Chapter 5: Counting Crows, Part 2
The storm of corvids spun for a few more moments, and eventually, each crow had been redirecting each other's flight paths upwards, as if the murder was completely synchronized with every wing beat.
As he watched the birds ascend, Lincoln shouted out; "Ronnie! Got any ideas?"
"I think they're gonna dive-bomb! Can't you send an energy blast or something?!" She ran to his side, and Bouncing Soul wrapped itself around her arm, hissing at the birds above like an angered cobra.
"Unless you can get Lisa to deliver me some weapons-grade plutonium, I don't think that's gonna happen! The only thing powering Radiohead right now's the sun!" He grumbled, eyeing the formation of crows intently.
While the fight escalated, Clyde had ran towards the bleachers, occasionally peeking out to see his best friends eyeing the unusually enraged swarm of corvids. He crouched with his hands on his head, trembling as the Stand battle unfolded nearby.
'C'mon, Clyde…think! How can I help my friends?' He thought to himself, looking to the ground to ponder his options. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his face lit up, and he sprinted back into no-mans-land, fuelled by a last-minute plan which he barely knew would work.
Meanwhile, the murder of crows began to dive down onto the two close friends, splitting into two groups. "Watch out!" Ronnie Anne exclaimed, and Bouncing Soul had jumped into her dominant hand, morphing into an elastic flail-like weapon. She winded it up, and with a flick of her wrist, swung upwards, knocking two crows down as the rigid ball of slime made contact with their feathers.
As a group of five crows descended onto Lincoln, he steeled himself, cracking his knuckles as Radiohead followed his movements closely. "This should hold 'em back…" He formed two finger-guns, and his Stand followed suit.
"Concussion Barrage!" He shouted out, and from the tips of his index fingers, compressed pockets of air shot out of them like bullets. The tiny, speeding orbs made contact with the crows, dislodging their feathers and dislocating some of their joints in the process. The high pressure combined with the small surface area of the air bullets had put considerable force on the hollow-boned creatures; not enough to kill them but just enough to knock them around with ease. As his half of the murder flew in a crooked, confused manner, Ronnie Anne swung her slime flail once more, extending it further to knock down the disoriented birds.
"Good thinking, Linc–AAH!"
As she attacked these stray crows, however, the ones which she had knocked down struck from the ground-up; one had clawed at her exposed legs while the other dashed its razor-like beak against her forearm, leaving a tear in her hoodie's sleeve and a crimson gash. Blood dripped onto the grass, and Bouncing Soul retracted into a defensive form, splitting itself into segments as it wrapped itself around Ronnie's wounds like makeshift bandages.
"Ronnie!" Lincoln yelped, rushing to her side. "Get behind me!" Lincoln urged, rapidly rubbing his palms together as Radiohead followed his movements closely.
'The UV rays aren't much… but if I can clump its particles together and heat 'em up…' He thought to himself, as he separated his palms, the air between it appeared rather unstable, warping and distorting similar to the atmosphere of a hot summer day without any shade.
'...I can blast them back with a pocket of charged air! Or as Lisa called it, Air diffraction! Now, you birds…'
Lincoln clasped his hands around the shifting ethereal orb, and Radiohead provided support, overlapping his ghostly palms around the backs of his hands. As the five crows rapidly swooped down on him, Lincoln shouted out, extending his arms;
"...Get back!"
The compressed ball of heated air was launched forward with great speed, striking the other half of the flock with a burst of hot air, knocking them backwards while overwhelming their senses with the oven-like heat produced by Radiohead.
"If I can't knock you down, then I'll roast you instead!"
The crows began to cry out in pain, cawing into the sky above them. One of them began to violently flail around in the air, and a pair of hands emerged from it, followed by the voice of their adversary;
"Ow! Jesus, that's hot!" Mike shouted, falling out of the flailing crow, before disappearing into the body of another, less heated corvid.
"That's it! He's hiding in the birds…somehow. That's a hell of a magic act…" Lincoln commented, tightening his fists before blocking the crows' further blows with crossed arms. Radiohead's green forearms provided a thick layer of defense, slightly pushing back the young boy as the murder relentlessly advanced. Behind him, Ronnie Anne attempted to retreat to the bleachers, and every other step sent a surge of pain through her body. The wound on her leg was far more than a cut; it was a laceration which required extensive medical attention.
"Keep going, Ronnie! I'll hold 'em back!" Lincoln shouted out, and the skater girl let out some grunts of pain before finally reaching the bleachers, disappearing into the shade.
As he turned his head back to the flock, he pushed them back with his forearms, breaking their formation with another wave of kinetic force. As the crows spun in the air, attempting to find their center once more, one of them began to leak a beige, viscous, foul-smelling liquid from its feathers.
