"Keep walking forward." Fiona droned, bored out of her mind.
The job had reached a new low. This wasn't an unusual occurrence by any means, working for an interplanetary conqueror had lost its luster long ago around the point where she realized that her main duty was to get beat up on a regular basis, but somehow it seemed like there was always a new bottom to sink to.
"Are they still walking?" Maggie asked, leaning over her shoulder to get a better view.
"Yes, Maggie." Fiona hissed, shoving the younger girl back. "That's why I just said the thing that I just said!"
"I was just checking." Maggie grumbled, flopping back into her chair. Fiona fought down the violent impulse that briefly coursed through her body, and turned her attention back to her task. It wasn't Maggie's fault, not entirely. They were both on edge, but the balloon chested girl was just so...punchable, sometimes.
Today's bit of inanity involved the babysitting of the three remaining Thicc QT prototypes. For the sake of clarity, the girls had agreed on referring them at QT-1, QT-2, and QT-3. Maggie had posthumously pronounced their fallen sister to be QT-0, for consistency. Fiona hadn't found in herself to care one way or the other.
Because the thing, whatever it was, that Darkness wanted investigated was apparently in the neighboring Great Lakes City, there was something of a commute involved in traveling to the mission area. Darkness had professed that it would be impractical and needlessly unkind to force Fiona and Maggie to physically make the trip, and had taken steps to ensure that they would be able to manage the minions remotely. In truth, Fiona suspected the sentiment to be a pretext for having a bit of fun at his employees expense. Like literally everything the eldritch monstrosity tended to do.
This newest innovation in torture methodology involved a machine of Darkness' own design, which allowed the girls to monitor the QT's from afar as well as issue commands to them from the comfort of the home office. However, there were a few caveats to the arrangement, the first being the machine itself. The device resembled an old arcade cabinet, a truly ancient CRT monitor encased in an shell which caused it to sit six or so feet off the ground. High up enough that it was impossible to sit down comfortably while still seeing what was on the monitor, a feat made all the more difficult by just how horrid the picture quality was. This necessitated that the operator stand up while using the device,which was made all the more aggravating by the monitor being slightly tilted upward, forcing the operator to lean forward while they were standing up. The end result was an operating position that quickly led to aching feet and a sore back. The cherry on top of this glorious sundae was the method by which they would interact with the minions: a microphone, hard wired to the cabinet via a sturdy metal cable. The length of which was so short as to be useless, necessitating that the operator lean down even further in order to actually use the damn thing. In short, it was scientifically designed to be as painful to operate as possible. Fiona would be impressed if she hadn't been expected to actually use the thing.
"Yes, that's right. Just keep—No no no! I didn't say 'go right'! Arrg, why are you going right?"
The other problem was that the QTs tended to be very literally minded. QT-0 had displayed a surprising degree of autonomy while on her mission, but QT-0 had also gone rogue and torpedoed the entire thing with a violent rampage, which could have easily resulted in Fiona's very curvy personage suddenly becoming very flat. Hoping to prevent any future such incidents, the girls had decided to be a little more hands on.
"That's a wall!" Fiona screeched. "Back away from the wall!"
Unfortunately, the QT's turned out to be very literal minded when under the direct orders of their handlers, which necessitated constant attention and some very carefully worded commands.
"Okay. Walk towards the bus. Stop. Flip off the guy trying to look down QT-1's shirt. Good. Now...get on the—" Fiona caught herself in the middle of what was likely to turn out to be a very regretful order. "Walk up the steps and into the bus."
Much to her relief the QT's did as ordered. Fiona straightened up, wincing at the very audible cracking noise her back made as her spine popped back into place. Wearily, she motioned for Maggie to come over.
"There. Hard part should be over, now we just need to keep them on the bus. Tagging you in, gloomy." She grumbled, sighing in relief as she sank down into a nearby chair, happy to finally get off her feet. "Now, just like we practiced."
Maggie nodded and took her place at the machine. "Sit down in your seats." She spoke, very clearly and concisely. "Now...keep sitting. Continue to sit. Keep sitting..."
"That bus can't get there fast enough." Fiona muttered, her brief moment of relief now replaced by irritation.
"Is that them?" Sid asked pointing.
"Ambulance." Ronnie replied, not bothering to look.
"Is that them?"
