The sun was a sadistic bastard, its rays blistering the streets of Royal Woods like a blowtorch on bare skin. The air was thick and heavy, laden with the stench of sweat and desperation. It was the kind of heat that made your brain feel like it was melting, dribbling out of your ears in a sludgy mess.

And in the midst of this inferno, Lincoln Loud was about to lose his goddamn mind. His sisters, those shrieking harpies, were at each other's throats, their usual bickering escalated to a level of violence that would make a prison riot look like a tea party. The house was a warzone, a cacophony of screams and shattering glass.

But Lincoln, that crafty little boy, had a secret weapon up his sleeve. With a manic grin stretching across his face, he tapped into his superpowers, feeling the energy crackling through his veins like electricity. In a blur of motion, he zipped through the house, moving so fast that his sisters were nothing more than smears of color in his peripheral vision.

His target? The freezer, that glorious bastion of icy salvation. Lincoln tore through the kitchen like a man possessed, his eyes wild and fevered. He nearly ripped the freezer door off its hinges in his haste, the rush of frigid air hitting him like a glorious slap in the face.

And there, nestled among the frost-encrusted TV dinners and freezer-burned ice cream, was his prize: a box of grape icepops, the purple packaging glistening like a goddamn beacon in the night. Momma Rita splurged for extra for her little superson, and he was forever grateful. Lincoln snatched up the box, his fingers trembling with anticipation.

He tore into the icepops like a rabid animal, purple-stained lips smacking obscenely as he devoured them at a breakneck pace. The artificial grape flavor was like ambrosia on his tongue, a sweet respite from the bitter chaos that surrounded him.

But even as he lost himself in the icy ecstasy, Lincoln knew that he couldn't stay in this frozen oasis forever. His sisters were reaching a fever pitch, their screams rising to a deafening crescendo. He could feel the house shaking on its very foundation, threatening to collapse under the weight of their fury.

And in that moment, Lincoln made a decision. Fuck this noise. With a burst of superspeed, he rocketed out of the house, grape icepops clutched in his sticky fingers. He left his sisters to their fate, a whirlwind of destruction, hormones, tame animals, physicalized music notes, and toxic chemical fumes. Let them tear each other apart, he thought viciously. He had bigger fish to fry.

Those fish being….

….?

Lincoln raced through the streets of Royal Woods, his feet barely touching the ground. The asphalt was soft and pliable beneath him, melting under the relentless heat of the sun. But Lincoln paid it no mind, his sights set on the gleaming skyline of Great Lakes City in the distance, even as liquid concrete pulled off his soles and grown men crawled along the ground towards shade, turning to human mush, desperate for relief.

He found her exactly where he knew she would be, lurking in the shadows of a grimy alleyway like a discount Batman. Ronnie Anne was decked out in her usual getup, a garish purple and black spandex number that looked like it had been stitched together by a colorblind seamstress with a grudge. She tugged at her mask, the elastic leaving angry red marks on her cheeks.

"Oh god," she groaned, her voice dripping with disdain. "This is the lamest thing we've ever done."

But Lincoln was undeterred, his enthusiasm as unshakeable as his belief in the power of grape-flavored high fructose corn syrup. "Come on, Ronnie Anne!" he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We're superheroes now! Embrace it!" They were a team, a dynamic duo of preadolescent angst and poor fashion choices.

Ronnie Anne rolled her eyes so hard, it was a miracle they didn't get stuck in the back of her head. But before she could come up with a sufficiently biting retort, a sound caught their attention: the wailing of police sirens, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

Lincoln's heart leapt into his throat, his body vibrating with a heady mixture of excitement and terror. "A bank robbery!" he squealed, his voice cracking with pubescent glee. "This is it! Our chance to prove ourselves as true heroes!"

Ronnie Anne looked like she'd rather chug a gallon of expired milk than go along with Lincoln's harebrained scheme. But she knew there was no stopping him when he got like this, his eyes gleaming with a manic fervor that bordered on the unhinged.

