Bitterly Beautiful II Part 1: Back Like Eye Never Left
“It's been an eventful summer.”
Wednesday Addams awakens inside a Killers very uncomfortable basement, a gag in her mouth, bound to a chair with Priceline dolls eyeing her. She’s sitting at the head of a table, with dolls all adored by her, their cold, blank eyes all locking towards her.
“I'm tied up in a serial killer's basement. Who said nightmares don't come true? He's under the delusion that I'm his next victim. I'll let him cherish that notion while I explain my predicament. I spent my vacation mastering my psychic ability. All the answers were in Goody's book of spells. With my ability now under control, I set my sights on an obsession I've had since I was six years old:
The Kansas City Scalper, America's most elusive serial killer.
To psychically locate him, all I needed was an object from one of his crime scenes. Funny enough, The Scalper's 11th victim dropped her prized bowling ball when she was snatched. Thing has his uses. With the Scalper finally in my crosshairs, I had one final harrowing obstacle to overcome..
The TSA.
Wednesday, all by her lonesome placed her bag in the tray and stepped through the metal detector which obviously went off, one of the Agent gives her a glare and Wednesday pulls out Brass Knuckles and places them in the bin.
“Anything else on your person?” They ask.
Wednesday reluctantly puts away a knife, scissors, taser, machete, gothic themed pizza cutter, more knives. A cane sword, The agent looks at Wednesday as she finally takes all of her weapons out.
“Which part of "prohibited items" don't you understand, young lady?”
“The part where you believe cramming hundreds of people into a metal tube flying through the air creates some sort of utopia where weapons aren't needed.”
The man Rolls his eyes in response to her quip and turns to the others.
“Can we get a bag check?”
Her Bag goes though the X-Ray and something picks the interest of the agents, funny enough, thing was tagging a long. Which made it seem like Wednesday had a Severed hand in her bag, which.. she did. The man opens the case and grabs thing, looking at Wednesday.
“I'm headed to the Junior Embalmers Convention in Kansas City. It's a prosthetic hand.” She said, the man shook his head.
“Yeah, that's not the problem. You care to explain this?” He places thing down and grabs a small body of, sunscreen lotion.
“Curious.” Wednesday said, clenching her jaw as her eyes shift to thing.
“I have no idea how that ended up there.”
“This is over 3.4 ounces, which means it's a big no-no. I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste our time.”
“Right..” Wednesday, after the little tussle she gets to Kansas, and unfortunately, or fortunately depending on your viewpoint, Wednesday was captured by the killer. And she once again, awakens in the Basement, the old, heavy door opens and a large, disheveled man crept out, his eyes slowly move to Wednesday. The man oddly enough looks like Haley Joel Osment, funny he was in a film called A.I. and perhaps Wednesday’s sixth sense is telling her to off him.
The Scalper leans down near Wednesday.
“I made you a gift.” He said, and reveals it, to be a doll, just like the others, but it’s oddly enough much in her likeness.
“It's how I remember all my... special guests.” He said, Wednesday spits out the gag
“Let me show you some of my own handiwork.” She replied, the scalper turns to one of the dolls as it creaks, and he watches as its head, turns to him. From the doll thing bursts from it and grabs the face of the scalper who’s having a panic attack trying to fight thing off. Wednesday casually begins to untie herself as the scalper flails around. As he realizes he’s far, far out of his league it was already over, Wednesday stood over him with a knife, and an, uncomfortable grin.
“Now. Let's play dolls.”
The Scalper was apprehend somehow, by a mysterious girl and is serving multiple life sentences, or death, whichever he prefers. But unfortunately for Wednesday her summer break ends, which means back to school.
“This is the first time you've ever willingly returned to a school, How does it feel?”
Outside Nevermore, a black car pulls into the driveway of Nevermore, and the famous, or infamous, Addams Family arrives.
“Like returning to the scene of the crime.
I already know where the bodies are buried. No more uncontrolled chaos. I will bend this place to my will.” Wednesday says to her mother.
