The courtroom was eerily quiet. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The faces of the family members, once filled with judgment and disbelief, now shifted to confusion and doubt. They stared at Lynn, who stood at the front of the room, a fierce expression on her face as she slowly took in the chaos she had just unleashed.
The prosecutor's face faltered, unsure whether to speak, but Lynn had already taken control of the room. She wasn't finished. She had waited too long to finally tell the truth.
"I'm telling you, it's true," Lynn repeated, her voice filled with determination. "Lincoln shot me. He tried to kill me, and I'm the only one who knows it."
Her words hung in the air, and her family exchanged glances, disbelief and confusion spreading like wildfire through the courtroom. No one knew what to believe anymore. Was she telling the truth? Or was this some kind of elaborate lie?
Lori stood frozen, her face pale with shock. She had spent months in the prison system, falsely accused of a crime she didn't commit. Her hands trembled, and she could barely manage to speak. "Lynn… I don't—how… how is this even possible? I thought you were…"
"Dead?" Lynn interjected, her voice cutting through the thick silence. "I thought so too."
Lynn took a deep breath, her eyes focused on her family, her heart pounding with the rush of revealing her truth. "When Lincoln shot me and I fell overboard… I should've died. But I didn't. I was saved."
The room grew colder. No one spoke. Everyone waited for Lynn to explain, their eyes locked onto her as though they were desperate to hear the next part of her story. Lincoln could feel the sweat prickling on his brow. The walls were closing in around him, and no amount of lies or clever manipulation would fix this now.
"I was rescued," Lynn continued, her voice steady, but the emotion behind her words was undeniable. "By a merman."
There were murmurs among the crowd. Some of her family members shifted uncomfortably, as if they had misunderstood her or didn't know what to make of her claim. A merman? Was she losing her mind?
But Lynn pressed on, undeterred. "He took me in, kept me alive when I was barely hanging on. But when I woke up, I didn't remember who I was. I had amnesia. I didn't know what had happened to me, or even my own name."
The family fell silent again, processing the magnitude of what Lynn was saying. How could this be? How could she have survived after falling into the water? Lincoln knew what had happened, but now, hearing Lynn speak about it in such a calm, composed way, made him feel like he was slipping further away from control.
"I wandered," Lynn went on, "wandering through cities and towns. I had no idea who I was or where I was supposed to go. Eventually, I ended up at a place called Camp Putdownadaspoona in Wisconsin."
Some of the family members exchanged confused glances, but Lynn was on a roll now, her story unraveling with every word. "They hired me as a counselor for the kids there. They needed someone to keep the… fat kids from eating each other," she said, her voice laced with dark humor. "I spent months there, just trying to figure myself out. I had no memory of my past life, and I never even considered that my family might still be searching for me."
Her words hung in the air. Her family had no idea what to think. To them, it sounded like a wild story—absurd, almost impossible to believe. Yet here she was, standing in front of them, telling them this twisted, unbelievable truth.
But Lynn wasn't done. She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Then, a few months ago, I met someone. A man. At the camp. He seemed nice at first, like someone I could trust." Lynn's face darkened, the memory still fresh in her mind. "But he wasn't who he said he was. He turned out to be a white supremacist, and one day, he took me to a convention. It was supposed to be a peaceful event, but things got out of hand. There were protesters, people who didn't like what we were standing for. And after I spoke out against them, things turned violent."
Lynn paused, swallowing hard as the memory of the event took over. "A bottle was thrown at me. It hit me in the head, and the impact knocked me out. But when I woke up... I remembered everything. I remembered who I was. I remembered Lincoln. I remembered my family. And I knew I had to get back to Royal Woods."
Lynn's voice shook with emotion, the weight of her journey finally catching up with her. She had been through so much, and it had taken this moment—this violent flashback, this loss of her memory, and this miraculous return—to finally put the pieces together. The pain of everything she'd been through had only made her more resolute.
"I came back as fast as I could," she finished, her voice growing stronger with every word. "And now you know the truth. It wasn't Lori. It was Lincoln."
There was a heavy silence in the room as everyone tried to digest what Lynn had just said. It was too much to take in all at once, and yet there was something about her story that seemed… real. Too real. The merman, the amnesia, the white supremacist—the bizarre details only seemed to make the whole thing more vivid, more believable. But how could they know for sure? How could they trust her after everything that had happened?
