~oOo~

Up above with a glass in hand...

Seoul, South Korea...

SkyLove Tower Restaurant...

2027...

The view was well payed for. Up above, hundreds upon hundreds of feet from earth, people in lavish clothing sat and dined away, speaking to the other in Korean, going about their evening in style. Slowly the circular designed restaurant revolved clockwise, and ever so subtly an unaware person wouldn't even notice that one moment they were facing a vast open space and next large towers of downtown.

The simple things, well simple you had money to burn.

The skyline of the impressive city that is Seoul. South Korea's capital, one of many gems of the world. Though filled with scars like all the others from the pandemic and riots that took place a little over two decades ago. Though that time is over the memories still remain clear as day to those who witnessed it first hand. The same couldn't be said for their northern neighbors as they faced a fate worse than death.

A pretty face trying to cover the ugly from before. Or that's how Marcus saw it. He really didn't care much as he used to back in the day. Nothing one can do but sit and drink away, like he was right now. But unlike others he wasn't alone, and he wasn't drunk off his ass either.

No.

The Australian on the other hand. Oliver Fetch gasped after taking a straight shot of liquor, slamming his glass down with force that it rattled the table a bit. Uncaring at the stares he was obtaining from his actions. Red tinted his cheeks but he was far from close to drunk, tipsy? Yeah, but it takes more to take down someone like Ollie, as Marcus and a few others in their "family" like to call him. Even then, most would order a drink from the country they're visiting out of respect or something along those lines, but Oliver was the type of man who preferred what he knew.

"Your a mean focka' ya know that?" Oliver said, finger pointed at the raven haired older man, sipping from his glass. Leaning back against his seat the chocolate haired Aussie gave his companion an amused stare, his smile highlighting a few of his scars that coiled around his lips.

Marcus clicked his tongue, a raspy chuckle left him. Wiping a hand across his equally dark beard from any crumbs of his meal, he shrugged. "Hey, he was going to confront them eventually. I just...sped up the process by a few good days or so. I mean, come on the kid is bad at this shit."

"Yeah, but from a bitch like her?" Oliver brought out his tablet from the side of the table, turned it on and typed a quick few keys. Planting it front of Marcus, who was met with a picture of blonde haired woman leaning on a sign, arms crossed, and a eye that means business. The words 'Lori Loud Sells' in gold along with a phone number and email address of her work.

Marcus scoffed. "She ain't that bad, Ollie."

The Aussie rolled his eyes, even he knew Marcus wasn't so sure on that from the quick twitch of his nose. The little things one picks up from a long friendship and cooperation like theirs. "Ya heard the stories from, Linc."

That he did. Ten sisters? Jesus, Mohammad, Buddha, Moses-whoever. It can be Zeus for all he cares, bless that white haired bastards soul. Actually bless that woman who went through it...WILLINGLY!

But really help snow tops boy instead. Deep inside Marcus and Oliver hoped all is going well for Logan more than his parents, even though they care for them the same, their minds was on the child.

"Unfortunately," Marcus said. He took a sip from his glass, the liquor doing the trick in its numbing, keeping him warm and full. "Not all of it was bad. I mean she had good intentions. Could've been worse."

Oliver rose a brow, leaning forward some. "Driving god knows past the speed limit from college in some other city just to tear him a new one just cause her ship didn't sail? I mean, yeah I get that Linc focked up big time, still though." He shook his head. "Don't know either to be impressed by her commitment or disturbed."

"It's like you said: he fucked up. With my favorite niece of all people, actually feel kinda bad for that other girl." Marcus blinked, trying to remember part of the story Lincoln told them that led to the series of events of Logan's eventual birth in the world. "What was her name? Ron something?"

The Aussie shrugged. "Eh' I think 'er last name was Santiago, some Mexican sheila or some shite." He raised both hands in a lazy wave. "Look, I know I didn't like what he did to that Ron Santi-whateva', but still."

"Heh' I smell hypocritic shit just steaming off you." Marcus waggled his eyebrows with a snarky grin. "You fooled around-still do-with a lot of girls willing to spread for you."

"Yeah but I never was in any relationship with another though while jumpin' it. Am I right?"

