História Harem 101: I Became Lincoln Loud - Chapter 2: Murder Case

Chapter 2: Murder Case

 

"Breaking news: A shocking murder case has just been reported in the city. The victim, a seventeen-year-old male, was allegedly under the influence of narcotics at the time of his death. Authorities suspect that a violent confrontation occurred between him and either a drug dealer or a criminal gang. Currently, the police are investigating the case, but details remain scarce. Witnesses claim to have heard gunshots in the area, and traces of illicit substances were found near the crime scene. Law enforcement urges citizens to remain vigilant and avoid wandering into isolated areas after dark. The city officials are now considering stricter regulations to curb the rise in gang-related activities. More updates will follow as the investigation unfolds."

 

The Loud family gathered in the living room, watching the news in silence. The gravity of the situation hung over them like a dark cloud. The idea that a murderer or a dangerous gang was roaming the city made stepping outside a terrifying thought.

 

"Alright, girls, and Lincoln, this is serious," Mr. Loud spoke with an unusually firm tone, his expression filled with worry. "You must not go out at night under any circumstances. We don’t know what might happen if any of you run into these dangerous individuals. Everyone must be home before six in the evening. Is that clear?"

 

Lincoln lounged on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest as Lisa pressed closer to his side, her small fingers lightly gripping his shirt. Lily curled up in his lap, letting out a soft yawn. Lincoln remained composed, his expression giving little away, though the warmth of Lisa’s body against him was something he quietly acknowledged. he could feel the subtle way Lisa held onto him, as if grounding herself in his presence.

 

For everyone else, it seemed as if the news barely affected him, his expression calm and unmoved, as if the news had nothing to do with him.

 

—Twelve Hours Earlier—

 

"Ah, Lisa, you are simply the epitome of adorable," Lincoln said, pulling Lisa into a warm embrace.

 

"E-excuse me, sibling, but personal displays of affection are rather inefficient and ultimately superfluous in most social interactions," Lisa responded, her usual matter-of-fact tone faltering slightly as her small frame stiffened in his arms. A faint pink hue dusted her cheeks, betraying her supposed indifference.

 

Lincoln chuckled, tightening his hug slightly before releasing her. Just then, a tiny, sweet voice called out to him.

 

"Inkun, Inkun," came the soft coos from the crib. Lincoln turned to see Lily lying in her bed, dusted with a fine layer of soot from the earlier explosion.

 

"Oh, so you want a hug from your big brother too?" Lincoln said, lifting the little girl effortlessly. He glanced back at Lisa, shaking his head. "Seriously, Lisa, dangerous experiments in front of Lily too? That’s a little reckless, don’t you think?"

 

Lisa adjusted her glasses, looking away. "As I have previously elaborated, no significant physiological harm was inflicted upon any member of the household. Therefore, concerns regarding safety are largely unfounded."

 

Lincoln smirked. "Right, because getting covered in soot is completely fine."

 

Lisa cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "Collateral residue from scientific exploration is an acceptable byproduct of progress. A simple cleansing procedure shall rectify any inconvenience."

 

"Uh-huh. Just try to be more careful," Lincoln sighed before setting Lily back down. "Alright, I’m heading out now. See you later."

 

After changing into a fresh set of clothes, Lincoln left the house, mentally reviewing his plans for the day. With Lincoln Loud’s memories fully integrated into his own, he confirmed it was Saturday, meaning he had free time to focus on his new goals.

 

'Alright, my first official day as Lincoln Loud. System, I need a way to keep track of my thoughts and strategies. Can you create some kind of journal or log?'

 

[System Message: Initializing personal log feature... Success!]

 

[New function unlocked: Host’s Personal Journal]

 

[This feature will allow the Host to record daily experiences, reflections, and strategies for future reference. Would you like to begin your first entry?]

 

'Absolutely. Start logging my thoughts.'

 

[Recording...]

 

[Day One: Today, I awoke as Lincoln Loud in an entirely new world. Initially, my instincts warned me to be wary of the most intelligent sisters in the family—Lisa and Lucy. However, upon integrating Lincoln Loud’s original memories, I realized that my prior assumptions were flawed. My first interactions with Lisa confirmed that she is perceptive, yet not inherently opposed to my behavioral shifts.]