Lori's eyes narrowed, still skeptical but holding on to the hope that her sister wasn't lying. "Lincoln," she muttered, the realization dawning on her. "He—he did it. He really tried to kill you. And I… I've been accused of something I didn't do."
At that moment, a figure in the back of the courtroom caught everyone's attention. The police officers who had been sitting in the corner stood up, their faces suddenly filled with urgency. "There's a problem," one of them said, his voice sharp and tense. "Lincoln's gone. He's escaped."
Everyone's eyes turned to the door, and the realization hit like a gut punch. Lincoln was gone. He had slipped away during the chaos, vanishing into the night.
A murmur of panic swept through the room. The police immediately sprang into action, radioing for backup, setting up a perimeter around the courthouse. They knew this would be a manhunt. Lincoln had made his escape, and now it was up to them to track him down.
The scene outside became a blur as officers flooded the streets of Royal Woods, searching every alley, every corner, every place they could think of where Lincoln might be hiding. The town was on high alert, the streets eerily empty as the sound of sirens echoed through the night.
But despite their efforts, the search proved futile. No one could find him. Lincoln had planned this escape far too carefully. He was always several steps ahead, a shadow slipping between cracks and vanishing from sight. It was as though he had become something more than human—something twisted, an orchestrator of chaos who reveled in manipulating the world around him.
When the Loud family returned home later that evening, they were exhausted. Their minds had barely begun to process Lynn's shocking revelation about Lincoln, and the thought of him being on the run still sent tremors of fear through their bones. They knew the police would eventually find him—but they never expected to face him in the place they considered their sanctuary.
The door creaked open as they entered, and a chill ran down their spines as the familiar scent of their home greeted them. But something was off. The air was thick with tension.
"Lincoln?" Lori called out, but her voice trembled.
Then they saw him.
There he stood, in the living room, his back to the door, holding an M1911A1 pistol in his hand. The gun gleamed in the dim light, a deadly reminder of the danger he posed. Lincoln didn't flinch at their presence, nor did he acknowledge the way his family froze in place.
The weight of the moment crashed down on them all. His family was no longer a part of his carefully laid plan; they were now tools, pawns in his game. They could see the coldness in his eyes, a calculated, emotionless look that sent a shiver through each of them.
"I've been waiting for you," Lincoln said, his voice flat and detached, as if he was reciting a line from a script. He didn't need to explain himself. They knew it all. His crime was out in the open, and now, there was no turning back.
Without any emotion, Lincoln gestured for them to sit. They complied in silence, fear seeping into their bones. One by one, he tied them to chairs, hands bound tightly, each knot a symbol of his control over them. Their faces were filled with terror, but not one of them dared to speak.
And then, Bobby walked in, a clueless smile on his face, as if he were returning from a day of nothing more than routine. He had no idea what awaited him. His eyes darted around the room, scanning the family, before landing on Lincoln.
"Hey, what's going on here?" Bobby asked casually, tilting his head in confusion.
In a flash, Lincoln's cold eyes shifted toward Bobby. The gun moved with an unnerving precision.
Without a single word, Lincoln pulled the trigger. The loud, explosive sound rang through the room, and Bobby collapsed to the floor with a dull thud, blood pooling beneath him.
The room went silent.
Lori's eyes were wide with disbelief. She struggled against her restraints, but Lincoln only regarded Bobby's lifeless body with a cold indifference. "You shouldn't have walked in like that, Bobby," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You were an inconvenience."
The rest of the family recoiled in horror. But Lincoln's gaze didn't falter. The truth was out. Bobby's death was only the beginning of his reign of terror.
Lincoln's voice broke the silence. "The police won't care about a Mexican man disappearing. They'll just assume he ran off. The press won't notice. But you—" He gestured to his family, his expression darkening. "You'll all be the ones who pay for this, All of this wouldn't happened if you didn't locked me out of the house for being bad luck and then forcing me to wear a fucking squirrel suit every day, Fuck you guys, All of you sucks, I could've report to the child protection services about being mistreated for the past years instead of killing Lynn and framing Lori but I didn't think straight and now it too late to back ."
Lincoln moved swiftly, securing his family in place, each member helpless as they watched him prepare his next move. His hand tightened around the M1911A1, its cold steel a reminder of his utter dominance over them. His heart pulsed with an unholy thrill, knowing there was no one left who could stop him.
"Get in the van," Lincoln ordered, his voice sharp, demanding. He made no attempt to hide his plans. "We're going to the CIA."
