Chapter Seventeen: Let's Get Loud
Lincoln's thoughts, having wandered to Lucy, turned a little bleak as he hoped she was doing all right back home. He knew, though, that if she needed anything, she'd just show up. If something was after her, this time, it would be easier for her to escape not having to worry about Lily. That's right, Lily! He chuckled to himself when he thought of her, that bundle of joy that they all knew and loved, she was probably out adventuring this time of day in the woods like Lana used to, or maybe she was playing one of his old video games? Being the youngest, she'd gotten every single hand-me-down imaginable. Set for life, if he'd say so himself.
He was glad that Lucy's spell had done it's job, and knew his youngest sister was the safest of them all... For now, according to the morbid witch girl. She'd sworn to him that Lily was something else, something special, something that the Universe itself needed in existence. But Lucy was always cryptic with her knowledge, now, she started to sound more like Thoth by the day. She had chosen a path of least interference, preferring to keep most of her secrets to herself, and he supposed that he wouldn't have his sister any other way than as such.
He pulled into the circle drive of the old folk's home. It looked peaceful.
He made sure to pull forward from the door a bit in case anyone was dropping someone off, this place lacked a formal parking lot, so he'd have to leave his car here. He put it in park, disengaged the engine, and stepped out of the vehicle. When he arrived at the door and opened it, he was greeted by Sue, whom he'd figured by now might end up in the elder's home herself. She was greying, but still had a look of energy to her.
"...It's you," she said, narrowing her eyes, recognizing him immediately. He gave her a knowing smile.
"Yep. It's still visiting hours, so where is he?" he asked, keeping it brief, and she pointed upward, he was in his room. Not that typical, even for his age, Albert was a very spry person and although he was pushing his young seventies, he knew that would never slow the man down.
So he went upstairs.
Knocking on his grandfather's door, he waited with his hands in the bottom two pockets of his jacket, fingers playing with the orange flip-knife he always carried around. He found it always eased his anxiety, just running his fingers over the sheathed thing, it's carbon steel blade tucked neatly into the handle. It gave something for his fingers to do, and the added idea of protection.
After a minute or so, his grandfather answered the door, and for a moment, standing in the doorway, he gazed upon his youthful spawn, and the mirror image of himself yet younger settled into an eerie scene. They were both wearing their military jackets. They both laughed. Despite the fact that Albert was older, his hair was the same white it had always been, and he was wrinkled now, and leaning on a cane, but when he walked inside and waved for Lincoln to enter, he moved with a speed most seniors could only dream of.
"I had thought I heard rumor of you in town," Pop Pop said, and Lincoln beamed.
"And I'm surprised I haven't heard you're dead yet, old geezer," he responded lovingly, teasing him on his age. This got a mild chuckle from the elder man, they'd always been close enough to joke.
"Welp, if Charlie couldn't kill me, who can?" he questioned back, and Lincoln took a seat on his grandfather's rocking chair, the familiar lion's heads on the end of the arm rests prompted his fingers to wander over their intricate surfaces. Nostalgia came to him, he'd sat in this chair many times before ever since he was a wee lad.
"Actually, that's why I'm here!" Lincoln said excitedly, "I had stopped by to see ol' Mister Grouse, and he told me how you two were in the War together."
Albert stopped where he stood, having gone to fetch some lemonade for his grandson. He turned and looked over his shoulder knowingly.
"That old coot, huh? Did he tell ya I saved his bloody life?" When Lincoln nodded at him, he laughed again, and poured two glasses of lemonade, hooking his cane over his arm so he could carry them over to the coffee table. He set them down, then leaned on his cane again.
"Of course, that's when he met you," Lincoln noted, and the man laughed again. That was one thing he loved about his Pop Pop, he was always smiling, always laughing... Even after the horrible things he'd seen.
"Here, lemme show ya something," he said, and he stroked his mustache, and walked to a wardrobe in the corner. Lincoln noted that he lacked the distinct shakiness of an old person, which Grouse did not, he looked maybe ten years younger than he actually was. Pretty normal for the man, he assumed.
