Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents...

# 2- "EXTRAORDINARY PEOPLE"
Written by Anthony Crute

Doc Samson sat on a metal folding chair facing the cell which contained the villain and mass murderer known as The Purple Man. He was here in line with his new job as head psychologist at The Vault prison. He had no sooner arrived and introduced himself that The Purple Man began to speak.

“We shall begin with 1997, a particularly good year for myself,” The Purple Man cut in. “You should be prepared to take lots of notes.”

Samson watched Killgrave’s face carefully. It betrayed no hint of a smile or a discomforting gesture at being placed before the psychologist. His eyes stared directly at Samson but also seemed to be looking through him. When the purple skinned man began to talk it was obvious this was because he was casting his mind back. “On January the third I ordered a limo driver to drive me around town, I met two beautiful women and they ‘decided’ to join me…oh, the fun we had. The limo driver drove them all into the docks when he was done.”

Samson scribbled it down. There were numerous cases which the police and government suspected Killgrave to be involved with but had no evidence. Anything Samson could provide would help greatly. A side note of a case to look at next to his psychological evaluation would not hurt.

40 minutes later…

“I made her bite her own tongue off...Her brother and I had sex with her dead…”

“I think that’s enough for today, Zebediah.” Samson stopped Purple Man in his tracks. He talked non-stop about the things he had made people do for nearly an hour. His stomach had turned more times than a washing machine, yet he hadn’t shown it at all. He was stoic and calm as he stared at the sick and twisted Purple Man. “You mentioned earlier about your first kill as The Purple Man. Was it enjoyable?”

Killgrave smiled as the memory trickled through his mind. “It was glorious…so simple. ‘Slit your own throat.’” Even with the dampeners on his voice was commanding.

“What about before? You grew up in Croatia, joined the army and then worked as a spy. Surely you killed someone in all that time? Did you find those experiences enjoyable?”

Purple Man grimaced. “No,” he shook his head. His face seemed to indicate that he had a bad taste in his mouth. “I used guns mostly. Aim, flex your finger…it’s pitiful. A gun is man’s most abhorrent invention. No matter how much they evolve all they do is find a quicker and more accurate way of pushing a piece of metal through the air. No room for growth.”

“You talked about when.” Samson paused for a second and flicked through the notes he’d been taking. “June 12th, 1998, you forced a man to ‘blow his own brains out’. He used a gun. What’s so different?”

“It just is. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Help me to understand. Do you enjoy the killing or is it the order to kill?”

Purple Man stared at Samson. He was now looking solely at the green haired psychologist, he didn’t stare through him. He was solid for the first time since he walked into the room. Someone worth noticing. “I wouldn’t say it’s the order.”

“Rather the obeying? Is that why you don’t like to talk about your time before you became the Purple Man?” Samson was forging forward with the questions. He preferred to sit back and let the patient open to him but he could see that was not happening with Purple Man. He was most definitely talking and telling him things but they were just facts and surface thoughts. He wasn’t opening up, just bragging.

Purple Man stared. He gave no indication that what Samson was saying was correct. “Would you mind if we talked a little about your life before hand?”

“In 1999 I killed twenty people. Eleven of which was as the clock ticked down to the year 2000.Wouldn’t you rather hear about that? The police don’t know it was me.”

“That portion of the session is over for the day. I’m not your biographer, I’m your psychotherapist.”

“What makes you think I need psychotherapy? I’ve been given the power to get exactly what I want. Everything I want. No one…no one! On earth has ever had this ability. What makes you think others…you wouldn’t do the exact same thing? What makes you think that I’m not perfectly sane.”

Samson nodded. What he was saying was true. If you looked at people who went from having nothing to having everything, such as celebrities, they would explode. They do things which seem insane to normal people and it’s because of the fact they seem to be able to do anything. “There are two things. First of all your daughter. ‘Persuasion’ has your powers and uses them to help people. She doesn’t get everything she wants. She works for things rather than demands them…she’s not in prison.”

Killgrave grimaced. He had no retort for the point. He did not like to lose control of the conversation.

“The second point is humans aren’t designed to get everything we want. We are meant to struggle and work for everything. It’s the way our brains work. A large percentage of healthy adults die shortly after retirement when they have nothing to work for. Forty-eight percent of lottery winners were happier before their win…look at all the celebrity breakdowns. Now having the power to get anything and everything must be hard on you.” Samson couldn’t believe he was trying to spin Purple Man into the mould of a victim.

