July 27th, 2030 - Near Los Angeles
The convoy moved at a rushing pace, all vehicles synchronized in movement. For the sake of safety protocols, all five armored vehicles had their headlight off, all personnel sporting night vision goggles. The night was quiet, no stragglers or hostile movement in sight, or anything out of the ordinary. The very special cargo, two phenos of the so-called Patriot force, would soon be delivered to a state-of-the-art high-tech black site, where the sun would not reach.
This was McMahon's personal playground, a field where he could so easily win by labeling them society's true menace, as proven back in the shitstorm that went on in Royal Woods days ago. Two of them down, and soon the others. He had flown to California just to see them rot in the hole, already feeling the immeasurable pleasure he'd draw from it.
Except that there was a third party involved, composed of two teenage girls from a voluntary time displacement. These girls were simply here to kill one man to save a great many. And that man, Lincoln Loud, was at his most vulnerable point, killable. A perfect point in time for Lynnette Loud, formerly Laude, to rush in and swoop for the kill like a hawk taking a snatch for the frail mouse.
Act III: Further Into Darkness, Chapter X: The Bounty
Lynnette came in running towards them from the opposite lane, claws out for the speedy kills. Everyone could die for all she cared, not like mother Lynn said anything about leaving the nameless guards of the convoy alive. That, and she sorely had a quench for a little murder, which might or might not have been the reptile side of her. Lynnette was as cold-blooded as normal as she looked to be.
She came across the convoy real fast, holding her left hand out diagonally, slashing off the tires and scraping metal for all five vehicles, then repeating the cycle to the other side. She was quick to disappear into a hiding spot in the middle of nowhere, whereas the armed personnel were quick to take exit and load up with their pheno-killing firepower.
"Fan out! Cover all sides!"
"Secure the package! We've got a special guest tonight, boys!"
All guns pointed outward of the convoy. "Clear!"
"Clear over here!"
"No visual on tango!"
"Maintain sights, men! Piercer is out there!"
Lynnette dashed across the road, slashing a personnel guard in half, vanishing to the other side with their weapon.
"Edwards is down! All units, close distance onto the package! Extra tight!"
Lynnette took aim with the advanced rifle she gripped, firing two shots before scampering away at her abnormal speed. Once the guards had locked on the muzzle flash, Lynnette took two by surprise, clawing them down to size. "Over here, boys!"
"ON YOUR SIX!"
She tossed a guy right into the side of the carrier vehicle, tugging the pins off the grenades on his belt. "Boom goes the dynamite!"
The following explosion tipped the vehicle to the side, crushing three more guards to death. The force of the impact propped the back open for Lincoln to crawl out of. He had been depowered inside the vehicle, but out in the open, he found it easy again to bust out of the cuffs and chains placed on him. Right on the ground, one of the advanced rifles awaited his cold, shooter touch. He picked it up without so much as a second thought, unsure of what to make of this situation.
Was this his sisters at work? Maybe a new, secret party on his side? He could say that he needed support, and that was realistically unlikely; who would side with the ex-Freight and the blood-stained hands? Either way, he'd have someone to aim at- and that someone was fighting the final few guards left, only thing were dark, and there was no way to actually see them. "I can hear you!"
Lynnette had predator vision, a bonus perk that let her move in the dark without relying on light sources. The same could be said for Lyra, but this chapter contains no Lyra. Once the guards were all downed, Lynnette squared off with the staggering father of hers. She had a nice laugh watching him bump around in the dark. "I bet you can, but can you find me?"
That voice, that- That can't be, Lynn's knocked out in the...- "So, who are you, and why do you sound like-?"
"I might just be Lynn herself," Lynnette played, remembering her mother's place in this. "You took your eye off me, did you not?"
Lincoln bought it, hook, line and sinker. His head went back to the downed armored van, and for a second, he actually believed it to be Lynn messing with him. And here, the zoomer in green and black took the advantage, coming up right behind him to strike and kill. Or so she thought she had the upper hand.
