The moment you've been waiting. My three-some chapter of the fan-favorite Haiku & Karate QT. However, due to the nature of the chapter. I'll have to do it in multiple parts but hey that's more content for you and me keeping my stats up. Also, chapters may slow down due to exams coming up. Don't worry, I finally figured out a schedule or posting rotation. QTQ, Logbook then Crystal Prison. Why? QTQ is my main and most popular story but I don't want to neglect my others especially logbook since I have this multi-part chapter along with Taylor/Bully QT, Jancey Yates, and Tabby's chapters coming up. Also I want Crystal Prison to gain fans too.
Here's how it'll go. Crystal prison's new chapter will be posted sometime after this one. Then LLL will have a chapter after CP followed by another LLL chapter ending the rotation with QTQ. CP will have a chapter then QTQ ending with LLL. I'll start again. Think of it as 1,2,3, 2,3,1 then 3,2,1. If that makes sense to you guys
For the Black force energy poll: The winners were Madara, Yami from Black Clover and Aizen & Lelouch tied for third place.
I'll have another poll for Crystal Prison regarding Dusk Shine's inner voice, Dark Shine. Why? I can't keep calling his 'evil' side that because it'll get confusing after a while. So a name change will be in order. The poll will be posted later today or whenever I figure out the potential names. Names are the hardest part of creating a character.
Now that is out of the way. Sit back and enjoy. Also: MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING! This will contain violence, blood, death, Incels, guns, a callback to Capitol Insurrection and other uncomfortable topics such as murder. You have been warned.
Plus this is my first team writing this type of chapter so let me know how I did.
11/24/2021: Minor edits. The poll is up
Tags: [Far Near Future], [Rescue Mission], [SWAT/FBI], [Death], [Blood], [Raids], [Implied forced undressing], [Esponiage & Infilatation] [Part 1]
boygenius2020/JD112/Bryan Pacheco: I'll do my best since this chapter took a lot out of me. Hope that you guys enjoy it
DragoonKnight Agnim: Slow and steady wins the race. At least there's a potential of Annebelle joining in.
Guest: I haven't gotten to those parts of the story in QTQ.
Mr. Haziq: I know that some fanfics have Lincoln as a next-door neighbor so they can ship him with one of his sisters without it being weird. Mr. Grouse came to mind since he too has a big family.
Lisa returned with a medium-sized green bowl filled, holding extra butter popcorn while holding two shakers of parmesan and ranch popcorn seasoning. She sat back down and shook the pale white substances on her buttery movie snack. "What's the synopsis of this reality?" Lisa requested as her computer blinked and hummed to relay her order.
"This reality takes place with Lincoln in his early-mid twenties, leaving Lucy as the oldest in the house due to still living at home. He joined your mother's cousin Alex in the FBI," The computer explained. She blinked owlishly at this new reality.
"Lincoln joined the FBI?" Lisa questioned as she grabbed a handful. Although, it aligned with one of his childhood dreams of being a detective. He had the observational and organization skills suited for it.
"Affirmative, Dr. Loud," The computer replied. "Lincoln didn't join the standard rank and file branch of the FBI," She pushed some of the popcorn in her mouth. Then what did he join? "Instead, he joined a brand new program called 'Hammer Down.' This program was established sometime after the January 6, 2021 insurrection. The majority of the rioters or insurrectionists being given light sentences, fines, or probations," The automatic voice explained as she munched. "The Insurrection predictably emboldened other groups and their supporters to take more drastic actions. Despite their leaders being arrested, disgraced, and even executed," Lisa paused before swallowing. It didn't surprise her.
Several images and news reports littered the jumbo screen. "To combat and prevent those groups from succeeding and taking control of their respective local and state governments. Various government agencies such as the FBI, CIA, U.S. Marshals, and the National Guard, plus a few veterans and police groups, were tasked by Congress to bring down the hammer on these terrorists. Dead or alive," It replied in a severe tone as more images filled the screen. Lisa's skillful eyes analyzed the contents of each image. Governor kidnapping attempt foiled. Seven are arrested. Four dead Groups of men and women in handcuffs with sullen heads surrounded by fully armed members of Hammer Down who had neutral expressions. That can't be said for the crowd. She clicked on the video link. A cacophony of jeers and boos erupted from her speakers as the cuffed men and women were dragged off to police wagons. Another one caught her attention. Bloody Halloween: Hundreds arrested with dozens killed and or injured.
Lisa frowned at the sight of bloody innocents while these pathetic excuses of humans were having the times of their lives. However, her lips curved when those jubilant smiles morphed into abject horror and terror when Hammer Down arrived, forcing them to run with their tails between their legs. Even more so with them becoming sobbing messes in prison garbs as they desperately pleaded to the judge to no avail. She sighed.
"I can never understand how people can fall for the sheer logical fallacy of fascism, nazism, White Supremacy. Now, Trumpism," Lisa grumbled with a clenched fist before releasing it. "No. It's pointless to try to argue using facts, reason, and logic. If those worked, then they wouldn't have been Trumpers. Furthermore, these are fully grown adults with jobs, proving that they're capable of responsibility and higher cognitive thinking," She reminded herself while taking a deep breath. "What else can you tell me about Hammer Down,"
"Certainly, Dr. Loud," The A.I agreed. "Due to the nature of their mission puts them under the FBI's umbrella. Particularly dealing with corruption, domestic terrorists, violent crimes, and criminal organizations. An elite force akin to SWAT with training from Green Berets and Navy SEALS," Lisa rubbed her chin at this group. "Therefore, training is tough requiring a clean background and physical fitness depending on their role," Makes sense due to their broad scope of protecting the USA. "Like the military, the members are on tours for a set amount of years given their perilous situations. Once their term is over, they can 'retire,' readjusting to civilian life but can return with a job if they so choose," That's generous of them. They can serve their country by dealing with internal threats. Go back to being a regular civilian with some benefits here and there, along with the option of returning while keeping said benefits.
"What about Lincoln?" Lisa asked.
"He's one of their best operatives they have given his skills," The computer confirmed while Lisa smiled in pride. That's her Lincoln. "Unfortunately, since he's among the best. He's given some of the worst and extreme missions available," She pinched the bridge of her nose as she could only imagine what horrors he witnessed. "Luckily, Lincoln isn't alone. He's accompanied by Haiku and Alexandria as his main teammates," Now, that's surprising. Wait, why is that surprising? Lisa, you're watching the literal multiverse. Yet of all things, this surprises you.
"Well, yes," Lisa declared. "Haiku has an elegant and sophisticated aura around her, more suited as an author living a peaceful life instead of the fierce battleground expected from those of Hammer Down. Although, some of their missions can make interesting stories. Even a few documentaries," Okay, fair enough, but you see my point. "Alexandria, on the other hand, not so much. Her personality is similar to Lynn's, but I expected her to do more sports or competitions. Nevertheless, this should be interesting," Yes. Yes, it would since this chapter has movie-style action but nothing insane. Why? It has an actual plot. "If only people like Micheal Bay took half of the effort he puts into his explosions. Maybe Megan Fox would have a better acting career," Her computer snickered at that retort.
"Hey, if Micheal Bay did firework shows. He would make a killing," The automatic voice suggested. "Would you like a drink, Dr. Loud?" It was offered.
"Yes, I would like that," Lisa smiled as the A.I fetched her a Sprite Cranberry soda. "Hopefully, the author gives you a name or an acronym to call," I haven't gotten that far in terms of naming since I've got Crystal Prison and Q.T. Quarrel to worry about. So lay off and watch the reality, Lisa.
Date: October 23, 2028
Location: FBI Field Office in Dallas, Texas.
Several individuals were in a conference room when the director walked in. A well-built professional man with light blond hair and piercing jade eyes in a standard black suit and tie. "Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Agent Alex Cunningham," He introduced himself. To answer your possible questions. Yes. He will appear in Q.T. Quarrel, most likely in the next chapter.
"Good afternoon," They greeted him back, watching him walk to the front of the room.
"I'm sure you know why I called you here today, especially on a Monday," Agent Cunningham announced to the group. It consists of his fellow agents, law enforcement, scientists, SWAT, and city officials. Some of them nodded with a dire expression. "Good," He gestured for someone to shut off the lights. A projector screen scrolled behind him as he stepped to the side, standing behind a podium. Agent Cunningham reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small remote. "For those that don't know. Here's today's debriefing," He pushed a button allowing the projector to display the presentation. "Approximately five weeks ago. A radical incel movement called The Knights of Forced Celibacy took over the moderate-sized town of Wheatglass Valley in Mississippi," Alex announced. Some of them groaned, dragging some of their hands down their faces. "I know, guys. This sucks," He frowned in sympathy when someone raised their hand. "Yes, a question?"
