he wasn’t interested in just a little success. He wanted it all—fast. But he kept getting turned down for the top roles. It didn’t take long for him to sour on Hollywood, she says as she sips her cappuccino.
Continuing, Julia states that Michael claimed he’d had friends who would set him up with a Vegas casino. Julia, meanwhile, had decided to continue on as an actress. And that, she says, was the end of that. Unfortunately, the movie produces wanted toe Wyatt-Walker team, not half of it. Although she managed to play some bit parts for a while, Julia’s acting prospects soon withered to nothing. Wouldn’t Michael take her back, Dazzler asks? Julia says he never got the chance: when she went looking for him, he had vanished from Vegas. She never saw him again.
Julia ends her cautionary tale by advising ‘Dolores’ to watch out. This town, she says, can chew a person up and spit her out before she sees it coming. Admonishing herself, Julia blames her own rotten pride for costing her Michael, her career and her happiness.
“Ah, what a swell party this is!” Julia says, standing up to leave. “I didn’t mean to bring you down.” She says it’s time to get ready for the show. After Alison offers to pay the check, she tells Julia that she’s available if she ever needs to talk. Thanks, Julia says, adding that she may take her up on it sometime. As Julia leaves, Alison’s heart goes out to her. She’s been through so much, she thinks. Sometimes Alison fears she may end up just like her. However, she suddenly insists she won’t; she knows the odds and they’re not going to stop her! Nothing will stop her—not even Tatterdemalion!
Night falls on Hollywood—a night much like any other. For some at Reilly’s Ace of Clubs, the night is fragrant with hope. For others, it is rotten with doubt and desperation. At the club, while Alison Blaire serenades the audience with her rendition of “We’ll Meet Again”, no one seems to notice the stench of hate—and of fear—until it is on them.
Suddenly, Tatterdemalion crashes through the wall and descends on the audience. A terrified bartender begins uttering a familiar expletive beginning with the word “holy”. Tatterdemalion, however, reminds the cretin there is nothing holy in him—or in him or his filthy money or liquor! As he ignites an object in the patron’s hand, he tells him he has purchased his baubles with the shattered dreams of his betters. Next, Tatterdemalion turns his attention to a nearby woman wearing an expensive fur coat. He sets it alight with a touch of his hand. The woman begins to scream. Tatterdemalion, his menace unchecked, tells the club that, for their slights, for the humiliation they’ve inflicted, and for the innocents they’ve trammeled, there shall be a reckoning! He catapults into a nearby table, splitting in two.
“A trashcan Karl Marx. Great!” an angry bouncer says. “Why can’t these things happen on my day off?” He and a peer arise to fight the intruder. They can make it easy for him, the say—or they can make it rough. Tatterdemalion accepts their challenge with glee. He tells the bully boys to make it rough, by all means! He declares they shall soon defer to their better. With a well-timed spin, he twirls the ends of his weighted scarf across both of their faces, knocking them unconscious.
With the obstacles out of his way, Tatterdemalion returns to the matter at hand—the destruction of the woman who dared defy him! He leaps to the stage. Julia Walker, thinking he is coming for her, begs for mercy. The stage manager takes the opportunity to remind Tatterdemalion he is not allowed on stage, and tells him to get off. Enraged, Tatterdemalion turns to him, shoots him an icy glare, and asks if he dares command him. The frightened stage manager concedes and says he can make an exception, just this once.
Turning now to Dazzler, Tatterdemalion reminds her she is out of both tricks and champions. He gave her fair warning, he adds; thrice he warned her of the corruption of this place, and thrice she chose to embrace it! Now, corruption embraces her!
A voice from behind him begs him to stop. Tatterdemalion turns to find Julia Walker begging him not to hurt anyone. Just tell them what he wants, she cries. However, as she gets a good look at his eyes—the only part of his face unconcealed—something stirs in her, and she shrieks. “You…speak to me…of mercy?” he asks with a genuine look of confusion in his eyes. “You want this tart to go unpunished?”
Suddenly, he turns and runs off the stage, screaming as he flees that it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Dazzler is confused as anyone by this turn of events. After her attacker departs, she takes a moment to assess Julia’s condition. Julia seems shaken, but otherwise okay. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that not everyone runs into these costumed creeps on a regular basis, she muses. But since I do—and it’s me he’s after—I’d better make sure this Tatterdemalion doesn’t get another shot at me! With that, she follows her assailant into the alleyway behind the club and chases after him. She wonders what she will do when she catches him, however, as she does not have much energy accumulated. Thankfully, she hears the blaring noise of a rock band playing in the club across the street. She never thought she’d say this, but thank heavens for Romeo Void!
Now charged, she turns toward the fleeing Tatterdemalion and fires a beam of high-powered light at him. Isn’t this a swell enough party for him, she asks? He wanted her—now he’s got her! Her attack succeeds in hitting—and enraging—Tatterdemalion. He turns toward Alison and, after telling her he would have let her live, proceeds to charge in her direction. As he readies his assault, however, he realizes her blast obliterated the weighted ends of his scarf—his primary means of attack. With his balance askew, he fails to connect with his target, and Alison jumps safely to the side.
Dazzler, still wearing her slinky silver dress, recovers after parrying his attack and tells him fair’s fair—he ruined her day, after all. She threatens to blast him again if he moves, only to realize that the rock music has stopped, thus depriving her of a second attack, as she has already exhausted her energy. “Your power deserts you?” he asks. “Allow me, then, to remedy your troubles with a single burning touch!” The leering Tatterdemalion prepares to incinerate his defenseless target. Suddenly, the rock music across the street begins again, empowering Dazzler. She blasts him across the alleyway and into a pile of trash. She’s got to practice reserving energy, she tells herself. This guy almost beat her! Regardless, Alison realizes there is something she now must do.
