Marvel 2000 Proudly Presents...

# 3- "ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE"
Written by Anthony Crute

Doctor Leonard Samson was a cultured and educated man.He liked many of the finer things in life like a well cooked gourmet meal or a fine symphony when he was in the mood but in many ways he was a simple man with simple tastes. He could also tend to be a man with simple reactions.

When he returns to his office only to find it rigged with some sort of explosion, which sets him on fire and blows him through a wall and clear out of the building into the street, his reaction is quite understandably anger.

Samson stood up from where he lay in the street. He pushed himself from the crumpled car which he had landed on bending the metal even more with his huge fists. He grabbed the remaining pieces of cloth from his shirt which lay across his body and pulled it clear in one motion. He cast a quick glance at his huge muscular chest where there were some scorch marks but he seemed unharmed.

Thank God for Gamma radiation, he thought to himself.

His eyes were already surveying the damage that had been done to his life. Flames licked the top of the windowsills from his third floor office. The brownstone around the window was already scorched black. The billowing black cloud of smoke was sweeping dramatically to the sky.

“HELP!!!” Samson recognised the voice despite its alarmed tone and over the roaring of the fire. It was the voice of Madame DeBoville, the portly red head who ran the dancing academy two floors beneath his office. His eyes moved to the large lightly frosted windows of her studio. He couldn’t see clearly but he could make out her large orange beehive hairdo and the shapes of several of the children at the studio.

He wasted no time as he sprinted across the street. There were no cars to dodge thanks to those who had screeched to a stop on seeing a flaming superhero exploding out of a building. He covered his face as he leapt through the glass window.

The children inside screamed and ran away as he exploded through, sending tiny fragments of glass shattering across the dance hall floor. “Samson!” cried Madame DeBoville. “Quickly girls, leave your things and stay together!” she commanded the girls.

“Is everyone okay?” Samson checked the room briefly from where he stood, he couldn’t see anyone else it seemed all of the girls had left the building safely.

“Were fine but we couldn’t get out. Whatever happened upstairs demolished the stairs and they’re blocking the door. I don’t know how Mr. Lennox will get out.”

“See to yourself and keep your girls safe,” Leonard said, nodding. His hand was pressed onto her back as he guided her from the wreckage of the building and onto the street. There was a large crowd gathering now on the other side of the street. A line of girls in ballet uniforms formed the front line. Samson could hear the sirens of police, fire engines and ambulances heading his way thanks to someone who had seen the explosion.

Samson turned his back to the crowd. He tilted his head up and glanced up at the next floor. He bent his knees and then quickly straightened them as he leapt into the air.

Doc Samson had many things in common with the man who helped create him (as he had helped create the man…he’d spent a while trying to get his mind around the psychology involved in that one), The Hulk. A prestigious leaping ability was just one of such things. He kicked out his legs and thrust his hands forward crushing concrete with both blows, meaning he was able to create his own hand and foot holes to cling to.

Relaxing his arms and bending his legs gave him a clear view into the office of Jack Lennox. It was a medium sized security firm that ran private security for a couple of banks and a number of stores and supermarkets.

Lennox himself was ex-army. He was a big guy. “Not as big as you huh?” he had said when he first met Samson. He was currently pinned under the smashed remnants of his desk. A large portion of flaming debris from the floor above had collapsed down. In the corner was a young intern he’d taken in recently. He’d been in the building for such a short time that Leonard, who often took an active interest in people, had not managed to catch the man’s name.

Leonard tossed himself through the window with no trouble. He shielded his mouth with the back of his arm and wished for a second he’d kept hold of his ragged shirt. He was super strong and had a much lower vulnerability level than a normal man but smoke inhalation would take him down just as quick as anyone else. “Is there anyone else here?” Samson looked to the teenager in the corner whilst he set about shifting the debris from on top of Lennox.

“No, everyone’s gone home; there’s just the two of us,” he coughed violently for a second.

