SEVEN

"So, is the US ready to make this essentially ideological conflict a full scale war?"

Greenblatt squared his shoulders and glowered at the bleeding heart liberal filmmaker who posed the question. It was artsy little shits like him that embodied everything Greenblatt despised and made him long for the days of mandatory service. "The United States government is no longer willing to negotiate with a regime that endorses and houses known terrorists," He responded with more calm than he felt. The cameras were good at keeping his legendary anger at bay. "We are not heading into a one sided conflict here. They have been the aggressors, they have instigated war."

The talk show host who sat between Greenblatt and the documentary maker nodded like he understood. He turned to the filmmaker. "Your response, Mike?"

"I think this administration would do anything to keep the truth of this war from the American people. The attack on flight 706 was a tragedy. The loss of life on American soil is always an outrage. But what the good General here doesn't understand, what he doesn't get, is that the attack had nothing to do with Genosha as a nation. The regime wants to get rid of the Mutant Liberation Front as much as anyone. The US going in with all guns blazing will not only set the scene for a retaliatory attack from the Genoshans, it will bring us no closer to bringing the people responsible to justice."

Greenblatt clenched his jaw. "We have very good intelligence that indicates the Genoshan regime has had contact with the MLF on and off for the last decade."

He took a breath before continuing. "They have continually lied and dodged our questioning."

"I wonder if the people of the United States shouldn't wage war on their own government if that was reasonable grounds for conflict."

"You see, this is what I don't get about people like you," Greenblatt shot back. "You favour gun control, you oppose war, but you still expect to be kept safe and secure and free. All of those things cost our fighting men and women-and all of us in some way- dearly. The Genoshans have threatened our way of life. Their people have been responsible for a horrific crime against humanity. You expect us to ignore that?"

"No, you should be responding, but to throw diplomacy out the window in favour of an assault on an already hostile nation…"

"They are hostile because they hate freedom."

This bought a smile to the filmmaker's lips. "I agree that the Genoshan regime has a shocking history of human rights violations, and I agree that the regime should be removed from power, but these things can come without the necessity for violence."

"You're a fool if you believe that."

The host cut in at this point. "We have to leave it there gentlemen. Thankyou very much for your time."

Greenblatt stalked into his office followed by Robert Sanders. "You did well," Sanders said as he dumped a pile of folders onto Greenblatt's desk. "You stuck to your guns. I think the public will appreciate that."

Greenblatt shot him an acidic look. "It's any wonder the message got across at all, with that limp wristed excuse for a human being trying to brow beat me with his opinions! As if I were the bad one!" He slumped into his chair and sighed heavily. "It makes me sick to my stomach that we are just sitting on our hands while these murderers are allowed to walk the earth."

"The President is not a fool," Sanders said easily, hands spread. "He will listen to the groundswell of support that will inevitably come for an attack on Genosha."

Greenblatt nodded stiffly. He knew what was in store for them if war was declared, having served in Vietnam as a teenager and Desert Storm as a man. He knew the politics behind conflict, and he saw its ugly side. But a man like Greenblatt could only ever do one thing: fight. He was designed to kill, trained to be a weapon. Leading a nation that was proud in the same way would be an honour he had every right to expect.

Amelia Voight emerged in the cavern and squinted at the flickering light afforded by the torches set into the high walls around her. Despite the blistering heat outside, she was shivering from her journey through the cave system. She regarded her surroundings with an air of disdain; the minimalist art, depicting mutant kind's superiority over humanity, the fat, high candles on the floor forming a path to a makeshift shrine covered in tattered crimson cloth. A part of her wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. She walked towards the shrine, a slight smile on her face, her downcast face letting her red hair fall forward as she reached out to touch the helmet placed upon it. It looked like a severed head in the darkness, reminding her of some pathetic attempt at a Halloween display.

"Its hard to take in sometimes."

Amelia turned to see the striking figure of Fabian Cortez standing in the mouth of the cave, backlit by flickering candles. "what is?" She asked softly.

Cortez moved into the room. He ran his hands over his newly shorn spiky red hair and smiled crookedly. When the attack on flight 706 thrust him into the international spotlight, he had cut his trademark shoulder length locks. "The enormity of his vision. The great gift the gave to our kind," He replied softly, his deep voice filling the room still. "It touches me so deeply I almost want to weep."

Amelia simply smiled at Cortez. She had joined his sect in the hope that it would fill the void that had been missing in her life. She hoped Cortez would help her re-connect with her beliefs. Instead she found that Cortez was a deranged young man who worshipped a deity that she had known personally more than twenty years ago. "You follow his path," She replied, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. "You've made the world sit up and take notice. Its been days since flight 706. The whole world wants answers that only you can give."

Cortez breathed in deeply. "You still think the action I took was not justified?"

Amelia paused. She struggled to keep her true thoughts within. "I think…I think he could have done the same thing. I think that although my conscience finds the loss of any lives abhorrent, that a lesson needed to be taught."

Cortez smiled. "Indeed. We need to send the word out to our mutant brothers. The first shot has been fired, as it were. The war will begin and he will return to fight alongside his faithful."

No one spoke for a good hour after take off. The air was thick with fear, apprehension and anger. Each X-man went about their pre flight duties almost robotically, avoiding the need to talk as much as possible. It was always like this before a big mission, though Xavier as he was strapped into his chair by Storm. Logan's opposition to his inclusion weighed heavily on his mind. What if he was making a mistake? It wouldn't be the first time. Leading a group of young mutants into a war that had become a crusade for him could be his greatest folly.

"You seemed to know a lot about Genosha back there," Alex said to Logan.

Logan nodded and met the younger man's eyes. "I was sent there probably before you were born. Different time back then. It wasn't the mutants that time but the Reds."

Alex nodded. "I've read about those missions. Extraordinary what we could get away with back then."

Logan gave him a sardonic smile. "If we survive this, I'll tell ya all about it, kid."

Cyclops looked back at them. "We should be near Genosha in about two and a half hours."

"I still wish we had more than some decades old maps to go on," Jean said.

"Genosha is about as closed off as you can get. It will be difficult finding smooth passage in at the best of times."

Scott looked at Jean, who was beside him in the co pilots chair and the atmosphere seemed to shimmer between them.