"Reports detailed that other extremist groups are involved as well," A female remarked, going through her notes. "Remnants of the Oath Keepers, Three Percenters, and Proud Boys were commonly seen," A few growled and gritted their teeth at the mention of these groups. They thought they were over and done with. But no. Like roaches or that annoying ex. They always find a way to come back.
"Correct," Agent Cunningham acknowledged by going to the following slides exhibiting more groups. "Also the Bringers of Ragnorok, Thor's brotherhood, Lords of the Iron Cross, Order 45, Reclaimers of the Reich, Lee's Legion and the Trumpet Bearers," He listed off. Their resolve hardened at the number of the groups involved while others gulped. A whole ten confirmed hostile organizations. Each group can have dozens to hundreds to even thousands of members.
"The messed up thing is that some of these groups have cool names," someone mentioned causing the rest to glare at the person. "What? I'm just saying,"
"That's the 'appeal' of some of these groups. They definitely have awesome names. Most of them can be from a movie, book, or video game. However, that's it," Alex continued. "Only thing they have is a cool name. Nothing more. Nothing less," Another slide titled September 17th-23th. "Here are some images of the first week," A collage of flag-ridden trucks, adults in tactical armor armed with rifles and Molotov cocktails battling against the local police. He zoomed in on one of the pictures. The police were with the terrorists?! Man, this isn't good. The next slide shows a few days later. Crowds of people escaped into neighboring towns and cities while their homes were razed and ravaged. The blue sky was coated with thick smog illuminated by their blazes of the invaders' madness. Another slide. Even more, flags were planted on city hall as the Knights and other groups were their banners, triumphantly bringing back old memories at the Capitol.
"What happened to the mayor and the council?" A man in a white lab coat brought it up.
"She's fine. They're held up at a secure undisclosed location within the state. They're helping us organize the raid by providing intel on the current events," Agent Cunningham responded before displaying an image of the town with red and blue spots. "We're slowly taking ground," He used a laser pointer to highlight the growing blue areas. "There's one major stronghold being used as their main base of operation. The city hall. The local schools and an empty mall or department store. They're used as holding cells where hundreds to thousands are being contained and storage for their equipment," Alex explained to the silent room. The mission escalated into a hostage situation. "Even though these are predominantly misogynistic incels. I don't need to explain,"
"Excuse me, but what's an Incel?" A female junior administrator asked
"You're fairly young, so that explains it," Agent Cunningham started. "Are you aware of 'Nice guys,'" She nodded.
"They're guys who claim that they're 'nice' as they constantly complain that girls don't appreciate them. Despite the fact, they're horrible people without a shred of self-awareness," She stated with a scoff.
"Exactly. Incels and Nice guys go hand in hand," Alex explained as he went to the next slide. "Incel is short for involanarty celibate. The term originated in Canada, where a woman complained about her lack of sexual/romantic encounters. This was before online dating, and apps like Tinder, Bumble, and other websites were established," The group took notes. For once, the USA isn't to blame. "So she started a group or website to help people who can't find a date or have difficulties. It ranged from people with mental disorders like depression and anxiety to those who got out of a long relationship either due to death or divorces like my Uncle Albert and maligned people. The purpose was for inclusiveness and companionship. Soon the creator found out that she was queer and found a girlfriend. Remember this was before the LGBTQ+ community got the support it has today," He clarified.
"So what happened to the website?"
"She sold to some random stranger, and nothing happened for a few years," Alex went to another slide showing them some of the crimes committed as gasps were heard in the room. "Now, it's this. A radical pathetic group of man-children who believe women should be considered less than people. Advocating rape and murder of women, blaming them for all of their problems. Lowering or even removing the age of consent," He spat out in disgust. "Some of them were responsible for mass shootings in the past. The most infamous was Elliot Rogers in Santa Barbara," Alex continued to pull up some of his old YouTube videos.
"I'll take this one," A man with sharp hazel eyes in a grey suit stood up. His name tag says, Jack. "When you look at . He's relatively attractive and wealthy. However, this wasn't enough for females to actually date him, let alone fuck him," He gestured with his hands. "The mindset of incels and nice guys is that females only go for the top ten percentages of males. These are the 'Alphas' or 'Chads.' For example, six feet tall, six-pack, a six-figure salary, six cars, six plus inches. They emphasize the six feet thing," Jack informed the group. "This enraged Elliot as he believed that females should've flocked to him, but they didn't. In typical incel fashion. He blamed women." Several of them rolled their eyes. "A number of his videos have him complaining of his lack of romantic endeavors and stalking. It led up to his shooting spree and suicide," More slides demonstrated his point as they gazed in disgust. "Incels made him the Patron saint of their organization,"
"They worship this fucker?" A female police officer with narrow pale eyes and strawberry blonde hair fumed. He nodded. "Fucking hell,"
"Unfortunately so as numerous Incels used Elliot Roger as a pen name. Other times to honor their killings to him labeling them as Elliot Rogers revenge," Jack clenched his fist in rage before taking a calming breath. "Like the other groups, they're racist and sexist but are more dangerous due to being more willing to kill," Murmurs occupied the room. They had numbers easily in the hundreds or the thousands, especially if they could take over a town. Motive; they want to create a new government, spreading out throughout the USA, proving that they're better than everyone else. Finally, zeal. Their most lethal component as they fully and truly believe in what they are doing is a just cause. A deadly combo of any radical group.
"Is there anything else we have to know, like terms or lingo?"
"Yes. Fortunately, Incel lingo has been relatively unchanged for the past twenty years," Jack confirmed as a generalized list appeared on the screen. "I already told you about Alphas/Chads, which are sexually attractive and successful men. It has a strange duality where it's an insult and a compliment. They hate you but also want to be you. Stacey's are the women Incels want but can never obtain due to Chads such as the pornstars, supermodels, and whatever hentai they watch. Becky's are the 'average' girls who are often forced to settle for stability once they reach their peak around age 25," He used the laser pointer for each term.
"What are these pills they're talking about?" A male with pale blue eyes and a lean build questioned.
"They're taken from The Matrix. Bluepilled are those who remain in blissful ignorance. Redpilled people live in the real world as women are better off than men, and the odds are stacked against them. Now the notorious Blackpilled. It's a fatalist belief that women would never date them due to their physical attractiveness and inferior genes. The Atomic or Nuclear Blackpill is indisputable proof that women are shallow and selfish and love physical attractiveness. For instance, preferring serial killers and criminals," Jack explained. "It happens in real life but not to the extent they believe,"
"Thank you, Jack," Agent Cunningham acknowledged as Jack took a seat. "Now we know who and what we were dealing with," He pushed the remote for the next slide. Operation: Break the chains. "This is a full-blown assault, raid, and rescue mission. Our enemies are tough and fully willing to kill. Agent Alexandira, would you please?" Karate Q.T. arose in full tactical body armor, towering over them as she marched to the front, giving them a bow. "She'll be one of her commanders during this mission,"
"Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Alexandria, and I'm a member of Lamanda-6 or the 'White Rabbits,'" Alexandria introduced as they stared at her with gobsmacked expressions. She's a member of the White Rabbits?! The Mobile Task Force wasn't anything else special yet holds the highest success rate among Hammer Down. How? Simple planning, organizational and observational skills thanks to their star member Lincoln Loud. Lamanda-6 was primarily an infiltration and espionage unit by getting information and hiding in plain sight. Nobody thinks a rabbit is a threat. Lincoln's people and persuasion skills allowed them to crack down on groups and people of interest that would've taken them years to mere weeks. Even better, he coordinates with other teams such as the Front Runners, Village Idiots, and Technical Support, permitting independent yet mutually aligned goals. If you know about SCP and their Mobile Task Forces. You'll understand why I did chose these ones. Hell, some of the members transferred to the White Rabbits making it one of the largest teams. There's one question. Where's Lincoln?
"I bet you're wondering where's Bunny Boy," Alex smirked to the befuddled group. "He's already enacting his part of the plan to take down the Knights,"
"When and how?" The junior administrator demanded.
