Hi, everyone, MarcellusMiro66 here! This is another Loud House story, another potential Cartoon Crossover, and another series of interconnected short stories. The main genres are fantasy, supernatural, and action with a dash of martial arts / anime, horror, and musical for good measure.
In the midst of the infamous Brawl in the Family episode, Lincoln is unceremoniously greeted by an ambush by his sisters (excluding Lily), who have all reached a common target (i.e., That Engineer's Syngenesophobia). When he lands in the hospital because of said ambush, he is spirited away to a certain kind of Hell for troubled young souls like himself.
The story's plot and style is inspired by Psycho, Twisted Nerve, Suspiria, Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Hellraiser, Saw, and Hostel among many others, with references to Alice in Wonderland, Lady Snowblood, Death Wish, Taxi Driver, Kite, and Ghost in the Shell. Expect numerous Shout-Outs to follow.
Enjoy! If you can...
Part #1: Down The Rabbit Hole
(Friday, May 6th 2016)
(6:00PM)
Day 1. . .
Lincoln Loud's unconscious self laid on the hospital bed for almost six hours. Despite the hospital harboring some of the best doctors and nurses the entire city of Royal Woods could offer, they still couldn't revive him in the first five. Then, with a stroke of luck, his heart began to beat.
He wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill them.
If he got the chance, of course.
He didn't, however. Instead, he waited for the opportunity to strike. That, and he was tired. Tired from the brutal beat-em-ups inflicted upon him by his sisters. His own sisters, damn it. For some damned reason, they beat him up. Obviously, they were angry with him. Why they were angry with him, he didn't know. All he knew was this: their absolute anger was ten times (no pun intended) powerful than the video contest. He shuddered at the memory as he drifted back to sleep.
It was in his sleep that he realized the reason: the Sister Fight Protocol. He woke up to find Luna and Luan fighting over whether or not Lori and/or Leni were in the wrong, leading to incidental insults and the separation of the two; much like Lori and Leni's case, his room was used as a spot to house one of them temporarily. Lisa had told him that the fight has escalated, his panicking parents locking themselves in their room with Lily. The protocol was continued, but the two youngest twins (Lola and Lana) just had to cross paths with the two oldest (Luna and Luan), causing another fight. Lucy added on by criticizing Lynn for "slacking on the job", Lisa now frightened by this overblown disaster joining in the fight as well. Unsure what to do, Lincoln could only flee the house for the rest of the day. Little did he know, the sisters had reached an exact epiphany. It wasn't a good one.
Not...One...Bit.
Lincoln could only realize his regret as he silently sobbed himself to sleep.
Outside...
"I should've done something, Lynn..."
Lynn Sr. turned towards Rita, "What?"
"I should've done something to prevent Lincoln from getting hurt..."
"We should've done something, Rita. It's not your fault..."
"You're right, honey. It's ours. We should've been much more responsible parents. Not just us, but...our daughters. Lily aside, they're all...disobedient. Distrusting. Dangerous..."
Rita buried his hands in her face upon realizing what she was saying, "Oh, what am I saying? Then I'll be no better than the rest of them, my own daughters."
"That's right, honey. It's nobody's fault here. However, our daughters had a decision to choose from; they chose to hospitalize their only brother and our only son. They need to be punished."
"You're right."
(Friday, May 13th 2016)
(6:00PM)
Day #8. . .
The first week had passed by like a speeding bullet. Lincoln Loud never seemed to wake up from his circulating coma, the term "coma" being used very loosely here. Having coming to terms with their near fatal flaw (a mere few minutes after, no less), his sisters came to visit him in the hospital, but his parents refused to let them near - not out of spite, but out of fear. They feared of not what would happen to Lincoln if they were near, but of what would happen to their daughters if he was near. They did, however, let the rest of Lincoln's friends (Ronnie Anne and Clyde included) slide; they were currently debating whether of not that was a mistake. Ronnie Anne was angry that she threatened to fight Lynn after school next Friday, whilst Clyde was so angry that he threatened to have a restraining order filed upon and only Lori.
Lincoln himself didn't mind. As long as he had peace and quiet with no disturbances, he would recover just like that.
He almost gave away his act when he caught wind of the punishments given out to each of his sisters (Lily not withstanding). He didn't spat out a sour something like "Ha! In your fucking faces, bitches!" No, he would do nothing of the sort.
Hell, he wouldn't even hurt a fly...