Lori's heart sank. She didn't know what Lincoln was thinking, but she knew it wouldn't be good. She was a hostage now, just like the rest of them.
The drive to the CIA Headquarters was long and quiet. Lori tried not to meet Lincoln's gaze, the gun at his side a constant reminder of what he was capable of. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel, but she followed his orders.
Once they arrived, the tension only escalated. The imposing building loomed in front of them as they walked toward the entrance. Lincoln marched with confidence, a man on a mission. The guards eyed them as they approached, but Lincoln knew exactly what he needed to do.
"Agent Fields and Johnson," Lincoln announced, stepping forward with authority, his voice echoing in the cold, sterile hallway of the CIA Headquarters.
The guards didn't question him. They were too intimidated by his presence, too rattled by the cold calculation in his eyes. The doors opened with ease as he stepped through, Lori forced to follow him like a puppet on a string.
Lincoln moved swiftly, effortlessly accessing the CIA's supercomputer. His fingers danced across the keyboard, manipulating the most secure system in the world with an unsettling ease. His mind raced, each move a step closer to his goal.
The world's power grid was his to control now.
Two agents entered the room, attempting to intervene, but Lincoln raised the gun with a chilling calm. The agents froze, their hands raised in surrender. There was no fight in them. Lincoln wasn't just a criminal anymore. He was a force of nature, unstoppable and terrifying.
"If you try to stop me, I will disable the world's electricity," Lincoln said, his voice low but filled with a deadly threat. "I can make sure no one sees the sun again. I'll turn off every light, every power plant, and you'll be left in the dark. I will hold the world hostage."
The agents hesitated, and that hesitation was all Lincoln needed. He activated the system, and within moments, the entire planet's power grid was under his control.
Lori's eyes widened with horror as she watched the world's fate slip into Lincoln's hands. She had no idea how to stop him now. His plan was flawless.
But it wasn't over. Lincoln wasn't finished yet.
Within moments, the world would hear his voice. He wasn't just going to take control of the power grid. No, Lincoln had bigger ambitions.
He made his way to the broadcast station at the White House, sitting in the President's chair as if it were his own. The cameras flickered to life, capturing the face of the new leader—the tyrant of the world.
"People of Earth," Lincoln began, his voice clear and commanding, "I am now the President of the World. Your laws are mine. Your lives are mine. From now on, you will follow my rules or perish."
Lynn sat at home, watching in disbelief as her brother's face filled the screen. He was now the leader of the world, and she was no longer willing to watch in silence.
"Enough," she muttered, her voice cold with anger.
She turned to Lisa, who had been quietly watching the broadcast as well. "Give me your Sci-Fi weapons, Lisa," Lynn said firmly.
Lisa nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She handed over the Sci-Fi weapons, knowing there was no other choice. Lynn wasn't going to let her brother destroy everything they held dear.
Lynn knew what she had to do.
It was time to end Lincoln's reign.
Lynn's heart pounded as she burst through the window of the Oval Office. The glass shattered in a million pieces, raining down around her as she landed with a force that made the floor tremble beneath her. She was armed, her weapon of choice—a futuristic ray gun—clutched tightly in her hands. The world had fallen to pieces because of Lincoln, and now it was time to face him.
Lincoln's cold eyes locked onto her as she stood, framed by the broken window. His hands gripped the M1911A1 with lethal intent, but he wasn't fazed by her dramatic entrance. Instead, he chuckled darkly, a twisted smile playing on his lips.
"Well, well," Lincoln sneered, "look who decided to show up. You really think you can stop me now? Do you think this makes you a hero?"
Lynn's grip tightened around the ray gun. "I'm not here to be your hero, Lincoln. I'm here to end this."
The tension in the room was palpable. Both siblings were armed to the teeth, their weapons pointing at each other, and both knew that this was the moment. This wasn't just about the world anymore; this was personal.
They both charged, each one equally determined to be the one to come out on top. The sound of gunfire rang out as Lincoln fired first, the bullet narrowly missing Lynn as she dove to the side. She fired back with a blinding burst of energy from her ray gun, the blast narrowly grazing Lincoln's arm. His skin sizzled as the energy scorched him, but he was unfazed, ducking behind the large desk in the center of the room.
"You're weak, Lynn," Lincoln taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You always have been."
