It was nightfall.
You pulled the last bit of your cigarette, allowing the nicotine to calm your nerves while you stared at a your next adventure. You were across the street, eyes fixed on an apartment building in the city of New York. The occupant would tell you if your suspicions were right about the person you've been married to for the past three years.
For a few months, you've had someone keep an eye on your wife after suspecting that she's having an affair with one of her coworkers. Extremely wild to not do the digging yourself, sure, but you had your reasons. You were a busy person who could multitask but your brain wouldn't allow you to get too wrapped up in your wife's "work," so you gave that responsibility to someone else to minimize your wife changing her style of cheating and keep the suspicions you had secret. Like a scorpion, you would sting when ready.
Your marriage had become touch-less, kiss-less, and more upsetting for you, loveless; all of which was proof in your mind of cheating. However, you needed something tangible to slam divorce papers in her face, and to get out this would-be expensive divorce.
...And seek your revenge, as in the state of New York, a cheating spouse can be put behind bars, and because your wife was famous — you could slander her career.
You exhaled the smoke, tossing the butt onto the ground. You reached into your blazer, retrieving a business card. You read the small card one final time:
The Raven's Eye
————-
Wednesday Addams,
Private Investigator
You returned your sight to the building, mumbling to yourself, "Show me something good, Miss Wednesday Addams."
A car passed along the lonely, wet street before you crossed, stepping through a puddle or two. You reached the curb of the apartment building, making your way inside.
You buttoned your blazer while your eyes roamed the dark lobby, your lip raising in disgust at the presentation. You hesitantly tapped the cobb-webbed bell on the desk, hoping to get some assistance.
You waited, eyeballing the floor, but then a spider crawled across your foot, causing you to kick it off, and laughing ensued.
You looked to the desk, spotting an unusually tall man who had a face only a mother could love; this guy was either cosplaying Frankenstein or was Frankenstein, no in-between.
You squinted reading his name tag, Lurch. An eerie name for an eerie guy, you supposed. You cleared your throat, you spoke, "I'm here for Miss Addams, the address on her business card led me here."
You showed Lurch the business card, and he groaned. Your eyes shifted left to right, you furrowed your brows, "Huh?"
Lurch groaned again.
You opened your mouth to speak, but another man spoke, "I told you to leave Wednesday's clients alone, Lurch. I'm on desk duty."
Lurch looked in the direction of the man groaning an explanation, and the man rolled his eyes, "I know you want to help, but your job is to greet and clean. Wednesday's order, not mine."
You rose a brow while Lurch groaned again; you had not a single clue how they were communicating, but you didn't question it. This wasn't the weirdest thing on this planet by a long shot. The tall man moved away from the desk, gathering a broom from the wall.
You watched as the behemoth forcefully swept, attitude in full swing. "Sorry about that, you're looking for Wednesday?" The man spoke, standing oddly close to you, startling you.
Your heart skipped a beat at the closeness; you took a step back, swallowing, "Yes."
"She's right this way," the man smiled and you took in his appearance. This guy was just as weird looking as the last one; except he was a lot shorter, round and bald with eyes sinking into skull. The skin of his face hanging on by literally threads, you read his name tag before he nodded, walking away; Uncle Fester.
You mentally beat yourself up wondering why uncle was there instead of just his name as he led you to the elevator.
You stood before it, and Uncle Fester pressed a button to go up. The elevator light didn't turn on; there was nothing to indicate that the elevator was even working, Uncle Fester groaned, "Oh, come on."
He pressed the button again, and you watched him, perplexing. Uncle Fester glanced at you, "She works. She just needs a little kick, step back please."
You followed instructions while the man aggressively rubbed his hands together. He giggled before the cracking of electricity coursed his fingertips.
"What the—" you almost got out, but he pressed the button again, and the elevator lit up. In fact, the whole lobby lit up. Your eyes roamed the lobby a second time, taking in the space again. With good lights, it was actually a beautiful place. Cobwebs were rampant still but the aesthetic was something fresh out of Victorian England.
Lurch groaned loudly, and Uncle Fester remarked, "I know the light irritates your eye, but we have business. Just put on your shades!"
Lurch groaned again, stomping through the lobby with his hands for shades.
"I hope us being outcasts won't steer away your business." The man said, stepping into the elevator. You spun your heel, quickly joining him.
You shook your head as the old doors closed, "No, not at all. I work with plenty of you down at my office."
"What do you do?" Uncle Fester asked, staring at you.
"I'm a private attorney, a lot of my clients are unique..."
Uncle Fester nodded, "Oh, well, what brings you here if you're a lawyer?"
"Cheating spouse." You muttered, scratching behind your ear.
Uncle Fester grimaced, "Yikes, that's never fun. I was married before. She cheated on me with my right hand."
The elevator door opened, and the two of you stepped out, you stuffed your hands in your pants following the man down the corridor, "Your right hand?"