 

'Great, now let’s get started. My body is weak, so my top priority is training. Military Points are essential, and I need a solid base for my progress,' Lincoln thought, grabbing his backpack filled with necessities.

 

—Some Time Later—

 

After wandering deep into the forest, Lincoln finally stumbled upon what he was looking for—a secluded cave. He stepped inside, surveying the space with a satisfied nod. "Perfect. This will make a solid base for my training," he muttered to himself.

 

'Alright, System, let’s begin. Back in my old life, I was an amateur boxer, strong but not professional. Even so, I was skilled enough. No matter what kind of training I do, I’ll earn Military Points, right?'

 

[System Notification: Training Parameters Detected...]

 

[Affirmative! The Host will earn Military Points based on training intensity, duration, and complexity.]

 

Lincoln began his warm-ups, gradually increasing his movements before diving into boxing drills. However, it quickly became apparent that his current body lacked the strength and endurance he once possessed. Every punch and motion felt sluggish, his breathing becoming ragged far sooner than expected.

 

After two agonizing hours, he collapsed onto the ground, shirtless, his body drenched in sweat, muscles aching from the strain.

 

"Damn… this is way harder than I remember," Lincoln panted, catching his breath before directing his gaze upward. "Alright, System, give me the results."

 

[Training Session Completed!]

 

[Evaluation: Beginner Level]

 

[Time Spent: 2 Hours]

 

[Calories Burned: High]

 

[Fatigue Level: Significant]

 

[Muscle Adaptation: Minor]

 

[Reward: +2 Military Points]

 

"You're joking with me, aren't you?!!" Lincoln exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief. His entire body ached from the strenuous training, yet he lacked the energy to express his frustration fully. Instead, he groaned loudly, his breath ragged. "Ughhh," he let out a drawn-out groan, his sore muscles screaming in protest.

 

"One measly point per hour?! You've got to be kidding me!"

 

[System Notification:]

 

[Training results have been processed.]

 

[Host’s current performance is considered below average for an optimized combatant. Adaptation to this body is required to improve efficiency.]

 

[More intense and high-risk training will yield greater Military Points. Additionally, training against actual opponents will provide a substantial increase in points.]

 

[Additional Methods to Increase Military Points:]

 

- Engaging in combat with formidable opponents.

 

- Securing victories in life-threatening battles.

 

- Eliminating adversaries in critical scenarios.

 

- Surviving dire life-or-death confrontations.

 

- Achieving strategic dominance over dangerous individuals.

 

Lincoln sat up slightly, leaning his back against the rough stone wall of the cave. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, scowling at the system's words.

 

'Can you at least categorize these situations by difficulty level so I can plan better?'

 

[Difficulty Level Breakdown:]

 

- F-Rank – Basic physical training (Current training level).

 

- F+ Rank – Training with individuals of equal strength.

 

- E-Rank – Training against stronger opponents (opponent strength determines exact ranking).

 

- E- Rank – Non-training combat against enemies of equal power.

 

- C-Rank – Non-training combat against superior opponents (Opponent’s strength & battle risk determine rating).

 

- C+ Rank – Eliminating an opponent of equal strength.

 

- B-Rank – Eliminating a stronger opponent (Difficulty scales based on opponent’s power level).

 

The system's explanation ended there, leaving Lincoln slightly unsatisfied.

 

"What about the higher levels? There has to be an A or S Rank, right?" Lincoln questioned, his voice tinged with curiosity and exhaustion.

 

[Higher difficulty levels are only available via special mission parameters.]

 

[Mission Levels Scale from A, S, SS, SSS, to EX.]

 

Lincoln clicked his tongue in irritation. "So unless I start taking actual risks or fighting someone, my point accumulation is going to crawl at a snail’s pace," he muttered, his frown deepening.

 

[More dangerous and lethal training regimens will significantly enhance Military Point accumulation. Do you wish to enable extreme training?]

