Ha! To think it would be easy to take off with this piece of shit! Why did I think it would be easy?! This tkwn, I tell you, this town was full of patriots-

They gave chase in their cars and trucks at first, racing from behind, and then they got smart, flanking around to cut the stolen cop car to box Lincoln in and rescue the kidnapped town politician. Happened again on Cryandia Avenue and Bonnie Court, a pickup truck of "good Samaritans" armed with AR autos, coming in hot like something out of a crime movie. They formed a blockade and surrounded him, ordering him to turn the engine off and let Matthews go. Not even that, not a chance in hell. They didn't know what they were about, or what Matthews and company had been doing in secrecy.

Holy shit, wait... What happened to the...?

In all the commotion, the camcorder with Heather's truth was lost. Right now, he couldn't recall what happened- No, he should have. It happened earlier today, why the fuck? What was wrong with him? But he laughed at it, he thought it was just twisted fate telling him that the better way, the legal method to win was tossed right out the window. It was a game of life and death, kill or be killed. Law didn't work here, it had to be the Wild West once more again. The gunslinger was destined to win because he wanted to win. He was a sort of justice that you could not see coming from a mile away. Him, with only one MP5K and a magazine loaded into it. He made an improvised exit, going a hard left in between the sidewalks and the front lawns of the common houses, avoiding the blockade.

"You're going to lose!" Matthews glamorously sang. "The mayor alerted Dadetown's citizens about you, and there are folks aplenty with guns and permits like nobody's business! KILL them, I dare you! Make yourself look even more like the criminal you are!"

Lincoln braked hard once returning on road, forcing Matthews to strike his head against the metal grate. "Shut up and buckle in, you scumbag."

"You're gonna break my nose!"

"Why stop there?"

"You're a psychopath!"

He was right, and he was wrong. Now, he had a point. Shooting these random citizens did not bode well for me, but shooting at their tires-

Lincoln pointed the firearm out his window, shooting the tires off the truck that tried to get next to him. "Bet they didn't think to do that before, those dumbasses."

"That's goddamn George Burkin's truck!"

"Don't care!" Lincoln spat. "We are leaving town!"

"At no doubt figured out that you're gonna kill me, you want to!" Matthews wasn't panicking too much like Lincoln had assumed. Weird. "Nelson said he had trouble identifying you, but you've given us a name. That's Jerry Cruise, that's supposed to be you."

"Uh-huh..."

"So... Who is Lincoln Loud to you?"

His heart skipped a beat. Good to know Wheete-Glass spilled the beans, as mysterious as it was to them only. Fucking Christ. He paused to recollect on that story he shoved to Wheete-Glass. "I don't know who that is."

"Sureeeee you don't," Matthew sarcastically rolled his beady eyes. "You know what I think? A drifter who came out of fucking nowhere, prints matching with a young boy not even in middle school yet, that isn't coincidence. Maybe Nelson was dumb enough to buy a faulty bug, but I won't. So here I am thinking..."

Lincoln was one second away from sweating.

"That boy is your son, gotta be."

What- Wait! Ha! HA!

"Looked into the Loud family myself, it's quite a big one, I might add. Your bastard son raised by some other man, if that isn't funny?"

"Yeah, it sure is humorous," Lincoln agreed. "It sure is-"

A van came plowing into the cop car, spiraling it into a pit maneuver that put Lincoln off the road. The inhabitants of the van sprung out and surrounded the patrol car with pistols and tiny autos. "Get out! Get out of the car!"

"Mister Matthews, are you okay?"

"Get me out of here!" Matthews boomed through the glass. "Watch his gun, watch his gun!"

Lincoln found himself in another tight squeeze again, surrounded by guns with no way out. Shit wasn't like the movies where he could attack and disarm one so easily while the rest watched. Impossible, even for him right now. He let go of the submachine gun and raised his hands, giving himself to the armed townsfolk. "Don't shoot."

"Come out with your hands up and we won't resort to it!" None of these men were masked like some vicious thug gang. The amount of bravery and balls stupidity was some miracle here, but they knew nothing. God, where was the damned camcorder? Could that metallic little shit do anything right now? "Nice and easy!"

"Sure!" Lincoln came out rather slowly, arms away from his body. "You've got me-"

"Thank you, thank all of you!" Matthews praised the group. "You're good people, you hear?! You will be acknowledged, you will be rewarded-"

"Get him on his knees!"

"Easy! Easy..." Lincoln never defied the armed men for all it was worth. "Don't shoot."

All I could think about was living... And this life was shit as it had ever gotten, when you looked outside the box. Look at me from the distance, I'm no hero. I'm not a savior, all I knew was the hammer, and I kept hammering away at the same type of people simply because I wanted to. Oh, I felt compelled to. Time and time again, I've seen it all go ignored in a contained environment. Here, those who sorely knew of Matthews' real sins did him no favors and let him walk. These enablers just had to to, you could be certain of that. Still, I got myself into quite the pickle, just how would I get myself out of this one?