When Albert opened the armoire, Lincoln gasped. Inside was all of his old war trophies, set up like a shrine, his uniform hanging in the center, and from a hook above that, where his head used to rest in the neck of the jacket coated in ribbons, was a helmet. It was this helmet that Albert grasped. He took it to the table, and set it down.
Written on the side of the helmet, in bold black letters, was a phrase he'd heard a few times from other family members, but he'd had no idea it came from his grandfather.
Let's Get Loud, it said.
Pinned to the helmet was a small peace sign, he'd known his grandfather to be a draftee, and figured this was his way of being rebellious at the fact he'd been forced to fight.
"I'm surprised it survived the war," he said, noting to Lincoln how often the original helmet of a soldier was dented too much, or gouged through by a near-miss bullet, or the like.
"I'm surprised you survived the war," Lincoln said, and he nodded and took a seat to sip at some lemonade. Delicious lemonade. Lincoln joined him. Refreshing lemonade. Yes.
"So I guess he mentioned the attack on the old Imperial capital, huh?" Lincoln nodded.
"A bloody nightmare, that one... Still dream about it sometimes. I hate seeing the faces of everybody I killed, but I won't be naive and call it murder. It was them or us, that's just the way it goes... Kill or be killed, because Charlie sure wasn't going to stop just for your pacifist ways. I've seen too many heads explode, too many limbs torn off, too many burning people, bodies... I'm glad your time in the military never saw you shipped off to combat. You wouldn't have liked it." He was a bit somber about it, probably about as dreary as the chipper man ever got, but Lincoln understood and gave him sympathetic eyes.
"Even then, I've seen things that are just as bad as war," Lincoln noted, frowning intensely, a look drawing over his face that surprised even Albert, for the fact of the matter was he was telling the truth. He thought maybe he should pry into that statement, but he wasn't sure what effect that might have on Lincoln...
"What do you mean?" he asked, and Lincoln flinched, like he was snapping out of a memory. He'd seen that before, Albert had, from his soldier friends. The kid wasn't lying.
"Just death," he said casually, "once you've seen it, it's hard to get over."
He definitely thought not to pry any further.
Albert finished his lemonade, and smacked his lips at the tangy substance, then stood slowly again.
"Here, I want to give you something," he said, and shuffled back over to the cabinet containing his war mementos. Reaching to the bottom, where his uniformed picture with his unit sat, he grasped a small object, and brought it over, handing it to Lincoln.
"This is the souvenir I stole from the Imperial Citidel in Huế. They say it's good luck, protects you." In his hand, he placed a small figurine of a faceless, featureless person, whom carried some sorts of tools, an inscription in a language he didn't recognize around the base. He smiled.
"Then I'll carry it with me," he said.
The rest of their time was spent catching up, and Albert told him some of his war stories, about the more gruesome side of the war, about the rape of the Southern Vietnamese people at the hands of their Northern oppressors, of the massacre at Huế, of the mutilations, and the death. Oddly enough, however, all of this comforted Lincoln. It was nice to hear about a story of blood that didn't involve something supernatural for once.
When he was finished there, he went back to his car after exchanging loving goodbyes with his long-time friend and grandfather. As he sat in the front seat, his hand wandered over the statuette he'd been given. He wasn't sure of it's significance, but as fate would have it, Thoth had graced him with the insight that it was important. Best take it to Lucy later... She'd know what to do with it.
Lincoln's mind wandered back to where it had left off thinking about that time at the pool, about Lucy's first plight. What was it Lynn had said again?
"I definitely care!" Lynn shouted, fist balled in Luan's shirt, holding her other fist cocked and ready to throw it at her stupid sister's face. The comedian antagonized her further.
"Like I said, you shouldn't care. Lincoln's not going to." She growled, and pitched her sister sideways into the wall of the hallway, doubling up on that and pulling her slightly forward to slam her backward again.
"Listen, Luan. I don't need your shit today. Today's important to me. And I know how much you just want to fuck that up! But you know what? Your stupid bullshit can't ruin it. You hear me?!" She clenched her fist harder, and Luan raised her hands in mock defeat.
