(The Loud House and/or other related titles are rightfully owned by Viacom and Nickelodeon)

(The following is a work of fanfiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any kind contained herein are for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.)


- CHAPTER TWO -

THE HUNTER VS. THE HUNTED

Clyde McBride was a young man who was dressed in a velvety red knee-length pea coat that had mild golden trimming around the hems of the lapels, and the bottom hems of the coat's two tails were scalloped, their appearance strongly resembling a pair of bat wings. He wore a pair of black fingerless gloves, along with a pair of black loafer shoes, a black button-up waistcoat, and a red undershirt that was unbuttoned passed the upper chest.

In his left hand was a glass chalice filled with a very suspiciously dark, red-colored liquid inside.

The color of Clyde's skin - despite the fact that he was African-American - was very sallow-colored allover. A very unnatural discoloration. His eyes, which were once innocent and pure, now glowed a dull hellish red, the eyes of a demon. Lincoln's arms and legs began to grow very weak, the custom Old Army Ruger revolver in his hand becoming almost more than several pounds heavier, and an awful feeling ran through his stomach, a feeling that almost made him want to wretch up all of the bile that was beginning to build up in his system.

Clyde looked at him with those demonically glowing red eyes, examining every detail of his appearance and he let out a small chuckle.

"I gotta say, you've grown quite a bit, Lincoln," the vampire commented. "How long has it been? Four? Five years by now?"

"I can't believe this," Lincoln muttered, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Clyde...? You're... alive? But how? How are you actually here?"

"You're the monster slayer, Lincoln," Clyde taunted, after a letting out a low and ominous chuckle that seemed to resound across the room. "Why don't you try and figure it out yourself?"

"But... Griselda," the monster hunter muttered. "She... She killed you. I saw her do it, with my own two eyes." Clyde glowered lightly, the wicked smile on his ghostly pale face never changing.

"Guess again, fool," the vampire said. "You saw what my beloved Mistress wanted you to see."

Clyde rose his chalice up to his lips and he delicately gulped down the rest of the blood until the glass was now empty. He then let out a small, pleasured moan as the exquisite and euphoric taste of the blood assaulted the inside of his mouth. Once after that was done, he tossed the glass cup to the side until it had shattered into tiny sharp pieces against the stone wall.

"She wanted you to believe that I was killed by her hands, so that she could take me in as one of her own. Recruit me into her little circle of friends and show me her unique viewpoint of life."

"And let me tell you something, Lincoln," Clyde continued, his voice suddenly shifting into a sultry tone, his rugged body almost squirming with aroused ecstasy. "She has shown me many things. Many wonderful and beautiful things that which your own feeble and ignorant human brain could not comprehend; oh, the pleasures of immortality, the sweet and sumptuous taste of life and all that comes with it, the power and ability to bend the very will of others to my every beck and call."

"No, Clyde!" Lincoln retorted, finding the strength inside himself again. "What you have become is a monster just like her, and all of the rest of her undead mooks! You have been corrupted by the very evil you faithfully dedicated your life to destroy!"

"Evil?!" Clyde growled offendedly, his voice deepening and seeming to reverberate across the room. "How can you even say such an offensive thing, man?! Can't you see that my eyes have never been more open as they are now? I can see everything more clearly, for Lady Griselda has also shown me the truth! The truth that the Holy Order of the Cross are a bunch of single-minded fools, trying to suppress us from reaching our true potential, from what we could achieve! A menagerie of pious clowns who are so afraid and hateful of anything that are different from them!"

All Lincoln could do at that moment was slowly shake his head while staring at his very own childhood friend with shock and utter disbelief that was plainly and obviously written on his face. In all his years as a monster slayer, of hunting down and eliminating the evil and the unholy across this world, this was most certainly something that which he was not quite prepared for.

"Come on, Lincoln," Clyde lightly beckoned, his discolored-faced, red-eyed expression softening. "Just let me show you what it is like, to have such an incredible power. To hold all of the elements of this world at the palms of your hands." The second Clyde lifted his right foot forward, Lincoln swiftly drew his custom revolver, once again pointing the modified shooting iron directly at the vampire.

