Sins in Twisters

by Blonkess

When Lincoln is destined to never have success like his family, after surviving the Royal Woods' Tornado, his future takes him on the path of becoming a renowned storm chaser. But as years pass since that day, his family tries to hold together after freak disasters put a halt to the sisters' lives when Lisa discovers a past family secret that tells Lincoln's time is running out.

10. Lightning Loud

Sins in Twisters

Chapter 10: Lightning Loud

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Warning: This chapter contains weather technobabble. If you are confused about something, Google is your best friend.

(This has been the biggest chapter I have ever written in the nearly ten years I've been on this site.)

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March 15th, 2025

For some, the beginning of spring marked the start of the year's official storm season. April Showers bring May flowers.

Though there's a third line to that saying most might not know, May Flowers signals June Disasters.

For others, the season never ends, no matter the time of year. January, November, and the end of December; if there were a possible tornado threat, those dedicated to their passion would travel from coast to coast, border to border, for the chance to even witness an event considered rare worldwide.

For those who lived in Central Oklahoma, tornadoes were as common an occurrence for their way of life as Florida was to hurricanes. Generations of families that lived on these plains had come to realize where they stood on the map, and at any moment, all they had built in their life could be obliterated in seconds. They knew to watch for the signs of the sky changing and that when the warnings are issued and the sirens start screaming, it means to get out of the area or hunker down, for God has chosen this path to be ravaged, and those within shall feel its power.

The past 27 years have proven that these grounds live up to their name as the capital of Tornado Alley. With a town and a year as their names, a storm carves its way into history.

It was these very grounds that, for the better part of five years, Lincoln Loud called home. A place rich in history that year after year, from Canada to the Texas Gulf coast clear across to Virginia and down to Florida that he saw as the place he would build his name for history to remember him. Even now, his name is widely known across the community as one of the most dedicated and luckiest chasers out there. A name that, while it brought about memories that left a bad taste in his mouth, was one that the last few years had proven to be correct in every meaning.

Rather it is close calls with something a little too substantial for his taste when on a dirt road swallowing the wheels or parked on a hill somewhere in the mountains witnessing the storm of a lifetime that many didn't see as being worth its value in gas money, his success had cemented himself among the best out there with a small circle of others.

And he couldn't be more proud of it. A decade ago, he had no idea what his future would be like. So much beating around in his mind that told him it was destiny to stay like that.

A decade later, he had built his own destiny. Was it the one he and possibly many others thought about? Not at all. Some thought he would have embraced college life by now, maybe following an old dream to make comics. Some said maybe even a little time in the military to toughen up his body and mind and then with the occasional odd or out-of-this-world job.

For the very last part, they weren't far off at all. And he saw why so many thousands from even across the globe would come here every spring and risk their life (and sometimes bank accounts) to just get a glimpse of mother nature's show. It was literally watching living titans walk across the very earth humanity did. The very air you breathe was but a particle of the atmosphere that could condense into a cloud, rise miles into the sky and drop down a small column of rotation strong enough to tear apart the land.

It was an adrenaline rush like no other. Each storm acts the same as one before or to be but never displays the same beauty and art that could never be truly replicated on paper.

These two ingredients were part of the grand recipe that fueled Lincoln's drive to keep going.

In just three days' time, the pedal will meet the floor, storms will rise, hail will fall, and one of the ultimate forces on the planet will connect the Earth to the sky in a beautiful but destructive union.

And this year, he was going bigger than ever- ["Shrieker, the tornado is one mile from the road and closing. You have, at best, a minute to get there."] A voice called out the radio's speaker.

"We're in position now, bracing for impact!" Ronnie Anne Santiago half-shouted in her headset as her hand flicked to the last set of levers below the console. The sound of whirling hydraulics around the vehicle had her look out her window as four red arms reached out from the truck.