The Purple Man was silent. He still wasn’t opening up any more. If anything since Samson had confronted him with the last thing he had retreated more inside of himself. “Growing up in Yugoslavia…which is now Croatia?” Purple Man nodded. “It must have been very hard. It was a war torn country split along so many ethnic and social lines. The curfews and the rationing, being bossed about by soldiers. For someone who obviously enjoys power so much enlisting in the army seems an odd choice. They’re very strict on you following their orders.”

“There are very few ways of gaining power from poverty. I had to follow orders but I gave them to the civilians. Any power is better than being powerless, being powerless is being nothing.”

“So when you got your powers, when you gained these abilities you started to use them and abuse them. Half of the things you think up now are simply because you can? You get little enjoyment from the act but immense amounts from them obeying you as you give the orders.”

Purple Man laughed gently. He had never been figured out by someone so well. It crystallized everything about himself in his mind. The other psychologists in the past had categorized him as a psychopath or a sociopath and in truth he was. He liked the power and control and didn’t mind hurting people at all but it was not the death or the torture he enjoyed but rather the control. He did not use his powers as a means to an end but in fact their very use was the end he aimed for. “I’ve had enough for the day,” yawned Purple Man. The side of him which Samson had just seen was brushed away as his cover of being cold and calculating was reasserted.

He moved to his bunk and lay down with his back towards Samson. Samson tried to talk to him for a few minutes but Purple Man didn’t even bother to reply. “I’ll see you in a week,” said Samson as he stood up and walked away from the cell.

An hour later…

Doc Samson flicked through the stations on his car radio looking for the weather report. The grey clouds rolling through the sky above him did not look good. He was talking into his Dictaphone as he went, recording thoughts on his cases.

He had one more call to make before he would head back to his office and upload the information from his recording devices and the notes he had taken on paper into his computer and filing system for him to look over later.

He sighed and ran his thick tree trunk fingers through his long green hair and then moved down to loosen his tie. He had had a mixed day. His therapy sessions with The Vulture and Purple Man could have gone better. He, in both cases, had managed to shed some light onto a reason for their behaviour (though he knew it was likely there would be many more). He had not been able to even begin to curb their tendencies and both had shut him out completely so he would basically have to start from scratch (if not further back) during their next session. Slither on the other hand had been a wonderful success…for the moment. He had gotten to the route of the problem and created a system of control but it was only a short term solution. Eventually Slither would be uncontrollable.

It was hard for Samson. He had never been any good at separating himself from his job and creating a buffer as most psychologists and doctors must. He was excellent at putting on the calm and stoic façade. The things which Purple Man had told him however would keep him up tonight. He knew the thoughts of what he could do should any of the villains he treats get out and what they would do would keep him worrying all night. He wished there was another way, he wished he could effect real change in the behaviour of these super criminals but giving real change can take years of regular meetings. That however was impossible with the lifestyles they led.

His last client whose house he was pulling up to however was different. He had known his patient for about six years now and had watched him change and grow as a person. Doc Samson liked to think that he in some ways helped to shape him.

He was not actually his psychologist but had rather been hired as a mentor for the ‘precocious young scamp’. The people in charge of the project had decided that given his abilities and skills as a psychologist plus his strong character and relatable qualities Samson was the perfect mentor.

The house was a two story affair. White picket fence and front and back gardens both covered with green lawn grass. It had been bought and paid for by SHIELD as the perfect hiding place whilst still being able to fit in with the suggestions by Samson for the well being of his patient.

Samson pulled onto the drive and exited his car. He left his notes and briefcase in the car and with a flick of his wrist tossed his tie and jacket onto the back-seat. He rolled up his shirt sleeves to reveal his bulging muscles under it and undid the few top buttons to reveal his red T-shirt below.

He was about to go and knock on the front door when he saw the form of his patient peer from around the back of the house. He was in the back garden; it was unusual, to say the least.

“Amadeus?” questioned Samson as he walked along the wall past the window to the kitchen and into the back garden. Amadeus Cho sat on a lawn chair leaning over a table as he tinkered with something with a screwdriver.

