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# 6- "The Incredible Shrinking Doc!"
Written by Anthony Crute

Doctor Leonard Samson sat at his new expansive desk typing at his computer. He looked at the paragraph he had just typed detailing his first meeting with superhero culture when he approached the military with a possible way to destroy the Hulk while keeping Bruce Banner alive.

“I formed my hypothesis based on the psychometric approach championed by Sigmund Freud. He followed a theory revolving around the conservation of Energy that it can neither be created or destroyed merely changed.
Anyone who looked at the Hulk could see his raging emotions, these emotions which had been bottled up and repressed for so long in Bruce Banner simply searching for an outlet. When he was irradiated with Gamma rays during a rescue attempt the power somehow was linked with this emotion. It was my belief (which eventually turned out to be very correct) that this was the cause of his huge shows of power and that if we were to in someway channel this energy away during it’s fullest flow the ‘problem’ of The Hulk would be gone.”

He looked at the words on the screen carefully and then sat back from his computer and sighed.

He thought for a moment if there was a more sympathetic way in which he could portray Bruce and his alter ego. Anyone reading his book may be coming into the situation with a clean perspective and he didn’t want to jade them in anyway.

This was especially true because Leonard knew what was coming next. The experiment with the Hulk would work and then he in his infinite wisdom would decide that channeling the awesome power of the Hulk into himself would be a brilliant idea and give him all that he had ever desired. He would become a superhero.

He channeled the Gamma Energy into himself and like it had with Bruce’s rage it had latched onto something in his psyche, something in his unconscious mind with Bruce it was rage but with Leonard Samson it was his desire to be a hero and the long haired superhero Doc Samson was reborn.

He got too self involved with his own Ego ideal (the possible best he saw himself able to be) and set out to fulfill that. He trained as best he could to become this hero, to become this man.

It was through this selfish desire to become the perfect man which lead him to romancing and ‘saving’ Betty Ross from his own patient who he was well aware was emotionally unstable even more so since his separation from his emotions again characterized by The Hulk.

This drove Bruce to once again subject himself to Gamma rays and become the Hulk.

Samson leaned forward and highlighted the passage and deleted it. It was his fault that Bruce had become the Hulk again. If he had done his job and put the needs of his patient first rather than his own the hero that was Bruce Banner would not have to be trapped in the dual life he currently was. Leonard thought the way he had typed it Bruce’s decision to become the Hulk again would not be viewed in the most positive or understanding light.

He sighed, this writing of his ‘tell all autobiography and professional notes’ for the general public. He had no idea how he let himself get talked into this.

His intercom buzzed and a familiar voice spoke over it. Her voice was as sweet as honey despite it’s age. “You’re publicist is on the phone again Leo,” the honey was gone from her voice at the moment and the irritation was clear.

“Thank you,” Samson pressed the intercom button and then sighed before he picked up the phone and prepared to speak. He was a 500 pound man made out of pretty much only muscle and green hair with an IQ above 150 who had faced down The Hulk one on one but this woman scared him like no one he had ever met.

She got the first word in the second she heard him inhale slightly to speak his first word. “Leonard! How is my favorite client? How goes the book? I’ve promised the publisher the first three chapters of the superhero stuff by next Wednesday so they can look over them.”

“We’ll it’s coming. I’m just starting on my first meeting with The Hulk…it’s just hard to portray the true image of Bruce’s…”

“Oh don’t worry about that, just jot out the bare bones of event and we’ll have a Ghost Writer churn out the rest.”

Samson rolled his eyes. “I told you Sarah I’m not really comfortable with putting my name on something someone else has written on my behalf. I’d much rather not write it than have someone…”

“Leonard darling. Do you trust me?” Sarah spoke quickly and confidently. She didn’t wait for the answer Leonard would have given even if he hadn’t faltered about it trying to sugar coat the response. “I promised you that given all the recent publicity around that little Living Lightning thing…”

“Laser. Living Laser…and I doubt I’d call a man suffering a breakdown and remission to a previous state of being then trying to kill me a little thing.”