"Oh, no, big bad Lynn once again ignores reality. What a surprise. You know, I bet he liked it ten times better coming from me," she said, with a malicious grin, the last part referring to the sexual conduct they'd gotten up to, and Lynn knew it. She threw a punch, square into the comedian's solar plexus, the telltale wheeze letting her know she'd knocked the wind right out of her sister's ability to be smug. She let her drop and gasp on the floor, strained for breath.
"Who's laughing now? Idiot..." Lynn went back to her room, leaving her sibling to think about her actions through the pain and the need for sweet breath. Lucy was sitting on the bed, meditating, a task she performed at least twice a day now, for what reason, she couldn't tell.
"You didn't have to be so uncaring about it," Lucy deadpanned, as if she'd witnessed everything that had just happened. Lynn was used to this sort of talk, even if she never in her life fully grasped how Lucy just seemed to pull it out of thin air.
"What was I supposed to do? She's trying to press my buttons again. I know Lincoln's going to come through. He always does, right?" She seemed to doubt herself here, and Lucy sighed.
"Yes. Right," she replied, her voice a flat mumble. She went back to her deliberation, specifically, she was consulting the Book of Thoth on the subject of hexes, divining knowledge of something she could use to further her goals of keeping the Invisible Ones at bay. Lynn of course, had no idea this was happening, to her it just seemed like Lucy was distracted trying to 'clear her mind' or something.
"Yeah, well, he'd better... I've got a lot riding on this match. I just don't think I can win without him... It's..." How was she supposed to put it to Lucy? From what she knew, the girl hadn't ever found out about her sexual encounters with her brother, but Lincoln was her moral support. This was the biggest boxing match she'd ever be a part of, it was for the title of Junior Lightweight Champion of the entire state, so when Luan had insinuated he was going to miss it, of course she'd cared.
"It's important, I heard," Lucy offered, finishing her sentence, and Lynn sighed, slumping onto the bed. There was only an hour before they needed to leave, and he hadn't come home yet...
Elsewhere, Lincoln was pressed for time. He hated the fact that Lucy had tasked him with something so important on a day where he had something that, to him, was more important, but Lucy had insisted. He was gathering herbs in the woods, specific ones, a small botanical reference manual the only thing he'd had to go by, since he had no prior knowledge of the properties and importance of individual leaf quality. He was supposed to get the best samples he could find, specifically the one of most importance was a pure sample of Yarrow, a plant native to Michigan which bloomed this time of year, early summer, he needed the longest Yarrow leaf he could find, and a bud of the purest white of it's flower.
The only problem was, the nearest source of Yarrow landed him just over the line to the next Nome, one of the sacred magical countries defined by the Map of Thoth, and in that Nome there lived other magic users, one in particular nearby where he was searching.
That man was a sorcerer.
Sorcerers were of course something he'd heard about, and Lucy had given him the rundown on it, she'd placed in his possession a pendant he was to wear about his neck, depicting the reversed Eye of Horus, commonly associated with Thoth, which he'd chosen to take to calling it the Eye of Thoth for this reason, though she'd assured him there was no such thing by name. His fingers played with it as he walked through the woods.
He was only a couple miles away from home, but he noticed the landmark in this area, the telltale sign of the train tracks breaching through the forests, creating a clearing that stretched endlessly to wherever their destination lie.
He'd been given very specific instructions NOT to walk the train tracks alone.
Sticking to the forest, a well-overgrown service path from back in the days when they'd needed such things for the railroad, he approached his destination cautiously.
Lucy had instructed him that the best samples of Yarrow he would find would be in the sorcerer's garden, and he gulped as he came to the cabin. Out front of it was that very garden, blooming with all sorts of plants of various sizes and colors. He spotted the white bushels of Yarrow flowers, and a couple other plants that might fit the bill for what Lucy was looking for.
He tried to stick to the brush, luckily he'd brought his fake army jacket, covered in woodland camouflage, that he used to use to play pretend with Clyde or on the various missions he'd go on with his best friend. To comfort himself, he decided to give this one a name.