Lincoln turned and aimed the rifle at Lynnette, shooting her low in the stomach as she had come charging, her direction quickly changing to the left and downward. "Nrghhh! H-how did you-?"
"It's almost like her voice, but the thing that was off was the lack of groans of these guys. My Lynn does not kill, and that's a fact-" Lincoln brought up the rifle to Lynnette's face. "Now, who are you?"
"Death!" Lynnette slapped the gun away, going for a hailstorm of her punches to deliver unto her father. "Take this-"
The shot that Lincoln took to her body did not harm her, but strip her away of her powers, and she had only perceived it as an injury that healed just as fast as it had formed. Her attacks amounted to nothing, so easily blocked and countered by Lincoln. He had her, spun her around and locked her in a firm chokehold. "Start talking."
"F-ffffffff... K-kill you! Kill you!"
"Sure you will..." Lincoln picked up his daughter with both arms, and heaved her back down to earth as hard as he could. "But not today, fake."
July 28th, 2030
Things weren't easier as they've just been the past few days. At no doubt would Lynn wind up in a hell of her own if she never woke up in time to get away before the reinforcements came in. He could have rescued her, but that's not how he wanted to play it. Not since Lynn had gone berserk back in Royal Woods, taking his characteristic to be blood-craving like him, itching for any clone she could terminate. It was for her own good at the second, but there'd be a time to break her out from that confinement to be damned to.
As for the fake Lynn, he decided he didn't care as much, and the fake would be on a steel table by morning, he was sure he had killed her dead. Still,.an expert who had gotten him out by herself, that took skill, and all the details had made him interested and curious. This, he kept a reminder to look into. Probably a McMahon puppet to speed it up, who can say? The senator was impatient.
But, damn this person in particular; Lincoln had been broken out, and if McMahon would, and he will, he would use this against Lincoln, and all orders would change. Simple terms, he became a shoot-to-kill target for heightening the level of extreme danger he presented, so no way for him to be captured again and get himself shipped to McMahon. Time for new tactics.
He was in Los Angeles, wandering the streets with no food or a proper disguise yet. He needed to reach a safe haven fast. No friends here, no allies of any sort left him at a disadvantage. Break into a clothes store solved the disguuse dilemma, but free food... Where in hell? No use holding up a restaurant, but stealing money...
Stealing... Money...? And then it clicked; he was in Los Angeles.
Later
He went around, drawn to the ghetto parts of the city. One such store he came across was just a front for some hoodlums sitting on drugs, at no doubt. None of that was interesting, but there was plenty of chow, guns and average clothes to snag off the bodies when he was done getting his hands bloody again. He didn't count while he punched and stabbed, and a few times, rounds went off, all of them being strays.
He filled up his stomach, taking on tacos de carne asada, the works. It was eating here, next to a body with its head blown off, where he reminisced about those times with Ronnie Anne, a former girlfriend of Mexican descent. For a girl, she had interests akin to a normal guy, which made her the ideal partner for him back then. There were countless good times they had, but all of them far out in the sea of life. While at that, he wondered what she was doing now, who she was today and how she was doing. He could barely picture her smile, hear that voice with her adorable laugh. Things were so simple and easier back then, so much that he could escape to the past if he could.
Snapping out of it, Lincoln wiped his mouth, moving around the back collecting all firepower left for the taking. This solved all his problems, now he just had to move. The mission was botched to high hell, no way to get to McMahon this way. The hunt had set him back to square one, leaving him to resort to the trail-sniffing method. He had been shaking up the tree for awhile, cleaning up the corruption and sinister motives planted within Kapacity Korp's assets. Maybe breaking into one would tell him all about McMahon... Fat chance.
Lincoln hauled off two bags of firearms, mostly handguns and shotguns, with only one automatic. Pity the best weapons and toys were scattered in the wind awhile back, and that included the easy teleporting across states in a matter of seconds. All can be damned.