 

Lincoln hesitated for a second before shaking his head. "Not yet. I need to be stronger before I throw myself into something suicidal."

 

"Alright, system, when’s my first real mission?" Lincoln asked, his body still recovering from the intense session.

 

[Mission Feature Unlocked!]

 

[The host may now access the Daily Mission Tab to check for available tasks. Urgent missions will be sent automatically.]

 

Lincoln opened the mission interface as the system instructed.

 

[Military Missions: 0]

 

[Training Military Mission: 1]

 

[Harem Missions: 0]

 

[Training Harem Mission: 1]

 

[Note: Standard missions will not unlock until training missions are successfully completed.]

 

"Open the military mission," Lincoln ordered.

 

[Training Military Mission Details:]

 

[Target Location: Eastern Outskirts of Royal Woods]

 

[Organization Involved: Black Flower Gang]

 

[Criminal Activities: Illegal narcotics trade (marijuana)]

 

[Threat Level: Moderate to High]

 

[The Black Flower Gang is considered an outlawed criminal syndicate involved in illicit activities and smuggling operations. Their base is moderately guarded, and access to their inner dealings requires infiltration or deception.]

 

[Choose Your Mission Path:]

 

[Path of Good: You strive to be a righteous force, upholding justice and protecting the community. Your mission is to infiltrate the gang’s headquarters, gather concrete evidence of their illegal operations, and report them to the authorities.]

 

[Mission Level: C]

 

[Path of Evil: You operate with a self-serving mindset, prioritizing personal power and ambition. Your objective is to infiltrate the gang’s base, steal all valuable contraband (drugs and any profitable items) and use them to fund your own criminal network. Your rise to dominance begins now.]

 

[Mission Level: B]

 

Lincoln smirked. "Yeah, I was never exactly a law-abiding citizen in my last life. Let’s take the evil path."

 

[Path of Evil Selected.]

 

[This alignment choice will influence future missions and interactions.]

 

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed as he absorbed the implications. "So this means picking the evil route isn’t just a one-time deal… I’ll have to stay committed. I can work with that."

 

"Alright, system, is there a map for my target area?"

 

[Mission Map Unlocked!]

 

[You may now locate the designated mission area using your interface.]

 

A virtual map of Royal Woods materialized before Lincoln’s eyes, pinpointing the gang’s hideout on the outskirts of town. A grin crept onto his lips as he studied the layout.

 

"Time to get started."

 

-After a short while-

 

Lincoln crouched behind a stack of discarded crates, his sharp eyes scanning the decrepit building before him. From his vantage point, he could see a few gang members loitering near the entrance, smoking and chatting idly. He took a deep breath, his mind racing through possible ways to infiltrate the place without drawing suspicion.

 

"Alright, gathering evidence won’t do me much good right now. What I really need is to steal all the information and the drugs they have stashed inside that base. That’ll be my ticket to making real progress," Lincoln muttered under his breath, his gaze locked onto the entrance.

 

To blend in, he had changed into ragged, oversized clothes, making himself look like just another homeless kid. The entire area was already crawling with vagrants, and unfinished buildings dotted the surroundings, providing both obstacles and potential cover. "I never knew a place like this existed in Royal Woods... This isn't a cartoon anymore."

 

He focused on the gang's movements, watching how they interacted, where they looked, and which paths they took when entering and exiting the building. 'If I can find a pattern in their shifts or spot a moment when security is lax, I might be able to slip inside unnoticed.'

 

Lincoln’s thoughts were interrupted when a voice called out.

 

"Hey, kid! Get lost. This isn’t a playground," snapped a teenage girl with long brown hair and weary eyes. Her sluggish movements and dazed expression told Lincoln she was high on something.

 

He immediately recognized her. 'So she’s part of this gang, huh? That makes things interesting.'

 

She took a step closer, eyeing him suspiciously. "You don’t want to be hanging around here. People in this place... they’re not nice. You’re better off finding somewhere else to be before someone notices you."

 

Lincoln played along, feigning nervousness as he scratched the back of his head. "Oh! Uh, sorry. I didn’t know. Thanks for the warning! I’ll get out of here now."

