Alright, I'm not going to lie to you guys, but...

I have absolutely no clue where I'm going with this story. Truthfully I was just bored and thought about 'hey, I already did a story(my first story, mind you) of Linc being sent to another world, so why can't I make another and all that jazz...

So yeah...here's the result, or whatever...

First I want to give a huge shoutout to TvFan2244, for his help in this little story of mine, even though he denied this once, I'm just gonna say it: Your awesome dude!

Also, a shoutout to Mr. Haziq, if you read this, I want to say sorry that I haven't messaged ya in a while. And also this, my friend. I will still do 'Questionable Repairs' that I promise, just got to tweak it a bit and figure it out a bit more.

Now, I don't know if I will continue this, hell I thought of doing a miniseries of sorts where Linc gets sent to alternate worlds and comes back. Maybe I will.

Leave a review, tell me what y'all think...

Now! Story time...

'Thinking/inner thoughts'

Speech"

~oOo~

Somewhere in Minnesota...

2082...

64 years after infection...

It was cold as it was beautiful, but to the young man atop a black horse, galloping throughout the pristine white snow in temperatures like this, it was just an annoyance, another eye sore, he found no beauty within any of this. The stinging sensation of the freezing winds pelted his face without a single fuck given to him. Like he gave any fucks either. But he pressed on.

White, white, white, and even more white, sides from the brown trees, yet they were covered in white too, that's all what Lincoln saw as he steered hope down towards his direction of interest, and that was anywhere but here. Wherever the hell he was, he doesn't know.

Taking a quick peak down on his little bundle of joy, Lincoln couldn't help but to smile warmly when he saw his baby girl of only a year old, sleep peacefully within the inner confines of the warm, faded, blue blanket, make-shifted into a sling that clung tightly around his upper body. Her tiny body pulled in close to him as his natural warmth helped keep the cold away from her. Added with the help of the equally blue onesie, mittens, and beanie that kept her little white locks hidden from this cruel world. Each were obtained from passing settlements from way back they started.

'Sleep tight, baby girl.' Usinghis free right hand he passed over its share of the reigns to his left, he reached over his head for his worn hood attached to an equally worn out jacket, but, like from before, he has no care. Looking nice gets you nothing here. It did its job well and he was content with it, it made it this far with him.

Yanking it down so it covered the near entirety of his head, even shrouding his face in a dark, intimidating, shadow, only a few of his white locks were visible as they stuck out from the corners and flowed with the lightly howling winds. The seventeen-year-old went after his neck to grip the old orange scarf of his, pulling the fabric up so it covered his mouth and nose, yanking the lose end that flapped next to his shoulder to tighten the neck wear.

"Let's go girl." Gripping the reigns with both hands, he pulled up and smacked all in one motion, signifying Hope to increase her speed, and that she did. With a loud neigh of power and a found energy, she moved faster then before, but enough in a pace that kept Lyla from waking up. He was thankful the continuous bouncing lulled the child to sleep.

The repetitive smacking of his rifle, axe, and revolver was annoying, but also expected, he had to suck it up; he always did. The former of the two hung over his back as the latter was secured on his right hip.

His attention was soon pulled up towards the never ending sky, the majestic blue canopy that hung over a world ravaged by plague, and human violence. Linc caught the sight of crows, a lot of crows, hovering over and circling around an object of their interest. He didn't like what he saw. He learned that nothing good ever comes from crows in this world, hell a flock of them ain't called a murder for nothing.

He pulled Hope over to the left as the trail ahead ended in a steep drop to whatever the hell it went. What he saw made him yank hard, stopping his trusty steed as the familar constricting force wrapped around his stomach once more in renowned paranoia.

Bodies. Two of them to be exact. To be even more analytical: one white and the other black, also both are dudes, so...yeah...extra crap and what not.

This was far from good and he knew it. What the fuck are bodies doing here? What the fuck are people doing here besides them? And what killed them? Those thoughts rushed through his head in the same rapid motion as he analyzed their bodies, but was difficult with all those damn crows in the goddamn way! With a sigh, he knew what he had to do, he didn't like this at all, but it had to be done. Could be anything, fuckers could have pissed the other off and offed the other, but each had good enough shot to kill yeh other, or...bandits. Tightening his right hand into a fist, the mere thought of those sick fucks wandering these parts put on him on edge even more. But the last cause of death...Puppets. Can't be...he hasn't seen any since back in the ruins of the states capital, Saint Paul. No way they could've wandered this far, even if they did they couldn't be able to infect the mammals that roam these parts. The cold should've got to them by then...

