Chapter 2: Woe Meets Wit
Adam Stiels slouched in Nevermore's history classroom, the air thick with dust and the scent of melting wax from flickering candles. Professor Thornhill droned on about outcast lineage, her voice a monotone hum that threatened to lull him to sleep. His HUD glowed faintly in his vision: Level 1, 1/100 uses, 10-minute cooldowns. Transmigrated into Wednesday's world, with memory gaps clouding the Hyde and Crackstone, Adam was a fish out of water with a cosmic cheat code. His goals: blend in, survive, and maybe charm Enid Sinclair while he was at it. The system's silence since yesterday's prank didn't ease the surreal weight of his new reality.
A stack of history tests sat on Thornhill's desk, a looming challenge. Adam's knowledge of outcast lore was shaky at best, but the system was his ace. Slow Time: 15 seconds, 3x slower. Activate? He smirked, focusing. The world crawled—Thornhill's pen moved like molasses, classmates' eyes blinked in slow motion. Adam scanned a gorgon's paper, scribbling answers with a flourish. Time snapped back, and he handed in a perfect test, earning a nod from Thornhill. "Impressive, Mr. Stiels. Almost too perfect."
Across the room, Wednesday Addams' stare burned holes in him, her braids immaculate, her expression a mask of suspicion. Post-class, she approached, her voice flat as a gravestone. "Nobody's that good at history without cheating. Care to explain?"
Adam leaned against a desk, grinning. "Photographic memory, Addams. Jealous?"
"You move too fast for a normie. I'm watching you." Her scrutiny was a scalpel, slicing through his bravado. The system pinged: She's gonna dissect you if you're not careful, speedster. Adam's memory gaps didn't help—something about a Hyde flickered in his mind but slipped away like smoke. What's with these holes in my head?
Outside in the quad, Enid Sinclair bounced over, her pink sweater a splash of color against Nevermore's gloom. "Adam, you totally aced that test! How'd you pull it off?" Her eyes sparkled, her energy pulling him in like a magnet.
"Magic," he said, winking. Her laugh was like sunlight, and his heart did that annoying flip again. "You're trouble, Adam, but the fun kind," she teased, nudging his shoulder. Their banter flowed, Enid sharing a story about her first werewolf transformation—how she'd accidentally clawed her favorite rug to shreds. "Ever done something totally wild?" she asked, her grin mischievous.
"All the time," Adam said, dodging the specifics of his cosmic powers. The quad buzzed around them—sirens gossiping about the upcoming Rave'N dance, a psychic muttering about cryptic visions of ravens. Adam soaked it in, reflecting: This place is a circus, and I'm the new clown. Gotta fit in without screwing up. The memory gaps gnawed at him during a passing discussion of the monster sighting, his mind blank where answers should be.
A report crackled over the school's intercom: claw marks and blood found in Jericho, no witnesses. Wednesday's eyes lit up, predatory. "Monster hunt," she said, already moving. Adam followed, curiosity piqued, the quad's chatter fading behind him. In the apiary, Eugene Ottinger rambled about his bees, his glasses fogging with excitement. "Bees sense danger, you know? They're buzzing like crazy today." Adam nodded, liking the kid's earnestness. "They're like tiny spies, right? Tell me more."
Eugene dove into bee lore—pollination cycles, hive dynamics, the queen's command. "They've got this whole society," he said, eyes bright. Adam grinned, bonding over the kid's passion. "You're alright, Ottinger." A bond formed, tentative but real.
Back in his dorm, Adam plotted his next prank, targeting Principal Weems' legendary coffee addiction. With Thing's help, the hand scuttling eagerly across the floor, he activated Slow Time: 15 seconds. The world lagged, Weems frozen mid-sip in her office, her desk cluttered with papers and a steaming mug. Adam swapped her coffee with decaf, Thing giving a thumbs-up. "You're my kind of trouble," Adam whispered to the hand. Time resumed, and Weems took a sip, her scowl immediate. "Who touched my coffee?"
The system chuckled: Decaf for Weems? You're playing with fire, kid. Adam's monologue swirled as he dodged her glare: This place is a minefield. Wednesday's onto me, Enid's too cute for my own good, and I'm pranking a principal who could expel me. But damn, this system's fun. Later, Weems cornered him in the hall, her voice icy. "One more stunt, Stiels, and you're scrubbing gargoyles." Adam saluted, unfazed, but Wednesday's stare lingered as he left. "You're not just fast," she said, low and dangerous. "What are you hiding?"
He caught up with Eugene again, diving deeper into bee facts—swarm signals, loyalty to the hive. This kid's a goldmine, Adam thought, cementing their bond. The monster sighting gnawed at him, his memory gaps a frustrating fog. What's out there, and why can't I remember?