 

As he turned to leave, she squinted at him, her expression shifting into one of vague recognition.

 

"Wait a second..." Her brows furrowed as she stared at him more intently. "Have I seen you before?"

 

Lincoln tensed slightly but kept his face neutral. He knew exactly why she was suspicious. 'Good thing I’m wearing this wig—without it, my white hair would’ve given me away instantly.'

 

He quickly shook his head. "I don’t think so. I don’t really come around here."

 

She still looked doubtful, but after a moment, she exhaled and rubbed her temple. "Maybe I’m just imagining things... I swear I’ve seen your face somewhere before. Whatever, just get moving before someone else sees you."

 

Lincoln nodded, forcing himself to appear calm as he walked away. Once he was far enough, he ducked behind another building, letting out a slow exhale. That had been close. Too close.

 

But even as he calmed himself, a grin spread across his face. He had gained something valuable from the encounter—knowledge. The girl had confirmed something important: the gang members weren’t on high alert, and their interactions weren’t particularly organized.

 

'If she was paying more attention, she might’ve actually recognized me. That means the security here isn’t as tight as I thought. If their guards are this sloppy, then there has to be a way to sneak inside unnoticed.'

 

His eyes darted across the buildings, analyzing every corner, every alley, every possible entry point. Then, it hit him—a perfect plan.

 

Lincoln's sharp eyes caught sight of a narrow drainage tunnel beneath the gang’s hideout. It was old, rusted, and nearly hidden beneath a pile of debris—clearly abandoned and long forgotten. But it connected directly to the lower part of the building, making it the perfect entry point.

 

A smirk formed on his lips. 'That’s my way in.'

 

By sneaking through the tunnel, he could bypass the main entrance entirely. No guards, no questions. He just had to make sure he didn't make too much noise and secure an escape route beforehand. If he could get inside without raising alarms, he could locate the stash, steal everything valuable, and slip out before anyone even knew he was there.

 

Lincoln clenched his fists, excitement coursing through him. "Time to put this plan into motion."

 

After struggling and carefully maneuvering through the shadows, Lincoln finally found his way inside. The drainage tunnel had been a tight fit, damp and foul-smelling, but it had led him exactly where he needed to be—inside the gang’s hideout. His entire body ached from the effort, his clothes were stained with grime, and every breath he took carried the stench of stagnant water. But none of that mattered. He was in.

 

However, as soon as he emerged from the tunnel, he realized the place wasn’t as empty as he had hoped. The room he had crawled into was packed with gang members, all engaged in loud conversations, some counting stacks of cash while others handled shipments of drugs. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and the dim light of a flickering bulb cast eerie shadows across the room. Lincoln barely had time to react before pressing himself into the darkest corner, holding his breath, willing himself to become invisible.

 

Minutes passed like hours, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he observed the gang members. They were relaxed, laughing, joking, completely unaware of the intruder in their midst. One man packed a duffel bag full of cash, another was inspecting a small crate filled with bagged substances Lincoln didn’t need to guess the nature of. He kept still, his muscles tense, waiting for the perfect moment to move.

 

Then, fortune finally swung in his favor. One by one, the gang members finished their tasks and moved out of the room, some heading upstairs while others disappeared through different hallways. Lincoln let out a silent breath of relief as the last of them walked away, leaving only the faint hum of a distant conversation in another room. Now was his chance.

 

Carefully, he crept through the now-deserted space, his eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for anything that might be useful. He moved cautiously, every step light and calculated. The wooden floor creaked softly under his weight, making his pulse quicken. Every so often, he paused, listening intently for any approaching footsteps. The tension was suffocating; even the smallest noise felt deafening in the silent room.

 

As he scanned the area, his gaze landed on a desk covered in scattered papers, folders, and ledgers. His pulse quickened. Jackpot. This was exactly what he needed—records of deals, supplier lists, and contact information. Everything that could help him understand the gang’s operations, and maybe even use it to his advantage.