“Laser…right.” Samson could hear the clacking of keys as Sarah typed something on her computer. “Anyway I promised you that with your new practice I would give you the much needed boost. I will make you a star, the book is an all important piece of that puzzle and you do want it to be the best it can possibly be don’t you? You do want to be a star don’t you?”

“I’m not particularly bothered honestly.” Samson shrugged. He figured the best thing to do was to be honest about it. “When you came to me with your offer I thought boosting my profile would be a good way of boosting the profile of mental health issues and informing the general public to reduce all the negative stereotypes.”

Sarah was silent for a split second. It was a huge gap in her speech Samson wasn’t used to and it seemed to drag on forever (time is relative.) “Leonard you are a saint! I’ll make sure that’s put in your mini biog for all of your interviews….do-gooders are going over brilliantly at the minute. I always knew you would be a good marketer.”

Samson was about to tell her it wasn’t part of marketing. He’d learned long ago during his first foray as Doc Samson that there were more important things in the world than fame and fortune. “Anyway,” interrupted Sarah “That’s why I rang up. Massive news I’ve got you on Oprah …She’s gold for any career. You have to be there around 4 for filming and it’ll go out on Thursday. I’ll see you there and we’ll go through buzzwords for…”

“I can’t do that, I’m busy. Didn’t Louise fax over my schedule. I’ve got a meeting with Titania at The Pym Prison.”

“This is Oprah darling! You don’t pass up Oprah! We only managed to get this spot at the last minute when Bono had to pull out….some cat stuck up a tree or something no doubt. Do you realize that this is your jumping off point? From this your book will sell like hotcakes, then you get your own show. I’m thinking Springer, Oprah and Doctor Phil mixed into one with the added bonus of super powers. Squabbling mutants sleeping with their brothers wife telepathically to special guest interviews with all you’re A-list Avenger pals. What’s more important Oprah or this Titanium?”

“Well when you put it like that…tell Oprah I’m sorry. Sarah I am a psychologist first and foremost. I have a meeting with a patient, a dangerous super powered patient at that. She comes before any stupid television appearance.”

“Leo listen to me…” Samson moved the phone away from his ear and covered the mouth piece as there was a gently rapping on the door.

“Come in!” he called. He was glad of the distraction from Sarah. He’d just let her rant herself out and then reiterate he wasn’t going. It’s not like she could force him.

The door opened and in walked his secretary Louise Grant Mason. She was in her late twenties and was wearing a red shirt which highlighted her cleavage and a black knee length skirt and stockings. Samson smiled at her.

“Amadeus Cho here to see you,” she smiled. She liked Amadeus the time they had previously met a few weeks earlier. He had turned up on the opening day of the practice and made himself a nuisance to Samson as he tried to sort his own office. He had shown himself to be a genius on their meeting and was just so full of information. She had given him the nickname ‘Mastermind Excello’ after an old friend of hers from during the war.

You would never think it from looking at Louise but she was almost 90 years old. She was a hero from the Golden Age when a domino mask and a pistol let you go off to fight Nazis. She a couple of years back had been working for Jennifer Walters when following some sort of ‘super accident’ had been de-aged to her current state.

She had applied for the job as Samson’s assistant despite being hugely overly qualified. She had demanded the position and explained that in her entire life she had found nothing as challenging as working for Jen Walters so working for Leonard Samson she was sure would be yet another experience she would love.

Samson nodded and waved him in. “Sarah…” she was still talking. “I’m not doing it….bye.” he hung up and sighed.

“Now there’s a happy Gamma irradiated psychologist if I’ve ever seen one,” smiled Amadeus. Louise smiled gently as she left the room.

“What is it with you and all these hot women,” Amadeus pointed over his shoulder. “First that cop chick who was here last week, then her and the other hottie outside.” Amadeus tilted his head as he took off his bag over the top of it and set it down before dropping down into the chair opposite Samson’s big desk. He straightened out his green shirt and then looked at Samson.

“She is old enough to be your grandmother….correction she’s old enough to be my grandmother. She’s old enough to be your great grandmother.”

“Age is but a number…especially when you are as hot as that.”

