"This just in: Nationwide controversy has ensued over the shooting spree in a small village in Madhya Pradesh, India. Not only has the shooter somehow acquired military-grade weapons and equipment, but the shooter also appears to be...a child. Indeed, the shooter seems to be barely approaching their teenage years as they stormed a village and shot a total of 28 people, killing 16 in the process. However, the village was engaged in what appeared to be a ritual humiliation after a six-year-old girl was raped by five men. She was strung up and paraded around her village, a series of actions that caused equal amounts of outrage of India and many to believe that this shooting was, and I quote, "the Wrath of God against Men." So who was right and who was wrong in their pursuit of justice?"

The person watching the news frowned at the question posed by the reporter, but refused to turn off the TV when his mind found itself pondering it. He did turn his attention to his laptop, which he used to research recently committed crimes. Some were simple and straightforward, such as the typical gas station robbery, disorderly conduct, and vandalism; others were far more operose and obstreperous such as fanatical fraud, harrassment plus loitering, and possessions of drugs or weapons. And then there were the more tedious to tackle: child porn, drug/weapon trafficking, and terroristic genocide.

That's when he stepped in.

Receiving a message from his laptop, he opened it up and read it, smirking with each word that was typed. Feeling particularly peckish for potent pitilessness on this present pitch-black point, he got up from his spot on the bed and walked over to the closet. Inside were a set of six black-and-white tuxedos, three bulletproof vests, and an assortment of various weapoms. This included but not limited to a Japanese Wakizashi, a Cold Steel Counter Tac 1, a SIG-Sauer P226R, a 3rd Generation Glock 17, a 3rd Generation Glock 19, a blued Walther PPK/S, and a Remington 870 MCS Masterkey. How he managed to acquire firearms around his age remains a mystery to this day, but why he managed to acquire firearms around his age was a different story entirely.

Preparing his weapons, equipment, and tuxedo for the party tonight, he got dressed in the latter object while placing the latter objects in a duffel bag until he reached his destination. He left the TV on but lowered down the volume to give off the impression that he was still there while respecting his fellow hotel guests. As he left his room to go to work, the news in India eventually transitioned to news in United States, specifically a small town in Michigan, as the case of a missing child went virtually noticed by everyone and anyone including the law enforcement or news reporters.

"In other news, the disappearance of Lincoln Loud has plagued the city of Royal Woods and turned his family into social pariahs. Deemed missing since the start of the summer season, Lincoln's sudden disappearance and the circumstances surrounding it have cast a shadow over the city and have many a citizen and officer on edge. As such, time curfews have been assigned and neighborhood watches have been formed as a result. We'll bring new information as we acquire it. From Royal Woods, ABC7 News, this is Katherine Mulligan saying good night and God Bless...America..."

He headed downstairs to one of the emergency exits to avoid being spotted by the front lobby and their many security cameras. Opening the door to head outside, it was there where he spotted a greyish-black surveillance van with red stripes speeding towards the curb, all the while dangerously being to swerving and flipping over. It thankfully slowed down to a stop right beside him, who watched as the passenger side window lowered down for the passenger in question to peer out to him.

The passenger in question was a female teenager with white sclera, red irises, right ear piercings, and a half-shaven head (specifically the right side). Her main outfit was a black biker jacket above a sleeveless black turtleneck with a pentagram-style cleavage window, fingerless gloves, a red high-waisted skirt that the turtleneck was tucked into, black knee-high socks, high-top sneakers, and a spiked choker. It was most definitely the outfit of choice for a young, vulnerable goth girl...but this particular goth girl was anything but vulnerable.

"Hi, sis."

The goth girl softly smiled despite herself and nodded back as the person who was her sister.

"Hi, kid. You ready to go?"

"I got my guns, my breath mints, and...my condoms."

"Now that's my adoptive grandson," The driver called out over the gothic passenger, indeed proud of his adoptive grandson. He pressed a button that allowed the right side sliding door to open. Inside sat two adults (their early 30s at the most), one male and the other female. The male was light-skinned with unusually white hair, blue eyes, a pair of red square-framed glasses, a plain black suit and red bowtie, and a pair of black dress shoes. The female was dark-skinned with brown hair, brown eyes, a black suit and tie with a white shirt, and a pair of black dress shoes much like her partner.

"Hey, sweetie," The woman smiled warmly at him as he entered inside the van, taking a seat beside the man as he closed the door, "Are you nervous?"

"A little..."

"You'll do fine, kiddo," The man patted him on the shoulder for reassurance, "First missions always involve first mistakes. You turn those mistakes into lessons so you don't repeat them again."

"This coming from the person who didn't kill a murderous, Satanic cannibal and her family when he had the choice," The goth girl snarked from the passenger seat, causing the boy's eyebrows to knit together in confusion and him to turn to the man for an explanation.