Once they reached as far as the pistons would go, Ronnie yanked down a smaller red lever as a sharp hiss raced through the lines to the outriggers. In just three seconds, three-inch wide, three-foot-long spikes pierced the Oklahoma dirt like harpoons to a great whale. The truck now resembled more of a giant mound of dark gray metal than a vehicle. Locked to the Earth and ready to take the beating of rain, wind and the wrath of God.

Just as the spikes had buried themselves, Ronnie looked up to see the white form of their target rapidly approaching the road. "Tornado is 300 yards out and closing, Lincoln!" She shouted over her shoulder towards the back.

Already set with his camera locked in its mount and the hatch open, Lincoln sat in the seat with a calm complex. Casually grabbing the sides by the switches controlling his turret, he slowly flicked one to the right to move the rig enough to keep the camera focused.

"I see it! Camera rolling." He shouted back.

In reality, he would be bracing himself to get a face full of wind and rain. Rocks pinging off the armor, a deafening roar, and feel his adrenaline spiking to its peak again. But right now, he had none of that. Even his camera wasn't turned on to record. He didn't have his seat harness strapped in or his safety goggles and helmet equipped.

But in this reality, he didn't have to worry.

["Tornado's crossing the road now."] He heard the radio speak again as his turret slowly spun to face forward ahead of them. And in seconds, the tornado crossed right in front of them.

"Impact!" Lincoln yelled with a smile, "We are in the tornado!" He said, failing almost to suppress a laugh as he watched a silver Toyota Forerunner drive past them.

Honking its horn twice as it bounced across one side of the road and over the other in a cloud of dust that barely kicked up enough rocks to touch the tank.

"And… we're clear!" He said, shifting out of his seat. Sliding out and crouching to avoid hitting his head on the frame and roof of the cab as he headed toward the back. Pulling back a giant lock and handle, he pushed the rear door open enough to let it rest on the side.

Standing to full height, he took a moment to feel the cool air of the land around them. Looking across the sky, there were some clouds but not a single storm in sight. Little puff balls populated the area, but the sun gave enough warmth that it felt like a perfect day to be outdoors.

And it was a perfect day for practice.

Gripping on a side rail, he carefully stepped off the back plate and landed with shoes on dirt. Coming around to the passenger side, the Toyota looped around on the other side and headed back towards them. Kicking up a bit of a bigger dust cloud as it came opposite to the tank and stopped with its passenger window opening right in front of him.

Resting his arm out as he leaned back, a 52-year-old man with a steel-colored twill outback hat looked up to the duo, "So, how'd that go?" He asked, chewing on a piece of straw.

"34 seconds," Ronnie answered, coming around from the backside holding a stopwatch.

The man nodded in approval, "Think hydraulics is too slow?" He asked Lincoln.

Lincoln brought a hand to his chin and looked down in thought, "Maybe. But we're already putting god knows how much psi into the spikes. If we had room for another compressor, then maybe we could have one where we could deploy the shields and arms at the same time and drop the spikes faster. The problem is even trying to find space for that thing."

"Huh." He looked forward off into the distance in thought before looking back, "So what's for grub tonight?"

Lincoln shrugged, "I don't know. Didn't really have anything on my mind or gut today. Ronnie?"

"I go for anything, really." She leaned against the truck and spun the watch, "Though I don't think Clyde would be happy about us getting food from Pueblo's again."

The man and driver both laughed at the mention of a fond memory. "Yeah… maybe Panaderia?"

Lincoln thought about it for a moment. Glancing over to Ronnie to get her two cents that was earned with a shrug that she really didn't care about the choice. "I guess we can go with that. We'll pick it up if you can call head and get the order in."

The man nodded, picking the straw out of his mouth and flicking it away, "Whelp. See ya back at base in an hour or two." Before any more words could be traded, the Forerunner lurked forward and drove off. Kicking up a dust trail as it traveled someways before cresting a hill and disappearing from view.

Lincoln stood there looking off in the direction his teammate had taken his car, shaking his head, "I really hope they don't go crazy with the order again. I really don't wanna pay four hundred dollars for Mexican food again."