American Albino, Chapter X: The Ungodly Stormbringer

Lincoln found himself right back in the very same cell as he wound up in the first time around. Home, sweet home and all that. The other guy, the same black man was also there, but it wasn't much for him to be surprised about. Mike Packer had been asleep until the commoners had helped the police bring Lincoln in forcefully. One or two guys, maybe the same one, had deliberately smashed their guns upon his head, letting Lincoln bleed away before being transferred into the cell. They didn't care for his status and fate for what was coming next, but here it meant that Good Guy Matthews could- Oh, yes he will- paint that pretty picture and make himself look good. Everyone dead or behind bars involved in this could very well be antagonized; they were just liabilities to him at this point. Poor Wheete-Glass, poor Rostovich, and poor Raymonds. Now...

Lincoln curled his fists from his hands at the wonder of how Matthews would utilize Heather the Flying Cannibal Girl. Against him or to boost credibility. Heather, some tool in the campaign now, in the heat of this mess. Hey, what about Remender and the gang? Those dead bodies would soon be found, or maybe not soon enough. Shame, they'd be recognized as losers with a minor obsession to destroy the man's reputation. Maybe some jokes, or just that. Losers whom he got killed.

Shit, those morons couldn't do one lousy job... Fucking shitshow.

He rested on the bed to make the most of it and lied down. He closed his eyes. Blank state... Until Chloe popped inside his mind. Her face, that lovely set of eyes, and that weird, identical look she had to Luna. That same hairdo seemed more common, not that he'd met enough Pixie Cut girls in his life. How they could have been friends it the world didn't run the way it did.

No, even then...

He wondered what she was doing at the second, but he did come to an agreement with himself that she was safe at the least. His responsibility with her had long since ended, so why... Why did it feel funny? Why was there some faint voice that told him otherwise? Perhaps it wasn't... Or maybe that voice had been saying something else, something not "You go and protect her!" but these words were too lost in the fog to make out.

But his heart had been revving wildly when that woman entered his mind. You make me feel this way... Why do you?

Chloe was warm, and he didn't know it, or he had and refused to accept it, that stubborn bastard, but he was missing how hot her skin felt, how close she got to him without being in fear of him. Her kisses and hugs meant enough for him to wish- Where are you?

Being here in the cell gave him all the time in the world to ponder away without any distraction. No way out of here, come to consider. Funny how all chances were missed when he was that close to Matthews, and those times he wasn't quick to kill away. He had him captured even, not long ago, he had won. I had you on the ropes, I've been beating you... I've won... And I lost because I didn't kill you and flee. Did... Did that punk Remender have me go about it differently?

He was angry at himself that he forced himself off the bed and punched at the bars- and made a dent upon two of them outwards. "Huh?"

Mike Packer rotated from his bed and faced Lincoln. "C'mon, I'm trying-" He hadn't known it was a familiar face instead of some new guy. "Well, I'll be damned, it's you again!"

"Nice to see you again, man," Lincoln platonically said. "Hope you've been treated well."

"Well can mean a lot of things," Mike laughed dryly. "But I wish I was at home with the missus."

"Married, huh?" Lincoln nodded slowly. "Nice."

"Perks and cons, man," Mike shared. "Lemme tell you right now, throw all your arguments for her sakes when you get here, right where I am."

Lincoln laughed, a hearty laugh that was just as rare as gold. "Yeah? Even if we're right?"

"Oh yeah, man," Mike replied, shaking his head. "Even when we're right."

"Ha, that's crooked," Lincoln joked.

"But it's essential."

"Anything else you have for me?" Lincoln asked. "Honest to God, I have never seen myself settling down. It's not that I avoided the concept, more like I never had time to think about it. I've got so many things and... Well, up to here, I'm still single and real busy."

"College student?"

"Something like that," he simply said.

"You're- You're fucking with me, ain't ya? College is full of those smart, hot babes, and you're telling me no girl's caught your eye?"

"Well..."

"See? You can't hide from good ol' Mike, my man." Mike took a wide yawn in between. "Excuse me- Anyways, you're not getting any younger, man. I'm sure you know that by now, so why you holding back?"

"I couldn't say..." Lincoln rubbed his fingers on the dented bars. "I'm certain she likes me, but I'm unsure of it. Best I could describe it, it's a road that never ends, and this girl, this Chloe, she's not the first thing in sight."

"Obstacles, okay..." Mike cleared his throat. "Then push past all of it. You're vague, I can't tell if you mean to suggest these obstacles are of the mind or just a busy agenda that strips away your time from her."

"Both, it just might be both..." he lamented.

"If you're certain, you can change that, my man," Mike believed. "You'll get out of these bars faster than I will, and when you do so, you know what to do. Know how I know? Becasue you seem to be aware of the blocks."

"Yeah."