“Relax I’m going to get you out.” Samson turned his attention back to Lennox. He grabbed hold of the desk as he tried to avoid the flaming wreckage from above which littered the room. The flames licked up against him, the pain tore through his arms. The weight of the debris itself was not much to him and so it shifted relatively easily. When the debris shifted it clunked to the floor loudly. There was a loud creaking from above followed by another piece of flaming debris which bounced loudly against a supporting joist causing the whole room to shake.

Samson hoisted Lennox onto his shoulder easily. He knew moving an injured man could be dangerous but in the current situation it was much more dangerous to leave him.

“Take my hand.” Samson stretched out his long muscular arm through the smoke and the fire to the boy. He looked up as the ceiling creaked again; there was nothing above him but fire.

“I can’t…the fire.” The kid was obviously scared. Terror in such a life threatening situation was to be expected. It was important in times of high stress and crisis situations such as this to try and keep people calm. The survival instincts in the brain are going crazy as it’s telling you to run but another is trying to keep away from the fire. What’s needed is an overriding voice to guide them and this most usually appeals to their higher consciousness with calming reason.

“TAKE MY HAND NOW!” screamed Samson. There were exceptions to the rule however and an intimidating factor worked nicely. It was a technique often used in the army. Drill it into them with constant commands and yelling for what seem like simple things during training and then when you’re out in the field no matter how terrified they are they will respond to the orders of a commanding officer. He felt the kid’s grip around his hand a second later. He returned the grip and burst into a short sprint before leaping clear.

There was a scream from the crowd as Samson exploded from the second floor. He landed near the opposite curb and took the shock of the impact as he landed so his ‘passengers’ wouldn’t have to.

The screaming sirens that hurtled around the corner let him know that the backup had arrived.

An Hour later…

“Alright what’s going on here?” Stacy Dolan tossed the cigarette she was smoking on the floor and gently rubbed it out with her foot. She scratched her arm gently in the location of her nicotine patch. She was trying to give them up but the fact was she had an addictive personality. She had however managed to get it down to one in the morning, lunch and after her evening meal, she also allowed herself one when starting a new case. New cases were also an addiction, and old cases…in short she was a workaholic.

Stacy was a detective in the Post Human division of the NYPD. It was by far the quickest growing department in the city if not the country. Stacy herself had been responsible for several high profile cases involving super human individuals.

Her brown hair was tied roughly behind her head and was in a terrible state. She’d spent the night with her on again/off again late night call Detective Jason Mallory. Mallory was a sometimes bed partner and an all of the time asshole. It twisted in her stomach that she’d spent yet another night with him. He was attractive and when they were together and not talking it was great but as soon as he opened his mouth she just needed to get out of his presence or punch him.

This fight or flight response usually reserved for cornered animals was the reason Stacy was currently wearing the previous day’s modestly crumpled clothes, had greasy hair and was lacking even her usual minimum amount of makeup. Mallory had slapped her ass and she just had to get out of his company regardless of what she looked like.

The man who answered her question was a uniform detective. He was a young blonde good looking guy who obviously had stuck to the NYPD fitness regime, he had abs you could bounce a quarter off and they could be seen clearly through his uniform. Stacy panned her eyes back up to his face. He blushed slightly as he seemed to notice getting checked out by his superior. “Explosion,” he said as he jerked his thumb up at the burnt out building which was still smoking.

Stacy flicked her eyes to the building and back. “I noticed that little detail, a member of the post human division was called because?” The young cop was obviously a rookie.

“Oh! It’s the office of Doc Samson…y’know, big green-haired guy.” The uniform mimed the height of Samson with his hand.

Dolan nodded, she’d never met him but had read one or two of his reports on criminals she’d ran into. She’d even seen him giving expert testimony at a case…or at least been in the same room with him and heard his voice. Her entire attention at the time was focused on staring at the cyborg freak whom she’d tracked down and arrested for the murder and mutilation of his ex-girlfriend. She’d of course taken a dislike to him but it was nothing personal; she hated all psychologists on principle.