So, with a resigned sigh and a muttered prayer to whatever sadistic deity had cursed her with this idiot for a best friend, Ronnie Anne followed Lincoln as he raced towards the scene of the crime, his garish magician's flapping behind him like a demented flag.

Lincoln and Ronnie Anne raced towards the bank, their hearts pounding with a heady mixture of adrenaline and grape-flavored courage. The sound of sirens and shattering glass grew louder with each step, a discordant symphony of mayhem that seemed to spur them on.

As they neared the scene of the crime, Lincoln's mind raced with visions of heroic glory, of finally proving to the world (and more importantly, to himself) that he was more than just a scrawny kid with a weird costume fetish. Ronnie Anne, on the other hand, was just trying not to trip over her own feet, silently cursing the day she ever agreed to take on these powers.

They burst through the shattered remains of the bank's front doors, their dramatic entrance somewhat undercut by the fact that Lincoln's cape got caught on a jagged shard of glass, nearly yanking him off his feet. But he recovered quickly, striking what he hoped was a heroic pose as he surveyed the scene before him.

The bank lobby was a warzone, with overturned furniture and scattered papers littering the floor like confetti at a particularly violent parade. And there, in the midst of the chaos, stood the robbers: a motley crew of masked men who looked more like rejects from a low-budget heist movie than hardened criminals.

For a moment, everyone just stared at each other, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife (or, in Lincoln's case, a plastic spork he'd been carrying around in his utility belt for some reason). The robbers shifted uneasily, their eyes darting back and forth behind their masks as they tried to make sense of the situation.

Finally, one of them spoke, his voice muffled by the cheap fabric of his mask. "Uh... who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Lincoln puffed out his chest, his voice ringing out with a confidence he didn't quite feel. "I am the Amazing Ace of Spades, defender of truth, justice, and the American way of life! And this is my trusty sidekick, Romaine Hearts!"

Ronnie Anne shot him a glare that could have melted steel beams, pulling him up by his collar. "Call me a sidekick one more time, Loud, and I'll shove that cape so far up your—"

But before she could finish her threat, one of the robbers made a sudden move, his hand darting towards the bulging duffel bag at his feet. Lincoln let out a high-pitched yelp of alarm, his superspeed kicking in as he lunged forward to intercept the criminal.

What followed was a slapstick ballet of utter incompetence, with Lincoln and Ronnie Anne tripping over each other's feet, bumbling into walls, and generally making a complete ass of themselves as they tried to apprehend the increasingly baffled robbers. The criminals, for their part, seemed torn between the desire to make a break for it and the morbid curiosity of watching this train wreck unfold in real-time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of flailing limbs and muffled curses, Lincoln managed to tackle one of the robbers to the ground, his scrawny arms wrapped around the man's legs like a deranged koala. Ronnie Anne, not to be outdone, leapt onto another criminal's back, pummeling him with tiny, ineffectual fists.

It was at that moment, as they lay panting and sweating on the cold marble floor, that Lincoln and Ronnie Anne realized something was very, very wrong. The robbers beneath them were shaking, their bodies convulsing with what Lincoln initially mistook for sobs of defeat. But as he looked closer, he saw that the men were calling out to some mysterious person: the "director." Aghast, what a minimalist and sinister moniker for a mastermind. But what kind of dastardly villain could The Director be?!

And that's when they heard it— the unmistakable sound of a man yelling "CUT!", followed by a wave of raucous discussion from the assembled film crew. Lincoln and Ronnie Anne looked up, their eyes wide with dawning horror.

As the confused murmurs of the film crew washed over them, Lincoln and Ronnie Anne struggled to their feet, their faces burning with embarrassment beneath their masks. The director, a tall, imposing figure with a megaphone clutched in his white-knuckled grip, strode towards them, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and growing irritation.

"What in the seven hells is going on here?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the cavernous bank lobby. "Who are you two, and what do you think you're doing on my movie set?"