Later, Julia Walker is sitting before her vanity mirror when she hears a knock at the door. It’s Alison. Julia tells her to come in; the door is unlocked. To Julia’s surprise, however, Alison enters not alone, but with Tatterdemalion slung over her arm. She commands her to get that vile creature out of her apartment! Dazzler will take him to the police if that’s what Julia wants, she says. But first, she has a question. That phrase Julia uses—‘what a swell party this is’—where did it come from? It’s from an old Crosby movie called High Society, Julia answers. She and Michael used to say it all the time as an in-joke. Why, she asks? Dazzler tells her that she wondered why Tatterdemalion only attacked singers at that particular nightclub. When he used Julia’s same catchphrase in the sewer, and when he ran from her onstage, she found her answer. Unmasking Tatterdemalion, she tells Julia to meet her attacker.
The unmasked Tatterdemalion—revealed to be a balding, middle-aged man whose looks have faded—protests; she mustn’t see him like this, he says! Julia, shocked, recognizes his face—as Michael Wyatt’s! For a moment in the club, she thought she recognized him, she says—but she didn’t want it to be true! Why is he doing this? she asks.
Michael, falling to his knees, begs Julia not to be angry. He was only trying to help. He couldn’t bear to see them treat her like that—making her grovel for pennies at the piano. She should have been the star, he says—not this corrupt child. He begs for forgiveness. Julia tells him it’s all right.
She asks Dazzler—whom she still refers to as Dolores—if she plans on calling the police. Dazzler asks if that would even be necessary. They’ve both suffered enough, she says—and they both need something to live for. Maybe it’s not much, but how about living for each other? With that, she leaves the estranged partners to reunite. Julia ask Michael to get up; they’re going to get him clean, then everything will be all right.
As she walks home, Alison Blaire thinks not of the stars that rise over Hollywood, nor the stars that will be, but of those dark and lonely places in-between, where stars once were and are no more. That is not how she sees herself. As sleep drives the thoughts away, her place is in the light—and when she wakes, the future seems as free and warm as the early morning sun.
Janet says good morning to her in the kitchen of their apartment—if she can call three o’clock in the afternoon morning. How’d her night go, she asks? Did she knock them dead? Alison tells her she almost ended up dead herself! If it’s not the mutant-haters, there’s always someone else out there to get her, she says. Why can’t things be easier for her? Janet tells her to stop being ridiculous. Everyone has problems—in fact, Janet was frightened when she found out Ali was a mutant, she admits. However, when she pressed herself for one good reason why she should write off a mutant as a friend, she came up dry! She’s trying to make things easier for Alison, she says. “I like you, Ali.”
Dazzler thanks her for the sentiment. Life’s just been extra-rough lately, she says—and life used to be such a swell party.


[User]
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Provide a full summary of the comic book.

[Assistant]
The Girl in the Machine
Alison Blaire, outside in a rainy forest, stops dead in her tracks, freezing like a statue at the sight of the oncoming beast. She may be the Dazzler—a mutant with the power to transmute sound into spectacular, radiating light—but she’s staring into the heart of eighty pounds of solid muscle, fang and claw. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a bright idea after all, she thinks as she stares down rain-soaked the Doberman pincer. She’s missing Dynasty to be there, after all! Plus, she hasn’t even seen Diana in years—so why did she drop everything to come all the way out here when she called her this morning?
As another hound approaches, Dazzler assesses the estate. It’s huge. She can’t fathom that Diana really lives there. Reality comes crashing back down and she scolds herself for letting her mind wander. She should be able to fend off the Dobermans with some pulses of light, she thinks; she just hopes it doesn’t further aggravate them.
Thankfully, at that moment, the owner of the two Dobermans emerges from the woods. He tells the dogs, Gawain and Percival, to back off; he doubts the lovely lady means them any harm. Dazzler graciously asks the man his name. After introducing himself as Peter Koestler, he asks what she’s doing there. She came to see Diana Simon, she answers; they went to school together. Astounded, the man asks how that can be—as Diana died six months earlier. Dazzler finds this equally astonishing.
Realizing this may require additional discussion, Peter suggests the two of them get out of the rain and go inside Diana’s old house. She can talk to Diana’s father if she wishes. Alison, after introducing herself, agrees. However, she has some reservations. After all, if Diana’s dead, then who called her?
Shortly thereafter, inside the mansion, Peter brings Alison to meet Diana’s father. The jocular, hefty old man jokes that it’s just like Peter to go out in the rain and come back with a woman on his arm. Before he even has to ask who she is, however, he correctly identifies her as Alison Blaire. Peter asks how he knows her. The man answers that she was Diana’s best friend growing up. Although he doesn’t say it, he’s secretly surprised that none of the others recognize her either, especially after all the publicity she’s received lately. Perhaps he can turn this to his advantage, he muses—before realizing he could not in good conscience endanger her life too.
Dazzler takes the opportunity to offer her condolences to Mr. Simon. If she had known of Diana’s passing, she never would have barged in like this. Mr. Simon, dressed in a bathrobe and ascot, thanks her for her sentiments. Seeing that she’s soaked to the skin, he invites her to come get some dry clothes; as he recalls, she and Diana were about the same size. She doesn’t want to be any trouble, Alison says. Nonsense, Mr. Simon tells her! It’s good to see her again.
The moment they enter the adjacent room, however, Mr. Simon turns deadly serious and tells Alison that they can’t talk long, so she shouldn’t ask him to explain; if anyone discovered he told her what he is about to tell her, it would mean his neck. Grabbing her firmly by the shoulders, he tells her she shouldn’t be there. The men outside are dangerous, as is the business they’re conducting together. Although he doesn’t know what brought her there, she must leave—as fast as she can! Alison asks what the matter is; does this have something to do with Diana. Moving toward the door, Mr. Simon tells Alison that seeing her brings back good, happy memories. Her friendship with Diana existed during a simpler time. He begs her not to make him ruin those memories for all of them—please. Reluctantly, Alison accepts this dire warning.