"Yes, apparently he was gentler, didn't electrify her whenever they touched. But I mean," Uncle Fester stopped before a door, "of course, he's only a right hand; there's nothing else he could do for her."
You froze in your tracks, trying to register what Uncle Fester meant by electrifying and only being a right hand. You shook your head to eradicate the thought while he knocked on the door; he shouted, "Your client is here."
Uncle Fester turned to you and nodded with a grin, he returned to the elevator. You sighed, as the door swung open, you were met with the dark gaze of a small woman.
Her skin was near-pale with cherry lips, her dark brown eyes were scarily symmetrical beneath her jet black fringe, a sharp jaw placed firmly on her neck, between her twinning braids, that ran along her shoulders. This was your first time seeing your work-for-hire, so this was a lot to take in; she was absolutely gorgeous.
You got lost in her gaze. She questioned, "Are you Y/F/N_ Y/L/N?"
You answered, swallowing at her non-blinking eyes, "Yes."
She stepped aside allowing you entry; you entered. The small woman locked her door and quickly made her way to her desk, placed in the center of the ...living room?
She began hammering away on her typewriter.
Your eyes wondered the space. There was a large typewriter planted on the desk with a lamp and quill, some vanilla folders scattered about. And more usual office supplies. Behind our sitting raven, there was a giant pinboard drenched with photos, pins, and threads. Your eyes shifted around to spot a kitchen and what was presumably a bathroom just across from it. You couldn't help but ask, "Do you own this building?"
"Yes, I do." She responded. And you got all the clarity you needed, that would explain the lack of people around, darkness, and her office being in her home.
You eyeballed the living room, again; a floating hand under a white light, in a glass box catching your attention as it was a centerpiece in a collection of shelved taxidermy.
You wandered close to the encased hand, reading the engraving outside of the box: In Honor of My Favorite Appendage, Thing
You furrowed your brows, asking aloud, "Was this hand alive?"
Wednesday dryly, "Yes."
You examined the hand; it was a right hand. You stood up straight, pointing to it while looking at a focused Wednesday, "This wouldn't happen to be the hand that took Uncle Fester's wife from him?"
Wednesday paused from typing, she stared at you, "How do you know about that?"
You walked to her desk, sitting down while her eyes followed you, you leaned forward, "He told me a few minutes ago."
Wednesday's eyes shifted back to the typewriter, she grumbled, "Interesting. Did he also tell you that he killed him?"
You looked back at the hand and then Wednesday, you were flabbergasted, "H-he killed the hand? Weren't they friends?"
"It's safe to say that Fester shocked Thing to death, when he did." Wednesday told, typing on her typewriter again.
You sat back in your seat, scratching your head, you commented, "Damn."
"Yes, damn," Wednesday remarked, snatching the paper from her typewriter. Her eyes glossed over the document, she lended out the paper for you to take, "This is a retainer agreement."
You took the paper, reading over it yourself, while she explained, "It covers my term of employment from the date you called to now, what I've done within my rights as an investigator, and the payment for my services. Sign if you don't have any issues."
You nodded, "Alright, it looks good," looking up at her, "Do you have a pen?"
Wednesday pushed a bowl of ink and feather to the edge of the desk.
"Or feather." You placed the paper down, carefully dabbing the quill and signing the bottom of the page. You set the feather back, fanning the paper so it could dry, you assured her, "I'll invoice you when I get to my office tomorrow."
She nodded.
Wednesday's chair rolled into the board, as she stood up, she went to the bedroom. There was red light peeking from the room. Moments passed, and she came around with a collection of pictures. Wednesday sat the pictures inside of a vanilla folder, before she took the contract you signed, signing it herself. She fanned it to dry.
You exhaled while eyeing the pile of photos. Your mind scattering at what you would see and what your reaction would be. Wednesday took the contract into her bedroom, a machine was heard while you picked at the armrest of the couch.
"I'll double your payment if any cotton makes it onto my floor."
You snapped your head at the voice, quickly stopping and spotting Wednesday stapling the contract copy into the vanilla folder. She closed the folder, handing it to you, "Here, you are allowed to review it here."
You sighed, nervously, taking the folder, and going through the pictures.
Well, you were right. Your wife was cheating, just as you suspected, with her coworker. You remained silent overlooking the pictures; tears pricking your eyes. Wednesday placed a box of tissues before you, and your eyes glanced at the box, a tear involuntarily falling. Wednesday spoke, "Do not empty your lacrimal glands over an infidel; cry because you are free from her inability to reciprocate your loyalty."
You chuckled, a large grin spreading your face while you looked up, "Believe me these are tears of joy."
Wednesday pulled her tissues away from you, quietly sighing of relief.
You smiled at the photos, wiping your eyes before closing the folder. You could absolutely ruin her life now for what she's done to you, and that's all that mattered.
You smiled, standing up, a wave of happiness coursing your body. You jumped, "Fuck, I'm free! Oh my god!"
