Chapter Text
Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.
A loud groan sounded through the room. “Oh my god, Addams, stop messing with that pen right now or I’ll rip it out of your hands myself.”
Wednesday Addams huffed, pointedly continuing to click the pen against the table. “As if you could, Tanaka.”
Yoko Tanaka rolled her eyes, going back to her work. “Your new partner arrives today, yeah? Are you gonna go wait for her downstairs, or…?”
“If she can’t even find her way here, she’s more useless than Dalton was. And that’s saying something.”
The vampire rolled her eyes again. “Don’t know why I expected anything different,” she muttered.
They continued to work in silence until twenty minutes past when the new hire was supposed to arrive. Wednesday let out an indifferent sigh. “Oh well. I suppose she realized that she isn’t up to the task. I told the chief I’m destined to work alone; now she’ll finally have to let me.”
Yoko opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a loud commotion downstairs. The two women looked at each other for a moment before silently going to investigate. It was their job, after all.
On the ground floor, a figure dressed in an ungodly amount of pink stood in the middle of the courtyard. Surrounding her were half a dozen fugitives from the agency’s confirmed Pitbull members list, all of them expertly tied up. It almost looked like… like the person had caught all of the thugs by themselves.
“Interesting,” Wednesday murmured, a spark of that dangerous curiosity in her eyes. “I shall have to study this one closely.”
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“Shitshitshit,” Enid panted as she ran down the sidewalk. “I’m late, I’m so fucking late, oh my god I’m going to be late for my first day!”
She hesitated. If she took a shortcut, she could make it. But… her roommate had told her not to go through Pitbull territory, under any circumstances. Enid could handle herself though; she’d be fine, right? Besides, what were the chances of her actually running into a gang member in the middle of the day?
The majority of the journey was uneventful, and as the last street came into view, Enid almost cheered. Everyone had been overreacting after all. The most dangerous thing that had happened was when had she tripped on her untied shoelace and almost faceplanted.
She careened around a corner, accidentally slamming into someone. “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry-”
A burly hand wrapped around her neck, cutting her off. “The fuck is wrong with you? You need your eyes checked or something?” The voice was slurred, and the man smelled strongly of booze. “Do you fuckin know who I am?!”
Enid blinked up - no, down, actually; he was surprisingly short - at the man, her face blank with confusion. He was stocky, with broad shoulders and a scraggly beard that he probably thought was dashing. (It wasn't.)
“...No?”
The man looked her up and down, a warped smile stretching across his face. “Hey, you’re pretty, lady… how bout you come take a trip with ol’ Bloody Mitch, eh? I’ll show you a good time…” Enid shuddered, her face twisting into one of disgust. His tone, and his grip on her arm, implied that it wasn’t a choice.
Guess this trip wouldn't be so uneventful, after all.
Enid could have easily freed herself at any point, but she was curious now. If he really was who he said he was, this could be a big score for her. Bloody Mitch, aka Mitchell Miller, was the infamous vice-leader of the Pitbulls - a score the Nevermore Supernatural Detective Agency had been after for months. He wasn't very strong, but he was notoriously elusive and slippery. If she could catch him, no one would care if she was a little late. She’d be a hero.
Enid was snapped out of her daydreams when Mitch threw open a plain looking door next to a pet shop. She noted the multiple locks, both magic and just plain steel as he wrestled her inside. The doorbolt clicked into place behind them.
“Nice place you got here,” Enid said casually, smiling. Half a dozen goons, none of them looking too important unfortunately, stared back at her.
“Uh, boss…” One brave goon started, a shaky hand on his gun. “Who’s this?”
Mitch grinned, going to sit by the wall. “Target practice.”
Enid just kept smiling that unnerving smile of hers, not moving an inch. The goons shifted, not one of them moving towards her. Mitch frowned.
“What?” He growled, slamming his fist against the wall. “What’s wrong with all of you? SHOOT HER!”
His lackeys looked back at him uncertainly, then to Enid again. “Sir, she… she doesn’t look scared. At all. Are you… sure she’s just a civilian?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” He forced down his own sudden discomfort, confidently pulling his gun from his waistband. “She’s not even armed! God, I have to do everything myself around here…”
Standing up to his full (short) height, he lifted his gun, aimed at the still-smiling girl, and fired.
Enid didn’t move.
