User blog:Metool Bard/Fanfiction: Missing Linc (Chapter 21)

Chapter 21: Confrontation: Hank and Hawk
In a matter of moments, the two darkened souls emerged from the locker room, answering to Lynn’s challenge. They marched right up to us, towering over us like two ruthless vampire hunters staring down a pair of lowly skalls.

“What’s all this about?” asked Hank (or perhaps it was Hawk?  I don’t know which is which). “We’re not supposed to trounce you losers for another ten minutes.”

“Oh, someone’s gonna get trounced alright,” Lynn snarled. “And it’s you two cheaters!”

“Just a moment, kid,” said the referee. “That’s a pretty serious claim you’re making. Can you prove it?”

“I bet she can’t,” Hawk said with a sneer (though it might’ve been Hank). “I bet she just wants to weasel her way out of the butt-kicking that’s comin’!”

Sigh. Already, they seek to make us look like the villains and cast a dubious light on our story. I won’t let them escape their fate.

“Sir, I implore you to give us a chance,” I said. “This crime cannot go unpunished.”

“Big talk coming from a little water girl,” growled Hank, pounding his fist into his palm.

“It’s true, though,” Lynn snapped. “How else are you guys always busting through our plays?”

Hank and Hawk looked at each other and shrugged.

“Maybe you guys just suck,” Hawk jeered. “Isn’t that right, Hank?”

“Yeah,” Hank concurred. “You never had a prayer to beat the Hockers, and you never will.”

They concluded their taunt by spitting at our feet. Grr. They aren’t intimidated in the slightest. Thankfully, neither are we.

“If you’re so sure about that, how about you explain yourselves?” I challenged.

Hank and Hawk looked at each other again. They then turned to the referee.

“C’mon, ref. You aren’t seriously buying all this, are you?” Hank asked. “They’re just a bunch of sore losers trying to rob us of the win.”

The referee furrowed his brow and pondered this for a while. Finally, he sighed.

“We can’t continue the game until this is addressed,” he said, giving us a look. “But this is your only warning, you two. If I find out that you can’t prove any of your claims, the Roosters are disqualified.”

“Got it,” Lynn said with a nod. Even though she tried to project confidence, I could tell she was nervous. I share her sentiments. Is our evidence going to be enough to illuminate the dismal dealings of these darkened souls? Only the spirits know for sure.

“Fine,” Hawk said with a snort. “Guess me and Hank are gonna have to give you a little history lesson, ref. We’ll show you these whiney crybabies have no idea what they’re talking about.”

Grr. Lynn only cried because you kicked her while she was down. You knew she was upset about Lincoln vanishing, and you used it against her. We still need to figure out how you know that, but one problem at a time. For now, we need to break through their bluster and expose them for the blackened souls they are.

Argument: You Just Suck

“You probably forgot this, but the Royal Woods Roosters have never beaten the Hazeltucky Hockers,” said Hank.

“And we know for a fact that you never will,” said Hawk. “We’re just too good for you wimps. We don’t even need to cheat.”

“Yeah! The only reason you’d say otherwise is so that you could ruin our victory in the biggest game of the season,” said Hank. “Just admit it and give it up.”

“Yeah, just admit it,” said Hawk. “It’s not like you have any proof that we did anything wrong.”

That didn’t feel like an argument. It just sounded like a bunch of discouraging drivel bullies spew in order to keep others down. But my older sisters always told me that bullies only win when you let them. And we won’t let them.

“So you claim that no matter what, the Roosters will lose to the Hockers every time,” I said.

“That’s right,” said Hank with a sneer. “We’ve always beaten you chumps.”

“That much is true,” I said, stroking my chin in thought. “But as I recall, there was one game where you almost lost.”

Hank scowled. “Whaddya mean?”

“Lynn, remember the first time you played for the Roosters?” I asked.

Lynn thought for a moment before her face lit up. “You mean the big game when I was subbing for Lincoln, right?”

“Exactly,” I said with a nod.

Hawk scoffed. “What about that game? We still won.”

“The only reason you won was because I was taken out of commission, and Lincoln messed up trying to make up for his scheme,” said Lynn. “Face it, guys. We Roosters can put up a fight. Your victory is never a sure thing.”