"You're the one that offered to pay last time," Ronnie stated as she walked back along the driverside to get back in and free them.

Sighing at that unfortunate memory, as the sound of the hydraulics pressurizing again to get the spikes up, Lincoln turned and hopped back into the cab, pulling the door behind him as it slammed shut against the frame.

He went about standing back up in his turret and unlatching his camera from its mount. Even though this whole day was about practicing deployment time, with the changes coming this year, he knew he'd be jumping back and forth between the front and camera seats with navigating and filming. Sure, he could still operate the remote control on the dashboard, but he wanted to see what the camera would capture.

It just doesn't give the same feeling, watching an event through a screen when you can look just above the very lens that captured it and see it with your own eyes.

Pulling the nearly sixty-pound unit from the turret, he held it on his shoulder for a moment as he swung it around to open its storage container. Slowly moving it around to let it sit within the thick padded foam with some velcro straps to keep it in place. Locking the lid shut he spun the turret back around to face forward, folded the seat back up to its compartment, and climbed between the seats over the glove box to plop himself into the passenger seat. Feeling the cushion squeak and send up a puff of dust as he reaches over to buckle up.

Though something felt wrong, he could feel it.

Looking down to make sure his buckle went in the lock, Lincoln caught the faint moment of Ronnie pulling her hand away from the controls, having just finished retracting the shields and spikes, and almost too casually placed her hand on the wheel but made no sign of getting their trip underway.

"Ronnie?" He asked, unsure of what she was waiting for.

"Hmm?" She looked at him from the corner of her eye. And with a bit of a tiny twitch of the edge of her lips curling upward, he knew what she was planning and wanted to do.

"No." He turned away to look out his window. He did not want to be sucked into her trance.

"Why not?" She said teasingly, flexing her fingers on the steering wheel, "No one's around for miles. Not like they are going to come across what we did anytime soon. And as Rex said, we'd gotta wait maybe two hours before we can get the food."

"They'll know exactly who owns the only tank around this area and what we did in their field. I'd rather not risk being caught doing that again."

"Lincoln?"

He turned towards her, but before he could hear out whatever she had to say or even for him to speak, he felt her hand fly up and grab a fist full of his shirt—yanking him down and over the glovebox towards her as she captured his lips in hers.

It lasted forever but ended too soon for his liking. Feeling the kind of warmth that was shared between hundreds of millions of others across the world and as far back as history could remember. Only for them, like so many, it was their own kind of warmth that only the two of them knew and felt. When she pulled away, leaving Lincoln still leaning there trying to reboot his brain, Ronnie shifted the truck into drive. Feeling the vehicle move from the lack of a parking brake, Lincoln looked up to see Ronnie pressed up against her seat with a devilish grin on her face.

He sighed, unable to prevent a smile from forming as he buckled himself into his seat. Tightening the belt was the answer Ronnie needed before she focused on the road before them and applied pressure on the gas. Holding onto the handlebar, Lincoln braced himself. At first, it looked more like Ronnie was going a little bit fast, trying to get down the road. The speed the tank was going was already kicking up a cloud of dust as it went a couple of yards down the road.

And then Ronnie jerked the wheel to the left, sending Storm Shrieker straight into the field.

Now given how early in March it was, with the cold still lingering at times, the fields around the area were as flat as you could get without flattening it yourself. It'd be a few weeks before any farmer was out tilling the land to prepare to plant this year's crop, but until then, it offered anyone crazy enough a wide-open place to do fun and crazy things.

And the feeling of nine tons of metal shifting, ten tires tearing into the dry topsoil, and the power of the eight hundred horses in the engine, all combined with the mind of the girl's inner extremist as the truck was sent sliding across the field like Lightning Mcqueen adjusting to get himself back on the track.

"HAHAHA! I'M NEVER GONNA GET TIRED OF THIS!" She cheered as, at times, when the truck was going past 50; she had the wheel turned hard over. Watching as the tank made a wide arch adding even more to the dust storm, Lincoln couldn't help but laugh as he held on.