The bullet hit the wall behind her.
Her smile grew.
A twinge of fear grew in Mitch’s chest. A misfire, he told himself. But, no, he could clearly see where the bullet had hit the wall, could see that it had fired. He steadied himself and shot again.
BAM.
Another bullet in the wall.
Not a scratch on the girl in the middle of the room.
It was then that Mitch realized he’d put her between them and the door… the only door. Panicking now, he shot at her again, and again, and again, until he heard the click that meant his gun was out of ammo.
“Get her!” He yelled, turning to his lackeys. “Now, Or I’ll kill you all!”
Frantically, they began to swarm her, attacking with all manner of weapons - bats, knives, fists. Enid easily dodged each one. She watched, amused, as their fervor turned to desperation. She glanced at her watch, and looked panicked for the first time since she’d entered the room.
“Goddamnit, you fools made me forget I was running late!”
Enid looked… angry. The goons backed off immediately, one of them wetting his pants in fear. They began to scramble for an exit - windows, doors, the walls, anything - but they were no match for her.
Shhnk.
Claws sprung out of the girl’s perfectly manicured nails, sharp and deadly. Before the lackeys could react, she was on them, swiping and clawing and growling.
One of them, later, would tell the investigators that she hadn’t been a girl at all, but a beast in disguise. Inhuman, he would say. Wild. Feral.
Enid dusted off her hands, smiling at her work. She gagged a bit at the scent of blood, but hey, at least she hadn't gotten any on her clothes. She had quickly learned to tolerate blood in this line of work, but she still didn't like it.
Looking around, Enid frowned. Something was missing…
With a start, she realized that Bloody Mitch had disappeared. Somehow, in the chaos, he had snuck away.
“Damnit,” Enid snarled, carefully sniffing the air around her. He couldn’t have gone far. The scent of blood and fear hung heavy, but she was just able to pick up a faint whiff of gunpowder, booze, and too-strong cologne.
Gotcha.
Within a minute, she had him back and tied up with the others.
“Now,” she said, that frightening grin back on her face. “If you can make this worth me being late, I’ll spare your life.”
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“Ms. Addams, I’d like you to meet Enid Sinclair, your new partner.” Larissa Weems, the agency chief, stood as annoyingly tall as ever, looming over both Wednesday and Enid. Wednesday scowled at her subtly. She was gifted in many areas, but height was not one of them.
She turned her attention to the blonde in front of her, studying her. Several long, thin scars stretched across the blonde's face, surprising for someone who seemed as… soft as her. Wednesday ignored Enid’s outstretched hand, not even making an attempt to accommodate her. She would have to learn how things worked around here, and fast.
“Wednesday Addams,” she finally said, giving the girl a slight nod. She had caught Bloody Mitch, after all; she deserved at least acknowledgment. Speaking of… “How did you catch Mitchell Miller?”
“Straight to the point, huh?” Enid laughed a little awkwardly, tugging at the cuffs of her sleeves. “Ran into him on the street. That’s all.”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes, but Enid clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk. Fine. She’d get it out of the girl one way or another. They’d have to interact plenty in the coming weeks, after all. Or not.
“My last partner only lasted two weeks,” she settled on. “See if you can make it a month, at least. It’s a hassle having to teach rookies when I should be doing my job.”
To Wednesday’s great chagrin, this only led to a bright smile from Enid. How revolting. “Got it! I won’t let you down, partner!”
Wincing at all the dreadful cheer that the woman oozed, Wednesday moved back to sit by her desk.
"Don't mind her, she's just a little… antisocial," Yoko said, leading Enid to her new desk. "I'm Yoko, resident expert on all things dead." At Enid's questioning look, she clarified, "I'm a vampire, and the agency coroner, among other things. Anyway, it's good to have you; we've been shorthanded since Dalton left."
"Dalton?" Enid asked curiously, setting down her bag and sitting in her chair.
"Addams's last partner." Yoko grimaced. "He couldn't handle the mood swings. Ended up blowing up at her, and lost a testicle to show for it. But, that's not important; how on earth did you manage to catch Bloody Mitch?"
Enid grinned, choosing to ignore the part about Wednesday's last partner losing an, ahem... body part. "He caught me, actually."
If anyone so much as implied that Wednesday listened in, much less that she was interested, she would have clawed their tongue from their throat. It was simply for the sake of the case, that's all. She was just… gathering information.