“Be careful, dear. Control is often an illusion.
Like I let your father believe he's in charge of this family.” Her mother, Morticia said, the much more grown Pugsley, now a fond member of Nevermore himself looks to his father Gomez.
“Do you think I'll actually make a friend here?” Pugsley asks his father, Gomez.
“You'll make lots of friends. These are our people.” Gomez says, as the women of the Addams family watch.
“Poor Pugsley. Your father and I will get him settled in. Promise me... you will take care of your brother.”
“I always do.” Wednesday replied, she and Pugsley walk to the Quad and she gives him a sharp rundown.
“Here are the ground rules. No eye contact without permission. Bullying assistance requests must be submitted through writing. And Thing reports to me. Understand?” She says, before he can reply, Wednesday noticed the, eyes.. people watching, talking.
“Wednesday!”
“There she is!”
“Right there, in black!”
A set of four Nevermore girls approach her.
“Can I get your autograph?” One asks.
“I only sign my name in blood.” Wednesday replied
“I would expect nothing less.”
“I never said it was my own blood.” Wednesday fired back again, but it actually was accepted by the girls who giggled. Which even creeps her out, Bianca, ever the idealist uses her power and speaks to the minds of the girls.
“You are done here, Shoo.” She said, using her siren powers, the girls leave.
“That was disturbing.” Wednesday said.
“You better get used to it. You and (Y/n) are a big deal after the whole saving the school from the demon pilgrim thing.”
“Why does anyone still care?” Wednesday asks.
“You're not much of a clout chaser, are you?”
“Popularity doesn't play by the laws of physics. The harder you repel it, the harder it comes for you.” Bianca said, and unfortunately it wasn’t just students.
“Wednesday Addams!” A voice called out, Wednesday turns to a man, dressed in Nevermore purple with an odd mustache and hair.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh! It is an honor to meet one the saviors of Nevermore. Allow me to introduce myself. Barry Dort, your new principal. Um...Would you like a sticker?”
“Only if you have one that says "do not resuscitate."
“There's that wicked tongue I've heard about. I love it. I am reinstating the Founder's Pyre ceremony. It's an old Outcast tradition. Big bonfire. Tomorrow night. And the best part is, I want you to be our student of honor, Mr Healy hasn’t arrived yet unfortunately.”
“I'd rather be burned at the stake.”
“Aw! Please consider it. I want us to be allies in this struggle.”
“What struggle?”
“Returning Nevermore to its glory days.
I hate to speak ill of the dead, but in this case, Weems really fudged up.”
“I don't like to speak ill of the dead either. It's much more fun to demonize the living, and you said (Y/n) hasn’t arrived yet? Why?”
Suddenly, Crows Caw, Wednesday looks up to see a few swirling the sky, The cawing of crows grows louder until the sky erupts into a black storm of wings. They swirl in a perfect spiral over the Quad of Nevermore before diving down toward the courtyard.
“Much like you, my love..”
The murder of crows lands in a tight formation — when the wings fold, Mr Healy is standing there in their place, his long coat swaying in the morning wind, hair slightly ruffled from the journey. He adjusts his glasses as he taps his cane.
“I love to make an entrance.” He said with that classic smile, students watch as he chuckled, he looked back somehow to his bags behind him and then turned back and towards the ground.
“Crom… grab my bags, will you?” He asked, Wednesday watched as A shadow at his feet begins to move independently of his body. It stretches unnaturally, writhing like spilled ink before taking form — the height of a giant, but impossibly thin, with limbs that seem too long to belong in this world, the beast sits up and takes form, he takes the bag and slowly walks away with them. (Y/n) approaches Wednesday and gives a short bow.
“My love.” He said, Wednesday stood tall. “I can see you made an entrance to placate our new cult. “I don’t see a problem with people thinking we’re amazing.” He offered his hand, Wednesday took it and he leans and gently kissed her palm. A few whistles and “Oos” erupt from the students and Wednesday quickly pulls back.