Ding Ding
"Bobby on his bicycle." Ronnie absentmindedly waved at her passing brother. This had been going on for some time, the girls sitting out in front of their apartment building, Sid asking about each and every passerby, no matter how un-vehicular or un-Loud they might be, and Ronnie gently refuting her friend's enthusiasm. Lincoln was supposed to arrive hours ago, but it was now late afternoon, and the only word she'd received from the Loud boy was a vague apology text about "banditos". Ronnie had decides to hold off on being offended until she'd gotten a more coherent explanation.
"Is that them?"
"Vanzilla." Ronnie responded automatically, still absorbed in her thoughts. Bad enough that Sid was systematically driving her insane, but helping her sister from another mister with her kooky scheme was already going to severely limit the amount of time that she'd get to spend with Lincoln. And now he was off, who knows where doing who knows what, with who knows who? What if he was hurt? Or sick? Or engaged?
"Where did that come from?" Ronnie muttered, breaking from her musings with a violent shake of her head. Then her brain finally brought her up to speed. "Wait, did I say Vanzilla?"
"You did!" Sid chirped pointing again. Sure enough, the Loud family's rusted, ramshackle van was slowly making its way down the street, looking considerably more rusted and ramshackled than ever. Ronnie climbed to her feet as nonchalantly as possible, trying to ignore the hammering in her chest as Vanzilla made its approach. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the vehicle pulled up to the curb before them, and slowed to a complete stop.
CLANG
Then the bumper fell off. However, Ronnie quickly put all questions as to how, or why the Loud's beloved transport had ended up in such a state, as the passenger side door opened up and a familiar head of white hair poked out.
Lincoln hopped down from his seat, lightly touching upon the ground. Ronnie was briefly taken aback. Over his usual attire, the boy wore a long, dusty, brown poncho, frayed and tattered at the seams. His eyes, once alert and full of life, were now dull and sunken. Haunted, seemed an appropriate descriptor. Even standing still as he was, the boy was constantly in motion, eyes darting back and forth, shoulders and legs tensed, as if ready to flee at a moments notice, and in his mouth sat a small toothpick, which he chewed upon constantly. The boy...no, the young man that stood before her did so in stark contrast to the boy she remembered so fondly, and Ronnie found that deeply unsettling.
"Lincoln!" Ronnie jerked in surprise as Rita's voice pulled her from her ruminations. "I'm off to find a mechanic! Leave your poncho and I'll return it for you while you're having fun with your friends!"
"Sure thing, mom." Lincoln replied gruffly, his voice several octaves lower than usual. He spun around, and with a quick flourish whipped the garment from his shoulders and laid it upon the seat that he had occupied only moments earlier. He reached for his pockets, hesitating for just a moment...then withdrew a short length of rope, three arrowheads and what appeared to be a skinning knife, placing them down in a small pile and then closing the car door.
"Have fun kids!" Rita called out as Vanzilla noisily roared back to life and took off down the street.
There was a moment of silence as the trio watched the large hunk of metal speed away. Then, Lincoln turned around, and Ronnie felt her shoulders sag with relief. All traces of the...person, who'd been standing before her only moments before stripped away. Eyes, bright with energy and purpose, an easy, relaxed posture more befitting a boy his age, and that stupid bucktoothed smile. She'd missed that.
"Everything okay, Linc?" Ronnie asked, equal parts pleased and weirded out by the metamorphosis.
"Yeah." Lincoln let out a short chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. "But you wouldn't believe what the traffic was like."
Ronnie Anne took a moment to review her options. She needed to greet Lincoln in a manner that made him feel welcomed, but didn't clue him onto just how much she'd missed him. This was, after all the first time they'd met in quite some time, and this greeting was likely to form the foundation of Lincoln's memories of this trip. So, it behooved her to conduct herself with grace, and a degree of quiet digni—"
WHUMPF!
A blue and brown blur flashed into view and crashed into the polo clad child, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
"Lincoln!" Sid shouted happily, now wrapped around the boy, clinging to him with the sort of enthusiasm that a snake might display as it coiled around its prey.
"Hurk!" Lincoln gagged, as the air was forced from his lungs. He tilted his head down, seemingly only just now noticing the girl who had attached herself to him.
"Oh." Lincoln blinked in surprise. "Hey, Sid."