Marcus nodded. "Unfortunately." He gazed out towards the windows, eyes following the slow spin of the whole restaurant. "Nearly decked the poor kid if I remember."

"Yeah, well, I'm just saying." Marcus didn't see the scowl that formed on his friends face but he knew one was there. "But I swear, Marc if she or any one of those sisters of his even fockin' think of hurtin' that pup I swear I'm-"

"You're not the only one that cares about him ya know." Cutting Oliver off, Marcus turned his face back to the Aussie man, giving him a stare. "He's my nephew too, by blood dammit."

Oliver winced. Marcus stopped himself, realizing what his words at meant. The old man sighed.

"He's our nephew too."

He knew Oliver had the right to see and call Logan as that. He loved the boy and vice versa.

The waitress came over, and in semi-perfect English asked if they wanted anything else as she took their plates. Oliver shook his glass, the universal sign for more, Marcus shook his head. With a nod, the Korean woman took Oliver's glass to be refilled and left them at that.

The two men returned to a peaceful silence, enjoying their time off. Marc returned to enjoying the view. A top restaurant with top drinks and top view the reviews said, so why not? Nothing better to do than have a meal and a drink with a friend.

They may have been around the world but they never get to truly see it. Strange ain't it? But the life of a private contractor can be demanding: priorities of the mission, and in this modern world it almost always ends in getting shot at. Though Marcus no longer acts on the field, age catches everyone after all, he still gets to play a role. Overseeing missions and conducting his own operations for the good of the company, or for the main top gal and head of the whole PMC and all their other businesses Jasmine Note, or for himself and his team wanting to get a quick buck. Being a higher up of Melody has its perks...and disadvantages.

He internally shivered. Paperwork...evil.

His dark brown eyes caught the sight of a flock of birds flying in tandem across the large city, completely unaware of the humans below them as they go about their lives the best they can. Swirling his glass as Oliver reach for his from the waitress. Small things.

"Hmph..." Oliver's green eyes scanned across his lap, left hand on his drink and right down below.

"Anything new, or..." Eyebrow raised with a shit eating grin forming. "Cause playing with your dick in public is considered rude and fucked up."

Ollie smiled.

Marcus leaned back against his seat, glass raised. "Don't know if that's how ya'll treat each other in Kangaroo land, but—"

"Shut the fock up you white bastard." Oliver bit back.

"Your white too, dumbass."

"Yeah, but I ain't 'that' white. I mean, Jesus, get some sun." Oliver's voice broke as he laughed, Marcus joining him on the fun.

Yeah...the small things.

Oliver continued fiddling with his tablet underneath before bringing it up on the table, a variety of square images and videos played in silent as he was busy reading over a column from CNN.

"Anything new?"

He shook his head. "Define new. Ruskies are still killin' each other, Anarchists are being Anarchists, LC is growin' and Manchester is still front paged...Oh! And some celebrity just came out the closet or somethin'. He shrugged, closing his tablet and sliding it away from him. "Ah, yeah, somethin' else on his sista'—two of 'em. The...fock...ahhh..." Snapping his fingers, trying to find the name. "The singer."

"Luna?"

"Yeah! That one."

"What about?" Nothing to do but gossip they suppose.

"Not much." Ollie began to rap his knuckles against the mahogany table. "Finished her tour of Europe, said she gonna be visiting her home town."

Well fuck. This is going to be interesting. A grin morphed on Marcus's face.

"And the other one?"

"Yeah, the designer one."

Marcus is amazed he knows their names, a bit disappointed, but amazed he cared enough to remember. "Leni."

Ollie nodded. "Mmm~ Turns out she's gonna do a runway fundraiser back in Royal."

Marc nodded, before he noticed his friends mouth curl into a frown. The Aussie sighed, taking another needed swig.

"Dammit! Can't help but worry over the little pup, ya know?"

That he did. The day he set his eyes on Logan the day he was born was also the day where he silently promised alongside Lincoln and his niece to always protect that child.

"He's going to be fine. 'Sides he got Linc and Harriet."