"Is that–eugh, gross!" Lincoln knew the putrid scent all too well; it was the same odor that Lily had left on the floorboards of their home, and when he had to help Leni sneak back into the house after a ladies' night out, she, too, had made that scent imprint itself into his memory.
As more of the liquid leaked onto the grass, the bird approached the ground, its feathers seemingly hindered by the heavy fluids. From its right wing, Mike emerged, his eyes watering and mouth covered with stains of whatever food he had upchucked from that morning's breakfast. He stepped away from the puddle left on the ground, and looked to Lincoln while hunched over, breathing deeply.
"If it weren't for my–motion sickness…this'd end differently, Lincoln Loud." Mike uttered with a tired, raspy voice, his throat ravaged by the acidic discharge. As he stared the white-haired boy down, the other birds began to flock towards the nauseous greaser; some perched on his shoulders while others simply stood in the grass next to him.
"Why are you doing this, dude? A-And how do you know about me and my family?!" Lincoln stammered for a moment, trying to hold back his anger as Radiohead stood guard over his shoulder. He clenched his jaw at the thought of his siblings being assaulted by Mike's murder.
Mike let out a few more breaths before coughing harshly. "I–I didn't wanna do it. They made me do it. Said it's for our own good…" He sighed, shaking his head.
"They? What are you talking about?"
"My…family. Family's orders. I can't say no." He said in between breaths, wiping the puke from his lips. "I'm not gonna hurt your sisters. They told me to stay away from 'em. Sorry about your girlfriend, by the way. I didn't know she was a Stand user, too…"
The young boy's face grew red. "You better be sorry, you–you piece of shit!" He stuttered, hesitating in his profanity.
"If you touch my friends and family again, I'll–I don't know what I'd do! But it won't be pretty, you–bastard." Lincoln raised his forearm, and Radiohead followed in tandem, creating an imposing aura which made Mike cower instinctively. As his confidence was shattered, the birds around him scattered to the skies, leaving the boy standing alone next to his pool of puke.
"Lincoln, stop it!" A familiar voice called out from behind him. He turned around, only to see Lucy running towards him, Clyde sprinting by her side. "Lucy?" Mike and Lincoln simultaneously reacted.
The boys looked to each other once more. "Wait, you know this guy!?" Lincoln furrowed his brow, and Mike gulped.
"Yes, brother. I know who Mike is–now I demand an explanation for what's going on here!" Lucy's voice held a rare anger, and from the shadow which she cast, a pair of white eyes glanced over at the two fighters.
"Well–your friend over here used his stupid birds to attack Ronnie Anne! And then me!" He crossed his arms, sneering at Mike with disdain. "Hey, I didn't wanna do it, okay–"
"-But you did it anyway, pendejo!" Ronnie Anne emerged from the bleachers, her Stand firmly wrapped around her wounds. "If I wasn't so beat up right now, I'd stick you to the top of the football goal!" She shook her fist at him, and Mike cowered once more.
"Okay, okay, let's just–calm down, alright? The best we can do is walk away, and…cool off. Oh! Leni could get Ronnie Anne fixed up, right?" Clyde suggested.
"Definitely. That's what her Stand is for, I guess." Lincoln answered.
Mike gave a puzzled look. "No way…your sisters are Stand users, too?"
"Oh, I thought you'd know, since you mentioned how big my family was, right?!" Lincoln shouted at him, and Mike stepped back momentarily. "Lincoln–" Lucy walked beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"-When you left to find Clyde this morning, our sisters and I were waiting at the bus stop, and we saw a murder of crows fly towards the new neighbors' house. And then…I saw him get out of a car that followed the lowrider. He knew we had a big family because he saw us standing outside!" She whispered to him. Lincoln's eyes widened.
"So…is it true? You're one of our new neighbors?"
Mike nodded his head, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the bits of debris from his motion sickness.
Lincoln leaned in to his sister's ear. "That still doesn't explain how he knew my name…and our family name."
Lucy gasped. "How strange...I wonder if he is a psychic. But why would Mike's family ask him to attack you?" She whispered back. "I dunno, Luce. But something tells me that we should probably get on his good side."
"Worry not, big brother. I already am." Lucy grinned, and Lincoln turned to the stranger. "Alright, Mike. Let's just call it a day–" He sighed.
"-Lunch's gonna end soon and Ronnie's gonna get fixed up. Truce?" He walked up to Mike, outstretching his hand.
Placing a handkerchief in his pocket, the young greaser reluctantly shook it. "Truce. I'd rather get punished by Chris than fight you guys again…"
–
Two hours later, when the dismissal bell rang, the elementary school students flooded the hallways and escaped the institution with glee, convening with their close friends to discuss the interesting events of the day; while most talked about the upcoming summer festival, Lincoln, along with his two friends, were discussing the much-anticipated pranking spree that would occur in the days before Ronnie Anne's departure.