...right?...

Till he remembered from the old newspapers and audio diaries he collected over the six years he was transported here. Places like Canada, Russia, Sweden, Norway etc...they were pretty cold too...and they fell too...

Immediately shaking his head in the attempt to purge away the years of nightmare fuel he acquired during his time here, the teen was about to hop off Hope, until...

"Dada!"

His attention instinctively shifted down on the baby girl who extended both arms in the attempt to reach for her daddy, no doubt she yearned to be held between his strong arms as she snuggled in within them, safe, secured, and completely loved. It hurt him a bit, like always it did, no matter how many times he stares deep into her innocent gaze, unaware of the horrors that lie and wait in her world, her green eyes...Liz...

Feeling the sudden sensation as if he was being chocked by an invisible hand that refused to let go as it took away his only source of oxygen at the current moment. But he's also happy she got her eyes...her mommies eyes. They're beautiful. She's beautiful. They both are. His girls...or girl now...he misses her so...

He sat on the saddle with both legs dangling over the ground. "Well looks who awake. Sleep well, Lyla?"

She responded with more gibberish and what he describes as a beautiful giggle. Soon her attention was pulled towards the crows flying above them, she clapped and pointed with a mitten covered hand as she tried to reach for them instead. "Dada, Buh! Dada, Buh!"

He chuckled from her attempts. "Yeah, baby girl. Buh indeed." He knows he shouldn't be smiling, nor laughing in time like this, but you can't blame him. "Sorry, baby girl." Adopting an apologetic frown, eyes staring ahead at the two corpses playing buffet for those damn flying shits. "Daddy has to do something first." Gripping his revolver, eyes hard and full of no remorse for whats coming. Be iit man or Puppet, he was ready.

Feet crushing the snow from great force of his body weight, making sure Lyla is still safely secured, the young man quickly popped open the cylinder of his firearm with one hand, muttering a few dark curses as he only saw two rounds. Even quicker than before he checked his surroundings and leaned over towards Hope's side, where his pack was located, and dug in, finding what he sought after, the teen loaded the extra four .38 special as fast as he closed it back in place.

'CLIIIICK'

With the hammer pulled back, bullet in standby, ready to fuck up anyone or thing that decides to jump out the snow covered bushes, he took the first steps towards the closest one; the black man.

Shooing the crows away. No doubt some of those flying were pissed that a human of all things would cross their territory, for amusement purposes he imagined one the birds cawing out, "Fuck you human!" The mere thought of that made his mouth twitch up a bit but nothing more than that.

'Heh' well fuck you too...' Crouching down on his level, amusement gone. Lyla wasn't even aware of what was happening, her attention was aimed towards the environment around her as she gazed in wonder. Linc made sure she did not even see a glimpse of the body.

From just looking him over, he didn't even need to touch him. He saw what he calls fuck-holes, you probably call them bullet wounds. Three in total: one puncturing his lung, the other in the thigh, no doubt that was in attempt in dropping him first, while the last was caved in his head; skull and brain littered the ground for inches beyond. Close range, he deduced...point blank.

"Nothing," he muttered. He checked his pockets, pants, jacket, etc. nothing besides a couple empty bullet casings on em'

No one is stupid enough to go unarmed anywhere. What made it more strange is that he saw the outline of a gun, a pistol, on the snow, but it's not there...stolen?

Fuck, he didn't like this...

He was fresh...

Darting his eyes towards his buddy, pulling himself up on his feet, not before grunting from the painful sounding pops and cracks that emanated from the joints in his knees. "Fuuuck, I'm getting old-OH," he shut his mouth shut and gazed down at Lyla, sighing in relief when she was focused on the snowflakes now falling from the sky and onto the earth. "You didn't here that, ok?" He really didn't want her to start cussing before she could say daddy properly.

"Snooo!" She giggled when a lone snowflake kissed her nose, engulfing her tiny being into a shiver she enjoyed greatly and embraced.

The teen smiled as he walked towards the dead white man. "Yeah, snooo..."