Ollie snickered. "Ya know if she heard ya call 'er that in public—"

"Oh god I know." The older man shook his head from imagining the dark, annoyed stare from his favorite niece. "She used to promise to curse me with the haunting of some demon, and I bought her the damn books filled with those," He lifted both hands and made quotations with his hands. "Spells." He shook his head. "Don't get why she doesn't like people calling her by her real name. Well Linc's an exception, being her husband and all that."

"Heh'...yeah. Got to admit Haiku does sound cooler. Can't imagine what the kid is going through, though. Or will...gonna be a lot for the pup to take in."

"All we can do is wait and see I guess."

"And I hate that."

"Imagine Emiko."

"GOD!" The Aussie broke into a fit of laughter. "Or fockin' Isabell?"

Marcus joined him from imagining Lo's honorary aunts on his well being. One a Japanese and other a German that will bring the wrath of hell if anything bad was to happen to their 'nephew'. Well, second to Haiku. No one messes with the dark queens little grey prince.

But all good things must come to an end. Oliver sobered up...some, but it was enough for the seriousness to make its way in. He didn't want to bring in work when they didn't have any work to do right now, but it was on his mind. And knowing Lincoln, it's on his too.

"Speakin' of Manchester."

Marcus saw where this was now heading, he took a gulp of his drink, the glass now empty he placed it back on the table. "Now's not the damn time."

Oliver sighed. "I know, but still its a goddamn mess out there." He pulled his tablet back and began tapping on saved websites and articles. Burning videos of streets filled with blood and smoke filled the screen along with the rapid questions and demands of the public from the attack by Lost Cause.

"It's always been a mess, Ollie. I don't need to be reminded that our world is being held in place with a string keeping us from hell...well total hell I mean."

"It's always been teetering, Marc. But I'm really asking 'cause Linc is gonna be bugging me for info on it, ya know how he gets on this type of shite."

That he and anyone in the team knows well, even the top dog Ms. Note herself.

Oliver continued, playing with his napkin by tearing it apart and rolling tiny balls, playing basketball with his glass as the hoop. "I mean we already know a name and got a face." He blinked. "Jal, was it?"

"Close. His name is Joul, Zachary Joul." Marcus clarified. "Thought ya read the whole file I sent all of you."

The Aussie waved a hand, missing his target as the paper ball kissed the expensive tiled floor. "Skimmed it enough. Got the gist of it anyway: some Brit-probably an Ani from the way it was worded."

Ani, Marcus is getting too old for this shit. Some abbreviation for Anarchist someone started and soon grew to become standard way to label them. Back in the day, before the Pox, fighting the system and calling yourself an Anarchist really got you nothing more than a shake of heads or people laughing at you, screaming all sorts of profanities when the police get their hands, or batons, on you. Now it's different. No one wants to be called an Ani as it means your a terrorist, a threat. Just another puppet controlled by Lost Cause. Their toy soldiers.

"Your close." He really didn't want to discuss work of all things now, but they're deep in it now so. "Found out he's a Gunrunner: supplies a few Ani groups back in the states, UK, even Japan, and blah-blah-blah-blabbity-blee-blu-blu and all other shit like that." He sighed. "Course doesn't mean his hands are clean." Remembering the file also came with pictures of dead people. Ranging from quick shots to the head, sliced necks, to a whole heap of gruesome endings to many lives. Couple videos of torture here and there too. Nothing new, Marcus gave it an overall two stars: no ones original anymore.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, saw that one with the dogs. Poor bastard howled louder than the mutts." Oliver gave it two and a half, reason being the audio wasn't shoddy and the video wasn't shaky. "Anyway, I don't know all my countries well, but most if not all I heard was Spanish-Spanish-and squeaky Spanish, sides the Brit. Sooo~"

"Cartels?" The older man asked.

Aussie leaned back. "Am I right?"

"Heh' missed bullseye a couple centimeters but yeah you're pretty much hitting it. Central America, don't know which country or LZ, hell it could be an Insurgent Zone for all we know. But we do know he's a hundred percent part of Lost, makes his cash from drug peddling across the Americas which he uses to buy his guns and," He clapped his hands, "Rinse and repeat. Could be an Ani, or just some guy looking for quick bucks and not caring who he does it for, let alone who he hurts."