If it were three things the past two years had taught him, it was he knew he had overbuilt this truck. This truck wasn't really meant for speed, yet somehow, Ronnie knew how to really push it to the max.

Acting fast and correcting their direction, she straightened them out as they drifted back onto the road. Heading down the way, the others had gone back to town. All the while, as Ronnie let out one last cheer to get it out of her system to focus on driving, Lincoln didn't stop looking at her with admiration and affection.

They had a long year ahead of them. The next four months, they would be busy with work or being on the road. Then after that, it's to the coast to see what comes up in November. But by the end of it, Lincoln felt it in his heart that by the end of this year, they would be more ready together than ever.

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Some miles away sat the town of El Reno, Oklahoma.

Named after Fort Reno back in the 1880s, just a half-hour drive from Oklahoma City itself, surrounded by endless fields with a couple of highways crisscrossing through to take people further west, north to Kansas or south to Texas, it was a decent-sized town that one would see an as lovely place to settle down with plenty of entertainment and restaurants to give someone variety while still being close enough to the city for anything that was there.

For others, like the SkyKnights, it was a place whose name has become ingrained in the history books for the monsters that have torn apart the land from years prior. A place where their target could form anywhere around them, and they could hunt it down with plenty of options to get there. Sometimes just having to sit on the back porch and wait for it to get close enough before rolling out.

Though for this time of year, the atmosphere wasn't ripe just yet to go chasing from their backyard. They would have to wait a bit later in the season before their usual hunting grounds became populated with storms that could bear fruit. No, their focus was a bit further southeast, like many other chasers that were either well-versed in the region or felt it far too risky to travel. To the Knights, the region known as Dixie Alley was just as much of a battlefield as was traditional Tornado Alley, only it was harder to see your enemy at times with so many hills and trees when flying down twisting roads.

It was the kind of place at this time of year that Clyde knew was going to keep them busy for the next couple of weeks.

Looking at the reports by the NWS and NSSL for the next ten days, the areas around eastern Texas and western to central Louisiana up into southeast Arkansas were currently the area that was making everyone pay attention. An area of high pressure was forecasted to continue moving westward over the Caribbean and was already being a rain fuel nuisance over Puerto Rico and flinging warm moist tropical air down and around the northern regions of Columbia and Venezuela. The models showed it moving northward, throwing moisture closer to the States.

South Texas was going to get hot real soon. He wouldn't doubt people down there were gonna enjoy temperatures getting back in the mid-60s by the middle of the week. Which, in this time of year, would probably feel fantastic. If it wasn't for the jetstream bringing down a low-pressure system that was over Colorado, for many, it would look like spring came early.

Just looking up to a wall-mounted display said the temperature outside was only a modest 45 at best in the middle of the day. With it is expected to get down near above-freezing tonight. It was a dry cold, though. Everyone was happy that whenever the wind blew, and it didn't feel like tiny droplets of ice were cutting through your clothes.

He might not have been a full-on meteorologist like Rex or even have the same level as Shay or Lincoln for that matter, but four years had taught him enough that the basics were there. Cold, dry air is pushed south to meet warm moisture coming from the Gulf. A trough was expected to form over Texas and interact with high pressure. Pulling up more moisture, once that low pressure got close enough to all that unstable air, there was bound to be storms firing up. Though just how severe it would get, he and anyone else for that matter didn't know. Forecasts can be made days in advance, but to say that on Friday the 21st, there was going to be a supercell dropping a twister was a kind of overconfidence that could be overestimated or underestimated as the days got closer.

For now, they had time to relax and prepare.

Pushing his chair away, McBride stood up and leaned back. Raising his arms high into the air with a switch snap to his left, felt several pops in his back.

"Gosh, that feels better…" He said with a smile as he straightened up his little area. Pulling a light green coat off the chair and throwing it on, he looked around their makeshift weather laboratory.