Later, Mr. Simon shoots a game of pool with his other houseguests. After telling Mr. Simon it is his shot, his opponent, Abrams, asks if they can’t finish their game and get down to business. Whatever he says, Mr. Simon answers. He doesn’t see why Abrams’s two goons have to stick around too, as the matter pertains strictly to him and Abrams. Abrams, who sports a slick haircut and sunglasses, sardonically remarks that Donald and Peter, his associates, are willing to overlook Mr. Simon’s snide little comment. He’d like to say in his report that Mr. Simon is taking his daughter’s death well; wouldn’t he agree that it would be a shame to let that nasty affair get in the way of their business?
Mr. Simon agrees wholeheartedly. However, he assures Abrams that although he is growing a little gray and a little paunchy, and although he recently lost the person most precious to him in the world, he is far from past his prime! With that, he lines up his pool shot, and sinks three balls simultaneously. He’s still rather formidable in his own right, he says—when he puts his mind to it. Abrams concurs.
Elsewhere in the mansion, Alison Blaire wanders the halls. Part of her thinks she should take Mr. Simon’s advice and flee while she can, but she can’t shake the feeling that there’s a good reason somebody lured her there. She believes they’re lying to her about Diana. A quick peek around the house before she leaves couldn’t hurt, she tells herself. But where should she start? The place is so big! If it really was Diana who called her, maybe she left a clue; Diana was always so fond of games.
Alison opens a door at random in the hallway. To her astonishment, behind it lies a massive laboratory, at the center of which sits a shiny, transparent half-dome structure. “Intrigued, Miss Blaire?” a voice asks. Alison turns to find Peter leaning suggestively in the doorway. Has he been following her, she asks? He answers her question with another: would she like him to show her how it works? Dazzler prepares to admonish him, but Peter tells her to not be so touchy; he didn’t mean anything. He explains the contraption is one big video game. To show her, he has her sit down and review the controls, while he takes the other seat. It’ll be fun, he assures her!
After taking his seat on the chair on the other side of the half-dome, Peter engages the power and tells Alison to press the reset button. Watch the fireworks, he says. As the machine whirrs to life, he explains that Mr. Simon built it after Diana’s death in order to lift his spirits. It’s not strictly a video game at all, he adds; the figures they control are holograms of samurai warriors. Alison watches as the samurai holograms form before her eyes. She finds the whole thing wild. While Peter begins controlling his samurai, he informs Alison that it takes a little while to get used to the controls. Still, he sends his samurai to attack Alison’s. She manages to instruct hers to block the attack. She’s learning fast, Peter says; she must be a natural.
As Alison’s samurai deftly drops to the ground, lifts itself up with one hand and kicks its opponent into the air, Alison begins doubting that she’s a natural at all. From her perspective, the game’s gone haywire! She’s not even touching the controls, and her samurai is still fighting! Peter struggles to keep up with what he believes to be his superior opponent. However, his command console begins going haywire before shorting out entirely. Alison’s samurai then impales his in the chest with its sword. Peter’s console explodes.
Dazzler rushes to his side to see if he’s okay. He tells her he’s fine—more shaken up than anything. She asks what happened, but he doesn’t know either. He assumes it’s a defect in the wiring or something. Insisting the need to tell Mr. Simon about this, Alison rushes out the door, while Peter stays behind to inspect the contraption a bit more closely.
Unfortunately, on her way to find Mr. Simon, Dazzler gets lost in the expansive corridors of the mansion. She tries to open the door she swears leads back to the study, but finds it locked. She tries a different door instead. To her horror, however, it opens to another hi-tech laboratory, only at the center of this one she sees not a translucent dome, but a familiar-looking woman strapped to an invasive machine! “Diana,” she asks, “is that you?”
The dark-haired woman, wearing a purple jumpsuit with an oversized gold collar, slumps forward in her chair, as if unconscious. Her arms are shackled to the throne-like seat, while wires and electrodes protrude from the mantle she wears around her head like a crown. Despite her dismal state, however, the woman—Diana—manages to communicate with Alison. “It’s nice of you to come visit,” she says electronically. “I’m sorry I’ve been so negligent, but I don’t get out much these days.”
Empathic, Dazzler approaches. Diana tells her she doesn’t need to worry about her feelings; she knew she would be a shock in her current state. However, she had to see Ali one last time, with her eyes, and not through some infernal camera lens. She needs to talk to her. After Alison asks how she can be of help, Diana tells her she just needs to listen, before the computer system wins and shuts her lips forever. “Lips! That’s almost funny,” Diana laughs. She explains that the built-in speak supplies her voice. The computer, meanwhile, will soon consume her consciousness. However, as horrible as that is, she doubts she would ever return to what she had before this happened. She explains that she lost her mother to a long, painful and expensive battle with cancer. It drained their savings, and when she finally died, her father’s will to live seemed to run dry. They were at the point of despair when an organization called Revenge, Inc. approached them. Diana doubts Dazzler’s heard of them—few people have. Anyway, they offered the Simon family money and prestige in exchange for Diana’s help with certain experiments. It seemed, they said, that she possessed mental affinities that made her an ideal candidate for their schemes.
Revenge, Inc. operated on her, creating a mental link between her and their computers. Unknowingly, she began executing acts of corporate sabotage and intellectual property theft for them, all while safely inside the Revenge, Inc. headquarters. As time went on, however, she began to lose her autonomy to the machines. She discovered she could no longer live for any great amount of time without them. Vowing vengeance, she escaped and faked her own death. By that point, her father had risen to a high rank within Revenge, Inc.—after his miraculous recovery after his wife’s death, of course. Together, they used Revenge, Inc.’s own funds to finance a plot that will finally allow them to get their revenge on Revenge, Inc.!
Diana explains that the three men currently visiting the house are all from Revenge, Inc. Abrams, she says, is the regional manager. Donald is the man who designed the machine to which Diana is strapped, and who supervised the early stages of the process that did this to her. As for Peter, she has her own reasons for hating him. Tonight, she says, they will all die. She asks Ali if she can forgive her. Ali doesn’t quite understand what she means, though. Diana continues, adding that she will also require forgiveness for one more thing. Emotionally, she says, she needed to talk to someone, to relieve her soul of this terrible burden. But, she is no longer her own woman, and logic dictates that she cannot let Alison Blaire leave the house alive. “There must be no witnesses,” she says coldly.
