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Volume 2 Issue #3 July 2008	"Mobilization" Written By Tom Moses

He stood on the flight deck, despite the wind pounding his body.  The visor kept his eyes protected and he stared out onto the horizon, watching the clear skies and trying to find some sort of solitude.  It was the calm before the coming storm and Scott Summers stood as the eye of what will soon be a terrible storm.  He is not a poetic man, but he knew of the beautiful ironies and great stories by the likes of ancient authors such as Homer, Virgil, and even the nameless monk that saved Beowulf from obscurity.

            Beautiful stories of battle and honor, of flawless warfare and tactics to be enjoyed.  In his youth he had been encouraged to dissect those stories, at the age of seventeen Scott was able to recite a great length of Caesars’ theories on the conquest of Gaul, before he could legally consume alcohol he could claim to surpass the battlefield prowess of the Black Prince, and damn near any Caesar.

            If only he had the empire to prove it.

            Not yet thirty and yet another battle lies ahead.  His mind played it all out and his stare remained.  That thousand yard stare, a switch that tuned out the human element that would slow him down.  Three hours to go and its all strategy from here on out.  Rogue would rally the troops, perhaps not the expendable ones, but she’ll take care of her own.

            And as far as Cyclops was concerned, it was enough.

            “Are you up here to avoid us, or to think?”

            “Yes,” Cyclops responded, coldly.

            Rogue’s feet hovered just above the black tarmac.  She didn’t bother moving to face him she only floated just behind.  “You’re not expecting to bring everyone home today, are you?”

            “I’m not going to lie to you or anyone else.  So you might want to be a little careful with your questions.”

            “What happened to you?”

            There is a lingering to his breath, “You’re here because you want to be.  I’m here to serve a purpose, you have as close of a flawless plan you can have with this piece of shit intel I was given.  I’ve brought in the sort of distractions you’ll need to do your job.  Please excuse me if I don’t worry about the death of a woman who is invulnerable.”

            “Plenty of others to worry about, Scott.”

            The horizon remains the same, clear to his eyes, tinted red but otherwise the same and unchanged skyline that had been there since he first started looking out.  He pondered Rogue’s statement for a time, but it was the horizon that held more of his interest.  “Perhaps I should let you worry about them; it seems to be your thing.”

            “You’re pretty far gone then.  You lose Jean and the world and suddenly the world becomes too dark a place to consider worthwhile?”

            “And it looks to me the moment you drop the Cajun, all new doors open for you.  But that’s what you do best, after all, look for the best situation available and high tail it.”  He turns to face her, and their eyes meet, but each of their faces couldn’t tell a story with such blank expressions.  “Don’t presume to lecture me, you’re not any sort of moral authority on the subject.”

            “I wouldn’t dream of giving you a lecture, golden child of Xavier.  Just do yourself a favor when this loner trait starts to lose its appeal, don’t bother any of my people.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re as expendable as your Delta Squad.”

            “Noted, filed, and forgotten.”

<hr>

            She files off, leaving Cyclops to do whatever he did to prepare for days like this.  Down through the hangars, she passes through several more decks within the S.H.I.E.L.D. hellicarrier and into a large enough room to be just shy of a lecture hall.  Lined with layers of chairs, they are elevated just high enough to ensure that everyone would have a clear view of whatever they needed to see below. 

            They call it their ready room, and though it was empty, she started to thumb through some of the files and orders that she needed to pass out.  She remembered how easy things were in the X-Men, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needed to keep its paper pushers happy, they needed this sort of information and she was in the position to be custodian of these orders and the paper trail of the impending missions.  Generally, she relied on Radius for these things, as he was accustomed to doing this sort of work in Alpha Flight’s bureaucracy.

            It’s all fairly mundane, but it’s when her thumb passes over the folder marked “Delta” that makes a cold shiver run down her spine.  A squad of men, made up of mutant killers and dangerous men all around that made Rogue question Cyclops’ sanity.  

            The names on his list, Marko didn’t surprise her in the slightest, but Carl Denti, Paul Botham were just killers that were useful to Cyclops, there’s no telling what sort of control he expects to have with this squad, or why he decided to join the fight.  Surely the pay range for Marko, but these other two were entirely wild cards added into a bad situation and Rogue lingered with their names in her hands, half tempted to burn the entire file and return Botham to his federal prison cell at the very least.