"It's a long story," The man cringed at her remark while he checked his Glock 17, "That was me making a mistake and learning from it."

"I sure hope so, Mox..." The driver chuckled as he drove the group to their destination. He was slightly older than the couple in the back and significantly older than the goth girl in the front. He had tan skin, amber eyes, brown hair with a single white streak (a skunk stripe, if you will), and a black suit and tie with dress shoes much like his two associates.

The boy watched in comfortable silence as the driver and the man bickered back-and-forth with the two girls occasionally pitching in the conversation. He waited patiently and nervously for the arrival at their destination. A 90-minute drive at the most, he decided to take a nap to pass the time.

When he closed his eyes...

Memories began to flood open...

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Hey, kid..."

. . .

"You okay, kid?"

. . .

"Blink if you can hear me, kid."

Lincoln's eyes indeed blinked open and the first thing he saw was...a werewolf? It has feminine-like features, leading him to assume that this particular one was a female, and a very tall one at that. She had a dog-like muzzle with sharp, pointy teeth; a dark grey nose; red sclera with white irises; white fur with grey patches on her shoulders; a big bushy tail; and voluminous grey hair swept to the side to reveal her ears. The left ear had two piercings (complimented by the right eyebrow piercing) while the right was torn up. Her outfit primarily consisted of a grey crop top with strings that resembled an inverted pentagram to hold it up, a black choker that has white spikes, black shorts with a crescent moon cut on the right side, fingerless gloves, and black toeless stockings.

But despite the intimidating appearance, there was something in her red-and-white eyes that seemed to radiate a sense of security and comfort. It was a hint that there was more to this wolf than the surface above suggested; beneath the surface was a much more warm and mellow creature with a hidden heart of gold buried deep...and we mean very deep.

As such, Lincoln blinked again in response to the werewolf's question.

"Okay, good," The female werewolf nodded as she proceeded to halfheartedly check his vitals, "Now that I know you can hear...can you speak?"

"Y-Yes," Lincoln stammered out after a moment, still processing the fact that a werewolf was talking to him.

"Good again," The werewolf nodded again, "It makes things a lot easier for us then. So...do you know what I am and/or where you are?"

Glancing around to take in his surroundings, Lincoln eventually shrugged, "Well, where I'm at looks like a really crappy apartment building that looks like it hasn't been cleaned up in years. What you are... Aren't you a werewolf?"

She smirked in amusement and shook her head, "A common misconception. I'm actually a hellhound. Very similar, but very different at the same time."

Oh, a hellhound. I remember Lisa giving Lola, Lana, and Lucy a lecture on the differences between werewolves and hellhounds a few Halloweens ago.

. . .

Wait a minute, hellhounds belong in Hell. Does this mean...

"Does this mean..."

The hellhound's smile faltered as she nodded solemnly.

"Yes, kid. You're in Hell."

His eyes widening in horror, shock, and denial now, Lincoln immediately shot off the bed and towards the nearest window in order to discover the truth for himself, only for him to stumble and fall down in pain. Glancing down at his left leg, he then recalled Lana's alligator-wrestling contest that put him out of commission for the meantime.

Watching this, the hellhound approached and carried Lincoln, supporting him as he ambled toward the window. As she pulled back the curtains for him, he gasped in horror, shock, and denial again.

So, where to start? The city landscape was heavily polluted; substantial smoke seeped out of peaked power plants, broken down beyond repair. The rest of the buildings were not that much better, sharing the abnormal architectural aesthetic of dark, depressing, and downright dangerous; the billboards that many of them held up often promoted unsavory topics related to crime and violence. such as black market firearms, illegal drugs, and underage prostitution. The occupants who lived within them were...appropriately hellish. Many of the demons shared a distinctive animal motif, ranging from spiders to deer, but the most reccurring type of demon was the one where possibly Satan himself had multiple offspring.

For a bit of context, these demons had red skin, yellow eyes, varying horns, and an arrow-shaped tail. Their red skin were provided with strong contrasts in the form of black-and-white details, markings, stripes and blotches while the yellow scleras of their eyes were ampilified by black slit pupils and sometimes visible red irises. They also varied in terms of shape and size, although the most common ones appeared to be around the same height as an average human adult, but with many of them being significantly shorter. The male variants had white hair while the female variants had black hair; some of them even appeared to be bald. Speaking of which, compared to their main bodies, most of their heads were really large and adorned with reptilian characteristics, such as a lack of ears and noses; nostrils could be visible, but just barely. Their teeth were sharp and conical while their tongues were forked like that of a normal snake. Their arms and legs were either that of plantigrade or digigrade, often with hooves or claws, which are usually black.

In short, these demons resembled the Devil...or how he or she was often portrayed in the human media.