Instinctively, Alison responds with a forceful burst of radiance. Her attack succeeds, and Diana shrieks in pain. Regardless, she tells Alison her powers can’t save her; she controls the entire house, after all! Secretly, Alison knows this to be true; she can blind and confuse Diana all she wants, but if she doesn’t make it to the exit before Diana recovers her wits, who knows what she’ll do to her? She dashes toward the door, while Diana taunts her. This is like a nightmare, Alison thinks as she slips free. She can’t even tell if it’s Diana or the computer speaking!
Once outside the door, Alison, realizing Diana can still see her via surveillance, destroys the video camera with a burst of energy. With the initial trial overcome, she asks herself what her next move will be.
Meanwhile, Mr. Simon meets in his den with the men of Revenge, Inc. Standing by the fire, he expresses his with that his guests would hurry up and get to their point, as he would rather not stand around chatting all night. Surprisingly, Peter agrees; he wants to get this over with too. He asks aloud where Abrams went.
At that moment, Abrams bursts through the door in a panic. They’ve got to get out of there, he shouts! He begins to say something about Diana, but suddenly falls forward, landing flat on his face. Peter and Donald rush to his side. It only takes them a moment to see the wound on his back and realize he’s dead. Who could have done this, Peter asks? He turns to Mr. Simon for an answer to his question. First, it was that accident with the samurai game, he says, and how this murder. What on earth is happening? What did Abrams mean about Diana?
Mr. Simon emits a sinister chuckle. This is just too perfect, he says. After all Peter and Diana endured together, it now comes down to this! He informs Peter that Diana is very much alive—and that she’s about to kill each and every member of the rotten, thieving—
Mr. Simon suddenly cries out in pain. He screams Diana’s name and, in what are his last words, hopes she doesn’t let him down. He falls to the floor, dead. Behind him stands Donald, brandishing the knife he used to stab Mr. Simon in the back. He asks Peter to forgive his impetuosity, but insists this line of work has whetted his appetite for revenge. Peter tells his associate to cut the small talk; they’ve got to vamoose, and fast.
Suddenly, Dazzler barges in the door. “Am I next on your list, Peter?” she asks defiantly. She asks what kind of madhouse she’s in; she came there to warn Peter, but now, she doesn’t know if he deserves a warning! Surging forth, Donald suggests they not waste any time on self-righteous mummery. Peter agrees and shoves Dazzler out of the way. She can wait there to die, he says; he has other plans, like making it out of the front door in one piece. Unfortunately for him, he finds the front door locked. Diana has them right where she wants them, it seems. With dread in his voice, his associate suggests he turn around. Peter turns in time see the holographic samurai leaping at him with its sword drawn. He shrieks.
Dazzler, however, doesn’t quite understand why he’s afraid; after all, it’s only a hologram. It can’t hurt them. Peter informs her that isn’t true at all, as they programmed the game with figures of solid light! That doesn’t explain how they can wander around the house like they are, though. He surmises these must be Diana’s modifications.
It’s a moot point, as the samurai strikes with his gargantuan sword. Dazzler and Peter dodge the attack, and it rends in two a nearby piece of furniture instead. Dazzler tries to thwart its approach with a beam of light, despite not knowing whether or not it will actually have any effect. It appears to have none at all. Meanwhile, while she singlehandedly fends off the lifeless attacker, Peter and Donald run for their lives. Donald does note her display of power, however, and finally connects that she is in fact Alison Blaire, the mutant! He suddenly remembers her from all the exposure she received during the shooting and subsequent abortion of her movie. Peter remembers her, too, and even recalls her superhero name, the Dazzler.
The three of them regroup in a room hidden away in the house. Peter begins formulating a plan that involves using Dazzler’s powers, but she objects; what makes them think she’s going to help a group of murderers like them? She doesn’t have a choice, Peter says; Diana is after her too. Alison begrudgingly agrees with him. They have to work together, or they’re all finished. Still, Peter secretly realizes that he will have to kill Dazzler when this is all over anyway; she knows way too much.
Moving on, Peter declares that their only hope will be to locate the control room and confront Diana face to face! Alison informs him that she has already located the control room and seen Diana. It was horrible, she adds. Upon learning this, Peter instructs her to lead the way.
Suddenly, the hard light samurai bursts through the door and zaps Donald in the back. The attack is lethal. As Peter checks his fallen friend for signs of life, he once again vows vengeance against Diana. He asks Ali if she can handle the intruder. No sweat, she tells him—for now! However, she fears it’s going to be a very long night. She blasts the hard-light samurai into the wall. As they flee, Peter tells her he finds her gift for understatement endearing. Alison remarks to herself that everything is happening so fast; if she’s not careful, she may do something she regrets. Besides, there must be some way to save Diana.
Peter turns and glances at the pursuing samurai as he exits the room. He notes aloud that it’s now blurry, like bad TV reception. Alison’s blasts must have fed back and damaged some of Diana’s circuitry, he deduces. She’s not invincible after all!
Before long, the two of them find themselves in the darkened hallway outside of Diana’s chambers. All that stands between them and the door is a security camera. They’ll never get past it without Diana knowing, Alison says. Peter, however, has an idea. He asks Ali if she can use her light-projection powers to create a hologram. Although she hasn’t ever tried before, Ali assumes she can. With that, Peter asks her to create a hologram of Mr. Simon; if Diana doesn’t know he’s dead, they can fool her into opening the door! It takes some work and some constructive criticism from Peter, but after a while, Dazzler manages to craft a convincing avatar. However, she has a hard time keeping the image clear and preventing it from fading. She sends the hologram in front of the camera and to the door. Peter just hopes that if the camera is malfunctioning the same way the other holograms are, Diana may not notice the imperfections in the Mr. Simon figure. Ali sighs; it’s not like they have any other options.