"Well, that's all I can give you, but I trust you'll learn your own way-"

Just outside the precinct, a collective of angry cries and murmurs cut Mike off. Both cellmates turned their attention outward the cell bars and listened in to try and make out the faint screams. It was a mob formed in heavy protest for the head of Jerry Cruise. The officers left had then abandoned their posts to keep them at bay.

"Are we having a parade?"

"Highly doubt that!" Lincoln touched his head, hissing in pain. Not bleeding anymore, but it still ached. "Ugh..."

One of those civvies had taken him away, but I doubt he came to the cops and talked to them. As for them, they brought me here. The rest was easy to guess, but...

Arriving via the backdoor, one blue-haired scrawny punk, the junkie Bill Mausse had come to play. Good, good, the dumbfuck officers were distracted with the protesters just outside, a simple hit and run. Loaded Colt at hand, he of anger his way to the cells, meeting Lincoln for the first time. He stopped just outside the albino's cell and gave a nauseous smile, then lifted the handgun in between the bars. "Patty says goodbye!"

This must be Bill. What a bastard.

Bill's gripping hand shook terribly, forehead sweating tremendously.

"Oh, man, this nut is a tweaker!" Mike went.

"You gonna kill me, boy? Working on behalf of your grand majesty's orders?"

"D-d-damn right!" Mausse chuckled. "Now die!"

Lincoln never blinked in the face of death. For his failures, for all of that, the girl, the scar on his head, and everything- was thang? Was it all just pointless in the end? Did he think he lived enough of a life to be killed like a feral animal in a cage? "So it shall be..."

"No, brother! Fight for your life!" Mike pounded his meaty arms upon the bars. "FIGHT!"

Time Ago

Lincoln swung again, landing a bit against big sister Lori, in a time when big sister Lori wasn't so tall anymore. He punched her right in the gut, but what should Lori do but take grab and counter it, striking her own hand against his. He yelped, but the blonde woman didn't stop there. She, the certified adult, did a leg sweep that took her sixty tries to master, bringing down the giant of equal size.

"I had you-!"

"You literally didn't, twerp," she denied, shaking her head, hair swinging side to side. "You've got more to learn, and so do I."

"There's... So much to learn-" he complained to her. "These fights we have... And not one win."

"Psssshhh..." Lori crossed her arms and looked down on him. "Don't get all mopey just cause you had another loss. Somehow, you've been doing the same attacks in the same pattern. Mix it up a little, think outside the box, little brother."

"What- What's the point, I'll never beat-"

Lori raised a foot and had it kiss Lincoln, and then push his head back. "Don't be so dramatic, that's quitters talk! Haven't you been around Lynn long enough to know that it's intolerable? Back then, I wouldn't care, there was more to it than win or lose, but we're all here in a corner where it means something. Unless you're willing to die at the hands of your opponent!"

"Who said anything about-?"

"We're training so that we can defend ourselves when it comes to that! When it comes to facing someone in our way! You know what we're all about!"

"Lori-"

"You'll keep fighting me until you win, damn it! This isn't up for debate!"

Now

Yeah, yeah, I know that you were just trying to help me sis. I'm no quitter, but I could have never kept this up forever... No, I couldn't have, who was I really kidding here? As I am now, I'm powerless and back to square one, and now... It looks as if I'm gonna die now.

Bill Mausse put his finger on the trigger.

Sorry, Lori, but I couldn't even win this one simple fight without the boost. I guess I really wasn't all that strong to begin with. He closed his eyes, and a gunshot echoed the entire precinct, alerting the few officers just outside. Nothing happened. No sting upon his body as he expected. Maybe that was the trick, and he was already dead. He moved his arms and then, but slowly, opened his eyes. WHAT?!

Cannibal Girl, still very bloody and terribly wounded from the gunfire earlier before, had tackled the junkie right at the last second, throwing him off his feet. "No, you're not dying today! Not now, Jerry! Not-"

Poor Mausse was sent back forcefully into the wall behind, back striking the layer of cemented cinder blocks that never moved even an inch. He moaned in grave pain, sustaining an injury, gun having fallen out of his hands. The dangerous toy slid out spinning, stopping somewhere in between him and the girl.

"-YEEEEET!"

"H-hey-" Lincoln had snapped out of it. "Heather!"

"What was that, huh?!" Cannibal Girl was quick to berate the older man. "You just let yourself open like that!"

"I-" Lincoln fumbled verbally.

"You, nothing!" Heather met him in front of the cell, grabbed the bars tightly and tugged back, breaking away the gated door as easy as pie. She was still banged up as he had left her, even the eye that had been shot was still a dark red hole with blood seeping out like honey from a bee hive. She was some mutilated corpse from a nasty little brawl from a country currently locked in a civil war, still alive. The dead walk. "Come on, we're getting out of here!"