“Not here, we agreed—“
“I know, I apologize but, you never called.. or, even attempted to text me. I did get your letters, a bit hard to get translated.”
“I find modern technology—“
“To be a soulless pathology of human behavior to a waste.” I know my dear, so shall we?” He walks forward, the tap of his cane against the cobblestone.
“You didn’t write back.” Wednesday says
“I did. The demon ate the letter.”
“Convenient excuse.”
“You’re one to talk. I heard you spent your summer hunting.”
“Research.”
“On?” He replied smirking.
“A serial killer.” She admits.
“Convenient, would I have to start hiding bodies so you’ll notice me?~” He says jokingly, “Shut up.” She replied.
The Dastardly Duo reach Wednesdays Dorm room and open it up, and came to a literal nightmare. Fellow students everywhere, swapping spit and howling, Wednesday was the first to enter. And was greeted by the one and only, new wolf out queen, Enid Sinclair!
“Howdy, roomie!” She said.
“Enid.” Wednesday replied.
“All right! Everyone out. Thanks for the help.” She said, the Wolves depart, talking and chatting, and Enid turns to Wednesday.
“How was your vacay? Because I had the best summer ever, and I've been dying to tell you all about it.”
As this happens, another enters, (Y/n) looks around.
“I could smell the fur from down the hall. I see you have a pack now.” He smiled. Before (Y/n) can make another joke, Enid barrels into him, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing hug. His cane wobbles but he holds on, laughing.
“Careful, Enid… bones are a limited resource.”
“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Enid whined.
“Been a few months.” He said. “But seasons do fly by.” He admits, Enid lets her bestie go finally.
“Did you bring me something?”
“I did.” He said and showed her a box, Enid it took it and carefully opened it and saw a silver charm bracelet. “All genuine Irish Silver, totally not robbed from someone dead.”
“Oh, M, G! It goes with my eyes, how did you know?”
“It’s a Secret. And for My Dear Wednesday.” He reaches into his back pocket to a smaller box, rectangle, she took it and opened it to a pen, old, made of wood.
“Wooden Pen, Simple.”
“Yes, it’s made from Wood of one of Cailleach’s trees.”
A beat of silence from both women, (Y/n) sighs. “The ancient hag goddess of winter, death, and fate, She planted seven dark yew trees on burial grounds across Ireland. Each one was fed with the blood of a sacrifice every Samhain, also known as Halloween, to keep its power alive. One such tree, this one— is known as Crann na nAmadán. It grew on a hill where traitors and oath-breakers were executed. Locals whispered that if you pressed your ear to its bark, you could hear the condemned muttering their final regrets.” He said, Wednesday leaned the pen to her ear and the faint whisper of despair creeps into her ear, and an uncomfortable smirk along her face.
“That reminds me! I did get you two gifts at Lupinpalooza in Golden Gate Park. Don't worry. It's not a snood.” Enid shows two shirts, one was a beautiful graphic of a parody of Beowulf’s literacy.
“Get it? Like Beowulf? I thought you'd love the literary reference.”
“Nothing like a bad pun to throw dirt on the coffin of epic poetry.” Wednesday says, but (Y/n) tilts his head. “And mine?”
Wednesday hesitates, “It’s.. of a rat, which says “Countless Horrors await, yet I remain faithful to the cheese.”
(Y/n) said nothing, There’s a beat of silence. Then he starts chuckling. Then laughing harder. Then it spirals into this half-wheeze, half-cackle, like he’s remembering every cursed thing he’s seen in his life and applying it to the stupid rat.
“Enid, thank you.” He said wiping a tear from his glasses, he walks over as the girls talk. Enid began to drone on about her vacay, Wednesday’s attention, however, had drifted. She glanced over Enid’s shoulder and froze. (Y/n) was pulling off his shirt behind her, unaware of her gaze. The scars and wounds from Thornhill were visible on his back, bullet holes that have healed thankfully, but underneath them in the front, his abs were perfectly defined—strong and unblemished except for the occasional faint mark.