“We’ve taken statements from the eye-witnesses and the Doc’s over there. He said you might want to talk to him. He’s a real nice guy, not like a lot of other celebs. Gave me his autograph and we chatted.” the guy motioned to the back of the ambulance where Dolan could see a wave of green hair. He stopped talking as she glared at him. There are many women who have the stereotypical ‘come to bed’ eyes down pat. Stacy was one of them but she also had the much rarer talent of ‘go to bed!’ eyes. The uniform looked anxious and then walked away as Stacy strode past him.

She rubbed both of her hands across her face. She couldn’t believe she’d stared at the guy’s abs. It seemed recently that the cigarettes and alcohol she’d given up had been replaced by yet another vice, sex addiction.

You’re a jackass! she told herself before mentally swearing. That’s it, you’ve had enough, hit the showers you’re off men from now on. You’re not even going to find any attractive anymore!

“Yo, Doc Samson?” She’d lost sight of the green hair and so shouting for him seemed to be the reasonable thing to do…obviously not influenced by her mood in the slightest.

“That’s me.” The huge form of Doc Samson lifted up from his one knee where he’d bent to sign another autograph for one of the little girls from the ballet class who had yet to be picked up. He’d been keeping her company and talking about Dora the Explorer.

Stacy stared. Samson’s chest was almost as large as her car. He made Arnie look like Pee Wee Herman. His long green hair lay across his shoulders and lined his muscular form perfectly. She’d also never noticed how tall he was, she’d seen photos but generally he was in the shot with The Hulk so he looked a lot smaller.

“Are you okay?” Samson asked. Stacy had been staring in silence for a few seconds. She swore at herself mentally.

“Detective Stacy Dolan, I understand it was your premises which were destroyed rather than you just happening by and getting involved?” It sounded like a dumb question to most but the majority of time if there was a superhuman witness he’d just happened by.

“Yes, I came back and opened the door. There must have been some sort of incendiary device triggered to the door.”

“Or a superhuman with explosive powers of some kind,” Dolan added off hand. Half of the time she wasn’t even aware she was doing so. She just now naturally gave superhuman possibilities to crimes.

Samson smiled gently; it wasn’t often he found someone, especially a police officer, who would think outside their normal parameters. “True,” he added with a nod.

“Do you have any enemies who might hold a grudge and be out to get you?” Dolan had taken out her note book and was prepped to write down some notes.

Samson sniggered and then hid it away when he noticed Dolan’s ‘go to bed!’ look. “Detective, I’m a superhero…much to my chagrin sometimes these days. We seem to attract enemies, probably something to do with being Type A personalities and drawing attention to ourselves. We become targets.”

“Anyone in particular? Anyone out of the usual rogues gallery recently? Arch-nemesis?” She hated using the stupid terms gleamed from her brother’s comic books in her youth but they were more recognisable than the official police codes for these relatively underused ideas.

Samson thought for a second. He ran through a list of his ‘rogues’ in his mind. Abomination, Leader, MODOK…Hulk. The Leader came close because of the technology but it was unlikely. Samson sighed as he thought how he obviously hadn’t been big enough a superhero to rub the criminals up the wrong way. He seemed to just get Bruce’s cast offs. He luckily didn’t mind as much as some other heroes because he’d put that life behind him, he had realised it was a stupid dream and got on with his other one of helping people through psychology rather than lifting heavy things. “I’m a psychologist. I work with half of the villains in rehabilitation or the penal system. I’ve likely rubbed a lot of them the wrong way.”

“Any recent escapees or relapses who would go to this level?”

“I was there today and nothing was mentioned. Their escape record is exemplary under the new regime,” Samson watched as Dolan scribbled something down. He wondered what it was for a second. He smiled as he caught himself, he suddenly understood what some of his patients may have felt like.

“Okay,” Dolan scribbled down that he wasn’t very helpful. Maybe he wasn’t such a squeaky clean hero as he appeared to be? Perhaps he knew something more and was impeding the investigation on purpose. “I understand you’ve had a traumatic day and so I’ll let you go home and have a shower and change your clothes and you can come down to the station tomorrow to run through anything else.”