The second Lincoln stepped out, a stampede of footsteps echoed along the walls. A ton of people- not one, not two nor three- were running inside the building, a sample of Black Friday in Florida at work. The civilians of the formed mob just outside pushed past the few cops, having heard the single gunshot that shook the perimieter. They broke through the doors, shattering the glass; they were a stampede, a gang of rampant bison that trampled and laid waste to all they saw. They kicked down the stalls, they pushed aside the chairs and desks in their way. The monitors, the fax machines- everything crashed to the floor, devastated under the sea of feet.

Heather backed up to the wall and began punching it to break it down. She made a crater, but the timer had run out before. "Agh, what the hell?!"

Lincoln faced down upon five- no, more than that- of them with bats, large dragging chains, of various melee weapons- why, there was one angry farmer with a damn old pitchfork even. Lincoln turned it around and rushed to the only gun there was. Heather herself had stopped trying to make their escape. "They've got us..."

Someone thought to shoot off a pistol away at Lincoln, hitting the ground near his feet. It worked, stopped him right before he could arm himself. "STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"He's trying to kill that girl!" another citizen screamed among the crowd. "Fuck, you guys seeing that?! Look how messed up she is!"

Heather propped her mouth open, slowly beginning to shake her head. "What- No!"

"Hey girl!" the third man yelled out, "Move away from him! Come, come over here, girl!"

"Y-you miserable idiots..." Heather moved, only to stand in front of Lincoln, her arms risen up to form a T. "YOU MISERABLE IDIOTS, HE IS NOT THE ENEMY!"

"Girl-"

"What the fuck is going on?" Mike uttered under his breath.

"Step away from him, he is dangerous!" None of the crowders dared moved closer to subdue Lincoln until Heather had gotten clear out of the way. They saw for themselves how hurt she was, how bloody she had gotten in this tiny war between a lone killer and the power-hungry politician. You'd have never thought it could escalate to this magnitude. Not even when Dadetown had seen its last big even back in the late sixties, a time when Negroes were the topic of controversy. Post-Rosa Parks, close around the Detroit riots. Hard life for one, hard life for all. Right down to it, apart from how uncommon the circumstances where, maybe it was just a matter of time when the next one, this one, happened. Some sort of chaos here in town. Day one to most, but it had already started and no one really knew. Fast-moving shitshow. Lock your doors, shut your windows. Protect your valuables. Stores, susceptible to looting when they would go there. Not if, when. Which one would it be?

Heather maintained her defending of Lincoln. She had known what was the truth, she had seen for herself, experienced it when Nelson Wheete-Glass and Skip Bart used her as nothing more than their private sex doll, as Lincoln had come to find. "You've got it all wrong! He wasn't attacking me, he was saving me!"

"She's clearly still being manipulated by him!" a woman from the group believed. "That psycho pedophile doesn't deserve to live!"

Lincoln raised his hands in the air to give himself uo, there really was no way out of this. I'm not meant to win this little mud-sling of a fight... Damn it, girl, just step aside...

"P-pedo-" Heather took a step forward. "No, no, not him! Your sheriff was the one who touched me! That man Skip Bart did the same thing! The same one you all praise highly! Listen to me-"

"It's okay, girl!" the woman's voice soothed, "You can tell the truth, you're safe with us! We'll put you through to Child Services."

"I am! Listen, I'm telling you the truth-" In the heat of the moment, Heather remembered the footage, her taped confession that wasn't with them anymore. "Wait, there is evidence! There's a camera- Cam-Cam-" She didn't ever mess with technology enough to know all the words. "There is a confession, and the sheriff's house- He kept me in his basement, and inside-"

Lincoln planted his hands on her while the handgun among the mob still pointed at him. "Stand aside, Heather. It's okay."

"Huh?" Heather broke her angry stare from him, exchanging it for a surprised one to connect with his. "No, no, wait, what are you saying?!"

"It's over." He took his hands off of her and walked around her, arms going back up again. "Get out of here, live for once."

"What the hell are you t-talking about?"

He went on his knees.

"Jerry?! Jerry, you and I were supposed to go and knock Patrick Matthews down to size! For his role in this!" Heather grabbed him by his pants (shirtless Lincoln) to stop him. "You said we had a plan, that you had a plan! Just us against them, Jerry! Why- Why are you...?" She dropped to her knees. "Wht are you having a change of heart on me? Why now? Why... Why are..."

He could sense it, and he didn't even have to see it. He could hear it, heard it already, the voice on her when it mixed with pain. High-pitch broken squeaks. Her strain when she talked, her self cutoffs. If he focused hard enough, maybe he could have heard her heart taking injury, whether it beat or not.

"Why are you leaving me?" Heather huffed out, arms then planted on the ground. Her face dropped like a dog depraved of walks, the outside world. "You, of all people..."

There could have been two special, unorthodox spotlights on them to freeze them both into their own scene. Him, his back turned to her. She didn't know why, but it hurt her. She was enough of a human to feel that overbearing pain. He understood that sort of darkness she did, maybe it was different, but it was the same in the end. He understood her and now he was forfeiting his freedom, his part in this insane game. Jail time, prison, end of life.

