Lincoln strolled into the house, his Lincoln shirt slightly askew from a long day at school. He wasn't fazed in the slightest to see Lynn swinging a baseball bat in the living room, sending vases and picture frames crashing to the floor. Their dad's stuff, but Lincoln couldn't care less these days. Lynn was having a blast, and that was all that mattered.

"Nice swing, Lynn," Lincoln called out nonchalantly as he kicked off his shoes and headed towards the kitchen. "Just try not to break the bat."

Lynn smirked, twirling the aluminum bat like a baton. "This bat's indestructible, just like me!"

Lincoln found Lana in the den, both of them eager to dive into a game of "Grand Theft Auto Zero." The game was their current obsession, and they lost themselves in the virtual chaos, laughing and cheering as they wreaked havoc on the streets of Los Diablos.

A few hours in, their intense gaming session was interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open. Lucy stumbled in, her face pale and eyes wide with panic. Her stomach emitted a loud, ominous gurgle, and before she could even greet her siblings, she bolted towards the bathroom.

"What the heck is going on with her?" Lana asked, her eyes still glued to the screen.

Lincoln shrugged, but a knot of suspicion tightened in his gut. "No idea. Maybe she ate something bad at school."

The evening was a blur of video game missions and the constant background noise of Lucy's gastrointestinal distress. Every few minutes, they heard her stomach groan like a dying whale, followed by a desperate dash to the bathroom. The sound of explosive diarrhea echoed through the house, accompanied by Lucy's embarrassed groans.

At dinner, Lucy tried to join the family, but it was a futile effort. She barely took a bite before her stomach rumbled again, and she hurried off, clutching her abdomen. The scene repeated itself throughout the night, Lucy's usual dark and mysterious demeanor shattered by her uncontrollable bodily functions.

Lincoln watched her, concern etched on his face. He couldn't shake the feeling that Ronnie Anne was behind this. She had always been a prankster, but this seemed particularly cruel.

Later that night, he approached Lynn, who was lounging in her room, absentmindedly tossing her bat from hand to hand.

"Hey, Lynn," Lincoln began, his voice low. "I need a favor."

Lynn looked up, curiosity piqued. "What's up, bro?"

"I need to borrow your bat tomorrow," Lincoln said, his eyes steely with determination. "I think Ronnie Anne did this to Lucy, and I'm gonna make her pay."

Lynn's eyebrows shot up, but she handed him the bat without hesitation. "Just don't break it. I need it for my next game."

Lincoln gripped the bat, feeling its weight in his hands. "Thanks, Lynn."

As the night wore on, Lynn tried to get some sleep, but the room was filled with a noxious cloud, a result of Lucy's earlier visits. Unable to stand the smell, she grabbed her pillow and headed to Lincoln's room, only to find it empty.

Lincoln had decided to escape the chaos of the Loud House for the night, crashing at Clyde's place. He needed some space to think and plan. They spent the evening scheming, plotting how to confront Ronnie Anne without getting caught. It was almost therapeutic, the thought of revenge keeping his mind off the turmoil at home.

Just as they were about to call it a night, Lincoln's phone buzzed. It was his dad.

"Hey, son! Guess what? We're going camping tomorrow!" Lynn Sr.'s voice was overly cheerful.

Lincoln's grip tightened around the phone. "But it's Thursday. We have school."

"So? The story still has to happen," his dad replied, dismissively.

Frustration boiled over. Lincoln's face turned red, and without thinking, he crushed the phone in his hand. Pieces of plastic and circuitry scattered across Clyde's carpet.

"We have to stop him," Lincoln said through gritted teeth, his mind racing. "Help me plan an...accident."

Clyde's eyes widened. "Lincoln, you're not serious!"

"Oh, I'm dead serious," Lincoln shot back. "This shit has to end, that son of a bitch is going DOWN."

They spent the next hour hatching a plan. The image of Lynn Sr.'s face, with a dramatic circle and cross-out symbol over it, hung in the air like a grim promise. The plan had to be perfect. It had to be foolproof.

Meanwhile, back at the Loud House, Lucy's night was a living hell. She oscillated between her room and the bathroom, the latter becoming her second home. Her stomach was a relentless beast, refusing to give her a moment's peace. The family tried to help, offering her tea and sympathy, but nothing could quell the storm inside her.

The next morning dawned with a heavy sense of anticipation. Lincoln returned home, his face set in a mask of resolve. He exchanged a knowing glance with Lynn, who handed him the bat. It felt solid, reliable in his grip. He tucked it into his backpack.

The family loaded up the car. As they drove towards the campsite, Lincoln's mind was a whirlwind of plans and possibilities. He had to act fast, before the opportunity slipped through his fingers.

What awaited them in the woods was anyone's guess. Lincoln knew one thing for sure: this was the beginning of the end for Lynn Sr.