As Ali readies the hologram, she asks Peter what they’ll do once they enter the chambers. Peter corrects her; only he will be entering the room, he says—and he’s going to kill Diana once he does. Don’t, Ali shrieks! She reminds him Diana is her friend. Peter, however, refuses to argue; they don’t have any options left, he insists.
Luckily, the gambit with the hologram works, and Diana opens the door. Peter tells Alison to wait outside while he does the deed. It’s going to get hairy, he says. Moments after he enters the room, Diana addresses him and tells him he should not have come. “Diana, my love, please,” Peter replies. Diana, however, reminds him she is his lover no longer. The machines have taken care of that by twisting anything she may have felt for him into hate. He’s a faithless, treacherous liar, she says, and all she wants now is to witness his death! Brandishing a gun, Peter tells her he’s sorry it has to end this way—he really is.
Just as he prepares to fire, however, Dazzler enters and obliterates the gun in his hand with a well-aimed plasma blast. There has to be another way, she insists! Besides, she can’t believe what she just heard. He and Diana were lovers, yet he has no compunctions about killing her! Peter tells Dazzler she doesn’t understand. She’s not Diana anymore, but a cold-hearted killer.
Unfortunately, Dazzler’s intervention allows the samurai holograms to get the drop on them. They find themselves cornered. The ominous samurai approaches and raises his sword to strike, despite their cries for mercy. The blade comes down—and strikes the computer mainframe. While it continues its destruction, Diana, struggling to speak, addresses Dazzler. She tells her dear friend she doesn’t have to fear her anymore. She doesn’t know if she understands her plan, either, as she had only half-formulated it herself. Diana explains that she had to keep her plan from the computer and trick it into thinking she was luring Dazzler and Peter to their deaths—all so she could end her own life. Lifting her grizzled head, she thanks Alison. Seeing her again, and learning she still cared enough to save her life, has given her the strength to proceed with her plan. When the samurai succeeds in destroying the computer, she says, she will perish with it! Diana experiences immense pain as the samurai thrashes the mainframe, but it’s her only way. She implores Ali—and even Peter—to escape while they still can. Her death-throes are tearing the house apart!
The two of them begin to run. Peter tells Alison to hurry; there’s nothing they can do for Diana, he insists. Regardless, Alison has doubts—and tells Peter to shut up. While running through the collapsing mansion and searing flames, Dazzler puts together the remaining pieces of the puzzle. Diana was trying to leave her clues after all, she says: the samurai game, their private discussion, etc. It’s a shame she didn’t catch on sooner; what if she could have done something differently and saved Diana?
Peter’s shouts snap her back to the situation at hand. What if the front door’s locked, he asks? Dazzler doesn’t care about the door; she can easily pulverize the walls and create a new exit, which she does with ease. She explains to Peter that she could have escaped whenever she wanted. It was her concern for Diana that kept her indoors. Peter calls her crazy as she leaps out of the makeshift hole she created.
They manage to get clear of the mansion mere moments before it explodes. The shockwave knocks them both to the ground. Peter is the first to wake, however. He approaches Dazzler’s motionless body and realizes he should probably kill her right away, quickly and painlessly. Just get it over with, he tells himself. However, that may be what he should do, but he’s had enough of this death-dealing—and enough of Revenge, Inc. It’s time he paid attention to life instead. He walks away, thus sparing Dazzler’s life.


[User]
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Provide a full summary of the comic book.

[Assistant]
Challenge
Some people will tell you it’s the roughest bar in San Francisco’s Mission District, which most people will tell you is rough enough. It’s not a bar that outsiders stumble into by chance. And heaven help them if they enter by choice. Its customers always seem to be waiting for the next big score, the next bust, the next brawl. Small time, big time…criminals, fugitives…they thrive securely in the mean, sullen atmosphere.
Most days. Today, the bar has an unexpected—and unwelcome—visitor: a large, gray wolf, who sits at the end of the bar, licking his menacing chops. As soon as the bartender sees him, he startles and backs away.
Later, some will claim it was a small bear. Others, an amazingly large timber wolf. For all, all will charge for the back door without bothering to speculate.
As the patrons burst out the front door, a man standing on top of the building lowers a lasso and ropes his target: a tough, black-haired man wearing a ponytail. The lasso loops around this man’s neck and left wrist, and his captor swiftly yanks him onto the roof. “Hush,” his captor—a silver-haired bounty hunter—whispers to him. “You don’t wanna disturb your drinkin’ buddies in mid-run. Might give ‘em a real bad Charley horse t’stop short an’ come back to see what the noise is,” he says. “Might also make my finger twitch on the hair trigger of this sawed-off shotgun you’re usin’ for a chin-rest. That’d mean bringin’ you back to Los Angeles without a head—an’ some folks might have trouble believin’ you were really Wesley Long, wanted for armed robbery an’ skippin’ on a 40K bailbond.”
The bounty hunter forces Wesley down the ladder at gunpoint. Wesley asks if he’s some kind of law. “Just a private businessman, Wes,” the man answers. “O.Z. Chase, bounty hunter. You’re worth 10 percent of that bail you ran out on.” Wesley reminds his captor that doesn’t  mean he’ll necessarily collect that money; he’s not in L.A. yet, after all. He offers these tough words a moment too soon, as the timber wolf emerges from the shadow a second later, striking fear into Wes.
“Okay, boy. Into the truck. You’re scarin’ Mr. Long,” O.Z. says to the wolf. It doesn’t budge. “Hey! I said into the truck, you ornery beast!” Still, the wolf refuses to move. Finally, O.Z. relents, pulls a Cuban cigar out of his front pocket, and tosses it to the wolf. It chomps down on the cigar enthusiastically and devours it whole. “Disgustin’, ain’t it? I hate that animal. Just lucky his taste in beer runs cheap—otherwise, I’d never have gotten ‘im into that bar tonight.” Wes cowers as O.Z. nudges him into his truck, where the wolf currently sits. He doesn’t expect him to ride beside that monster, does he? O.Z. tells him he could tie him to the fender like a dead deer, but the civil liberties union always complains when he does that. Besides, he’ll be okay—if he doesn’t crowd the wolf or move around too much. He’ll be safe in an L.A. holding cell soon, he says. The sooner the better, Wesley replies.
