"The ratings are down, Mojo," came from an Asian man. He holding a black binder that contained charts and statistics for the Genoshan network, that Mojo’s realtiy mutant arena show aired on. "Saka-san, you worry too much," was the reply, that was made sickly from fatty jowls, "I have the perfect thing for those peons at home watching, my assistant is just putting the finishing touches on our pitch." Saka-San was a network executive in charge of meeting with all the television shows to help them build a budget according to what the board felt appropriate. Mojo sat back with a sigh of leather beneath his obese body. He rested in a custom built office chair; one with no arm rests so he would not feel the pressure of them holding him in. The room was almost glitzy, except for the lights; Mojo kept the room dimly lit because of his sensitivity. On the walls hung matted and framed stills from past shows, there were mutants and gladiators shot like cast photos and action shots of them battling in the arena. A large portrait of the current season’s star hung in isolation, in perverse homage, a pallid art light cast a soft aura around the frame.. It was a picture of a blonde boy, who had been seen in all the video clips that were circulating the internet. There was a small gold tag with the inscription "Longshot -- Season 2".
Mojo's assistant entered the room with a CD case in his hands. "Finally!" Mojo bellowed again blubbery cheeks dampened his words, "Put it in." The assistant did as he was instructed putting the disc into a computer that was set up off to the side; a projection screen slowly lowered. An image was brought into focus as Mojo narrated "Let me introduce to you, Saka-San, The Brootherhood of Evil Mutants," the image flipped "Eric Lensherr, Magneto, their leader, master of Magnetism." The room darkened as the image changed "Raven Darkholme, Mystique, metamorphe, terrorist and political activist. St. John Allerdyce, Pyro, pyro-kinetics, terrorist," the image flipped to a photo of John terrorizing a crowd of people at the F.O.H rally, flames shooting out from him. The image flipped to a again, “Rogue, terrorist, former affiliation X-Men. She can't touch someone without absorbing their memories or skills. Powers, in cases of other mutants. She has no other aliases and no record...” Again the imaged flashed, “Remy LeBeau aka Gambit. Refugee from hurricane Katrina. Affiliations: Theives Guild. Currently a member of Magneto’s Brotherhood. Demolitions expert.” He glanced down at his notes and rattled off Gambit’s Powers. "Frederick J Dukes, Blob and Mortimer Toynbee, Toad currently incarcerated in Rikers penitentiary for mutants."
With a clap of his fatty hands Mojo sat back into his chair. “On the other hand we have the X-Men, lead by one of the great visionaries of our time, Charles Xavier.” The picture lingered on the Professor for a time before flipping over to Cyclops. “Scott Summers…”
Mojo was interrupted. “I get it, Mojo-san, what’s your point?” Saka was irritated by the fat man’s long windedness.
A chuckle rolled over his fatty larynx. “It’s common knowledge that the Brotherhood and the X-Men are mortal enemies. I say the world needs to know which group have the right to call themselves homo-superior." The network executive shifted in his seat as Mojo finally stood. "Do you know what I'm planning, Saka-San? Ever since the beginning of time man has been obsessed with destroying other man. I'm talking a gladiator style competition. X-Men and The Brotherhood: survival of the fittest. Let the arena decide!” He said, emphasizing his words with a pound of his fist.
"Mojo, these are all United States Citizens," the larger man lifted a hand to silence Saka-San, "I assure you this is entirely legit." A paper was slid across the table, "it came in last week from the Unite States, secretary of defense. They want to utilize our services, discretely, however if you notice in the second paragraph 'by any means necessary'.”
Saka-san lifted his eye glasses and brought the paper close to his face. "Do what you need to do, Mojo." He nodded and turned to the image of Rogue holding onto a police officer's forearm, the skin beneath her hand wrinkling.
"Excellent, Saka-San, lets get lunch and talk about what kind of check the network is willing to write me."