"Movie set?!" went both kids.

Lincoln opened his mouth to respond, but found himself suddenly tongue-tied, his usual bravado evaporating like a drop of water on a hot sidewalk. Ronnie Anne, sensing his discomfort, stepped forward, her chin jutting out defiantly.

"We're superheroes," she declared, her voice ringing with a conviction she didn't quite feel. "We thought there was a real robbery going on, so we came to stop it."

The director stared at them for a long moment, his eyes narrowing behind his thick-rimmed glasses. Then, to their surprise, he let out a bark of sarcastic laughter, the sound harsh and grating.

"Superheroes?" he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what you call yourselves? Well, I've got news for you, kids. You're not heroes, you're a liability. Do you have any idea how much this little stunt of yours is going to cost me?"

Lincoln and Ronnie Anne exchanged a nervous glance, the gravity of their situation finally sinking in. They had really stepped in it this time, and there was no telling how they were going to get out of it.

But before they could formulate a response, a new voice cut through the tension, smooth and honeyed. "Now, now, Mister Director," it purred, "let's not be too hasty."

Everyone turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows, his movements fluid and graceful. He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than Lincoln's entire family plus their life insurance, his dark hair slicked back in a style that screamed "trust fund baby."

"These kids may have caused a bit of a disruption," he continued, his lips curling into a smirk, "but I think we can turn this into an opportunity. After all, what's a superhero movie without a couple of real-life heroes to inspire the masses?"

The director sputtered, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. "Are you out of your mind, Harrington?" he spat. "They just swooped outta the sky like a couple'a Avenging Bozos and beat up my star! I'm not going to rewrite my entire script just to accommodate these two lunatics!"

But the man called Harrington just smiled, his eyes glinting with a calculating light. "Oh, I think you will," he said softly, his voice laced with a subtle threat. "After all, I'm the one who's funding this little project of yours. And if I say these kids are going to be in the movie, then that's exactly what's going to happen."

Lincoln and Ronnie Anne watched in stunned silence as the director deflated like a punctured balloon, his shoulders slumping in defeat. They couldn't believe what was happening: one minute they were facing the consequences of their idiocy, and the next they were being offered a chance to be in a real superhero movie.

But even as the excitement started to build in their chests, Lincoln couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about this Harrington guy. He was too smooth, too polished, and there was a glint in his eye that made Lincoln's skin crawl. Heck— he didn't even question their actual superpowers.

Harrington's smile was disarming, but there was something unsettling about the way his eyes seemed to calculate their every move. "I have a proposition for you two," he began, his voice smooth as silk. "But let's discuss this in a more comfortable setting. Please, join me at my penthouse, and we'll talk further."

Before Lincoln and Ronnie Anne could protest, Harrington's team of assistants and bodyguards ushered them into a sleek black limousine. The ride to the billionaire's penthouse was a blur of luxury and anticipation, with the two young heroes trying to process the incredible turn their day had taken.

As they stepped into Harrington's opulent penthouse, Lincoln and Ronnie Anne couldn't help but marvel at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the priceless works of art, and the cutting-edge technology that adorned every surface. Most of the room proved shadowy, dark mahogany, with a prism of silvery sunshine cutting down the middle. Harrington led them to a plush seating area, gesturing for them to sit as he settled into a chair opposite them, sitting just shy under that prism.

"Now, here's what I'm offering," Harrington began, his eyes glinting with a calculating light. "I want you to be the stars of my next big-budget superhero movie. We'll make you famous, give you everything you could ever want, and all you have to do is sign on the dotted line."

Lincoln's heart raced at the thought of achieving his dreams of fame and fortune, but Ronnie Anne looked skeptical. "What's the catch?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Harrington chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Lincoln's spine. "Well. Just a simple agreement. You'll work exclusively for me, and I'll shape your public personas, your histories, your every waking moment. Your powers will serve my interests alone, and any deviation from our arrangement will be met with severe consequences."