Amadeus looked around the large room which had been filled and decorated since he was last here. The wall was lined with books and files. Samson sat behind an absolutely immense expanse of desk with a small leather chair opposite him. On one wall to Amadeus’ right was some seating of sofas and chairs all facing one another and on the opposite wall was the classic psychologist couch. “I wonder what Freud would say about this huge desk…compensating for something?”

“I had Orka in here yesterday…Orka is a good description. He’s the size of a whale. I need a big office and desk.”

“I’ll bet…whatever you say Doc. I know all of the side effects of steroids.” Amadeus smiled his mischievous smile.

“I see the school is having a wonderful effect on you,” Samson smiled. He was a mentor to Amadeus and as both that an a Doctor of his mental state Samson had final say on many situations in Amadeus Cho’s career and life path. He worked for the military since he was 10 years old, it was only a couple of months ago that Leonard had ordered he be given a place in high school. The projects he worked on to be completed alongside that, it wasn’t beyond Amadeus’s abilities.

“Yeah,” Amadeus rolled his eyes. “It’s a regular laugh riot and I can’t thank you enough for forcing me into going.”

“Everything ok?” Samson realized it was a dumb question. The inflection of Amadeus’s voice and his choice of words made it obvious to anyone that something was wrong.

“They’re just so…dumb.” He dropped his head in his hands. “Okay I don’t want to come off like an ass and I knew that they wouldn’t be as smart as me…it’s not even in the school work. They pick on the smart kids and worship kids who can run a little faster or slam into someone a little harder. Those that can throw a football that little further…”

“I heard you tried out for the Football team, I take it you didn’t do well?”

“I can calculate the exact trajectory of every player on the field, allow for trends and extraneous variables and predict the exact path of the ball…apparently I throw like a girl.”

Samson stifled a snigger. He knew all to well such problems. He had not always been the huge mass of muscle he was now and he remembered a particularly bad attempt he had in High school to join the wrestling team. “So other than that you made any friends?”

“I’ve made a few. Three I’d really call friends rather than just guys I can stand…they don’t even ask me to do their homework.”

“Ah the intelligence rears it’s head. There are a lot of people who don’t make realizations like that till college.” Samson smiled. He really liked Amadeus, was too smart for his own good, he knew it and he wasn’t afraid to let everyone else around him know but there was something about the kid that Samson liked. He felt proud of Amadeus’ accomplishments and not the things that he found easy like math, science and engineering but rather the social jumps he’d been making or how he was trying to figure out how others less logical than him thought. It was a proud moment for Samson to see him trying at things he didn’t find easy and for the most part succeeding and then when he failed learning from them and trying again. “You don’t seem too happy despite all these new friends.”

Cho rolled his eyes again, he made it blatant so Samson would notice he didn’t appreciate the attempt to gain more information than he was willing to give at the moment. He sighed both he and Samson were too smart to go around and around in circles of ever decreasing size until he finally spilled the core of the problem or Samson guessed it. “Y’know the guys who run slightly faster or throw the ball slightly harder and all those sheep who follow them?”

Samson nodded.

“Oh god I want them to like me!...I don’t know why but I just want them to like me!”

Samson sat for a second and stared at the young man across form him who suddenly seemed even younger. He let out a hard and loud burst of laughter. He very quickly put his hand across his mouth but then let out another burst and moved it to his eyes. “You are a very helpful psychologist,” nodded Amadeus, he didn’t seem to see the humor.

“I’m sorry,” Samson shook his head “It’s not funny is it?” He laughed again slightly but then managed to banish it completely from his face. He focused on moving from ‘friend’ mode which he most often tried with Amadeus to moving into ‘psychologist’ mode where nothing could surprise or worry him and most importantly nothing would ever make him laugh at a patient.

“No it isn’t,” Amadeus shook his head. “I have no idea why? I don’t understand why they do half of the stuff they do? I don’t understand the way they think or why people worship them….but I want to be one of them! It’s like some sort of brainwashing or something.”

