Weathervane Café & Bakery was filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked croissants and ground coffee beans. The warm, sweet air inside stood in sharp contrast to the bleak street outside.
Victor Black pushed the door open, humming a terribly off-key tune. Venom, hanging around his neck, squirmed lazily, seemingly satisfied with the sugar content in the air.
Then he saw the scene.
Wednesday Addams was spinning like a black whirlwind in the middle of three students dressed like religious zealots.
Her movements were precise, fierce, and carried an almost brutal aesthetic.
A spinning kick—her boot heel connected perfectly with the first guy's chin. Using the momentum, she launched herself into the air, her other leg sweeping across the second guy's temple. Finally, she landed, driving her elbow hard into the third guy's stomach.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The three "zealots" fell like cut wheat. One of them slid right to Victor's feet, groaning and unable to move.
"Whoa," Victor whistled, genuinely impressed as he stepped over the body. "Clean and efficient! That force, that angle, that arc! Perfection! Venom, look, doesn't it look like the ballet version of Kill Bill?"
Venom emerged from his shoulder, his massive white eyes sweeping over the three paralyzed bodies on the floor. His tongue licked over his sharp teeth, letting out a regretful tsk:
"Is this dessert prepared for me? Pity... they smell like cheap, expired chocolate. I don't have much of an appetite."
Wednesday retracted her leg, smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes, and shot a cold glare at Victor. Her gaze then landed on the middle-aged man in a sheriff's uniform behind him—Sheriff Donovan Galpin—who looked furious.
Her brow furrowed almost invisibly.
"Victor." Her voice was dipped in ice. "Did you finally commit a crime worthy of a police escort? Or has your noise level officially been classified as a public safety hazard?"
Victor spread his hands dramatically, looking innocent. "Hey! I just wanted to buy some top-tier chocolate beans worthy of my palate, but found out I didn't bring enough money."
"So," Wednesday's gaze darted between him and the Sheriff, finally settling on his empty hands. "You chose robbery."
"Watch your phrasing! Addams!" Victor puffed out his chest, trying to defend his precarious dignity.
"Before leaving, I very clearly told the owner, 'Send the bill to the Principal's office at Nevermore Academy'! How does that count as robbery? At most, it's... delayed payment! Credit consumption!"
Suddenly, Venom began to writhe violently on Victor's shoulder. His attention was completely captured by the barista who had been trying to lower his presence behind Wednesday—Tyler Galpin.
Venom's huge white eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.
"Vic..." Venom's voice dropped low, filled with the excitement of finding buried treasure. "Wait... this smell... interesting... very interesting..."
His gaze locked dead onto Tyler. Tyler instinctively took a half-step back, a flicker of imperceptible panic flashing in his eyes.
"It's like... a hidden-edition chocolate wrapped in layers?" Venom's voice held a greedy curiosity.
"The outside is a plain milk chocolate shell, but inside... I smell a completely different, dark and rich filling... What is it? Let me taste it! Just one bite!"
Before he finished speaking, a pitch-black, viscous tendril shot out from Victor! It moved like lightning, instantly wrapping around Tyler's arm. The tip of the tendril even tried to creep upward toward his neck and cheek!
"Get away from my son! Monster!" Sheriff Galpin reacted instantly. He drew his service weapon in a flash, pointing the muzzle directly at Victor. His face was livid, his finger tight on the trigger.
The air in the café froze instantly. Other customers let out low gasps. Although they knew Nevermore students were outcasts and freaks, they had never seen a black tentacle monster before.
Victor immediately raised his hands high, though that hippie smile remained plastered on his face. "Relax, relax, Sheriff! Just a joke! My Venom is just a little... hospitable. Especially toward people who smell delicious."
He snapped his fingers. "Venom, come back. Don't scare our 'Hidden Edition Chocolate' here."
Venom's tendril released Tyler extremely reluctantly. It hovered in the air nostalgically for a second before snapping back into Victor's body.
He left one final, regretful grumble: "A waste of natural resources..."