Elsewhere
Peter McMahon enjoyed his cup of joe black, the liquid being too hot for his lips. For the most part, it was too good to be true. He didn't jinx it in any possible way he could have, feeling the luck of the world on him for a change. Lynn and Lincoln Loud were set to appear, restrained and placed in heavy incarceration here. It didn't go like that completely, for Lynn Loud was the only pheno who made it to the destination, but the fact of Lincoln's escape had enraged him greatly, bringing out his veins on skin level, turning his face puffy red.
The old man had one last card to pull regarding this mess. In his eyes, Lincoln was the greatest threat to take care of this little issue. This particular move was not the ideal one, posing as a risk that could connect him to the questionable action taken on. It started when he went into the office of the site's director, identity known as The Supervisor in the time they stepped foot within the perimeter. "How did this happen?"
The Supervisor had been informed of the little breakout miles out of the site. "Couldn't tell you myself, seemed we have more leaks that a cheap paper fucking cup, McMahon."
"Sorely unacceptable! Your men-"
"Did their best to defend the convoy, I can assure you..." The Supervisor was also on edge due to the loss of his men. "Cleaning this up is not easy, I have to lie to everyone's faces, say-"
"No," McMahon had other ideas. "Why are you hiding the fact that phenos did this? You and I know very well that we've got free-thinkers out there, and ones interested in Lincoln Loud. Why did they not spring out the other zoomer from the convoy?"
"Don't you get snippy with me, McMahon, I'd like to address the nature of this unnecessary massacre of my men if it dragged no fallout or investigations to my doorstep. Let me be clear, this is strictly black operations, not public records."
"Outrageous..." McMahon finished his coffee. "Simply outrageous."
"Be grateful we've got one of these supers in our midst, this will make the business suits happy for a change, one loose end to help divert the attention of vigilantes sanctioned by the Patriot Division. It might be what the world needs, it might not be, but this makes the group behind that group look like idiots for it."
"Conclusively, yes," McMahon agreed. "This other one, this Lincoln Loud surely seems like bad news. I find it dangerous to be letting someone like that roam the streets of America, especially when he just so happens to have been a member of the psycho Freights."
"Feel the same way," the Supervisor shared. "I'm sure the right measures will be rolled out. APBs and weekly alerts on him. Now... You have an interest in them, him specifically. Mind sharing your own thoughts?"
"Gladly, I'd like my country pheno-free- Crime-free if anything, and I fear the future of the nation if we can't do a damned thing about it."
"Overly worried?"
"Exactly right, I am but a concerned citizen," McMahon lied through his teeth. "Wouldn't you wish the same?"
"Yeah, yeah I would." The Supervisor leaned back in his comfortable office chair. "I take it you'll be leaving?"
"Very, I stopped by to see the mistake being corrected. Alexander Elmont was a fool to believe that random John and Jane Does could do his work. With that being said, I wish you farewell."
"Uh-huh... Good luck in all your endeavors, senator."
It might have been the inner paranoia or a sixth sense, but the tingle had gone off from his head to tell him that the Supervisor had gained suspicion of him, and there was no reason to be around any longer. The less who knew, the better. Next step was to head vack to the airport after this change of plans, as for Lynn Loud... To hell with that girl.
He would go on to fly back to the northeast in his private jet, and from there, a very special call had to be made. He held it up to his ear, waiting for the other end to be picked up. "Hello, it seems I have a clothes problem that needs to be solved right away."
"Of course! What are the details?"
"White clothes all over the place, not to mention it's the well known brand seen on the news. It hits you like a freight train."
"Ah, I know what exactly you are talking about. How many quarters are involved?"
"Five quarters for it, send to anyone on the maid list."
"Do you want the wet or perfectly dry?"
"Dry, nothing but dry."
