Chapter 4: Counting Crows

Many hours later, the lunch bell had rang, and the students were well on their way to the cafeteria. The hallways were abuzz with conversation and excitement; the news of the year-end fair had spread like wildfire, leaving many to speculate the events to come in the next few days. Amidst the excitement, Lincoln and Clyde ran into each other, walking towards the mess hall with a hesitancy in their steps.

"We gotta find Ronnie. She didn't weasel her way into that girl group for nothing!" Lincoln advanced into the open double-doors of the cafeteria, looking around.

"Lincoln, you know that isn't the only thing we need to fix, right? It's our duty as best friends to help her cheer up!"

'Best friends…?' The boy in orange clenched his fist. 'Ronnie's more than my best friend. You think he'd know that by now…' He thought to himself, exhaling and unclenching his fist.

"...yeah. It is." He sighed. "Seeing her so mad just worries me."

"I getcha. Oh–look! There she is!" Clyde pointed to the other side of the cafeteria, where a figure in a purple hoodie walked out of an opened doorway, into the blacktop of the school. The two weaved through a sea of students, occasionally pushing aside their peers to reach their angered friend in time.

"Oops! Sorry! Excuse me!" Lincoln exclaimed as Clyde followed behind him. The two were met with the occasional disdainful glance, however they were moving too quickly to even notice such looks. With each step, they left a trail of angered and somewhat shaken students, making the whole cafeteria slightly tenser than it was previously.

They eventually found their way to the glass door in the rear, and found themselves amongst the lower grade students; the sounds of mumbling and grumbling were replaced with laughter and giggling. Every student from the first to the third grade was frolicking with their friend groups, filled with joy at the announcement of what was essentially a summer festival on school grounds.

Well, almost every student…

"Hi, Lincoln." Lucy appeared next to them, standing in the shade created by the ceiling above their heads.

"Gah!" Clyde and Lincoln jumped back, hitting the glass behind them. "Oh, hey Lucy!" Clyde grinned, rubbing the back of his head as Lincoln let out a sigh of relief. "You never fail to scare me, Luce. You seen Ronnie Anne? We gotta talk to her."

"Oh. She's somewhere over there." She pointed towards the football field. "The Mortician's Club was supposed to meet under the bleachers, since it's dark and cramped. It prepares us for our rituals. But you should probably get her out of there first."

"Good idea." Clyde commented. "By the way, guys…my friends and I are gonna build a haunted house for the fair. So I'll see you there…if you dare…" She gave the two of them an evil grin, descending into the shadows below them.

"Well, I'll be looking forward to it. See you, Luce!" Lincoln patted her head as she sunk into the darkness, and she waved at the two before re-appearing at the foot of a tree on the other side of the outdoor perimeter.

"Right. To Ronnie Anne!" Lincoln pointed to the football field, and stepped forward to lead the way. As he did such a maneuver, as if on cue, a flurry of many types of sports balls flew across the blacktop, causing him to jump back near the door which they came from. "Uh…maybe we should wait until their rounds end!" Clyde trembled, hiding behind Lincoln. "Y-yeah, let's do that." Lincoln wiped the sweat off his eyebrow.

"Oh! I have an idea. Why don't we do some deep breathing? My dads do it when they need to focus on knitting sweaters." Clyde suggested, and Lincoln snapped his fingers. "Good idea! Let's get in focus…"

Meanwhile, at the other end of the outdoor section, the well-populated playground was abuzz with activity. Every slide and post was occupied by the members of the elementary student body, and each kid would have just been lucky to have a try at half of the available facilities without getting scuffed up or pushed aside by one of their peers. Even luckier, were a particular pair of twins whom the denizens of the playground revered, for they were given an ample passage towards the tall metal and plastic sets. If there was a kid about to climb upon a stairwell or a ladder, they would be promptly pushed aside to let these blonde bosses reach their destination without any fuss. Swings would be dismounted, tunnels were evacuated, and lines were dissolved as the two had made their presence felt. An eerie silence overtook the grounds as they approached the entryway to the playground's set.

"Princess Lola! Royal Knight Lana!" A young boy bearing fair skin and an orderly crew cut stood before them, saluting the two in an upright, militaristic stance. In response, Lola grinned at the tiny soldier. "Sir Steve! Fine day for playtime, isn't it?" She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Correct, your highness. Especially with the announcement!" He was met with a glare from Lana. "Oh!-And the way to the top is clear, your highnesses." Steve saluted again, trembling slightly.

"At ease, buddy. C'mon, sis! We got a playground to protect." Lana saluted back to Steve, and stepped to the side to let Lola proceed first. "Right you are, fearsome knight of the playground! Let's go!" The princess grinned, excitedly climbing the hole-punched metal staircase before them, and her twin followed suit.