Enid, mid-sentence, didn’t notice Wednesday’s distraction at first. “—and I thought it might—Wednesday? You’re not listening.”
Wednesday blinked, and quickly changed the subject. “I got you a gift as well. From my summer travels.”
Wednesday gives Enid her gift, a bit, excitedly. It was a doll that had a slight resembling to Enid.
“Uh... Oh. Thank you. I mean, it is a little creepy, but, um, the curls are super soft.”
“It's made from real human hair.”
Enid puts the Doll away and the Three finally get a chance to talk.
“I just have so many goals this year. I wanna secure my place in the pack, become dance troupe captain, and finally join the Nightshades.”
“What about you two?”
“Avoid people and work on my new Viper de la Muerte novel.”
“Doesn't sound like much of a personal evolution.”
“I don't evolve. I cocoon.”
“Sounds like you, I on the other hand have one goal, become King. People already worship the ground I walk on here.”
“Because your eyes vaporized crsckstone.” Wednesday said flatly.
“And Thornhill and saved your life— also where’s my gift—“
“Speaking of your novel, was that publisher interested?” Enid cut though, taking more of an assertion.
“I call it death by a thousand notes.” Wednesday reveals to Enid the manuscript, having many red edits.
“Ooh... This one here just looks like a typo.” Enid said.
“It's not. That's the Old English spelling for dismemberment.”
“desmembrer.” If I do recall.” (Y/n) chimed in.
“This novel was two years of my life.!They'll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands before I change a single word.”
There was a knocking at door. (Y/n) walked to the door with his new rat shirt on.
“That better not be any more brattish autograph hounds.” Wednesday frowns.
“Tell me about it. We seriously need to set some boundaries. Let's post hours to sign stuff in the student lounge.” Enid said, (Y/n) opens the door and spots Ajax, before he can even say anything, Enid quickly cowers behind the door, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow as Ajax Saw (Y/n) and Wednesday.
“Hi, Wednesday, (Y/n) How was your summers?”
“I scalped a serial killer.”
“I.. made pottery..” (Y/n) said.
“Is, uh... Is Enid around?” He asked, (Y/n) heard Enid’s heart pick up and wanted to ask but Wednesday came in.
“She left earlier with the pack. I threatened to neuter them if they didn't get out.” She said.
“Well, would you mind giving her this?” Ajax hands (Y/n) a Stuffed unicorn. He looks down and feels it. “Uh yeah I’ll give her this spleen.”
“It’s.. not a.. yeah, thanks man.” Ajax left as Enid sighs stepping from the door and taking the unicorn.
“Thanks for covering. I know the only thing you hate more than color is relationship drama.”
“Machiavelli once said that friendship is watching a person's slow drip of miseries and feeling honored to be present for their most dismal moments.” Wednesday said.
“Does that mean...” Enid muttered and (Y/n) loudly clears his throat. He sits on Enid’s bed and pats the side.
“Alright let’s hear it. Edgar Allen Poe once said Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality. So let’s hear your Dating Drama.”
“In 25 words or less. Go.” Wednesday adds in.
“I'm not sure how I feel about Ajax anymore.
He's sweet and cute, but he's still in love with the old me, and I've changed. Hey, look at that. Exactly 25 words.”
“Talk to him and get it over with.” Wednesday says, (Y/n) nods.
“Just say you aren’t feeling that connection, you’ve grown into a, young woman and Ajax is… Ajax. It happens.”
“But, how do you two do it? You two are literally perfect for each other.” She said, Wednesday folds her arms and a sly grin creeps along (Y/n)’s face.
She looked at Enid with her usual deadpan expression. “We’re not perfect. We just… understand each other in a way most people don’t.”
“Exactly, there’s no such thing as perfect we just, mesh well, I love Wednesday for who she is, not who she used to be.”