Though, he did stop for a split second in morbid fascination when he caught the sight of a crow that stuck around, its beak poking and savoring the salty eye juices topped off with the side of irony blood as it tore part the skin surrounding his right eye.

"Get." Kicking away the bird, receiving a "Fuck you human." He kneeled down and did the same process he did with his buddy. Bullet wounds? Check. Total? Just two, one in the heart, other in the left lung. His pockets? Empty.

Shit...

No way was it infected. They don't fuck with the dead, unless they were hungry, but these guys weren't mutilated or have any claw, bite—no marks at all, sans the bullet wounds...

He caught the sight of footprints...leading to the bushes...

Double shit...

He knew he had to check...

Triple shit...

Standing on his feet, ignoring the pain in his knees, he speed walked towards the bushes. He stopped when he saw what he needed to see: a backpack—two backpacks, or what's left of them. Broken, torn, and tossed away after they were searched clean of any precious material they held.

Shit times four...

That's all he needed to know. He backtracked towards Hope, de-cocking and holstering his revolver, ignoring Lyla's random gibberish, he gripped the reigns once more and as he sat on the saddle ready to go, his stomach growled...

...nothing but shit today, huh?...

Hunger overpowered him. He may have enough mush to last Lyla from the last villages/settlements they passed a while back. But him? He hadn't eaten for sometime and it was taking its toll on him. But what's there to even-

And there's a rabbit...well, one more time, shit...he just stared at the white bunny as it hopped along its merry way, unaware of the hungry human, jumping down a path that led towards what used to be old lodges...

He blinked. "I can go for rabbit..."

~oOo~

Royal Woods, Michigan...

Loud House residence...

2023...

The moon hung safely above the skies as it gazed down, shining its low, natural light on this part of world, while the rest is engulfed by the never ending darkness that naturally comes and goes every time. The stars, though few in number, are seen, as the rest are shrouded by the light pollution emanated from the city itself.

One would expect a night of rest and bliss dreams, or horrid nightmares that have no problem ravaging your mind as its torn apart piece by piece as one would probably wake up panting, screaming, or wetting their sheets, maybe all three. But for one little girl, she had no time for rest. The last six years was her nightmare.

Within the confines of Royal Woods literal loudest house, home of the Louds, though the tone has fell as the tune wasn't the same as it was before six years ago. It was still loud, but not the same.

Lisa Loud, now ten years old, glided through the pitch black hallway as she approached her and her youngest siblings shared room, grateful that Lily opted to spend this night with at one of her many friends house, using this to her advantage. Rubbing the bags from her eyes she gripped the knob and opened the door as fast as she shut it, not caring at how loud it was, no doubt pissing off a few of the younger occupants as the older siblings, sans the dumb blonde, went out to do their own thing.

And there it was. The machine that started it all. Oh how it mocked her so. What was once a piece of great ingenuity birthed from her own powerful mind, what was supposed to bring what was once science fiction into reality. Awe, that was her goal to bring upon the other great minds that played judges that day.

Winning...she may not be as competitive as Lynn, but that's what she sought after that day. Something the Loud sisters each have in common. Each one with great talents, unique to the person. None are greater nor are they inferior to the other as they bring them strength and victory in the multitude of competitions each one has participated and won...

Except him...

Their own brother. Her big brother...emotion flooded through her once more as she tried not to cry again, but failed as a lone, stray, salty tear slid down her left eye, leaving a stain on her cheek. Removing her glasses she wiped the liquid sadness, but she can't wipe away the pain...that's something else entirely.

It was her fault. That was what she told herself. Thats what her own siblings said to her. In reality it wasn't and they knew it. But...people are not in their right mind when they're angry, people will always do stupid things when that emotion, the one that brings pain and nothing but negative feelings, is in control. The only ones who hasn't shown her any form of malice were, of course, her own parental units and her youngest sibling/roommate. Leni was kind to her and understood (surprisingly) she wasn't at fault, accidents happen. Later, the rest came around, but the trust wasn't there anymore. She was thankful they would forgive her, yet she knows they haven't truly done so, but that's ok...she understands...

