Prologue is over. Hope you enjoyed it! What will Sam do next, I wonder? Let's find out, shall we?

Please, enjoy. :)

4 . Will somebody wake me up?

Teach plays with her golden hair between her slender and well manicured fingers, throwing it behind her shoulders. She looks away for a moment, probably at the big clock that tick-tocks on the wall behind you. You can't help but gulp, squirming on the old but cozy armchair you are sitting on.

She puts down her cup. "Right. I will spare you of my usual spill about how accepting what happened is the first step to healing. You probably know that by now."

Teach gives off a rather unsettling feeling about herself, at least to you she does. You know she is an older woman, the marks of time on her face and her wisdom tell a story of someone who lived through a lot; but her divine, young beauty and sweet tone somewhat contradicts that. Everything about her screams fake. An act. But she did house you, fed you and gave you every support imaginable. You wonder if one day you will find out what she is hiding; or if she will find out what you are hiding yourself.

Her eyes, filled with judgment to the brim, throws you off, making you blush as you stumble on your words. You were probably quiet for a suspiciously long time there, Sam. "Y-You are right? I mean, what did you say? N-No, I was paying attention! Ughh." Your head falls to your hands. You grip your hair, pulling on it hard. "I'm sorry, Teach." You feel defeated, somehow. You were listening to her, but the right words just didn't come out. How do you even answer that, anyway? It's not like her words didn't make sense, it's just so… hard. She doesn't know your true story. She doesn't know what you've been through.

You can hear her armchair get closer to you, and you look up to meet her gaze. She is now sporting a more sympathetic, warm expression. She uncrosses her legs, giving you her hands to hold. "You don't need to be sorry, Samuel. I'm just trying to understand you better so that you can do it too." She smiles. You feel like she is one of the only people who can see you for who you are. Not as the Spider, not as a troubled kid. She sees you as Samuel Redmond. And that makes her even scarier. "Look, Sam. We all have been through a lot, believe me. We all fight our demons. Some of us more than others, but we all do. We do have each other, though. And that, that makes us stronger. Not crawling on walls, shooting lasers through our eyes, no, it's us. People make us the heroes we are."

You feel tears forming on your eyes. How can this woman make so much sense? You just want to cry, something you haven't done since that night. You want to be vulnerable, tell her everything. But you can't, you have a role to play, and it involves you being strong. You have to make it count.

"Yeah, you are right." you say, drily. You remove your hands from her embrace and wipe your eyes, trying not to make eye contact with the woman. Standing up and walking towards the door, you are halted by Teach cleaning her throat.

"Ahem. Same time next week, Sam?"

You look over your shoulders without actually looking at her. "Yeah, Teach. Thanks for the talk."

"No need to thank me, my door is always open for you, Sam. Oh, and please. We've known each other for a while now, no need for such formalities. You can call me Emma."

You lightly tap the door on your way out, nodding your head. Emma is too good for you, you don't deserve any of this. As you walk through the cold hallways of the "borrowed" abandoned orphanage you live in, you can't help but think about how you came by the Renegades in the first place. It wasn't long after that night, in fact. At least, you don't think so.

You had nowhere to go, really. You couldn't face Christina after what had just happened, it would be too dangerous. So you roamed the city aimlessly, scavenging for scraps and helping people at night. One day, out of the blue, a woman's voice spoke to you inside your mind, knowing exactly who you were and where you were. She presented herself as a teacher, and she invited you to her home. She advertised it as a house for the young, outcast superpowered kids of New York. Promising a warm bed and free food, it was a no brainer. That's how you joined what would be known as The Renegades.

You roam between what feels like countless doors, of many sizes and colors. You stop in front of one, dark wood, with a mounted yellow warning sign that reads "DEAD END", in big, black, bold letters. You can hear some punkish song blaring through the walls, coming from inside said "dead end". Ignoring the ominous sign, you knock on the door. It takes a few tries, but eventually the song lowers in volume, and you can hear someone coming to answer it.

"Sup, Sam. Need something?" asks the inhabitant of the room with an annoyed tone. You have to look down a bit to meet her eyes, looking past her white locks that adorned her brown hair. She wasn't wearing any eye-shadow today, which was particularly strange. You quickly realize she was probably mid workout, due to her only wearing her sports bra and some leggings. Her appearance catches you off guard, but you try to brush it off.