"Don't turn your back on me!" Heather kept her eyes down. "You, all of you hurt me. All of you, you fill me with a sort of sadness. It's just the same thing over and over again. I- I should have known it was too good to be true.,

Lincoln merely sighed. "I am sorry, child, but there is no way I can win. I messed up countless times that it just-"

'QUIT YER YAPPING!"

"-seems like we're meant to lose."

"So that's it?" Heather could not accept it. "Matthews just walks away scot-free?!"

"I guess so..."

"You... You..." She turned her head up (he sensed it when the sound waves changed enough to notice) and saw him with her eyes, that of a stranger's. "You turn me into gloom. I... Am..."

Bill Mausse snapped out of his cold sleep and faced the horde of people. Lincoln and Heather had their backs turned to him, and he saw his fresh opportunity to make a quick go for the gun. He did so and he took aim. Heather gasped and turned to see Mausse (his breathing was almost labored) aim it down, and in a timed window, she found herself making a choice. I am gloom, I am just the epitome of it. I hate this life, I hate everything about it. Everyone just wants to use me as a murder tool or a sex doll. I'm more than that... Why can't they all see it? I'm more than that, I just want my own life... I just want to live for once. And I want to live with someone who can understand me... Just like you, Jerry.

If she lost him, it would have been all over. Back to square one, nothing and nobody. Empty. She put herself right in the line of fire to save him. Mausse went for a headshot and tried to kill him, and when the second gunshot rang out, it kept everyone frozen, but Lincoln jerked and turned around to see Heather falling face up on the cold floor. There was a bonus bullet hole made in her head, and for once she really looked lifeless as never been before. Her only working eye never went anywhere, her limbs twitched until they could no longer. Her soft red lips had never been closed again while he watched. A lifeless child trapped, condemned to trash, until today...

Were you really dead, Heather? You, who recovered from grave injuries that would have killed you under normal circumstances, an inhuman in nature? Wait- What are you doing?! Why, why are you-?! WAIT, WHY DID YOU-?

Mausse gasped, being slow enough to process what he had done. "D-damn it, stupid girl got in the way!"

"Y-You're a murderer..." Mike whispered into the silent crowd, judging Mausse. "You done killed that poor girl."

"Killed-?" He still has his gun to Lincoln, and aimed again. "It was supposed to be him!"

"Hey, that's the punk who deals that heroin on Creever and Larken," one said. "What's he doing here?"

"Hey you! Drop the gun, hands in the air!" The crowd found themselves appalled that Mausse had shot that little girl, and some even turned away, covering their eyes when it happened. It was a confusion at most. Confusion and tragedy. They had forgotten about Lincoln in that second and had their attention directed to Mausse. "Drop that gun-"

Lincoln tugged Heather into his arms, cradling her. "Hey, don't move again. You've gone through too much today..." It was high time that she had rested at long last. "Stay down, kid. You're done..."

Mausse found himself at the feet of a mob. Not as he expected, and caught by them in killing a girl. He complied shakily, setting his gun back down. "Fuck."

Lincoln closed her eye and mouth before he set her down.

"May the Good Lord welcome her into His arms," Mike prayed softly. "Amen."

The woman in the crowd had then started sobbing.

Wait, why are they acting like your dead? You're not- Y-you can't be dead... Lincoln waited for her to move, and he found himself to feel rather stupid among the crowd. No, this was a shot to the head, and humans were known to die with a headshot. Mess the brain up, malfunction to zero. Heather had a clean shot. You really are dead... Aren't you?

"There, don't shoot!" Bill Mausse stood there with his hands behind his head. "Shit..."

Lincoln got up, moved towards him.

"Hey, you!" the crowd's vocal started again, "what are you doing?! Down on your knees!"

I think... I think I know what I was supposed to do again...

"Are you listening?! You-"

Lincoln picked up the gun in front of Mausse. 'Oh, God, he's g-going to-"

I started this with one murder, of that David Khan scumbag. It won't end there, it never ends. This cycle of violence just changes its victims. That's all this is.

"GUN DOWN NOW OR WE WILL FIRE UPON YOU!"

He walked behind Mausse, pulled his head back by his blue hair, jamming the gun onto his neck. "DON'T BE STUPID! THIS MAN IS A SCUMBAG, A DASTARDLY WASTE OF OXYGEN AT MOST! THIS PIECE OF SHIT IS AFFILIATED WITH THE PEDOPHILIC RACIST OF A SHERIFF YOU KNOW AS WHEETE-GLASS! THEY'RE ALL FRIENDS, THEM, SKIP BART, PATRICK MATTHEWS- THEY'RE A GANG OF CRIMINALS WHO'VE UTILIZED MATTHEWS' INFLUENTIAL POWER AND TRICKED YOU TO THE PLACE YOU STAND! THE STEEL MILL, WHEETE-GLASS' BASEMENT, ASK AROUND THE RIGHT QUESTIONS!"