The six years was peaceful...in a way. Well, 'sides the twins constant fighting, that never seemed to end at all anyway. She hasn't done, or even touched on the thought of an experiment for the entirety of those years. Nothing, nada, neit, nein. Explosions ceased, her famous "I'm still alive!" Quote from everytime a serious one were to ever literally blow up in her face. The roof hasn't flew up in years. The reason:

She had one objective, and that's to bring her long lost older brother back...wherever the hell he is...

But tonight's the night, all her hardwork, struggle and self hate, it all ends here. A signal. That's all she needed as she stared once more with misty eyes at the computer screen. It was weak, but it was there and that's all she really cared about. The only issue was that she had no idea where it was located, too scrambled, nothing in the maps showed, but it beeped. She knew he was smart, so there's no doubt he kept the beacon with him, well she hopes he did...no...no more doubt. She shook her head, expression serious, she was ready. This hell must end.

With a few more taps from her keyboard, the command was set, the teleporter came to life, it hummed with electrical power surging through its wired, multicolored, veins. Crackling was heard and seen within the inside of the machine as the elctricity arched and wrapped around itself in an unpredictable mannor.

Her hands shook, sweaty palms she had wiped on her jeans multiple times already. Gripping the remote, she aimed it, and pressed the button...

...nothing...

No.

She pressed it again...

Still nothing...

Th...this can't...NO!...

'Click'

I'm sorry child...

'Click'

Life isn't fair...

'Click-Click-Click-Click'

It's ok to scream...it's ok to cry...

'Click-Click-Click-Click-Click-Click...she dropped to her knees, the remote fell out her hands. Tears fell from her eyes...

But it won't change a god damn thing...

And that's how it went that night. Lisa removed her glasses, not caring as she let them fall on the floor, she placed her palms to her face as she tried to hold on, at least gain some control of her emotion, but failed miserably.

"Failure," she croaked. "You—Your nothing more than a damn failure."

She doesn't believe in God—why should she? She's a woman of science after all, she searches truth, not mythical mumbo jumbo...but that night...like all other nights from before...she prayed...

The question:

Did god here her plea this time?...

~oOo~

Back with Lincoln and baby Lyla...

Somewhere in Minnesota...

2082...

64 years after infection...

With a homemade bow and arrow in hand, Lincoln took aim. Both his and Lyla's breath visible from the frigid air as they exhaled, the formers throat burned from the cold touch, while the latter enjoyed the feeling. The baby was curious, her adorable eyes locked on her papa as she watched in immense fascination at what he was doing.

Slightly crouched down, the young teen examined the little white bunny carefully once more. It was small, but it'll do for now. But his main concern was infection-it always will be. The virus soley infected mammals, but he knew it was safe. The rabbit didn't twitch in a manic state, no leakage of bodily fluids from the eyes or ears, nor did it foam at all-it was in control of itself.

And it'll taste fucking delicious. Ahh~ rabbit. His stomach grumbled from the mere thought of meat-actual delicious meat.

"No hard feelings, little guy," he had the shot, "but a guys got ta' eat," and he released.

The arrow flew, it twirled, it impaled. It did its job, and it did it well. He watched as the rabbit flew from the force, neck skewered as blood painted the white snow in red. Life began to fade, yet it held on the best it could with whatever strength it had left, or even had in the first place. The sight of the large human standing above it did nothing but accelerate its already fast paced heart into new levels of speed. Front teeth opening and closing, gagging on its own blood that continued to drown it in the irony taste. It was all over when the human lifted it up to his level from the arrow.

Linc was quite impressed on how it held on, "Tough little bastard, aren't ya?" Whispering the bastard part, for obvious reasons. The only signs of life left was its right eye rolling up and down its own socket, and it's bottom leg kicking every few seconds, either than that; damn thing is dead as dead can be. Looking over, he saw Lyla trying to reach, and at least get a glimpse of what he caught. With a shrug he brought the now dead rabbit closer to his daughter, who's expression lighted up as she tried to reach for the deceased animal.

"How 'bout that, huh baby girl?"

She continued to reach. "Bun! Bun!"

He chuckled at her adorable gibberish. "Yeah, bun—Whoops!" A droplet of blood fell from the imapled edges of its neck and onto Lyla's forehead, splattering a bit of her benie a bit as well, but the baby giggled, not even a bit disturbed from what just happened.