People like that are everywhere. Lost Cause has under-the-table investors, backers, etc. Money is key to any war, and to any organization. Everyone wants some.

Zachary is one of them. In a day and age like this one must simply trace the bullet back to the source...and there were a lot of bullets during the attack on Manchester.

Oliver blew a raspberry. "Cartels," he mocked. "Lost got all of 'em by the balls. Sad thing a lot of them still think they're still in charge." A sardonic chuckle escaped him. "Just a bunch of coked fueled puppets on a leash...string...whateva"

For about anyone knows or cares, LC practically rules it all. By 2017 it was discovered they had control of about eighty-percent of the drug trafficking trade of Latin America. How? They waged war on the families, organizations, and all others. Course it was waved off and they were seen as a joke by the cartles...till bodies were being dropped left and right. High members found dead along with their families in events, beds, even on their dining room table, faces pressed on top of still warm food. Heirs, didn't care if the kid was just that, a child, a teen or a baby in the crib or still in their mothers womb. Still died the same.

They may still run things the way they want now, but a good slice of their profits go to LC. Money and manpower.

Marcus and Oliver remembered how the US reenacted their whole war on drugs again a few years back. They especially remember that car that went 'boom' on the border in Mexico.

Its just how the world is now.

Rolling his neck, trying to get the cricks out of there. "That answer your question?" He asked.

Oliver flashed a small smile. "Linc's actually, I'll send 'em it later. You know how he is." He sighed. "Can slice a mans throat, pull the trigger without thinking twice, and break a bastards skull in several ways, but when the civilians get caught in a mission he..."

"Yeah...yeah I know. Thought we took care of that."

"He has a good heart."

Marcus nodded. "He needs to leave that behind when it comes to assignments. I don't like anyone who's a civvie getting caught-especially children, but people die." Stone coldness filled his eyes, an expression built by a man who played this game too long. "We're Contractors Ollie, not saviors."

Oliver scoffed, hands folding together. "Yet when some place in the world is hit who's the first ones to respond?"

He hiked a thumb at himself. "Us." He raised a hand and counted fingers. "Hong Kong, New York, Singapore, Kyoto, Yemen-things fockin' changed." He chuckled, resting his chin on his palm. "I remember when people saw us as just paid killers-which we still are, and only caring about profit which is also true. But when Jazzie took over from her pop it's like the world expects us to do something. Guess it makes sense...seeing how a lot of the world militaries are still nowhere as strong as they were before Pox. Still though...heh."

Marcus blew some air. "I know what you mean. Still trouble...and paperwork, fuck." He glared playfully when the Aussie laughed at his misfortune. "Really lets not worry on that right now."

Oliver agreed, deciding to drop it...but then picked something else up.

"Soooo~ anything new on Lydia Corp? Or-"

Marcus pointed a 'shut the hell up' finger at his friend, eyes darkening even more. "You don't start on that."

Oliver raised both hands in a surrender fashion. "Ok! Ok! Shite, mate I'm just askin'.

The black haired man rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He had enough headaches already.

~oOo~

Only the beginning...

Royal Woods, Michigan...

New Loud House...

Master bedroom...

There are times in every mans life where he desperately needs a drink, and for Lincoln he wants to drown 'till his liver commits suicide so he can die numb. So much emotion and so many tears and hell and...god it was only one day-no! Not even. Now his plate was full to the point it was starting to crack.

He groaned as he fell backwards on the king sized bed, hands grabbing and feeling the soft dark purple silk covers on his fingers, relaxing him some...some. His mind was mess, a jumbled zoo of destruction as he tried to find a way to tackle this. Yet seeing how his so called plan went, he wasn't even expecting he was going to see any of his sisters yet, well yes seeing how they are next door, but still...he planned it out for his mother, but

'Christ.' One way or another he was going to pay Marcus back for this. 'Surprise my ass.'

Hands on his face, he rubbed his eyes, feeling the sensation of water wanting to fall down his cheeks. To see his mother, the very woman who brought him to this world. The very woman who held his hand through the bad times when he was no older than Logan in such a state like that...it fucked with him. Bad. Just the mere thought that he caused her that pain made him feel shitty. No matter how hard they held the other and exchanged their 'I love you's' it still didn't help with that pit in his gut, let alone that chocking sensation in his throat.