'Laboratory' wasn't exactly what you'd think a team like theirs would have. Compared to what he remembered seeing in Lincoln's sister's room long ago, it looked more like half a game developer studio and half of an actual office with one wall belonging to a mechanic shop. It mainly took up half the basement under the house, with the other half being a small rec room and storage closet. From what it looked like before they spent a chunk of summer 2022 fixing up the place, it used to be an old cellar. Where old homemade shelves used to keep bits and pieces of farm equipment, firewood, or some miscellaneous stuff they found buried was now home to most of their computer and camera equipment. Old rock walls are covered up with clean white brick. A data tower in the back corner next to a rack of spare parts they had accumulated that was a bit too sensitive to keep in the hanger occupied the wall next to the door that opened up to the staircase leading out of the cellar doors themselves.

It wasn't extravagant or flashy, as one would think. Nor just as messy with stacks of books, filing cabinets, and papers everywhere. It was simple in design and functional to its purpose. And as far as anyone was concerned, fit just for them.

Heading to the door, he flicked the switch off, stepped out into the rather small hallway they made to enclose the cellar properly, and ran along the foundation to the rec room.

Suppose one could even call it a rec room. At best, there was a TV, an air hockey table, a couch to fit three, and several shelves and frames on the wall. Before taking one step up the stairs, Clyde paused to look over what was there.

Pictures of some of their best tornadoes, a few with them posing. Magazines are showing off either their logo or a few of them with the trucks. Three of them were vehicle articles from 2024, all showing off the tank as 'Truck of the Month. Certificates of Accomplishments, rewards, and numerous letters addressed to the team. Some were even written in a bit of a sloppy manner, even some in colored pencil or crayon, and almost as fast as his eyes set upon them, Clyde felt a sense of joy and pride within him.

He remembered those days. Maybe in some context, someone would say two years wasn't that long ago, but to him, it felt like a decade had somehow crammed itself into that time. But seeing all those faces of kids, teens, and even adults alike all amazed and shocked at what they and what weather could do from as far as California all the way to New Hampshire. Either helping people become fascinated by nature or just being that bit more weather-savvy would go a long way. There was more to see, but Clyde had seen it many times before and had little doubt there wouldn't be many more in the future.

Pulling himself up the railing and jumping up two steps at a time to the top, flicking the lights off for the basement as he came up to the main floor. If there was a way to describe the house in relatable terms, the main floor was almost like Lincoln's old house from all the times he was inside it, scaled up to be able to accommodate 30 people comfortably at once. To the left, where there would be a wall, was a large dining room with a table fit for ten. To his right was a kitchen that, in layout, looked modern, but in style, was still dated to 2005 with some modern appliances despite the aging wood and glass cabinets needing to go. A small island sat in the very middle that was home to the God of the kitchen, Mr. Coffee Maker, and his companion, Mrs. Toaster Oven.

The counter wrapped almost all the way around the room before stopping at the doorway that divided the kitchen from a smaller 'dining' room that opened up directly into the living room. Aside from the room itself, it was an upgrade in style, with an oversized couch taking up the room with a massive 85-inch TV sitting over the fireplace. A stack of awaiting firewood sat to its left, while a bookshelf flanked it to the right to fill out the corner. It wasn't that loaded with reading material, but full of pictures from everything from last Christmas all the way back home in Royal Woods—even more memories with all the different places with smiling faces.

His attention was snapped to the front windows, a gray Toyota coming from the south and flying up the driveway at speed as the gravel kicked up a cloud of dust as it rocketed behind the wall and past the window above the firewood. He looked back to the front expecting the sound of a diesel engine to come racing up, but didn't hear or see anything as the dust began to settle. The sound of tires braking on the gravel just outside the kitchen told him that whoever had come had arrived.

Closing the basement door shut, he couldn't help but look into the dining room. The giant table was utterly covered with camera and recording equipment, tape decks, and monitors as a couple of casually dressed people were working on setting up the equipment. At first, in his youth, Clyde would have asked if they were preparing to investigate the place like a haunted house. But rational thinking told him that this was just a small pocket of a larger crew serving as the network's production team to film them this season.