“And I tolerate (Y/n) for his actual good qualities.”
“Love you too Babe… so just be upfront with the man.” (Y/n) stands up to walk to the wall “If not, you’ll be stuck in an endless well.”
“If I do that, then it'll be like an arrow through his—“ Wednesday opens her closet and a mechanical ting echoes, a crossbow set up fires from it. The bolt whizzes to (Y/n) and without breaking his focus on Enid pulls his arm up and catches the bolt. (Y/n) looks at it, confused. Wednesday noticed something attached to it, a photo.
“What is it?” He asks.
“Those old Polaroid.” Enid said.
“A, Polaroid? You know what a Polaroid is?” (Y/n) replied
“Yeah, I was going though a 90’s aesthetic phase.. don’t judge.” Enid said.
"Welcome back, Wednesday. I'm still watching." Wednesday reads the writing under it, and the photo was of (Y/n) Kissing her hand this morning.
“Wait. You have a stalker?” (Y/n) said.
“Don't be jealous.” Wednesday replied, she grips the photo and concentrates, then images of the past flash in her head, Enid watches as, something black leaks from Wednesdays eye.
“I didn't see the stalker.” She said, Enid notices the leaking blood.
“You've got a little something.” Enid says, and Wednesday wiped her cheek, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow.
“Got a little what?”
“It's nothing.”
Wednesday leaves, (Y/n) turns to Enid and follows Wednesday as she walks back.
“You’re hiding something again.” He starts.
“I hide many things. You’ll have to be more specific.” Wednesday replied avoiding his face.
“When it happens… your breathing changes. I can hear it. And afterwards, you act like nothing’s wrong. But something is. You need to be honest with me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. My visions are unpleasant, but they’ve always been that way.”
“Wednesday……if it’s hurting you, I want to know. We made a promise, be honest if something bothers you.. is it the Stalker?” He asks. They stop walking and stand in a long hallway.
“This stalker does not bother me.”
“And why not?”
“I doubt they have capabilities to hurt me, and besides, if it were to occur I know you’d end up vaporizing them for me.. I’d do the same for you.” Wednesday said and for a moment she seems, human and (y/n) clears his throat and nods. “Of course, I love you Wednesday.”
Before she can reply he gently takes her hand. “You don’t have to say it back, I know you do.” (Y/n) walks the opposite direction as she watches him go, she tries to clear her head and go with her family. (Y/n) was enjoying the Nevermore air outside, but a distant wail of a siren catches his ear. Just as he comes back, something happens. He approaches from the wood to sense the crime scene, crows, many of his.. he heard the talking of two officers.
“The victim's Carl Bradbury, local private investigator. Real sleaze. Witnesses are Greg Mulligan and Debbie Prizeman. Greg's the manager of the Piggly Wiggly and Debbie's one of his cashiers.”
“So Bradbury was out here catching our supermarket sweethearts in a tryst, when he got attacked by a squad of kamikaze crows.”
“Get the body to the morgue before he gets ripe.” Another officer said, a black woman who used to be the secondary deputy to the former, Tyler’s Father. She senses an unease and turned around to (Y/n) kneeling, looking at the crows.
“(Y/n), can I help you?”
“Just admiring the view, Sheriff Santiago is it now?”
“I promise to be better than my predecessor.”
“Isn’t saying much but, thank you.. these crows.”
“What about them?”
“They’re… sick, this wasn’t a natural killing, something or someone..” he droned on but, stood up, using his sensory he felt unease again. Someone was watching from the Woods, (Y/n) jerked his head in the direction and the figure ran off.
They assumed they had gotten far but even for a blind man, (Y/n) is quite skillful, a root appears and trips the man hard. (Y/n) casually strolls over and grips his cane, that groan of Pain was, familiar.
“Galpin? What are you doing here?” He asked.
“The victim was a friend of mine. Carl Bradbury. We were working a case together, and that's what got him killed.”
“Okay, what case?” (Y/n) asked.
