Chapter 2: Woe's First Spark
Nevermore's hallways were a labyrinth of cold stone, their walls etched with occult runes that pulsed faintly, lit by flickering torches casting shadows like restless spirits across the uneven floor. The air was thick with the scent of wax, old leather, and a metallic tang that prickled Adama Stiels' skin like static, a reminder of the school's dark pulse. He navigated the corridors, his purple-striped uniform rumpled, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his Copy System HUD glowing faintly in his mind's eye: [System: 0 Ultimate Skill Cards. Active Skills: Ultimate Illusion Creation, Ultimate Immortal Body.]This place is a gothic MCU set, and I'm the chaotic sidekick ready to steal the show, he thought, his lopsided grin a beacon in the gloom, his heart steady despite the eerie atmosphere. His goal was to find Wednesday Addams, her reputation as a psychic detective buzzing through Nevermore like a plot twist in an Arrowverse episode, his crush on her—Jenna, as he thought of her—a spark he couldn't ignore.
He rounded a corner and nearly collided with Wednesday, her black braids stark against her pale skin, her dark eyes piercing like daggers, her black dress a gothic statement against the stone walls, her crossbow slung over her shoulder, its polished wood gleaming in the torchlight. "Watch your step, or I'll ensure you regret it," she said, her voice a cold blade, her posture rigid with intensity, her fingers twitching as if ready to draw her weapon. Adama's grin widened, his sarcasm a shield against her glare, his heart racing like he'd just triggered a romance side quest. "You're like if Deadpool and Batman had a goth kid," he said, his voice laced with bravado, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. Objective: charm the un-charmable. Let's roll the dice. Wednesday's eyes narrowed, but a flicker of amusement crossed her pale lips, a rare crack in her stoic mask. "Your humor is almost bearable, Stiels," she said, her monotone sharp, a hint of their future partnership sparking, as promised in the character bible.
They ended up in the library, its towering shelves packed with dusty tomes, their leather bindings cracked, the air heavy with aged parchment and a faint hum of magic that set Adama's nerves alight. Wednesday led him to a hidden alcove, her movements precise, her dark eyes scanning the shelves like a detective in a noir film. "There's a relic here, tied to Nevermore's secrets," she said, her voice low, her braids swaying slightly as she pulled a book, revealing a runed pendant, its raven motifs glinting ominously, its energy buzzing like a live wire against Adama's skin. He focused, his HUD flaring brightly: [System: Ultimate Illusion Creation Activated.] The air shimmered, and a vivid illusion unfolded—a spectral faction meeting materialized, cloaked figures chanting Joseph Crackstone's name with fanatical devotion, their eyes glowing with eerie light, their plans to destabilize Nevermore flickering like a corrupted hologram in a sci-fi thriller. The pendant pulsed, its runes casting jagged shadows across the alcove, the air humming with dark energy.
Wednesday's fingers twitched, her pale hand hovering over the pendant, her mind dissecting every detail of the illusion, her breath steady despite the weight of their discovery. "This faction threatens Nevermore's existence," she murmured, her voice a storm gathering on the horizon, her dark eyes flicking to Adama with a spark of approval that sent his pulse soaring like a speedrun record. Score one for the sidekick, and a Wednesday glance? That's a rare loot drop, he thought, his grin masking the flutter in his chest, his sarcasm a shield against the tension. A paper cut stung his finger from a tome, but his Ultimate Immortal Body healed it instantly, the skin knitting together, leaving no trace. This System's got my back, like a Vibranium shield.
To lighten the mood, Adama pranked Xavier Thorpe in the quad, spotting him sketching under a twisted oak, his green eyes focused, his dark hair falling into his face. Adama focused: [System: Ultimate Illusion Creation Activated.] Xavier's sketchbook pages morphed into comical superhero caricatures—Superman with a goofy grin, Batman with a cartoonish cape—sparking laughter as students gathered, Xavier glaring but chuckling, his rivalry friendly. "Nice trick, Stiels," he said, his voice warm, his sketchbook tucked away, their dynamic shifting toward camaraderie. Enid bounced over, her pink sweater bright against the gray cobblestones, her cheer infectious. "You and Wednesday are totally a vibe, Adama!" she said, her blue eyes sparkling, her werewolf energy boosting his confidence, their bond deepening through an extended chat about Nevermore's cliques, her stories laced with humor, his quips peppered with MCU references.
The library scene lingered, Adama and Wednesday poring over the pendant's clues, their banter sharp—Wednesday's deductions cutting like a blade, Adama's quips landing like Deadpool one-liners. The alcove's shadows grew longer, the runes' glow casting an eerie light, their voices blending in a rhythm of trust and tension. In his dorm, moonlight spilled through a cracked window, casting raven-like shadows on the stone walls, their shapes twisting like omens of the mystery to come. The pendant's energy gnawed at him, his memories of home—comic shop banter, MCU marathons—blurring, his new reality sharp with gothic menace. Level two, and the plot's thickening like a season finale. He checked the HUD: [System: 0 Ultimate Skill Cards. Active Skills: Ultimate Illusion Creation, Ultimate Immortal Body.] "Woe's got my attention," he murmured, his voice soft as sleep claimed him, the night fading into silence, the pendant's pulse echoing in his dreams, whispering of a Nightshades call to come.