Samson thought briefly about the rapid decline in memory traces following traumatic events and the detrimental effect of time on the accuracy of eye witness testimony but he kept it to himself. He knew how people hated him coming across so intellectual and having a bit of ‘know it all-ness’. He was however forced to interrupt.

“I was hoping, if it wasn’t too much trouble, could one of your officers give me a ride to a hotel. My apartment is being fumigated…cockroach invasion and I was bunking down with most of my possessions in the backroom of my office.” Samson’s hand pushed through his long flowing hair as he blushed. Dolan thought for a second and nodded. “Sorry you had another question?”

“Yes, did you notice anything strange when you returned to your…home?” Stacy did enjoy getting ‘one over’ on superheroes and psychologists so this was a red letter day for her.

“Other than the explosion?” Samson noted her tone. His sarcastic tone was intended. He did however worry if he’d came across sounding slightly dumb

“Yes, other than the explosion, a smell or a noise anything of that sort?” Dolan made a mental note that maybe you don’t have to be that bright to be a celebrated psychologist…she liked that idea. Samson thought for a second and shook his head. “Right, I’ll get your ride and I’ll see you in the morning down at the station. I’ve got a few more people to talk to here so I’ll see if I can rake anything else up to help the case.”

“Excuse me?” the voice was a thick gruff voice. Samson turned to the smaller (as most are) man behind him. He was a fireman, a middle aged man with a large moustache. One or two others stood behind him. “We found this in the building…damnedest thing is it was untouched. We’ve taken a sample for the police but we figured you’d want it.” The fireman held out a piece of cloth.

Samson took the cloth. He was a bit unsure of what was going on until it fell open in his loose grip. He smiled. “Reed, you genius,” he held up the red T-shirt which sported a small yellow thunderbolt in the centre made of unstable molecules. He stretched his arms above his head as he pulled the T-shirt down. Stacy quickly glanced at his body and swore at herself mentally again.

She turned and began to walk away. She’d gotten everything she needed. “Hey wait!” Samson cried after her making her stop. “I’d like to help, if someone is out to get me chances are they’ll make another attempt…it’s what super villains do. I’d rather be looking for them than wait for them to come after me and put others in harms way.”

Stacy rolled her eyes and was very careful to be finished before she turned around. “I appreciate the offer but we don’t need civilians traipsing through the investigation. You’re more likely to hinder us.”

Samson exhaled shortly. He’d hoped there was another way he could go about this but it seemed she didn’t want his help. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to deal myself in on this one. I’m an agent of SHIELD…I don’t have my card because of the explosion but I can get the relevant documents faxed over. I’m empowered to perform investigations into events which I believe could endanger the public and could use my expertise.” Samson thumbed to the building “I’d say this falls into that category.”

“Then start your investigation…and I’ll do mine.” Stacy was trying to keep her temper under control. She was a detective and he most certainly wasn’t. It didn’t help that he was a superhero. He was a psychologist which she didn’t like and now it turned out he was the sort of federal agent who buts into police investigations…that’s something she really didn’t like.

“I suggest you’d call your superior.” Samson really did hate doing this but it’s what he thought would be best. If someone was hurt because of a villain aiming for him that he could have stopped with a more active role he’d never forgive himself.

Stacy held up her finger and swore mentally again, this one almost reached her lips. Her hand moved for her phone and the bosses’ emergency line was dialled.

Samson watched as she talked on the phone and then moved out of hearing range and began to shout and swear into the phone. Samson smiled at her fire. He waited patiently as she came back over. “Looks like we’re partners for this one. I’m working on two possible leads. This is either an attack directed at you or an attack on superheroes…You’re ‘retired’ living publicly and wouldn’t be expecting it. You could just be the first target.” She motioned to the side and the two began walking.

Samson paused. He hadn’t thought that the attack could not have been about him. He felt a little embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to take the focus off of himself and think outside of the box at a larger picture. That’s what he was supposed to do. He guessed he hadn’t distanced himself from the characteristics of a superhero as he thought he did. “I did think they could be trying to cover something up, destroy my files rather than me.” He was trying to save some face.