And that fact still made his inner kid smile; he was going to be one TV! He's just doing what he's doing and not having to bother with some script or director or being on time for the set. If the team is rolling to the next spot, the cameras better be ready to follow.

Heading out the back door onto the deck, an almost equally messy backyard greeted him.

Dead ahead sat a buried Quonset hut with mounds of dirt and vegetation pushed halfway up its sides to where the top half was mainly exposed. A few grooves along the left side allowed space for embedded windows to allow some light in the rather dark building that survived as their maintenance and storage hanger. The place was probably the very first thing they fixed just after buying the place. It was where the Knights and Storm Shrieker were born and could arguably be the place where they had an idea was the place to make dreams become reality.

And parked just past the giant bay door was the next step in their growing team. It took them a lot of effort and capital earlier in the year to get it, but they finally had achieved in acquiring a radar truck. The now nearly 17-year-old DOW6 International radar unit was slatted for decommissioning by the end of the year until they got wind of it. It was going to be a game changer for them: live up the second storm information straight from the source instead of what they could link up with their laptops and phones. With the giant dish on the back, they could look directly inside a storm from top to bottom. See just how the storm was behaving, how much rain was falling, or how big the hail was. But most importantly, it gave them the ability to find tornadoes and see just how strong they were more accurately.

A unit like this for two decades was mainly used for collecting data on many weather events. Blizzards, hurricanes, and sometimes massive storm clusters flooded a whole region. For them, it meant they could chase safer. They had missed many chances to get inside tornadoes often because it was too dangerous to guestimate just how strong that mile-wide wedge in the day or the tiny 200-foot-wide cone was at night. It didn't stop them from pulling incredible numbers. But between it and how overbuilt Lincoln made his tank, he felt a lot more confident in what they could do.

Though it did bring a bit of negative feeling that made him a bit sad, he understood that with the size of the team, they could operate three vehicles at best. Even before, when they just ran KnightOne by itself and eventually it with Shrieker when it was done. They had already discussed the plan of how to manage the new radar by switching up part of the team and putting KnightOne into reserve or letting Patrick use it as his personal vehicle to be dedicated strictly for support. It needed an operator, driver, and navigator to make sure the DOW had everything functional. It was a bit strange when the others suggested it on who was where. Shay had volunteered to be the driver and or navigator with Rex, moving from KnightTwo to work the opposite post.

And then there was him. In the back of the cab, surrounded by computers. Even Lincoln said he felt his best friend would fit right at home in what was basically 'mission control' for the whole team. While Lincoln was still the 'captain of the ship', Clyde had become the 'grand navigator' directing the entire team from point A to point B. It was probably the second-biggest promotion anyone on the chase team could get. But that didn't calm his nerves when the reality of what it meant sitting in that chair meant.

If something went wrong, it was on him. He was the one who would have to keep an eye on not just the three of them but another four more vehicles this year. He had more say over where to go, but that didn't mean it could be the right choice. And it meant he was no longer in the tank with his friends. Since they came out here, he had been in the passenger seat so much guiding Lincoln, all the times they spent together while bored out of their minds or having the time of their lives. When Ronnie came into the picture, it felt even greater, like the three of them were on one of their crazy adventures back home.

He had been riding shotgun for the better part of six straight years now since Lincoln got his driver's permit. One was spent with the three of them together, getting some of their biggest chases to date. And now it was coming to an end. He wasn't worried much about the two of them; if anything, with what Lincoln had shared with it, it would probably work to his advantage later in the year. Ronnie was their best driver; Lincoln knew how to navigate and jump between his camera on the spot. With him on the radar, they put their trust and safety in his hands.

But thankfully, that was still weeks to months away.