Hank and Hawk growled and snorted. Methinks we struck a nerve.

“Yeah, well, so what?” said Hank. “Doesn’t change the fact that you Roosters are still a bunch of losers. We’re just the better team, plain and simple.”

I was almost tempted to show them the football signals right then and there, but that would mean admitting to snooping around in the Hockers’ locker room. We still need to build our case. Lynn smirked and brushed the underside of her nose.

“So, you’re sticking by that, huh?” she said.

“And what if we are?” asked Hawk, cracking his knuckles. “You wanna make something of it?”

“Dang right I do,” said Lynn. “I think you two need to explain this.”

She pulled out the note Polly Pain gave her and handed it to the referee. He looked it over and gasped.

“Hockers, you’d better have an explanation for this!” he barked angrily.

Hank and Hawk jumped. “Wh-what? What’d we do?”

“That right there is a note asking a couple of punks to steal the Roosters’ football signals,” said Lynn. “It was picked up by a friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous after those punks tried to rope her into their scheme.”

“Th-that has nothing to do with us!” Hank bellowed.

“Oh, it doesn’t, does it?” said Lynn, crossing her arms. “Then tell me, who else would want our football signals? I can’t think of anyone but you guys!”

“Maybe it was another team!” Hawk brayed. “Ever think of that?!”

Lynn snickered and shook her head. “Now you’re just grasping at straws. This is the biggest game of the season. The Roosters aren’t gonna be playing anyone else after this game until the next season rolls around. No other team in the state is gonna get any use out of last season’s signals! Face it, they’re only useful to you!”

“You’re dead, Loud!”

Hank and Hawk tried to charge for us in a blind rage, only for the referee to blow his whistle and hold them back.

“This isn’t looking good for you boys,” he scolded. “Explain yourselves, or the Hockers will be disqualified.”

“Bull! You can’t just take their side!” Hank snapped. “Here, let me see that!”

He swiped the note from the referee’s fingers and read it over. Sigh. They have no regard for the authority here.

“Just fess up, you punks,” said Lynn. “You convinced Papa Wheelie and Flat Tire to steal our signals, didn’t you?”

Hank and Hawk gave Lynn a blank look. “Who and who?”

Uh-oh. That’s not a good sign. Lynn’s expression changed from snide to bewildered in an instant.

“Papa Wheelie and Flat Tire,” she said. “They’re the ones who stole our…”

Hank sneered. “We don’t know anyone who calls themselves that.”

“N-no! Dang it!”

Lynn flinched from this sudden revelation. I, too, did not foresee this.

“Looks like your proof is as weak as your team, Loud,” Hawk laughed. “We have nothing to do with this note.”

Dang it. He’s right. We can’t prove that they wrote the note. But then, who did write it?

“Ref, everything about this note is bogus, and we can prove it,” said Hank.

The referee’s brow creased as he mulled things over. Finally, he nodded.

“Alright, I think it’s only fair that you two get a chance to explain this,” he said.

This isn’t good. I don’t fault the referee for giving them the benefit of the doubt; it’s his job to remain impartial. But it’s obvious that Lynn was jumping to conclusions about the origin of the note, and that puts us in a bind. If we can’t prove that the Hockers wrote that note, how can we prove any of their misdeeds?

Argument: The Note is Bogus

“You honestly can’t expect us to believe that we wrote this,” said Hank.

“First of all, we don’t know anyone named Papa Wheelie or Flat Tire,” said Hawk. “They sound like a couple of losers, anyway.”

“Second of all, this note promised them that they’d get parts in some Full House Gang movie if they stole your signals,” said Hank. “You really think we have those kinds of connections?”

“Not only that, but we don’t even know what the Full House Gang is,” said Hawk. “It sounds really lame, though, just like you wimpy Roosters.”

On the surface, they make a good case. It was foolish to accuse them of writing the note when we had no real proof. But everything else doesn’t add up. Even if they didn’t write the note, they’re hiding something big. The spirits sense it. Still, how do we go about exposing them?

“I’m willing to concede that you didn’t have a hand in writing this note,” I said. “However, someone did.”

