While back in his room, Aleksander sat at his desk, flipping through a thick file his father had delivered earlier.
This time focusing on the crime scene photos. They were clear and precise—two victims, different locations, same methods. The police notes beside them mentioned missing organs, each one taken with surgical accuracy.
He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. The patterns between the cases weren't random."Maybe some sort of ritual," he muttered, tapping the edge of the report with his pen.
He sat back in his chair, thinking.
Whatever was happening, it wasn't just murder—it had meaning. He just didn't know whose.
Aleksander reached for his phone and started scrolling through archived case reports tied to the area.
A few interesting names came up—Isaac Night, Francoise Galpin, both listed as missing.
Then one file caught his attention: the murder of Garrett Gates. What made him pause was the suspect listed on the original report—Gomez Addams.Although cleared of the charges, the notes said public opinion never fully shifted. Some still saw him as the man who got away with murder.Aleksander opened the attached case summary, reading quietly under his breath.
"Garrett was stabbed with a sword and fell from the roof," he murmured. "Larissa came outside during the storm looking for her partner. She saw the body hit the ground and then Gomez on the roof, holding the weapon."He scrolled further, expression tightening.
"Principal Larissa immediately claimed it was Morticia's fault," he muttered. "Said the fight started because of her."He exhaled through his nose, eyes scanning the rest of the report. "Nevermore's history just keeps getting better."
The window creaked open, and Stitch climbed inside, leaving faint scratches on the sill. His fur was ruffled, and bits of mud clung to his paws.Aleksander glanced up from his desk, lowering the report he'd been reading. "So," he said evenly, "had your fun?"
Stitch grinned, sharp teeth flashing."Stitch had great fun."
Moments later, Matthew swooped in through the same window and landed on the frame, shaking out his feathers. "Oh, he had fun all right," the raven croaked. "He picked a fight with a giant monster—looked like a mutated version of Gollum , just more bigger and uglier."
Aleksander frowned slightly and turned toward Stitch. His eyes flickered, the green glow spreading across his irises as he focused. The room dimmed a little as he peered into Stitch's memories—flashes of the forest, the pale creature, claws, and the brief brawl.
He drew back, eyes dimming to normal. "So," Aleksander muttered, "the killer is a Hyde."
Stitch nodded once and flopped onto the bed, satisfied. "Stitch wins fight."
Matthew gave a dry chuckle. "Yeah, hero of the night right here."
Hydes are seen as one of the most dangerous and powerful outcasts. Mainly
because of the unpredictable and sometimes violent nature.
Hydes lay dormant inside certain people until they are "unleashed by a traumatic event or unlocked through chemical inducement or hypnosis." They form strong bonds with their liberators, whom they see as their masters.
For the hyde, it is vital to have a master, since without one they suffer psychosis, hallucinations, and physical weakening until finally succumbing to death.
Aleksander leaned back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling as he thought aloud."If this Hyde's still alive, it has a master," he said quietly. "Male Hyde, by the look of it… they don't last long without one. A few days at most."
He tapped a finger against the armrest, expression tightening."So whoever's controlling it—that's the real killer."
Aleksander decided it was time to check on Wednesday. He stood from his chair, ready to teleport directly to her room—only for Stitch to leap onto his back, clinging tightly.With a short exhale of resignation, Aleksander triggered the jump.
For a single heartbeat, space folded in around him. His outline blurred and fractured like glass bending under pressure. A sharp gust tore through the room, scattering loose papers and pushing the curtains flat against the windows.
From the outside, it looked as if Aleksander and Stitch had been yanked through reality itself. No trail. No warning. Just gone.
Inside Ophelia Hall, Wednesday knelt by the stained-glass spiderweb window, carefully scraping the colored film from the panes with a razor blade. The light splitting through the window shifted from rainbow hues to dull white as she worked. Half of the glass now lay bare.
Enid stepped into the room and froze. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight of her half-destroyed masterpiece."What the hell did you do to my room?"
Wednesday set down the blade and turned, face blank. "Dividing our space equally," she said. Her eyes flicked toward the candy-colored chaos across the room. "It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side."
The contrast was striking—Wednesday's half of the dorm was completely monochrome: antique wooden furniture, a typewriter, a framed tarantula, and a gramophone resting neatly beside a black-sheeted bed. Every object had a purpose.
Enid's half glowed in soft neons and fairy lights, bursting with plush toys, posters, and pastel fabrics. A black duct-tape line down the floor separated them like two opposing forces.
Wednesday took her seat at her desk, threading a sheet of paper into her typewriter. "Silence would be appreciated. This is my writing time."
Enid blinked. "Your what now? Writing time?"
"I devote an hour a day to my novel," Wednesday replied evenly. "Perhaps if you did the same, your vlog might be coherent."