As the twins ascended the playground's set, the chaos of the playground slowly achieved its frantic pace, and before long, the air of the lunch break was restored. "Y'know, Lola, I can't believe we made it this far." Lana remarked, following in the footsteps of her twin. Lola ascended yet another metal stairwell, and reached the highest point of the tower where all behemoths of slides originated. The pageant-winner turned around with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean…think about it. We're totally in control of the playground! Not even the teachers can do that. It's pretty crazy…"

"I guess…but what's a kingdom without its princess? And what's a playground, but a little kingdom? I mean, this whole thing's like a castle! The slides are the gates, the blacktop's the battlefield, the sandbox is the courtyard–you get the idea."

"Yeah, I get 'cha." Lana smiled. "Hey, y'know, now that summer's coming, I'll really miss this place. Think we can take over the park playground? Black Flag could use a little…exercise." She gave off a mischievous gap-toothed smile, and a geometrical figure in black floated behind her, facing the ground. Vertical and horizontal bars formed an armor of sorts for its humanoid form, which was slightly taller than the twins themselves. Its face was obscured by bent variants of these black bars, forming into something reminiscent of a racing driver's helmet.

"Eh…I'll pass. That place gets way too much foot traffic. It's like the mall on Christmas Eve."

Lana shrugged in reply, de-summoning her Stand. "Aww. Well, you're right." She frowned at the truth, sitting down on the metal panel floor as she sighed. "Now that I think about it…I don't think Dad would like it if we did, anyway. Remember what he said…"

"...yeah, yeah. Use your Stands in self-defense, or something." Lola pouted, sitting next to her twin, facing the larger area of the playground, their 'subjects' in full view of their youthful eyes.

"Hey, remember when Brittany threw some mud on you 'cause it was picture day and she thought you were me?" Lana turned to her sister, giggling. "Oh! That Brittany…why the hell did Mom make us wear the same thing?! That was so corny!" Lola laughed, raising her voice in a mixture of anger and amusement. Lana laughed heartily, nearly falling on her back as she held her belly. "Exactly! And then you used Tragic Kingdom on the girl's bathroom door–WOOSH!"

The twins laughed in unison, tears of joy falling down their cheeks as Lola laid next to her sister. "She was…drenched! Her makeup looked like a squid fell on her face!" Lola sighed, escaping her bout of laughter.

"Ah…good times." She smiled, before she let out a gasp, her expression turning to a worried grimace. "The playground! We better start watchin' it, princess!" Lana sat up, grabbing a pair of binoculars from her overalls. "Right you are, Royal Knight!" Lola followed suit, dusting off her legs before standing above her sister, crossing her arms as she gazed upon the blacktop and everyone within it.

"Hey…isn't that Lincoln and Clyde?" Lana pointed towards the other end of the perimeter, spotting the two best friends near the cafeteria exit. "What?" Lola looked where Lana pointed, and her eyes widened. "What's Linky doing here?" She asked no one in particular, as Lincoln and Clyde performed deep-breathing techniques before fist-bumping.

"Oh my God! Are they gonna pass through no-man's-land?!" Lana gasped, lowering her binoculars to look up at Lola. "They–they are!"

"What are we gonna do?! Even we can't stop ball games…like Lynn said, 'competition is sacred'. I would know, being a pageant-winner." Lola humblebragged, and Lana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and I'm a go-kart racer. Same baloney." She grumbled, looking into her binoculars once more as Lola looked towards the two.

"Alright…nice and easy." Lincoln sighed, before inhaling deeply.

"GOOO!" He sprinted with all his might, and Clyde followed suit, screaming in terror as he advanced alongside his best friend. "AAAAH!"

"They're doing it!" Lana exclaimed, and stood up out of excitement. Lola yanked the binoculars from her hands, and looked into it deeply. "Hey! Remember what we learned about sharing? Hello?" The racer tapped her foot and crossed her arms.

"Ugh. Fiine." Lola sighed, adjusting her grip to only let her left eye look through the right lens. "Thank you, your highness." Lana replied half-sarcastically, looking through the left lens with her right eye.

"Wow…they really are doing it! Go Linky!" Lola cheered. The two bore witness to a display of acrobatics usually seen only in Olympic game broadcasts; Lincoln and Clyde weaved and ducked through the sports-saturated battlefield, dodging the projectiles high and low, contorting their bodies like carnival freaks in the process. As it turned out, crashing through the crowded halls, and dodging his sisters like ping-pong balls for all those years had provided Lincoln with unnaturally excellent agility. As for Clyde, it was a simple matter of good fortune along with adrenaline-fuelled cowardice.