"Some of our agents were aware of the Knight's plan for Wheatglass Valley before the assault. However, it was already planned and in full force before we could stop it. We only to delay and or reduce the carnage," Alex explained grimly, enabling us to step forward.
"My fellow squadmates of Lincoln and Haiku were sent to investigate and get captured, giving us an inside look along with other agents," Alexandria continued before pouting slightly. "I wanted to go, but Haiku has the goth girl from Gamestop vibe while I'm over six feet tall with a chiseled six-pack making her more of an ideal target,"
"You're telling us that some of our best members are locked in a cell somewhere with those sickos?" A captain of Hammerdown barked. Cunningham raised a hand to calm her.
"Don't worry, my cousin and Haiku have taken that into account and are fine," He confirmed before going to the next slide. "They're doing their part, and now we have to do our part," They discuss the battle plan
One week later
"Hey squire, it's your turn to keep watch of the prisoner," A middle man with a scraggly beard commanded a meek male in his late teens. The young man nodded, holding an AR-15 while glaring at the older man's back before going on his patrol. He was a 'squire,' making him, along with some of his colleagues, the lowest ranking members. He gazed at the surrounding area from the upper-level floor as other members did their parols. It's daylight despite the prisoner sleeping or meditating. It's kinda hard to see from this angle. Granted, they did invade while they were converting the mall into a shelter. There's still construction material around.
"How the fuck did I end up in this?" The young squire grumbled to himself, narrowing his eyes at his red kite shield emblem on his chest. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He already had a difficult time making friends, or even having friends, to begin with. Couldn't talk to girls due to his damn shyness. Hell, the only girls he spent time around were his family. He joined the Knights to be more social. Gain some friends and confidence. Now he's this. The news labeled him a threat to society. A terrorist. God, he's so glad that his face didn't make the news. His family would be devastated.
"Hey, Keith, how are you doing today," Lincoln greeted from his cell with a charming smile. It startled him for a brief moment. "You're looking kinda rough today,"
"Hey, Leon, not so good," Keith groaned to himself. Lincoln didn't give him his real name. To him, he was Leon Cunningham. Keith went quiet for a few moments when some of the higher-ups walked by the cell.
"You better not be talking that, Chad," He growled at the young boy while Lincoln gave this weak sod of man a dismissive smirk.
"No, sir," Keith shook his head despite his newfound contempt for the Knights.
"Good since you're becoming a member of the new world order," He bragged, causing Lincoln to snicker. He marched to Lincoln tugged on his dirty orange t-shirt, forcing him against the steel bar while Lincoln kept his smirk. "What's so funny, you fucking soyboy cuck?" He snarled as Lincoln said nothing besides a short chuckle. "Bet you won't be laughing; we become kings with our harems while YOU! GET! NOTHING!" He emphasized getting spit on Lincoln's face. This guy definitely looked the part of a typical basement-dwelling incel. Greasy, unkempt hair with pasty acne-ridden skin. Shit, you can play connect the dots with the amount of red pus-filled bumps on his face. A sweat-stained hentai shirt despite taking the escalator. Lincoln hopes those were sweat stains. "You fucking chads take all of the Stacy's just because you're good-looking, leaving nice guys like me who treat women with respect with the bargain bin filled with Becky's," Carl raged, given by his name tag. That makes it easier. His Cheeto dust fingers gripped his shirt even tight as he continued to glare at Lincoln. These Chads always do this to him. They always take the girls he wanted away from him. A flash of their abs or fancy car is all it took for females to drop their panties for them. EVERY! SINGLE! TIME! He's been left with nothing because of them. Either a chad stole them away from him, such as his crushes throughout elementary, middle, and high school, especially his chosen prom date. Carl warned that they were empty-headed brutes who'd do nothing but abuse or use them. But they listen?! No, they didn't. For some reason, she's still with him despite his constant messages throughout the years. She blocked him every time. Whatever. That dumb bitch roastie is already past her sexual prime. She better not be crying to him when he divorces her or dies. Don't get him started on those fake lesbians
"The Becky I knew was pretty cute," Lincoln recalled one of his sister's friends with a shrug. He wondered how's she's doing. It's been a few years.
"Bullshit!" Carl bellowed as several members peeked at him in annoyance. Like dude, shut the fuck up already. "You fucking wish you were me right now. I have the power. I'll get the girls. Not you," Lincoln rolled his eyes before glancing at Keith. Is this the type of people you want to be with?
"Gee, who wouldn't be you? A sweaty, smelly, three hundred plus pound basement-dwelling man-child," Lincoln mocked in an innocent tone while Conner gritted his yellow teeth. The male Loud taunted with a laugh. "Don't make me laugh. You're everything no real man wants to be," Lincoln broke Carl's grip on his shirt. He glared at Lincoln while rubbing his sore hand. Lincoln raised a finger to start off. "Let's start at the beginning. You, sir, are a NEET. You're not employed in education or training. Dude, you're not doing anything with your life besides complaining about women. Yet you believe that women should automatically come to you like you're the last PS5 during a Black Friday sale. The same goes for the rest of you guys, but I digress," Lincoln pointed, then shrugged. "Secondly, dude, you fucking reek. Come on, it's basic hygiene," He placed a hand on his chest with a scrunched-up nose, " I have an excuse for not looking my best," His fluffy white was a mess. Didn't shower for the day. "Yet I'm still better looking than you. Carl, you've been wearing the same shirt and cargo pants combo for like three weeks straight. I know this since that Cherry mountain dew stain is still there," Carl glanced at his chest. Shit, he's right. "And when was the last time you stepped into a gym or exercised. Your stomach only makes up three-quarters of my body weight," He flexed his biceps to demonstrate while others snickered. Carl's rancid glare silenced them. "Thirdly, this is probably the most important. You guys like in your fucking forties. Fully grown adults. Yet you're acting butt hurt teenagers, especially you," Lincoln gestured at Carl as he continued to seethe with rage. "Mid-forties, multiple divorces with no job and overweight smelling old cum and stale Cheetos. Yet you have the gall, the audacity to believe that women have nothing to offer after age thirty while you insist that you age like fine wine," Lincoln's face went blank. God, he's getting bored wondering how many times someone said this to him. His blue eyes recorded the sullen expressions of the Knights before grinning at Keith. "At least Keith has an explanation due to being young. You're in high school, right?"
"Yes, I'm in the eleventh grade," The young man answered. Carl snarled. Why are you talking to him?!
"Don't worry about it, man. You'll be fine, and it's perfectly normal not having that much experience in sex or romance," Lincoln consoled. "Some guys haven't gotten started until their twenties. So at the moment, focus on self-improvement and self-discovery to eliminate your main faults," The white-haired Loud advised. "For me, I tend to overthink, but I learn how to relax and breathe,"
"Really?" Keith stammered as Lincoln nodded with a smile. "I hate that I never take risks and not socializing mo-" Carl marched up to him and pistol-whipped him in the face, shattering his nose.
"Don't you fucking dare take the goddamn blue pill!" Carl threatened, holding a bloodstained Glock under Keith's chin. The recruit glared as blood dripped from his nose. "Women are shallow, cum-guzzling parasites who only go for the upper 20% like him," He pointed at Lincoln as the keys on his pants jiggled. "They'll leave you with nothing but a broken heart, blue balls, and an empty wallet," Carl continued his rant. "I've seen and experienced it. The Redpill will set you free!" His greasy fingers gripped Keith's shoulders and shook him. "When the fuck are you going to see that the world is unfair to people like us?" The incel paced to Lincoln's cell with a snarl. "Girls will leave us for him in an instant. But no more!" He shouted furiously, gathering the attention of those at the lower levels. "No more being left on! No more sluts promoting their Only Fans! No more being overlooked and ignored. We will be the lords of the new era where females will know their place and have no choice but to be with us. Whether they like it or not?" Shadows covered Lincoln's eyes as he started to laugh. It chilled them as some of them shuffled away from him. Why is he laughing? Lincoln held his midsection as his cackle continued echoing throughout the mall. He stopped taking a deep breath to calm himself, wiping a tear from his eye. Carl took a step back when Lincoln smirked at him with vacant arctic eyes.
"Spoke like a typical Beta," Lincoln started with an amused expression. "Always blaming women for your problems. I would call you pathetic, but that's too good for you," He checked his nails. "Honestly, if you guys took a quarter of the time that you blame women into working on yourselves. You guys won't be here and could've been something. How long have you been incels? Years? Decades? Probably longer than I've been alive," Some of them lowered their weapons at the prediction with defeated expressions. "Now you're terrorists. Man, you guys are hopeless. No woman will date you, let alone be associated with you. They already turned you into the FBI," He smiled again. "It's only a matter of time before you guys are in a body bag or cuffs," Carl glared at his fellow whispering Knights. He can't show weaknesses.