Linc quickly reached down and pulled out a rag from his black cargo pants right pocket, "Heh' sorry, sweetheart," and wiped away the blood. "There," he announced. "Now this." Gripping the arrow he yanked with ease; a sickening noise of torn flesh, and maybe a bit of bone, resonated for a quick second as he also pulled off white fur and even more blood that flew and stained his upper right arm. Not that he really minded, or even cared at all. There was a time where blood will faze him, 'specially blood of something as innocent as this bunny, it's life taken by his hands, well technically this arrow, but you get what he means.

"There," flicking the arrow of any more of the red bodily liquid, he proceeded back to Hope, old girl was stayed right where he left her, between a set of bushes and a small stack of rocks, each covered in a layer of snow, and still falling snowflakes. With one hand, in a fluid motion, he gripped, wrapped, and tightly secured a length of dark brown rope around the multilated throat of the rabbit, letting go and watching as it dangled in place- left and right, right and left, all in one motion of the same position.

"Alright," he mutters as he gripped Hopes's reigns, right foot inside the stirrup. He was about to lift himself up until a metallic stinging sensation made him hiss from the mere feel of it on his bare skin, dropping himself onto the ground. He dug inside his jacket, underneath his stained and stitch ridden white shirt, he found the culprit. What was once an expression of annoyance switched immedialty into a soft frown as he stared deep at the little faded, reddish orb that once glowed with light, but now stayed dead for over six years.

All he has left of...them...

The beacon...

To think it all started like that, he mused. He misses them dearly, everyday, but...he had to let go, it was only right...he couldn't let his feelings cloud his mind in this hell he was accidentally sent to. He had to survive, fight...rid himself of his own humanity so many times before...he has to protect her now. Gazing down at Lyla with a soft smile as the baby cooed at her daddy.

With a heavy sigh, he gripped the beacon firmly within his palm as he shook it up and down for a good three seconds before letting it fall back in place, "Let's go," hopping back up on Hope they took off, but only in a slow pace as he decided to at least sight see a bit. Nothing much to see, but better than nothing: old cabins and maybe some hunting lodges from way before stood, snow covered roofs, some caved in, others with their doors torn from their hinges, windows bashed and shatterd, he also saw some old scorch marks.

Nothing really new to him, or to anyone who calls this hell whole of a world home...

As he continued to stroll about he didn't notice the faint glow of the beacon, the red flashed for a brief second before dying, but if one were to look closely they could easily see a faint sign of life in the core, faint, but still there.

His mind wandered back towards those two dead men, a sense of understandable worry continued to fill his gut as he felt the familiar paranoia go through him. He's more terrified of the normal people than the Puppets, at least the latters predictable. Humans are something else entirely when they're in full control of themselves, capable of shit so terrfying, so wrong...Jesus...he sometimes wonders what's the fuck wrong with him now. There was time where he would flinch from the mere of thought of one of Lynn's auto-attack games, now he doesn't bat an eye when someone's head is severed infront of him, or if he's the one doing the severing. He's mutialted, broken, burnt, even suffocated people to death in these long six years. Does he regret it?...

...maybe the answer is yes...I mean with the nightmares and all, but...those have always been there since he saw first hand at what's out there. He wonders if they're even truly safe, but this is his best option, to raise Lyla the best he can, for her to be safe, that was his...it was their plan, but with Liz...gone...

His eyes harden into an emotionless, determined stare as he focused only on the path ahead, which did not change in scenery as it stayed in a perfect run on of snow, snow and even more fucking snow, plus the rundown cabins, trees and bushes, but nothing new...

...until he heard someone, a man, cry out in pain, nothing but agony, he ceased Hope's movements, his breathing ceased as well, even Lyla felt the shift of the atmosphere become far more somber-more grey than earlier...

He knew those types of screams well...

He should have made them turn the opposite direction, get away, gallop faster than ever, but he couldn't. It all happened so fast that he had no time at all.

He watched as the man fell onto the snow, no doubt forcefully, his left arm bleeding profusely, his panicked expression darting behind him, he was running away, Linc deduced. But when his eyes landed on himself, Lincoln had no time to react as the man threw up his good arm up, hand in a pleading motion, "Help me!," his cries echoed. It disturbed Lyla that she whimpered. "PLEAS-GAK!" Another man, one with a navy blue hood shrouding his face, came up behind him, thrusting a makeshift wooden spear with great force it pierced through the poor bastards back and out where his left lung was located. Poor bastard choked and convulsed, trying to hold on, eyes focused soley on the protruding tool of death raping his insides with ease.

