Pre-chapter author's note: I noticed that there were some concerns in the comments concerning the age range of the youth gang (late elementary school to early middle school) in this story. I have a few reasons for making that the age range of the gang. One, the gang is supposed to serve as something of a foil to Lincoln, and I figured that it would work better if they were around Lincoln's age. Two, and this is something of a spoiler alert, Lincoln is going to be confronting the gang, starting in this chapter; if the gang was composed of high schoolers and early college age people, they would be a lot more difficult for an eleven-year-old runaway to deal with. As a side note, there is also a reason for the severe lack of police intervention, but that won't come up until a later chapter (here's a hint for you, though; corruption). Anywho, here's chapter three.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Loud House' or any other property in this work that I did not make myself.
Broken Mirror
Chapter three: Toppled Rulers
Lincoln, the boy without a family, thought that today would be a relatively simple day; he would help some high school girl named Carlota, along with two of Carlota's friends, with setting up their booth at a fundraiser that their school was holding. Lincoln was even going to get paid for his work. But instead of the simple day of fundraising shenanigans that he was expecting, Lincoln, along with everyone else at the fundraiser, were scared and rattled when a group of local youths, having formed into a rather violent gang that was keen on trying to make the city their personal stomping grounds, decided to raid the fundraiser. Booths were ruined, money boxes were stolen, merchandise was left in tatters all over the ground…it was safe to say that the fundraiser had to be declared a failure.
"I can't believe it," said Carlota's friend with the long orange hair, "The school's fundraiser was ruined all because that local youth gang wanted to have some fun at the expense of others."
"We can't let this keep us down," Carlota replied to her friend, her somber tone carrying a hint of righteous fury, "Otherwise, those little bastards win."
"It still beats me how the police have yet to do anything about that youth gang," said Carlota's other friend, a girl who was somewhat chubby but in a manner which made her kind of cute, "I mean, aren't the police aware of what those punks have done? Are the police not aware of how much the city as a whole has complained about them?"
"Maybe…" Lincoln began, getting the girls' attention; the four of them were getting lunch at a name brand coffee shop shortly after the ruined fundraiser, and simply trying to unwind. "…Maybe the police haven't done anything about the local youth gang…because they don't have any idea what any of them look like?" Lincoln continued, "I mean, you can't go after a suspect if you have no idea what said suspect looks like, right?"
"I highly doubt that," Carlota's chubby friend remarked as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat, "People who saw those little turds raising hell undoubtedly have given police sketch artists detailed descriptions of what said little turds look like." After giving an annoyed-sounding 'hmph', Carlota's chubby friend continued, "The police should have some idea of what some of those bastards look like."
"S-sorry," Lincoln remarked in a somewhat dejected tone, looking down at the hot chocolate that Carlota got him, "I was just trying to help figure out why nothing's been done."
Carlota, who sat next to the boy without a family, gently laid a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," Carlota replied in a sympathetic tone, "At this point, everyone is just grasping for straws."
A small yet sad smile on his face, Lincoln said, "Thanks."
Despite how the school's fundraiser ended, Carlota and her two friends still paid Lincoln, if only because of his efforts in trying to clean up the mess that was made by the punks from the local youth gang. Each girl threw five dollars into a pool and gave it to Lincoln, a total of fifteen dollars. After thanking Carlota and her two friends, Lincoln finished his hot chocolate. After talking with the older girls for a few more minutes, Lincoln took his leave. Given the time at which Lincoln left the group, the boy without a family figured that getting dinner wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. With the fifteen dollars the girls gave him, plus the roughly twenty-two dollars he had on hand when he ran away, Lincoln would be able to afford to get something decent.
He still had to be careful with his spending, though; approximately thirty-seven dollars total, although better than what he started off with, still wouldn't be able to last forever. Lincoln had to rely on cheap meals for the time being. He wanted to avoid eating too much fast food, so he figured that swinging by a convenience store and picking a few pieces of fruit from the baskets they tend to have there would help balance out his diet. Yes, that's what the boy without a family would do for his meals for the time being. At approximately six in the evening, Lincoln found a convenience store that, from what he could tell upon entering it, would serve as his grocery store until he could figure out how to earn a proper, stable source of income.
After a dinner that consisted of two apples, a banana, a small muffin and a twenty-ounce bottle of his favorite soda, Lincoln decided to wander around the city for a bit until it was time to turn in for the evening. Wary because of what happened at the high school fundraiser earlier that day, Lincoln kept to places that were as public as possible; there's no way youth gang members would be so brazen as to raise hell right in the middle of a busy section of the city. Once the darkness of night was starting to settle in, the boy without a family made his way back over to the park where he had found shelter the previous evening. After finding the playset that had served as his home, Lincoln crawled back inside of it.