Lincoln swallowed hard, the enormity of the decision weighing heavily on his shoulders. He glanced at Ronnie Anne, hoping for some sign of support or guidance, but she looked just as conflicted as he felt.

The temptation to leave behind his chaotic family life and embrace a new identity was strong, but something about Harrington's offer felt too good to be true. Lincoln couldn't shake the feeling that surrendering to the billionaire's control would be a mistake he'd regret for the rest of his life.

"I... I don't know," Lincoln stammered, his voice wavering. "This is all happening so fast. I mean, the idea of being famous is amazing, but giving up our identities, our lives... it's a lot to ask."

Harrington leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I understand your hesitation, Lincoln. But think about the opportunity I'm offering you. A chance to leave behind the chaos and dysfunction of your family, to become someone new and unburdened. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Ronnie Anne raised an eyebrow suspiciously at Harrington's words.

Lincoln's mind raced, the billionaire's words striking a chord deep within him. He thought of the constant noise, the endless bickering, the never-ending demands on his time and energy. The idea of escaping it all was undeniably appealing.

But then he thought of his sisters, his parents, and the love that bound them together despite their differences. As much as they drove him crazy sometimes, they were still his family, and the thought of abandoning them completely felt like a betrayal.

Lincoln took a deep breath and met Harrington's gaze with a determined stare. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harrington, but I can't accept your offer. My family may be a handful, but they're still my family. And I'm not willing to give up my identity or my principles, no matter what you're offering in return."

Harrington's smile faltered, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features. "I see. Well, if you refuse my generous offer, then you'll be on the hook for the $50 million in damages you've caused today. I'm afraid I can't let you walk away from this so easily."

Lincoln's heart sank at the thought of the impending legal and financial consequences, but he stood his ground. "We understand. But we've got our principles, and we're not going to compromise them for anyone. Not even a billionaire like you."

With that, Lincoln turned to Ronnie Anne, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Come on, Chandler McCann. We've got crime to fight and people to save. I, Dr. Blödmann, and my trusty sidekick have work to do!"

Ronnie Anne stared at Lincoln in bewilderment, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? Chandler McCann?"

And then she sputtered. "And didn't I say that I'm stuffing your intestines with your cape if you called me a sidekick?! I'm gonna—"

But before she could finish her threat, Harrington's form shimmered and shifted, revealing the familiar visage of Alastor, the mischievous demon who had granted Lincoln his powers.

"Neat-o, Lincoln-boy," Alastor chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like I didn't make a mistake giving you these powers after all. You've got a real spine of steel, something I'll have to grind into a fine powder someday. But this is going to be fun!" Then he pat his chin. "Oh, I'm sorry. I meant, Doctor Blödmann and Chandler McCann." Wink! Twinkly wink!

With that, Alastor vanished in a puff of acrid smoke, leaving Lincoln and Ronnie Anne alone.

As the smoke from Alastor's disappearance dissipated, Ronnie Anne turned to Lincoln, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Okay, Loud, you've got some explaining to do. Who the heck was that, and how did he know about your family?"

Lincoln sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "It's a long story."

With that, he leapt out of the window balcony and into the sky, his cape billowing behind him as he raced across the city. Ronnie Anne shook her head in disbelief but couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she took off after him, the wind whipping through her hair as they soared above the bustling streets below.

"Race you to the Starlight Building!" Lincoln called over his shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he put on a burst of speed.

Ronnie Anne laughed, accepting the challenge without hesitation. "You're on, Lame-O!"

The two young heroes wove between skyscrapers, their laughter echoing through the air as they reveled in the newfound freedom of flight. For a moment, the weight of their responsibilities and the looming threat of Harrington's ultimatum seemed to fade away, replaced by the sheer joy of friendly competition.

As they approached the Starlight Building, their phones buzzed simultaneously with a news alert. They slowed their flight, fumbling with their devices as they tried to keep their balance in midair.