Enid's jaw dropped. "You read my vlog?"
"More like deciphered it," Wednesday said, still typing. "I've seen serial killer diaries with better punctuation."
Enid bristled. "I write in my voice. It's my truth. That's what my followers love."
Wednesday's tone didn't shift. "Your followers are clearly imbeciles. They respond to your ramblings with insipid little pictures."
"You mean emojis?" Enid shot back. "It's how people express feelings—It might be forign concept for you."
Wednesday turned toward her, unimpressed. "When I look at you, I imagine the following emojis: rope, shovel, hole."
She resumed typing. "And for the record—there are two D's in Addams. If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly."
Enid huffed and grabbed her phone. Music blasted instantly—upbeat K-pop echoing through the room.
Wednesday's fingers froze. She turned in her chair, irritation rising. "Turn that off. This is your final warning."
Wednesday stood, but Enid stepped forward to the line of tape, claws extending three inches from her fingers. "Do not mess with me! This kitty's got claws, and I'm not afraid to use them!"
Just then, in a blur, and Aleksander materialized beside them—Stitch perched on his shoulder, tightened his grip, his ears twitching. "Whoa. That fun."
Aleksander exhaled, adjusting his coat. "You and I have very different standards for that word."
Aleksander stepped forward, raising a hand as the tension thickened. "Calm down, both of you."
Wednesday glared at him, her voice sharp and low. "Stay out of this."
Enid hesitated, claws still extended, then slowly retracted them with an annoyed sigh. "Fine. Really? You could at least text before doing that. Walls aren't meant to be surprise doorways."
Her eyes flicked toward Stitch, still perched proudly on Aleksander's shoulder, head turning curiously from side to side.
Enid squinted. "And who's the fuzzy alien gremlin? Please tell me you didn't bring home another wild Outcast experiment."
Stitch sniffed the air, nose twitching, then gave a small wave. "Hi."
Enid blinked. "It talks… You brought home a talking blue koala."
That earned her a quick scowl. "Not koala! Stitch. Super strong. Cute."
Enid smirked. "I'll give you cute—but I'm keeping my snacks locked up."
Wednesday, unfazed, turned back to her typewriter. "Make sure he stays on your side of the room. I prefer my environment free of chaos and fleas."
Stitch's ears flattened. "She mean."
Aleksander almost smiled. "You have no idea."
Before anyone could respond, Aleksander's expression shifted. His head turned slightly toward the hallway; his eyes glowed faintly for an instant."Someone's coming," he said quietly.
He and Stitch turned invisible in a blink.The dorm door swung open. Marilyn Thornhill stood there, bright and cheerful in a colorful sweater, muddy red boots, and cat-eye glasses, holding a potted black flower.
"Good evening, girls! Sorry about the mud," she said cheerfully, stepping inside. Her tone softened as she glanced around. "Wanted to make sure Wednesday was settling in. Is this a bad time?"
Enid quickly stopped the music and retracted her claws. "No, Ms. Thornhill! Just… adjusting."
Wednesday returned to her side, posture straight.Thornhill smiled, unfazed by the tension. "I'm Ms. Thornhill—your dorm mom. Sorry I wasn't here earlier, but Outcast Bio won't teach itself. I trust Enid's been giving you the old Nevermore welcome?"
"She's been smothering me with hospitality," Wednesday replied flatly. "I look forward to returning the favor… in her sleep."
Enid blinked. "That's not funny."
Thornhill just chuckled and handed Wednesday the potted flower. "A welcome gift from my conservatory. I like to match the right flower to each of my girls. When I read your application essay, this one came to mind."
Wednesday's gaze landed on the petals. "A Black Dahlia."
"You know it?"Of course. It's named after my favorite unsolved murder." Her voice softened slightly. "Thank you."
Thornhill smiled warmly. "Okie dokie, before I go—house rules. Lights out at ten, no loud music, and no boys… ever."
Wednesday nodded once. "Understood. That last rule should be easy to follow."
Enid shot her a suspicious look.
Somewhere in the corner, invisible Aleksander kept his gaze fixed on Thornhill. She seemed cheerful enough on the surface—warm tone, soft smile—but there was a subtle dissonance beneath it.Stitch tugged lightly on Aleksander's collar and whispered, "She scary."
Aleksander's eyes narrowed. "Yeah," he murmured back. "Something's very wrong with her."
Aleksander was able easily sense her emotions — they were tinged with resentment, buried hostility, and something darker that shifted whenever her eyes lingered on Wednesday. The emotions didn't match the smile she wore.
[Note:There is going to be protégé involved soon. So Tech Expert is Daisy Johnson, Forensics Expert is Sofia Rivera amd Muscle is Piotr "Peter" Rasputin. Enid may get involved from time to time.]