Lynn gritted her teeth, anger flaring in her chest. She was done listening to his words, done listening to his twisted justifications for everything he'd done. She fired again, but this time, Lincoln was quicker. He shot back with precision, hitting the wall just inches from her face.
The battle raged on, each sibling trying to outmaneuver the other, their movements a deadly dance of survival. Furniture was overturned, glass shattered, and the once-grand room now looked like a war zone. Lynn was starting to feel the weight of the fight pressing on her—she was fast, but Lincoln was relentless.
For a moment, they both paused, the air thick with the sound of their heavy breathing. They both knew this was the final showdown.
Lynn's hands were shaking, and she realized how much she hated herself for what she was about to do. She had every reason to kill Lincoln—he ruined her cruise ship vacation and always make stupid plans that always backfired. But as she stared at him, standing across from her with that smirk on his face, she felt something else stir in her heart.
Lincoln laughed, the sound cruel and taunting. "You don't have it in you, do you, Lynn? You can't kill me. You never could."
It was then that Lynn's mind flashed back to that moment—years ago—when she had gotten into that stupid argument with Lincoln during that fateful softball game. She had called him bad luck, and it had spiraled out of control. The fallout from that day, the squirrel suit, the lies, everything, it had all gone wrong because of her. The way she treated him, the way she pushed him further into his madness, had set this all in motion.
None of this would have happened if she hadn't lost her cool. If she hadn't pushed him to the brink, if she hadn't been so quick to blame him for everything that went wrong.
Her heart ached. She still saw him as her little brother. She couldn't kill him. Not like this. He may have been broken, twisted, but she had a responsibility. She had failed him—failed to protect him from the foxes last year, failed to see his pain. She had been so wrapped up in her own world, so consumed by her frustrations, that she had never noticed how far gone he was.
Tears welled in her eyes, and for the first time, she realized she couldn't end his life—not even after everything he had done. The gun in her hands trembled as she stared at Lincoln, her chest tight with a mix of guilt and sorrow.
"I'm sorry, Lincoln," Lynn whispered, her voice barely audible. "I've been awful to you. I should have done more."
Lincoln's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he took a step toward her, the cold glint of malice still shining in them. "Oh, now you get it, huh? Now that everything's falling apart, you finally realize your mistake?"
He chuckled darkly, but the laughter was hollow. "It's too late for apologies, Lynn. You're the reason I'm like this. You pushed me, and now... well, now I'm going to end it all. Starting with you."
Lynn felt the weight of her decision settle in her chest. It was true. She had helped create the monster in front of her. But she couldn't kill him. No matter how far gone he was, she still loved him.
With a sob of anguish, she dropped the ray gun. It clattered to the floor, useless. She surrendered. "I can't do it, Lincoln. I can't be the one to end your life."
Lincoln's eyes narrowed, his expression twisting with contempt. "Pathetic," he spat. "You're just like the rest of them. Weak."
And then, just as he raised his gun to shoot, a loud bang echoed through the room.
Lincoln's body jerked backward as a bullet ripped through his chest, splattering blood across the walls. The force of the shot sent him stumbling back, his hands gripping the wound as his face contorted in disbelief. Before he could react, another shot rang out, this time hitting him in the head. Lincoln's body fell to the ground with a sickening thud.
Lynn's breath caught in her throat as she turned to see Lori standing in the doorway, her gun still smoking. Lori's face was stone-cold, her eyes locked onto Lincoln's lifeless body.
Lynn took a step forward, her heart heavy with sorrow, and knelt beside her brother's body. She reached out, touching his cold, lifeless hand, but no tears came. Instead, a numb, aching silence settled over her.
Lori walked over to her, and the two sisters stood together, brokenhearted, as they looked down at the corpse of the only brother they had ever known. No words were spoken between them—there was nothing left to say.
And then, just as they stood there, the world around them shifted. The words "SIMULATION OVER" suddenly flashed across the screen, bright and clear. The room around them flickered, the walls dissolving and fading as though reality itself was crumbling. Everything was just an illusion.
The wrecked Oval Office, Lori's trembling hands holding a smoking gun, Lincoln's lifeless body—none of it was real. It all disappeared in an instant, replaced by a sterile, brightly lit lab filled with strange equipment. The air was silent except for the faint hum of machinery.
Lincoln blinked rapidly, his senses coming back to him as he found himself strapped into a peculiar chair-like device. Thick cables ran from the machine into a massive computer that buzzed with energy. His heart was racing, his skin damp with sweat. The simulated events felt so vivid, so real, that it took him a moment to ground himself in reality.