'Fuck...Logan.' He nearly forgot about his boy. All this is obviously taking its toll on the kid. How can it not? Now the questions...the god damn questions his son has bottled up, ready to explode. He wonders where does he even begin, where does he even think of starting to tackle this.

His fingers coiled and gripped his white strands, yanking them upwards in frustration. 'Man with the plan? Huh' give me a break.'

That is a problem with him. He thinks he has to be the one to tackle all of this alone, but he forgot one important thing.

A soft hum, so silent one can't make of it, but he can. A sound he knows well. Well enough it made him stop his hair pulling, and bring a hand away from his face so he could look up and see his wife standing at the end of their room, her eyes analyzing each and every little detail, looking to see it met the specifications. Her song was enchanting to him, enough for Lincoln to forget the bad of today, to not think of the drain.

That important thing? He wasn't alone.

He smacked a hand on his forehead, a small smile pulled his lips. They're in this together, always had been and always will. No matter how it goes, even if they have to go back to Dallas, he'll have her by his side, and their son. Always.

Lincoln turned his head over to the side, there he met the eyes of his reflection displayed from the large double mirrored doors of their closet. He gazed and drunk Haiku's form, from every inch by inch of her curves, from her rear, to her back, breasts, and to the soft black hair begging to be caressed. His hand twitched. God he missed her touch. The Loud male also saw himself...saw how pathetic he laid there.

It was now or never. He sighed, this was happening, they made their choice, got to push through.

"You know, sighing isn't really your thing, my love." Haiku said, turning around she walked over gracefully to their new bed, making sure to side step the various boxes marked with black marker that littered the floor.

Her husband nodded as he chuckled. "Yeah, guess I got to leave it you then, huh? I mean, being the," He waved his hands in emphasis, "The Grand Queen of Melodrama!" He cheered. "And I vant to suck your blud! Bluh-bluh-bluh!" He laughed at himself from his failed attempt at a bastardized Dracula accent.

Haiku rolled her eyes, she graced him with a rare smile as she sat on the bed, by her husband. Lincoln looked over at her thighs, lifting himself up some he scooted over and laid his head back down on her lap, relaxing as he breathed in relief. She played with strands of his hair and felt his rough jaw. Suddenly then flicking his still red cheek where Lori smacked part of the life out him.

He winced, rubbing the still sore area while lifting a hand in surrender. "Alright, sheesh woman."

She tilted her head with the smile still present, closing her one visible eye. "You can be quite an ass love, so punishment is needed."

A chesire grin on his face. "What? Bluh-Bluh-Bluh-AH!" Sonava bitch he forgot how hard his sister can slap someone, now he has a clear idea of the pain a lot of men have gone through back in the day when they got too close for comfort to the phone-a-holic, or any of his sisters...well mainly Leni if not all the reasons for Lori smacking the soul out of people.

His wife peered down at him with a thin line smile, hand held up in flicking prepared motion. "Want to go again? Round three?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, pointing up with an accusatory finger. "You're abusive."

Her dark brown rolled again, leaning downwards and he propping himself up so their lips can meet. She hummed in pleasure as he deepened the wet lip lock action, caressing her soft face. The need for air became the bastard that ended it. Panting slightly he rested his head back on her thighs. Nuzzling deeper on his 'pillow'.

"Forgiven," he said. "For now." He winked while she shook her head.

It was just them and them alone, no worries at the moment, Logan was keeping himself busy with exploring his new room so they took the time to just do nothing but enjoy each others company. Yet all good things must end, they were just stalling, but more so Lincoln. She couldn't blame him, even she was dreading of confronting her parents and...sister. Blinking, Haiku wonders at times how Maggie is doing, maybe she changed...well some she expects, but maybe she didn't. Never was close in the first place, it was living with a stranger most if not all the time, just someone you bump into at times that lives just two doors away from you. There was a time she wanted some form of kinship with her older sister but that little candle died a long time ago. She knew even then that Logan deserves to at least meet his other aunt.

But that was just her sister. Her parents are a different story all on its own.

This is growing to be quite a pain...a cancerous growing pain.