Operation Take-The-Stupid-Flowers-And-Don't-Get-Lightning-Bolted. Perfect.
As he crept through the bushes, circling ever closer, he was forced with a gasp to stop and hold perfectly still as the door to the cabin flew open. Through it stepped a hooded figure, his black cloak lined at the base with various hieroglyphs. He noticed one recurred often, the symbol of a long snake with four bends in it's body, each bend topped with a long line, including one on it's head. For some reason he found it strange, since he hadn't really seen that symbol anywhere else as of yet.
The sorcerer went through his garden, kneeling, plucking at some plants, and returned inside after a brief pause at the door. Lincoln practically held his breath the whole time, not wanting to be discovered. One the door shut, he figured he should act quickly, and he shuffled around a bush, the light disturbance causing some quiet noise but as the man didn't come back outside, he was able to approach the Yarrow and find the longest leaf and the whitest bud, or at least what he hoped were both of these things, and he picked them, placing them in the satchel at his side. He went for the secondary herbs next, plucking various sprigs or flowers.
But unfortunately for him, he stepped on a branch, which snapped, and a couple seconds later, that door flew open again. The sorcerer stood, face shadowed by his hood, a crystal ball clutched in one hand. His other hand's fingers went immediately into play, and Lincoln's eyes went wide as fire erupted from his palm.
That couldn't be good.
He bolted, and of course had a second to run through the garden that the sorcerer wouldn't dare fling fire into, which was of course a godsend for him. No sooner than he had breached the bush-line did a massive pyre of flames erupt behind him, showering sparks at his feet and catching fire to the shrubbery. He looked back, and watched as the flames were extinguished by a sudden and massive gust of wind, which slammed into him and picked him up off his feet, flinging him forward a couple of yards and he landed with an 'oof' on his side. Scrambling to his feet, he kept going.
Ultimately, since the sorcerer was trying to cast things at him, rather than chase him, he was able to escape by jumping over the side of a short drop down to a riverbank, and though his clothes were muddy, he ran along that to escape. It took him a good fifteen minutes to reorient himself so that he could get back to town to the bus stop. By now he was running late, and he knew it, but he also knew to trust Lucy when she said something was of grave importance. He felt bad, but he'd have to show up late to Lynn's fight.
Back at home, Lynn was ushered into the car by her parents, they didn't want to miss her big fight, nor did she want to be late, they'd said. But really, she did want to be late, she wanted her brother, and she wanted his comfort. She was nervous. Even though this was the lightweights, she knew her opponent was bigger, and probably stronger, than even she was. After all, Lynn was up against the undefeated Lightweight Champion of three years running.
Lucy was watching them from the porch as they pulled away, and Lynn's eyes gave a somber look to her roommate as they left, watching her. She sighed, and blinked at her watering eyes, but when they opened, even so quickly, Lucy was gone. All well, she guessed, considering the gloomy girl typically enjoyed watching the agony of the heart, but only so long before it would hurt her, too. That was a truth she'd known from sharing her living space for so long. Lucy was not impervious to emotion.
When they arrived at the fight, since Lincoln hadn't been driven in the car with them, she was as dejected as could be. He'd missed it. She had to do it alone, nobody to coach her from the corner, nobody to cheer her on, nobody to be there for her if she lost. The emotional impact took it's toll, and she found herself completely unwilling to enter the ring as she slipped on her gloves.
Lincoln arrived at the house some twenty minutes after Lynn had already left, and found it mostly quiet. Luna was off partying with her friends, Luan locked up in her room, Lucy was... Well, Lucy, and Lily was sleeping. Lisa, he figured was probably writing prolonged formula on her chalkboard, which could sometimes take all day considering adjustments, and was a generally silent task. The twins were the only ones he could hear, and they seemed to be getting along, just leaving each other alone to their respective enjoyments in their room.
He brought the items he'd so carefully selected to Lucy, whom looked through the small pouch she'd handed her, and without much of a change in expression, looked back to him. He waited for her approval with baited breath.
She sat there, staring at him through her hanging bangs, and he bit his lip. He'd almost been torched trying to acquire these.