 

He moved swiftly, skimming through the documents, identifying the most valuable ones. Some listed transactions, others contained contact names with numbers scribbled in shorthand. He stuffed as many as he could into his bag, careful not to disturb the arrangement too much. The less obvious his theft, the longer it would take for them to realize they had been compromised.

 

Just as he was about to grab another folder, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. Lincoln froze, his breath catching in his throat. Without hesitation, he darted behind a large metal cabinet, pressing himself against the cold steel. The footsteps grew louder, then slowed. He could hear someone shuffling around, mumbling to themselves. Every muscle in his body tensed, praying they wouldn’t check the desk.

 

Seconds felt like an eternity, but eventually, the person turned and walked away, their footsteps fading into the distance. Lincoln exhaled slowly, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He had to move faster.

 

He grabbed the last of the documents and turned to leave when something else caught his eye. Across the room, on a small table pushed against the wall, sat a handgun beside a stack of bills. His fingers twitched slightly as he considered his next move. He had never been a fan of guns, but this was a different situation. He was infiltrating a gang’s hideout, surrounded by criminals who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in him if he were caught. The logical choice was clear.

 

Lincoln stepped forward, cautiously picking up the weapon. It was heavier than he expected, the cold metal unfamiliar in his grip. He examined it quickly—a semi-automatic pistol, likely loaded. His grip tightened around it as he tucked it into his waistband, ensuring it was secure. A weapon might make all the difference if things went south.

 

With his bag filled with stolen documents and a newly acquired weapon at his side, Lincoln knew it was time to leave. But every sound made him hesitate. Footsteps echoed now and then, forcing him to hide behind furniture, crates, and whatever cover he could find. His breathing remained steady, but his heart pounded every time a shadow loomed too close.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw his opening. The hallway was empty. He took a deep breath, tightening the straps of his bag before moving carefully toward the exit. He had done it. Now, all that was left was to make it out undetected.

 

Lincoln took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to retrace his steps back through the drainage tunnel. His heart still pounded in his chest from the close calls he had barely escaped inside, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had made it this far—he just needed to get out unseen.

 

Keeping his movements precise and silent, he crept toward the tunnel entrance, careful not to disturb any loose debris on the ground. The dim light filtering through cracks in the old building barely illuminated his path, but he could still make out the familiar sight of the tunnel opening just ahead.

 

Relief flickered in his chest—until he got closer.

 

His stomach dropped.

 

The tunnel was blocked.

 

A heavy, rusted metal grate now covered the entrance, its thick iron bars locked securely in place. Lincoln’s fingers instinctively curled into fists as he stared at it in disbelief. 'No. No, no, no.' That hadn’t been there before. The gang must have sealed it off while he was inside.

 

His only planned escape route was gone.

 

Lincoln clenched his teeth, his pulse quickening. His first instinct was to test the grate, gripping the metal bars and pulling with all his strength. It didn’t budge. He pressed his hands against the frame, searching for any weakness—a loose screw, a rusted hinge, something he could exploit—but it was no use. They had done a thorough job.

 

He was trapped.

 

A wave of frustration threatened to bubble over, but he swallowed it down. 'Panicking won’t help. Think. Adapt.' He forced himself to breathe, to push the rising anxiety away. He had gotten out of tight spots before. He just needed to find another way.

 

Slowly, he backed away from the sealed tunnel, his mind racing. If the tunnel was no longer an option, he needed to find a different exit—and fast. The longer he stayed in the hideout, the higher the risk of being caught.

 

His eyes darted around, scanning for possible routes. The only remaining option was the main building—going back the way he came. It was risky, but there was no other choice.

 

Keeping low, he retraced his steps carefully, slipping past old crates and stacks of debris as he made his way back into the hideout. His every movement was deliberate, his ears straining for any sign of approaching footsteps. The halls were eerily silent, the dim lighting casting long shadows against the walls.

 

Gritting his teeth, Lincoln pushed onward, determined to find another way out before it was too late.

 

His eyes darted around the dimly lit hideout, searching for an alternative. The only option left was the front door. It was risky, but he had no choice. He crept toward it, staying close to the walls, careful to avoid making noise. Every second felt like an eternity as he inched closer to freedom.