"Don't you dare come near me!" the monster hunter threatened. Clyde gave a fake surprised look and then scoffed.

"Why, Lincoln," he said, "I am quite surprised at you. You break my undead heart. Is that any way to treat your most beloved childhood friend, after five long years of not seeing each other?" Lincoln's brows furrowed, his hand squeezing tightly around the grip of his custom Old Army Ruger.

"You shut your disgusting mouth up, demon," Lincoln grunted. "The Clyde McBride I knew would never succumb to such an evil. He would soon rather choose death and be in God's hands than become an unholy beast like you. You are nothing but a soulless shell of an imitation. A monster who wears the face of an innocent man who was once my best friend." The vampire sneered at the hunter and rested his hands across his chest.

"Oh, and what exactly would he do then?"

Lincoln's eyes narrowed even further, the fingers of both his hands coiling around the polished wooden-gripped handle of his customized revolver. His breathing evened out, and his demeanor strengthened. This was it. The test of true faith and commitment. The test of everything that Lincoln Loud believed in that was hammered into his brain by the Holy Order of the Cross. His arm became steady as did also his breathing.

It was finally time to put all his years' worth of brutal training and disciplined faith to the definitive challenge. There was no turning back now...

"He would do something a lot like this!"

With blinding speed, the young monster hunter swiftly drew out his second custom revolver and then let out a barraging wave of blessed .45 caliber bullets from both pistols towards the vampire's way without even having to pull back the hammers. In an act of swift thinking, Clyde's body fragmented into a thick cloud of mist in less than a split second, the bullets zooming clear passed him and shattering through the glass of the already broken windowpanes. The cloud of ash white mist swiftly slithered like a serpent down across the wooden floor until it made its quick way passed through the bottom of the door from which Lincoln had entered from.

"Get back here, you coward!" Lincoln shouted, chasing after his quarry.

As he now raced back down the wooden steps, Lincoln went to work with one of his customized Old Army Ruger's, showing off its modifications; he started off by half cocking the hammer and then unlatching the connection from the frame. This allowed Lincoln to flip the barrel forward up, letting the now spent cartridge shells to fly out of the six chambers of the cylinder. He then reached into one of the many poaches of his utility belt and grabbed about a loaded moon clip and then slotted it into the chambers of the cylinder.

He speedily yet calmly pulled the barrel back upwards, and then latched it back into place at the frame, making the firearm whole once again.

After finally reaching the wooden door below and back through the second room and out the second door, Lincoln burst right through it, nearly knocking the withered door off from the long-rusted hinges, and he found himself once more within the chapel of the abbey. His breathing had sped a little, as his sharp eyes trailed and scanned around the surrounding darkness of the chapel. A low menacing chuckle suddenly resonated across the room.

Lincoln's lower jaw became set into a slightly pressurized clench.

"You know, I was originally planning on paying a little visit to the Order," Clyde's disembodied voice commented. "I cannot help but be a tad bit curious at just how much has changed in the last five years since I was gone."

"Not a whole lot, I will tell you that," Lincoln said, as he reloaded his second shooting iron. "But then again, I don't think you'd be able to pull that off, since vampires cannot set foot on holy ground."

"He, he, he, and yet here I am inside a decrepit monastery, roaming freely as a little bird. Seems the good people of this little Bohemian county were not the only ones who abandoned this place," A long pause came until the undead monster finally spoke again from the shadows.

"Hmmm... How very curious," he stated, almost changing the subject. "I can't help but notice something about those guns of yours. You managed to fire them without even having to pull back the hammers. And not to mention, those are Old Army Ruger's; modern percussion revolvers, black powder types, and yet you fired them with 45. Caliber bullets. In all my years of when I was with the Order, I have never seen something like this before."

"Double action triggers," Lincoln stated cautiously. "You'd be very surprised at what the Order's nine hundred years' worth of financial backing can do. After all, they are nothing, if not resourceful. But then again, you have always known that yourself, Clyde."

"Anything else I should be aware of then?" That's right, Lincoln. Keep him talking. Long enough until he exposes himself.