Besides, he still had to latch onto the fact that this entire mess was that much of his fault as his sisters. Still, did they really have to beat him up out of revenge? He was pretty sure that act qualifies as overreacting. Still, he was the one who didn't stop himself before butting in his two eldest sister's debacle. Case in point...
Why else would he be here now?
(Friday, May 20th 2016)
(7:00PM)
Day #15. . .
The second week had passed by like a bullet train. Lincoln Loud never left the comfort of his hospital bed; the rare time he did, he said nothing. He would only nod and shake his head. Any visiting psychiatrist would immediately identify this as a sign of recovering from shock. The thought of one being beat by that one's own sibling was enough for even the calm and collected ones to explode in fury and horror. 'Horror... Oh, the horror!' Lincoln thought as he stood up from bed, attracting the attention of a young nurse. Said young nurse helped him up after he explained the "situation" beforehand.
'Oh, the stereotypical nurse that would exist in your wildest fantasies. Blonde hair, white outfit, and the bombshell blue eyes; what's not to like? And to fuck, too? She seemed around Lori's age. I bet she can handle the pressure, assuming that she's a big girl...unlike those blonde bimbos and brunette bitches that I call my sisters - well, not including Lily, of course - and the Mexicunt of my so-called girlfriend. I want a lover, not a beater.'
Lincoln arrived at the bathroom a lot sooner than later and was ushered inside by Nurse Crane, who smiled sincerely at him as the door closed. He went Number One and washed his hands before his face. The mirror he chose to gaze his reflection into had a monster's face scribbled into it, his own face corresponding to create an equal image. 'Is that what I am? Am I destined to become a... A monster? It's certainly conceivable from what sins I've committed; my own selfish actions had led me down this path of darkness that I'm doomed to reside in for the rest of my heartless life.'
Cue the monotone Mood Whiplash.
'Then again...there's always Cristina.'
(Friday, May 27th 2016)
(6:00PM)
Day #22. . .
The third week...was actually slow and sluggish to say the least. It was certainly a first in the first two weeks since his hospitalization. Rule of Three states, however, that after three strikes...something's bound to happen.
Well, something did happen.
And it was not good.
"Lincoln's gone!"
"WHAT?!"
"Lincoln's gone, sir! His room has been rummaged through, and there's blood everywhere - ! OH, GOD!"
"What's the matter? Oh... JESUS CHRIST!"
Nurse Crane laid there on the floor, her naked body covered with cuts and sprinkled with slashes. Bruises and whip marks complimented the pivotal part of the crime scene to behold. Whoever did this to her took Lincoln.
Of course, that part would be obvious.
(8:00PM)
Hour #2. . .
Lincoln's eyes fluttered open and he saw nothing but black...pitch black. When he breathed, a swirl of air accompanied it. 'Okay, Lincoln. You're in a cold place. A VERY cold place. Keep calm and stay warm.' He actually was. He glanced down and took in the clothes he was wearing now. It was a dark blue leisure suit with a blondish long-sleeve collared shirt, a matching tie in a Windsor Knot, and a pair of black ankle boots. Not straying from the topic of black, a jet-black trench coat was hung on a coat rack with others; by the coat rack near the wall was a worktable with - among other objects - a rectangular box in front display. His curiosity getting the best of him, Lincoln approached the table and shifted the box to where it faced him. Pulling the cover open, his curiosity only increased even further when he laid his pair of eyes on the contents: a Beretta 92FS Centurion, a Galco Royal Guard Inside-The-Waistband holster, and a small box of bullets.
Lincoln cocked his head in confusion as to why a handgun and additional ammunition would be left unattended or (presumably) left for him to (presumably) use. He never used a gun before, nor had no current desire to do so. Still, he took into account that he was in a VERY cold and dark place, both of those factors combined making for a VERY unpleasant and uncanny experience. For that very reason, Lincoln took the handgun and its bullets. He also donned the jet-black trench coat, which he hid the box in; after loading the Beretta, which he also tucked away in the IWB holster, he glanced around and settled back on the coat rack, contemplating whether or not he should take the rest of the clothes. He eventually decided against it, believing that he was warm enough. No door in sight, Lincoln climbed out of the only window, landed on the snowy streets, and ran off to get a good start. He remained unaware that another formed to the right of it.
Lincoln was hellbent to figure where he was and why to even notice, however.
(10:00PM)
Hour #4. . .