“Possible but given the evidence it’s unlikely. If they were just trying to destroy your research or files and they’d already gained access to your office slash house what’s to stop them just destroying them instantly. Even if they didn’t know where the file was located the chances of their destructive plan acting out just as you turned the key are infinitesimally small.”

“I thought you were a superhero cop. Infinitesimally small probabilities occurring are something we deal with every day. Reed Richards took a space flight and it pretty much spelt the end for Occam’s Razor. Superhero Occam’s razor actually works in reverse. The most complex answer is probably right.” Samson smiled at several people as they crossed the street and waved. He was a public figure and if people were going to take an interest in him it was only right he was friendly back whenever possible.

“Screw Occam’s razor, this is cop physics. The simplest answer is most probably going to be the right one. Close family members are the prime suspects in cases for a reason. You the chief?” Dolan flashed her badge as she approached the man in the fire fighters uniform. He was an older man with grey hair poking out from under his helmet. His face was stained black with carbon. He nodded.

“Any leads?” Dolan looked at Samson and he shot her an embarrassed look back. They’d both realised he sounded like a tool who’d seen too many cop shows. He hadn’t meant it to sound like it had, he’d done this a hundred times before in his line of work and liaised with police in both his professional and super capacity but for some reason he was now aware he was sounding a little stupid.

“It’s getting late and too dark to search so were going to call it off and post guards until morning and look again. So far there’s not a damn thing. No unusual chemicals, mechanisms, bomb like devices. It’s as if the explosion just happened from no where…there doesn’t even seem to be enough fuel in the entire place for an explosion of that magnitude.” The chief shrugged, he’d been in the business for years and this was something new to him.

“You think it could have been superhuman in origin?” Dolan asked. The chief was an expert on fire in its various forms. If something there was another explanation or if this was an unnatural event he’d know.

The chief thought for a second. It seemed like many others he’d in some respects bound all the super humans together in attitude and was trying not to offend Samson with something he was about to say…usually what came next was either highly offensive or so mild Samson wouldn’t have even noticed it without the extra scrutiny of the person speaking. Samson could barely blame him, he’d studied the phenomenon and even experienced it himself back when he was a ‘normal’ man and had his first run in with the Hulk. It was more than normal for a person to be a little nervous around those who go beyond what is usually considered possible.

Samson was very aware that his eyes slipped unconsciously to Dolan. She seemed to have none of the usual characteristics normal humans gave off around super humans. The closest came probably anger which was often shown by those who felt threatened or jealous of the super humans but instead of anger it seemed to be only a mild annoyance. She had none of the usual moments as she checked wording of sentences in her head to avoid insults but still seemed to lack the look of awe or celebrity worship that most had. She seemed comfortable if not completely ambivalent to the presence of him despite his impossible stature.

“I wouldn’t like to say for definite without some more evidence.” The chief shrugged. Dolan continued to stare at him. It was obvious she’d wanted a more committed answer. “It could be. I don’t know all the rules. Conventional wisdom says there isn’t enough fuel for an explosion that size but I don’t know about no mutants or whatever, they might have their own fuel. I don’t know how hot they can burn either.”

Samson thought how most of the physical rules he’d ever studied had been broken by at least one super powered being he knew or had heard of. “Why’s the heat important?”

“Wood’s been scorched before the flames got to it. The burn pattern shows a high heat source but not flames. So you opened the door which triggers the heat…which was the explosion as the air got superheated and then the fire started as it all began to burn.”

Dolan’s eyes flicked up to Samson’s face. She was still toying with the idea that he knew more than he was letting on. He looked concerned…or was concentrating. She couldn’t tell which. It didn’t help that she was second guessing herself. This guy was a trained professional in body language, facial expressions and behaviour in general. She didn’t know how much he could hide or double bluff her.