It took him a while to settle down, and he had to get out once so he could find a place with a restroom so he could relieve himself. But once everything was taken care of, Lincoln, letting out a yawn that showcased how tired he really was, returned to his makeshift home at the local park. Crawling back into the playset, Lincoln tried to relax again. Allowing the exhaustion of his day to dictate what he'd do, the boy without a family finally fell asleep.
Lincoln woke up in his playset home sometime early the following morning. Crawling out, Lincoln stood up and stretched as he looked around; judging by how the sky looked, Lincoln guessed that it was roughly six in the morning, give or take a few minutes. Figuring that now was as good of a time as any to grab some breakfast, Lincoln made his way to a place with public restrooms, changed into some clean clothes in one of the stalls in the men's restroom, made use of his personal care and hygiene products, then proceeded to find a place that he could get some breakfast at. The boy without a family ended up going to the Burpin' Burger he ate at the previous morning, ordered a serving of some sort of French Toast-style breakfast sticks that could be dipped in a packet of syrup, plus a fountain drink.
As he settled into a booth so he could have his meager breakfast, Lincoln's attention was caught by something that was on the news on the TV that was mounted on the wall nearby. "…In the theft of a few hundred dollars," the news anchor said as footage of the wreckage from the failed fundraiser over at Carlota's school was played, "Additionally, at least eight people were hurt to the point that they required treatment at the hospital. Luckily, none of the injuries were severe. This instance of the local youth gang's unchecked violence has concerned citizens complaining yet again about the severe lack of police intervention." The news suddenly shifted to an interview with one of the city's residents, which just so happened to have been Henry, the older man that was talking to that Carlos man around this time yesterday.
"Those little brats have already gone too far when they beat a kid to death, and yet they continue to make the rest of us suffer," Henry complained as he was interviewed, "When will the police finally do something about them? What's taking them so long?!" The news shifted to another interview that, to the surprise of the boy without a family, was with that Hector Casagrande man who had shown him such kindness when they first met.
"Everyday those little hooligans are allowed to ride roughshod over the rest of us is a day I fear that something will happen to one of my grandkids," Hector said as he was interviewed, "Something has got to be done about those punks, and something has to be done right now!" The news then shifted back to a news anchor sitting at a desk.
"With public opinion shifting in the direction of becoming practically a demand for something to be done, more pressure than ever is now on local law enforcement to do something," the news anchor said, "And now on to weather. Tom?" As Tom the weather man began to drone on about what the weather was expected to look like over the next few days, Lincoln turned his attention back to his breakfast of French Toast sticks and a fountain drink. A lot of the city as a whole wants those youth gang members stopped, that much was clear to the boy without a family. But with how sloth-like the police were being in regards to doing anything about it, Lincoln was concerned that the local youth gang will, to borrow a quote from his ex-older sister Lori, literally take over the city. And literally is being used in the correct sense here.
Having finished his French Toast sticks, Lincoln proceeded to drink some of his fountain drink as he contemplated what was going on in regards to the local youth gang. Perhaps that one friend of Carlota's was actually wrong, that the police actually don't have any idea what any of the youth gang members look like. If they knew the identity of even one of the youth gang members, then the police would be able to get to work; with the identity of one of the youth gang members, the police can track that person down and apprehend him or her. Then it would just be a matter of time before said youth gang member gave up the names of other members of the youth gang. With that knowledge, the police would then proceed to make arrests, rounding up all of the youth gang members, thus eliminating public menace number one.
But without even one of the youth gang members to work with, the police could do nothing to stop the youth gang as a whole. The boy without a family was stumped as to how the police could proceed from here. If only they had a valuable lead like an identity…but considering the fact the police apparently have nothing, all of the youth gang members must be at least somewhat competent when it came to covering their tracks. They might as well have been taking stealth lessons from Lincoln's gothic ex-sister.
…And that's when a risky, not to mention nothing short of insane, idea popped into the head of the boy without a family. Lincoln had picked up a number of skills from the girls who he used to refer to as his sisters; after all, with all of the time he was forced to spend with them (heaven forbid he ever had any alone time!), Lincoln would have been surprised if he didn't learn a thing or two from those girls. As he worked out more and more of the details for the plan he came up with in his head, Lincoln was surprised to find that he was, even if it was ever so slightly, grateful for the severe lack of alone time that he had been permitted. After he worked out the last of the details for his plan, Lincoln knew that by the time his plan was finished, at best, the local youth gang would finally be stopped. At worst, the boy without a family would be dead.
…Seeing as though he didn't have a family, Lincoln figured that he had nothing to lose.
Over the next few hours, Lincoln looked around for any possible place where youth gang members may be found while taking care not to draw attention to himself. He often stuck to darker environments; before he began his quest, the boy without a family changed into the darkest-colored clothing that he had on hand, hoping he'd blend into the darkness with greater ease. Lincoln's foresight paid off, as not one person had even noticed him practically sneaking around. Once he started getting accustomed to his practical stealth mode, Lincoln had to resist the urge to pop out of nowhere to give someone a fright.