"...so, basically, Chandler's afraid of spiders. I mean, like, really afraid. Doesn't Lana have one of those we could use?" Ronnie spoke, leading the two to the school's front entrance.
As they walked out, Lincoln eyed his on and off girlfriend with a concerned look. 'She still hasn't said what happened at that sleepover…I bet it's really bugging her. I guess we can talk about that later, right?'
"Totally! I just hope Chandler doesn't have any bug spray…" Lincoln replied, as the trio stepped out into the sidewalk.
"Yeah, that'd really suck. Lana would be completely heartbroken! Maybe we should just use a fake one instead…" Clyde added, and the friends nodded in affirmation. "Eh, yeah. Saves us the trouble–" Lincoln added, before his train of thought was interrupted by a concerning sight; Lucy and Mike speaking to each other on a grassy field. He paused to watch them, and Clyde looked to Ronnie Anne, whose face soured at the sight of the greaser.
"I don't wanna do it again, Lucy. My crows might like hurting people, but I don't. I just–I wanna make it up to 'em…" Mike frowned, looking to the ground.
"...You don't have to, Michael. All Lincoln wants is no one to get hurt. You made a promise, and that's all we needed to hear." She held his hand tenderly, however he retracted it swiftly.
"I'm sorry, Lucy…I'm sorry we had to meet like this. Maybe…we could meet somewhere safer. Not here. I don't want your older brother's friends to–" He turned his head, and saw Lincoln and Ronnie Anne staring him down. The skater girl reminded him of his actions, pointing to her bandaged leg as her eyes refused to break contact. "-oh my God. I'm outta here!" Mike ran away from the school as fast as he could, and as he sprinted behind a car, a trio of crows flew from a nearby tree to his location, allowing him to disappear within their feathers.
As the fraction of a murder soared homebound, Lucy was left speechless, looking up to the corvids with a frown. "Bye, Michael." She muttered, before turning to her older brother.
"Something tells me you're more than on his good side, Lucy." Lincoln commented, crossing his arms. "I understand that you three never wanna see him again. But I do. We share…similar interests. With the Mortician's Club scattering during the summer, it'll be good to have a friend down the street. You'd know, big brother."
Lincoln's serious expression was broken. "Oh–yeah. You have a point." He nervously chuckled, and Ronnie Anne stepped forward to interject. "Look, as long as he keeps his birds together, there won't be any problems, alright?"
"I got you. Besides, if he ever breaks our promise…"
From Lucy's shadow, the two piercing white eyes made themselves clear once more; the shadows of her arms formed into a pair of monstrous claws, crafted from the imagination of a child once deathly afraid of the darkness. "...Pretty Hate Machine should scare him into compliance." Lucy smiled along with Lincoln and Ronnie Anne, whilst Clyde stood idly, waiting for the paranormal conversation to pass. 'Hm. Really wish I had some spirit goggles or something…wonder what they're looking at.' He thought.
"Good to hear it, Luce. Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got a prankapalooza to plan out." He patted her head, and a slight grin formed on the young goth's face. "May your schadenfreude be great, and your enemies humiliated. Goodbye." She replied, waving at them as she disappeared behind a post, before emerging behind a car parked on the other side of the road.
"So, Ronnie, you wanna hit the arcade?" Lincoln suggested. "Nah, I gotta get these cuts healed before my mom sees 'em. Could you let Leni know?" She replied, wincing as she sat down on the school's front steps, for her bandages had rubbed against her wounds abrasively.
"Oh! Sure thing." He pulled out his phone, and as he scrolled past his sisters' contacts, Clyde looked to his watch. "Oh, dang, I gotta go. My dads need some help with some fancy Swedish furniture. See you guys!"
"See ya, Clyde!" Lincoln and Ronnie replied in unison, waving with a smile as he made his way towards the nearby sidewalk. "Swedish furniture. What's up with that?" Ronnie commented.
"Oh, I don't know…" Lincoln grinned, dialling Leni's number. "...it must be very guud, ya?" He did his best Swede impression, and the two shared a laugh as he waited for the fashionista to pick up.
"Hey, by the way, is it just me or–" She sniffed the air. "-you smell like–lemons?"
"You can smell that? Jeez, I'm surprised it's still on me!"
"I mean–there's nothing wrong with it…it kinda suits you, lame-o." She snickered. "Maybe if you sweat enough, We could have a glass of lame-o-nade!" The two shared a hearty laugh, while their peers passed them by with murmurs and giggles of gossiping intent. It may have been the last week of their Elementary School lives, but it was not the end of the small-town rumors.