“And what? You think we know who wrote this?” Hank jeered. “Sorry, but we have no idea.”

“Hey, Hank. Maybe someone was trying to frame us and make us lose the game,” Hawk snickered.

Perhaps that was supposed to be mockery, but I have a feeling the referee would buy that explanation if we let it go unchallenged. Besides, I know that isn’t true. They have to know who wrote that note. But how are we going to prove it? Should I use… that?

“What’s the matter, Loud? Cat got your tongue?” Hawk taunted. “Just give up. That’s what you should’ve done in the first place.”

Sigh. It’s very risky to show this now, but I don’t think we have any other options. I looked to Lynn. She gave me a firm nod. Okay, here goes nothing.

“I think this has gone on long enough,” said the referee. “I’ll look into this note, but since you failed to prove that the Hockers cheated, I’m afraid I’ll have to—”

“Silence.”

My sharp yet subtle exclamation caught the attention of the referee and the two blackened souls. They leered at me.

“What do you want, water girl?” Hank snarled.

“You claim that you do not know about the Full House Gang,” I said. “If that is the case, how do you explain this?”

I took out the damaged comic book. Though Hank and Hawk glowered at me like hungry beasts, I could see them shivering.

“H-how did you get that?” asked Hawk.

“So you recognize it,” I said. “This here is an Ace Savvy comic. Specifically, this book depicts the exploits of the Full House Gang; a group of character created by my brother, Lincoln Loud.”

The two darkened souls flinched. Something about Lincoln’s name was making them uncomfortable.

“Wh-why do you think we care about that?” said Hank.

“Because we found something inside of this comic,” I said. “Something that you are going to have to explain to the referee.”

Hank snorted angrily. “You tell us where you got that, or we’ll turn you into a human pretzel.”

“You lay one finger on my sister, and I’ll tear you both limb from limb,” Lynn snarled.

Hank simply sneered. “I’d like to see you try.”

Sigh. While I don’t doubt Lynn’s fighting prowess, these two behemoths might be a bit too much for her to handle. But as they say: the bigger they are, the harder they fall. It’s time to end this.

“Coach, could you take a look at these?” I said.

I brandished the signals and handed them to the Roosters’ coach. In a matter of moments, his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“Th-these are our signals!” he proclaimed. “Wh-where did you find these?!”

“Inside the Full House Gang comic,” I said. “Which in turn was inside Hank and Hawk’s locker.”

“Y-you little snot! You’re going down!”

Hank and Hawk charged right for me, only to be held back by the referee.

“Settle down, you two,” he scolded. He then turned to me and Lynn. “This is pretty serious, but I have to ask. What were you doing inside the Hockers’ locker room?”

Sigh. I knew that would come up. He’s not going to listen to the spirits; only I can hear them. But if I don’t explain our actions, we’re all going to get in trouble. What do I do here?

“I think I can explain, ref,” said Lynn.

I looked over at Lynn. Her expression was somber yet warm. As if her passionate fire was slowly being rekindled.

“C’mon, ref. They snuck into our locker room and stole our stuff!” Hawk protested. “You can’t just let them off the hook!”

“Um, excuse me, but you’re the ones who had our signals hidden in your locker,” said Lynn. “You don’t exactly have a leg to stand on.”

“But still, what were you doing in there?” asked the referee.

Lynn sighed. “Here’s the truth, ref. Last night, my brother went missing. I wanted to go look for him, but I couldn’t do that because of this game.”

“I’m… very sorry to hear that, Loud,” said the referee. “But what does…?”

“Silence,” I commanded. “Lynn is going somewhere with this.”

The referee stared at me for a moment before nodding. “Um, right. Please, continue.”

“Thanks, Luce,” said Lynn, clearing her throat. “Now, I couldn’t get Lincoln off my mind at all today. That already meant that I wasn’t playing my best. But during the first quarter, I was sacked by one of these two goons, and they said something to me. Something that convinced Lucy and me to snoop around.”

“What did he say?”

Lynn took another deep breath and glared at the two beasts. “He said ‘I guess football isn’t your strong suit now that your brother is gone.’”