A little bit past one in the afternoon, Lincoln took a break, mostly due to having covered so much ground. Resting his tired legs, the boy without a family was a little annoyed with how he had yet to find anything that was so much as related to the youth gang. Maybe he had to take a few more risks when it came to-
"Aww man, yesterday was a hoot, wasn't it?!" a random voice called out, loud enough to draw Lincoln out of his thoughts. Getting up, Lincoln snuck carefully to the entrance of the alleyway in which he had been resting. Peeking out, Lincoln caught the sight of two boys he estimated to be roughly a year or so older than him. Lincoln's eyes widened out of shock upon seeing these two boys, and for good reason; he recognized them as two of the kids from the fundraiser incident from yesterday. They were members of the local youth gang that had been causing so much trouble for the city as a whole as of late. Figuring that this was his best bet, Lincoln waited until they had a fair bit of a lead, then he proceeded to follow them, all the while silently hoping that what he had picked up from his gothic ex-sister about stealth was enough to keep him safe.
"Yeah, trashing that fundraiser at the high school sure was a blast, huh?" one of the boys replied to his fellow, "Not to mention how much money we made snatching those money boxes from the various booths." Hearing that bit confirmed beyond any doubt Lincoln's suspicions that these two boys belonged to the local youth gang. They both also had the looks of punks as well; somewhat baggy men's tank-tops, baggy pants that even with a belt were starting to slip down, sneakers that were undoubtedly more expensive that the rest of their respective wardrobes combined, and varying hairstyles one would expect punk gang members to have. The two boys shared a laugh that was mostly haughty, but with a dash of darkness to it.
"Well anywho, I'm kind of peckish," the first punk said, "We still got munchies over at the hideout, right?"
"If not, we can always raid one of the convenience stores again," the second punk replied, "Or maybe old man Casagrande's place." With a casual shrug, the second punk continued, "It's not like that old fat sack of shit can do a fucking thing to stop us." The second punk's response drew a bark of laughter out of the first punk as they continued on their way. However, as the two punks made their way, they were unaware that they were being followed. Followed by a boy without a family who, upon hearing that these two punks might go and harass one of the people who had shown him kindness ever since he ran away, swore silently to himself that these two boys would have to go through him first before they could even so much as touch a hair on that nice old Hispanic man.
To Lincoln's relief, the two punk boys he had followed did not go to Hector's bodega store. Instead, they went into an abandoned building that, from the look of it, used to be some sort of storehouse. There was also plenty of dark areas as well, not to mention large crates that would hide him perfectly. Carefully peeking from behind one of the aforementioned crates, Lincoln saw the two punk boys flop down into beanbag chairs; there was a smaller crate between the two beanbag chairs, with a few bottles of soda and some snacks sitting on it. Off to the side, Lincoln also noticed a small pile of money boxes, similar to the one that Carlota and her friends were using at the fundraiser to hold the money they already had in case a customer needed change. The boy without a family had little doubt that the boxes were already cleared out.
Picking up a snack sized bag of chips, the first punk reached into it, only to have a disappointed scowl on his face. "Damn, this bag is empty," the first punk complained as he crumpled the bag into a wad and tossed it over his head, letting it land somewhere behind the beanbag chair he sat in. Practically melting into his beanbag chair, the first punk said, "When the hell is Wyatt getting back here? We need to do a chip run."
"Chill man," the second punk replied as he looked at the watch on his left wrist, "At this point, he should be back within an hour." As the first punk begrudgingly snatched a wrapped muffin from the crate between the two beanbag chairs, Lincoln hoped that, within the approximate hour that he had just been given, that he could sneak out of the abandoned storehouse, contact the police, and lead them to this storehouse while these two punks were still here; the police would apprehend them, bring them to the local station, and drill them for the names of the other members of the youth gang. With the problem of the youth gang taken care of, Lincoln felt that the city as a whole would-
"Hey guys, I'm back!" called out a male voice that Lincoln felt belonged to a boy about the same age as the two youth gang members sitting in the beanbag chairs. Sure enough, a third punk the same age as his fellows entered the abandoned storehouse; he was dressed in a manner similar to the first to punks, although whereas the first two punks were Caucasian, this third one had a skin tone that was partly cocoa-colored and partly tanned, indicating a mixed-race heritage. However, this isn't what caught Lincoln's attention about this third boy who had just shown up; the third boy was forcibly dragging a fourth kid into the abandoned warehouse with him. Judging by the appearance of this fourth boy, Lincoln estimated him to be about his own age, and felt that the fourth boy gave off an air of dorkiness, similar to that of Lincoln and his friends back in his old home town. Lincoln would have welcomed this boy were he to become a new kid at RWES.