"You won't be calling us pathetic or hopeless when I put a bullet in your skull," Carl threatened, putting the cold steel against Lincoln's forehead with his crusty finger on the trigger. Lincoln grabbed his wrist, forcing him back, causing Carl to yelp in pain as the gun dropped in his cell before he jabbed him in the throat. Only pained gurgling slipped out as the incel held his damaged neck. Lincoln's grip remained. He hammered his fist into Carl's elbow, enabling a sickening crunch to echo as the joint popped in the opposite direction. They winched when Carl collapsed to his knees with tears in his eyes and a warm stain in his groin area. Lincoln grabbed Carl's slimy face and slammed it into the hard floor giving him the same injury as Keith. He released the bulbous man. Lincoln glanced at the gun while Carl writhed in pain. They watch him analyze the Glock. He frowned. It was rarely used, probably fresh out of the store. Just a tool for intimation.
"Never when you threaten someone with a gun. Make sure it's actually loaded," Lincoln scolded as he showed them the empty magazine. Hell, there wasn't a bullet in the chamber, and the safety was on. At least Carl practiced gun safety. "Well, you probably won't be under nine millimeters," Lincoln taunted before carelessly tossing the gun back to him. "You need that more than I do because, without it, you're a little bitch and a half. I think I do know why you need guns on your person 24/7. It makes you feel like a badass. You find strength in it because no one is willing to mess with someone with a gun. However, you need it because without it. You're nothing more than a haireóiamh," Lincoln commented.
"English, please," Keith requested. They don't speak Gaelic.
"It means a man who lost his cock or simply a coward or weakling not even fit to be a thrall," Lincoln explained. "My family has strong ties to Scotland," He explained before blankly staring at the glaring, sniffling man. "Guys like you always think you're the major badasses in your favorite show or video game. Everyone thinks that, but they rarely are." He peeked at the pickle rick socks. "Let's use Rick from Rick and Morty. You think you're so smart beyond any human that no one can possibly understand you. Yet you were a C- student at best claiming that you would've gotten an A if you tried," Lincoln scoffed. "We both know that's a load of bullshit. Let's add sharing a bunch of Joker memes specifically from the 2019 movie on social media about how dangerous and scary you are and that nobody should mess up with you. Hey, newsflash!" He shouted and pointed to the guards. "Nobody's afraid of some whining man-children with 8th grader syndrome. The only reason why people are afraid of you is how pathetically desperate you guys are, as you have absolutely nothing to lose. Seriously, take a good long look at yourselves and ask yourself, is this my greatest achievement?" Lincoln berated the men with crossed arms and a frown.
They did just that. Is this my most outstanding achievement? His harsh words removed their rose-covered veil from their minds with a heavy heart. He's right. What the fuck were they doing? Was this the literal best that they could've done with their pitiful lives? Most of them didn't have jobs due to being unemployed or fired for their involvement. Their social media contacts were culled to each other. Nobody from the outside wanted to associate with them. All they found were Add Friend or blocked. Hell, some received emails about divorces. One sniffed himself and gagged at the smell. God, that was gross. More gazed at their emblem in shame. Fully grown men trying to be something they're not. They looked amongst themselves and didn't find a single badass. Yet, they're the ones that are armed with rifles, explosives, and tactical armor. The only one here was locked behind a cell. He's right. They have nothing but empty lives, dwindling bank accounts, hate, and cum crusted socks, while Lincoln, on the other hand. He's young enough to be their son or schoolmate, and his life is infinitely better than theirs. A college degree with friends and family that enjoys his presence.
Along with a well-paying job. Potentially a girlfriend like a goth girl that he hung around with. Some are walking down the stairs with defeated expressions as their shoulders sank with sullen heads.
"Where are you guys going?"Carl fumed with a trail of warm amber urine leaking down his hairy leg. Dude, seriously, when was the last time you drank some water? Your urine shouldn't be that dark. "Get back here!" He stood holding his fractured wrist while Lincoln gave a slight smirk. Once again, left with nothing. Carl's venomous and spiteful glare did nothing to halt Lincoln's amusement.
"You better get that checked out," Lincoln chuckled, pointed at the fractured wrist before looking at his hand. Oh god, was that his jerking offhand?
The incel's cheeks flamed to bright red with gritted yellow teeth. What the hell is this guy on?! He shouldn't be this confident. He shouldn't be this calm! His overworked cholesterol-covered heart beat like a drum at the continued sight of Lincoln, who was everything that he hated. He was six feet or at least close to it with chiseled abs. It was always Lincoln this or Lincoln that. Those cold sapphire eyes mocked him to the core. Carl knew that Lincoln was an abusive asshole. How else would females flock to him? He didn't have proof but could feel it in his gut. I'm pretty sure that's ingestion, my dude. But that's what you get when virtually everything you eat is processed.
"YOU…YOU…YOU…YOU!" Carl seethed with foul heated breaths as he stomped forward with clenched fists. His yellowed tinted teeth groaned under pressure glaring at Lincoln with bulging eyes redder than the devil.
"V, W, X, Y, and Z," Lincoln concluded with a smirk and a shrug. "See, I helped you to finish since you were stuck," He said casually while Carl's head and neck veins flared as sweat rolled down on his burning face. Lincoln covered his mouth, faking a yawn. "I had my fun. I'm heading to bed," He turned away, ignoring the scathing glare at his firm back before lying down on the bed
"Fuck you, Leon!" Carl bellowed in a whiny tone pushing his greasy face against the steel bars with bulging bloodshot eyes. Several turned their heads towards the echoing noise. Thunder roared a few seconds later. An overhead T.V. displayed the weather forecast for the day: Heavy Thunderstorms. Lincoln waved him off with his back still towards him. Carl continued to heave frantically at his indifference before smiling a bit. "Maybe I should relieve some stress with that goth roastie bitch of" Cold. He paused with shivered, rumbling his body as his heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Others started to back away from this tension. Carl's throat constricted; he grabbed it with a croaking wheeze. What the fuck is this? He reflected slowly, crouching to his knees with a wimpy grip on the bars. Slowly and timidly, he lifted his head to view the silver hair blue-eyed demon at the other side of the cell. Lincoln calmly stared at the pathetic mortal in disinterest. Another repulsive amber puddle formed under this genetic dead-end's feet. This is what four billion years of evolutionary success has created? Carl shook with an agape maw as Lincoln silently gazed at him like the pathetic insignificant insect he always was. What was he thinking? That he was of all people.
An insect imitating intellect against an Indra Wild thoughts steamrolled through his lust-sulled mind. No. This is bad. Run. Get out. Have to get the fuck out of here. Yet his body refused to obey him. Again with his legs buckling. Nothing once more. Stuck. Completely at Lincoln's mercy. "Ple-Please…" He pleaded with a quivering lip and glossy eyes like a spineless slave to his emperor. Lincoln turned his back towards him again. Carl scurried away towards the escalator, whimpering with trails of wet cowardice dripping from his hairy legs. Keith resumed his guard now that his nose had stopped bleeding. Lincoln observed the ceiling before glancing at the ticking clock. He raised his arm, watching his flexing fingers before clenching his fist
It's almost time.
Heavy, furious charcoal clouds choked the sun preventing a ray of light from piercing through the shield of chilled water vapor. Streaks of lightning scarred the sky with roaring thunder following its eternal companion. The clouds burst with a torrent of rain, allowing itself to cry for Wheatglass and its people. Why must innocents suffer for the warped ambition of the cruel? Obscure markings of hate stained the once excellent town hall with blankets of flags and banners throughout the exterior marking their victory. A company of sentries patrolled the outside despite the biting air and dense downpour as surveillance rotated from up top. Men, women, and their children were armed and ready to defend it with their lives behind their shoddy barricades. But were they really? A smooth pale hand gingerly pressed itself against the cracked glass window as Haiku gazed upon the guards standing behind their barricades. What a pitiful lot. The goth thought to herself as lightning flashed across the sorrowful sky with rumbling clouds. She adjusted her solid black facial mask. A brown brand marked her bare chest. 'R' for Roastie. Another one with F.R. on her palm. Femroid. She's a female but not a human, according to them. Her hands swiftly straightened the french maid apron that they provided for her. Coupled with charcoal thigh highs, heels, and garter straps. Honestly, this isn't too different from what she usually wears. Expect the fact that her double stuffed ass cheeks are hanging out of her lilac lace thong. And her ass is hungry. Her pointer finger pulled against the fabric giving her cheeks some air. Man, it's giving her a wedgie. Haiku rechecked herself in the mirror. Maybe she kept it with a few modifications. More black and purple. Her visible eye peaked at the cracked clock on the peeling wall as rain leaked from the ceiling.
