Stepping out of the taxi to the front door of his own personal tower, Samson Marcel stepped out with a sense of accomplishment. The building had been manufactured with no expense spared, including bulletproof glass for all forty-nine floors and blast-proof doors at the entrance. The punks who had gotten through before came in when the doors were already opened, so they were able to prosecute the single security flaw in the building on dumb luck. The structure was made with the strongest industrial steel money could buy under the supervision of the greatest architect and building manufacturers there were.

Marcel Tower was not only in one piece, but the only damage seemed to be some graffiti on the outside walls. Samson went up to the door and swiped his hand across the lock pad, and the blast-proof doors released the noisiest lock there was. Samson opened the door to see Alexander conversing with some people in the lobby, people wearing large, steel-grey collars. They stopped talking and looked to the side, seeing the large man enter the building. "Sir Marcel," said Alexander in annoyance, "that woman and your black friend assaulted this establishment and took over without so much as a word from you! I've been trying to get them to leave, but they are adamant in-"

"Alexander," said Samson calmly, "how about I let them off with a warning this time. I can imagine no one's in the best of moods right now." The people Alexander were talking to stood up and walked over to Samson with a determined gaze in their eyes. Samson reached out and touched their collars, which released a loud beep and fell to the linoleum floors, probably chipping the stone. "Go do what you need to do first," said Samson, gesturing with his thumb towards the door. The heroes nodded at Samson, then ran out of the front door to stop the chaos.

"What are you doing," Alexander asked as Samson went behind the counter.

"Making things more expedient," said Samson, reaching up to the cable television. A message began to form on the TV, 'All heroes meet in the lobby to have your collars removed.' and throughout the building every TV displayed the messages. Even when Samson released the television, the message stayed. "Alexander, I'm starved, is there anything with a lot of sugar I can eat."

"We have the sodas from the stock machine," said Alexander hesitantly.

"Would you mind raiding the machine and getting me all of that soda," Samson asked politely.

"May I ask why," Alexander said curiously.

"I have a superpower, Alexander," Samson admitted sadly. "It burns a lot of calories and uses a lot of energy, but I need it to take the collars off of these superheroes. I'm going to have to load up on sugars and calories."

"Enough said," Alexander cut in, "I'll raid the drink dispenser." As the first wave of heroes arrived, Samson was sitting on a chair near the entrance with Alexander and a massive pile of sodas and snacks. One by one, the superheroes had their collars removed and ran out of the building to fight crime. For the entire line, Samson needed to keep one hand swallowing food and soda just to keep his energy levels up to manipulate the electricity in the collars.

Once every collar was removed, Samson almost collapsed in exhaustion against the chair. "Thanks, Alexander," Samson said with the taste of sugar in his mouth. "You've been a good friend and an amazing manager for years. I'm glad I can count on you."

"It's been a pleasure knowing you," replied Alexander happily. "Do you need help?"

"Yes, actually, I do," said Samson, putting an arm around Alexander who helped him to the elevator. On the slow journey there and up the tower, Samson explained, "My power allows immediate regeneration of lost limbs, cuts, and scrapes, but it requires nutrients from my body to supplement the things I've lost. If my arm gets cut off, it turns into lightning I can immediately absorb and shape, but if I go for five days without food or water my body is going to be rapidly regenerating with materials it doesn't have."

"Is there any way I can help," Alexander asked once the elevator opened up to Samson's apartment.

"I need nutrients Alexander, and lots of them," Samson ordered. "Get twelve meals worth of meat, vegetables, and bread of any kind. Once my body digests it, I should be back to perfect health in no time at all." Samson was laid on the large couch, then Alexander rushed back to the elevator to fill the twelve meal order with haste. Samson was left alone in the room with his thoughts, until he heard the sound of some gentle knocking on the window.

Looking up, Samson saw a marvelous figure standing on the balcony wearing a blue skin-tight suit with three pronged patch on her shoulder. Her blond hair fell down to the curve in her back, and her bust was exaggerated by her crossed arms. When Samson Marcel looked at Karen Hunt, she looked away as if embarrassed by something. With the last few ounces of strength, Samson slowly stood up and limped uselessly over to the window. Karen was nearly at tears, she couldn't bring herself to look up at the large man for fear of what she might see.

"I-I came to check up on you," said Karen nervously. "I heard you... were looking better."

"I love you," said Samson simply, and he let the words sink in so Karen would look up to meet his gaze. What she saw purified and renewed her strength, because Samson was looking through the glass with heartfelt meaning. "We have to talk later," said Samson sadly. "You have to do what you need to do."

"I need to make sure you're alright," said Karen, pressing on the glass that separated them. "I want to stay with you."

"I want you to stay," said Samson with a slight rasp in his voice, "but right now, there are people that need you more than me. I hate to say this, but... you need to be a hero." Samson put his large hand on the glass, and Karen did the same. Slowly, her face changed to royal blue skin and her hair became longer with a light blue tinge. She looked at Samson with magnificent, sparkling blue eyes that were filled with hope, so he smiled weakly. "I still think you're beautiful," said Samson through the glass, "now go."

Samson turned to achingly lie down on the couch, so when he looked back at the balcony window, Queen was gone. Looking up at his ceiling, laying on a comfortable couch that cost more than most people's mortgage, Samson thought this might be a nice way to die. He had a feeling of completeness in his body that he'd never felt before, and it was enough to make the rotation of the world might stop for him today. If there was ever a time for him to die, it would be right now with a smile on his face.

Samson suddenly opened his eyes to a slap across the face from Alexander, who was impossibly worried. "You scared me there," admitted Alexander, "I thought you had died."

"I think the sugar rush ended," said Samson with a dry throat. He noticed a large bag in the doorway to the elevator, with food piling out of it. "Shopping go well?"

"I got a great discount," said Alexander with a cheeky smile. "You'll have to reimburse my coupon wallet for the Giant Eagle."

"I'll buy you the chain," said Samson with a weak laugh. "Let's start with water, then go with what's immediately edible."

"Yes sir," said Alexander with a pleasant smile.