“Hey, Doc.” Cho didn’t look up. “Just working on the gravity null projector. Mom’s thrown me out while she tidies my workshop…I’ve tried to tell her it’s supposed to be like that but she just won’t listen. Do you think I should have SHIELD come down and have a word with her?”

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” Samson pulled out the chair opposite and sat down across from Amadeus.

“Yeah, if I get my mom arrested you’d probably jump in and accuse me of having an Oedipal complex or something…though that would be a reverse Oedipal complex.”

“Why don’t you stop work for a few minutes and talk to me. I was just coming through and thought I’d drop in.”

“Been to the Vault? I know we’re on the way to your office from the Vault.” Amadeus didn’t stop his work and he didn’t look up.

“Yes, it’s been a trying day so I thought I’d come and see my favourite boy genius. You know how seeing the eighth smartest human on the planet brightens my day.”

“Seventh. I refined the test procedure…I’m the seventh smartest.” Amadeus spoke with no hint of pride in his voice. It was simply a fact to him.

“I still find it astounding you can make such claims. There are several forms…”

“Yes, yes there are several forms like music and art as well as science, but I’m talking real intellect. Biology. Chemistry. Physics.” Amadeus looked up now at Samson.

“You seeing if I’m upset that you didn’t mention psychology? I’m not, trust me, I know some of the other seven smartest people on the planet but they need social skills…something I have in abundance.” He laughed gently, Amadeus didn’t seem to share the joke.

“I would have included it but it’s not a real science. You use some scientific methods but there are no answers. Social psychology, biological, cognitive…they all give different answers for the same problems and all show support. There can only be one answer.”

Samson’s hand moved across the table and pulled the device Amadeus was working on away from him. “Take a break,” he ordered. Amadeus flicked his eyes from the machine to Samson.

“I have to get it finished. I’ve got the head of the department breathing down my neck…You can’t imagine the stress I’m under. You know what stress can do, Johnsson 1987 shows how…”

“You’ve been reading up on psychology?” Samson raised his eyebrow and gently rubbed his chin. “I thought it held no interest for you.”

“I just read a few books. Thought I’d give it a shot. How does it make you feel that I may take an interest in what you do like you do in my work?” Amadeus sat back in his chair.

“This isn’t going to work, y’know? I couldn’t care less if you want to pay attention or not. I also have no interest in your work…I do however have an interest in you.”

“That should have worked,” Amadeus sat forward. “I did everything, flattered you, asked open questions…See? Psychology is stupid.”

“It didn’t work because the knowledge isn’t enough. It took years of practice for me to perfect the skills needed. It’s not like science when it’s exactly the same for everyone. So have you been reading up on psychology for this stupid little game?” Samson sat forward. Amadeus reclined into the chair away from the Doc. “Or is it because you couldn’t stand for me to know more about something than you? You’ve always been the smartest, did meeting someone who knew more about something than you…something you couldn’t grasp, make you want to learn more than me?”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Everyone else just has to try their hardest and do their best but I have to be the best. It’s everything I am…I’m the best. That’s why SHIELD gave us this house, why they pay me…why they hired you to mentor me and keep me sane under all the stress.”

“Cut the crap, Amadeus!” Samson’s voice was raised. He pushed his hand down on the table, crushing the projector he had been working on. Amadeus just stared at the broken contraption. “You could build one of these in an afternoon, you can spend an hour a day working and more than keep up with the workload your bosses at SHIELD give you. I know, I vet the programmes they have for you.”“That’s not true, I…”

“You saw me going to crush this…why didn’t you yell out? When it was done, why didn’t you seem to care? It’s nothing to you. All of this is a stupid game to you to show you’re smarter than me. I saw you peer around the corner, I saw you watching for me and all the little cues your body language was giving off when you were trying to ‘concentrate.’”

Amadeus shifted uncomfortably. He folded his arms and turned his body ever so slightly away. He probably didn’t even realise he was doing it but it was an unconscious reaction.

“All of this is just to prove you’re smarter than me. Guess what? You are. You can grasp concepts I never will. It would take me the rest of my life to study science to the level you have now and that’s if I ever made it. Psychology isn’t all about science and facts. You need interaction, practice…you need to live a life before you can look at another’s. You’ve spent most of your life in labs and with your head in books, not out there.” Samson motioned to the garden and the surrounding houses. “Why do you think I advised they based you here instead of a science installation?”