            Death row inmates had no business in this business. 

            The thought crossed her mind:  but what business did she have in this business?  The Xavier mission was mishandled, though Fury calls it a success, evicting White Queen was another fumble on her part that she’d probably never live down.  She sighed; even running through her own mind, she couldn’t help it.

            Walking through the door at the top of a small stairway that separated the center aisle into two columns of seats, two of her squad strolled into the room.  “I guess we’re early?”

            Rogue put the file down and nodded to Bolt and Scanner.  The two had stopped trying to keep themselves hidden and accepted that everyone knew of their odd sort of friendship.  She forced a smile and waited to speak until they took a seat in the front row, “Have you seen the rest of the group?”

            “Jared’s stuffing his face, bullshitting with someone else he knew in Alpha Flight’s back up group.”

            Rogue raised an eyebrow as Sarah jabbed his ribs with her elbow, “He’s jealous that some other electric mutant took his place on Radius’ squad.”

            The girls break out in a refreshing laughter that Rogue particularly needed, tears are starting to form in her eyes before she can stop herself.  Bolt sits back and takes it all in stride, crossing his arms over his chest, nodding slightly.  “Yeah, yeah.”  Bolt smiles past the light laughing at his expense, “Laugh it up, sure, whatever.”

            Laughing all but stopped as the room started to fill with new and familiar faces.  None of the standard bright colored costumes from the X-Men, each person that walks in the room wear a uniform standard to the issued black and red S.H.I.E.L.D. colors for the re-built third division Mutant Division.  An almost welcome sight in Rogue’s eyes, though it was all so strange at the same time.

            The room slowly filled, nearly to the brim and it was a scary sight to see how many people had been reached or had already been on S.H.I.E.L.D.s extended payroll.  Favors had been pulled, new favors granted, police records erased, criminals released from prisons, all this work done behind the scenes in order to bring down a threat that was starting to take over countries that no one cared to think about.

            It’s been hell on Earth for the last few days, but it’s when he enters the room when the chatter ends.  Radius is directly behind him, his eyes on Rogue the moment he enters the room.  They both have their expectations on what this briefing is going to entail, but with Delta Squad nowhere in sight, it only confirms Rogue’s suspicions that Scott has no intent of claiming these men even have a part in this mission.  Cyclops marches down the stairs; all eyes fall on him as he walks past.  It’s the perfect show of force, not a soul will attempt to question his authority with his demeanor locked. 

            Radius locks the door behind them, “We’re set to begin ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re ready to get this show on the road.”

            The lights dimmed as his thumb toyed with the remote in Scott’s hand.  All eyes were directed to a white screen silently falling from its home on the ceiling, draped across the majority of the forward wall, the projector started almost immediately.  The first sequences of pictures are aerial and satellite images of the target area, but the laser pointer mounted inside Scott's remote points at a particular region in Ecuador.

            "Esmeraldas is a difficult area to gain access by foot, and likely whoever is running the show at X-Corps will be aware that we're coming for them."  Scott pauses to cycle through a number of photographs of the area, "The difficulty of this area necessitates an air drop and a relatively high altitude air drop to ensure us some semblance of surprise."

            At the back of the room, Scott is barely able to see a hand raise, "Question, Radius?"

            "Yeah, if they know we're coming, how do you expect us to have any amount of surprise?"

            "Trust me, it's been worked out."

            Switching from topographical maps to pictures gleamed from tourists photo albums.  "There's been a massive construction project and a rise in mutant population that are obviously foreign have been noted in the area for several months before the government of Ecuador simply decided to succeed it's authority to this island complex.  This is X-Corps staging ground and they are starting to amass a population of soldiers that is frightening to the border countries."

            Scott paused and Fury simply nods to him to continue, "Right, X-Factor will be the softening force before a larger force of S.H.I.E.L.D. troops launch into the area.  Our orders are to detain, subdue, or neutralize any hostility we see as viable.  And now I give the floor to Rogue."