“Bradbury stumbled onto something. Said it could affect Outcasts.!We're starting to scratch the surface.”
“Oh, You care about Outcasts now?”
“My son is an Outcast.” He said, (Y/n) gripped his cane: “Yeah, I know what he's done, but—“
“Your son, Tyler? Would that be the same Tyler that killed all those people? That same Tyler who tried to Kill Eugene? The same Tyler who tried to Kill me? Wednesday?! Enid?!” (Y/n) was raising his voice, stepping closer.
“Ms. Thornhill, she turned him into a monster.”
“Tyler was always a monster, Thornhill just manipulated the monster.”
“I could use your help getting to the bottom of this. You didn't just wind up at that crime scene by accident, Healy. You were drawn to it like a moth to a flame.” Galpin says.
“…I understand your need to protect your son, it’s what any dad would do, but your son got everything that was coming to him.” (Y/n) turns to leave.
“If you change your mind, you come find me. Just remember... the birds are always watching.” Galpin leaves as (Y/n) looks up, the caws of crows. They aren’t responding to his calls, something truly is wrong.
(Y/n) returns back to the Dorm at night, all of this is itching the back of his head. The stalker, the killing, the crows, maybe he should speak to the one person who knows and understands this weird world: Wednesday.
He enters the dorm at the worst time, Wednesday was hovering over her typewriter. “Have you been using my typewriter without permission?” She said accusatory to Enid, both girls see the door open and (Y/n) there. Before she can accuse him he points to his face, specifically the glasses. Wednesday looks at the typewriter and finds a message.
"Read any good books lately?" It said, Wednesday checks the drawer and notices it.
“My novel. It's gone.” She checks the second drawer and another written message awaits.
"Higher, higher, higher, I am demon of the fire, and each blazing roof's my pyre!" My stalker's going to burn my manuscript at the Founder's Pyre.”
“I mean, that’s fine right? That's not your only copy, right?” (Y/n) said, the silence was, palpable. (Y/n) frowns and walks to the door.
“Let’s go get your script.”
The Nevermore Trio arrives at the Pyre, students gather, talk, chat, teachers alike. The pyre was shaped of a raven, ready to be lit ablaze.
“The stalker is here. Be on the lookout for anyone watching us.” Wednesday says, and walks off, leaving the Dynamic duo of (Y/n) and Enid.
“I mean, Who isn't watching us?” He points out, and both were quickly accosted by students wanting pictures. (Y/n) slips away, and follows Wednesday to the Pyre as she’s reading.
“Another Letter?” He asks.
"If you don't want your novel to go up in smoke, meet me under the pyre. P.S. I found a few more typos." Wednesday kneels down and starts removing sticks and (Y/n) grabs her arm.
“Wednesday! What are you doing?”
“Getting my Novel and crucifying the person who took it.”
“By crawling under a pile of wood they’re about set on fire?! Does this not sound like a trap?”
As (Y/n) and Wednesday argue, Enid spots them and walks over but Ajax finally spots her.
“Hey! Enid.” He starts, a bit surprised she quickly turns.
“Ajax. Hi.”
“What's going on? Hey, you kind of ghosted me this summer. I texted a bunch. I left a crazy number of voicemails.”
“Ah... Sorry. My bad. Wolf Camp was strictly device-free. I was unplugged for a whole month. Can you believe it? I think I have PTSD.”
“We've been back two days. It kind of feels like you've been avoiding me.”
“Uh, well, I've been busy with the pack, and you have your RA thing. Plus I've got the Wednesday factor, and she never disappoints.”
(Y/n) taps his foot, Wednesday has been gone for a minute and worry creeps in. The sounds nearly overloading his senses. He sighs, drops his cane and takes off his coat, he rolls up his sleeves and Bear crawls to through the hole to follow Wednesday. As he crept through the splinters and dirt. A sudden heat washed though the pyre, and (Y/n) knew that meant trouble.