No one said a thing, but Lincoln jammed the barrel harder against Mausse's face. "TELL THEM THIS IS SO!"

"Aghhh!" Mausse grunted. "Okay, yes! Patrick did it! He was framing others for things they never did! J-John Remender is innocent, Pat fucked him over, stole his money! James Ramirez! Dale Jennings! Charlotte Clemmons! Too many names, too many people he bamboozled along his career!"

"Tell them about this recent one!" Lincoln demanded.

"Right, okay!" Mausse huffed. "Matthews set up Jerry here so that he could be killed by Skip but... It went wrong, he said you knew- Agh- You apparently knew they were gonna before it happened- This man escaped, but he killed his would-be killer, that's for sure. He got away, so Matthews called in the hit squad, two mercs. Bastard, you killed one, the Russian one-"

Officer Grill entered the scene at the convenient moment. "The body of the Russian John Doe is a mercenary working for Matthews?!" He cut through the crowd like glass and faced Mausse and Lincoln. "So then, it was you who killed him?"

Lincoln nodded. "Both mercs are dead, the other is that guy with his guts hung out."

"So that's what they both were..." Grill raised a hand out. "Okay, y-you can turn him over to us and make a statement." He turned to the crowd. "Listen people, I did not want to bring this out in the open under the idea that we were wrong, but during the investigation around the sheriff's place, me and the other officers found what appeared to be human remains bunched into a pile down on his basement. These were facts with baseless evidence until..."

"Your sheriff is a literal cannibal," Lincoln spilled. "He took himself petty thugs that hr figured no one would miss and he had them for dinner."

Officer Grill sighed, then nodded to confirm this was the case. It caused murmurs, a ruckus among the crowd. They couldn't believe it at first, but the officer had nothing to gain from these lies. "It is the truth, it pains me to be the one to tell you this here and now. We are still in the process of identifying the victims of this... Chain of incidents."

"Where is he?"

"Is the sheriff dead?"

"Did that Cruise man kill him?"

"That little girl was going to be next," Lincoln managed to spin. "Rescued her, but she wanted revenge. She was with me, told me about it all. How she was raped over and over again by then before Wheete-Glass would go and eat her."

"Good Lord..." Mike shivered.

"I can only ask of you to bury her, citizens of Dadetown. As for this thug here-" Lincoln meant to kill Mausse right on the spot.

"Wait, boy," Grill insisted. "There's no need to make an irrational move. I am an officer of the law, and I believe in it duly, body, mind and soul. You don't need to kill him, I can arrest him-"

"I will have it no other way," Lincoln denied. "He earned his death just by being next to that corrupt official."

"ARREST ME!" Mausse begged like a crying child. "DON'T LET HIM KILL ME!"

"Townsfolk, you've seen it for yourselves!" Lincoln addressed the mob. "You've seen him kill that girl! Her name was Heather, bet he didn't know that!"

"I was aiming for you!" Mausse shouted, weeping. "Pat wants you dead!"

"Of course he does, I'm that loose thread that's gotta be cut, right?" He turned back to them. "That makes it a few times the man deployed his dirty criminal connections to come kill me! I'm telling you this now, before you hear it from the news, before the big man himself can make up a lie to get himself out of this!"

Grill kept his hand up, but wasn't sure Lincoln would give up Mausse so easily.

"Don't forget about that woman, you piece of shit!" Lincoln hissed in Mausse's ear.

"Shit- Yeah, Jessica- Jessica Dawson is dirty, she's always been dirty! She tried to hit him, the Girl and the officer who took them- That was the one who died earlier- Officer Bail-"

"What...?" Grill's lower lip wiggled. "Bail is-?"

"Where is Dawson right now, cop?" Lincoln asked.

"D-don't you dare!" Grill yelled. "He and Dawson are matters of the law! Give him and and you can walk away! I understand that you may not have been the fiend here but you've killed some certain individuals, and that is enough for you to be indicted in the eyes of another authority! The Feds, maybe Homeland will get in on this because some mercs showed up."

"Hmmm..."

"I give you my word we well have Matthews and Officer Dawson investigated, and we might even get them-"

"Maybe, but I stopped believing in the law long ago," Lincoln admitted, and then pulled the trigger, blowing Mausse's brains out in one shot. He tossed the body to the side and dropped the gun as if nothing happened. "It's always been death's hand for me."

"Y-you..." Grill drew his gun out as Lincoln walked forward to the crowd. "Don't move."

"Get the hell out of my way, officer."

"On- On your-"

"SHOOT ME NOW LIKE AN ANIMAL OR GET THAT DAMN GUN OUT OF MY WAY!" Lincoln snapped, not having it. Not like this, not when enough people had laid their lives down and he hadn't just yet. Officer Grill's hands trembled while gripping his issued gun, he couldn't shoot a man in cold blood, even when the man had murdered another right in front of him. Mausse's corpse had formed a pool of blood on the floor, and the fresh smell of blood would soon fill the room. Lincoln moved past Grill, and the mob had then formed a single line to allow him through; they were all either scared or willing to let him go, they would never go up against such a person. Certainly not die to him. "I'm leaving this town, you're all crazy as you are blind. Had you not known the truth... Oh, and free that man in there, what wrong could he have done?"