“Social Identity Theory,” Samson nodded. “We define ourselves based on the groups we belong to and they become an ‘in-group’ everyone else becomes an ‘out-group.’ We all belong to our own in-groups whether it be male or female, American, White, Student, Teenager…Psychologist or whatever then we all belong to others out-groups. There’s no way around it that’s how we categorize ourselves naturally, how our brains work. It’s where stereotypes come from.”

“So what you’re telling me is I’m their out-group but I’m someone else’s in-group so I should be happy? Doesn’t really help.”

“That’s the thing you see and no one knows why, studies have went on for years. Whatever reason there may be some groups just give out some sort of magnetic pull that make others want to join them…celebrities, superheroes… ‘cool’ kids at school. They just make you want to be part of them. I wish I knew.”

Amadeus nodded. “As a mentor whose meant to give me advice and guidance you rather suck y’know?”

Leonard smirked. He understood how it could seem that way. “I’m sorry Amadeus it’s just one of those things, it’s like learning to walk just something you have to do on your own. The only advice I can give you at all would be whatever decision you make don’t forget your three good friends.”

“So is that everything?” Amadeus stood up. “You asked me to come into the city just so you could ask me if everything is ok? We’ve got an appointment in a couple of days.”

“No it isn’t,” he motioned at the chair for Amadeus to once again sit down which he did. “How are you holding with the workload at school and from the military?”

“It’s okay…keeps me busy enough. I make the time.”

“So you stretch out the work to fill whatever free time you have then taking much longer to do jobs than they need for you to do?” Amadeus nodded and pulled a ‘you got me’ face. He hated how no one understood and knew him more than a middle aged man. “Perfect I know how all of the money you get from the military is funneled into a trust and invested for you until you’re 21…”

“Wasn’t that your idea?”

“Well yes…trust me no body with that much money at your age comes out of it well. So how would you like a job?”

“What? Where? Here?” Amadeus was taken aback by the question.

“Yes…nothing too big. I wont be expecting you to talk The Melter about his father issues or anything just filing or whatever.”

“You’ve been missing me haven’t you? In this big office all alone.”

“Never mind! It was a stupid idea. I just figured you could use some cash and this is the best way to keep an eye on you.”

“Hey I didn’t say no, lets talk percentages,” Amadeus made a weighing motion with his hands.

“Eleven dollars an hour, that’s it.” Samson stuck out his hand to shake with Amadeus. Amadeus seemed to roll the idea around his mind briefly before sitting forward and shaking hands with Samson. “Great I’ll introduce you to the others.”

The two stood up and walked to the door and out into the outer office. It was decorated tastefully and had two desks and a seating area. It too was a much larger room than the last one Samson had had in his old building…which blew up.

“You’ve already met Louise…he agreed.” Samson smiled at the Blonde who smiled back at him and Amadeus and waved gently. She was about to speak when the phone rang.

“This over in the corner,” Samson seized Amadeus’s shoulder and turned him to face the other desk. It had none of the papers or documents that Samson’s and Louise’s had there was simply a portable CD player with headphones and a PC.

The girl sitting at the desk had a deep tan and black hair. She was wearing a ‘The Clash’ T-shirt and was busy hammering the buttons on a controller as she stared intently at the computer screen.

“This is Murmur…Murmur!...MURMUR!” Samson rapped gently on her desk to gain the girls attention which made everything on it jump about an inch into the air.

“Aw my game crashed,” she dragged the headphones off her head and gave Samson a look of death. Amadeus immediately placed her accent as that of French Canadian.

“This is Arlette Truffaut, aka Murmur. She’s my bodyguard and head of security…Murmur this is our new intern Amadeus.”

Arlette barely flashed a wave and then hit reset on her computer. “You need a body guard?”

“It’s sometimes hard for people with super strength to handle people without super strength…I lose my temper and punch someone I could kill them…plus I prefer not to use physical violence where possible.”

“And she handles this how?” Amadeus shrugged and stuck out his hands palms to the sky.

Arlette seemed to take it as a challenge as she sat forward and slapped his hand like a hi five. “BARK!” she commanded.

“Woof…Woof….Woof….Woof” Amadeus shot his hands to his face and covered his mouth.