Victor grinned at the shaken Tyler and the still-aiming Sheriff Galpin.
"No need to be nervous. Venom and I are good guys. Why don't you consider buying me a hot cocoa? We can drink while we wait for my dear Principal Auntie to bail me out."
He said this to the Sheriff, but his voice was loud enough for the entire café to hear.
Wednesday closed her eyes.
Her perfect escape plan, executed only halfway, was once again facing collapse because of this noisy variable.
She took a deep breath. She could almost picture Principal Weems' vintage sedan crushing the pavement as it pulled up outside this café that reeked of fake sweetness.
She rolled her eyes extremely quickly and extremely inelegantly. Her face clearly read: Nothing good ever happens when I run into you.
She immediately changed direction. Abandoning the side door, which might be blocked by the Principal, she quickened her pace toward the kitchen, hoping to find a back exit.
However, Fate seemed determined to antagonize her.
Just as her hand was about to touch the kitchen curtain—
Ding-ling.
The café door was pushed open.
Principal Larissa Weems's towering figure appeared in the doorway. Her silver-grey bun was immaculate, and her sharp gaze swept over the room like a searchlight.
The three students groaning on the floor, the Sheriff holding a gun, the pale Tyler, Victor grinning with his hands up, and... Wednesday, frozen in the act of sneaking into the kitchen.
Larissa's gaze locked precisely onto Wednesday. The corner of her mouth lifted in a very faint arc that somehow increased the pressure in the room tenfold.
"Miss Addams," her voice was steady but carried undeniable weight. "It seems your trip to the 'restroom' extended several blocks away?"
Wednesday slowly lowered her hand from the curtain. She turned around, meeting the Principal's gaze expressionlessly, as if the person trying to sneak away just now wasn't her.
"Conducting an urban hiking survey," she replied coldly. "The hygiene standards here are concerning." Her gaze pointedly swept over the three guys still moaning on the floor.
Principal Weems didn't seem intent on digging deeper right then.
Her gaze turned to Sheriff Galpin, who slowly lowered his gun, though his eyes remained wary.
"Donovan," Larissa's tone carried a hint of familiarity. "It seems there was a minor disturbance."
"Larissa," the Sheriff's voice was hard. "Your student... one of them," he glared at Victor, "tried to attack my son with that... black thing!"
"It was an enthusiastic physical greeting and an invitation for taste appreciation!" Victor corrected, finally lowering his sore arms.
"The Sheriff's comprehension skills clearly need improvement. Principal Auntie, you came just in time! Hurry up and prove I'm a law-abiding citizen, and by the way, pay my chocolate bean bill?"
Principal Weems ignored Victor's banter. Her gaze shifted between the black residue on Tyler's arm and Victor, then finally looked at the three students on the floor dressed like religious zealots.
"I will handle these matters," she said to the Sheriff, her tone signaling the end of the discussion.
"Including these classmates... who clearly need to relearn school rules and respect for others. I will contact their principal." She glanced coldly at the people on the floor.
The Sheriff seemed to want to say more, but under Larissa's calm yet oppressive gaze, he simply pursed his lips, nodded, holstered his gun, and pulled Tyler aside to question him in a low voice.
Larissa then turned her gaze back to Wednesday and Victor.
"It seems," she spoke slowly, her voice void of emotion, "that today's counseling session has ended early, and expanded its content in a... highly unconventional manner."
She looked at Victor: "Your 'credit consumption'."
Then looked at Wednesday: "Your 'urban hike'."
"Now," she turned sideways, clearing the path to the door and making a "please" gesture. "You two. It is time to return to the academy. We need to have a... deeper conversation."
Victor sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping. "Okay, okay, conversation. But Principal Auntie, before the talk, can you buy me a hot cocoa to calm my nerves? Preferably with three chocolate brownies..."
Wednesday said nothing. She picked up her suitcase and walked past the Principal expressionlessly, heading out of the café first.
Only her hand, gripping the suitcase handle so tightly her knuckles were white, betrayed her inner turmoil.
Her escape had failed. Again.