"It will do, I suppose," she finally mumbled, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was to ruin some spell she was casting and cause their whole family to be butchered alive by an unseen force... That's how it worked, right? Either way, if it was important, it was important.
"Did Lynn leave already?" he asked, and she nodded. His heart sunk. He knew how much she depended on him in her fights, and this was the Big Day.
"But don't worry about that. I've of course foreseen your success in one critical area."
She produced the Yarrow flower and leaf, and gave him a little bent smile. He rose his eyebrow.
"This is why I asked for these specifically," she mentioned, and went to her dresser, rifling through it to pull out a mortar and pestle, grinding the flower and leaf into a fine paste. She took the paste, and with three fingers, smeared it on the back of his neck, fingers pushing against the base of his scalp as she ran them up his head, dipping her digits into the paste a few times to do so.
"It's so you don't miss Lynn's fight," she mentioned, and then handed him a piece of paper that normally would've held a poem. Instead, the parchment held a series of circles and symbols. One of which he recognized as a hieroglyph for the sound 'gm', the only reason he knew it is because it was in the shape of an ibis, and related to Thoth. From what he knew, it was the symbol for 'to find' or 'to discover.' He wondered what she was up to.
Her energies surged, and before he could look up as he felt that familiar tingle of her power rising, he felt a sickening lurch, and the world around him warped, twisted by different colors and shapes than the room he'd stood in held before. He felt like he was being yanked, in various directions, his body bending with the forces of being pulled to and fro, and then suddenly, he was on his knees, on asphalt, his hands as he picked them from the ground speckled by pebbles and black dust. He wiped them on his trousers as he stood up.
The banner over the entrance to the building read "Lightweight Championships Tonight", and he slowly smiled, even if his stomach did feel like relieving itself of excess weight. Lucy had somehow got him here... He hoped he wasn't too late.
Inside the arena, Lynn's fight had already began. The girl across from here must've been a couple years older, she was tall, thin, and well-muscled. How she still fit into the lightweight bracket, she had no idea, but Lynn was intimidated. Her parents urged her on, but without Lincoln's love, she wasn't sure if it meant much. She stood from her corner, and walked to the center of the ring on the referee's sign, standing just feet away from her opponent, who was grinning evilly at her. Her own face wore an unsure expression.
The ref had them shake gloves, and she could feel the strength of that arm as she did so, forced to yank her hand slightly away when the other girl gripped it too long. It was unnerving, her confidence, and Lynn knew this wasn't going to be easy. But she tried to stick to her training, her experience, and she'd kept her stomach empty, her head clear, and she held her chin up as she took her side. Her gloves came up defensively, and the bell chimed.
Her first idea as her footwork started was to test the opponent's defense, and she ducked in like she were moving closer, the reactionary shift and blocking let her take note as she tested the enemy's mettle. The taller girl had reach over her, so it was important to see how close she could get. Turns out, getting close would be difficult. Go figure.
Stotka, that was her last name, made the first move. She came in with a jab, Lynn deflected, and the unseen feint landed a right cross straight to her jaw. She stumbled back a step, and her opponent took advantage, moving in, forcing Lynn to throw her weight forward into a clinch. They locked arms, and Lynn let her smaller size play to her advantage, noting the strength at which the opponent was pressing against her. She was using a lot of energy. Lynn slipped one arm free suddenly, and gave her a quick uppercut to the ribs, which broke the clench, and freed her to step back. She bobbed on her tiptoes, shifting her stance from left to right foot.
"That all you got?" she challenged, frustrated with the turn of events enough to rile up her emotions. Stotka glowered at her and growled, and then attacked.
The first blow was a feint, as she'd told the tale before, and Lynn dodged the first jab, deflecting the right cross she'd tried to use before. There was one key factor here she hadn't foreseen, however, and that jab came straight back at her, popping her square in the nose, the speed at which the reigning champion could repeat her blows astonished her briefly.
The opening caused another hit, far more powerful, to impact her shoulder, and she wheezed with the force, it threw her body off balance and forced her briefly against the ropes as she sought to distance herself. She circled, and Stotka advanced.