"Hey, uhm, I'm done with Emma. You can go in if you want to." you say, as you eye your colleagues bedroom. She had her curtains closed and her lights turned off, the only light source being the LED strips that were plastered around her walls. You always liked the vibe of that room, with all the cool movie and band posters plastered on the wall, the CDs and her CRT TV with an old gaming console. Today, however, it was really messy, with her clothes thrown all around her room. You could barely see the weights and yoga mat she was previously training with.

"Oh, crap. It 's five already?" she lands her right hand on her hip, looking up for a bit as if trying to predict the time.

"Nah, I ended up a bit early today. I thought it would be best to tell you, in case you were free." you scratch your head, embarrassed. With all the times you ended your sessions early you would think Anna would be used to it by now.

"Ah, right. Well, I'm kind of in the middle of something at the moment" she points back at the region where you spotted her gym equipment earlier, apparently not bothered with showing off her bedroom in the state it was in.

"I bet you are. Sorry, didn't want to disturb your exercise time or anything." you sigh, looking away.

"Don't worry about it. I'll get back to it before five, then." she mentions to close her door and you start to walk away, but she opens it quickly again, remembering something. "Hey, by the way. The guys and I are catching a movie this Saturday. Eight p.m, if you are up for it."

"I don't know…" you look to your feet, a sense of dread looming over you.

"'Cmon Sam, it's the new Dolan movie! The one we were talking about!" she says, swaying from side to side. She is clearly excited about this.

"I got so much stuff to do, though. There are these tests coming up, and Saturday is my patrol day…"

"I get it. 'Work' comes first, right?" she lets out a fake laugh, deflated and clearly disappointed. "Thanks for the heads up about Emma, I guess."

"Wait, Anna!" you try to stop her, realizing the state you put her in, but she slams the door on your face. You close your hands into fists, ready to punch a wall out of all your bottled up frustration, but you catch yourself, breathing deeply and letting out a long sigh. It feels as if the entire Empire State has fallen over you, exerting every muscle in your body and sending you into a deep tired state. You resume your walk to your room.

On your way, you remember how you met Anna. You were the second troubled kid who Emma reached out to. Anna, or Rogue, was the first. In many ways you saw yourself in her. The music she likes, the movies and games she is addicted to. It's all stuff you also enjoy. Then there is the fact that neither of you are very fond of people, per say. Somehow, though, she never seemed to mind your presence, and you appreciated hers a lot. You spent countless hours listening to music and watching movies together, most of those being in complete silence. You always felt like either of you would break at any point, spilling all the beans about either of your mysterious, screwed up lives. But you never did. Apparently, silence was as much of a big part of your relationship as you yourselves. For better, or for worse.

You arrive at your bedroom, and jump face-first on your bed. The sudden tiredness was not unusual, just something that came with the territory and that you had to deal with. It happened every day at the same time, more or less. Like a scheduled date, some would say. You get up, removing your shoes. You may be too drowsy to undress, but shoes on your bed would be a little too much. You lie, looking up into your ceiling.

There were numerous glow in the dark stars distributed above your bed. Nothing you had put there by yourself, mind you. As with almost everything in your room, it came with it. Your blue walls, your uncomfortable bed, the old dresser and the wobbly wooden table were already there when you got the room. You like to think what kind of kid used to live there, what kind of life they went on to have. You like to think they are happy, with a big family and children of their own. Well, at least someone got to be happy.

You smile, dreaming about a life you would never have. A life surrounded by people you love, living in a normal house with a normal family. A life so mundane but yet so foreigner to you. You smile, imagining yourself in that kid's spot. Every single friend you have arrives for a Sunday barbecue to watch the big game. They are all happy, smiling. Your wife calls for you to help with the roast from the kitchen. You meet her green eyes and you give her the most passionate kiss of your life. Your kids surround you, hugging your legs while spitting nonsense interspaced with "daddy" and "mommy". You lose yourself in her eyes. Everything is perfect. Everything is normal.

"I love you, Isla." you say. Your stomach flutters when you mutter those words. You should be happy, but you are not. You love her, but you will never be with her. You made a deal with the Devil, and she was the price. A deal that you pay every night. And every night, at 5 P.M, the Devil comes knocking to collect their dues.