Chapter Text
Blades of grass whispered against Wednesday’s bare shins as she walked beside the empty highway, uncharacteristically clad in what one could generously call a summer dress. Unbothered by the cool air caressing her corpse-pale skin, she continued on.
It was late, very late.
And she was alone.
Her hair, for once free from its usual braids, gleamed like the wing of a raven as it cascaded down her back in gentle waves. Wednesday’s airy black dress fluttered in the cool wind, but she determinedly strode forward towards her goal, uncaring of the dangers of the night.
She looked like a lure not many would be able to resist. The veritable virgin sacrifice. The only thing missing was an altar for the poor, unfortunate maiden to be sacrificed on, and a vicious monster to be sacrificed to.
But that would come. They always did.
Yet it remained somewhat sad, Wednesday mused, that there was no mythical monster here, nor any hapless virgins ready to be sacrificed. Only reality.
And sometimes, sometimes reality really was the cruelest thing of all.
“Stars, hide your fires. Let not light see my black and deep desires.” Wednesday murmured under her breath, her dark eyes gleaming sinisterly.
The long stretch of the highway stood empty beside her, but she didn’t care. Her vision had shown her hints of what was coming tonight. There would be someone who was willing to help her soon enough.
This highway was her hunting ground.
And tonight, Wednesday hunted a very specific type of prey.
Over the years, she’d honed her power as a Raven and it’d shown her what she wanted to know. There would be no good Samaritan on the road this evening, picking up the naive hitchhiking girl. But there would be someone else, someone who thought that just because she was a girl, she was easy prey.
And there would be no naive girl.
She didn’t hunt the innocent. Even her warped morals couldn’t allow that. Then again, what was morality but a social construct? And Wednesday - nor any Addams - had ever been content just following along.
It has been six years since she first started walking this road. Six years since she got that first vision that showed her the path to soothe the damned restlessness brewing underneath her skin. It showed her a new goal, her calling.
Six years, six nights, six men.
At least on this particular road.
High school had exposed Wednesday the cruelty and the sickening entitlement her species was capable of, unimaginative as it often was. But it was after she’d been expelled for the sixth time in five years that she learned some people didn’t deserve the very air they breathed.
One vision was all it took.
Stomping her way out from the principal's office, Wednesday had brushed against one of the fathers of the school's swim team. The man in question had been nothing remarkable. Just another wealthy, overly-groomed man with a poorly concealed sense of self-importance.
One vision, one terrible fate of a girl she had never met and two for whom it was already too late. A fate that she could change, should she dare.
Wednesday dared.
And with that, her own future changed. There would be no Nevermore for her anymore. She would never step foot in Jericho. Never explore the woods there or sample from the horrific place her parents couldn’t stop cooing about, the place that birthed their great romance.
She would never lay eyes on Nevermore's famed library, which might be the only thing that made her little black heart twinge with something that might be called regret.
Only a little though.
Wednesday didn't often bother with useless emotions like regret. Over the years, she’d trained her body and mind into the sharpest of tools. She didn’t need anything or anyone. She was a hunter of the highest calibre, a shark in a world full of fish.
Wednesday didn’t cry, and she didn’t regret.
And she certainly didn't regret escaping the mold her parents wished for her. Nevermore and its plebian mysteries were not for her. Wednesday was a predator, a solitary one.
She continued on, walking towards where her vision had led her. Glancing at the bushes she could see coming up, she knew she was close to the right spot. The vision had shown her the exact spot where her next prey would show himself. She knew this road, knew every crack, bump and bush. She was close.
In the deep, ominous darkness, a twig snapped, and Wednesday scowled, suspicious.
“If that’s you, Pugsley-” she trailed off threateningly, letting his mind do her work for her. But her weak - if annoyingly tall - little brother did not come shuffling out of the shadows, and Wednesday conceded it had probably been nothing.
She tilted her head, and closed her eyes, casting out her psychic senses for a hint as to what was out there. However she loved the tortuous feel of a vision, sometimes Wednesday wished for the vicious potential of Pugley’s Spark ability.
Alas, where Pugsley took after their father and uncle’s side of the family, Wednesday had inherited their mother’s psychic power.
A raven cawed its victory, and Wednesday shifted her stance into something a little more relaxed. Just a bird. A raven, even. The eerie sound had always soothed her, and this time was no different. A good sign, she decided firmly.
And with one last glance at the dark-feathered Corvus, Wednesday continued on.
Her dress fluttered in the cold breeze, but she didn’t care. The cold rarely bothered her and besides, soon Wednesday would be anything but cold.
Her dress would be ruined though.
Pity.
Her parents despaired beautifully, so very proud of the path their little viper was set to walk that her mother had gifted Wednesday a whole new wardrobe to follow her passion. A whole closet filled with airy slips and summer dresses, many almost-indecent tops and shorts, all in her favorite color. Lace, silk and velvet.
And worst of all: chiffon.
But it did its job well.
Even now she could sense the sickening feel of their pride wrapping around her, lovingly choking her. Because she’d found her passion, and because Wednesday Addams had become the living embodiment of their creed.
Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc.
We gladly feast on those who would subdue us.
And she would. For those who could not protect themselves, Wednesday would feast. She would revel and relish and desecrate. She would become the sword of justice, and hunt those who thought themselves the hunter.
How?
Well, that was easier than she could have ever imagined.
She just had to stick out her thumb.
And arrogant as they all were, they would let her in their cars. Because why wouldn’t they? The night was theirs. They were the hunters, the big strong men. Nothing would hurt them, certainly not her. She was just a petite girl in a pretty dress, walking where she probably shouldn’t. She posed no danger to them.
Glancing up at the moon, Wednesday smiled. It was time.
Right on cue, headlights came up from behind her. Wednesday stopped to stick out a deceptively dainty hand, her thumb raised upwards and a tiny smile curling around her mouth. She kept her expression open, knowing that her usual deadpan look would only make things more difficult.
Wednesday didn’t smile, wouldn’t fake that even for this, but she softened her facial muscles and widened her eyes in a good imitation of one.
She looked innocent, she knew. Harmless. Virginal, even.
At the age of twenty, Wednesday knew she appeared younger than she actually was. Delicate.
Especially in this infernal dress.
Too clean to be a runaway, but exactly like a lost teenager out where she really shouldn’t be. The perfect victim for those who roamed at night with less than pure intentions on their mind. Just a pretty girl, alone and in desperate need of help.
A faded red pick-up truck stopped beside her, the window lowering.
“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A smoke-rough voice drawled through the hastily opened window.
Her smile widened.