“Thanks, we’ll be in touch in the morning to see if anything else turns up,” she said. The two shook the hand of the chief and turned to walk away. “Ring any bells? Any villains you can think of who can produce that amount of heat?”

“There’s a few. Crossed paths with one or two but can’t think of a reason to single me out or have a vendetta with me.” Samson shook his head.

“So we’re back to either a new player on the scene with a grudge…or trying to make a name for himself by taking you out, or the first of a set of attacks.” She nodded as if to confirm her own opinions. “Hey, Uniform!”

The uniformed cop who was on the other side of the street turned around. It was the same guy from earlier. Stacy swore to herself again.

“Do you have to talk to him like that?” Samson said. “He’s a cop the same as you.” Stacy shot Samson a look which told him to shut up. She could feel her mood getting worse as time continued.

“You took statements from everyone around, other buildings too?” The cop nodded, he seemed slightly nervous in Dolan’s presence noted Samson, Dolan did too…she liked it that way. “Anything out of the ordinary?” The cop shook his head. “What about that guy.” Dolan pointed off to the side of the crowd. An older gentleman in raggedy clothes sat with a small dog in the opening of an alley.

“No, I asked everyone who saw anything to make themselves known and he never came up. I can go ask him now.” The cop grabbed his pen and pad.

“Save your ink, Ace. I’ll handle it. Remember in the future that some bums don’t like cops much. You’re not going to get much voluntary help all the time.” She held up her hand and then waved it in dismissal.

“There really is no need to talk to him like that you know? He’s obviously new. You could take it easy on him.”

“It’s a right of passage. We treat him like crap and then anything he gets on the street looks mild. You spotted he was a rookie; how long do you think it’d take some two-bit thug with ideas above their station to spot it?” Stacy smiled to herself, she was glad with her answer. She’d been in this job for years; she’d gotten the same treatment herself. She knew when to lay it on and when to let up and she wasn’t going to let anyone but into how she did her work. It was what she hated about psychologists: always butting into others lives.

The two made their way over to the older man. He was obviously a tramp. The small dog was licking his hand and wagging it’s tail excitedly. Neither seemed to notice the two people standing over him. Dolan briefly wondered if perhaps the gentlemen, like many of the other homeless on the streets. was either not all there or was on drugs. Samson spoke. He bent his knees and stroked the little dog gently as he did so. “Excuse me, I’m Doc Samson…I worked across the street.”

The man panned his vision up. “Christ! You’re a big fella, aint ya? Remind me of me in my youth…used to box, y’know.” He made jabbing motions with his fists at the air in the direction of Samson.

“Sir, did you perhaps see anything odd this evening around six, before the explosion?” Dolan didn’t waste any time in cutting to the route of the matter and stepping all over the dialogue Samson had been trying to start. The old bum just stared at her.

“Pretty thing, aint she…just like my June. It was back in ‘79 she died.” Dolan coughed as if to draw his attention back to the situation at hand. “Oh…I might have.”

“Like?” Dolan’s temper was getting shorter. She’d been having a bad day in the first place and then she got teamed up with the green haired super shrink…who she couldn’t help being attracted to, which was what was bugging her most about the situation.

“Well, I’m finding it hard to remember.” He held out his hand. Samson looked up at Dolan expectantly.

“Not a chance in hell, we don’t do that kinda crap. You’ve watched too much TV.” She shook her head and sighed. Samson continued to stare.

“I would but most of everything I own just exploded so I’m a little strapped at the moment.”

He shrugged at the old guy and then looked back up to Dolan. She rolled her eyes and bent down to the same level as the two men. Her hand scratched the head of the dog which came to sniff her. Probably got fleas, she thought before wiping her hand.

“Okay, I haven’t got any cash on me but I can get you in a hostel for awhile. Safe, warm and you get meals.” She checked her watch. “You’ve missed it opening so it’s either help us out or a night on the street.”

The old man looked at Samson who shrugged at him. The old man smiled showing off his toothless grin. “It was about fifteen minutes before you got back,” he nodded to Samson, it appeared he’d seen everything. “There was a weird flashing from the top floor. Like a glowing light…y’know, like when a jellyfish pulses. That’s all I know.”

