Camilla Ramirez's Recruitment
Things got weird at Lyra's house that day.
Things started off easy enough. The trio got off at the bus stop, then walked to Lyra's house. Things seemed normal at first;
The house was still the weirdest warzone Camilla had ever seen, Joan was chewing on the inside of her cheek to bold in her words and Lyra seemed to be oddly serene- like the whole madhouse in the middle of the neighbourhood was just part of everyday life for her.
Well duh; that's 'cause it is dum-dum! Camilla admonished herself.
Even when they got up, and Lyra yelped back as her own lock shocked her didn't really phase either Joan or Camilla that much after the other times they'd come over.
What was odd, was the silence.
It was uncanny to see the house still and empty as they entered, and Camilla felt a crawl up her back- not literally something, but like an instinct warning her that she'd entered a bear's cave.
"Lyra?" Joan's lips were pale, evidently her instincts were alert as well. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there usually more… 'energy' to your home?"
Lyra was still behind them, looking away towards the front door.
"Yes."
She raised her hand, and pressed her finger into the isometric pad next to the door.
Thunk
The window of the front door went dark as a rolling metal panel suddenly slammed closed over the outside.
Thunk
Thunk
Thunk
Thunk
The rest of the opening the girls could see rapidly followed.
"Uh, Lyra?" Camilla hesitantly called out, blinking as the dark set in. "What's going on?"
The indoor lights flickered on, and Lyra was suddenly behind them…
And wearing an army helmet and fatigues.
"What- how?" Joan stepped back in shock. "What's going on!?"
"I'm sorry." Lyra's face was a stern grimace, made all the worse for the grease paint lines on her checks. "But come with me if you want to live."
…
"Uh, how about you just tell us what's going on?" Camilla looked around the house, now noting that the various toys, furniture and general clutter that was strewn about the house looked decidedly more… deliberate than usual. Like they were set up to trip feet, and make chokepoints.
"Everything will be explained in the kitchen." Lyra stepped back, and pointedly started walking towards the living room. She paused and looked back, "walk where I walk."
It was more than a little off, but seeing no real choice Camilla looked to Joan and shrugged before following Lyra careful steps through the scattered detritus of the house. The musician's gait was odd, stopping and halting in places, before hopping over on one foot for a few others only to suddenly duck and crawl under the dining room table instead of taking the very obvious clear path to the kitchen-
Whose clear space was laced with translucent tripwires that Camilla could only just make out as she crawled closer.
Finally, though, they arrived in the kitchen, dustier and considerably more befuddled than they'd begun. Fortunately, they weren't the only ones in such a state.
There, gathered in the cleared kitchen were an assortment of Louds in fatigues, all marching about in uncharacteristic, grim conformity. Even Mr Loud was there, wearing some kind of ancient army jacket over his usual clothes that (to her biased eyes) worked far better than it should have.
Camilla appreciated this.
But while she would have gladly taken in the image, she was distracted by the huddle of grubby and dusty non-Louds in the middle of the kitchen. The group had a dozen or so people, with most of them being kids Camilla could vaguely remember hanging around the other Louds, like the girl scouts that Leia was a part of- but others seemed close to adult age and stared at her with empty eyes. Some whispered among themselves, and watched the patrolling Louds with a mix of trepidation and curiosity, but none tried to leave despite most of them clearly not wanting to be there.
It probably helped that that garden door had another layer of steel covering it.
"Lyr- Sergeant!" Leia was in the same uniform as the other Louds, save for a star on her epaulets and bore a little clipboard in her hands. "Two more conscripts for the Fodder Patrol Sergeant Loud?"
"Yes Ma'm!" Lyra snapped to attention, raising her hand to salute.
"Conscripts- Fodder Patrol!?" Joan looked like she was trying to decide whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity around her. "What the hell is goin-"
Leia Loud's face twisted into a scowl and she whipped to face Joan with blazing blue eyes while snapping her free hand to point to the group of non-Louds; "GET IN LINE PRIVATE DELACROIX!" Her lungs bellowed out with more force than a power-tripping gym teacher and on some primal frequency that shrivelled up any sense of defiance.
Joan squeaked and rushed into the group. Camilla swallowed as the girl's eyes turned to her and awkwardly followed before the 'General' decided to make an example out of her.
She felt Leia's watchful gaze on her as she trundled over anyway, and tried not to meet her eyes as she turned to face forwards, the pale faced Joan beside her.
General Leia looked upon her troops with measured disdain and looked to Sergeant Lyra with disappointment. "Is this it?"
"The best we could do Ma'm."
"A pity," Leia shook her head. "They won't last an hour."
A hand went up in the crowd, "uh… who won't last an hou-"
"YOU WON'T LAST A MINUTE IF YOU OPEN YOUR PIEHOLE AGAIN JANE!"
The hand went down.
Leia drew in a breath, and calmed herself as she checked her watch. "Well… it seems we'll have to make do." She looked up again and drew in a deep breath;
"Look alive MAGGOTS!"
That same tone demanded obedience, and Camilla found herself snapping to attention with the rest of the group before her brain had time to register that she was again, apparently obeying the orders of a girl in cosplay.
"I'm sure many of you are wondering why you have been brought to this fine abode of this particular day of the year." Leia growled out the last words. "If it's any consolation about the following; try to remember your recruitment was a last resort for all involved."
She snapped her fingers, and Mr Loud reached up with a feather duster, and flipped it around so he could use the little hook on the end to pull down an ancient, patch worked projector screen. Instantly the room's lights dimmed, and a new light shot out to illuminate the screen with an image of one Luan Loud.
A very specific image.
"Oh God…" a voice moaned in the back.
"Pray all you want Private," Leia grimly groused. "But you can bet your kidneys there'll be no salvation today."
Upon the screen as the psychotic, maliciously grinning form of Luan Loud. Her hair draped down in loose locks and her clothes were stained with rhubarb, custard and possibly brain fluid.
All the town knew it from the news broadcast last year one this exact date- that day The Monster of Michigan pranked The Pentagon.
Now better known as The Square.
"B-But she's in jail- forever!" A weak and wavering voice insisted.
"Heh," Leia shook her head with a bitter laugh and pulled out a fake cigar to chomp on. "There is no force on this earth or beyond it that can hold The April Fool on this day.
You schmucks though?
You thought otherwise, didn't you?"
The General began pacing in front of the screen. "Each of you were lured here by assorted means. Bribes, deception, the possible satisfaction of a Daddy Complex and just not mentioning anything out of the ordinary and hoping you were dumb enough to forget what day it was.
But let's be honest, none of that would've worked if you'd been properly vigilant against being anywhere near wherever Luan Loud might strike. So now you're here, and that means you have a choice."
There was an ominous giggling that echoed through the vents, and the pungent scent of a stink bomb began wafting through.
"Oh, sweet Jimmy Carter, she's here." One of the girls in the crowd whimpered.
"Yes, yes she is." Leia's mouth firmed up into a grimace, and she nodded to Londey and Lupa, who dragged a large box over between Leia and The Fodder Patrol. They pulled off the transparent lid to reveal numerous of slings and transparent orbs with strange fluid within to serve as ammunition, plastic-like guns that were probably far more dangerous than anyone would've expected if they weren't in The Loud House and all manner of other weapons that rode the boundary of toy and requiring registered ownership.
Leia stepped forwards, and picked up a heavy Supersoaker that was around half her total size. "You can't leave, so your only option is to decide if you're a combatant- or a victim."
That ominous laughter echoed again, this time with a mocking edge.
The General pumped her Supersoaker's shotgun-like forearm, and the thing whirred to life with a radioactive glow;
"I suggest you choose quickly."