"I also had them revised with top break action frames, for the sake of easy reloading," Lincoln clarified, his attentiveness and hunter's instinct never faltering. "These mods have more than once saved my bacon in the passed few years! You can thank Lisa for being able to pull this work of genius off." A noise, which the monster hunter perceived to be sudden movement, was heard from one corner of the chapel. Lincoln instinctively directed his revolvers at the location.

"He, he, he," came a resonated laugh. "Oh yes, good ole' Lisa Loud. Ever the impeccable fourteen-year-old inventor, like always. Perhaps, when our little fight has reached its end, I shall go and pay her a little visit. And maybe, Lori would like to see me too, don't you think?" Lincoln's teeth clenched in anger, and his fingered coiled tightly around his Old Army Ruger's.

"You can try it!" he snarled. "And I guarantee, you will fail!" A taunting laugh reverberated throughout the chapel of the abbey.

"Oh, touched a nerve, have I?" the vampire's seductive voice said. A low snarl escaped from Lincoln's throat. He then mentally told himself to relax, to not allow himself to give in. That was what this unholy creature wanted; to get into his mind and play on his fears. Time to try and even the odds. "You leave my sisters out of this! This is between you and me! Now, quit messing around and face me like a real man, Clyde! That is if you're even a man at all to actually stand up to me!"

"Oh, you want me to fight so badly? Fine!" the vampire returned with an irritated snarl, stepping forth from the shadows and into the light, revealing himself once again before the monster slayer. Lincoln slowly but surely pointed his twin custom revolvers at the fanged monster's direction, his fingers coiling tightly around the handles once more. Preparing himself for what could possibly be the coming worst.

"Come on, Clyde!" Lincoln challenged. "Let's both finish this! Once and for all!" Clyde McBride glared, his red eyes glowing with fury, and he flashed the monster slayer a fanged grin. He then squatted into what appeared to be a predatory stance.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he growled.

And just like that, Clyde darted forward with lightning speed. Lincoln quickly pulled the triggers of his Old Army Rugers, one shot after another just barely hitting the vampire that charged at him. Once he was close enough, Clyde swung his sharpened claws out at the hunter, but Lincoln was fast and avoided every slashing attack that came next after the other. Clyde made one last slash towards Lincoln's white-haired head, but the hunter speedily ducked and he punched the vampire square in the chest.

The impact knocked the unholy beast back across the room, the soles of his shoes skidding against the stone pavement. The vampire growled hatefully. Lincoln dramatically twirled his custom revolvers in his hands, and he placed them back into their respective holsters. From underneath his black long coat, he pulled out a single large pellet and held it in his left hand.

"Care to try that again?" Lincoln challenged. Vampire-Clyde's anger boiled up; his nostrils flared, and his discolored face scrunched up into a rage-induced sneer. He bared his needle-sharp fangs. And then a deep inhuman roar escaped from his throat.

"I'm gonna paint the walls red with your blood, Lincoln Loud!" he cried as he leaped into the air towards the monster hunter.

In a flash, Lincoln quickly threw the pellet down on the floor, and then jumped out of the way. A large cloud of smoke erupted from the spot. Clyde flew passed the smoke and after that, he fell to the stone floor and rolled up to the foot of the alter. The vampire coughed almost violently and clutched his throat, his fiery red eyes bulged, and tears of blood ran down his face, which suddenly began to grow almost veiny.

"Garlic!" the vampire choked out with a hiss. As he laid hidden beneath the wooden pews, Lincoln reloaded his Old Army Rugers, then carefully emerged from the side, slowly walking over to the struggling vampire while keeping the barrels of his custom revolvers pointed down at the unholy monster.

"Clyde McBride!" Lincoln proclaimed. "You have committed terrible crimes against humankind, murdering countless innocent men, women, and children in the last five years! And not only that, but by choosing to align yourself with the evils of the supernatural, you have forsaken your humanity, as well as the path of the hunter. As a member of the Holy Order of the Cross, it is my right - no, my sworn duty - as a monster slayer to destroy you and all who walk the unholy path of the Devil!"

Vampire-Clyde glared hatefully at his former best friend. He then looked down at the long withered purple carpet that the monster hunter was standing on. And the palm of the vampire's own left free hand laid flat on the edge of the carpet. A devious smile grew across his rounded face.