"Fuckin' finally!" Another voice shouted, another man, this one with a puke green scarf wrapped around his face, only his blonde hair stuck out from the edges, goggles covered his eyes. His right hand gripped an old revolver, while the other held onto a two pairs of rope connecting to two horses.

Linc had to get out of here, but he froze when hood glared at him. Both held their gazes for what seemed like an eternity.

Scarf didn't see him, but was confused on what his buddy was doing, "Oye, what you see?" His question was answered when he followed his friends extended index. Underneath his scarf, he grinned maliciously. Ohhohoho~ another fishy has come to play, to bad he didn't notice the revolver in his hand and the rifle strapped to his back.

And Linc wasn't going to lose to these fucks. Quickly he aimed his revolver at whoever was in his sights, scarf took the first step but nearly fell on his ass when a round nearly tore his right thigh, missing and hitting the snowy ground instead. "MOTHER FUCKER!" Both men scampered towards their startled horses. "You sonava bitch!"

And thus the hunt began...

Horses neighed, profanity was thrown and bullets whizzed from both directions as Linc and scarf played cowboy, while hood held onto his spear, unable to do anything besides keeping his head down and swerving his horse into left, in the hopes of not getting shot. Lyla was used to the roars of gunfire as she had heard it so many times before that her infant ears has registered it as normal, but in this moment, she sensed her fathers anger, she heard his bit out curses, she didn't like this...so she whimpered, tears pricking from the edges of her beautiful green eyes, lips quivered.

The mere sight, even if it was just a quick glance, was enough to make the teenage father hurt. His heartstrings were tugged violently as his eyes registered his baby girls face, her whimpers made him grit his teeth harder than before, there sheer emotional pain of seeing his little girl hurt in a time like this driven him further, to the point where he was set on bashing both those bastards heads with his fists. He would have consoled her, hold her little form tightly between his heavily scarred arms, whisper that it will be alright, but he couldn't, not now, and he hated that.

He winced when hood finally spoke, but it wasn't words, it was a battle cry; the sheer savagery, high pitched volume of it echoed throughout the snowy landscape. Spear raised to the air, eyes on fire as his sights are soley on the ashen haired survivor and his stuff, unaware of the baby at all. His cries reminded Linc of those movies of the Native Americans rushing into battle, clubs and all, their whooping war cry ushering a blanket of fear onto the invading white man. And this guy mimicked it perfectly.

But what he didn't know is that it was more than just a battle cry...it was a signal...but it was already to late. More men came out of nowhere, brandishing an assortment of weapons, be it melee or firearm based, they jumped out the bushes like wolves, the shere bloodlust is so ripe in the air that any idiot can feel it, even taste it.

With just four shots left, he took aim at what's infront of him and pulled the trigger. The one with a machete gripped his chest as he fell onto the frigid ground, choking in his own blood, his comrades left him, but one scavenged his near dead corpse for anything valuable before joining the fight in hand. Lyla was nearing the tipping point where the damn holding her tears was close to total collapse.

In his path, the young man left behind two more fresh corpses, each with equally new fuck-holes within their very being, but they kept coming. He only had one round left; he cursed when he had to use two on the last guy, 'Fuckin' leg shot,' he growled within his mind. It's good to put someone down, but not so great when you want to put 'em down for good with the first shot.

He actually held hope they could make it out of this skirmish, but that hope, like so many before, must die. Hidden from plain view, within the prickly confines of the bushes, snow peppered his jacket, a hunting rifle in hand, the bandit followed path of Hope's movements, taking aim as he steadied the rusted iron sights on her head. With a sly grin, he pulled the trigger...

It was a perfect shot. Hope's skull was caved in, the bullet stirred her brain, and finally exited it out the other end. Her neck snapped from the force, finally she fell as if she were nothing; taking Linc and Lyla with her. The young man gasped from the sudden drop, letting go of the reigns as he instantly wrapped his arms around Lyla, to prevent her from feeling the fall he twisted his body so he fell back first. Hope layed dead, only her back leg kicked once before the grim reality settled in. Finally, Lyla cried. Her wails echoed louder and were greater than the bandits savage cries.