Well she only has one sister while her husband has ten, that poor woman. One she found malice towards from blowing up, slapping him, and startling her little one, though she was at least glad, in her own way, to know that one, course it has to be the...she tried finding the right word...ditzy one? Whatever. At least Leni took the effort. She found the way her son and his aunt held the other to be rather cute and heartwarming but she did not enjoy the hug she received from the bubbly famous fashion designer. Shivering internally Haiku was glad that was over.

For now. Unfortunately.

Reality had to catch up to them eventually, and as much as she enjoyed each other's company, she, and him, especially him, knew they couldn't ignore the elephant in the room for any longer.

And it was Lincoln who broke the silence with a groan.

"That could've gone better, I mean it could've been worse...always can."

Always the optimistic. Even then he knew this was growing to be a clusterfuck.

Haiku hummed. "So you expected to get hit?"

He shrugged. "I mean this is my side of the family we're talking about. Physical pain is just part of the chemistry that made up the Louds." He chuckled from the memories with a shake of his head, but his wife was not finding the humor. He winced from the stare she gave him. "Look I know...fuck, Hai please just let it go."

Her eyes narrowed. "I for one don't find enjoyment watching my husband getting the soul smacked out of him." He cringed from her tone feeling the creeping darkness of promise of 'rewarding' her sister-in-law.

"Fine, but come on it was expected at least one of them would've done it." He tried explaining. "I kinda expected Lola, heh" Lincoln learned quick that joking about himself is not helping him at all right now. He sighed, bringing his hands up to grab hers, holding them close with a rub of his thumbs on her knuckles. "Love...I fucked up bad with them. No. We both did. This is just gonna happen and we can't stop it." His eyes softened and so did hers, letting go of one of her hands so he can rub his face. "I just hate it that Lo' had to see that."

So did she. The mother inside her especially, though she allows him watch all sorts of horror movies, hell she'll even sit and watch him when she has time, even then she didn't want to expose him to the clear ugly of reality. Which is funny on itself with the job his father does and the likes and hobbies stemming from her own upbringings. Haiku knows her little bat is smarter than he looks and let alone most kids his age, but he's still a child, he has yet to know how painful reality is.

She suddenly felt his hand on her cheek. A smile on his face. "Ya know, I planned this out way better." He laughed out loud from that. Even she couldn't help but go along with him. "Man with the fuckin' plan my ass." He moaned, still chuckling between words.

Once sobered, Haiku nodded her head and blew a hot breath, a few strands of her hair moved. "Fine. I'll let it go." She raised a finger, giving him her stare. "Once. Just this once."

He nodded too. "That's all I ask for."

Suddenly a thought came to him. Knowing how his sisters function...to an extent. When he thought of Lola being the one to strike him, he, without any thought, was struck with the image of her kicking him between the legs. He cringed internally. Along with that is the sudden thought of Lynn and her fist against his face, or gut, or balls. But she was the type of fighter to never go below the belt...so he tells himself. He can take pain obviously, his job demands that, the scars on his body and his right prosthetic leg basically shows that. Still he doesn't like getting hit.

'Great, just what I needed now. Fuck you brain.' He mentally cursed.

Lincoln's eyes wandered, stopping at his wife, more exactly the view her breasts gave him. Staring solely at the pair with her not paying attention. With all the growing stress of work, the planning, and today relief was what he really needed. Besides, its been a bit since the two of them fooled around. Bringing a hand up he cupped her right breast, causing her to jump from the sudden movement.

She looked down at him, pink dusting her pale cheeks. "Love, what are y-" She moaned when he squeezed, bringing his other hand to grip her other one, fondling the bountiful pair to his hearts content, a hungry grin on his face. She was always so sensitive there, years of exploring the other proved handy as he knew all her weak spots.

Haiku suddenly shrieked in laughter when he let go and gripped her body, pulling her down to him as he flipped her over, leaving her sprawled beneath him, his hands pinning her arms. A breathy smile on her beautiful face only made him hungrier, mashing his lips with her their tongues slipped in the other and battled for dominance. They once more damned air because they needed it. Panting, red faced, her legs spread open while his member hardened within the confines of his jeans, pushing and wanting to break free. Lincoln proceeded to rub her thighs, fingers brushing against the edges of her dress, she shivered from his touch. His grin grew and grew as he pulled the fabric up, inch by inch his prize was near.

