Samson lay sleeping peacefully in an enormous bed meant for twenty-five people. The room he slept in was a peaceful penthouse apartment with the works cut into it. Security was like a high rise Fort Knox, but it was barely noticable behind all of the technology. Samson had outfitted the apartment with the latest of everything, even the coffee-maker.

Right at 7:00 am, the entire apartment suddenly came alive with an alarm that rang throughout. Samson got up groggily, walking in his stripped pajama bottoms to the panel where everything was relayed. Samson pressed the enormous green snooze button on the screen, which then went black before showing all of today's data. It was going to be partially cloudy, temperatures in the high seventies, stocks were up, all conditions nominal, and there were three voicemails. Samson pressed the voicemail, then walked into the kitchen as the voicemail tone rang out over the speakers.

"Hello, this is Mutual Liberty calling on behalf of-"

"Seven," shouted Samson quickly, standing in front of the coffee maker as it belched out grimy sludge.

"Message deleted," said the voicemail.

"Hey, buddy, it's Mark, your one and only friend you never call? Just wanted to know if you were planning on meeting at the usual place? Who am I kidding, I know you'll be there. I just hope that girl won't be there or I'll never get your attention. See you there."

"Seven," shouted Samson, taking the cup of coffee off of the coffee maker and lifting it to his lips.

"This is a call for Samson Marcel, from your 'employer' Reggie Davis. I regretfully inform you that your recent ventures have been found to leave something behind. You are fully aware that this hidden expenditures will have to be taken out of your account personally, which we have already done. We hope that further indiscretions will not happen, and we hope you have a good day."

"Seven," said Samson, sipping his coffee.

"Message deleted," said the voicemail, "there are no more messages." Samson sipped the coffee once more, then he walked over to the sink and casually poured it out.

"Five thousand dollars for some shit coffee," said Samson sourly, setting the mug back on the coffee maker. He went back into his room and opened up a sliding door to reveal a revolving coat rack. Samson grabbed a nice suit from the coat rack and put it on, stripping his pajamas and moving into a nice suit coat. Going back into his kitchen/living room, Samson went to the shiny steel doors of the elevator and pressed the call button. He waited for a few seconds, then the elevator opened up and he stepped on.

Two minutes later, Samson was at a small, independent coffee shop just down the street from his apartment building. He was standing in line with some strangers when he saw Mark sitting down at a two-seater table. Mark was an African-American man who had once attempted to rob the same bank as Samson at the same time. He was one of the crazy villains that wore spandex and a simple mask that barely hid his face. Still, he could control people with his mind, which was really handy with cooperation. He couldn't control Samson, though, possibly because Samson could fry him if he ever felt him intruding on his mind. It's not that hard to figure out someone's reading your mind, it feels like having a brain freeze.

"So, how's it going," asked Mark with his arm out for a slap-and-shake. Samson brought his arm around and grasped Mark's hand, then they bumped each other's shoulders.

"It's going good, man," replied Samson happily, "I've almost finished my suit."

"Man, when are you going to show me that thing, I'm dying to see it," stressed Mark.

"You'll see it when everyone else sees it," said Samson. "But dude, I got this sick design for the helmet. It's just this black layering that reflects light, it just looks so sick I could puke."

"Man, you're so lucky," said Mark with a disappointed tone, "I'm still robbing banks and you're about to be big-time villain material."

"Did you do what I said," asked Samson, thinking that he hadn't gotten his coffee.

"Yeah, making the tellers wire me money," said Mark, "but I'm still only at like two mil."

"Hey, it took me four years to get my first billion," said Samson reassuringly. "You just gotta get used to what you can do, then find the best way to get money. Besides, I still think you've got the better power."

"Bullshit, I can't shoot lightning outta my ass. If I get caught, I'm fucked."

"No, you could just convince people to let you out," said Samson. "You want someone to give you a hundred, bam, they give you a hundred. Hold that thought, I need some coffee." Samson got up in line, but everyone in front of him let him go first. Samson gave a nod to Mark who just smiled and sipped his own coffee. He ordered, got his cup and lemon cake, then sat back down right as she came in.

She had long tanned legs and supermodel good looks, the kind most guys fantasize about with a tissue in hand. Her bust was abominable, the size of cantaloupes and still as situated as a middle-school bloomer. Her figure defied gravity, even her rounded athletic posterior which was accented by the tight jeans she wore. Her perfectly blond hair reached down to the bottom of her shoulder blades where it was neatly trimmed. Samson knew some guys might get turned off because she was fairly tall and meaty, but no meat had gone to waste on her figure and Samson was taller still.

"Just ask her out already," said Mark insistently.

"Ssh," stressed Samson, not wanting his goddess to hear the guttersnipes speak. "How can I ask her out, she's way out of my league!" Mark grabbed the collar of his friend's shirt and pulled him so they were face-to-face.

"Dude, we're villains," he said flatly. "We do whatever we want to do, can't nobody tell us otherwise. Now I've seen you staring at that girl every time she comes in here, and I always have to smack you back to attention. You've got everything, you just need to go and ask her out!"

"I already told you, she's out of my league," said Samson shyly. He stole a glance at her and saw that she was looking his direction, so he quickly averted his eyes.

"Dude, you are such a pussy," said Mark with a laugh. "Don't worry, I've got your back." The woman that they had been talking about began walking back around the store, but Mark stood up and blocked her way. "Hey, I'm sorry, but my friend here is really self-concious about himself, but he's been checking you out this whole time." Samson quickly stood up and grabbed the back of Mark's neck, sending a small shock to make his body seize up.

"Hah, Mark you're such a kidder," said Samson, trying to awkwardly play it off. "I'm sorry he disturbed you, ma'am, just ignore him." The woman smiled, her perfect teeth showing like a row of pearls as she dug through her bag. She pulled out a small card and a pen, then wrote something on the back.

"The name's Karen," said the woman, handing Samson the card with a number on it. "Call me sometime, we should get together." Samson took the card with a goofy smile on his face. Watching Karen leave, Samson was too occupied to notice he was still causing Mark's body to seize up.

"Oh, sorry," said Samson, stopping the electrical current so that Mark breathed in heavily.

"Geez, man, I thought you were gonna kill me," said Mark in mock anger.

"Hey, I'll make it up to you," said Samson happily, slapping Mark's back supportively. "How about, we go to my base, and I'll show you the project I've been working on?"