Chapter Text
The Addams family was known to be a regular family. Sure they were known to be a bit peculiar due to their attire that made them look as if they lived in a classic black and white film, their big haunted looking manor on the hill next to the cemetery, their extensive collection of oddities (some that were rumoured to be actually human remains although no one ever officially proved this) and their unique and quirky personalities.
In any other world they would definitely have stood out but in a world of superheroes and supervillains they seemed perfectly ordinary.
Only one member, Mortica Addams, had powers but as they were seemingly very minor (she only had the power to see into the future and she couldn’t even control the futures she saw) she was left to live an ordinary, domestic life.
However the Addams were hiding a secret, a secret that came in the form of their oldest child, Wednesday Friday Addams.
To an outsider Wednesday was seen as a formal, stoic child who always wore her hair in twin pigtails and liked to decapitate her dolls but to anyone in the know Wednesday was one of the most powerful ability wielders in Jericho.
Wednesday's first ability was nothing except for maybe a bit inconvenient. It is a little harder to change a baby’s diaper if they keep floating away after all. This ability was easy to prevent, Wednesday just wore weights in her shoes until she was able to control it.
When she turned two she was gained two more abilities, one that involved weeks of fireproofing the manor and another that made it difficult to get Wednesday to do anything as she always knew exactly what her parents were going to try get her to do before they even said it.
Along with these abilities, Wednesday also gained a brother, Pugsly.
And as she sat next to her mom on the hospital bed holding him for the first time, big brown eyes fixed onto his innocent little face she knew she would do anything to protect him.
Despite the law that stated any child possessing super human abilities must be evaluated and sent off to the training school, Wednesday remained at home. Her grandmother homeschooled her and Pugsly and she didn’t leave the house unless it was absolutely necessary. Her parents never stated to her why this was but she knew they didn’t trust Nevermore otherwise known as the superhero alliance that took Fester, Gomez’s brother, away when he was 10 because they labelled him as a threat because of his high voltage powers. They still don’t know what they did to him there but when Gomez managed to rescue him he came back broken and distant, his powers weak and almost completely gone. It took nearly two whole decades to get him back to himself.
They didn’t want the same thing to happen to Wednesday so they kept her powers a closely guarded secret.
Her next ability came at age five and although it gave her endless convenience it made the family manor a bit of an obstacle course with every member having to be wary whenever they were in close proximity to Wednesday lest they get hit in the head with “An Encyclopaedia Of Torture Techniques” or Wednesday’s chello. The same chello that had knocked over not very cautious Gomez one too many times made him wish that his daughter played a smaller instrument such as a violin or a flute.
From then up until the age of ten it seemed that those were the only powers she would develop causing everyone to let out a deep sigh of relief.
Well, until the day when she was baking a cake for Pugsley’s eighth birthday with the family butler, Lurch, (a yearly tradition) and she touched the handle of the kitchen cupboard causing her head to snap back, revealing her first vision.
It was dark. She was sitting in this very kitchen cupboard and she was alone, cheeks wet, listening to two strange men’s voices as they made their way through the manor. Her heart was beating so loud she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She heard their feet stop at the top of the stairs by her parents room. She heard one shot and then two then three then four. More tears spilling out at each shot. Then, she heard the cry of her brother and sat bolt upright in the cupboard, that’s when the vision ended.
Wednesday came back to, lying on the tiles of the kitchen floor sweating profusely, eyes wide and her chest heaving as she tried to breathe. She pushed herself off the floor and past her mother who tried to ask her what was wrong. She wouldn’t answer but Mortica already knew.
She had her first vision and she didn’t like what it had shown her.
Over the next two years a sudden change fell over Wednesday. She was overly cautious, checking that the door was locked multiple times throughout the day, wearing gloves whenever she had to touch a surface and using her telepathy to pass objects to herself in order to avoid another vision.
She had permanent, dark, heavy bags under her eyes, hardly sleeping and she was more agitated and distant than usual, snapping at everyone and spending hours everyday playing her cello up in her room, away from the rest of the family
Every time someone tried to ask her what she saw that day she kept quiet, holding on to a belief that if she didn’t say the words out loud that it wouldn’t happen. That she wouldn’t be hiding in a cupboard while her family was being killed.
Her mom had told her that visions weren’t reliable and she hoped that her vision was just a result of paranoia that someone would find out about her abilities and take it away but alas the day still came.
She was again in the kitchen helping Lurch, the family butler, bake a cake for her brother’s 10th birthday when the door was broken in. Lurch immediately picked her up and put her in the cupboard despite her protests . From there her vision played out exactly as she saw it, cheeks wet, hand clamped over her mouth to prevent her sobs from breaking out but when she heard her brothers cry the vision didn’t stop, she didn’t wake up on the kitchen floor. This was happening and she did nothing to stop it but she would be damned if she didn’t try to save her brother
She burst out the kitchen, running through the hall and out of the entryway before two men grabbed her forcing her to watch her brother be shoved into a van and driven away.
“PUGSLEY!”, Wednesday her arms pinned behind her back, frozen in shock before her anger kicked in.
Wednesday closed her eyes and willed her body alight.
The men yelped and dropped her, frantically trying to pat out the flames which they would be able to do fairly quickly since Wednesday didn’t want to burn her own skin however Wednesday didn’t give them that chance.
With a wave of her hand she sent them flying into the manors wall, turning her head and squeezing her eyes closed as she heard their spins crack against the brick.
From there she ran, she didn’t know where she was going at first, her tears blurring the world around her, running so fast she stumbled a few times until she reached a familiar looking structure, a shabby wooden cabin located deep in the forest that lay on the outskirts of the city. It was impossible to find if you hadn’t been there before.
Wednesday hammered on the door as loud as she could not noticing the skin of her knuckles tearing and bleeding from how hard she knocked but eventually the door sprung open and there stood her Uncle Fester in his stripy Panama’s (that suspiciously resembled a prison uniform) and a ratty dressing gown. His sleepy gaze of confusion quickly turned to concern when he saw his niece in ripped and synged clothing eyes bloodshot and hair almost completely unravelled from her usual twin braids.
She immediately collapsed into his arms and sobbed.
“They killed mom and dad - and - and Lurch and Grandma -and they took Pugsly”, she weeped.
“Who did?”
Wednesday didn’t move from his arms, nose buried in his shoulder as she continued to sob.
“Wednesday '', Uncle Fester asked her gently, trying to pull her head from his shoulder, “who killed your parents? Who took Pugsley?”
Wednesday pulled her head from where it was buried in his shoulder and looked at him, all sadness and grief vanishing from her face as it transformed into a scowl, remembering the names of the men’s jackets and painted onto the van that took her brother away. She looked her uncle in the eye, expression dark and bitter.
“Nevermore”