Hank and Hawk seethed with rage. “Watch what you say, Loud! You’re asking for it!”

“You can’t threaten me, you jerks!” Lynn barked back. “‘Cause guess what? The Strong Suit is the name of the character Lincoln based off of me in his Full House Gang comic! How could you have made that taunt if you didn’t know what the Full House Gang was, huh?!”

“And that’s not the most interesting part,” I added. “You knew Lincoln had gone missing, and you used that to toy with Lynn’s emotions. What else do you know?”

Hank and Hawk tried to appear imposing, but sweat rained from their brows. “Y-you’d better shut up if you know what’s good for you! W-we’re not telling you anything!”

Lynn marched right up to them and climbed up Hank’s massive chest. She grabbed the thug by the collar and looked him right in the eye.

“Talk while you still have a jaw,” she threatened.

Hank sneered. “Big talk, Loud. But me and Hawk can take ya easy!”

Gasp. Lynn’s going to get herself hurt if she keeps this up. She might’ve even reached the point where the referee would be powerless to quell their rage. I have to do something. C’mon, think. How did we deal with them last time?

…

Ah. That’s right. I think I know how to get them to spill the beans.

“So, you plan to brutalize my sister instead of defending your honor?” I asked.

The two of them stared down at me. “Yeah, that’s right. And you’re gonna get some, too.”

“I see,” I said. “Then you intend to spill our blood.”

Hank and Hawk did a double take. “Wh-what?”

“We Louds are tough. If you plan to use violence to silence us, you’ll have to make us bleed,” I said. “Picture it. Rivers of crimson and green oozing from our distorted faces. Thick pools staining this very field until every blade of grass turns red. Slowly, it will drip from our faces like churned molasses. A veritable feast for creatures of the night, who would sink their fangs into the viscous carnage that you create. Such a picturesque victory over us lowly mortals, is it not?”

As I waxed poetic on the nature of their intentions, I could see their faces turning green. Heh. Just like last time. When faced with true horror, they haven’t the stomach for it.

“S-stop it! Y-you’re making me sick!” Hank groaned as he began gagging.

“Qu-quit it, bro!” Hawk moaned. “I-if you barf, th-then I’m gonna barf!”

“Tell us what you know about Lincoln,” I stated plainly.

“N-never!”

“Suit yourself. It’s clear you’d rather just bash us until our skulls crack like eggs, exposing our brain matter to—”

“Alight, alright! We’ll talk, we’ll talk! J-just shut up!” Hawk conceded.

As expected. I nodded to Lynn, who leapt off of Hank.

“L-look, we don’t know nothing about the note,” said Hank. “But someone did tell us that they would give us the Roosters’ signals if we did a little favor for them.”

“What was this favor?” asked Lynn.

“Th-they wanted that wimpy brother of yours.”

Gasp. I don’t think even the spirits could’ve seen this. So it was these two all along?

“So, wait. You two kidnapped Lincoln?!” Lynn exclaimed. “Who put you up to this?!”

“W-we don’t know!” Hawk sputtered. “They just wrote a letter to our coach asking for us by name.”

“And you were willing to break the law just to beat the Roosters?” I asked.

Hank scoffed. “Hey, it was a good deal. We get to trounce you Roosters and stick it to that loser brother of yours. It’s a win-win.”

Grr. Even when exposed, they show no remorse.

“Where did you take him?” I asked, glowering at the two.

Hawk gulped. “L-look, we just dropped him off at the Royal Woods city limits like the guy said. We don’t know what they did with him, and we don’t care. That’s everything we know.”

“Everything?”

Hank’s eyes darted every which way. “Hawk still wets his bed.”

“Dude! I told you that in confidence!” Hawk protested.

I ventured closer. “Grr. I’m losing my patience.”

The two of them shrank away from me like a poor damsel cowering before a rabid vampire. Lynn put a hand on my shoulder and ventured in front of me.

“I can’t hold her back much longer, guys,” she said. “You’re gonna have to give us something we can use.”

“Th-the comic! The guy hid the signals in that comic!” Hank blurted out. “That’s how we knew about your dumb character! That’s all we know! Honest!”

I overhear Margo musing behind me. “Wow. Never thought I’d see Lynn playing the Good Cop.”