 

Lincoln hesitated for only a moment before gripping the door handle. His fingers tightened around the cold metal as he took a slow breath. He couldn’t afford to rush—if someone was on the other side, bolting out without checking would be a death sentence.

 

Carefully, he twisted the knob, pulling the door open just a crack. He peeked through the small gap, scanning the hallway beyond. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls, and from what he could tell, there was no immediate movement. No voices. No sign of anyone lurking.

 

'Good.'

 

He pushed the door open just enough to slip through, making sure it didn’t creak. He stepped into the hallway, heart pounding, and immediately flattened himself against the nearest wall. He didn’t know the layout of the building. Every turn, every hallway, every door was an unknown risk. But standing here wasn’t an option—he had to move.

 

'Find a way out.'

 

Lincoln crept forward, keeping his steps light as he navigated the unfamiliar space. He had no choice but to take whatever path presented itself. Left or right? No time to debate. He took the left. The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit by old flickering lights. He passed doors, some slightly ajar, others firmly shut, but he didn’t dare stop to investigate. Every second counted.

 

Turning another corner, he spotted a stairwell. His heart leaped—stairs meant a way down, and down meant closer to the exit. He could almost taste the freedom waiting for him outside. He hurried toward the stairs, quick but careful, his eyes darting around for any movement.

 

Then, just as he reached the top step, a sudden voice cut through the silence.

 

“Hey! What the hell?!”

 

Lincoln’s breath hitched as he spun around, his body tensing.

 

Standing at the far end of the hallway was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a rough, unkempt look. His eyes, sharp and alert, locked onto Lincoln immediately. Then they flicked toward the bag slung over his shoulder.

 

It didn’t take him long to put two and two together.

 

The boy’s expression darkened, rage flashing across his face. “You little shit! What are you doing here?!”

 

Lincoln felt a jolt of pure adrenaline surge through him.

 

'Run!'

 

Lincoln barely had time to think—his body reacted before his mind could fully register the danger. The moment the teenager's furious shout rang through the hallway, he pivoted on his heel and bolted.

 

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he sprinted back down the corridor, his footsteps pounding against the wooden floor. Behind him, the teenager let out a furious curse before giving chase, his heavier steps echoing through the narrow space.

 

Lincoln turned a sharp corner, nearly slamming into a stack of old crates. He didn’t know the layout of the building, but that didn’t matter—'he just needed to go down'. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for stairs or an exit, anything that could get him closer to the ground floor.

 

Then, up ahead, he spotted a narrow staircase leading down.

 

He threw himself toward it, gripping the railing tightly as he 'jumped down two steps at a time'. His legs burned with the impact, but he kept moving. Behind him, he could hear the teenager still following, getting closer.

 

Lincoln hit the bottom of the stairs and burst into a dimly lit hallway. His eyes scanned the area frantically, looking for a way out. 'A door? A back exit? A window—'

 

There!

 

At the far end of the hallway, a 'small window' sat slightly open, the cool outside air leaking in. It wasn’t high, but it was just narrow enough that squeezing through wouldn’t be easy—especially with someone chasing him.

 

Lincoln didn’t hesitate. He sprinted toward it, reaching out and 'yanking the window open wider'.

 

Just as he started climbing through, he heard 'heavy footsteps pounding down the stairs'.

 

“Got you now, you little—!” the teenager roared.

 

Lincoln didn’t wait to hear the rest. He threw himself through the window, twisting his body to fit.

 

The moment he was halfway through, his stomach dropped—he hadn’t checked 'what was on the other side'.

 

Before he could react, 'gravity took hold'.

 

Lincoln tumbled out of the window, 'plummeting downward'. His arms flailed, trying to grab onto something—anything—but all he met was open air.

 

Then—'CRASH!'

 

He landed hard on something metallic, his entire body jolting with impact. For a second, everything spun, pain radiating from his back and shoulders.

 

The sour 'stench' hit him before his brain caught up.

 

He had fallen 'straight into a dumpster'.

 

“Ugh—'gross',” Lincoln groaned, shaking off the shock as he scrambled to his feet. The dumpster creaked under his weight, bags of garbage shifting around him.

