[center][h3][color=0072bc]Andrew[/color] | [color=ffcc00]Wade[/color][/h3][/center]
To say the past few days had not been traumatic for young Andrew Wilson would have been a bold-faced lie. The dramatic decline in his performance at school coupled with multiple visits with psychologists, family counselors, and child services throughout the past month had built up so much anxiety within the boy he could barely function. Life hadn't been normal ever since his parents separated, and had only gotten worse from that point on. His mother worked overtime to support them and he saw less of her than ever as he was passed around through various daycares and after school activities that he hated. He was perfectly fine left alone in their home--now an apartment in the inner city--but people tend to frown upon such practices and put labels such as "neglect" and "bad parenting" on them and that just ruined everything. Andrew didn't know much about the law, but he did know those days when his mother couldn't send him to daycare and he amused himself at home playing video games or comic books or otherwise avoiding his homework for upwards of eight to ten hours a day was not legal. Instead of feeling neglected, he just felt like a burden to his mother, and no longer asked anything of her so that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be so tired anymore. Of course, he knew she loved him, but in Andrew's mind that love was conditional and had limits.

His father was another story. Andrew hadn't seen him in almost a year. In spite of all the negative things mom muttered about him: "Useless drunk, loves liquor more than his own family, can't even pay child support." Andrew still loved his father, and had only happy memories of him. He knew he shouldn't, that maybe he should hate the man instead, but he couldn't bring himself to. He just wanted him to come home.  Now everything had really gone to hell. His teachers' concern about him talking to himself, and occasionally being able to see things he shouldn't be able to see, in addition to his poor behavior had led to him being forced to see several school counselors and therapists; all of whom concluded that the boy's unstable mindset was due to his parents inability to care for him. And now they'd taken him away, he didn't even know where to, hadn't even packed a suitcase. No clothes, not so much as a toothbrush, but he didn't really care if he never had to brush his teeth again.

He had cried a lot in the beginning, after climbing into an unmarked black car and realizing that it would be a one-way trip. He couldn't even look out the window and watch his mother, with tears in her eyes, fade away in the distance because the windows were blacked out. He'd thrown a tantrum then, first tears and then kicking and screaming, pounding on the doors and windows to no avail, and finally resigning himself to sobbing quietly while curled up on the back seat. The men in suits tried to be nice to him, but all attempts to get through to the boy were steadfastly ignored. [color=0072bc]"I wanna go home,"[/color] he whimpered into the leather seat cushion that was now streaked with tears and snot. [color=ffcc00][i]They're not going to let us. They're going to take us really far away and we'll never see mom or dad ever again probably.[/i][/color] 

[color=0072bc]"It's all my fault. It's because I kept getting into trouble at school and not doing my homework."[/color]

[color=ffcc00][i]And talking back to the teachers all the time, probably. We never bothered mom though.[/i][/color]

[color=0072bc]"It doesn't matter now, it's too late."[/color] Andrew realized he was talking to himself again, and that was one of the reasons he was currently in this situation. Maybe if he stopped talking to himself they'd let him go.

[color=ffcc00][i]Hey, we don't have to cry. Wade Wilson wouldn't cry, he'd just get ready to fight some bad guys. We'll just find a way to fight the bad guys so we can go home. Then we can make mom and dad get back together too, and everything will be perfect.[/i][/color]

Andrew nodded but didn't say anything in response to his thoughts. His thoughts would know anyway, and somehow the idea of being a hero and fighting bad guys made him feel a little better. It would be like that time Spider-Man got trapped on an airplane and ended up in South America. Andrew wasn't sure if he was going to South America, but if that were the case all he had to do was sneak on board a plane and fly back home. Simple enough.

Satisfied with this plan of action, his breathing evened and his clenched fists relaxed. Before he knew it, he'd fallen asleep.
[hr]
The next morning Andrew awoke in his own bed. He wrinkled his nose, pulling the covers over his head and burying his face further into the pillow as he recalled the nightmare he'd dreamt last night. Being taken away from home, never to see his parents again, and it was all his fault. It was just a dream, but it still made him feel guilty and awful. [color=ffcc00][i]Everything's our fault,[/i][/color] he thought grimly. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he could see that the bedcover he was burrowed under had an Avengers print. [color=0072bc]"That's neat…"[/color] he murmured, eyes fluttering sleepily. A few seconds later he bolted upright, realizing all at once that he did not own an Avengers comforter. [color=0072bc]"MOM!"[/color] he shrieked in a panic. He wasn't in his room, he wasn't at home, everything was different. [color=ffcc00][i]Guess it wasn't a dream after all.[/i][/color]

Andrew was on the verge of more tears when someone opened the door. A young woman with short dark hair and brown skin entered the room. She was dressed like a doctor and Andrew's heart sank down to his toes. Had they put him in a hospital? A nuthouse? Was he really crazy? She smiled at him. "Andrew, I'm Dr. Singh. I understand you must be very confused--"

[color=0072bc]"I want my mom,"[/color] he interrupted, and she hesitated.

"You can't see your mother right now, but--"

[color=0072bc]"I said I want my mom!"[/color] he shouted angrily, then bit his lip as his eyes began to water. He wouldn't cry anymore.

Dr. Singh's voice hardened. "No."

They regarded each other in sullen silence for several minutes.

"Andrew," she began again, but he interrupted again.

[color=0072bc]"My name's not Andrew, it's Wade. You've got the wrong person, so I guess you just have to let me go."[/color]

"I can't do that."

Defeated, Andrew stared numbly at the bedspread. He wished he could turn into the Hulk and smash right out of this place. Then no one could stop him. For the first time he started to notice other things in the room. There was a small table and a few comfy looking chairs, but what caught his eye was the bookshelf on the far wall. It was stocked full of comic books, even more than he had at home, and they were all brand-new. Some of them were even still wrapped in plastic. Well, at least if he was a prisoner here he wouldn't be bored. From what he could tell there were even some editions he hadn't read yet. In his mind's eye he saw Dr. Singh take a few steps closer to him. He turned and glared at her mistrustfully. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

He nodded, and she stepped outside the door for a moment, returning with a tray that she set on the table. On it was a box of FruitLoops, his favorite, along with a bowl, spoon, toast with grape jelly and even a quart of chocolate milk. His mom always thought he was weird for pouring chocolate milk on his cereal, but Andrew loved it. He wondered how Dr. Singh had known. Maybe she could read his mind. Reluctantly he climbed out of bed. He was still wearing his clothes from the previous day, and Dr. Singh pointed out a small chest of drawers and told him he could find clean clothes in there if he wanted. "All your questions will be answered soon," she promised as he settled down for breakfast. "I have to go for a little while, will you be okay?"

[color=ffcc00][i]Yeah, sure.[/i][/color] He just nodded. As soon as the door closed behind her he got up and went to the bookshelf, scanning the contents before pulling out an issue of Ultimate Spider-Man. He returned to the table and propped it behind the bowl of fruity-chocolate-milk-soaked cereal and started to read. For a moment, he almost felt like he was at home on a Saturday morning. Mom would still be asleep after working late, and he'd get his own breakfast and sit down with an issue to enjoy a relaxing morning. [color=ffcc00][i]Yeah, mom's just asleep right now. She might sleep right through till lunchtime but then she'll get up and make something for dinner. We'll just read until she wakes up.[/i][/color]