"Note will be out soon, Mr. McMahon."
They hung up. Five million for his fucking head... This is what I have to resort to.
July 29th, 2030
Lincoln woke up for a brand new day, stretching his arms and legs straight, yawning out. It was a good sleep under a bland, average motel for the night. A shower and some breakfast to add and he'd be good to go, heading back east, part of a cursed road trip cross-country. Not what he hoped, but there had been a lot of driving more than the justice these last few days. It was too tiring for him, he wished he had a spare Matrix Portal to get him closer to McMahon.
He went to the window, looking out to see the van he rode in on. No cops around, or anyone on the sidewalk for that matter. The scenery was vacant, free of any living person- except that it only applied to ground level. The guy from across the street perched high on the rooftop of the adjacent building gave him a greeting with a round from the sniper rifle. Lincoln barely caught the glint of the scope, tumbling to his side to avoid the shot. The glass had shattered along with the passing of the bullet, and Lincoln crawled around from the window, spooked and caught without so much as a handgun. Not this again!
No time for the questions, he had to make it out alive. His mind perceived the shooter to be anti-pheno personnel, coming to kill him this time over capture. Smart. And then, it wasn't like that when he realized it was only one shooter centering the crosshairs. Not the work of an agency. Freelancer in the working area. Freelancer... Did they know about Lincoln's invulnerability to regular slugs? Time to test it.
He crawled under the window, raising his arm out in the open. If it went through the palm, he was dead being pinned like this. If not, he could walk out of it alive. The shot rang out, echoing through the vacant streets.
And the bullet deflected off of his hand. Fuckin' A!
If anything, Lincoln was arrogantly brave and ballsy, feeling once again to be the indestructible force of nature. He showed off by standing up, putting himself out in the open to challenge the shooter. Right away, he knew it wasn't that young brat Lemuel again, but some amateur with no information on him. An easy win for Lincoln for sure.
The shooter himself continued to unload his magazine free of rounds, centering right over Lincoln's heart. And he fired, but the target on the crosshairs did not go down, nor did the round seem to pass through Lincoln, leading him to continue. "What the fuck-"
Lincoln jumped down to the ground, mobilizing to the van to arm himself while the mystery sniper had to reload- and in that timeframe, Lincoln was running it across the street with the nice double-barrel at hand.
Oh, man! The shooter himself had good reason to be afraid, knowing to retreat now. He packed up, strapping the sniper on his back, repeling down over the backside of the building. They said he was a pheno, but a bulletproof one?!
Lincoln had barely reached the entrance of the building when Lynnette, interested in round two to make up for being humiliated recently, stopped him dead, flipping him back onto the road. "Your fight is with me, now!"
That voice... The fake Lynn! Lincoln had lost his shotgun as he flew back, leaving him without s weapon. "Not you again!"
"We've got some unfinished business, Lincoln!" Lynnette growled, intending to finish the job here once and for all. She circled Lincoln and kicked him from behind as he stood up, sending him on all fours. She brought out her deadly claws, grabbing his head and setting her claws on his throat. "This ends-"
The shooter had circled around the building, seeing Lynnette about to take the bounty prize from him. He objected to it, grabbing his sniper rifle, taking aim and firing at Lynnette's legs, which immobilized her zoomer ability. "If anyone is going to collect that money, it's gonna be me!"
Lincoln picked himself up as Lynnette lost her balance, tumbling down. He gave chase to the shooter in the skull ski-mask, who ran down the street. And the grand escape for the mystery shooter came in the form of a self-operated motorcycle that slowed down for him to get in on. "Damn it!"
"I'll see you again soon, Lincoln Loud!"
Lynnette dragged herself away only a few feet before Lincoln forced her on her back, jamming the shotgun barrel onto her cheek. "Oh, God- Bastard!"
"You have her voice, wear her face and suit, but you can't be Lynn..." Lincoln was in no mood for games again. "You working for McMahon?"