Wednesday watched you, observing your body language; you were sincere in your cheers. She remarked, "You are the first person to discover a cheating spouse and not eat mucus from all the wallowing of the past and what could've been."
"All I want is revenge."
Wednesday walked around her desk, leaning against it with her arms crossed, she added with a sinister grin, "My uncle's downstairs."
Your eyes widened, chuckling, "Yeah, not that kind."
Wednesday's face returned to normal, she shrugged. You wagged your folder, staring at her, "Thank you, Miss Addams! Seriously, I don't feel like money's enough for this. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Wednesday nodded, she stated, "Yes, there's some stuff but get your revenge first."
You licked your lips, heading to her door, "Great, I'll be waiting for your call. Thank you again!"
* * *
Your divorce was publicized for all the world to see; not only was your EX wife thrown in jail for ninety days but sued as well. She was required, upon release, to pay for your therapy. It wasn't that you needed the therapy but you would do anything to see her broken further than she already was. You wanted her a crumbling mess as she left you in your marriage so many months ago when her affair began.
Making this situation better, for this divorce, you represented yourself, cutting your ex wife up in court, for all her "supporters" to witness. Representing yourself in court was always a horrible idea in your line of work, especially if a loss could tank your career. However, you took a chance, succeeding. Driven only by the passion of embarrassing your ex.
For your valor and success, you'd earned the respect of Wednesday Addams. This private eye watched your crusade with absolute admiration, and she had developed an involuntary attraction to you over the month your trial went on. Your situation reminded her of her early days at Nevermore Academy, where she successfully took down her ex. Clearly reasons separate from yours but it was all the same in a sense of justice.
It was all the same in being attracted to power as well. You were great at what you do, and this just propelled you further into the totem of people Wednesday deemed worthy of attention; worthy of the Raven's Eye.
You sprinted up your stairs to your house. You unlocked the front door, entering the house with a famously happy demeanor. This had been your routine since you removed your ex from the board.
Quickly you flicked a switch, lighting your space. You removed your coat, hanging it up while you put your messenger bag on the console nearby. You peeled your feet from your shoes, shuffling them aside as your made your way upstairs. You stripped, entering a shower.
Just as you got out, and got your sleeping clothes on, your power went out.
You froze with your toothbrush hanging outside of your mouth, you snatched your brush from your mouth, "What the fuck?"
You spit, and rinsed your mouth, putting your brush away. You used your phone flashlight to light the way while you hopped down the stairs, moving through your house to find the circuit breaker. You opened the small box, flicking switches, and nothing changed. Your power was still out.
You furrowed your brows, and made your way to the front door. You peaked through the sidelites at your neighboring houses. The people who were awake had lights on, you mumbled, "What the fuck?"
You returned to your circuit breaker, playing with it some more, getting frustrated with the lack of changes. You slammed the box shut, being met with sagging face of Uncle Fester. Your skeleton leapt from your body as you punched him in the face, but he didn't move; in fact he was very unfazed.
Uncle Fester smiled at you while the laughing of none other than Lurch rung your ears from behind. You spun your heel to spot the brute smiling at you as well.
You wiped your face, raising your finger, "The two of you better explain to me what the fuck you're doing in my house, and why my goddamn power is out. Right fucking now."
Lurch groaned, and you lost your shit, you dramatically groaned back, "Ugghhh, ughhh, ughhhh," raising your hands at the large man. Lurch flinched as you went on. Lurch groaned into your face, and you rolled your eyes, yelling back, "I don't know what you're saying!!"
Lurch crossed his arms, and turned his back.
Uncle Fester spoke up, "I think I get why you're in the Raven's eye."
"The who's what?!" You shouted, facing Uncle Fester who was standing right beside you now.
He brought his hands together, "You are tough, and a bit harsh... I think you hurt Lurch's feelings."
Lurch stomped away, groaning lowly.
Uncle Fester grimaced, "Yeah, you hurt his feelings."
You shook your head, "Whoa whoa, what the hell is the Raven's eye?"
Uncle Fester perked up, "Oh, right, yeah, my niece likes you."
You crossed your arms, "Miss Addams likes me?"
"Yes."
"Yeah," you scratched your head, getting annoyed, "Sure, and why are you in my house?"
"Because she wants to go to dinner," he emphasized, "Right now."
You furrowed your brows, "Right now?"
"We're here to take you to her." Uncle Fester answered.
"Take me?!" You yelled as you were hoisted into the air by Lurch, thrown over his shoulder.
You pushed off Lurch's shoulder to no avail, and you looked at Uncle Fester, "Did she also tell you to carry me like a child?!"
Uncle Fester rubbed his hands together, sending you an apologetic smile, "Wednesday's order, not mine."
He sent a shock into the circuit breaker, turning the power back on. You groaned in defeat as Lurch carried you out of your home.
* * *
WC: 2974