"Better get going," Haiku whispered, grabbing a silver tray holding bottles of Mountain Dew and placing it on a trolley. Her heels clicked, and wheels squeaked, splashing against the numerous puddles scattered throughout the building as she made her rounds. Disgust and disappointment filled her blank stare on the image of these people and their Trump paraphernalia: Let's go, Brandon, MAGA, 2024, 2020, Qanon, JFK Jr.
"Poor misguided and ignorant fools. Is this the man you rever? Worship? Idolize?! The embodiment of the seven soul-destroying sins. Lust for women, his daughter, and power. Greed and Gluttony. Wealth is all he ever cared about, consuming more and more and more and more and more and more and more into his rancid maw until there's nothing left while you're destitute and starving battling each other for mere scarps,"
Haiku turned left, entering a dark, filthy rat nest of a room as a group of four played Fortnite with the illuminating television area. Grateful for the mask blocking the putrid odor of sweat and semen as flies swarmed around them. She tenderly avoided the gallons worths of piss bottles and crusty socks. The bathroom is literally down the hall. Haiku refilled their massive teal bowl with nacho cheese Doritos and pizza rolls fresh from the still working oven. TBH I have a bag of Doritos next to me, but now I don't want them right now. Damn, this is a lot of build-ups, and we haven't gotten into the action yet. Several bottles were placed beside them. They absentmindedly reached into the bowl, moving their sustenance to their mouths. Bloodshot eyes glued to the screen, numb to the outside world, as she closed the door. Now, where was she? Oh right.
"Slaves to the suffocating squalor of sloth. No drive, no motivation, no will, no soul. No…anything." Haiku sighed, wanting to feel pity for those poor souls wasting their bodies. Yet, she couldn't. They made their choices and refused to better themselves. No one's fault except their own. More graffiti lay on the walls as she passed by offices of once-respected people. Burn marks were apparent amongst them. Others were converted into lounge rooms. A few remained as they were in positions of power and authority.
"Come on, honey, give a little show for us," A slimy voice caught her attention. The man was with his friends in a room with a steel pole at the center. A young girl wearing amateur make-up and a skimpy outfit. Haiku frowned. God, she looks like she's supposed to be in middle school.
"Daddy…please," The girl pleaded with mascara running down her face revealing a slight discoloration on one of her eyes. He clapped his hands while his friends had luscious grins on their faces. She grabbed the pole and began the performance. Again. Magma ran through the goth veins at what she witnessed. His own daughter?! Out of all people. Her still-beating heart wasn't angry. That's too simple. How about…rage, contempt, and repulsion? Good enough for the time being. She wanted nothing more than to gut these …men like the pigs they were. However, that wasn't the worst thing about the girl's situation. It was her mother's idea. Yep, she was the one who dressed up in such a distasteful attire. Why? Her daughter was prettier than her.
"The enveloping enigma of envy. How it blinds us to our gifts while we focus and attempt to steal or destroy what others have despite wanting it for ourselves," Haiku walked with a fellow worker pushing a trolley filled with pies and other baked goods. Fortunately, she was a trad wife, making her highly valued. Meek, modest, submissive, and delicate. Her puffy red hair and her lovely sundress. The two shared a look heading towards their destination.
A round table with a scrawling Carl now with medical wrappings around his hand and wrist.
"Fucking Leon, that soyboy cuck piece of shit," He seethed while others rolled their eyes at him. Haiku assisted Cristina with putting the pies on the table. Yes, I'm using Cristina even though I already used her in the last chapter. However, this is my story, and each chapter is an alternate universe/timeline. Everything goes.
"Again with this crap," A middle-aged male with wavy dark blond hair groaned, taking a bite of the apple pie. "You talked about him so much like he's your ex-wife or something."
"Of fucking course. He's fucking annoying and a threat to our organization and our way of life," Carl seethed at the image of Lincoln. "He's everything that we hate,"
"No, he's everything you hate and a threat to your way of life," A man with basic features, a tall build, green eyes, and very long jet black hair mocked while cracking open a cold one. "Despite that, you want to be him," He calculated before taking a sip
"Why the fuck would I want to be that chad, you fucking conservative?!" Carl shouted, standing abruptly, slamming his hands on the table. "You're the one supporting a two impeached daddy's boy who sold out our country to fucking Russia so he can pay off his debts," He countered with a glare. "And you're a veteran, and he called your dead friends' losers,"
"Let's start from the beginning. You want to be him. He's everything that you aspire to be but never could be," The green-eyed man retorted as Cristina placed more drinks on the table. Fuck it. I'll call you Byrce. "A sexually active man with consenting females along with an impressive resume, skills, and a magnetic personality that draws people in," He smiled. Shame that Leon is a liberal
"Oh, whatever, he teaches art at the community college," Carl scoffed, snatching an ice-cold beer from Haiku. Rude. "Anyone can do that…."
"And what the fuck do you then, Mr. Unemployed for the last few years while living with my mom who blames women for all of your problems," The blond man mocked. "He makes actual art while you make or commission loli porn, you fucking pedo,"
"Hey, my waifu is a 5000-year-old dragon goddess."
"It's still a child fucking weirdo," An adolescent male with a pierced nose remarked, enjoying his food. Cristina said it has a unique family ingredient. "Probably the only person who'll be impressed by your dick size. Especially if you need a forklift and a microscope just to see it," Cristina and Haiku stiffed their laughter while Carl's face raged red. "Well, if you can even get it up after all," Cristina straighten the skirt of her dress. It has pockets
"Furthermore, our rebellion has a real purpose while you simply want a girlfriend or slave in your case," Byrce mentioned as he leaned forward. "But won't that make you the ultimate beta? That you're so hopeless and pathetic with women that you have to force them with you. What makes you, of all people, believe that'll we send you the supermodels and pornstars," He placed a hand on his iron cross medal. "Yeah, I'm a nazi. It's literally in my blood and you," He glared at Carl, who gritted his teeth. "You're the subhuman trash my great grandparents exterminated to cleanse the gene pool. All for the betterment of humanity" An imposing silence filled the room as their hands twitched and slowly moved towards their firearms. Haiku and Cristina exited the room. Whatever happens, happens. It's none of their concern these insurrectionists live or die.
No shots. Pity. It would make their job a lot easier. No matter as it'll all end the same with them in body bags or cuffs. Haiku shivered from the crisp, chilly air. Damn, the heater is still broken. She tapped her fingers against the steel handle of the trolley. "Did you complete her task?" They were still in enemy territory. Everything must go to plan.
"Yes," Cristina replied with a tap on her dress. A tiny bottle with a dropper rested in her pocket. The contents of the bottle weren't lethal or harmful but held side effects. Sexual issues such as erectile dysfunction and the inability to ejaculate. Given their unhealthy lifestyles, they thought it was a regular part of their lives. The two winched at the foul odor of refuse from one of the vacant rooms. What is that like, the third room or something? "At least we know that Lincoln did his job," She acknowledged. They were once a united front, eating, drinking while they chatted about the next stage of their plan. Now they're huddled in their niche group, glaring and harshly whispering at the others. Think about everything single generic high school drama where everyone has their main clique. For instance, incels are the nerds, supremacists are the jocks, etc. In fact, the two are viewing one in action. A group of incels was loitering around a staircase playing their Nintendo switches and steam decks. They narrowed their eyes at the group of supremacists wielding DIY shields, batons, and firearms. The women strolled through, undeterred by the constricting atmosphere.
"I'll see you later, Cristina," Haiku replied with a smile hidden by her mask. Cristina nodded before heading to the kitchen as she went down another corridor. Okay, where was she during her inner monologue? Lust, greed, gluttony, sloth, and envy. Oh right. That leaves pride and wrath.