In his mind, he began to reconnect the dots, wondering if McMahon had known his change of tactic, suspecting that his capture was of the willing kind to get closer. Lynnette, or a random pheno with shapeshifter abilities, was an assassination task at no doubt. It also begged the question as to who the shooter was and what the goal was. There were those words he heard. Collect that money... What money?
"Who is McMahon?" Lynnette wished she was caught up in the world politics.
"I ought to kill you for mimicking my sister... But then again, I tried that once-"
"I clearly can't stop you," Lynnette knew, speaking out with some tough-girl bravado. "But just know that I am not the only one hunting!" Lyra, you'd better finish it if he kills me...
"Hmmm..." Interesting choice of words that made him reconsider pulling the trigger. "If I shoot your face off, will you die?"
"Find out yourself, Lincoln!" The shells in her legs were finally forced out by the healing process of her body, enabling her to run again. "Ha, looks like I'm back-"
Lincoln blew open her chest, thundering out a bloody hole that brought out a storm of pain for young Lynnette. He dug the barrel deep into her flesh, moving it around to dislocate key body parts as much as he could. Now she totally needed a new suit after healing it in the next few minutes. Lincoln pulled out the shotgun and grabbed a fistful of meat- he was hungry enough to resort to cannibalism, horrifically scaring Lynnette. "Wonder how pheno tastes like."
"Y-YOU SICK FUCK, DO NOT EAT ME!" Lynnette pleaded. "NO, YOU DISGUSTING-"
Lincoln gobbled down on Lynnette flesh, taking four bites before running back to the van at the motel. He pulled out, running over the screaming Lynnette without ever looking back. If that didn't kill the pseudo-zoomer, then nothing would. Things began to make sense when he put on the radio, hearing a special bulletin notice on his escape and the reward for the information that led to his capture. This wasn't necessarily McMahon at work, but the report gave him the idea that the senator had created his own bounty and sent it through the criminal underworld via the connections tied to the Black Network. All the contacts had passed it down, and the shooter and this pheno now seemed likely to have answered to it.
Smart, assembling assassins and bounty hunters to his doorstep. Who was next?
The answer came in the form of three Mustang GT vehicles coming fast from behind him. He was half of a full tank of gas at the time, no need to stop to load yet. He figured he'd get a few more miles further into the highway he drove on, but it didn't happen. The first GT drove up on his left, the second one moving to the front of the van, and the third one finalizing the blockade onto the right. He knew the hailstorm of bullets were coming before it happened, and the only wish he had was that the windows would at least be bulletproof. Not even that.
He slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel left, pit maneuvering the left vehicle to its side, driver and passengers lined up for him to take clean shots at. The car had slowed him down to make him stop, leading the other two Mustangs to do so as well. The dance started again out in the open like this, a nice little shootout with him against eight other men looking to collect.
Later
"He ate me, Lyra!" Lynnette pulled at her ripped uniform, hissing away with discontent. "He pulled from my chest and the audacity-"
The visionary brain on Lyra had only made her gag a few times before submitting to vomiting, cursed by the disgusting imagery that played mentally. "C-can you stop? I get it-" She let out another load. "That's gross-"
"That's twice, how is that possible?!" Lynnette was in disbelief that she found to not be lasting here in the past. "I hate this place, I wanna go home now."
"We can't yet, I know you under-" Lyra coughed the last of her vomit out. "Hrrrk!"
"Help me with this, Lyra," Lynnette requested. "I know where you stand in this, but I need your help. Just help me take him down and I'll end him."
"So you admit that you aren't the best?"
"Don't."
"I'm no better either."
"That's what I think, but... Come on, we gotta go in together."
Lyra let out a breath of air. "Phew, alright, just don't go running off on me a third time."