Before he could fully process the shift, Lisa burst into the room. She adjusted her thick glasses and approached Lincoln with her usual brisk efficiency. "Ah, excellent timing, dear brother. You've completed the simulation," she said, scribbling notes onto a clipboard. "I trust it provided the insights you sought?"
Lincoln groaned, rubbing his temples as he unstrapped himself from the device. "Lisa… what the hell was that? It felt so real." His voice was tinged with both awe and frustration.
Lisa offered a curt nod. "Precisely the point. My latest invention, the SimuRuminator 5000, utilizes advanced neural mapping to simulate potential outcomes of hypothetical scenarios. You desired to explore the ramifications of perpetuating the falsehood that you are, quote, 'bad luck.' The results, it seems, were less than favorable."
Lincoln stood, stretching his stiff limbs as the gravity of what he'd experienced settled over him. "Less than favorable? That was a freaking nightmare. Everyone hated me. I became a psycho. And Lori..." His voice trailed off, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled the harrowing final moments of the simulation.
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. A cautionary tale, no doubt. Based on your expressions and vital readings during the process, I'd deduce that continuing the ruse would likely result in catastrophic familial discord and, potentially, irreparable psychological damage for all parties involved."
Lincoln sighed deeply, running a hand through his white hair. "Yeah, no kidding. That simulation made it pretty damn clear. Lying to everyone about being bad luck? Worst idea ever."
Lisa smirked faintly, a rare show of emotion. "I am gratified to hear that my invention has served its purpose. The SimuRuminator was designed to provide an educational experience, albeit an unorthodox one. Shall we consider this experiment a success?"
Lincoln chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Yeah, Lisa. It's a success. You've officially convinced me to not agree with Lynn Jr that I'm bad luck, I don't want to sleep outside and then having to wear a squirrel suit 24/7."
Lisa adjusted her lab coat, satisfied. "Splendid. I trust this means you will confront the situation with honesty and integrity moving forward?"
Lincoln hesitated for a moment, his mind flashing back to the chaos he had just witnessed. The sheer horror of what could happen if he didn't. "Yeah, I will," he said finally. "I can't put everyone through that kind of crap, even if it was just a simulation. I'll tell Lynn she's wrong about me being bad luck and let hope she doesn't murder me."
Lisa gave a small nod of approval. "An admirable course of action. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must document these findings for future experimentation. Do try to avoid further existential crises, won't you?"
Lincoln rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, sure. No more crises. Thanks, Lisa."
As Lisa turned back to her equipment, Lincoln left the room and made his way to the living room. The familiar, chaotic sounds of the Loud household greeted him as he descended the stairs—the faint echoes of arguments, laughter, and the occasional crash of something breaking.
When he entered the living room, Lisa followed shortly after, having apparently decided to take a rare break from her scientific pursuits. They both plopped onto the couch, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with them. Lincoln grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, scrolling aimlessly through the channels.
Lisa leaned back, folding her arms. "So, brother, any profound reflections on your virtual escapade?"
Lincoln chuckled, leaning his head back against the couch. "Profound? Nah. But I did learn one thing: life's already complicated enough without me making it worse. I've got a lot of work to do to fix things with Lynn and the others, but hey, at least I know what not to do now."
Lisa smirked faintly. "A commendable revelation. Though I would advise against relying on simulations as a crutch for decision-making in the future. Reality, after all, is often more complex than even the most advanced artificial constructs."
Lincoln nodded, flipping through channels until he landed on an old black-and-white comedy. The familiar sound of canned laughter filled the room, a comforting background noise as the siblings sat together in companionable silence.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Lincoln allowed himself to relax. The horrors of the simulation were behind him, and with Lisa's help, he had gained a new perspective. It wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to set things right.
As the sun dipped below the horizon outside, casting the living room in a warm golden glow, Lincoln glanced at Lisa. "Hey, Lisa?"
She raised an eyebrow, looking up from the notebook she had pulled out. "Yes?"
"Thanks," Lincoln said simply. "For, y'know, everything."
Lisa tilted her head, her expression softening ever so slightly. "You're welcome, Lincoln. Now, do try not to disrupt the household equilibrium again. It's taxing on my research schedule."
Lincoln laughed, shaking his head. "No promises, Lisa. No promises."
And for the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope. Things might actually turn out okay.