Arlette was a mutant with the power of controlling another once physical contact has been made. She had trained with Beta Flight up in Canada after they took her from the home (Hull House) she had grown up in. A gun shot wound to the leg sidelined her superhero career. Samson hand picked her to come and work for him.

“Leo,” Louise coughed and held out the phone to him. “It’s the Vault. Killgrave has been demanding to see you all week.”

Samson held up his palm to Louise and shook his head. “Tell them I’ve told them, I won’t go and see him before his next appointment no matter how much he demands it. He has to learn that people won’t just jump to his beck…” Samson had been trying to handle The Purple Man in a way to slowly make it so he didn’t feel like he needed to use his powers to stay in control. He wasn’t sure why exactly. The Purple Man was never getting out of prison but he’d taken him on as one of his personal projects.

“…they say to tell you that he stopped demanding about an hour ago and asked to ‘please’ see you.”

Samson stopped and thought for a second and looked at his watch. “Tell them I’m on my way. Ring the Pym Prison and put my appointment with Titania back by half an hour.” Samson smiled. Killgrave asking for something rather than demanding it was a huge breakthrough in his treatment.

“Arlette, time to go.” Samson grabbed his jacket from the back of the door as he crossed room and took a pen and paper from Louise’s desk.

“Aw, my game is just starting up again.” She motioned to the screen. Samson shot her a look. “I know, I know…I have two jobs around here and all I do is complain about them please don’t lecture me again.”

“You too huh? He never gives it a rest with me,” Amadeus smiled at Arlette who smirked back at him.

“We’ll drop Amadeus off first before heading over there. If you wait around you can port me to the Pym Prison too.”

Samson crossed the room and placed his hand on Arlette’s shoulder and she laid hers on Amadeus’s. Louise looked up at the three, she always enjoyed this part. There was a flash of light as Murmur teleported the three away.

The Vault…

Doc Samson walked through the door as the guard opened it and locked it behind him. He walked down the lit corridor towards the cell he so often visited. The cell of The Purple Man.

He often thought of Killgrave in the same thought as he did Bruce Banner. The two were without a doubt his greatest challenges in his career. They both had some intangible quality of being a challenge which Samson found himself exhilarated by.

Samson strode across the corridor and pulled the metal folding chair into the centre of it before plunked himself down and looked straight at The purple Man.

Zebediah sat on his bed in his orange jumpsuit with a white T-shirt underneath it. These two clashed horribly with his bright purple skin. The orange and the purple going together like fish and cake. There was something marginally funny about seeing the egomaniacal serial killer reduced to looking like some sort of clown. “You requested to see me?”

Purple Man glared at Samson. He’d been demanding to see him all week only to have his desires ignored by both Samson and by the prison guards. He had pouted when he wasn’t demanding to see him until eventually he gave in and did what he knew Samson wanted from him. He asked to see him.

The pouting and ranting inmate was not something Purple Man enjoyed being. It was far from his usual commanding self.

“Yes,” Purple Man nodded and then waited a second or two before speaking. “You cancelled our last meeting… didn’t like that. How do you expect me to get ‘better’ if you don’t turn up when you are scheduled. Don’t let it happen again.”

Samson looked at Purple Man’s face. It was as stoic as usual as he spoke. Samson made a note on the pad of paper he had. He looked up again and glanced at the cell of The Purple Man.

The cell was a standard sized cell in the maximum security section of the prison. It glowed dully lit from the ceiling by the oddly strobing lights of a power dampener. No other light source in the world gave off that amount of glow. There was the usual bed and toilet and a small desk and chair. A small stack of books lay on the floor against the wall pressed tightly to it. The wall facing Samson contained a sheet of paper with a lined grid marked on it. The grid was full of notes and scores. The bed was made immaculately with military corners and the toilet was cleaner than any prison toilet Samson had ever seen.

It seemed to Samson that without his powers to control others Killgrave had once again felt the lack of power that he had been forced to endure growing up in a war torn country. He seemed to handle this by managing his environment and times meticulously to give himself that sense of control. It was a trait shared by several disorders such as OCD and Autism (especially Aspergers’ syndrome). Samson made a note that he didn’t necessarily think that he suffered either disorder but simply that he needed to feel control and this meticulousness was the only way to do so given his situation so he surrounded himself by it to give himself that needed power.