Forcibly shoving the fourth boy in front of him, the third punk said to his fellows with an annoyed scowl, "This asshole here thought it'd be a good idea to give me some lip." His scowl turning into a sneer, the third punk continued, "You two up for helping me educate him better? And by 'educate him better', I mean 'beat the shit out of him until he bleeds'?"
"Oh, fuck yeah," the first punk said as he and the second punk got up from their beanbag chairs, drawing a frightened 'eep' out of the dorky boy. From where he hid, Lincoln's eyes widened in alarm; he was about to become an eyewitness to an assault. If he played his cards right, Lincoln would be able to use what he witnessed to turn the three punks that were present in over to the police. Lincoln may even be able to convince the dorky to testify against the punks that were gearing up to beat him. …Assuming of course that the dorky boy survived the assault, which the boy without a family was afraid wouldn't happen due to a mix of what the third punk said and having heard beforehand that the youth gang had been confirmed to have killed before.
Lincoln snuck around where the three punks were surrounding the dorky boy, keeping to the shadows and behind crates and other forms of cover. When came to behind an old machine of some kind, Lincoln tried to peek out from behind it, but when his hand came into contact with the machine, Lincoln recoiled automatically due to how cold to the touch the machine was. Annoyed, Lincoln took off his backpack and rummaged through it, hoping to find something that he noticed was thrown in along with the clothes and personal care and hygiene products. Within very short order, Lincoln found what he was looking for; a pair of light brown soft leather gloves with a soft cloth lining on the inside. Slipping the gloves on, Lincoln tried once again to lay his hand against the machine he hid behind. Feeling no cold, Lincoln proceeded to carefully peek out from behind the machine.
Just as he did, Lincoln saw that punks three and one were holding the dorky boy's arms behind his back while the second punk had free reign at punching the dorky boy, dealing a few hits across his face, but mostly punching him in the stomach. Carefully yet quickly looking around, Lincoln saw that the second punk was close enough to a stack of crates so that, if said stack of crates were knocked over the right way, they would topple over the second punk, covering him in an avalanche of crates. This would alarm the other punks, who would logically move to rescue their fellow, thus giving the dorky boy a chance to escape, and hopefully tell the police about what the punks were trying to do to him.
Yes, that's what Lincoln would do. Sneaking over to the stack of crates that he had spotted, Lincoln positioned himself carefully behind said stack of crates. Knowing full well that he hadn't been spotted, the boy without a family proceeded to push against the stack of crates with all of his might. Silencing a strained grunt, Lincoln began to feel the crates moving forward. Eventually, Lincoln felt the crates move forward with more and more ease, letting him know that his plan was about to-
Lincoln was suddenly brought out of his thoughts when the crates all fell forward, creating a symphony of crashing noises that was heightened by one of the crates popping open, its contents flying out all over the place resulting in a quick blast of clattering. Lincoln even heard a few of the boys (he couldn't tell which ones, though) cry out before said cries turned into gurgles that, to the boy without a family, sounded sickening. After all of the noise had finally died down, Lincoln slowly peeked out from where he hid behind the one crate in the stack that didn't fall over (the bottom crate, obviously). What he saw shocked him so much, he was unable to express anything else; otherwise he would have expressed a mix of disgust and horror at what he saw.
The second punk was lying under one of the crates, his unmoving stillness indicating that he wouldn't be getting up again. Looking over to where the other two punks were, the boy without a family saw that the contents of the crate that he heard pop open were of the dangerous variety, and that they had fallen onto the boys in a way that made them like the second punk. By some obscene amount of luck (ha!), everything fell in a way so that the dorky boy was not hurt by the avalanche of crates or by dangerous implements flying out randomly out of the crate that popped open during said avalanche.
A few seconds into Lincoln's peeking out from behind the crate, the dorky boy stood up from where he was cowering on the ground in a fetal position. Looking around and seeing the horror that was around him, the dorky boy ran out of the abandoned storehouse as quickly as possible. However, just as he started to get over his shock, Lincoln could hear the sound of the dorky boy losing his lunch just outside of the abandoned storehouse. After gathering enough of his own nerves, along with collecting his things, and waiting until after he reasonably expected the dorky boy to run and get someone's attention, the boy without a family made his own way out of the abandoned storehouse.
Lincoln didn't get very far until he lost his lunch himself. At least he made it to a bus stop that had a trash can, which is what he threw up in.
END, BROKEN MIRROR CHAPTER THREE
Author's notes:
Like I said earlier, Lincoln was only going to get rattled by experiences that he was going to have; he was not going to (nor will he) get seriously hurt/outright killed (there's enough of that in 'No Such Luck' related fics as it is from what I've been hearing/seeing). Anywho, the next chapter will see the fallout of what happened at the abandoned storehouse.