Lynn's head wasn't in the fight. She just kept wishing her brother were at her side, she heard her parents cheer her on, the distinct lack of a youthful, male voice that was normally present distracted her. She chanced a glance to the corner, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she'd see his smiling face, silent, watching her. Bad move.
The punch that knocked her in the temple was the same one that floored her instantly, her world going dark. When she came to, it was only a few seconds later, and the ref was standing over her, counting. As she blinked back to existence, her eyes to the side of the ring, she saw the doors open, and Lincoln stepped inside, his noticeably white hair unmistakable against the people nearby him. She had to win, now. She had to. How he'd made it here, she had no idea, but she had to win, for him.
She gritted her teeth, and pressed her gloves to the ring, pushing herself back onto her knees. The ref stopped counting, and the bell sounded as she dragged herself up. She appreciated the small things, especially the respite she got from the fight of her life. She slumped back into her stool.
Lincoln rushed to her side.
"Lynn! Sorry I'm late," he panted, and she matched his breath in lack thereof, glancing over her shoulder.
"She's fast... And big. Hits like a truck," Lynn said, rubbing her jaw. Her mind was somehow solely focused on the fight now, especially now that he was here.
He glanced to her opponent. Miss Stotka was panting a little harder than Lynn was, her sweat evident. He grinned.
"Wear her down," he suggested, and moved up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. The coolness of his flesh soothed her, and she gave a soft sigh, and a light, but hidden blush, flushed as she was by her exertion. She'd needed this. He rubbed at her shoulders, loosening her body, and her eyes opened again to gaze at her enemy. She was glaring across the court at Lynn, who smirked and then glared back. Time to show her who was boss.
Lincoln knew Lynn's secret weapon; once, when he'd angered her, she'd hit him with it, a massive uppercut to the lower jaw. He was only seven, it had dislodged one of his baby teeth and he'd cried non-stop for a half hour. The only other way she'd win, is if she used her eight-hit combo she'd been practicing, and delivered it right to the stomach, forcing her opponent to throw in the towel... But at least she had options.
"Watch her guard, get through it," he said, time was running short, "make her move, make her dodge, and you'll get her down. She'll take on water." His advice rang true, and she nodded and stood as the ref instructed, pacing to the center of the ring again, and holding up her gloves. She prepared for the change in the enemy's strategy going into the second round, she knew she couldn't take another hit to the head like that. If she was knocked out again, it would be for good this time. She guarded her chin with her fists.
As the second bell chimed, immediately a massive, wind-up punch came soaring right at her. It was so fast, she'd hardly had time to react, and if it weren't for her instincts and prowess, she probably wouldn't have. The only thing she could think to do was twirl, and she did, and Lincoln's eyes went wide with the grace his sister held. She spun, almost like a dancer, her foot sliding as she stopped herself on her opponent's side.
The resulting punch got her right under the ribs.
Shocked, Stotka reeled back and shifted to counter, throwing a left hook then a straight, followed by a second left hook, and wheeled off to Lynn's left. She hadn't expected the footwork of those long legs, and she ducked a couple of the punches, pushing the last one off, but two more came her way, and she put her palms forward, deflecting one and taking the other in the elbow. It throbbed with pain as she pulled away, but her opponent was relentless. She had to force her attack off, or she'd take one again.
Chancing a bold move, Lynn dove into the assault, slipping passed a punch. She cocked her fist back, and it exploded at the Champ's ribs, another solid uppercut. Yet, Stotka's other arm impacted her cheek, and she slumped over as the other girl stumbled back, completely winded from the blow. Lynn's head spun as she pulled herself up from her knees. She was wobbly on her feet, Lincoln noticed, and he frowned.
Her opponent was trying to catch her breath, and for a moment there was a lull in the fighting as they both struggled with their individual issues, almost as if there was a truce between them. This paused caused the second bell to chime.
When they retreated to their corners, Lincoln noticed the cut on Lynn's cheek, the bruise swelling, her eye impaired. He reached for the metal plate to cool it off, to reduce the swelling, and with a gentle hand to her forehead, he pulled her head back, and pressed the icy metal to her wound.