Elsewhere
Lincoln switched rides after the last firefight, going fast in the Mustang until he came low on gas. He pulled up to a gas station, eager to also buy snacks for that nearly-empty stomach There shouldn't have been a dangerous enemy around this time, but it seemed his intuition was erroneous once more; he had been followed for some time by a pick-up truck hidden in between cars, the driver of the vehicle having seen their opportunity to strike.
Once Lincoln had walked out with a ham sandwich, a big, burly and fat man dressed in a blue suit held a heavy minigun, pointing it right on Lincoln. "MONEY'S MINE, LOUD!"
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" Lincoln prepared for the bullets, thinking he was going to brush them off. Only, he made the assumption that these were regular rounds; they were the pheno-killing kind. "DO YOUR WORST!"
This was where Lilith and Lumi came into the picture. Lumi, the telekinetic girl born of Lupa's essence, floated up, stopping the bullets from hitting Lincoln. Lilith flanked the attacking man, rushing at him. The minigun turned to Lilith, but Lumi redirected it upwards, letting the sky have at it. "NO! NO, I NEED-!" Lilith kicked him unconscious with a spinning roundhouser.
Who the fuck are these-? Lincoin rushed back to the Mustang to fill up, but Lilith and Lumi came to him while the cops were being called. A closer look at Lumi told him the surprising news that Lupa was alive. "Thought you were dead?"
"She isn't," Lumi revealed. "Also-" She punched Lincoln in the gut, her strength being superior over his own. "This is from her for killing her."
"Ergh!" Lincoln made no sense of anything anymore.
"Lumi, let's leave!" Lilith held her arms up. "Lucy's still right behind us!"
"Deep breaths!" Lumi soared above ground, grabbing Lilith to flee from the gas station.
This left Lincoln to search the minigun-toting madman, obtaining only the man's cellphone and wallet. Bingo, an actual driver's license that reduced points on his skills. Plan here was to go there and see himself out for a better weapons cache if it existed. Place could also be rigged, but who was he to not dive into risks? He left the scene feeling cocky, with the eyes of bystanders around staring at him and the unconscious man before he left. Hopefully the cops arrived before the man exited cold slumber.
Later
Three hours later, Lynnette Loud had once again found her father, settled comfortably in someone's house, or maybe it was his. Aw, who could say at this point?
She hid firmly into a bush, concealed right in the front yard along with Lyra. "We've got him trapped! Take left, I've got right!"
"Understood-" Lyra had her eyes on the windows, noticing a faint sparkle reflecting on one of them. "Hey, what is that?"
"What is what?" Lynnette stood up, jogging to the right side of the house. "No time to-"
A rocket struck into the front side of the house, sending the atmosphere from tranquil into a frenzy. The two zoomer girls were caught by surprise, left frozen stiff for Lincoln to come out with an assault rifle, taking aim at both of them. Apart from the fake Lynn, he found himself mesmerized by Lyra, a complete stranger to him. Didn't stop him from sparing her, regardless.
As for the gorgeous Lyra, she took it in, gazing upon the birth father she'd been told had run off to lead forces against the Prime Federation. Whether he'd been killed or not remained to be seen, but right away, she wanted to talk to him, daughter to father. There were questions already, and even under these conditions, Lyra split her lips to get something out. "White- white hair..."
"Stay still!" Lincoln bellowed, secretly wishing for a dampener to help him here. "Getting help will not do you any good, green."
"Double team, Lyra?" Sniper from the other side shot at Lincoln again, but the bullet never met contact; Lynnette stopped it dead, sparing Lincoln rather than ensuring he died. She wanted him to die, but not on someone else's terms. Lincoln kicked at her waist, knocking her down the steps. He pushed past the statue that was Lyra, not sure how to respond. Lynnette learned from her mistake, flipped on her stomach and broke into a run, slamming right into Lincoln, but it didn't end there for her. "SHOOTER'S MINE!"
"Uh-oh..." Skull-mask had prepped up with the right tools this time, and yet, Lynnette Loud was around to prevent the prize money. "Oh, come on-!"