 

But there was no time to complain.

 

Above him, he heard the teenager cursing. Lincoln didn’t look up—he 'launched himself over the edge', landing on the pavement with a grunt. His legs burned, but he forced them to move.

 

'Run. Just run!'

 

The alley was tight, filled with crates, trash bins, and discarded debris, but Lincoln 'moved like lightning'. His small frame let him slip through tight gaps, his feet barely touching the ground as he 'vaulted' over a stack of broken pallets.

 

“Get back here, you little—!” the gang member shouted from the window above.

 

Lincoln didn’t listen. He tore down the alleyway, weaving through the obstacles like a shadow. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn’t slow down.

 

He needed to get 'far away' before his pursuer caught up.

 

As he burst into the open street, the market square came into view. It was 'packed' with people, stalls, and vendors—'perfect' for losing someone in a chase.

 

Lincoln 'dove' into the crowd, disappearing among the sea of bodies.

 

But behind him, the gang member was still coming. And he 'wasn’t giving up'.

 

He 'dived' into the crowd, ducking under stands, leaping over overturned baskets, using every obstacle to his advantage.

 

“MOVE!” someone yelled as Lincoln shoved past, barely avoiding a cart loaded with crates. He used his small frame to slip between gaps that were too tight for the older, bulkier teenager.

 

Still, the gang member 'refused' to give up.

 

“Get back here, you little—!” the boy roared, shoving through vendors and sending produce flying.

 

Lincoln 'vaulted' over a stall, landing in a roll before kicking off again into a sprint. He could see the edge of the market now—beyond it, a dirt path leading into the forest.

 

'That’s my way out.'

 

He pushed his body harder, ignoring the ache in his muscles. He could hear the teenager still charging after him, getting angrier with every obstacle Lincoln forced him through.

 

Lincoln’s breath came in short bursts, but he 'didn’t stop'.

 

The moment he hit the dirt path, he didn’t slow—he 'sped up'. Trees loomed ahead, their thick cover promising safety if he could just lose his pursuer.

 

As he entered the forest, he heard the gang member let out a furious shout.

 

“Damn it! You’re not getting away that easy!”

 

But Lincoln wasn’t about to let himself get caught.

 

Lincoln pushed through the underbrush, branches scraping against his skin. He ran deeper into the woods, trying to lose his pursuer in the thick foliage. For a moment, it seemed like he might have managed it—until he heard the pounding footsteps again, growing closer.

 

Lincoln ducked under low-hanging branches, his breath ragged as he tried to pick up speed. He could hear the teenager crashing through behind him, cursing under his breath. Lincoln’s legs burned with exhaustion, but he refused to stop. He cut through a thicket of bushes, emerging onto a narrow, winding dirt path that twisted through the dense forest.

 

His lungs screamed for air, his body aching from the relentless chase. He could hear the gang member’s breathing, heavy and labored, just a few feet behind him. Lincoln pushed harder, his vision blurring slightly as he sprinted forward.

 

The teenager behind him growled in frustration. "You’re really starting to piss me off, kid!"

 

Lincoln spotted a fallen tree ahead and vaulted over it, his small frame giving him an advantage in slipping through tighter gaps in the forest. He zigzagged between the trees, forcing the larger teenager to slow down and struggle through the thick growth.

 

Then, just as he thought he had gained some ground, he heard it—the sound of something clicking.

 

A gun being readied.

 

“You left me no choice, kid,” the gang member snarled, his voice laced with frustration and exhaustion.

 

Lincoln skidded to a stop, chest rising and falling rapidly. He turned slightly, catching a glimpse of the boy standing just a few feet away, gun raised, finger poised on the trigger.

 

The teen’s expression was filled with anger, but now there was something else—suspicion. He wasn’t just chasing Lincoln out of spite. He wanted answers.

 

“Who sent you?” the teenager demanded, his voice sharp and accusing. “Are you working for someone? A rival gang?”

 

Lincoln’s breath hitched, his mind scrambling for an answer. He hadn’t expected this. The teenager didn’t just see him as some random thief—he thought Lincoln was a plant, a spy.