"The illusion of pride clouded their judgment. Their misguidedly flawed belief that their skin color automatically makes them superior to everyone else. What makes you believe that? Pathetic last, men. No wealth, prestige, birthright, or morals. Vapid husks eager for destruction so they can make themselves the gods of the new world," Haiku entered her dorm with some of the other Roasties. Devalued and bimbofied. Some were the rebels' ex-wives, former girlfriends, family, and those who rejected them. A pair were comforting a woman sobbing, worrying about her son, Keith, hoping that he was okay. The goth sat on her bunk bed with her thoughts. "They have nothing in their souls besides their wrath. A slow ever-corroding poison corrupting everything they held dear. Only ash and bone will remain for their crimes," She smiled as she removed her mask. "For its almost time,"
A sentry yawned, grateful that the rain subsided. She took off her soaking 'Let's go Brandon' hoodie revealing her red MAGA t-shirt. Her partner passed her a thermos of coffee to keep her up. The caffeinated lifeblood warmed her body before handing it back. Why did they have her during the night watch? Again! Several flags flapped in the wind as she and the other surveyed the area with their rifles ready. She signed. Things aren't looking good. Reports stated that they were losing ground throughout the town. Supplies are running low. The workers sabotaged the heating and plumbing in the building right before they took it. There's already talk about going AWOL amongst the groups. Hammer down is coming for them. She saw what they were capable of. What the fuck is she of people going to do? A suburban housewife that never fired a gun against an elite unit. A family huddled together behind a make-shift barricade along with the steps. Maybe there's a chance for her to run and get out here. Her partner rapidly tapped on her shoulder
"Sarah, we got company," Her partner whispered, pointing forward. She narrowed her eyes to gain a clear view. A faint siren grew louder with each second as a sea of red, and blue lights flashed in the distance. They glanced to the sky, alert by the buzzing of a news helicopter. Oh god, there's more coming.
" Holy shit! It's the FBI and Hammer done. Battle stations, everyone!" They swiftly reported to their positions. Spotlights focused on the aircraft as reporters gave their statements to the observing audience. Several members stood up and cocked their rifles with shaky hands while a bottomless pit engulfed their stomachs. Some attempted to flee but were stopped by others brandishing their weapons at them with their fingers on the triggers holding them in place. Sarah's partner pushed his sidearm against her ribs. A squad of police cars rammed through the fences before sharply turning to the side, forming a line. Police officers exited the vehicles using them as cover with guns drawn, ready to rescue their fellow officers, friends, family, and loved ones from these terrorists. A deafening silence echoed throughout the area amidst the standoff. Agent Cunningham stepped out of a van wearing a helmet, bulletproof vest while holding a megaphone. It shirked as he activated the device.
"Good afternoon everyone, my name is Agent Alexander Cunningham," He introduced himself to the group. They tightened their grips on their weapons, whether it was a gun, knife, baton, or whatever they got their slimy hands on. "I won't give any speeches, but your situation isn't looking good. You're cold and starving with nothing to your name besides your hate, ignorance, and desire. All to appease someone that literally lied to you, stole from you and left you to die," A number of them slightly lowered their weapons as the resolve eroded upon his words. "Those from Texas know what I'm talking about," Memories of the 2021 winter freeze remained fresh. "Let me ask you a question. Are you going to lay down your lives for someone that viewed the deaths of over a million people as an acceptable loss for political gain?" Alex asked as reporters did their stories for the evening news. "You already sacrificed everything. Your jobs, relationships, and social standings for people who were willing to take all of your basic rights for a few extra commas in their bank accounts," Soft tears rolled on their faces as he continued. "However, due to your actions in the past month. You're going to jail," Alex revealed to the group reforging the steel in their spines, gesturing their weapons at him with fearfully determined glares. More agents got ready in sniper positions in nearby buildings. His intercom received several confirmations.
Even more, agents were on standby at various locations waiting for their orders and the signal. "If you surrender, lay down your weapons and come peacefully. You'll have a swift and easy trial," He offered as they whispered amongst themselves before narrowing his eyes at them. "Your other option is to fight us, but that'll leave you guys in a body bag," The pressure grew thicker as members on both sides fingers twitched at the ready. Licking their lips with sweat traveling down their necks. "Hurry up since we operate on a first-come, first-serve policy," Alex advised when he got a message from Cristina. She's on the move
The redhead casually amidst the chaotic inside on the top floor. Everyone scrambled to find their squads and prepare for the incoming battle. Her eyes scanned the hallway as they hid behind doors and sandbags. She watched one man puking his guts out while another rubbed his back with their guns strapped around their waist. More men and women sobbed with their heads greeting knees as they spoiled their pants. Cristina continued her mission holding a pie in her oven mitted covered hands ignoring the hectic whispers suggesting that they take the offer and get out of here. She passed Haiku sharing a look before nodding on a door.
"Good evening, your highness," Cristina greeted sweetly, hiding the bile and distaste in her voice. A bearded man in templar armor sat behind a desk observing the outside from his computer screen.
"Good evening, milady," He greeted. That word sullied her ears, yet she must remain focused. "We have a mighty battle ahead of us. Someone that'll be remembered for ages," He held his fist in the air in a dramatic fashion. She paced to his side, watching the events unfold. A woman pushed a man off of her allowing her to rush down the stairs. More followed her. The crowd screamed as the man shot the woman, followed by a chorus of rifles targeting those that decided to run. "Good. We have no need for traitors or cowards in my realm," Her eyes grew frigid at his callous comment. They watched them bled out on the steps with their companions, desperately trying to get them to open their eyes and get up.
The firefight continued while a sniper shot took out the man. His armored hand grabbed a slice of the cherry pie while another slid up her dress. "A king can't fight on an empty stomach. Maybe you can help me relieve some stress," He guffawed with his mouth full before unleashing a fit of hefty coughs. Cristina coldly observed as he desperately clutched his throat. She stepped away as he attempted to reach for her. He collapsed from the chair while the color drained from his face as he gagged and thrashed on the floor. Cristina crouched, covering his mouth and nose with her mittened hands. His fingers clawed at her gorgeous face attempting to defend himself, struggling with all of his might. He's a king, yes, but he's a fat and lazy king. Granted vast power with no responsibility forcing everyone to do the work for him and taking all of the credit. He deemed women as lower than him, but here's a woman draining the life from his stressed lungs.
"Shhhhhh sweet prince go to sleep," Cristina mocked as the struggling grew weaker and the light faded from his eyes. It stopped. She handled her grip for a few more seconds just for good measure. Gunshots erupted from the laptop. The party got started. Cristina rose, stepping over the still-warm corpse. Law enforcement charged the stairs as the insurrectionists fled into the building, leaving some of their comrades arrested and escorted. Cristina reached into her pocket. "The king is down. Sending the information now," She replied into her device, listening to frantic orders and instructions
"Copy that, Mary Jane," Alexandria responded. "We're almost at the door. You better find somewhere safe,"
Haiku nodded as she sprinted towards an obscure corridor. A steel door with two armed guards was at the end of it. They pointed their guns at her while she calmly walked towards them. Haiku stopped. The pair glanced at each other before saluting Haiku, revealing their Lamanda-6 pacts to her.
"At ease," Haiku ordered, allowing them to put their hands down. "Status report," She placed her hands behind her back with the grace of a queen.
"The hostages were still down there," Guard one answered
"But we better be quick as some of them were down there," Guard two winched. "And they're looking for some fun or payback," Haiku inhaled slowly.
"Hold the door," She commanded to the two. They nodded before using their key card to open the door. Haiku removed her heels before the heavy door slammed behind her. Their rifles were packed and ready, with eyes filled with duty and purpose. They have their orders. Hold the door and get these bastards.
The journey down to the basement was quiet as the chaos upstairs grew fainter with each step. Rhythmic water droplets echoed from the earlier rain echoed throughout. Cold and dark. She preferred it like that but not today. Her silent footsteps allowed her easy travel. "No, please," A shrill, desperate cry from a woman cursed her ears
"Yeah, baby, keep struggling like the whore you are. It won't be fun otherwise," A slimy voice mocked and taunted
"Come on, turn that frown upside down," His friend chimed in, wanting his turn already. A pair of soft hands clutched his neck.
"You first," Haiku suggested before swiftly and smoothly rotating his neck, making his chin point to the ceiling. He collapsed the cold hard concrete before snatching his pistol.