She grabbed him by his shoulders, disarming him free of his weapon, forcing him right down onto the backyard of the next house over. "YOU'RE MEDDLESOME, BUT THAT ENDS TODAY!"
"S-so are you, freak-" Lynnette forced off his ski mask, revealing a Mexican man nearly I'm his thirties. "Why do you need money, speed pheno?"
"Money...?" Lynnette held back her punches. "What are you talking about, money?"
"The... Bounty on his head...?"
"Bounty?!"
"Zoomer trash..." Lincoln really wished he had dampeners on him even more. He had been lucky to have survived this long, but something told him he had lucked out by now. Lyra didn't seem much of a menacing threat, but he didn't let his guard down for her. "What about you, purple? What can you do?"
"S-same as her..." Lyra staggered. "Are- Are you really Lincoln Loud?"
"You're not in it for the money?" The Mexican sniper went out cold, lights knocked out by Lynnette.
"Fuck the money..."
"What's it to you?" Lincoln quickly eyed the dropped automatic, mentally calculating the grab. "I don't think it matters, given what you're here for."
"...You know what our mission is...?"
"You can try to kill me, but I'm going to stand in the end," Lincoln triumphantly stated. "The girl in green failed more than once already, can you do any different?"
"Well-" Lyra had begun to sweat, knowing where this was going to go.
"NO!" Lynnette grew densely tired of being delayed of her mission. "HE BELONGS TO ME NOW! I'LL BE DAMNED IF I CAN'T BEAT HIM!"
"Sis-" Lyra insisted on double teaming on Lincoln. "We can do it together..."
"FUCK THAT! FUCK EVERYTHING!" Lynnette's mind had reached its breaking point. It broke her to know that she could be beaten this simply, even with a hardened mother trying to push her to do just as good as she was, if not better. The screams of failure sickened her, driving her insane and itching for more. It had to be the story where Lynnette was the champion through even the bloodiest of means, the story where she proved to have a place among the strongest. She could not afford to come back a disgrace, knowing what hung in the balance. "NOT YOU, LYRA! ME, ALL ME!"
Lincoln got in between Lyra and Lynnette, turning his back on the teenager in purple. It seemed like the fake Lynn had enough of consecutive fails under her belt. This was a little rant that led to a sloppy fight where judgment grew clouded, a fight Lincoln could win against the zoomer, assuming Lyra made no move of her own. "Bring it on."
Lynnette rushed it, running with her fists readied for a series of swings. Lincoln County a perfect counter to it that not even he believed would work. It started with him falling on his back, throwing his legs to stop her, and when Lynnette smacked against it, he worked hard to raise them up and threw her over his head. The impact on his legs left them in pain, and if he only stopped Lynnette without redirecting her momentum, he would have broken his legs for sure. Thank God he remembered the science of motion.
Lynnette flew a few feet high, falling head first with her hard fall breaking her neck, shifting her head stuck turned left. Things went dead after that, and Lyra tended to her sister's aid, freakishly poking at her displaced head. "Oh, God- Oh, no- L-Lynnette? Lynnette! Oh, my God-"
What- Lynnette...? Raised more questions than answers at this point, but one problem first. Sniper guy was still over there, and no self-operable motorcycle had come, meaning one problem to cut down. He wasted no time, running from Lyra and the thought-dead Lynnette, finding the thorn on his side laid down at the backyard, surrounded by the probable homeowners. One thing led to another, and the Mexican sniper died in his sleep, windpipe crushed by one stomp of his foot. Well, he stomped twice to make sure, scaring the homeowners before taking exit with the sniper rifle.