But.

"Mama!"

Their sons voice echoed through the house, muffled but heard. The couple paused, frozen, miffed and horney.

Lincoln lowered his head, sighing. "Fuck." He cursed.

Haiku, also disappointed, smiled apologetically, rubbing a hand across his arm. "Duty calls." She said.

He nodded his head before shaking it with a chuckle of amusement. "Yeeaaaaaaaah~" He sighed. "Unfortunately. Lets go see what the kid wants."

She nodded. They shared another kiss, this one quicker. Getting off his wife, she walking out the door, Lincoln followed.

This better be good.

~oOo~

A mothers worn heart...

Loud House...

Living Room...

Leni held mother's aging hands close to her, rubbing soft circles of soothing love to the still softly sniffling older woman. Even if she herself was crying still after all this time, she had to be there for her mother.

Together their hearts hurt, but Rita's the most. All these surprises in just a day and she has still to even process it, pulling gently her hands from her daughters grasp she wiped her eyes, smeared slightly with now wasted mascara the mother of many, and now grandmother...she never thought the day would come. Praying was all she had left and then she knew it would get her nowhere. Her mind wanders in thinking that God is deaf, having other things to worry about than her family.

But it came.

Logan...Logan.

"Logan." She softly whispered, even with the ache of her breaking heart a soft warmth flooded her. The mere thought of that little boy, he looks so much like his father...like her son. It was enough to bring a smile to her face, breathing hitched, Rita picked up her phone from her left of the couch, pressing the home button twice she immediately went to photos, and right there, right damn there was her grandson. Awkward, shy, but oh so wonderful in her eyes. The one thing in her life she wanted to meet and see, but that damn day where it all went wrong. Regret filled many but so did anger towards their own that left.

Heh' she chuckled. "I always thought it was going to be a girl." Rubbing her thumb on the boy's picture.

Leni smiled wide, her eyes full of life. "I knew it." Leaning against her mom, the fashion designer stared at the phone, admiring her nephew. "I was right." She and Lily were the only ones to agree on that their brother's unborn child was going to be a boy, the others that cared enough were all standing that it would've been a girl. 'Loud Luck' Lori called it.

Speaking of Lori. Rita was confused.

Turning to look at her daughter. "Leni, dear, where's Lori?" She asked. "Wasn't she there?" Rita raised a brow when she saw how her second born fidgeted from her question. "Leni?" She refused to stare, but her mother pressed her harder. Hand on her thigh, Rita leaned forward some. "Sweetheart, please what happened."

The world-renowned fashion designer nodded her head, sucking in much needed air she told her mother everything. How she was excited to see Lori again and wanted to spend time with her even if she was in the middle of work, there was only so much free time Leni can get, especially visits. To how it all went down from the sudden sight of an Mustang, Linky, Logan, and his wife. All of it.

Then...what Lori did.

Rita sat stunned. "She did what?!" Raising her hands dramatically. "Are you serious, Leni?"

Leni nodded. "She did...she just slapped Linky. Hard, like really hard...it was scary." Leni slightly teared up with a downcast stare when she remembered how Lori turned on and told her to shut up.

Rita covered her face with her hands. "Dammit," She muttered.

Leni tried defending her sister, like she always has done for so long now. "Sh-she didn't mean it mom. She was just angry and-and-and..." Her words died, unable to come up with anything now. She knew best it was dumb to even try and justify Lori's actions. She's scared now this will happen with her other sisters; she didn't want that. That thought will plague her for a time.

Rita shook her head against her palms. "That still doesn't justify her actions, Leni." Removing her hands, she sat up. "She's a grown woman, not a child."

As Leni opened her mouth to respond, both women were startled from the ear numbing screeching of tires against the pavement. The frantic slamming of a door and the yelps of a certain man trying and failing at his footing.

Both females' eyes widened.

Before they knew it the door slammed open, smacking hard against the already cracked wall, a few photos shook off and fell with glass shattering, but that wasn't important.