"What the fuck," The pig muttered, turning around when Haiku shot him in the shoulder. Both he and the girl screeched at the blood gushing from the wound. He crawled away from Haiku, pushing hard at the wound, staining his hand with liquid scarlet. Haiku focused her aim directly at him until he planted his back against the wall. "No, please don't kill me," He pleaded with tears and snot rushing down his cheeks, releasing any courage he may have had in a puddle. Coward. So eager to kill yet terrified of being killed yourself. "Yeah, what I did was wrong, but you don't know what it's like to be rejected for your entire life," Haiku rolled her eyes. Great the motive rant. An illogical and feeble rant on how everything they did was justified. She took another step making to get this over and done with. Me too, Haiku, me too. "But I'll do everything and anything to make up for it. Jail, community service, rehab, house arrest, therapy," He listed off whatever he could to appease her. Nothing work, given by her empty gaze. "Come on, won't kill me, right?" Silent. His lips quivered with a trembling voice. "Right?!"
"Wrong," Haiku answered, firing another shot at the center of his forehead, splattering his blood, grey matter, and bone against the wall. His body went limp. She rummaged through his pockets, finding another key card and a standard hunting knife. More sobbing coming from the girl. Haiku shushed and comforted the girl leaving her in the room. Another door. What is this a fetch quest? Technically yes, Haiku. She swiped the card revealing another guard smoking a cigarette where more hostages were held.
"Who the fuck are yo-," She demanded in a gruff voice when Haiku pierced her neck, dragging across unless jets of crimson staining her face. The guard gurgled on her blood before Haiku kicked her off. Two other guards their weapons at her before she shot out the light bulb enveloping the room in darkness. Her domain. They heard two thuds before she found a flashlight revealing their frightened faces while others held meager defiance. Oh lord, were most of them even wearing clothes?
"Are you here to rescue us?" A frail voice pleaded
"Yes, my name is Haiku Forrester. I'm from the Hammer Down initiative, specifically the White rabbits," Haiku revealed as their eyes were filled with hope. She's from Hammer Down? Some wept with joy. Finally, they were free. "My colleagues are on the upper levels taking them down," She glared at the corpses when some of them stood up.
"We can help," They offered. Haiku shook her head.
"My job is to ensure your safety," The goth replied. They scavenged the body, grabbing whatever weapons they could find. Man, one of the bodies had over five guns on them.
"Allow us to ease the load," She was saluted by three of them. Haiku nodded before cupping her ear.
"This is Shadow Queen. The hostages in the underground bunker are secured," Haiku remarked.
"Excellent work. Stand-by. Athena is about to breach the doors," Agent Cunningham replied. Haiku placed her hands together
"Hail Medea, patron of scorned women. Hail, Hera, goddess of women. Hail, Athena, goddess of wisdom and heroes. Grant us your protection, wisdom, and fury against these traitors and oathbreakers,"
A platoon of FBI, law enforcement, and Hammer Down agents stood on the sides of the barricaded entrance. The windows were boarded up too. Another detachment scouted around, searching for more entry points. A duo of Hammer Down agents repeatedly slammed their breaching tool into the reinforced door. Each thunderous strike rumbled throughout the hall, eroding the defender's resolve as the door cracked open for a fraction of a second, revealing the terrified eyes of discovered rats. Muffed chatter of surrender was silenced with a harsh bark. Alexandria marched up the stairs bearing a riot shield displaying a stylized white rabbit on the front. They'll know who's coming for them. Her obsidian tactical armor serviced her well for the years, protecting her against bullets, stabs, and shrapnel. She gazed at her stoic team as they patiently waited to storm the building. Don't worry, it'll soon come.
"How are we looking there, Kat?" Alexandria remarked her old schoolmate. Kat grunted as she rammed her breaching tool into the door again.
"A few more hits, and we're in," Kat explained in her black and grey standard tactical armor with a slight red accent. The door was wide enough for three people at a time. Alexandria gestured for more to join her. Two flanked to her side as more lined up behind them. "Last one, are you guys ready?!" She shouted. Several nodded to confirm. "Three!" Last-minute check on their weapons. "Two!" Kat brought her tool back for one last ram before nodding to Joy. It's now or never. "ONE!"
"Come on, you little shits, hurry up," A three percenter barked orders to scramming members. She has short wild red hair, numerous tattoos, and a tall, solid build. "Get into position," She grumbled as she fastened her bulletproof vest. They abandoned the front door with their tails between their legs. Her training as a former police officer whipped some of them into shape. But noooo, they wanted her to take the poison vaccine. She received several nods and thumbs-up from other members with their rifles, pistols, shotguns aimed at the front doors waiting behind cover. A steady countdown from behind the doors reached her ears. "O.H. shit, get ready, everyone," She yelled into her megaphone and radio. They stood ready for whatever charged through that door when something flew over her head. The hell? Her brown eyes widened in alarm. "Oh fuck a flashbang" They covered their eyes and ears as a bright deafening flash engulfed the hallway.
"ONE!" The door burst opened revealing an unyielding shield wall with Alexandria at the center marching through the hallway
"Open fire," someone shouted in a panic, unleashing a hail of bullets at their shields, tickling them. They continued their slow advance, withstanding the assault. Several rebels' hearts sank into the pits of their bellies. They're not stopping! "Return fire. Wedge formation" Alexandria commanded the unit. She increased her pace forming the tip of the spear. Her finger squeezed the trigger of her pistol, firing several shots in a precise fashion. They followed her action. Each shot was cold and calculated where the enemies were wild and unfocused, relying on spray and pray tactics. The rebels continued their pitiful attack behind the feeble defenses. More of them fell with their traitorous blood staining the tile floor. Others whispered in fear on what to do.
"Retreat. Fall back," The three percenter fretted while firing her pistol before a bullet zipped through her skull. Her body twitched on the floor for a brief second. The hammer has been brought down on the guilty. They abandoned their collogues with their weapons in a mad dash down the hall going in various directions screaming all the way. More woke up in a daze with ringing ears, viewing in a white blur only for them to be placed into custody.
"Status report," Alexandria spoke as they did a quick scope of the corridor assessing any damages.
"No wounded on our side but twenty-four dead or wounded for them," Joy analyzed to her. She pulled out a laptop for more intel typical technical support "Jamming and disrupting their communications now."
"Entrance hallway is secure," Alexandria retorted to her communication device. The hallway divides into three paths. Left, right, and center. She issued several quick hands. They nodded before splitting off into groups stepping down their respective hallway
The process was slow and meticulous, clearing out each room one by one. God, some of them were utterly disgusting. She raided drug houses even they weren't as bad. They found a room with a group playing video games, forcing them to drag the hermits out in the open. Expect one. Agents yelled and poked one of them for being unresponsive. They flipped the body and checked the vitals. No pulse while being cold to the touch. Fuck they were playing with their friend's corpse. Either they didn't know or didn't care. They should be reaching the conference hall.
"Halt!" A man in make-shift crusader armor wielding a sword and shield stood before them. They stopped before the man with a shield wall behind him. Okay, what the fuck is?! "Send me your champion in an honorable one-on-one combat," Oh god, we're really doing this! "Who shall…face…me?" His voice softened immediately as Alexandria's loomed over him. She titled her head him. "I yield," He dropped his weapons. An agent placed cuffed on him before pointing at the wall.
"Who's next," Alexandria taunted. They smirked at her voice. A woman. Several stepped forward with shields and hammers. She glanced at the emblems. Mjornir and Stormbeaker.
"We will! Come on, brothers!" They charged at him as she sighed. Alexandria slammed her riot shield across one of their jaws, knocking them out as teeth launched from their mouth. She dodged a swing before grabbing a wrist and headbutting them. They clutched their bloody broken nose when she rammed her steel-toed boot in their crotch. He groaned gutturally while lying on the floor. Another attempted strike to Alexandria from behind, but her teammates shot the assailant in the thigh. He tripped and fell while clutching his gushing wound with gritted teeth.
"After them," Alexandria ordered before charging in. They followed their commanding officer with a battle roar. The LARPs hesitantly stepped back while those in the back row fled. She broke through their 'shield wall' with ease creating a gap for them to rush through. " The conference hall is this way!" Alexandria raised her shield before charging at the door.
"Open the door. Open the fucking door!" A pair of insurrectionists rapidly beat on the door, demanding their so-called friends. "Dude, please!" She quickened her pace, shield ready. It shattered on impact, hanging loosely on its hinges. Her unit steamrolled through any opposition they faced. Most didn't put up a fight as their hands were in the air while being rounded up.