The two girls were gone by the time he came back to the street. Hopefully this time he'd be free of them, and any pheno scum wanting to collect however much they'd cash out on him. Yesterday. Yesterday, things were easier. Yesterday, he only had to worry about the Freights. Fuck this, fuck all of this. Patriots, Black Network, the non-stop agenda of one corrupt senator centered on revolutionizing humanity's future by committing genocide in secret. The entirety of two databases worth of stuff out there was bad enough as it was, to be taken advantage by anyone. So many problems, not enough Lincoln to solve it quickly before it escalated beyond his control, and he made no mistake in making the careless assumption that he had free time.
He wondered for one faint second how the others were doing, and how they had it since the personal feud in Royal Woods. Luna and the twins, joined by Sam, Link-A and the prototype for the superior human, they were somewhere out there doing fuck knows what, but knowing them, it was not fighting back against McMahon and Kapacity Korp. He was the only one who cared enough to end that particular war. Just him, just the ravenous Lincoln Loud.
Like he'd always been. Alone.
AN: Act III ends here at last, and it's slower in story progression than I hoped, but things pick up to the steady beat back around. Looking back, I might believe this or the previous chapter to be weaker ones of this act. Perhaps it was, but there's always more to increase and keep it floating.
Act IV starts next year, and with that, the mind games really begin.
And then, there was a couple seated at a table just outside a Starbucks. And then, the other man of short, spiky hair, height of 5'9 and pale skin than matched a vampire's own, with his blue eyes protected by a disturbing black color that screamed emo, yet looked also punk, came into the picture, had been already by then. The woman of the two seated rose from her spot, heading inside to conduct her business. Here was the slick opportunity for dude to start his favorite game.
"Hey, brother, that's a pretty lady for ya," he smoothly let out, taking the woman's place. "
"Um... Yeah...?" The boyfriend narrowed his eyes, then shot his head around in confusion. "Why- Why are you-?"
"Sitting here?" Punk dude tapped on the table. "I'm getting to that..."
"Seriously-" It made the boyfriend antsy and impatient real fast, but Dylan Blood was faster.
"Got a question for you, man. Tell me, do you love her- What's her name? Courtney? Amanda? Tara?"
"That's... None of your business... Please leave."
"Have you been proposed to her yet?" A nice smirk of cockiness formed across his face. "Oh, you haven't, I can see it."
"Leave now!"
"Can you say you truly love her if that's not the case?" Blood tapped faster on the table, now using both hands to sing along with the tone. "You don't love Rachel."
"No, I do! I do, and I would also love it if you just left!" Boyfriend stood up, cup raised at waist level. It certainly looked like he'd spill it onto Blood. "Who do you think you are anyway?!"
"How can you prove it? How do you know? Does she even love you back? Does she cheat?"
"I know Jade! I know she wouldn't do that-" Silence was drawn at the table. "No, she wouldn't..."
Blood got it, pulled on the threads of doubt to exploit and break down the man he had never seen before until today. He spun it, wrapping it around his fingers. "Tell me know, do you still not doubt your love for her? Do you not also doubt her love for you?"
"I love her-"
"But the other way?" Blood stood up to circle the distraught man. "You're not in her head, you can't see her thoughts, how do you know she truly loves you?"
"I don't...-" He shook his head, dangling in shame and humiliation now. "I shouldn't be-"
"I can see that you are conflicted, now..." Blood pulled up the man's chair. "You tell me, did I make you reassess what this relationship you have with her really is? Hmm, did I?"
"I..." The man ended up lightly sniffing. "Yes, yes you did...-"
"...Then you fail..." Dylan Blood revealed a survival knife from the back of his shirt, jamming it right underneath the man's left armpit. "You doubted yourself by influence of another. You are an unworthy, weak-willed man no good for the rest of us. I sentence you to death in humiliation, and the last thing you'll ever see is the woman you doubted. Die with shame."
"N-no...-" The man stumbled down onto the chair, bleeding in pain. "Y-you tricked me-!"
"No... You tricked yourself, but the operative word is..." Blood left it at that, walking away for the man to die knowing he had brought into question what had been always real.
Fooled.