 

“I—I wasn’t sent by anyone,” Lincoln managed, forcing his voice to stay even despite the panic clawing at his chest. “I swear, I just—”

 

“Bullshit!” the teenager cut him off, stepping closer. His hands were steady, his gaze unwavering. “Nobody just walks into our base by accident! You’re lying, kid. So tell me right now—who sent you?!”

 

Lincoln hesitated. Every part of his body screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t. One wrong move and that trigger would be pulled.

 

The teen’s grip on the gun tightened. "This is your last chance, kid. Talk—now."

 

Then, from somewhere in the distance, Lincoln heard movement—fast and approaching.

 

The gunshot rang through the forest like a crack of thunder, splitting the tense air. Lincoln barely had time to react—his body moved on instinct, diving to the side just as the bullet whizzed past him, missing by mere inches. The impact of his landing sent pain shooting up his arms, but he didn’t have time to care.

 

The teenager cursed loudly, his frustration evident. "Damn it! Stay still!"

 

Lincoln barely had time to scramble to his feet before he saw the boy adjusting his aim, his eyes narrowing, finger tightening around the trigger. This time, there would be no miss. Lincoln could see it in his expression—this guy was done playing games. He was going to end this.

 

But before the teenager could pull the trigger, another gunshot rang out.

 

Lincoln flinched, expecting pain, but it never came. Instead, he heard a strangled cry from the gang member. His body jerked violently as the force of the bullet knocked him backward. He stumbled, his grip on the gun faltering as his knees buckled beneath him, sending him crashing onto the forest floor.

 

Lincoln’s wide eyes snapped toward the source of the shot.

 

The girl stood at the edge of the clearing, her arm outstretched, smoke rising from the barrel of her pistol. Her breathing was heavy, but her expression was steady, unwavering.

 

Lincoln’s stomach twisted the moment he got a clear look at her face. It was her.

 

The teenager let out a strangled groan, his breath ragged as he clutched his shoulder, where blood seeped steadily through his clothes. His fingers pressed against the wound, his entire body trembling with a mix of agony and rage. His face twisted, eyes burning with disbelief as he glared up at her.

 

"What the 'hell'—you 'shot' me?!" His voice was raw, laced with both pain and fury, his chest rising and falling in heavy gasps.

 

She didn’t so much as flinch. Her stance remained firm, her grip on the gun unwavering. There was no hesitation in her eyes, no sign of regret. Just cold certainty.

 

"You gave me no choice," she said, her voice calm but edged with finality.

 

Lincoln remained motionless, his heart hammering against his ribs as he processed everything. He had been 'seconds' away from dying. The teen in front of him had been ready to pull the trigger, and if it weren’t for her, he’d already be bleeding out on the forest floor.

 

Now, the very person who had unknowingly saved his life didn’t even recognize him.

 

The wounded gang member gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he tried to push himself upright. His breath hitched as pain tore through his side, his body jerking slightly. His hands curled into fists, his frustration bubbling over.

 

Before he could move any further, the girl took a sharp step forward, her boot crunching against the dirt. The gun didn’t waver, her finger still poised over the trigger.

 

"Don’t move," she warned, her voice dropping lower. "Unless you 'want' another shot."

 

Something in her tone made it clear—she wasn’t bluffing.

 

Lincoln swallowed hard, forcing himself to steady his breathing. He had to be careful. If she got a good enough look at him, if she pieced things together, everything could change in an instant.

 

He took a slow, measured step backward, his gaze never leaving hers.

 

She still hadn’t turned her full attention to him, keeping her gaze trained on the injured gang member.

 

Good.

 

He needed to get out of here.

 

But just as he took another step, the girl’s eyes finally flicked toward him.

 

Her expression didn’t shift at first—her focus darting over him as if confirming he wasn’t a threat. But then, something changed. Her brows pulled together slightly. Her gaze lingered on his face for a second too long.

 

And then her breath hitched.

 

Her eyes widened in recognition, and before Lincoln could react, she spoke.

 

"Lincoln…?!"