"Lynn!" Rita shouted.

Standing there was an aging man, bald at the top but not entirely without hair, panting tiredly, a mad look in his green eyes. White stained apron wrapped around his body, doubling over for air, cursing at his age and body, the Loud patriarch looked up, staring at his wife of so many years he asked one question.

"Where is he?!"

~oOo~

Back with the family of three...

Garage...

"Midnight?" Lincoln questioned out loud. Standing inside the illuminated, somewhat dusty, but empty garage. Empty save for the motorcycle parked in front of the small family. The father tilting his head a bit surprised to see the black and purple streaked bike there, Logan held his mother's hand and jumped with excitement, all the while his wife nodded her head with a happy expression (her version that is) on her face. Walking over to the bike with her son in tow the woman leaned over and felt the bike, the sleek curves, handle and finally seat before her eyes halted on the equally night sky black and dark purple outlined helmet. Lifting it up, trailing a slender finger through each and every scratch and mark that marred the visor, even the stickers of skulls, bats, and heavy metal bands that stuck and overlapped the other.

Midnight Strife. Other words, Haiku's bike.

The question he has is how it got here, but he probably knew that was a stupid question, and he was right. While Haiku examined her helmet, turning it over a white piece of folded paper fell out the inside.

Blinking, Lincoln bent over and picked it up. Opening it he read what was written.

"Dear, lovely niece, favourite nephew, and..." he frowned, with a heavy sigh. "DUMBASS." In all caps.

Logan pointed a finger at his father, laughing. "Ha!"

Lincoln absentmindedly flicked his boy against his forehead, causing the child to yelp.

Rubbing his forehead Logan pouted at his father. "Jerk."

"Pain." Lincoln retorted. The two Loud males stared the other down...until their lips curled upwards and both exploded in a fit of laughter. Lincoln ruffled his son's grey locks, patting him some as the boy continued to giggle. Haiku just shook her head with a roll of the eyes.

"Anyway...where was I? Ah yeah." Clearing his throat. "Thought I would surprise you, Harriet." She frowned from the use of her real name. "Yes, I mean Harriet, it's your name after all and I do what I want." Her eyes narrowed, Lincoln rose his hands. "What don't take it on me, he wrote it." Tapping the paper in emphasis.

He continued "Alright, so I pulled some strings, gave a couple green here and there of good ol' Benjamin to get it shipped over to your new place early. I knew Midnight was still in the shop but I pulled some strings and had some of the boys and girls in RD that owed me some. Is it abuse of power and instruments of the mechanics of Melody? Yes...very much so. But I do what I want." Lincoln shook his head with a smile, Logan got board and walked over to Midnight, trying to get on top of the seat but failing miserably. His mother laughed silently, bending over and lifting her boy, setting him on the bike as he smiled and pulled the handles, pretending to drive. "Either than that, yours truly, Marcus."

Well that answered that.

Suddenly their ears were assaulted by the ringing of the doorbell. Confused, the man with a plan folded the letter, stuffing it in his pocket he made his way back inside the main house, his wife picking up their son and following him.

Curiosity was great as it took over Logan. The boy leaping out of his mothers arms, dashing past his old man and towards the front door, hitting and stumbling against a few boxes here and there.

"Logan, wait." But Lincoln's voice didn't reach his boy, giving up he rushed over to his son who stood by the door.

Placing a hand on his head to calm the child, Lincoln placed a hand on the doorknob...and turned.

His eyes widened quick before reverting. Breath somewhat hitched the man still stood tall, taller than the older man infront of him. Cold blue met shocked green.

Logan stared up at the old man, head tilted the boy couldn't help but be stuck on his big nose. He couldn't help but flinch back by the way the man stared at him with big, wide and clearly petrified eyes. He was getting a lot of that lately and it wasn't going well, let alone fun.

"Who are you?" Logan asked.

The brown haired, balding, greying man could only stutter at the child. "I...th...w-wha..." He looked up at the white-haired man.

"Li-Lincoln..."

"Hey dad...been awhile."

And just like that...all the old chapters of Gun for Hire are uploaded. Now...I need help with what to do going forward.

Any ideas, leave in the reviews or PM me.