A/N: And now, a few things I would much like to point out before we start:
1) 364wii: "I like this story a bit more every time we get a chapter. I like the mention of other cartoon characters in stories when done right which I think your doing. Ever thought of putting a mention to Fillmore that show takes place in Michigan like Loud House. I also find Logan hating Lincoln at first interesting what did Lincoln do to you buddy?"
• Me: "... Oh, Logan doesn't hate Lincoln per se, but...his contempt towards him is close enough."
2) Guest: "I appreciate that you addressed what I said in my review. It really shows that you listen to what your readers have to say. Thanks. This was quit an interesting chapter. So David and Audrey are gonna pay a visit to the Louds, eh? And Logan's taking a shot gun with him? Jesus. They're not gonna kill the Louds, are they? Though Audrey did say Just in case and that she hopes it won't come to that, so maybe things won't get ugly. I wonder what they're gonna do, question them? I should just wait until the next chapter to find out. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next."
• Me: "Logan's not with them; he's on a vigilante mission and brought two handguns plus a pair of batons. His father David is the one with the shotgun who is also aware of his son's acts of vigilantism."
2.1) Guest: "There's one thing I want to ask you. Did you know about that trope I mentioned before doing this? If not, I can understand. The trope mainly used to be used on fanfics posted on the Loud House wiki, and to my knowledge, was never used in any fics posted on this site. I don't know if you read any fics from the wiki."
• Me: "I may have did, I may have not, but...that's just me."
David and Audrey's vignette is inspired by "Bad Luck for the Louds" from the Loud House Booru, although with a different setup and modified dialogue.
Episode 4: "Damages"
(Friday, January 19th 2018)
(12:00 N)
Audrey woke up to the sound of someone walking around during the midnight hour; amazingly enough, David didn't. She couldn't blame him, however. He was getting old. They both were getting old.
Rubbing her eyes and getting up from bed, Audrey opened her closet and retrieved a double-handed broadsword before she descended downstairs to investigate. She never did like guns. As in the words of Obi-Wan Kenobi, she deemed them quote "so uncivilized". She never used any firearms of any sort until the time called for its necessary use or whenever it was relevant. Not straying from the main situation, though, she reached ground level and wielded her bladed weapon. Realizing that the sound came from the kitchen, she slowly advanced and lowered her guard upon discovering...
The sounds were actually crying.
When she turned a corner, Audrey completely let her sword drop to her side upon her eyes falling on a heart-wrenching sight. Sitting there on a stool – her head laying face down on the counter – was one of her blonde daughters sobbing her sorrows away. Judging by the black blazer, sky blue blouse with white collar, and purple skirt, it wasn't difficult to identify who blonde daughter it was.
"Lyla?"
The daughter shot her head upon hearing her name being called and felt her heart sink upon discovering the person who called her was her mother. She elicited a somber pout and glanced away, the kitchen counter capturing her interest much more than her own maternal figure was. Audrey herself placed down the sword on the counter and took a seat beside Lyla.
"Lyla. What's wrong?"
"... I don't want to talk about it."
Audrey then noticed the tape recorder being clutched tightly in Lyla's hands, but decided against mentioning it for now.
"Well, sooner or later, you're going to have to say something. Otherwise, I can't help you unless you help me."
Lyla said nothing at first, but did place the aforementioned tape recorder down in front of them both.
"They never appreciated him..."
"What was that?"
"... Lincoln makes a mistake, then he makes up for it. The series – much like the song that never ends –goes on and on. This punishment isn't just going to stop the cycle...but it's going to break it. Lincoln learns his lesson, we finish our job, and everybody in the family wins."
Confusion plagued the matriarch's mental psyche for a moment or two before she glanced at the recorder. Picking it up and hitting the 'PLAY' button, her ears perked up and her eyes widened down with every word spoken by the speaker in the message. The words spoken by Lyla were the exact same words spoken by...whoever was speaking.
"Lyla...who is this?"
"... I think it's one of his sisters."
"... Lincoln's?"
Lyla merely nodded as more incoming tears flooded her vision. Her maternal instincts kicking in, Audrey did the one thing a loving mother could do: hug the living daylights of her daughter. She hugged her daughter and smoothly rubbed her back as the waterworks placed on a rather tear-jerking performance. Noticing movement from the corner of her right eye, she recognized the form of her husband from anywhere.
"Hello, David."
"What did I miss?"
"We need to take a little visit to the Louds whenever we get the chance."
"... Okay then. Do you want me to bring my shotgun?"
Audrey shot David a stern look before rolling her eyes, "Yes, sure. Just in case. I just hope it doesn't come down to that."
"Well, on the bright side, you get to bring your sword."
