The Toughest Cuts of Beef Taste the Best

The leader of America stared at his first in line for a few seconds, then looked away.

He knew the man was right. He had ignored Russell from the start. In fact, the entire U.S. Government had ignored Russell, and Russell had now slapped him in the face with his actions.

But the vice president could surrender. As president, he could not.

From his first day in politics, surrender had been etched under "Absolutely Never," alongside "treason," "collusion with the enemy," and "betraying allies."

Surrender would end his political career. It was worse than detonating a nuclear weapon in New York. His name would be written into the pages of history reserved for disgrace.

It also meant everything he had done in office would be overshadowed by this surrender. He would become the first president in American history to be beaten into submission.

"Are you really not going to surrender?" the vice president asked again.

The president pushed back his chair and stood. His knees were shaking, but he held his back straight.

"I'm tired. Let it all burn."

He brushed away the hand a Secret Service agent extended toward him. His voice carried the exhaustion of a man who had reached the end of the road.

"If he wants to rule, let him. It's not as if our country will be the only one to suffer. Mutants are the enemies of all humanity."

He paused, stared at the frozen image on the screen, and swore. "Fuck mutants. What does biology have to say about this? A carbon-based life-form can survive a nuclear bomb? Motherfucker."

That last word reminded the president of the bald Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Perhaps he should contact him again. His god-slaying plan might be their only chance to defeat Russell.

Manhattan, outside the Four Seasons Hotel.