Yoko and Enid quickly grew comfortable with each other, exchanging contact information and making plans to hang out on their days off. Wednesday turned back to her papers, disinterested in the show of sociality.
She gazed at the paper in her hand, a file on her new partner. A werewolf, huh? Wednesday had never worked with a lycan before. This might prove to be interesting after all…
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Wednesday stood in front of a large corkboard, messy notes and questions scribbled all over it. She crossed her arms, gazing silently at the information and thinking.
“Uh…” Enid began, standing awkwardly behind her. “What’s all this?”
“The case,” Wednesday said, as if it were obvious. “This is what we know: bodies have been showing up, all over town. Both women and men, all ages, races and occupations, always killed via the same method. Locations vary greatly. All victims were outcasts."
“H… how were they killed?” Enid asked nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her pink button-up shirt. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know, but it would be important to solving the case.
“Torn apart, seemingly by brute force, and with large gashes on their bodies. Many had what appeared to be large bite marks on their bodies. Nothing a human could do, that much is for sure.”
Enid grimaced, looking back to the board. A few images were plastered across it, luckily of living, uninjured people. “Do we have any suspects yet?”
Wednesday hummed to herself, tapping three pictures with a pen. It seemed like she always had a pen in her hands, for some reason.
“Three so far, but we don’t have much information on any of them.” She circled the first with her pen. “Xavier Thorpe, 28. Lives alone. Artist. He lives roughly in the middle of the areas where all of the murders were committed, and could have easily gotten into places claiming it was for the sake of his craft. He also has a known tie to at least one of the victims.”
Enid stepped closer curiously as Wednesday circled the next picture, jolting to a stop as she got a good look at the images. “Bianca Barclay, 26," Wednesday continued. "Lives with a roommate, but they have very different schedules, so she would have had plenty of time to sneak out and get back without them ever noticing. Doesn’t live near any of the areas, but she takes deliveries at a flower shop and could have easily snuck it in. Knew at least three of the victims from high school, and had a rough relationship with one of them.”
Enid traced a finger over the third photo, her heart thumping in her chest. “Ajax Petropolus,” she whispered, suddenly overcome with years worth of emotions. Her claws slid out without her consent, tearing into the paper and ripping a gash through his face.
Wednesday masked her surprise, looking at her partner appraisingly. She pointedly didn’t look at the razor sharp claws, and she definitely didn’t think about how easily they could slice through skin. Like butter… or less. She cleared her throat. “We don’t have much information on him, other than that he lives and works in the downtown area, and that he was seen in many of the crime scenes shortly before murders took place. He has a track record of drug abuse and physical assault from high school. Not enough to truly pin him as the culprit, but enough to warrant suspicion. You know him?”
Enid started, as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. “Uh, yeah, we… used to know each other. Back in high school. We dated for a while… you know how it is.”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Wednesday drawled, but she didn’t look away from Enid. This could make things a whole lot easier. “Are you still in contact with him?”
“No, but I still have his number saved,” Enid said, already tracking where Wednesday’s mind was going. “If it’s him, I’ll find out. We kinda ended on a bad note, but, I mean, I’m sure he won’t think twice about me reaching out, not if I play it right.”
Wednesday just nodded, looking pleased. Enid preened a bit inside, glad to be helpful to her gloomy partner. She skipped back to her desk, scrolling through her contacts to find Ajax’s. Here goes nothing, she thought, tapping on the call icon.
He picked up after four rings, sounding groggy and hungover. After he realized who was on the other end of the line, though, he perked up. Wednesday supervised (watched curiously) from her desk as Enid chatted animatedly, carrying the conversation so smoothly you would have thought they had just spoken yesterday.
When she finally ended the call, she held up a sticky note triumphantly, an address and a phone number scrawled across it. “Got his home address and his work cell. Told him I wanted to meet up; he didn’t even need any convincing.”
Wednesday gave a slight nod, turning back to her desk. "Update me when you have new information. Otherwise, it is my writing time. Do not disturb me unless it is an emergency."
Enid frowned a bit as the shorter girl turned her back, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She thought she'd done pretty well for her first day, but Wednesday still seemed unimpressed. A fanged smiled stretched back across her face just as fast as it had left.
Guess she'd just have to try harder, then. She had always loved a good challenge, after all.