His heart now racing and his breath now labored, Lincoln backed away from the window (and, by the extension, the hellhound) in fear and stumbled over again in the process, landing on his backside before backing up against the wall and hugging his knees.

Her ears perking up at the sound of him softly sobbing, the hellhound sighed and carefully approached him, not wanting him to break down twice in a row. Leaning against the wall and sliding down beside him, she patiently waited until he calmed down to explain.

"You didn't die, though."

Lincoln's head slowly craned up before turning to her, who waited until he decided to say something before clarifying further when he did not.

"I brought you here because of your leg injury. I wanted to bring you to a normal hospital, but there wasn't any time left. Plus, my...dad and his friends don't have insurance. Sorry if it was an inconvenience to you."

Nodding in understanding, Lincoln frowned in sympathy.

"It wasn't. It's just that...I had a fight with my family not long ago because...they thought I was useless. Worthless. A burden to bear...and they were right... I wished that I would be gone because of it. I didn't think...my wish would come true..."

Her heart wrenching due to Lincoln's confession, the hellhound pulled him close and hugged him tight. The action alarmed the young boy, who eventualyl calmed down and melted into the embrace, which was made somewhat sweeter by her surprisingly soft fur.

"It's okay, kid. You're safe and sound. You don't have to scared anymore."

. . .

"Lincoln."

"Hmm?"

"My name is Lincoln."

. . .

"My name is Loona."

. . .

"Huh."

"What is it?"

"I have an older sister named Luna."

"Spelled with an 'O' or an 'U'? "

"An 'U'."

"She's the lucky one, then. I didn't ask to be named after a K-Pop Band or a Dutch pop singer."

Lincoln and Loona shared a chuckle over the joke, a moment that lasted little longer than it should...until it did not.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Loona's "dad" entered the room, a bundle of joy plastered on his face.

"AW! That's so adora-!"

"NO!"

"SIR, WAIT!"

Two more people, presumably the friends of Loona's "dad", burst in after him, dogpiling him to prevent him from ruining the admittedly beautiful moment even further. All of them shared the traits by the main demons of the city: red skin, yellow eyes, varying horns, and an arrow-shaped tail.

Her "father" was a very lanky jester-like imp with a pointed tail with wide-proportioned hands, pointed feet with a boot-like heel, and a narrow head with curved horns. His eyes had black lines running down the eyelids while his sclera was yellow with a red iris. He had crimson skin with trace white blotches that covered his right eye and the tip of his tail, black-and-white striped horns with black spines between them running to his tail, black stripes around his tail, and a heart-shaped skull symbol resting on his forehead. His outfit of choice was a torn black collared coat with red buttons, black boots (incidentally sharing the same shape as his feet), large black gloves with yellow eyes on them, and a red skull charm around his neck.

The two friends were male and female, respectively. The former had red skin, white freckles on his cheeks, white pointy hair which led up to curvy black and white striped horns, yellow sclera with black slit pupils, a long red thin tail with a quadrilateral barb at the end, and lanky digitigrade legs ending in what appears to be cloven red hooves, reminiscent of artiodactyls. His outfit of choice consisted of a navy-black coat with red buttons and white cuffs, black pants, a white shirt that has a black turtleneck, a large red bow-tie, and fingerless gloves.

The latter had a long tail with white markings. She had long black eyelashes that extend beyond the sides of her hair, two black horns with three thin white stripes and greyish-black hair worn in a messy bob style and bangs that cover half of her right horn, a beauty mark on her left cheek, a gap between her front teeth (which were flatter than the sharp conical teeth most of the other demons had), a more human-like head (albeit still without a nose), a black heart-shaped tattoo on her right shoulder, and two white splotches on the insides and outsides of each of her elbows. Her outfit of choice consisted of a cold-shoulder black crop top with gold buttons where the straps at the top meet the torso piece, torn black pants, fingerless black gloves, a simple black choker, black lipstick, and black footwear that does not cover her hoof-like toes.

Much like the case of Loona, the trio seemed friendly enough despite their intimidating appearance, although whether it was genuine or for her sake, Lincoln did not know in the slightest.

"AW! He is a cutie," The female awed and waved hello at Lincoln, who smiled and waved back, not knowing what to do.

"Don't be afraid, kid," The male tried to reassure Lincoln as he pulled himself and the female up, "We're the...good guys, if you will."

"If you see running an assassination agency as a noble and honorable profession," Loona's father snarked nonchalantly, much to Lincoln's surprise.

"Wait, how does that even work? I mean, we're already in Hell; where do the people you kill go after they die?"

The male and the female exchanged surprise over the level of blunt maturity demonstrated by Lincoln. Loona's father, meanwhile, merely chuckled in admiration and leaned down to his level.

"Kiddo, you'd be surprised. But actually, we kill humans in the living world on behalf on the people turned demons who ended up here because of them. Think of it as a "Pay Evil Unto Evil" type of business."