"That's not funny, David."
"I know, I know. I was just trying to lighten the mood."
Lyla smiled beneath the crying, "Thanks, Dad."
David and Audrey exchanged sincere smiles as the latter helped Lyla back to bed and the former headed towards his shed to retrieve said shotgun: a Mossberg 590 with ghost ring sights and speedfeed stock. As he did, he noticed that one of his many bulletproof vests were missing...and the fact that he was beginning to speak to himself:
"Oh, Logan... I don't know what to do with you, kid. I'm not sure what your parents shaped you into, but it's not good. Everybody sees you as nothing more than a trivial and insignificant addition to a crapsack world."
David took his Mossberg, loaded the shells...
"But maybe that's a good thing. That's how you're gonna beat 'em, Logan. They keep underestimating you."
...and then pumped it.
In a dramatic fashion.
(Friday, March 2nd 2018)
(2:00 PM)
David and Audrey were able to pay the Loud House a visit on this particular Friday. The former was dressed in a brown leather jacket above a dark grey sweater (which, in turn, was worn above a black bulletproof vest), a pair of black slim fit jeans, and a pair of brown flat-bottomed boots. The latter was dressed in the same black suit when meeting Lincoln; only this time, she was equipped with a black overcoat, a black bulletproof vest, and a SIG-Sauer P226R along with a Glock 17. Continuing with the weapons of choice, David carried a Beretta 92FS along with his Mossberg 590 mounted in the back window of their black 1970 Dodge Charger R/T with a custom blower. As David drove towards Royal Woods, Audrey performed a brass check on their handguns while commenting on his clothing choice.
"You know, hon, the least you could do is look professional."
"Even without a suit, I still am."
"You put a teenager in the hospital for two months because he made Lara cry and hurt Lacey."
"Well, that bastard of a bum boyfriend had it coming. Besides, I didn't kill him or nothing; that was merely a warning shot."
"Good thing you didn't actually shoot him."
"I didn't need to. I wanted to."
The wife shot her husband a stern glare, to which the husband responded in kind to his wife: "But I didn't. Our kids couldn't bear the thought of their father and hero being a murderer."
"Well...as far as excuses go, that's reasonable. You almost made forget the reason why I married you."
"Good thing I didn't."
Audrey smiled and scoffed under her breath, handing David his Beretta 92FS as he drove. He noticed her smile and secretly smiled back. When she smiles...it sure is a pretty smile.
When they arrived at the address, the couple took a full two minutes to observe their new son's old family's location. The exterior of the house was painted white with a black colored roof, a porch on the front side, a chimney running up the left side, and a garage on the right side. The walls of the basement are made of red bricks. Judging by the slightly decrepit and worn-down structure, the house suffered from various residential failures including (but not limited to) faulty water pressure, creaky floorboards, rotting wood, a clunky furnace, crummy TV signals, doorknobs that broke off from their doors, a malfunctioning mailbox, and even a broken doorbell. And they haven't entered the household yet.
"It's somewhat like ours, except..." Audrey attempted to find a proper comparison for the residence before them, "...it's much smaller."
"And much crappier," David sneered under his breath, much to her annoyance.
"David..."
"Sorry. I couldn't resist."
"Come on. Let's get in character."
Upon arriving on the front porch, Audrey took the honor of ringing the doorbell. A moment passed before she rang again. The phrase "Third time's the charm" being foreign to them, the couple opted to investigate this time. In their attempt to open the door, the doorknob snapped off. Both exchanged glances before David resorted to kicking down the door when it didn't budge any further. Before he could, however, a male voice rang out.
"Oh, hang on there! My door does that all the time!"
"No shit," David murmured underneath his breath before Audrey shushed him as the voice called out.
"Who is it?"
"Messenger service."
The door opened and all hell was let loose.
(Friday, January 12th 2018)
(12:00 N)
BANG!
All of the people inside (teenagers included) had no chance to draw their weapons, as they were gunned down the moment the door opened. One such person drew his Heckler & Koch MP5K, but only fired it wildly into the ceiling as he was gunned down. The masked shooter was followed by two more, both of whom were masked as well and around his age.
"That was...anticlimactic."
"For lack of a better term? Sure."
"There's more. We head up."
The leader reloaded his Glock 17 and did exactly that, his two team members trailing behind. The second-in-command drew his SIG-Sauer P226R, while the muscle drew her stainless steel Taurus PT911. The resulting shootout played out like the level of a first-person shooter. Shoot, kill, reload, repeat. Blood splattered everywhere, bodies collapsed anywhere, and everything went to shit. Literally and figuratively.