"Oh, shit, we got company on the upper level!" An FBI agent shouted, aiming his submachine at the staircase. He fired quick bursts at the terrorists who returned fire. They covered behind the desks and wooden benches. She signaled two nearby agents. They nodded as she stood up, returning, suppressing fire. Her shield blocked any bullet targeted at her during the firefight. She grunted when one impacted her shoulder. One charged her from behind with a primal yell holding a serrated knife. Alexandria rotated towards it, but the yelling stopped. The knife-wielder trembling hand clasped their chest found nothing but empty space and bloody fingertips. They collapsed with vacant eyes revealing Haiku holding a shotgun now in black and purple tactical armor with her hair in a tight bun
"Hey, Haiku," Alexandria smiled at her teammate.
"Greeting, Alexandria," Haiku smiled back as more task forces searched through the building. "I brought some friends," She gestured to the rescued police officers who assisted the agents. They witnessed a pair hugging each other, wiping the dirt and grime from her face. "Conference hall clear," Haiku talked into her radio.
"Roger that, Haiku," Joy answered. "The second floor, bathrooms, kitchen, dorms, and bunker are all clear," She calculated to the contentment. It's almost over.
"Some of those fuckers escaped to the mall using back entrances or abandoning their allies," Kat growled. Oh, fuck the mall. They haven't heard a word from Lincoln since the raid. "Shit, is Lincoln okay?"
"Don't worry. If we know Lincoln, then he has a plan," Haiku grinned with Alexandria
Alarms blared throughout the mall as they scrambled for anything they could grab. This isn't good. Keith's eyes were wide in confusion. What's going on? Is there something that he can do? He paused his thoughts for a moment contemplating his options. Should he leave? There's nothing left for him anyways. Fighting is out of the question. Keith is a high school student who never used and fired a gun against a united and organized professional group with bigger and better guns.
"Keith, what the fuck are you still doing here?!" Carl shouted with sweat and blood coating his face as his heart accelerated to the max. "We have to get out of here!" He grabbed the boy's arm.
"What going on?!" Keith fretted while being dragged away.
"Are you fucking stupid or some shit?!" Carl reached into his pockets and turned on his phone. "It's trending on Twitter," He showed a series of videos of an assembly line of their allies being placed into several paddy vans. They tore their flags and banner, placing them in burning barrels. The United States flag was raised on top of the building once more where it belongs as the crowd cheered. "We need to get out of here, but first," Carl took his Glock and went to prison cells. Now, where is that fucking chad, Leon? There he was, gazing at his palm bore to the world. "Today's the days, you fucking bitch!" He cackled with feral excitement.
Lincoln didn't look at him. "Six, five, four, three," He counted down. What the fuck is he doing? Carl thought to himself. "Two, one…" Lincoln smirked as the lights were cut off. The darkness engulfed the mall. Carl shot wildly into the cell. Nothing? He's not in the cell. Where did he fucking go? Several streaks of light emerged from the ground floor.
"Carl, here's a flashlight," A fellow knight handed one to him and one to Keith. The cell door swung with his keys in the lock.
"Oh fuck, he's here," Someone barked before they randomly fired into the darkness. Every shot missed as something quickly took them down. Carl watched his friends groan on the hard floor. One was on their knees with praying hands and streaming tears. His headlamp showed an orange shirt holding a gun against his head.
"Wait, please no" Another pleaded for their life when a gunshot echoed, rendering them silent. Blood spattered on Lincoln's shirt as it pooled under the body. His haunting frozen sapphire eyes glowed, daring him to do something. Carl grabbed Keith's rifle aiming at it Lincoln before squeezing the trigger. It roared as the bullets scarred the ground, following Lincoln as he evaded the volley. Lincoln sprinted and zigged-zagged throughout the food court. At the same time, they took cover, attempting to shield themselves from the madman shooting his own men. The rifle ran dry with several clicks.
"Hand me a magazine," Carl growled with his finger still on the trigger.
"You used my only one," Keith retorted.
"Fucking useless as always," Carl grumbled. "Freddy, hand me a magazine," His hands were still empty. Keith shined his flashlight on Freddy, slumped over the railing. "Come on, dude, now it is not the time to sleep," He paced over, shaking him. No response. "Freddy," Carl shook him some more before slowly widening his eyes. They flipped him over. A crimson stream flowed down his neck with empty eyes. Something was on Freddy's chest. A note. "Hey, Carl, check the back of your right shoulder," His voice quaked while reading the message. He did. An ace of spades?
"Oh, I was looking for that," Lincoln's calm voice appeared from behind, whispering in Carl's ears. He jumped from the sudden appearance. "Sup," Lincoln replied casually while leaning against the railing. Carl pushed Keith out of the way to give him a headstart as he ran and wheezed away like a banshee. Keith followed too. Lincoln observed the lanterns of the scurrying ants attempting to flee their punishment. Indiscriminate chatter and heavy footsteps rumbled throughout the mall. One of the double doors opened to their relief with them, basking in the stellar moonlight. "It's time to end this," He said before walking off with his hands behind his head.
The horde still holding their weapons and flags slipped out the exit as they marched towards the parking lot. Frightened whispers spread among the various groups. What were they going to do? Should they fight or flee? "Everyone head to the schools. We'll make our last stand there!" Carl shouted as they paced to their vehicles. Some of them paused. The fuck do you mean that's where we'll make our last stand?!
"We can't. They just recaptured the schools," someone in the crowd acknowledged. They checked their phones, finding videos of people embracing each other and sobbing while their allies were in restraints hanging their heads.
"Aw man, they're heading this way!" Panic spread like a virus with that statement. Several broke from the crowd and rushed to the parking lot. Flashing headlights and beeping signaled access allowing them to enter. A symphony of roaring inferno shook the area. They shielded their faces from the heat with the explosion pushing them back. Pained wailing of flaming bodies cursed their ears, watching them as their bodies melted with charred skin trying to put out the fire. They continued to watch until it stopped. A figure marched through flame and smog. The same blue eyes stared at the whimpering shivering crowd. They started to shoot at this monster, only for the bullets to bounce off like a rubber ball. He continued his march before standing before the crowd until their magazines went dry. This demon wore black and vermillion tactical armor, yet it was more futuristic aesthetic to it. Similar to clone trooper or Mandalorian armor. Unfortunately for them, his gear is the real deal while theirs is simply pretending.
"Good evening, everyone," He bellowed to the crowd huddling together at the booming voice. "This is your final chance to stand down and come peacefully," Lincoln ordered with sirens approaching. Carl grabbed Keith placing his gun against the young boy's head who's heart dropped at the cold metal.
"NEVER! I'm not going back," Carl yelled, holding Keith tightly. "Stay fucking still. You're my ticket out of here," He fumed at the whimpering boy, only for Lincoln to grab the gun crushing it. Carl released Keith with trembling steps back to the crowd as his jaw quivered at the broken weapon. Lincoln matched his pace leaving the boy behind.
"I said stand down," Lincoln commanded again. Carl sweated with fear as his heartbeat accelerated to blinding speeds. He hyperventilated against the empty stare of someone that already decided his fate.
"No, please don't hurt me," Carl begged before clutching his constricting chest, unleashing a fit of sickly coughs. His body quaked for brief moments before falling face-first on the pavement with his ass in the air. A lengthy squeaky fart echoed. Lincoln facepalmed while shaking his head. He stepped over Carl's body.
"What's your answer," Lincoln addressed the crowd again. Some reached their weapons against again. There are at least over a hundred of them and one of him. This should be easy. The roaring blades of an overhead helicopter draw their attention to the sky. Numerous spotlights focused on their position, shielding their vision. Armored vehicles crashed through the parking lot with several squads rushing out with their guns drawn standing behind Lincoln. Mulitple news vans broadcasted the suspenseful standoff. Members of the crowd nodded before pointing their weapons at them, revealing several mobile task force symbols. They had traitors in their ranks?! Slowly, they placed their guns on the ground before putting their hands in the air as they marched in a single file line. Lincoln reached for his flare gun, firing an orange smoke flare into the sky. His allies smiled and cheered, viewing the thick orange smoke.
Mission complete.
"Aw man, no smut this chapter," Lisa grumbled with her empty bowl. "At least this one is longer and more action-packed," She shrugged. "I wonder if it'll continue after this or go to the next reality,"
Sorry guys but no smut in this chapter besides some mild nudity. Don't worry I'll make it up in part two so sit tight until then. Make sure that you place your votes in.
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