Dolan nodded. She opened her wallet and pulled out a card and handed it to him. “Take it to the mission on 12th and tell them I sent you. They’ll know you’re helping us with an ongoing investigation and put you up for a couple of nights.” She stood up and took a step away.

“Thank you,” Samson added and shook the man’s hand. He gave the dog another stroke and then stood up himself.

“Okay, I think that’s the best we’re going to get tonight, you can go…partner.” Her expression changed to half sneer and half smirk.

“Mind if I hitch a ride with you…partner.” Samson returned the barb with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile. It was childish and unprofessional but he did slightly enjoy rubbing this woman the wrong way.

Dolan shook her head and sighed. “It’s over here.” She pointed to where she’d parked her vehicle. In her mind she was queering her decision, this man was almost as annoying as Mallory and yet here she was going out of her way…damn sex addiction crippling her better judgement.

The two climbed into her car. Samson fidgeted for a few seconds with his knees up next to his face until he found the recline handle and pushed the chair right back. His knees were still abnormally high but not as much. Dolan started the engine and drove off.

The two were driving for about ten minutes in silence when Samson spoke up. He didn’t mind silence but the uncomfortable tension made him speak. It didn’t help that his natural instinct was to try and talk through problems. “So what’s your problem with me?”

“What? I don’t have a problem with you.” Dolan scowled across the car at him. She didn’t want a therapy session especially from him. She changed gear and took a right.

“Oh, okay.” He shook his head. “Okay, options…is it because I’m a superhero or because I’m a shrink? They’re the usual reasons.”

“I don’t have a problem with super humans…I work with them everyday.” Dolan defended herself, she hadn’t noticed she had ignored the psychologist part. Samson did.

“You arrest them ever day, makes sense if you didn’t like them to get involved in your line of work,” Samson shrugged. He wanted to appear like he hadn’t been thinking about it, like she hadn’t gotten to him in some way.

“I didn’t go looking for this job. I got a couple of cases which ended up involving mutants and then robots and so on. I ‘lucked’ into it. I don’t hate supers, same way normal cops don’t hate people…well most normal cops. I got this job because unlike a lot of cops out there I can think of the impossible as possible.”

“So it is the psychologist thing? Don’t worry I’m not trying to crack you.” He held his hands up.

“That’s exactly what you’re trying to do…get in my head. Butt out.” Dolan exhaled heavily as she finished her snap at him. There was a brief silence. “You want to know why I have a problem with you? It’s all of it. I don’t like psychologists who think they’re better than everyone else. I don’t like superheroes who get involved with police business and I don’t like feds. You’re all three.”

“I understand but you can’t deny the good superheroes do for the country. There are…”

“Don’t get me wrong. Kang turns up with a giant robot I want the Avengers to my rescue in seconds. Mole Man and a monster…I’m dialling the Fantastic Four myself. There are things you guys are suited for. Do you ever think how many sting operations or busts you guys screw up? When Spider-Man sticks a guy to a lamppost do you think he goes to prison or does the most inept public defender get him off? There’s no evidence. When big guys like you dish out your own justice by pounding away on guys, I think it’d be a great feeling but it’s not the way the justice system works. Now you’ve got involved in a case you’re not suited for, you don’t have the training and you’re too damn close to it but you can ring in favours and suddenly the rules don’t apply to you.”

There was silence in the car. Samson didn’t know what to say. He looked up from his twiddling thumbs after another minute or so of silence and glanced around. They were at a four way crossing. He was about to say something and apologise for getting involved in her job and explain himself when his eyes went wide.

The huge engine block of the 18 wheeler truck was already bearing down on him. Samson’s eyes caught a brief pulse of light like a jellyfish from the cab of the vehicle just as it smashed into the side of the door. He tossed himself to the side and used his body to cover Dolan’s form as the car crumpled around him.

I guess they are after me, Samson thought.

To Be Continued…