I simply turned to her and shrugged. “Everything’s relative.”

The referee frowned. “I’m sorry to do this, but you leave me no choice. The Hazeltucky Hockers are hereby disqualified.”  He then marched right up to Hank and Hawk. “As for you two, you just confessed to committing a felony. I’m gonna have to call the police about this.”

“You’ll never take us alive!”

Hank and Hawk tried to make a run for it, only to be cornered by the rest of the Roosters. They managed to block their every escape while the referee called security. Sigh. Some souls just never learn their lesson. Lynn scoffed and rolled up her sleeves.

“I got this,” she said.

While Hank and Hawk were distracted by the other players, Lynn ran at them at full speed, shedding her football uniform as she sprinted. She then leapt into the air and grabbed them by the helmets, slamming them into each other with all her might. The force was enough to knock them both to the ground. Lynn leapt off of them and stuck a perfect landing, dusting off her hands.

“That’s for what you did to my brother,” she said. “Phew~! Man, that felt good.”

Sigh. Dang it, Lynn. I don’t think the referee is going to like that. Sure enough, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Um, thanks, Loud,” he said. “But next time, try not to take this kinda stuff into your own hands, alright? It’s not your job to punish these guys, even if they deserve it.”

Lynn sighed. “Sorry, ref. I-I just didn’t want them to get away, y’know?”

The referee sighed again. “I get it, Loud. Still, don’t make a habit out of this.”

“Yessir,” said Lynn with a nod. I’m not sure if she can keep that promise, but I have a feeling she’ll at least try. Whatever the case may be, Hank and Hawk were subdued just as the security detail arrived to take them away.

“Well. I didn’t expect the game to end like that,” said the coach. He smiled at Lynn. “Good work, Loud.”

“Thanks. But really, you should thank Lucy,” said Lynn.

Whoa. It’s always so… surreal to hear Lynn display such modesty. I’m not saying it’s impossible for her to do so; merely that it never fails to catch me off-guard.

“Well, I wasn’t about to abandon you, Lynn,” I said sheepishly. “And it turns out we didn’t abandon Lincoln, either.”

“Y-yeah. I guess we didn’t,” said Lynn. She then walked up to me and pulled me into a hug. I could hear her sobbing as she pulled me close. “Thank you, Luce. Thank you so, so much for staying by my side through all this. I-I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Sigh. I know I give off the impression that I dislike sappy moments like these, but that’s not entirely true. As I said, my black soul does know compassion. I can’t be dark and gloomy all the time. Besides, I think it’s warranted here. I returned Lynn’s loving embrace.

“It’s okay, Lynn,” I said. “It was my duty to support you in your hour of need. And now, we both have to support Lincoln.”

“Assuming he hasn’t been found yet,” said Lynn. “But, yeah. We need to tell the others about this when we get home.”

When we released each other, we were surrounded by the Roosters, all of whom had large smiles on their faces.

“That was awesome, Lynn!” one of the players said. “We actually did it! We got those Hockers but good!”

“That means we’re finally the champions after all these years!” cheered Margo. “You and Lucy are the best!”

Lynn smiled and raised her hand. “Thanks, guys. But, I’m not really in the mood to celebrate right now.”

The Roosters understood right away and backed off. It’s still strange to see Lynn deny herself the chance to bask in her victory, but I see where she’s coming from here. After all, we haven’t really won. Not yet. Lincoln is still out there. Once he’s rescued, then and only then can we truly celebrate.

“Welp, no point in sticking around here,” said the coach. “Hit the showers, Roosters. We’re heading home.”

The Roosters headed over to their locker room in order to get changed. All the while, I couldn’t help but think about what Hank and Hawk said. Someone did pay them to kidnap Lincoln, but they used the Roosters’ football signals. The same signals that Papa Wheelie and Flat Tire stole. There has to be a bigger mastermind pulling the strings, but for the life of me, I can’t imagine who that would be. Even the spirits are silent when I ask them. Sigh. Even if they never lie, I guess they don’t know everything.

Still, they do sense that darkness remains over our family. Even with this significant victory, I feel that our troubles are far from over…

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