He looked across the battlefield. The enemy was panting, out of breath, sweating, exhausted. She sprayed a bottle of water into her mouth. Perfect, he thought, grinning with mischief as his plan had worked.
"She's taking water," he mentioned, and Lynn laughed through her unsteady breaths, her eyes closed, just enjoying his loving care as he tended to her bruises. He put a small piece of medical tape over her cut, helping it to stop bleeding for the time being. He pulled her pony tail tighter on her head, her hair had started to come loose.
"I'm so glad you're here," she breathed, and he smiled down at her from where she leaned back, looking up.
"Me too," he returned, and he gave her shoulders another quick rub before pushing her back to her feet.
"Go win this thing."
With her confidence boosted, and her eye seen to, Lynn stepped up to the plate again, her opponent's breath still a bit rapid by the time they got back to it.
"That's it, you're going down," Stotka growled at her, and the ref silenced her with a hand as Lynn gritted her teeth. Fair fight and all, but the taunt still made it's mark. She would down this tyrant.
'DING!' rang the bell, and it was time to use her true skill. Lynn, having saved much of her energy, taking hits to do so, knew where her opponent's weakness was. She'd completely avoided going for the face, or the head, she'd been working the girl's core, and it showed. While her own balance was faltering from the sustained punches shaking her ears, the enemy's movement was impaired by her straining abdomen, her muscles pulled and bruised and her organs sickened by the force of that strong uppercut. All Lynn needed was one chance.
The enemy's aggression was evident again, she opened up with a flurry, impacting her gloves over and over, sneaking in a nice hit to her hip, causing Lynn to rock sideways and yelp slightly in pain. But she kept defending, and snaked out under an arm finally, socking the Champ once more in the side, hopefully having an impact on a kidney.
She turned, but her tired body was evident as she threw the next punch, her movements slowed. Lynn hit her in the chest, more to push her than anything, the blow not doing much damage but forcing her to stumble. Now she had her right where she wanted her.
Weaving left to right, Lynn came at her with all the force of a great typhoon, the enemy's defense powerless against her onslaught. She jabbed, three times quickly, forcing those gloves up in defense as she pushed her opponent back. She got a hook around the gloves right then, catching a shoulder, before her jabs came once more. Twice, she knocked those gloves, and when she saw a foot retreat behind the other girl, she let up.
Thinking her advantage was over, Stotka opened her gloves, and from between them came both of Lynn's hands, her arms crossing over one another to maintain legal rules so she could throw punches at the insides of either glove. She knocked them aside, cocked back, and, summoning every bit of strength she had, delivered an eightfold, solid combo in amazingly rapid succession square to the woman's gut. Water leaked from her mouth as Lynn forced it up from her stomach, two of the hits were aimed to her solar plexus, depriving her of oxygen, the last one landing square in the solid cartilage of the middle of her rib cage, and she slumped back against the ropes.
The final, ninth blow, went square upward into the Champ's jaw, and she fell to the floor with a loud thump. Lynn stood over her, panting, as the ref began to count. She was down for the count, literally, and as her fist was raised in victory, Lincoln cheered loudly for her, even as the former Champion came to, being slowly dragged away by her caretakers. Lynn was beaming wildly, Lincoln's heart surged with how proud he felt. She admitted to him later that she couldn't have done it without him, it was he who had coached her, took care of her, got her through that fight.
"We did it together," he remembered telling her, "and we always will."
Lincoln sighed as he started his car. It was time to go see Lynn.
[AN: Okay, that was by far one of my favorite chapters. The only one I liked better was probably Lucy's visit with Thoth. Like I mentioned somewhere before, Lynn's a total bad ass, so I hope this proves it. Also, I wanted more domestic violence and although it was short, HAHA LUAN GET SOME!
Also, in case you didn't get the jcm-2 reference, you should google jcm-2. Not only fantastic artist, but also just as concerned with both Loud House and Band of Brothers and Vietnam and stuff as I am, so I thought a little homage was in order. Probably my favorite Loud House fan artist, especially the naughty stuff. x3]