The video showed a man in a lab coat and goggles, standing in what appeared to be a high-tech laboratory. "Greetings, citizens of Royal Woods!" he proclaimed, his voice high-pitched and nasally. "I am Dr. Blödmann, the greatest scientific mind the world has ever known! And I have a demand: one MILLION dollars, or I will unleash my diabolical laser upon the city, reducing it to ashes!"

An off-screen voice, presumably belonging to the doctor's assistant, interrupted the villainous monologue. "Uh, sir? A million dollars isn't really that much money these days, especially in a big city like this."

Dr. Blödmann paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What? Are you sure?"

The assistant sighed, the sound of rustling papers filling the background. "Yes, sir. Inflation and all that. I do believe that you'd require ten million to be considered modestly wealthy."

"Ten million?!" Dr. Blödmann sputtered, his face reddening with embarrassment. "I-I knew that! I was just testing you!" He turned back to the camera, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Ahem! Make that TEN MILLION dollars, or face the wrath of Dr. Blödmann!"

Just then, the sound of police sirens filled the air, drowning out the villain's maniacal laughter. The camera shook as officers stormed the lab, their weapons drawn.

"Freeze! Dr. Blödmann, you're under arrest for causing over $50 million in damages in Great Lakes City, along with your partner in crime, Chandler McCann!" one of the officers shouted. The officer didn't aim at the assistant, instead another officer pulled up some documents to say:

"It appears Chandler is operating in the suburb of Royal Woods. Let's roll, boys!"

Dr. Blödmann's eyes widened in panic, his ray gun clattering to the floor as he raised his hands in surrender. "You dare challenge the great Doctor Blödmann? You nincom— ack!" And then the arrest proceeded in an ultra-real ass procedure of clicking handcuffs and low tones into walkie talkies.

As the police handcuffed the sputtering villain and led him away, the camera panned to the assistant, who merely shook his head and took a sip of coffee, his pinky raised in a gesture of exasperated sophistication.

The assistant then looked to the camera and shook his head, mouth pulled strongly to the side, and shut off the stream as the chat was still going crazy with emojis and memes.

"What just happened?"

Lincoln and Ronnie Anne stared at their phones, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and amusement. They glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Well, that was... something," Lincoln remarked, still trying to process the absurdity of what they'd just witnessed.

Ronnie Anne snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "Yeah, no kidding?"

"And wait, there's actually a guy named Dr Blödmann?"

"Wait, you didn't know?!"

"No!" Lincoln sputtered. "I was just coming up with the dumbest name I could think of."

"But who was… Why was… What the heck even was that?"

"I guess we'll never know," Lincoln shrugged.

With that, the two heroes resumed their flight, shooting out of the metropolis and back home to Royal Woods. Except, wait, no, that doesn't work. So one heads home, but why is Ronnie Anne still here? Vacation, that's it! Summer vacation, the Casagrandes are spending their summer in Royal Woods, yeah, that's the excuse, not a plot hole at all.

"You know, Loud," Ronnie Anne said, her voice taking on a more serious tone as she turned to face him. "I still want to know what's going on with you and this whole demon-deal thing."

Lincoln sighed, running a hand through his hair as he considered his next words carefully. "I know, Ronnie Anne. And I promise, I'll tell you everything. But right now, I think we both need a break from all this craziness."

Ronnie Anne studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his for any hint of deception. Finally, she nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Alright, Lame-O. But don't think you're off the hook just yet."

Lincoln grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at her words. "Wouldn't dream of it."

With that, the two heroes sped up, their laughter echoing across the city as they raced back towards Royal Woods.

Landing softly on his front lawn, Lincoln was greeted by the sight of his sisters, their faces alight with excitement as they rushed out to meet them.

"Lincoln! You're back!" Leni exclaimed, wrapping her brother in a tight hug as the others crowded around him.

Yep, he thought to himself, savoring the peaceful moment. Definitely made the right choice today.

Author's Note: Awwww so schmaltzy, so wholesome. Would be a shame if some crackfic stuff started happening...