“I was very busy, I pushed your session back to make room for more pressing cases,” Samson was very careful not to apologize. Killgrave had the attitude that he was in charge and everyone should be in deference to him, it was something Samson was trying to break him of. He wasn’t going to apologize.

“I fail to see what could be more important than our meetings. We had a scheduled time to met. You canceling at the last minute was very rude. It threw my schedule off by two hours.” Killgrave was still stoic as he spoke. His words denoted anger but his expression and voice gave away only the tiniest of micro expressions which no one but Samson would be able to pick up on. Still the amount of these micro expressions were tiny in comparison to what they should have been. ‘Another form of self control in showing no emotion’ noted Samson.

“You could have read a little, you have quite a stack of books there,” Samson pointed to the neat stack which went from largest to smallest.

“It wasn’t time for reading,” Purple Man pointed behind him to the schedule on the wall.

“Don’t you find it hard to live such a regimented life? What if you want to read a little more of your book…or your halfway through a chapter when reading time ends?”

“Then I stop.” Purple Man nodded curtly. “I would find no need to read more, the book will still be there the next day during reading time when I wish to continue. I would not have the issues if other people followed the schedule.” It was obviously a dig at Samson.

“As I say I had other patients to see. You seem to be on an even keel at the moment and can go longer periods of time without seeing me. I dare say our meetings will become more sporadic what with my new practice.” Samson carefully watched Purple Man while making sure Killgrave didn’t pick up on his observation. He was pushing Purple Man. Progress had been made in the way Purple man was now trying to assert control over his own life rather than that of others.

In some ways it may have seen like a backwards step or a negative one in the least as Purple Man seemed to develop ‘mental health issues’ with his regimented life but it seemed to Samson it was a matter…a harsh one true but a matter of breaking Purple Man down a little more chipping away at his maladaptive characteristics before they together were capable of starting to build him up.

“No, that won’t do at all. We are to continue our regular schedule.”

“I’m sorry Zebediah but you don’t really have a say in this, I’m in charge of your sessions and my own career so I decide when we meet.”

“Why? Don’t you enjoy the sessions?! You will come to the next one at the arranged time,” Purple Man’s stoic tone now wobbled and a little of his emotion showed through. Leonard measured the reaction carefully, he had lost his self control but was still making demands. The most shocking thing which Samson instantly scribbled down quickly was that he had actually asked for Samson’s opinion, not only his opinion but about his emotion. This was something ground breaking for a man who since Samson had met him had just considered others to be paper dolls to him.

“Enjoy?” Samson rand his hand across his face. “I wouldn’t say I enjoyed the sessions part. It’s true you are a very intelligent man and I do enjoy talking to you at times. You also are a very interesting case and a challenge for my skills which I enjoy but I think we need to make something clear. You are not my friend, I don’t enjoy spending time with you. You’re my patient and a very sick man. You personify qualities that I don’t like and you’ve done horrific things…perhaps it would be best if this was our last session. I’ve obviously gave out some signals which is causing one of us to overstep the boundaries of this relationship…I’ll have to think about it. I’ll arrange for another meeting at a later point…or recommend someone else.”

Samson stood up and pushed the chair against the wall and without looking back turned and walked down the corridor away from the shouting Purple Man.

“Where are you going! You can’t leave! I demand you stay!...I demand you come back!....Come Back!....Please?!”

The door at the end of the hallway slammed loudly.

The Pym Experimental Prison #2…

Doc Samson sat inside the interview room of the prison, his requests for another room once again turned down. He was busy making some notes on his meeting with Purple Man.

It had been an interesting meeting and Purple Man was making some progress, more than Samson ever thought he would in such a short time. He would of course be going back to visit him for another session. His final comments were again attempted as a push to Killgrave’s treatment and given Killgrave’s last word it seemed to work. He was chosen to be Killgrave’s psychologist for a reason at the moment he was pretty much the best man for the job and it would be negligent of him to hand the buck onto someone else.

