(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...
Guys If You are Interested in Marvel Fic then I hope to present you my new fic...
Marvel: Starting as Ghost Rider!!!
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....
Addams Family Mansion...
Meanwhile, inside the Addams family mansion, the atmosphere in Wednesday's room was considerably less welcoming than the one Jojo had experienced outside his own mansion.
The curtains were drawn, the room was dimly lit, and several peculiar objects were scattered across the desk and shelves, each one looking as though it belonged in a laboratory, an antique shop, or a particularly disturbing museum.
Hanging upside down from the ceiling was the strange doll Wednesday had made from several pillows stitched together.
The crude figure had Jojo's face drawn across it, and judging by the numerous puncture marks covering its body, it had clearly been used far more often than any ordinary pillow had a right to be.
Wednesday sat at her desk with complete concentration, holding a freshly sharpened pencil between her fingers.
She slowly dragged the tip of the pencil across the pad of her index finger, carefully testing its sharpness.
There was no fear or hesitation in her expression.
Instead, her eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction when the pencil passed her test.
Anyone unfamiliar with Wednesday would probably have assumed she was holding a small knife rather than an ordinary pencil, especially considering the almost delighted expression that appeared on her face.
Across the desk, Thing watched her for several seconds before raising one of his fingers and tapping against the wooden surface.
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
Wednesday did not look up.
Thing continued, using the strange combination of Morse code and expressive gestures that had become their usual method of communication.
His fingers moved rapidly across the table, followed by a few impatient gestures toward the pillow doll and then toward the notebook in front of her.
His message was obvious enough even without knowing every detail of their communication.
"What are you doing?"
Wednesday gave no answer.
Instead, she lowered the pencil onto the paper and began drawing.
Her movements were precise, almost mechanical.
Lines appeared across the page, followed by measurements, angles, mechanical components, tubes, rotating mechanisms, clamps, pressure chambers and several interconnected systems.
Every few seconds she stopped to sharpen another section of the design, then continued without ever appearing uncertain about what she wanted to create.
Thing leaned closer.
At first, the drawing looked almost respectable.
It could have been the blueprint for some complicated engineering project, perhaps a machine designed by an unusually talented inventor.
Wednesday carefully labelled different sections, added measurements, adjusted the positioning of several components and even erased a portion before redrawing it.
Thing's fingers slowly curled in confusion.
Wednesday finally placed the pencil down.
She leaned back in her chair and examined the completed blueprint with quiet satisfaction.
Only then did the true purpose of the machine become apparent.
It was a torture device.
The design consisted of a restrained chair surrounded by a complicated mechanical frame, with a series of drilling mechanisms positioned around the victim's head and spinal column.
Tubes connected the apparatus to several sealed containers, and Wednesday had carefully designed the system so that corrosive chemicals could be pumped through the machine after the drills had done their work.
Every part had been calculated with disturbing precision, from the restraints to the mechanical arms and even the system intended to control the flow of the acid.
Thing stared at the blueprint.
Then he slowly turned toward Wednesday.
His fingers began moving rapidly.
Wednesday watched him for several seconds before calmly picking up her pencil again.
"It's only a prototype," she said.
Thing froze.
Wednesday's eyes returned to the blueprint.
"I haven't decided whether the acid should be injected before or after the drilling."
Thing immediately began waving his fingers in increasingly frantic gestures.
Wednesday finally glanced at him.
"What?"
Thing pointed toward the pillow doll hanging from the ceiling, then toward the blueprint, and finally made a questioning gesture.
Wednesday understood perfectly.
"You mean Jojo?"
Thing nodded.
A faint smile appeared on Wednesday's face.
"I'm not planning to use it on him."
Thing relaxed slightly.
Wednesday paused.
"Yet."
Thing immediately slapped his palm against his forehead.
Wednesday ignored him and returned her attention to the blueprint, her expression becoming thoughtful as she examined one of the mechanical components.