"Ronnie!" Sid hissed back at her in what had to be the world's loudest stage whisper. "He remembers me!"
"Of course I do." Lincoln laughed nervously, discretely shifting around, but unable to make any substantial movements, caught as he was in the brunette's iron clad grip. "We've met several times before."
Ronnie approached the pair, but stopped, briefly confused as Lincoln turned her way, his eyes widening in surprise. It was at this point that she noticed her right hand was clenched tightly into a fist and cocked at her side, ready to fly forward. Funny, she didn't remember doing that...
Ronnie took a deep breath and was relieved to feel her body loosening, releasing a tension that she hadn't noticed was there until just this second. She uncurled her fist, lowered her arm, and gently bopped the pale haired boy on the largest area of his shoulder she could find that wasn't currently occupied by Sid.
"Hey, Lame-O." She said, softly, looking him in the eye.
"Hey yourself, Ronnie Ann." He replied, smiling back at her. It was such a small thing, but Ronnie could already feel her cheeks beginning to heat up. She felt herself begin to step forward, but quickly found her path impeded. A quick glance down revealed the reason why. Sid. Right.
"How long does she usually do this for?" Lincoln asked, letting out a small laugh that, to his credit, it only sounded a little nervous.
"A while, if you let her." Ronnie crouched down slightly and positioned herself behind Sid. "She's got tiny, powerful fingers, like a rock-climbing chimpanzee."
"Oooh oooh, aah aah!" Sid shrieked, affirming her observation.
"The trick is to break her grip." Ronnie reached out, firmly wrapped her hands around Sid's wrists, and squeezed them in unison. A moment later, the brunette girl collapsed to the ground in a heap.
"And that's all it takes." She concluded, giving Lincoln a cocky smirk.
"Someone gonna help me up?" Sid mumbled from her new position on the ground.
"So, what's on the agenda?" Lincoln asked, once they'd gotten Sid back on her feet.
"Oooh, lots of stuff!" Sid shouted, waving her arms around excitedly. "We've got a whole evening planned!"
"Well..." She continued after quickly glancing at the sky. "We might not have time for it all now that we're running a little late. But if we cut out three of the arcade visits we were going to make, and spend a little longer at the pizza parlor, we should still be able to make the movie!"
"I could definitely go for some pizza." Lincoln replied, patting his stomach. Then he looked to Ronnie, expectantly. "Well, I'm ready when you guys are."
Ronnie glanced at Sid, who was also looking at her expectantly, but, unbeknownst to Lincoln, for a very different reason. And for a moment, her resolve faltered. She could just...follow along with them. Play video games, eat some pizza, watch a movie with her friends. With Lincoln. Sid would undoubtedly be confused, possibly even a little hurt, but Sid was ultimately good natured to her core. Ronnie could provide pretty much any excuse, and Sid would take her at her word, because that was the kind of friend she was. It would be the easiest thing in the world to torpedo the plan, here and now, and Ronnie would suffer zero repercussions for doing so. And yet...
Ronnie started, as if jolted by something. She made a show of reaching into her pocket, pulling out her phone, and frowning at the screen.
"Sorry, guys." She said with a sigh. "Looks like mom needs my help with something, and it's probably gonna take a while."
"Oh." Lincoln looked concerned. "Should we reschedule? Or maybe—"
"No, no." Ronnie cut him off, waving her hand dismissively. "There's no point in ruining everyone's evening. Why don't you guys just go on ahead. Alone."
"You, uh, you sure about that?" Lincoln asked, face scrunched up in confusion. "I'm here for a couple of days, I could just give my mom a call and—"
"No." Ronnie repeated, firmly. Damn him for being so considerate. "You should have a little fun your first night in town. And Sid doesn't mind showing you around, right Sid?"
"Not at all!" Sid shouted, a big grin on her face. The Asian girl slid her arm around Lincoln's and slid closer to him. "Thank you." She mouthed, silently.
Lincoln slowly glanced from Sid, to Ronnie, and then back to Sid again.
"Alright." He said at last, still sounding uncertain. Taking another deep breath, Ronnie walked closer, around Lincoln's currently unoccupied side, and pulled the pale haired boy into what she'd hoped was not an awkward looking side-hug.
"We'll hang out tomorrow, Lame-O." She assured him. "I promise."