He finished his notes and flipped over the page. He was here for a different job now and it was time to move on.

The Pym Experimental prison was much like any other. There were halls and corridors and open areas all filled with prisoners of varying degrees. The guards patrolled these and tried to keep everything in order.

There were a couple of differences which made the prison ‘Experimental’ in the first place. One of this was the Exo-structure and Endo-Structure. The Exo-structure was much the same as a normal prison.

The Endo-structure however was very different. It was in this area that the real experimental part of the prison came into effect.

The roof of the cell slowly opened causing Samson to jerk his head up. He looked up at the black masked man who towered over the room which went about as high as his knee. His mask contained lenses which were currently moving in and out as they focused on Samson.

The man’s large hand lowered a small figure into the room and then with a click of a button unlocked her restraints and slowly began to close the ‘lid’ of the room with a ‘Click’.

The Endo-structure made the Pym Prison so ingenious and experimental because it housed 500 prisoners in the space it would normally house 50 and gave them extra room to boot. Each prisoner was shrunken down to less than an inch in size. They were watched over both by miniature guards patrolling the corridors of the Endo-structure and normal human sized guards who acted as massive fail safes who patrolled the Exo-structure and the boundary of the Endo-structure.

Anyone who went into the prison (currently Doc Samson) to interact with a prisoner was shrunken down to their size so to minimize the chance of escape by the prisoners should they be at their full size.

Samson smiled up at Titania. “Hello Mary. I know we’ve met before but I’m Leonard Samson. I’m taking over the therapy sessions for some of the prisoners here. You included.”

“Swell,” Titania rolled her eyes. She was in a similar jump suit to the prisoners at The Vault. It was clear she didn’t have a high opinion of Samson. It wasn’t unexpected considering the amount of time Titania had clashed with She-Hulk. She no doubt just saw another Gamma irradiated superhero.

“It’s my job to evaluate your mental state at any given point and advise on any special treatment I feel you may need. I’m also here just to listen, I know prison can be a hard place and you can’t often…” Titania smirked cutting Samson off. “I take it you don’t need to vent anything? Not feeling threatened?”

“What have I got to feel threatened about? I’m only an inch tall but so is everyone else. I’m still stronger than everyone else in here.” Titania brimmed with confidence, she seemed all of her normal 7 feet tall rather than the inch she truly was.

Samson nodded understandingly and wrote something. “Honestly, and I hope you won’t hold it against me here, but honestly I think this is all a front.”

“Is that so,” Titania nodded. She folded her arms across her chest as she sat back in the chair. “Let me tell you greeny-locks, that the only thing stopping me ripping your head off now is the six foot tall guard who could crush me with his foot.”

“Please hear me out.” Samson held up his hand as a sign for her to listen and refrain from ripping his head off. “You didn’t have a very happy life did you? Born premature leading to you having a small stature all the way through life. You weren’t physically intimidating and weren’t particularly academically gifted. You were a nice girl by all accounts, on the quiet side, really. You were bullied a lot as a kid, weren’t you?”

Titania nodded. “Nothing I could have done about it. Tried to fight back a couple of times and it got me nowhere…I got even with them all eventually, though.” Titania smiled a smug smile to herself. Samson had read the reports of crimes suspected to belong to Titania. Vicious beatings whenever she happened to cross paths with someone she had went to high school with.

“Ah yes you got even thanks to Doctor Doom. He gave you your powers back during The Secret Wars. That is right isn’t it? You might be one of the only people I know with a pleasant thing to say about Victor Von Doom, then?”

Titania shrugged. “Nothing in particular. He needed some people to do his work and I wanted power. I’m thankful to him for giving me these powers but we’re square as far as I’m concerned. He hired me for a job and this is my payment.” She flexed her muscle.

“He changed your personality along with your body didn’t he?” It was a loaded question from Samson. Her personality definitely changed from a meek submissive one to a powerful aggressive one but whether it was down to Doom (who generally liked people submissive to him) or merely gave Mary a chance to finally grow fully into the person she always wanted to be. He wanted to see what she saw in the situation.