"Free me...?" Mike mouthed, lips split apart.

Leaving it at that, Lincoln walked away from the precinct, only thinking of one place to go.

Chloe Binsley puffed a fresh tobacco cigarette to cope with today's internal issues; no Jerry Cruise- and when she puffed it, she forgot that little thing again and then worked to exhale the lung-cancer air back out again. "Fuck, why am I being stupid?"

Her, back on the porch again and feeling as empty as ever. She looked around the streets, where, at the very least, each half hour would not be empty. Passing cars. Kids walking about, and dog walkers too. No Jerry Cruise. The whole world could walk these streets and her man would not show. Her man? What, was Jerry now hers? Couldn't be right, he never approached her that way. Oh yes, they fucked in a three-star motel, that meant nothing. Perhaps Chloe was being a stupid fuck again, and her dreams of pure fantasy had dictated reality again. She might just have been insane to believe he'd come back. He, the murderer painted by the papers. He shot some dude who wanted to shoot James Chang, a close friend. That wasn't a murderer, it was a hero.

And then, it made sense. Jerry was the summabitch who shot up Rex Rick and his crew, she suspected he did just that if he had killed one person. She needed to know, she had to confirm. If it was so, she'd pull his pants down and shove his penis into her mouth. Well, she'd do anything he would ask of her. Anything. Come back, Mister Albino Man, my heart, it aches for you, she'd tell herself when no one else occupied her mind. She had killer news for him, as well.

Chloe put out the cigarette with her foot and just sighed upon the porch. She didn't expect to see him today- why would she? He hadn't been around- but he did. He finally did, and he was shirtless for some reason. Pants and shoes were there, but his tee wasn't. She was astonished and mesmerized. She stood up and then formed a wide smile. "Oh, my God! Jerry!"

He came to her like a moth to a flame, walking the sidewalk and then cutting through the lawn to the porch. He came to her and she jumped on him, her arms wrapping around his neck. They hugged to embrace each other, and she kept on him even when he smelled bad. Even with visible wounds. She didn't care just yet, she was damn glad he was alive and not behind bars. Then, she pulled her face from his shoulder and proceeded to miss him deeply. He returned the kiss to relieve her of whatever worry she had. They were full of life, and he wished he could recall how Ronnie Anne's own felt to know if they were this enthusiastic or not. After a minute, they broke it up.

"Come inside, Jerry," Chloe tugged on him. "I bet you're hungry."

"And in need of a shower," he added. "Where are the other three?"

"They're at work, it's just us. Come on, I'll cook you something yummy."

"That's appreciated..." He had come to say goodbye, however, not to stay and have the happy ending here. "Listen, I have to tell you something."

"Yeah? So do I, but that can wait-" Chloe led him inside and guided him to the kitchen. "Eggs and sausage? Maybe some veggie soup, or how about-?"

"I'm leaving town, Chloe..." Lincoln dropped.

"You, or we?" Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Mister Albino Man, don't you think you can yahtzee right off without me."

He only stared at her with that expression that basically told her he was going to.

"Oh..." Chloe frowned, looking down. "Y-You're really going to?"

"It wouldn't be safe for you if we were a duo," he tried to reason. "I've been bad news, Chloe. I'm sure you know this."

"Jerry..." Her lips spread apart, teeth snarling as if she were just about to fight him. "So then... It really was you, wasn't it? You were the one who wiped out Rex Rick and his gang, weren't you?"

"Maybe I was..." Lincoln admitted. "Maybe I was, Chloe."

"Y-You're- Then, in that case, you're my hero," Chloe leaned and grabbed one of his hands with both of hers. "I don't want this, I don't want you to go. I realized I have genuine feelings for you! D-do I have to spell it out for you? I'm in love with you, that's enough for any normal man to stick around! They'd slobber over the idea they have access to my body!"

"As you can see, I do not bode well with this normal..." Lincoln never retracted his hand. "Figured I might just stay the night and take off, that's my plan."

"J-just like that?" Chloe sighed. "I can't change your mind?"

"It was always gonna be this way," Lincoln said. "I think you know that. If you didn't-"

"Why- Why did you even bother with me if you knew you were just gonna-?"

Lincoln shot his eyes upward. It was a damn nice question that even he could not find an answer for. "I couldn't say, maybe I just needed a change of pace for a second."

"Jerry... Don't you want to grow old with someone? D-don't you want to have a relationship with someone like me?"

"I've never thought about it..." But he lied to himself and he knew it. "Actually, a better answer would be, I never expected to make it to old age."