"We're gonna make it!" Clyde exclaimed, as they reached the half-point of the blacktop's surface. He yelped in fear as a volley ball came from the sky, and "Woo-hoo! It's the last stretch! They got this!" Lana shouted, pumping her free hand in the air.

"Yes! I knew–"

THWACK!

A stray soccer ball struck the back of Lincoln's round head, causing him to faceplant onto the blacktop. The twins gasped loudly, and the young boy's best friend let out a cry of worry. "Aah! Man down!" Clyde exclaimed, rushing to Lincoln's side.

Lola put down her sister's binoculars, handing them to her with an aggressive shove, planting it firmly on her overalls. She growled, and her face soured as she gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. "Uh oh." Lana mouthed, stepping back.

"WHO THE HELL HIT MY BIG BROTHER?!" Lola shrieked out. In that moment, every student outdoors stopped whatever they were doing and stood still, looking to the source of the angered cry; the top of the playground's tallest tower. They turned their heads and saw none other than Lola and Lana standing atop the playground's spire, and they gasped as she entered the long tube slide. As they descended the tower, whispers and comments sowed themselves among the children;

"Yikes. I wouldn't wanna be the guy who kicked that ball…"

"Yeah…" A boy gulped, seeing Lola walk out of the slide's exit. Lana followed suit, pocketing her binoculars and adjusting her red baseball cap. As they made their way through the now-frozen group of children, who stepped back to make a path for their advance, they spotted a group of boys older than them. They shakily stood, talking to each other in a circle. "Dude, it was a penalty kick! How did he miss that?! Brad was like, two feet away from him!"

"I–I told you we should have played tag!"

"You told who? Speak up, buster!" Lana raised her voice at the four, and they jumped out of their circle to face the twins. "T–Tim! We told Tim to do the penalty kick!" Brad responded, shielding his face with his large goalie gloves.

"And might I ask, where is this Tim person, huh?" Lola grabbed him by the collar, sticking her finger in his chest.

In response, the four boys pointed to the other side of the playground, where a lad in a red shirt frantically sprinted away from their location. "Lana, go check on Linky. I got a score to settle…" She leaned towards her twin, before removing her gloves and pocketing them. "GET BACK HERE, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A SOCCER PLAYER!" Lola screamed, and a frightened yip came afterwards as the local princess took chase.

"Hey, big bro. You okay?" Lana walked up to Lincoln, who got his face off the ground and sat up, rubbing his head. "Augh…it's fine. Just another ball to the head. Appreciate the backup, though."

"Anytime, dude! Hey, what brings you to our turf, anyway?"

"It's Ronnie Anne! I gotta talk to her and–well, she's been angry about some sleepover and she doesn't even wanna see me!"

"That, and, uh–we got the scoop on some info for a pranking spree. Ronnie Anne's got it, though." Clyde added, and Lana nodded her head. "Hmm…Well, that's a tough one. Get her some choc'lates! Those always cheer me up." She gave off an innocent, gaptoothed smile, and her older brother chuckled. "Yeah. I was thinking of hitting Gus' Games and Grub after school, anyways."

"Ooh, good call. Now, if you'll excuse me–" Lana turned towards her raging, rushing sister. "-YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS, BALL BOY!" She followed Lola's trail, grabbing a trusty pipe wrench from her overalls and shaking it in the air.

"I'm not the ball boy! AAAH!" The boy exclaimed. With the situation seemingly resolving itself, the crowd dispersed and returned to their usual activities, including Lincoln and Clyde, who walked towards the football field with a renewed vigor. "Y'know, I think that ball must've woken me up. Time to help my girlfriend."

"Yeah! Wait, what–" Clyde paused and faced him.

Lincoln flustered, and stopped in his tracks as well. "Yeah! Y–you know, we're kind of in a relationship, if you didn't notice."

"Dude, you and her are like a busted light switch. On and off. I wouldn't really call it a relationship."

"Oh, so now you wanna argue about this?!" He raised his voice, pointing at Clyde with an indignant anger.

Before anything else was said, however, a scream came from the football field. The two dropped their guard and looked towards its source; Ronnie Anne had her Stand summoned before her, deflecting and pushing back a murder of crows which surrounded her, attempting to peck Ronnie Anne with an unusual level of aggressiveness. Bouncing Soul stretched and contorted, surrounding her in red slime which seemed to be the only barrier between her and a death-by-pecking.