"Besides,"
she continued calmly,
"I have already discovered something much more interesting about him."
Thing stopped complaining and looked at her.
Wednesday's eyes shifted toward the upside-down pillow doll.
"That face."
She slowly tapped the pencil against the desk.
"I drew it years ago."
Thing's fingers moved more slowly this time, asking the question that had been bothering both of them since their encounter with Jojo.
How?
Wednesday stared at the crude face stitched onto the pillow.
For once, she did not immediately have an answer.
And that was precisely what made the entire situation interesting.
Wednesday was still staring at the strange blueprint when the sound of footsteps approaching her room interrupted her thoughts.
She did not bother turning around at first.
Thing, however, immediately noticed who was coming and turned toward the door just as it opened.
Pugsley stood there, looking into the room with his usual curious expression.
"Wednesday, Mother said she wants you downstairs,"
he said, already preparing to leave.
"She told me to bring you immediately."
Wednesday slowly turned her head toward her younger brother.
Her expression remained completely neutral, but something in her eyes changed when she looked at him.
It was the same expression Thing had learned to fear over the years, the expression that usually meant Wednesday had just thought of something that would make everyone else reconsider their life choices.
"Pugsley," she said.
Pugsley stopped.
Wednesday pushed her chair away from the desk and stood up.
"You arrived at an interesting time. I have just invented a new game."
Pugsley stared at her suspiciously.
"A game?"
"Yes."
"What kind of game?"
Wednesday's lips curled into the faintest smile.
"One that requires courage, endurance and a willingness to experience several unpleasant sensations."
Pugsley's expression immediately became cautious.
Behind Wednesday, Thing began waving his fingers frantically.
At first, Pugsley did not understand what he was trying to say.
Thing pointed toward Wednesday, then toward the blueprint on the desk, then repeatedly made a cutting motion with one finger before pointing toward Pugsley and shaking his hand violently.
Pugsley's eyes slowly widened.
Thing continued.
He pointed at the machine blueprint, mimed drilling into his own head, then pretended to collapse onto the table.
Pugsley stared at him.
"Is he telling me not to play your game?" he asked.
Wednesday looked at Thing.
Thing froze.
Wednesday then turned back toward Pugsley.
"Thing is being unnecessarily dramatic."
Thing immediately slapped both palms against the desk in protest.
Pugsley looked from Thing to the blueprint.
Then back to Wednesday.
"What exactly is the game?"
Wednesday walked toward him, completely ignoring Thing's increasingly desperate Morse-code warning signals.
"It involves a chair, several mechanical devices, precise timing and a small amount of chemistry."
Pugsley took one step backward.
Thing immediately gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Wednesday tilted her head.
"You don't look interested."
"I suddenly remembered that Mother is waiting for you downstairs."
"She can wait."
"She specifically said immediately."
Wednesday considered that for a moment.
Then she looked at Pugsley again.
"Very well. We can play after I speak with Mother."
Pugsley visibly relaxed.
Thing, meanwhile, pointed at Pugsley and then repeatedly made a gesture that clearly meant DO NOT AGREE TO ANYTHING.
Pugsley nodded subtly.
"I understand," he whispered.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes.
"What are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing," Pugsley replied far too quickly.
Wednesday stared at him.
Pugsley stared back.
Thing slowly hid himself behind the edge of the desk.
After several seconds, Wednesday simply picked up her notebook and walked toward the door.
"Come along, Pugsley."
Pugsley followed her immediately, making absolutely certain that there was enough distance between them to prevent Wednesday from suddenly changing her mind.
As they walked down the corridor, Thing remained behind in the bedroom, staring at the terrifying blueprint.
Then he looked toward the door through which Wednesday had disappeared.
He slowly raised one finger.
Then another.
And began counting.
Whatever Wednesday had planned, Thing clearly intended to make sure Pugsley survived long enough to complain about it later.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
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