The Royal Woods Police Department had been trained to handle certain situations with certain grisly subject matters. They were trained to handle double homicides, gang shootouts, and even child molestation sites. To say that they were undoubtedly unprepared would be the ultimate understatement of the 21st century.
"Oh, to hell with it. I'll just GET OUT and say it: they were totally unprepared!"
The senior detectives stood there with their jaws hanging and daring to scrap the hospital floor, the rookie detectives stood there with their jaws hanging and actually scrapping the hospital floor as they vomited out of disgust, the other officers just stood there. While they expressed shock and stress, they didn't explicitly do so. Instead, they meticulously masked it with an absolutely apathetic appearance as they examined the crime scene. One of them broke away from them as he approached the Loud Family, specifically the parents, and discarded her formerly emotionless exterior, reverting to an interested interior,
"Well...it's nothing we've ever seen before, I'll tell you that."
"What happened?" The mother Rita approached the detective, the youngest daughter Lily in her arms, "Where's my son?"
"I honestly have no idea, Mrs. Loud." The police detective shook her head in uncertainty, but attempted to reassure her when she noticed her despondent demeanor, "Don't worry. We'll find your son as soon as we can. I can tell you this: whoever - or whatever - hurt the nurse didn't seem to hurt your son. This doesn't rule out the possibility of the man - or creature - being extremely dangerous."
"Just please... Please find my son." Rita felt her husband Lynn Sr.'s hand of reassurance being placed on her shoulder. He stepped forward and tilted his head,
"Officer...how do you know the thing who took our son and raped that nurse is not a mere man?"
The police detective merely shrugged in response, "Just a mere hunch."
(12:00M)
Hour #6. . .
Six hours. Lincoln was stuck here for six fucking hours. He ran down the current street he was on and slowed down to a stop. His eyes were tearing up, considering that six hours of loneliness could do things to you. He was full of despair, hopelessness, and...regret. The same feeling he felt whilst in the hospital. Was he really doomed to this fatal fate? Was it really too late to make amends? Was the frightful fantasy really a reviled reality consisting of his devilish demons?
Six hours. Lincoln was stuck here for six fucking hours. He could only fall down to his knees and scream out in anguish:
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! I'M JUST AN ELEVEN-YEAR-OLD BOY, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"
That, and he subsequently curled into a ball and continued his crying. For approximately five minutes.
"Are you okay, dear?"
Lincoln's ears perked up and his head shot up in alarm, swiftly spinning around for any sign of life besides himself, "Who's there?"
"Right behind you, dear."
Lincoln turned around and glanced up at the source of the voice. He wasn't shaken by the fact that the voice's source was a real-life ghost; no, he was shaken by the form that this particular ghost decided to take. It was an anthropomorphic pig with pear green eyes and a jet-black sparkle-sprinkled performance outfit with a peacock tail.
"I'm being serious, though. Are you okay?"
Lincoln blinked in bewilderment, "Yeah..." Before he fainted into unconsciousness.
The pig blinked in bewilderment as well, "It must be the outfit..." Before he floated down to his level and attempted to wake him up.
"Umm, sweetie...? Sweetie...? I'm sorry if I scared you like that... If you want, I can just change into another outfit - "
It would too certain to call it a coincidence when Lincoln suddenly jolted awake by the time that request left her mouth. He looked around and found the pig in his view, his eyes blinking in bewilderment just as before. He slowly stood up and backed up, his hands raised in insistence,
"Okay. So...you're real, and so is this place."
"Yes, but this does not mean that I'm going to hurt you."
"I don't know that."
"Of course you do; I just told you just ten seconds ago."
"...Oh. Well, in this case, do you know where I am?"
"...Well, to be honest, I don't know. We've been here for two nights now, so... My best guess is that this place is a certain kind of Hell."
"...Well, that's neat. Wait... We've? There's more of you?"
"Yes. They're...my family of sorts. We met just a few months ago. Despite that, we were tight like glue and would protect each other no matter what. ... Did you have a family?"
"..." Lincoln had trouble saying either "Yes" or "No", so he settled on an "I used to."
Her expression softened even further and knew she could relate, "Oh, you poor thing. Come on, we have to seek shelter; there's a snowstorm heading our way."
Lincoln nodded in agreement, following the pig as she walked north, "So, do you have a name?"
"Yes, ma'am. It's Lincoln, Lincoln Loud."
The pig smiled the warmest smile this winter could offer, "Mine's Rosita. Rosita Chavez."