Wes asks O.Z. what he calls the wolf. O.Z. hardly bothers to call him anything at all; he’s too contrary to respond. He explains that a fellow he know left the wolf with him as a marker on a debt. That guy called him Cerberus. In Greek legend, he explains, Cerberus is the beast who guards the gates of Hades—at least he hopes it’s legend.
With that, Chase gets on his C.B. radio and checks in with his transponder. He asks if they have any more marks for him. A big firm—U.S. Bail Bonds—has been calling for him, the receiver says. They want him to go after a very special individual in San Diego—for a very special bonus. “Real fine, darlin’,” O.Z. responds. “Tell ‘em I’m comin’ home.”
Later…
The Hotel Coronado in San Diego Harbor is an elegant holdover from the last century—and never more so than at sunset, when the beach grows deserted expect by those who appreciate the fading sunlight and the peaceful quiet—while they last.
Today, a brawny, dark-haired man sits on the beach, listening to his Walkman while he soaks in the sunlight. His associate Logan approaches. He tells Petey their vacation is over; it’s time to get to work. Standing between Peter Rasputin and the sunlight, Logan tells him to turn off that concert. As he says this, however, he accurately identifies the music. It’s her, he barks! He’s listening to her on that tape! Peter replies that it’s beautiful music; she has a fascinating voice. Undeterred, Logan unsheathes his claws and destroys Peter’s Walkman. “Friendly advice, bub,” he says. “—when you’ve come to hunt, don’t get sentimental about the prey.”
Elsewhere, at Harborsite Motel—which boasts its Dazzler concerts as an exclusive engagement—Dazzler lifts weights in the weight room. The establishment’s manager tracks her down mid-lift and tells her everyone’s looking for her. The very least she can do, he says, is make herself a bit more…available. Dazzler, still lifting, reminds him she’s in his lounge for every performance and rehearsal. She doesn’t cut either one short. However, any time she has left is her own. The manager replies that they’re talking guys who just wanna share a few drinks and have a couple of giggles. They’re talking business, he says—the kind of thing that keeps the spenders coming back for more. Alison tells him to check his contract—all those little typed words they both signed. It says he hired a singer, not a B-girl.
“I hired a mutant, doll! There’s plenty who wouldn’t,” the manager snaps back. He expects a return on his favor. His regulars are connected, he adds—as in mob-connected. Some of them invest in his place. It excites them cozying up to a real, live mutant. Oblige them, he insists. Dazzler, flinging her sweaty towel in his face, tells him he got a class act at a cut rate because of what she is. She warns him not to push his luck beyond that. Angered, the manager sics his bodyguard, Truck, after her. She knows nothing about gratitude, he says to the towering man. Talk to her!
Truck obliges his boss with glee. Grabbing Dazzler by the arms, he pulls her in close to his face and tells her he likes to work close when he talks. “Truck,” Dazzler tells him, “you’re about to be cured of that.” She unleashes a full-body blast of light into his face, repelling and blinding him. Her strobe light hits him with an intensity that sends the big man reeling and crashing into the mirrored wall. Now that they’ve talked about gratitude, she says to her manager, how about they try respect. The manager cowers. Trembling, he reminds Dazzler she hasn’t collected her pay yet and begs her not to hurt him. In response, she tells the little man to take this job—and turn blue. With that, she casts a refractory blue pall over his face that causes him to appear blue when he looks in the mirror. Horrified, he runs out of the gym, screaming. Dazzler stands triumphant.
Behind her, a man begins to clap—much to her surprise. She pivots around and sees the X-Men’s Wolverine, fully garbed, crouching on a balance beam. “Nice touch, the blue light,” he says. “But it was overkill with the big bozo. Waster power you’re gonna need—facin’ me.” He unsheathes his claws with a characteristic SNIKT! His name is Wolverine and he’s the best he is at what he does. Even among his peers, the mutant super heroes known as the X-Men, few can match his him at fighting—and winning. Still, here in this hotel spa, aided by her own mutant ability to absorb sound waves and convert them into any form of light, Alison Blaire is about to give it her very best try.
Do buy herself some time, Dazzler fires a plasma beam at a nearby weight rack. It collapses between herself and her attacker. Then, she begins to run. Until she regains the initiative, she better make this a running battle, she tells herself. The problem with that, though, is what—or whom—she might run into.
As she darts out of the room, she runs headfirst into the X-Men’s Colossus, already in his steel-coated form. As much as it pains him to be a part of this, Colossus says, they couldn’t send just one X-Man for the task! Dazzler guesses she should be flattered. However, with his size, his strength, and his body that can shift into living steel, she decides she’ll have to play it sneaky instead. She fires a beam of light at his eyes, momentarily dazzling him, then slips between his legs. She only makes it a few meters before Colossus smashes his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave through the concrete that lifts Dazzler off her feet. As he does this, Colossus tells her playing it sneaky won’t be enough—at least not with the mistakes she’s making, such as letting Logan force her outdoors, away from an easy source of sound like the motel’s Muzak system.
Dazzler, grabbing the hose used to fill the swimming pool, asks if he’s sure that’s a mistake. Maybe it’s the musician in her, she says, but moving farther away from that so-called music might be the only fringe benefit of this surprise attack! Besides, Colossus should know by now that Dazzler can easily store energy within her body and release it later, at her will.
Unbeknownst to all parties involved, up above, a man sits in shadows and watches this attack unfold. The lady’s got nerve, he observes. However, the joke may be on her because of the way she’s charging. He comments that this wing of the place is mostly deserted, so there’s no need for him to enter the mix—yet. He’ll wait and see what happens.
Down below, what happens is that Alison swings the pool hose like a whip, wraps it around Colossus’s feet, and gently jerks it, sending him into the water. By the time he resurfaces, Dazzler is already on her way up to her room. Wolverine finds his comrade in the pool. After telling him to cut short his little swim, he tells him they can end this by cornering Dazzler. She’s boxed herself in, he says; he orders Colossus to guard the door while he goes through the window. Dazzler may be good, but she’s not good enough—just like he said at the start.
