The heavy tires of the warded black SUV crunched against the pristine gravel driveway of the LaRusso estate. As the engine cut off, the heavy doors opened, and the East Coast arrivals stepped out into the warm California evening.
Waiting for them on the expansive front porch were Daniel, Amanda, Richard, and Victoria. Despite Daniel's prior phone call confirming their credentials, seeing the group in person sent a visible ripple of shock through the adults.
They were undeniably teenagers.
Aleksander led the way, his posture relaxed but radiating a quiet, commanding authority. Beside him walked Sofia, her dark eyes sharp and calculating as she immediately began scanning the property. Trailing slightly behind were the ultimate study in contrasts:
Wednesday, dressed in immaculate, head-to-toe black with an expression that suggested she was contemplating murder, and Enid, practically vibrating with energy in a brightly colored, pastel outfit.
Hanging back in the shadows of the foyer, peering through the open double doors, were Sam, Tory, Aisha, and Moon.
"They look like they're in high school," Sam whispered, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.
Tory narrowed her striking green eyes, studying Wednesday's unblinking stare and Sofia's guarded stance. "Maybe. But they don't carry themselves like normal high schoolers. Look at how they're watching the street. They're on high alert."
Moon tilted her head, twisting a lock of her hair. "The girl in the colors has a really bright aura. But the one with the pigtails... it's like looking into a black hole."
Out on the porch, Daniel stepped forward, plastering on his best polite smile. "Hi. I'm Daniel LaRusso. This is my wife, Amanda, and these are Yasmine's parents, Richard and Victoria Van Der Woodsen. We appreciate you coming all this way so quickly."
"Aleksander Morozov," Aleksander replied evenly, shaking Daniel's hand before gesturing to the others. "Sofia Rivera. Enid Sinclair. And Wednesday Addams."
Amanda tried to maintain her welcoming hostess demeanor, but her maternal instincts and sheer confusion won out. She crossed her arms, offering an apologetic but firm look. "Sorry for being rude, but... aren't you a little young to be detectives? You can't be much older than our daughter."
It was the question echoing in everyone's mind, especially the four local girls eavesdropping from the doorway.
Aleksander didn't look offended. He calmly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a crisp, folded leather folio. He handed it directly to Richard.
"Our formal credentials," Aleksander stated smoothly. "Authorized and signed by Lieutenant Selena Soto of the LAPD, and counter-signed by Teresa Lisbon, Special Agent in Charge at the California Bureau of Investigation. We have full jurisdictional clearance."
Richard opened the folio, his weary eyes scanning the official government seals and signatures. It was flawlessly legitimate.
Before the adults could fully process the paperwork, Wednesday stepped forward. She leveled a deadpan, unnervingly cold stare at Amanda.
"We have solved multiple cases," Wednesday said, her voice a flat, razor-sharp monotone that made the adults instinctively stiffen. "Four of which were serial killer investigations. Three of those were cold cases that had baffled your so-called veteran authorities for decades. We specialize in the macabre, the violent, and the impossible."
She tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto Victoria's tear-stained face. "So, you tell me. Are we good for the job, or would you prefer to wait another thirty years for a result?"
The absolute silence that followed was deafening. The sheer morbid weight of her words, delivered by a teenage girl in pigtails, left Daniel, Amanda, and the Van Der Woodsens utterly speechless.
In the foyer, Tory let out a low, impressed whistle. "Okay. I like her."
Sensing the heavy, suffocating tension, Enid immediately bounced forward, her bright, chirpy energy entirely shattering Wednesday's dark atmosphere.
"It's totally public record anyway!" Enid beamed, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen rapidly with her pastel-painted nails. She spun the phone around, shoving it toward Daniel and Amanda. "Look! Here's the official Case Files Registry online. See? There are our names and photos right next to the 'Solved' stamps!"
Daniel blinked, leaning in to look at the screen. Sure enough, looking back at him were the official registry profiles of the four teenagers standing on his porch, attached to a list of closed case files with terrifyingly grim titles.
Richard handed the credentials back to Aleksander, his hands shaking slightly, but his dark brown eyes finally showing a glimmer of desperate hope.
"I don't care how old you are," Richard said, his voice thick with emotion. "If you can do what that file says you can do... please. Just find my daughter."
Aleksander gave a single, firm nod. "Then let's get to work."
Deciding not to waste any more time on useless chatter or pleasantries, Daniel pushed the double doors open and led the group inside.
Hearing the heavy footsteps approaching, the four eavesdropping girls scrambled away from the foyer. By the time Daniel escorted the East Coast detectives into the expansive living room, Sam, Tory, Aisha, and Moon had hastily arranged themselves on the far sofas, attempting to look as though they hadn't hung on every word spoken on the porch.
Aleksander didn't even glance at them. He immediately turned his attention to Richard, shifting seamlessly into interrogation mode. "Walk us through the timeline. What are the exact details of the abduction?"
Richard ran a trembling hand over his face, his silver hair catching the warm indoor lighting. "It happened two nights ago. They were leaving a party in the Hills. A black van blocked the road. Masked men grabbed Yasmine and threw her in the back. We've been waiting by the phone ever since, but... nothing. Not a single ransom call. No demands. Nothing."
A heavy, calculating silence fell over the four teenage detectives.
Aleksander, Wednesday, Enid, and Sofia exchanged brief, knowing glances. The absence of a ransom demand was a massive red flag. If it wasn't about money, it was about the victim herself. Motives like revenge, trafficking, or—given their usual line of work—something far more sinister.
"Kidnappers motivated by financial gain do not wait forty-eight hours to make demands," Wednesday noted, her voice devoid of any comforting inflection. "The longer they hold a victim, the higher their risk of capture. If they haven't asked for money, it means Yasmine herself is the currency."
Victoria let out a muffled sob, burying her face into Amanda's shoulder.
"There's something else," Daniel interjected, his voice tight but laced with a father's fierce pride. He stepped closer to the group. "When the abduction took place, Yasmine wasn't alone. My daughter, Samantha, and her friends were right there."
Aleksander's green eyes finally shifted to the four girls sitting across the room.
"The abductors didn't just want Yasmine," Daniel explained, his jaw clenching. "They attempted to take Sam, too. But Sam has been trained in Miyagi-Do karate since she was a little girl. She was able to fend off the first guy who grabbed her. When they tried to overpower her, her friend Tory—who is also a highly trained fighter—jumped in to help. They fought them off, but the men managed to drag Yasmine into the van before they could get to her."
Wednesday's posture straightened, a flicker of genuine, morbid intrigue crossing her face for the first time since they landed in California.
"A physical altercation," Wednesday said, her dark eyes locking onto Sam and Tory with intense focus. "That means there was close-quarters contact. You felt their strength, observed their fighting styles, and potentially cataloged their physical features."
She turned sharply back to Richard and Daniel. "Secondhand reports from traumatized parents and bewildered police officers are useless to us. We need to interview the witnesses. Now."
Richard and Daniel immediately agreed, looking toward the girls.
Sam stood up, smoothing down her shirt, her blue eyes meeting Aleksander's calm gaze. Tory rose right beside her, cracking her knuckles, her green eyes flashing with a sharp, combative edge. They had survived the ambush, and they were more than ready to talk.