The gates of Nevermore loomed before Dirk like the jaws of some ancient beast. Black iron twisted into gothic arches, ravens perched along the spires. Beyond, the academy itself rose, its spiked towers clawing at the sky. The air hummed faintly, a mix of old stone, secrets, and something… supernatural.
Dirk adjusted the strap of the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He didn't need it—he could have flown in and shattered the gate with a flick—but appearances mattered. His first steps here weren't about domination. They were about establishing the mask.
"Play it smart," he muttered. "Don't show the whole deck. Just enough to keep them guessing."
The gates creaked open on their own. He stepped through.
---
The Walk In
Students milled across the courtyard. Sirens with glistening scales, werewolves in packs, gorgons with hoods drawn low. Outcasts, every one of them, their powers stitched into their identities.
Dirk's arrival didn't go unnoticed.
At six foot nine, he towered over most. Broad shoulders, sculpted physique, sharp jawline—the kind of presence that drew eyes without effort. Whispers spread as he crossed the courtyard. Some curious. Some cautious.
"Who the hell is that?"
"New student? He looks… dangerous."
"No way he's a normie. Look at him."
Dirk ignored them, his stride calm, almost lazy. His gaze swept across the crowd, unreadable. Yet every movement of his body carried weight—like a predator wandering through a den of prey, choosing not to strike.
Flashy enough to draw attention. Subtle enough to stay enigmatic.
---
First Glance – Wednesday
From the steps of the academy, a pair of dark eyes tracked him.
Wednesday Addams stood with her hands clasped behind her back, face as expressionless as stone. Enid chattered at her side, words spilling out in bright bursts, but Wednesday didn't hear them. Her gaze was locked on Dirk.
"New blood," she murmured.
Enid followed her stare and nearly squealed. "Holy crap, look at him! He's like… like if a Greek god went full bad-boy gym rat mode. Do you think he's single? Please tell me he's single."
Wednesday's lips twitched—though whether it was annoyance or intrigue, not even Enid could tell.
---
The Subtle Display
As Dirk reached the base of the stairs, a werewolf student—broad, brash, clearly showing off for his friends—stepped in front of him.
"Yo, new guy. Wrong place. This school's for outcasts, not… whatever you are." He sneered, jabbing a finger at Dirk's chest.
Dirk didn't blink. He didn't posture, didn't flex. He simply looked down at the boy.
That stare alone was enough.
The werewolf faltered, his confidence wilting as if a predator's shadow had swallowed him. His instincts screamed danger. His heart raced. Sweat beaded at his temple.
Dirk leaned forward slightly, voice quiet, almost polite.
"Move."
One word. That was all it took. The werewolf stumbled back, pale, and slunk away without another sound.
The courtyard buzzed louder. Whispers shifted into awe.
Flashy, without lifting a finger. Intimidating, without raising his voice.
---
Meeting the Headmistress
At the top of the stairs, Principal Weems appeared, tall and regal in her immaculate attire. Her eyes swept the courtyard before settling on Dirk.
"You must be Dirk Sanchez," she said smoothly. "Our newest student."
Dirk inclined his head slightly, the picture of calm respect. "That's me."
Her eyes flicked over his physique, his sharp features, his controlled posture. She saw the whispers, the ripples of unease and intrigue in the courtyard. Her instincts, honed from decades of dealing with outcasts, told her one thing—he was dangerous.
But instead of pushing, she smiled faintly.
"Welcome to Nevermore. I trust you'll… make an impression."
Dirk's lips curled in a half-smirk. "I usually do."
---
Reflection
As he followed Weems inside, Dirk's mind churned. He could feel eyes burning into his back—Wednesday's sharp and calculating, Enid's sparkling with curiosity, dozens of others ranging from admiration to fear.
Good.
He hadn't needed to throw a punch, hadn't needed to fly, hadn't needed to flaunt his immunity. Just his presence, his control, and his voice had been enough.
A storm didn't need to roar to prove it was coming. Sometimes the silence before the thunder was louder.
Dirk smirked to himself as the doors of Nevermore closed behind him.
"Let's see how this game plays out."