Flashback…
Logan insists they turn her away. They’re professionals; she’s not, he says. It’s as simple as that. Rogue, crossing her arms, swears Logan is the most infuriating man she knows. Alison Blaire is a fellow mutant, she reminds him, and in addition to being a friend of Storm’s, she’s come to them for help—just like Rogue herself did not long earlier. There’s a big difference, Logan responds. These are their lives; Dazzler just wants to play superhero while her showbiz career is in the dumps. Nightcrawler interjects and accuses Wolverine of twisting the girl’s intentions. She asked to train with them, he says—to hone her powers and use them positively to help curb the recent anti-mutant hysteria.
“Hysteria she helped fan when she went public about bein; a mutant, elf,” Logan reminds him. “Now she wants to make it all better. Well, our game isn’t somethin’ you jump in an’ out of like the latest fashions she wears.” Nightcrawler asserts that Alison has the raw talent, and that he and Rogue are convinced she’s serious about developing it. He suggests Wolverine is merely being stubborn because she keeps requesting he not smoke around her. Logan replies he’s being stubborn because, with the country’s current mood, one serious fumble by any mutant could put them all in trouble—fatal trouble. The professor says it’s up to them, he adds. He asks Peter where he stands.
Peter, however, finds himself distracted by a sight outside the window: Dazzler playing her guitar to the attentive New Mutants. He continues to stare silently across the elegant grounds of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Returning to reality for a moment, he says that instead of arguing, they should try a Danger Room session to see if her abilities are as fantastic as her voice.
Later, in compliance with Peter’s request, the X-Men put Dazzler to the test in the Danger Room. She wears a protective golden suit as she dodges the obstacles and lasers they send her way. From the observation deck, Nightcrawler comments on her excellent performance to Wolverine. She’s doing better than even he did during his first session. Wolverine remains silent while Dazzler overcomes the trials. His silence continues even when the rest of the X-Men vote to accept Dazzler’s request for re-training. To challenge her even further, Wolverine, Colossus and Nightcrawler engage her in combat in the Danger Room. The battle is intense and grueling, but she manages to neutralize everyone—except Wolverine. Although Dazzler’s own skills improve by leaps and bounds during these brief sessions, she is unable to thwart Wolverine’s approach. He sneaks behind her, grabs her around the neck. Gotcha, he says. As she struggles to break free, he tells her she should have blinded him so he couldn’t dodge her attacks, then gone after him with her laser blasts. “That’s the trouble with you, songbird. You give a good performance—I do it for real!” With that, he swipes his claws across her chest.
She begins to cry as Wolverine walks away. Some types might settle for just slicing her practice armor, he says. He tells her to stick with showbiz, before she—or someone else, like one of his friends—gets hurt. He’d hate to think of what he would do to prevent that.
Dazzler recovers from his taunts and the traumatizing incident—she’s too tough and abhorrent to self-pity to not recover. However, the incident haunts her for the remainder of her training. Ultimately, Professor X assembles the team and addresses Dazzler: apart from one dissenting opinion, they believe she’s ready. Naturally, he says, they’d be please if she wished to say longer, and perhaps consider joining them. Dazzler rebuts she’d be a risk to the secrecy that protects the X-Men and the New Mutants—and making it on her own has always been important to her. However, she doesn’t like doubt, particularly from a group she respects so much. “Let’s settle this, Wolverine,” she says.
“Even if you don’t like the results? Name it,” he replies. Dazzler proposes a final, surprise test, in real-life conditions. They’ll call it a graduation exercise, she says. She’ll assume full responsibility and assure no innocent lives are threatened. “Barest hint of that possibility—you automatically flunk, darlin’,” Logan replies. “An’ if I’m part of it…you will anyway.”
Outside the mansion, Dazzler thanks Professor X for not objecting to her proposal. She worries she’s foolishly letting pride get the better of her. If she were, he would have objected, Xavier responds. By challenging Wolverine’s doubt, she must be hoping to eliminate any of her own. He offers her a suggestion or two before she departs. With that, Dazzler leaves Westchester, and resumes her life on the West Coast—waiting for the ultimate test to come at last.
Present…
Wolverine and Colossus come crashing into Dazzler’s motel room through the door and window. They find it empty, prompting Colossus to ask if they made a mistake. Wolverine tells him to trust a man with animal senses; she’s there somewhere. He barely finishes suggesting they watch the dressing alcove when Dazzler, garbed in a new costume, bursts into view and hits play on a portable tape deck, which loudly fills the room with music. Wolverine and Colossus barely get the chance to hear it, however, for the throbbing sound waves are swiftly absorbed by Alison Blaire’s mutant body and transduced into light—brilliantly gleaming, pulsing light. Dazzling light.
Colossus, barely able to speak, mutters that Dazzler’s new costume seems to help her control and amplify her powers. The light she projects is too strong and too intense for them to avert or shield their eyes. The two X-Men can only reel as Dazzler continues to shine.
Moments later, when they regain some of their senses, they stagger around the now-empty room. Colossus’s pupils ache. It takes him a moment to realize that he can once again hear the music, which means Dazzler has departed. She’s may be gone, Wolverine says, but she’s not gotten far enough. He points to her outside in the parking lot. She’s flashing light that even their recovering peepers can spot her, he says. At his command, Colossus grabs hold of him and leaps to the ground below. She was foolish to not score on them while they were weak, Logan observes. If she wants to throw that opportunity away, he’s more than happy to take advantage.
As they chase after Dazzler, Colossus suggests that maybe she’s adhering to Professor X’s lesson to always move a battle away from places innocent bystanders might stumble. Perhaps she’s not running, he says—but leading.
Meanwhile, from the shadows above the motel, the observer remarks that he had better join in the following of Alison. He’s got to be ready to move when this business ends. He steps back into the shadows to head in the direction of the chase, toward the waterfront.