Once the trio reached the "inner sanctum of the entire operation", the leader kicked down the door and aimed his Glock. Laying there smack-dab in the line of fire was a preteen boy with light brunette hair, green eyes, and a red jacket.
"Where's your brother, Harry?"
"I'm not telling."
"Look, kid...either you tell me or I'll tell your mother the goods you have in your little treasure box underneath your bed."
. . .
"He just left. Went back to the school to burn the rest."
"With Principal Walker and Vice Principal Jetson inside?"
"Most likely."
"Ugh...okay then. Here's the deal: you, your brother, and his friends are going to stay away from Lincoln Loud. He doesn't deserve this."
"You're right...but his sister does."
"Which one?"
"The brunette with the red-and-white sports jersey."
'Ugh, Lynn. Typical...'
"What did she do, Harry?"
"From what I've heard...she struck my brother in the head with a baseball bat after he threw a winning pitch at her."
"Ha. Based on what happened a few months ago...they both deserved it."
"What happened a few months ago?"
"The short version: Lynn fucked up when she accused Lincoln of being bad luck."
"Yikes. She believed that?"
"The entire family did."
"Whoa."
"Whoa indeed."
Logan holstered his Glock and faked a smile underneath his mask.
"Thank you for your time, Harry. I will, uh...see you at a later date."
"You're going to kill him, aren't you?"
Logan, Gina, and Harry each shot Robbie a barrage of facial expressions that were among the lines of "Are you shitting us, Robbie?"
"I guess not...?"
Present Day. . .
Lynn Sr. stared at the couple before him and examined them from head to toe. He clearly wasn't expecting any visitors today, as he dropped any sense he had of being tired and brushed the dust off his clothing.
"Um, can I help you folks with something in particular?"
"Yes, sir, you can," Audrey stepped forward, "My name is Audrey Duncan and this is my husband David. Where's your wife Rita?"
"She's inside," Lynn replied, "but we're getting ready to go somewhere. Our children – "
"Can surely survive your absences for a hour or two," David interjected, prompting a glare from Audrey.
"David. Remember why we're here."
"Right." Turning back to face Lynn with a scowl, David continued, "We know exactly what you and Rita did, Mr. Loud. You think you could just lock one of your own outside because of "bad luck" and get away with it?"
"It...it was an accident – "
"Oh, bullshit. I don't think child abuse counts as an accident, Mr. Loud."
"... What? No...we never hurt Lincoln. We would never hurt him or our daughters."
"Not physically, at least," David's grip on his Beretta tightened, "If so, I would've shot you dead."
"Lynn! Who's at the door?"
The three adults glanced inside to find Rita heading down the stairs wearing her signature pink-and-purple uniform. "Oh, hello. How can I help you?"
"Rita..." Lynn hesitated to continue, "They know."
Rita's once cheerful attitude was instantly replaced with that of dread. She nodded in understanding and let the couple enter. They all took seats at the living room couches. For a moment, nothing but silence floated around the household.
"So...what can we do for you?"
"Mrs. Loud, my name is Audrey Duncan and this is my husband David. We have come to sadly inform you that Lincoln Loud is no longer your son."
"W...what?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Loud. A reliable source has informed my husband and I that your methods of parenting have become...questionable following the first loss of your daughter's baseball game. Banning your son from your family activities, selling his furniture, locking him outside, forcing him to wear a squirrel costume to suppress his quote "bad luck"...and that's just the tip of the iceberg."
Clearly angry but quite adept at not letting her anger be known, Audrey took a deep breath before continuing on. "You two should have come to your senses and seen the pain you've put your son through. Instead, you didn't do shit. As of this moment, you no longer have custody of your son. He is currently under the care of a loving family with siblings that equally love him back; if any of you even come up with the "brilliant" idea of trying to bring him back, we'll be having a field day in court."
"Personally, I'm glad he's in safer hands." David stood up at the same time as Audrey, "The type of people like you sicken me."
As they turned to leave, Rita lunged at Audrey before Lynn or David could stop her. "WAIT! We're sorry! You're right! We haven't been good parents, but w-we can be better! Please don't take our son away from us! We want to let him know he means a lot to us! PLEASE!"
"You had your chance!" That time, David pulled out and aimed his Beretta 92FS at a stunned silent Rita and a horrified Lynn, who finally got off his ass from the couch to pry his wife away from the armed and dangerous husband. Audrey took the time to calm her loved one down and persuade him to not kill anyone here today. She shot the couple a much-needed sympathetic and apologetic look before they left the house, David slamming the door behind them.
Rita could fall down to her knees and weep into her hands, Lynn hugging her in comfort.
We're sorry, Lincoln... We all really are...
A/N: It's unsurprisingly rushed. Yeah, sorry not sorry.