"Alright." Lincoln nodded in agreement. He started turning towards Sid. "Well then, I guess we'd better be on our—"
"ByeRonniethanksagain!" Sid shouted, and like that the pair were gone, leaving Ronnie standing all by herself, the city sun rapidly setting behind her.
Ronnie let out a soft sigh, and started making her way back to her apartment. Being a good friend could be hard. But sometimes, having a good friend could be much, much harder.
Ronnie Anne collapsed upon her bed with a loud groan, finally allowing the tension that had been building all day to start leaving her body. Undoubtedly, once she'd calmed down a bit she was going to start making herself sick with worry, imagining all the fun that her two best friends were going to get up to in her absence. So it seemed like the thing to do, would be to find something to take her mind off the situation at hand—
WHAM, came the all too familiar sound of her bedroom door bursting open.
"Ronalda!" Bingo, distraction found.
Ronnie slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. And, as expected, found herself staring at her grandma.
"Hola, abuela." She muttered, giving the woman a small wave of greeting. "What's...up?" Ronnie's eyes widened as context clues began to filter in. There was only one reason her grandma would barge into her room at this time of night.
"No! Abuela, no!" She groaned, flopping back down and trying to pull the covers up and over her face—
WHAM
—And immediately froze as her grandma's chankla slammed into the wall behind her. She didn't even have to look to know that it would be embedded there, accompanied by a sizeable dent.
"You're going to help me fix that tomorrow." Rosa scolded her as she waddled into the room, closing the bedroom door behind her. Resigned to her fate, Ronnie threw back the covers and clambered back into a sitting position, waiting for Rosa to say those hated words.
"You're going on patrol tonight."
"Again?" Ronnie protested, weakly. Chanklas came in pairs, after all. "I just went out last night!"
"And you're going out again." Rosa replied, sternly, sitting herself down next to Ronnie. To her surprise, Rosa reached out and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.
"Mijita" Rosa said, softly. "I know you've been doing your best. You didn't ask for this, but this is what we've been preparing for. Something is here, I can feel it. And your duty is to find it, and stop it."
"Couldn't..." Ronnie glanced at the door. "Couldn't Carlotta handle it? Just this once? I'm kind of dealing with some...stuff, right now."
Rosa shook her head. "I wish she could, but you know it doesn't work that way. You inherited the family duty, and you need to uphold it until you can pass it on to your successor."
"Mom just had to stop at two kids." Ronnie grumbled, slowly climbing to her feet. "Couldn't have had just one more girl." And not for the first time, Ronnie found herself wondering if Lincoln could loan her a sister or two. Just for a bit.
With a sigh of resignation, Ronnie reached under her bed, and withdrew...the box. Black as night, and just as ominous. Not for the first time, Ronnie found herself glaring at its symbol laden surface, resenting it for what it represented.
"Mijita." Again, Ronnie felt her grandma's touch upon her. "You know I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important. There's something...dark, something evil out there. I can feel it. And you're the only one who can stop it."
Ronnie steeled herself, and gave her grandma what she hoped was a confident smile. "I know, abuela. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
Ronnie crouched down and pressed both her hands upon the box's decorated surface. The contained stirred at her touch, and moments later the lid began to slide apart, revealing its contents. A small, golden colored rod, though what the object was actually made of, she could not say. It was fairly compact, a little under two feet in length, topped at the end with a silver colored, heart shaped frame, at the center of which sat a pink gemstone of the same shape. Last but not least, a small length of bright pink ribbon hung from where the base of the rod met the frame. Such a small thing. So deceptively sinister. Ronnie gingerly picked up the rod, and held it at arms length. Now, for the second time today, regretting just how frequently she seemed to be the victim of her own sense of honor and fair play.
"You need to say the words, Ronalda." Rosa gently chided her.
"I know, I know." Ronnie groaned. She took a small amount of comfort from the fact that Lincoln wasn't around to see this. Doing it in front of Sid had been bad enough, and that was an experience that she most definitely did not want to repeat. With one last sigh of resignation, Ronnie slowly raised the rod so that she was holding it aloft, and with much reluctance, spoke the hated words.
"Shimmer...sparkle...rainbow...ribbon..." Ronnie paused, shuddering violently as she forced herself to complete the incantation. "...makeup."
And then her world went pink and sparkly.