The final confrontation occurs near the beach, on a condemned pier scheduled for demolition. They won’t hurt anything there, Dazzler says to her assailants—except for each other. Of course, they could avoid that by declaring the trial complete. She’s obviously improved over her training period, she says, and her new outfit—a design of Professor Xavier’s—allows her not only to store sound more efficiently, but to gauge and focus her light powers better than she ever could before! “So, what you’re facing is—”
“Window dressing!” Logan interjects. He tells Colossus to forget how much he likes her singing and show Dazzler what getting tough is really like! At his urging, Colossus hoists one of the sturdy pier supports out of the water and prepares to use it as a weapon. He tells his comrade that although he was selected for this mission, whereas Logan volunteered, he does not shirk once committed—particularly since Alison herself insisted they hold nothing back! With that, he chucks the log in Dazzler’s direction. The massive piling hurtles as easily as a javelin, but to Colossus’s horror, Dazzler makes no effort to duck or dodge it—until, at the last instant, when she shoots a thin laser blast, with unequalled precision, and rends the log in two. She doesn’t stop for applause.
The separate pieces soar past her and pierce the sides of a docked freighter. Dazzler turns and uses them as steps to vault herself onto the ship’s deck. Once aboard, she turns and fires a focused laser beam at the dock, severing it from the shore—and leaving Colossus and Wolverine liable to fall when it collapses. Colossus takes the time to explain this to Logan, who leaps away from his frustrating peer and grabs hold of the boat. Colossus is not so lucky, and tumbles into the water when the wood gives way beneath his feet. Wolverine, hanging by one arm, looks up at Dazzler. Cute, he tells her—but he’s still coming for her.
Even as Wolverine springs upward, Dazzler’s hands are one of the derelict craft’s loading cables. She swings herself to the portion of the pier still attached to the shore. How far does he want to take this, she asks Logan? She’s heading for shoreside. Although he might make it in one leap, she threatens to blast him with her lights and nail him cold before he does. Once more, she stands triumphantly. Unfortunately for her, the sunken Colossus reaches up through the decrepit wood beneath her feet and pulls her into the water. The Russian-born mutant’s iron grip clamps on the Dazzler, draining her of breath and consciousness, trapping her so she cannot use her arms to direct her light powers. However, she can fire it out of her eyes as well, only not so subtly or gently—and this, she does. She apologizes to Peter for what she’s doing to him.
Colossus stiffens with shock and pain, his great body momentarily standing, flailing out against the relentless sweep of oblivion, until he slumps against the floating debris. Alison Blaire climbs wearily from the water. Upon reaching solid ground, she finds Wolverine staring her down menacingly. She was right, he says—it only took one leap. Now, it’s dues-paying time! He doesn’t think she has the scratch either, he says with his claws exposed. “Look at you,” he mocks, “—bitin’ back your tongue over hurtin’ Petey! You’re too soft for this business, Songbird!”
“Then I’ll make this a swansong you’ll never forget!” Dazzler shouts back. She unleashes everything she has at the approaching Wolverine. His charge, which began while he was still speaking, slows. The light surging out of Dazzler pounds Wolverine in waves of color. It sears at his perceptions, staggering and slowing him. However, he still nears. Not enough, he taunts. Instead of picking her shots and concentrating them, she blew it! And now, he says, his claws are within striking range purely because she let him goad her into trying to overwhelm him! No, Dazzler replies—she just let him think that.
Abruptly ceasing her light eruption, she focuses it into a thin laser beam, as sharp as a razor—or an Adamantium claw. She swipes this beam across his chest, just as he’s about to strike. As Logan stares down at the rip in his costume, Dazzler shrugs and returns his prior taunts in kind. Real enough for him now, she asks? Or should she have shaved his chest?
Wolverine stares at the opening, long and hard. Then, he lunges. She should’ve put him out! he says. She shouldn’t go for cheap psychological points when the chips are really down!
“Short of laying you wide open so we can all enjoy how long it takes your mutant healing ability to work,” another voice chimes in, “—she’s proved enough, Wolverine!” An crimson force beam strikes the ground immediately before Logan and knocks him on his butt. “The deal was that she handle the situation well. Nobody said she had to become you.” As he approaches Logan, Cyclops comments that it was a good thing he stayed to referee. Professor X had him come to give Alison some final tips for honing her light blasts—some of the same tips her used to master his own uni-beams.
Wolverine is shocked to see Cyclops. Colossus, meanwhile, emerges from the water, excited to see his old friend. He must’ve emerged from retirement, Colossus says. He’s away from his bride and his home in Alaska! Cyclops insists he’s just visiting—and that he’s anxious to get back to Madelyne. He asks if this trial is finally over. Colossus insists it is. While waiting for confirmation from Logan, he adds that he doesn’t want to be knocked into the water anymore that evening; he feels a terminal rust already. Once more, Logan remains silent.
Dazzler decides to settle for two out of three. With that, she moves off into the darkness, and whatever waits beyond it. “Kid better be all you guys an’ the others think she is,” Wolverine says after she departs. “Gonna be bad days ahead for every mutant—but especially for one—who made herself the most obvious target of all.”
The next morning, in Los Angeles, two men meet in an office building. One of them, O.Z. Chase, expresses astonishment at the identity of his next mark: the Dazzler? The lady who got folks all upset demonstrating some kind of light powers for a movie promotion? Not the usual bail jumper, he remarks. His client tells him that’s why the people he represents wanted to hire the best bounty hunter. That’s also why they’ve authorized their firm to pay him half of the quite sizeable bonus in advance—along with a box of his favorite cigars. They certainly know their man, Chase responds. And if the authorities aren’t moving on this, he’ll bring her in—mutant, superhero, or whatever she is. He departs.
After he leaves, his client thinks to himself that he’s certain O.Z. Chase will keep the Dazzler busy. And, at last, he will speed them up toward the beginning of the end. Now alone in his office, his hand begins to disintegrate, forming a pile of dust on his otherwise impeccably clean desk.