"Oh my God! Clyde, stay back. I got this." Lincoln clenched his fists, and as the sun shone down on them, the green phantom emerged from Lincoln's back, its form accentuated by the sunlight which powered it. It bore a blocky humanoid figure, however its hands and torso were separated, kept together by what looked like wisps of radioactive energy. Its face mirrored Lincoln's expression; a furrowed brow and gritted teeth. They carried the same rage in their eyes, walking out of the blacktop and towards the avian assailants; every step forward was a step with conviction, and the hot blacktop could not compare to the fire in Lincoln's heart.

"Let's use some of that stored energy." He muttered as he rushed forward, extending his left arm in a punching motion, causing Radiohead's left hand to speed towards the birds of a feather like a heat-seeking missile.

The phantom's knuckles collided with four enraged crows, and the cracking of hollow bones rung through the air as they were punched aside, their bodies flying to the grassy field below. "Stay the hell away from her!" Lincoln shouted, and Ronnie Anne looked to him. "Linky–I mean, Lincoln!-" She shouted, interrupting herself by driving the crows back with a newfound vigor. Bouncing Soul pushed against the feathered fiends, the viscous sentient slime morphing into a hard candy-like shell.

The birds who remained had their beaks struck by their own force; the hardness of Ronnie's Stand used their power against them. For a moment, they had stumbled, flapping in the air, before they dove back in with their claws and talons. "These birds just won't quit!"

"Neither will we!" Lincoln shouted, raising his left hand and pulling it back, causing Radiohead's rocketing hand to turn around mid-air, flying back the way it came. It was still clasped in a tight fist, and aimed towards the murder which assaulted his dearly beloved. "Ronnie! Turn your Stand into something sticky! Like used-up chewing gum!"

"Gotcha!" She shouted back. Ronnie slowly morphed the translucent slime into a more malleable form, causing the beaks and claws of the crows to sink into the Stand's mass. "They're slowing down!" Ronnie shouted, as Radiohead's free hand returned at the same speed as it left.

Lincoln advanced with gritted teeth, winding up his right arm, clasping his hand into another anger-fuelled fist, sealed by the desire to protect his long-time friend and love interest. As he sprinted forward, the crows looked to him and redirected their attention towards the young man carrying a green phantom behind his shoulders.

"This is what you get, you stupid birds!" He shouted, and threw his right hand forward. Radiohead's right fist detached itself from its radioactive tether, and flew across the air to meet with what remained of the murder. From the other side, the returning fist had reached its destination; the rear of the flock.

"Double Rocket Punch!" Lincoln closed his eyes, and Ronnie Anne looked away, not wanting to see the splatter that would ensue.

However, the two fists had only produced a singular light thud. "What the–"

Lincoln's heart sank as he witnessed what stood before him. He stepped back, as did Ronnie Anne, whose eyes widened at the sight. Out of the immobilized murder of crows, two pale hands emerged, holding back Radiohead's knuckles with considerable force.

"A Stand User!?" The two shouted in unison. As he stepped back, Radiohead retracted its fists, tethering them to its torso once more.

The ebony murder managed to wriggle its way out of Bouncing Soul's slime, making Ronnie step back from both her Stand, and this mysterious figure. Suddenly, a leg emerged from the flock, and the sneaker its foot wore kicked Ronnie's Stand backwards, leaving the figure in the middle of the field with some space. The crows began to fly in a circular pattern, as if they were a tornado of feathers, and a boy began to materialize from within. Stepping out of the flurry of plumage, the young man clad in a black leather jacket, sporting a slicked-back pompadour, looked to Lincoln with a sneer on his bruised face. He spat on the ground below, before speaking up;

"Stupid birds, that's what you called them, right? That's a lot of nerve coming from someone who doesn't know how to hide their Stand…"

Lincoln gulped. "I–that bird was you?! The one that tried to attack me?!"

"Well, yeah. But to make it more accurate, that one's a part of my flock. You know how it is, Lincoln Loud. You've got a huge family."

Ronnie Anne clenched her fists, causing Bouncing Soul to fling itself back to her location, morphing into a serpentine form as it slithered around her feet. "Who are you?! And how the hell do you know that?!"

"I'm Michael Morrison. But you can call me Mike, and this is my Stand…" He turned to Lincoln, and as he pointed to him, the crows Radiohead had knocked down returned to consciousness in an unusual manner, twitching and contorting rapidly as if they were possessed, and their bones seemed to snap back into place, before the portion of the murder flew atop Mike's leather-covered shoulders. He stretched his arms sideways, and the other corvids halted their flight in order to perch themselves on his arms.

"...Counting Crows!" The murder hopped off his limbs, and the whirlwind of black feathers obscured his body, and before the two best friends knew it, Mike's form became indiscernable from the murder of crows which had attacked Ronnie Anne.

"Great. That's just great." Lincoln sighed with a hint of anger in his tone, raising up his arms and tightening his fists in anticipation.