“Wednesday… Wednesday!” He calls out, silence. The fire crackles violently, sparks showering down as wood collapses. He doesn’t hesitate. Burning eyes closed, his face streaked with soot, he crawls on hands and knees under the splintering beams. Heat scorches his skin instantly, singeing his clothes, but he presses forward, coughing as smoke hits his lungs.
The world is reduced to fire and suffocation—the roar of the flames, the choking smoke clawing at his lungs, the blistering pain across his hands as he drags himself deeper.
“Answer me… please—!”
His fingers scrape over splintered boards and ash. He can’t see, but he feels—desperately—searching with his palms, tracing broken wood and fallen debris, pushing aside burning chunks even as they sear him.
Then—he catches it. The faintest brush of fabric. Her coat.
With a guttural cry, he lunges forward, pulling Wednesday’s limp form against his chest. He feels her, she held on to her book for dear life. Her determination was, impressive. The fire howls around them, collapsing timbers showering sparks across his back, but he shields her with his own body, but had an option. Reaching for the ground he grabbed a piece of wood. He dropped it as a part singed his finger but picked it up from another angle.
He quickly lies Wednesday down and traces a circle in the burning ground. He pulls a small blade from his belt — his hand steady despite the chaos — and drags it across his palm. Blood wells instantly. He clenches hard and blood drops down on Wednesday as he whispers.
“Fuil is tine, cosain sinn. Ciorcal na bhfear, ciorcal na n-anam. Ná lig bás teacht.”
The flames dance along the pyre until Enid sees the feint of the pile break open, the heat forcing the wood to splinter and an epic unfolds, (Y/n) and Wednesday walk out of the fire unharmed. Wednesday clutching her Novel. Like a pair of phoenixes reborn from the flames of desperation.
“Our students of honor, (Y/n) Healy and Wednesday Addams! None of us would be here today without your bravery.” The Nee Principal smiles.
“Wednesday, would you help me unveil something very special? I had this commissioned to commemorate how you and your ragtag group of Nevermore buddies saved our school!” He unveils a painting, of the group who saved Nevermore and specifically, had Wednesday smiling.
“Could you give us a few words of inspiration to launch us into the new era?” He hands her the Mic and (Y/n) leans to Wednesday.
“You’re up champ. I think I’ve been on the grill too long.” He steps back and claps for his girlfriend as people chant.
“Wednesday! Wednesday! Wednesday! Wednesday!” The crowd chants. She grabs the mic and looks out to the valley of people.
“Tonight...”
“Yeah!”
“...is our banquet of discontent. And we shall gladly feast on those who would subdue us. Our fight is just beginning. And I'm ripping the Band-Aid off the scab of civility, and will not cease until our enemies have been vanquished! And by enemies, I mean any imbecile stupid enough to cheer on some shallow, rabble-rousing diatribe like that.” Which lead to a few confused looks by others.
“You thought I was your hero? I'm not. I always play dirty, and I never fight fair. The only side I'm on is my own, and the only place I'll lead you is off a cliff. So do not put me on a pedestal, because I will burn it down.” Wednesday literally Drops the Mic and walked off, and Enid gave chase. (Y/n) sighs. “And there she goes, (Y/n) sits down near the stand as Enid and Wednesday depart though the crowd. I think he’s been through enough today.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I never agreed to this.”
“So you're going to torpedo it for us? You're my best friend, but can you be less Wednesday? This is supposed to be our best year ever! Wednesday, will you wait up?”
Enid grabs Wednesday to slow her down, only for a macabre of pain to shoot through Wednesday. As she has another painful vision, standing at a grave. She looks down at the name and what she saw she couldn’t understand.
Here Lies: Enid Sinclair.
Wednesday turned around saw Enid, blood on her face, broken and in pain, but her eyes locked onto hers
“This is all your fault, Wednesday. This is all your fault. I died because of you.
I died because of you!”
Wednesday roughly awakens from what seems to be the most painful vision yet, a harrowing experience of what’s to come.