            She pushes herself out of her chair and smoothes out the red and black uniform before taking her place in front of the massive projector screen.  "As most of you know, we’re breaking this group into smaller strike groups with our own objectives to complete.  Cyclops, Myself, and Radius will be leading each strike group, please stand as I read your name to receive your orders.”  She spoke with an informative tone, trying like hell to get through the boring details in order to break down into the specific goals of each team.  Reading off names and handing over orders that ensured that each man and woman would be paid for their efforts, or upon their deaths that the legal preparations have been made in order to take care of any loose ends left at home.

            It was hard to go through each name; she wasn’t accustomed to this sort of thing being so formal and so impersonal.  She liked to operate in small groups, where she knew and understood each of the members in her group.  She could use their strengths and weaknesses in order to meet their goals; she only met most of her group the day before they left the Azores.

            “Alright.”  Cyclops chimed in with his usual emotionless tone, “separate into your teams and further orders will be disseminated through the leadership channels.”

            “So, what are you going to be doing during this bullshit?”

            “Excuse me?”  Scott stopped and directed the eyes hidden behind a single thread of red that covered his eyes and most of the top of his face.  A heckler of sorts and a female to boot, a young woman barely out of her mid twenties if Scott were to guess sat with her arms crossed and staring at him.

            She continued to sit, but no less changed her expression.  “You recruited the bulk of us, S.H.I.E.L.D. has less than what I would call honorable standards at plucking us straight out of our lives and thrown some hideous costume to wear.  If I’m supposed to put my life on the line for the greater good of this Military-Industrial Complex Conspiracy, what the hell are you going to be doing?”

            “I’m leading Delta squad.”

            They were only words that left Scott’s mouth as he turned and started walking out of the auditorium.  “Who the hell is Delta Squad!”

            “D is for Delta, as in Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

            She gave up when a finger reached to Rogue’s lips, she respected the woman enough to abide by it just this once.  Everyone in the room watched as Scott Summers left the room without a single glace to his rear, and just as the young woman finished her glare it was apparent to Rogue how little regard Scott had for this mission and the people he’s gathered.

            “It’s a dark enough day, you don’t want to stir him up,” she said to the young woman refusing from moving in her seat.  “This is mostly his plan, but he has the most dangerous job of them all.”

            “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

            The woman was less than impressed with Rogue’s half-assed explanation, but the former X-Man finished her statement anyway.  “Opening salvo.  Delta is part of the phonetic alphabet, the military uses it a lot to organize things.  In Scott’s mind, D is for Distraction.”

<hr>

            It’s less than two hours to execution, 1232 hours GMT and the execution hour to be at 1400.  Scott tests the weight of his body armor against what he’s used to wearing.  He isn't sure he particularly likes the movement restraint; however, he is much fonder of leaving Ecuador intact.

            He steps across the flight line as the pilots start moving through their pre-flight checks, propellers burn diesel fuel and the scent assaults his sinuses and burns his eyes.  The Jet-assisted C-130J had its ramp down and Cyclops checked the tail number to make sure he had it right, and the only face that bothered to make an effort to look his way was the familiar red-stubble mug of Cain Marko.

            “Pretty dark for you Summers, I didn’t think you had the guts.”

            “You know exactly dick Marko, shut up.”

            Juggernaut smiled, almost laughing aloud at the change in Cyclops’ voice.  “I thought all of Chucky’s little people were the pacifist type.”

            “And all the times that we fought you, you never thought to change your logic?”

            That time nothing stopped Juggernaut from bursting out in laughter, “C’mon Summers, what’s the plan.”

            “We’re the initial phase, make it back alive and we’ll talk about those Federal charges that litter all your records.”

            Two of the others refused to speak to one another and Cyclops watched as Carl Denti toyed with a staff he brought along, “Yeah, it’s been a while, but I knew you X-Freaks would need to be roped in at some point.”

            “Murder isn’t the game here people.  We’re just buying time for the rest of the force to land safe and then we search and destroy the heart of the operation.”

            Paul Botham smiled and even Juggernaut was unnerved by the enjoyment he seemed to be taking in.  “I know you’re desperate Summers, but he’s a serial killer for god’s sake.”

            “Since when have you believed in God, Marko?”

            Warpath remains silent as Cyclops takes a seat next to him.  The two men barely share a glance to one another and the engines start to warm up.  The propellers roared and a Crew Chief signaled to Cyclops to strap into a seat.  The jet-assists start to drown out the sound of all four engines Marko smiles, “The only way to travel!”