I've come a long way. The Freights, the phenos of the future I'll face again. Some of my sisters I'll meet ad well- and I'm gonna fight them. So much I don't really understand. It's stuff out of comic books, but I've survived all of that somehow. This week I've been shot, I've been banged up and I've come here to Dadetown without powers. I would argue that I've been made inferior, but that's just it. I was never a god, I was never superior. I just had a boost from some chemical Vial Corporation made and Peter McMahon depowered me in Site Prime when he captured me. No, I've never been a god. I could be hurt, I could be killed. Down this line, the path of darkness and death, I'll wind up dead and the world will keep turning. I am not special, I just might have been full of ego all along.

Chloe, I wish I could take you with me, but I don't want to hurt you. I also don't want you to follow me to 2030, when I'll have a rematch with what I've dealt with before. Might be the same, might not be. I'll see for myself, I just have to. I wish I could explain it all, but sadly...

"I'm sorry," Lincoln apologized. "I... I do like you, but I can't do that."

"Well..." She sighed again. "At least you are honest with me. No lie to keep me pleased."

"I don't bullshit anyone, but my truth isn't what everyone wants to hear."

"I'm gonna be honest as well..." She now took both of his hands. "Jerry, I'm... I'm pregnant."

His heart did a somersault. "Y-You're-"

"And don't second guess it, it isn't anyone else's... It's yours, Jerry, it's your child."

WHAT THE FUCK?! "You're lying-"

"No," she denied fiercely. "I took the test, it's a positive- and I only took it after I started feeling strangely queasy. I knew what it was, Jerry. I'm having your child... And you don't even want to stick around. I'm not pro-abortion so I'm gonna give it up."

"Oh..." Lincoln broke away from her hands. "I... I can't believe this."

"Neither can I, this would be my first baby, you know!"

Lincoln snorted through his nose. "An actual baby..."

"You've got all day to reconsider, Jerry," Chloe grinned. "For once in my life, I think I could say I'm ready to settle down. At least, I can with you."

"I'll take that veggie stew now..."

"Nice!" Chloe suddenly went white and took her exit. "Sorry, I'll be right back!"

What a weird girl... Cute but strange... Lincoln stayed in the kitchen, opened the fridge for a drink. In the living room, Patrick Matthews was patiently seated on the couch, and Jessica Dawson, clad in a pink top and gray jeans, took Chloe as her hostage, kitchen knife right on her neck. The two women came back to the kitchen, and Chloe intentionally called on Lincoln for his attention. "Jerry!"

He turned and grew white in the same color tone as his hair. "Hey!" He closed the fridge and dropped the Pepsi can in his hand, glaring angrily at Dawson. "Hey, you let her go!"

"Oh, we can only do that when you learn a very special lesson!" Matthews cut in from out of view.

"That you, Matthews?" Lincoln's blood boiled from the inside at the sound of his voice.

"You killed my friends, Jerry," Matthews seethed. "And you've laid waste to my reputation. Threw it away like trash, and you've even burned my place down."

"You're a crook, you've had it coming!"

"Suuuuure," Matthews replied childishly. "You ever hear the old saying, an eye for an eye?"

Lincoln wished he had a gun on him right about now. Who could have predicted these two to come here? "I have."

"Then you know what we're about... Jessica, you have the honors?"

"WAIT!" Lincoln begged.

Chloe shed for herself a tear before Jessica ran the knife across, slitting the Binsley girl's throat as fast as she drew breath. A straight red line formed, and blood drooled out, going downwards in multiple, uneven lines. Chloe gasped and choked, trying to breath and stay alive. She gripped her neck but she had become weak and fell on her knees. Dawson dropped the knife, letting it clank on the floor. She drew her pistol tucked behind her pink shirt and aimed it at him. "Don't move until we're gone. You can have your life and we'll have ours- Or whatever is left for the three of us..."

Matthews hurried out the door first. "Brought this on yourself, Jerry! You brought me down, so I take something of yours! I bid you farewell now!"

Jessica Dawson kept her gun at hip level, still aimed at Lincoln as she backed away to the front. "Have a good rest of your life, dirtbag."

"No... Cowards..." Lincoln rushed to Chloe when they both disappeared from view. "Hey, Chloe-"

She had stopped moving by then, when he went down on his knees to pick her up. She was just as lifeless as Heather was. No twinkle in either corner of her eyes. No movement in her limbs. Chloe... Chloe Binsley was dead as dead could ever be.

"Chlor?" His blue eyes watered up, he couldn't believe it when it was right there in front of him. "C-Chloe, no!"

And all the sadness in the world was felt by him in these long few minutes. Chloe was already dead, and nothing he could do could ever change that.

But... He could avenge her. And now there was reason to; Patrick Matthews had rolled out the carpet to the personal lands. I'm going to hunt you now. No more stupidity... I'll find you. I'll find you and I'll hurt you where it hurts.

AN: One more chapter to go before we start off the new act. Probably a short chapter, too. Epilogue-ish and not really.