Lincoln processed the words said to him and nodded in understanding before realizing something else.

"Then where do they go when they die? Double Hell?"

"Ha! Usually the Exorcists take care of that little problem the same way we do, except they're far less subtle. You see, Hell suffers from an overpopulation problem and they have the solution."

"Genocide?"

"Random. Random genocide, kiddo. There's a difference. Despite us being devils, we have a moral code unlike those self-righteous assholes from high above."

. . .

"Do you?"

"Well, of course not. But we at least try to kill the people we were hired to kill. The Exorcists just straight-up murder and massacre everyone left and right, willy-nilly. But..."

Loona's father slowly stood up, "That's another sordid story for another time, kiddo. In the meantime, take this time to recuperate while we find a place for you to stay."

"Blitz is right," Loona helped Lincoln up, "You need to rest until we find a more suitable place for you to reside in for the meantime."

"I can't sleep here?"

"Well, unless you want to sleep in a spider, rat, and cockroach-infested hellhole, no pun intended..."

Taking a single, brief glance around the establishment was all Lincoln needed to unanimously agree with Loona and her father (Blitz...?)

"Touche. Also, Blitz?"

"That would be me, kiddo," The very lanky jester-like imp who was Loona's father properly introduced himself with an outstretched hand for Lincoln to shake, "The name's Blitzo. The 'O' is silent. And these are my associates, Moxxie and Millie."

"Lincoln. Lincoln Loud," Lincoln smiled despite himself as he took the hands of Blitzo, Moxxie, and Millie before subsequently shaking them in greeting.

"Come on, kiddo," Blitzo beckoned him to come along, "Let's get you and ourselves some pizza, cheeseburgers, or whatever the kids consider food these days."

"I thought you said I had to rest or...recuperate?"

"Yes," Moxxie nodded while frowning, "Our boss is prone to contradicting himself or changing his mind depending on the mood he is currently in."

"And we wouldn't have him any other way," Millie smiled warmly while practically pulling Moxxie along with her, cheerfully rambling on as she did.

Staring in bewilderment at the sight of a trio of literal hellish demons exchanging lighthearted, witty banter like old friends, Lincoln turned back to Loona, who merely shrugged and formed a crooked grin as she gestured with her thumb toward the door. Slowly returning the smile, Lincoln took Loona by the hand and followed them out of the room. As he did, he thought to himself.

Was this a curse...or a blessing?

"Dear Family... Dear Former Family... If you're reading this, then it means I am long gone or hopefully worse by now. All of my life thus far has been nothing but absolute Hell. I have been dealing with everything you guys throw at me and the aftermath of it. I took the blame when we were at the supermarket... I got punched in the eye when I have my love life meddled with... I got outnumbered when the stupid Sister Fight Protocol is being put on...and I took the heat for Lucy and her stupid Princess Pony book!"

"Some people say I have thick skin, skin like iron. But iron can be dented over time, and it's gotten to the point the limit where I can't take it anymore. I'm sorry, but I'm done with this! I lied about being bad luck so I can have some alone time because I have a large family. And a large family more often than not means a large amount of special events that I have to attend for you guys. And when something special to me arrives, none of you ever give me the benefit of the doubt. You all fell in deep in Lynn's superstitions. All you guys care about is luck and what good it brings, and when bad luck comes, I am the one to blame. I trusted some of you, if not all, to look past this and come to a realization. I really did. Especially you, Luna. I thought we had a close bond, but I know that bond was broken the moment you sided with the rest of them. Now? Now I'm disgusted that my blood was shared with you. You who are nothing more than child abusing monsters.

I was given no chance to even get out of this nightmare you tailor-made for me. You gave me no chance to explain myself, to explain the truth. A wise person once said: The bitter truth is better than the sweetest lies. So, if you guys don't want bad luck... A brother... or a son... then so be it. I don't know where to go, what to do, or even who to turn to...but I can rest well now knowing that you will all be happy with the rest of your lives, now that I'm no longer part of this family."

So... So long, good riddance, and good luck having no brother... No son... No bad luck in your life. Maybe I will find my own life, even if it ends in death. Because far as I know, death is far more comforting than this hellhole you would call a life.

From the boy who is now lost and was once found...

– Lincoln Loud."

The following three emotions ran through Luna's head as she read the letter she found: Horror... Despair... and Rage.

Horror at the realization that she and the rest of her family made a fatal mistake came far too little and far too late.

Despair at the fact that the actions of her and the rest of her family drove another family member to become a runaway.

Rage at the knowledge that she and the rest of the family did nothing but remain blissfully ignorant of his inner torment.

But nothing changed the very certainty that the very existence of Lincoln Loud was no more...and they were the ones to blame.

As such, there was nothing Luna could do except drop down to her knees and cry uncontrollably.

Lincoln...