"What the fuck?" Linc immediatly stood up with a grunt when he heard the clear voice of one of the bandits, "Is that a baby?" Fuck! He moved fast, nearly slipping but regained his footing as he made it to Hope's corpse. With a final pat on her side, he gripped his backpack and sprinted fast. Lyla continued to cry, her father tried his best to silence her cries, but it won't change a damn thing. They saw him.

"There!" A bandit pointed as hood, from before, flung his spear at the ashen haired boy and baby girl. It missed, but Linc heard the whizzing past him fast, a new found great motivator, he ran faster.

As if so called luck was on his side, he spotted a lone cabin, though broken, taken over by nature, he took it, aimed for it, and sprinted so fast that it would put a certain athlete to shame from the sheer power of his legs muscle; a baby, rifle, axe and backpack holding his stuff, including arrows and bow, adding to the weight and this boy is just pushing through.

The beacon glowed again, this time brighter and in a rapid fashion of three until pausing on the third, then repeat...

What was thought to be a fight between members of what's left of the human race would soon be interrupted as the third player, the nightmare that has ravaged this world with its infection, would awake from within the cabins that were thought to be abandoned. Drawn towards the screaming, savagery, primal roars, blood and resonating cracks of bullets flying. With stained teeth bared, bodies never ceasing in their convulsing state, multiple inhuman roars echoed throughout the icy air, shaking every non-infected to their core.

~oOo~

Royal Woods, Michigan...

Loud House Residence...

2023...

Lisa, after sometime, has finally ceased in her sobbing fit, yet she continued to hiccup everynow and again, her eyes ran dry of tears, but it left her red and puffy with a slight blur in her already crappy eyesight.

She starred blankly at the laptop; the faint red continued to blink in a slow mannor. It was mocking her. It should've work, he should be here, all those years and she still failed! Gritting her teeth she slammed the computer close, not caring if she caused any permanent damage to the device.

With hands clenched in strained fist that shook from the mere force of her great anger and self hate, the young genius glared at the teleporter. Not caring at all from the repercussions of what would come next, she cocked her right fist and thrusted it with great force that the metal hide vibrated and rung like a bell. She continued to do so for at least forty-five seconds, her fist met the metal, ignoring the pain, ignoring it all, until-

"HEY!" Einstein stopped her left fist an inch before it made contact, faints traces of blood staining the steely grey metal. The bratty voice of her equally bratty older sister, Lola, pierced through the extremely thin walls. "Cut that crap off! Someone's trying to get some much needed beauty sleep!" the twelve year old twin was accompanied by other smaller voices of her siblings voicing in agreement as they too want some much needed sleep.

Dropping her hands, she gazed at her now bruised hands, turning them over, her knuckles were red from both blood and bruising, some skin was torn, and finally, she hissed through her teeth from the lingering pain that came back full force. The young girl curled and uncurled her fists. Tiny, but noticeable, dents were visible from her punching moments ago.

She just...couldn't take anymore...not tonight. Removing her glasses the young genius rubbed her face once more and sighed. Already knowing the way, she threw a tarp over the teleporter, and made contact with her bed headfirst. Shutting her eyes, Lisa let much needed sleep consume her.

Like so many times before: failure...but not this time...

~oOo~

Back with Lincoln and baby Lyla

Somewhere in Minnesota...

2082...

64 years after infection...

With the broken door shut, the cracked window bashed from the butt of his rifle, Linc crouched down, making sure Lyla was safe from harm as her body was hidden from plain view, but her wails continued; damn that girl has some lungs. He looked on as he saw the bandits scamper away, but not from him, but from the monstrous infected, or as they are known: Puppets. Like always, the freaks of nature came out of nowhere; sprinting, lunging and downright savagely ripping apart any non-infected caught in their sights. The bandits were scared-he was scared. But he couldn't show it...not to his baby...

With a soft voice, "Lyla." The baby ceased her crying when her fathers voice registered in her ears, looking up, his warm, fatherly, but extremely worn, faded blue eyes caught hers, "It's ok," he smiled, just a bit, but it was enough. "Daddy's here. I'll always be here. I'll always protect you." Leaning down he gave her a small kiss on her forehead. "My baby girl..." He finished.