Amadeus shrugged. “So what now? You going to quit like my other mentors?”

“I’m going to call SHIELD.” Samson stood up and reached in his pocket for his cell and walked away from Amadeus. He began to speak just as he got out of ear shot of the boy.

He returned exactly three minutes later by his count. “SHIELD will be by in an hour to confiscate your equipment and work.” Samson sat down as he spoke.

“WHAT?!” Amadeus stood up instantly as he yelled making the two look like they were on some odd see-saw. “You can’t take my work away! I can’t believe SHIELD is even allowing this.”

“Let me finish…” Samson held up his hand to silence the boy. “You’re bored and it’s understandable. Everything you’re doing for SHIELD is too simple for you.”

“So give me something challenging!” Amadeus yelled. He still couldn’t understand why they were taking his equipment. Samson’s hand rose again to silence the boy.

“I am.” He smiled. “I have SHIELD’s upper most clearance in relation to your well being and what I say goes. They’re enrolling you now in the local high school for a period of six months. You will in that time undertake no extra assignments from SHIELD. Once the six months are over we’ll review.”

“High school?” Amadeus was almost lost for words. “Top level science experiments aren’t challenging enough but high school is? Can we get a second opinion here, Doc?”

“You’re going to school for the social interaction not the work. Have you ever played soccer? Been to a dance? Asked a girl out?” Amadeus sat down and he shook his head.

“All of these things are part of life, six months of high school and I think you’ll be ready to psychoanalyse with the best of them…even if you never think about psychology again you might learn something. We both know you’re the seventh smartest person in the world but for the next six months you’re about to find out that it may not be the best thing in the world for you. Wolves in the wild smell fear and the wolves in high school smell brains. I want you to put that brain of yours to the test, a real challenge for you. Be average, be like everyone else, be normal…Six months down the line you can go back to being your exceptional self.”

Amadeus stared for awhile at the smiling face of Samson who was smiling at the young lad. “I don’t know how to be normal.”

Samson’s gentle smile burst into a huge grin. This had been the first time he had ever gotten Amadeus to admit he didn’t know something. Like he had explained to Purple Man earlier in the day, people need sometimes not to get everything their own way…not to be perfect, not to be the smartest. “First thing you need to know is bathrooms.”

“Bathrooms?” questioned Amadeus.

“If there is a urinal free then never use the cubicle…it looks weird. Never use a urinal if there’s someone at the next one. If there’s no one at a urinal always use the one furthest from the door.”

“You’re kidding, right? What does that have to do with anything important?”

Samson smiled at sat back. “Try breaking the rules, see how people look at you. Second rule…never eat the mystery meat!”

A little while later, the offices of Doctor Leonard Samson…

The offices Samson had taken over a few years earlier from a law firm were in a three storey brownstone in an up and coming sector of the city. The floor below him belonged to a security firm and the one below that a dance studio. The entire west side of the building looked out over a small portion of the park.

He and Amadeus had talked as he ran over the basic survival guide to high school until SHIELD arrived and Amadeus had to show them how to safely transport several of his machines. All the way back to his office he had wondered if high school had changed much and how prepared Amadeus was. He thought he’d do fine.

Leonard opened the door at the bottom of his building. He swung it open and could already hear the gentle twinkling of the music which accompanied the youth ballet class.

He hummed along gently as he climbed the dark brown stairs to the side of the entrance to the studio. They led him first past the security firm’s offices. Their frosted glass door looked like a detective’s from an old black and white noir film. He continued up the stairs.

The stairs led directly into the wide hall to his offices which doubled as a waiting room. It was lined with some green leather chairs where people could sit and wait either for their appointment to start or for whomever they were picking up or dropping off. A large coffee table sat in the centre and magazines were spread out next to the small coffee machine. The walls were decorated with photographs of Samson meeting some of the world’s best superheroes.

He reached into his pocket and fished for his keys. He pulled them from his pocket with a jingle and pushed them into the lock of his door and with a turn of the key opened…

BOOOOOOM!!!!

The street outside was covered in pieces of broken glass and wood as the interior of Doctor Samson’s office exploded outwards to the street below. The flames from the explosion licked the top of the building as the thick black smoke billowed out.

To Be Continued…