"You have anything to say before I lay your sorry undead butt to rest?" Lincoln grunted. A low chuckle escaped from the vampire's throat.

"Why yes, I believe I do," he muttered, as he grabbed the hem of the carpet. "Mind your step!"

In that instant, Clyde pulled hard on the carpet toward himself, the speed of it causing Lincoln – who quickly fired his revolver, the bullet whizzing passed the vampire, missing him by a close inch – to slip and fall on his back. Lincoln groaned from the pain of the sudden impact. He then suddenly felt a great force pin itself on top of him. He gazed up and saw the grinning, red-eyed face of the vampire, growling and salivating with hunger. Clyde quickly swatted the revolvers out of the monster hunter's hands.

He then seized Lincoln by the throat and held him up in the air. Lincoln choked from the tenacious grip. An evil laugh escaped from the vampire's throat and then he said, "How does it feel knowing that you are about to die by your old friend's hands?!" He then threw the monster hunter to the side, hitting against the stone wall, knocking the wind right out of him, his hat flying off from his head. Clyde approached Lincoln, now crouching down over the monster slayer, and pinned him firmly against the wall.

"Now, do you have anything to say before I rip your throat out?" Vampire-Clyde muttered, baring his fangs. Lincoln glared up at him, a line of blood oozing from the right-side corner of his lips.

"Yeah," he groaned. "Just two;" Clyde frowned and raised one eyebrow in confusion. In that moment, Clyde's eyes suddenly widened, and his triumphant demeanor completely vanished as he felt an abrupt and very sharp surge of pain puncture deep into his chest. His red glowing eyes looked down and saw, in Lincoln's free hand, a long and vicious wooden stake that had not been there earlier. A stake that had gone near all the way through Clyde's chest, piercing him square in the heart and out through his back. Clyde looked up at Lincoln, only to see the monster hunter smiling at him.

"... Happy Halloween," the hunter muttered.

The vampire couldn't say anything as he began to choke, and blood oozed from his mouth and his nose. With a swift kick from his left leg, Lincoln knocked the vampire off, and the vampire fell on his back to the floor, choking and convulsing. Lincoln groaned as he struggled to stand up. After retrieving his hat and placing it back onto his head, Lincoln slightly limped over to Clyde and he carefully knelt to the dying vampire's side. To Lincoln's surprise, he saw that the vampire before him had drastically changed. Clyde's skin tone was now normal, filled with color, his eyes no longer glowed a terrible red, and his fangs were gone.

All physical traces of the vampire were no longer visible, and only Clyde McBride himself laid down on the floor on his back, blood oozing from his mouth, nose and eyes. Clyde turned over to face Lincoln and looked up at him with the most heartbroken expression.

"I-I-Is it over?" he choked. Lincoln felt his bottom lip tremble as a surge of emotion swept over him. He gently lifted Clyde's head up. Lincoln nodded his head.

"Yes, Clyde," he muttered, his voice quivering. "The nightmare is over." Clyde couldn't help but smile up at his former friend, a smile that Lincoln knew meant that this indeed was the real Clyde McBride he truly knew.

"I-I couldn't help it, Lincoln," Clyde groaned, swallowing a hard lump stuck in his throat. "I c-couldn't help it,"

"It's alright, Clyde," Lincoln said. "It will be over soon." In that moment, Clyde lifted his hand up and out at Lincoln who grabbed it held it tightly. Clyde, with his other free hand, grabbed the lapel of Lincoln's black long coat and gently pulled him in closer.

"Do what you g-gotta do, brother," he whispered. "Please, set my soul free," Lincoln slowly nodded. With his own free hand, Lincoln drew from his black long coat a whole garlic and he looked back at Clyde with a hesitant expression.

"K-Kill her, Lincoln," he struggled to say. "Kill G-Griselda. Do it... for me."

With that, Clyde slowly opened his mouth as wide as he could, and Lincoln easily placed the garlic bulb inside. Clyde's bloody nose curled, and his eyes shut tightly, the garlic burning terribly in his mouth like blazing hot coals. After that, Lincoln reached further into his long coat and pulled out a long fifteen-inch hunting knife, the blessed silver blade glistening in the piercing rays of the full moon that shined through the broken glass window. Cole then grabbed a handful of Clyde's thick hair, holding his head firmly in his grasp.