Little Lyla could only stare up at her father with those big ol' eyes of her, filled with wonder, though there were still some tears left, she had completely ceased her crying. The one-year-old giggled, ignoring all of it; all the screaming of pleas and No's, the savage inhuman roars of who were once human themselves, it was as if it wasn't there in the first place.

A smile broke out on her face, little arms extended, "Dada!" She exclaimed.

Linc chuckled lowly, "That's my girl."

Corpses and nightmares. That was all there was when he awoke in this hell. Lyla is his light. She is all he has left. And he'll be damned if he fails!

He took aim, watching as the two bandits from earlier: Hood and Scarf, all that's left of their group as all men, horses included, were hunted down like animals, torn and clawed to death, or, left to fester in infection as the parasite began to take hold of their twisted minds. Hoods body was completely swarmed with them, only his right arm was visible, spear a few feet away from him. Scarf was still kicking, literally. Screaming as they kept coming, no matter how hard he tried these monsters pushed back harder; biting, clawing, ripping him apart. With no other option, he wasn't going to turn. He pulled his revolver and quickly placed the barrel to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Now their attention was on him...

Fuck that.

Pulling the trigger, the young man watched as the freaks from hell sprinted towards his position, chests were torn apart, heads blown with brain alongside the mess, gross flesh flew, some fell to ground as they suffocated on their own blood as it flooded their lungs and internal organs. They are not people. Not anymore. Not like he cared anyway.

But no matter how many he put down the bastards kept coming. For every Puppet he killed, another would gain more ground than the other, and he knew when they come the door cannot hold at all.

'BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!' He just kept firing. His only real motivators being his will to survive, the drive to protect his girl, and said girls cries of "Dada!" No doubt her version of chanting him on.

'CLICK-CLICK-CLICK...oh fuck me. With a growl and a barked out, "Mother-" he removed the empty magazine, stuffing it away for later, as he was about to pull out a fresh one out his side, the beacon came to life...

The teen had no time to react as whiplike, high powered strands of electricity completely wrapped around his and Lyla's form, the latter confused and in awe at the bright blue light that just seemed to glow brighter, but her father could only look on in complete, utter shock, eyes bulging out and mouth agape underneath his scarf...

No...it can't be...it couldn't have—it shouldn't be working at all...how...why?!

Using his current predicament to their advantage a few of the infected broke through the door with ease. Linc was brought back to reality and only saw death staring back at him, the multiple faces of death. In a frenzy state the Puppet in front lunged at him, dead set on him and the baby. Lyla felt her fathers distress, his fear and when the chilling cry of their attacker came at them she once again broke out in wails. He couldn't move, the electrical wraps kept him in place.

...maybe luck is real and the bitch decided to turn the other cheek and smile on them...

Like a defensive barrier the elctricity sensed the infected and shot out, tearing its body apart and leaving a singed heap of burnt flesh and other nasties. Linc could only stare gobsmacked as he watched the rest of them follow the others to their deaths.

All the father and daughter saw was blue and white, white and blue- it didn't matter, those are the only colors they saw as the electricity covered not just the entirety of their forms, but their sight as well. With whatever strength he had left, Linc wrapped his arms around his daughter.

"Lyla!" he shouted.

Finally...they were gone...just like that...all that remained was a multitude of bodies, scorched marks, bullet casings and the lingering stench of death...

~oOo~

Outskirts of Royal Woods, Michigan...

2023...

Within the grassy fields of Royal Woods dawn has broken in, with it the sun has poked his bright head. Crickets were replaced by the birds that sung their luscious melody, simple, but soothing tunes. Various other day creatures awoke and began to roam around their home as the nocturnal ones went to bed. It was peaceful...

Until it wasn't...

Out of nowhere a fissure of electricity sparked and cracked in a crazed fashion of no control, scaring the hell out of nearly all the surrounding critters.

A loud thump was heard, accompanied with the audible wailing of a baby. As the light died a familar figure was scene passed out, but his arms were still wrapped around Lyla, yet her cries never ceased. The only signs of life was the rise and fall of his chest, but other than that he didn't move a muscle...

One things for sure...he was home...

~oOo~

[Outro- Civilian by Wye Oak]

And that's that, I hope y'all enjoyed this and whatnot.

Please leave a review and tell me what y'all think.

Till next time...

Hound out...