Titania shrugged. She had never really thought about it. She wasn’t sure if her personality had changed or if her powers had simply let her finally be as assertive as she knew she could be. The change in personality had happened mightily quickly after her personality but almost instantly she could feel the power in her. She summed all of this up in her shrug.

A siren in the Exo-structure began to blare loudly. It was muffled through all the walls made of steel and concrete. Samson looked up at the ceiling expecting it to open at any second. There was nothing.

“Just a lock down…someone’s been kicking up a fuss. They call in the Exo-guards but we’re far enough away that I doubt they’ll bother you.” Titania sighed. It was usual. She was a professional criminal and stints in prison seemed to be nothing more to her than an occupational hazard.

Samson nodded and then jumped back into the conversation. “So despite all that, you expect me not to believe that this doesn’t effect you? You’ve always hated being small and feeling weak…and yet being shrunk down to this size and having your strength essentially negated doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s all relative isn’t it? Sure I like being strong but as I said, I am compared to most of the people in here. There are the guards and everyone else in the world who are stronger than me at the moment but there’s always going to be people like that…point is I’m a big fish and this is a tiny pond. I’m plenty strong for what I do at the minute.”

Samson nodded and made a note. What Titania was saying was true, she was by far the strongest in this prison and the guards suspected her of being responsible for quite a few beatings in the place. He had not expected such an intelligent insight from the woman whose usual response to any challenging stimuli was to smash it.

“So lets talk about The Secret Wars...that’s where you first met Carl Creel right? By all accounts you didn’t exactly hit it off straight away.”

“He was a cocky, crude and so sure of himself as better than everyone else around him.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing…I realized I loved him. Simple as that. He’s still a cocky, crude and thinks he’s better than everyone…but me. He’s my man.” Titania smiled absent mindedly. It was clear to Samson as odd as their relationship was Titania truly loved The Absorbing Man.

“I bet that’s hard, him being on the run and you in here. Away from him, unable to share all your thoughts and feelings?”

Titania turned her head away from Samson. It was clear she missed him, it was probably the hardest part of being in prison. It was the lynch pin that Samson would aim her therapy at for the moment before it turned onto more of an approach to intrinsic rewards. The two had tried to go straight numerous times but always just fell short. He was sure he could rehabilitate them and their love for each other could be the catalyst.

“It is hard, I miss him and wish he was here…”

The ‘lid’ of the room quickly opened making the blaring of the alarm all that much louder. Samson looked up at the face of one of the guards covered in a mask. He was no doubt there to tell them to move out or that everything had been resolved.

“Thanks,” said a booming voice as the guard was tossed through the air. The silvery face of Crusher Creel The Absorbing Man looked down into the room. “Hey Babe! I’m getting you out of here!” His large hand moved down into the room and Titania jumped onto it.

She waved to Doc Samson as she was lifted out of the room. “Thanks Doc, your session really helped me.” It was true she’d managed to get word to Creel about her brief foray into one of the lower security wings of the Endo-structure during her session. They had planned things from there.

Leonard was on his feet watching Titania be lifted out. He rushed at the wall as Creel vanished over the edge of it and simply crashed through it sending the miniature rubble flying.

Creel was destroying walls and cells without even thinking about it they simply crumbled around his large metal feet. Doc Samson was having to cover his face as he raced along the corridor dodging billowing clouds of dust and showers of rubble.

He was only an inch high but still had a portion of his strength, meaning he was able to jump a couple of feet into the air. He looked down briefly as he ‘flew’ at the prisoners in their tiny cells who now found themselves either dead under Creel’s feet or free for the first time in a long time. The women prisoners exploded to freedom.

Samson stretched out his arms and caught the trailing lace of Creel’s sneakers which too had turned to steel along with the rest of him. Leonard clung onto the hard cold metal as it whipped in the air and Creel smashed his metallic body mass through a wall and into the open sunlight as he exited the Exo-Structure of the prison.

“Okay you’re an inch tall and have hitched a ride with The Absorbing Man…” Samson paused for a second from his summing up of the situation “…I should have gone to Oprah.”

To Be Continued...