The hunter's breathing became fast and his emotions began to well up. And so, Clyde lifted his head up to reveal the entirety of his neck and then he closed his eyes tightly. He was ready. Lincoln rose the blade up and with one swift motion, swiped the sharp blade clean through Clyde's entire neck like butter, easily separating his head from his shoulders. Blood oozed profusely from both the head and the body, and then after that, little bits of flakes of ashes began to fly off from the skin of Clyde's fresh corpse.

In a matter of second's Clyde's decapitated head and corpse dissolved until they became nothing more but a pile of gray ashes. Wind gusted into the chapel, blowing the vampire's remains almost into a cloud until nothing else was left except for Lincoln Loud who remained where he was, kneeling down where his former best friend had just been, hanging his white-haired head low with a crestfallen expression on his face.

After a moment or two of peaceful silence, Lincoln stood back up onto his feet and dusted himself off. He then lifted his right arm up to his face, pulled back the sleeve of his long coat, revealing a watch-like device. Lincoln pushed down on a small button and spoke into the device.

"Hey, Lisa. It's Lincoln," he said. "The vampire's been taken care of." A sigh was heard from the wrist-mounted communicator.

"Well, that's a relief," said Lisa Loud, Lincoln's genius of a fifteen year old sister, through the other side of the communicator. "Did you find its identity?"

"Yeah, but... You're not gonna believe who it was," Lincoln hesitated for a moment and then sighed drearily. "Lisa... It... it was Clyde." Lincoln waited for a response, but nothing came except for sudden silence. He spoke once again.

"Lisa?"

"Ur, sorry, big brother, I think I misheard you," she said. "It sounded like you said that Mr. McBride was our vampire." Lincoln sighed again.

"You heard me right," Lisa gasped from the other side of the communicator.

"Oh, dear God," she muttered. "Clyde...? Was it really...? But how? I thought he was dead. Griselda killed him."

"Apparently not," Lincoln answered. "Turns out, she faked his death so that she could indoctrinate him into one of her little vampire groupies."

"Oh, Clyde," she murmured in a mournful tone. There was a short pause until she spoke again. "Did... Did he suffer?"

"No," Lincoln said, emotional pain twinging in his beating heart. "He didn't feel a thing." A mournful sigh was heard from the other line of the communicator.

"Lincoln... I'm... I'm so sorry. But, at least he's in a better place now," Lisa assured, in the hopes of brightening Lincoln's gloomy mood.

"Yeah," Lincoln responded dryly. "Sure, I guess. Anyway, I'll see you back at the village. Lincoln out."

With that, he turned off his wrist communicator. He gazed down at the pile of ashes before his feet. His knees buckled and then he fell back down onto the floor. The monster slayer wiped the growing tears from his eyes. His hands coiled into tight balls of fists. And his teeth clenched together, as memories of that incident came swirling into his brain, when five years ago he saw Griselda, the Queen of the Vampires herself, holding the seemingly dead body of Clyde McBride in her embrace, her lips stained with his blood, the punctured bite marks on his neck.

Her evil smile flashing at Lincoln, and her sinister giggle echoing in the surrounding darkness... Anger began to boil within Lincoln's trembling body as a new form of resolution became prominent. Griselda... That name tasted like acid in his mouth. The name of his most hated enemy. The monster in human flesh who took away his best friend and robbed Clyde of his humanity. The lion who devoured anything that came its way.

"I will find you, Griselda," he murmured to himself, after retrieving his Old Army Ruger. "I swear it, God as my witness, I will not rest until I find you and drive a stake through your black heart. And I will free all of the innocent souls that you have corrupted."

And so, the feared Lincoln Loud: Monster Slayer, opened the exit doors wide open, the creaks echoing loudly across the chapel, and removed himself from the abbey, with a newfound assurance and promise to Heaven above that Clyde's death will not be in vain.

- The End -


Well, I hope that you all enjoyed this story as much as I did while writing it. Please, let me know what you all think from your reviews and tell me what you all think should be improved or changed. Until then, have a good day, stay safe, and have a Happy Halloween. ;)