The DOW, or what they had come to rebrand as 'Sky-Spy' as it can "spy up into the sky and tell them its secrets," was undergoing their degree of an overhaul to get it ready. Some of the equipment was as up-to-date as possible. They had both of the two different radar dishes that got mounted on the back, with it having the indented covered version on now. The truck needed a tune-up and needed some of their own kind of TLC. If this season didn't blow up so much, then anytime they were back home, they would focus on getting it ready. For now, the Knights of Two still sat together just off to the side of the driveway, ready to roll, and he would still be in the tank for most of another season until it was ready.

With the sound of doors banging shut, he saw Lincoln's car parked now beside KnightTwo; a man and woman stepped out. The first was someone who looked like he belonged down in Texas handling super aggressive cattle and would drive a large work truck like the one Shrieker was before.

Though if it was one thing the past three years had taught Clyde aside from all things weather, it was that Richard 'Rex' Dylans was the kind of man that would prefer to watch someone make a fool of themselves for the sake of entertainment till it ended or he got pissed off.

Three years since he met the man, he hadn't changed much.

He looked more like someone who would be in the construction industry but not precisely have the gut to compare. Usually more dressed up for when on the road, given the off-season was in full force, he elected to dress more relaxed with a white t-shirt, peppered blue jeans and gray socks being his flavor of choice. Without his hat, it was easier for anyone to see the slowly receding hairline that itself was slowly turning gray. Out of everyone on their crew, he was physically the oldest and strongest yet fit the role more of 'gentle giant till giant gets angry' where his leathered skin and soft blue eyes could make anyone consider him a drinking buddy or an enemy in hiding.

When they first met in 2023, it was just him and Lincoln in Shrieker, with Ben and Daniel in KnightOne as their support and forecasters. They met Rex and his group during a late April outbreak in Texas. They asked if they could tag along with his group, eventually forming a 30-vehicle-strong armada of chasers, and when Lincoln was trying to intercept, Rex was able to get them ahead of the storm in time for them to achieve their first back-to-back triple intercept on the same tornado that day.

He remembered Lincoln buying the best steak dinner he could for Rex and asked if he would like to have a high-paying job as part of the SkyKnights. Long story short, he agreed; they got a new truck and called it KnightTwo, and for two seasons, he helped to guide them into some of their craziest storms to date.

And then there was Shay Edison. A young woman who had been mentoring under Rex for college down in Norman. She was someone that Clyde honestly could see going a lot further than any of them once she got out of college. As long as Ronnie had been part of the team, Shay had been someone he felt looked at the big picture with a similar eye level that he felt he wasn't alone when some situations made him want to hurl his laptop out the window.

Out of everyone, she had to be the most down-to-earth person out of the nine of them. And truth be told, that helped calm his mind many times every time she looked his way, and he was gifted that beautiful smi-

'No! No! Bad Clyde! Remember what Doctor Lopez told you. It took you six years to get out of that war about Lori, don't go causing another one.'

Shaking his head clear of unneeded thoughts, he stepped off the porch and met the two midway between. Though glancing back down the driveway, he was a bit surprised that Lincoln and Ronnie hadn't returned. "What taking them?" He nodded towards the road.

"Finished up the practice after the fourth deployment. Then debated on what was for dinner." Rex answered as he chewed on a new piece of straw.

At the mention of food, Clyde did feel a little knot in his stomach twist at the prospect of what they would be eating. Takeout was a bit of common practice for them, often getting enough food that they could easily pack up in case they needed to get on the road the next day and not leave anything at home that could go rotten.

"What's on the menu?" He asked with a hand over his stomach to stop it from growling.

"Panaderia." Shay answered, "They volunteered to go pick it up."

He knew 'volunteered' wasn't an accurate word. Often with them, the trucks would go through the drive-through of whatever restaurant they stopped at, got a little extra to hand off to the tank, and hit the road. Anytime they were bunking somewhere for the night, it was usually up to one person to order and bring in the food.

Clyde sighed, "Hopefully, they don't charge us like last time." He felt himself blush a little at Shay, letting out a little laugh at the memory as the three broke off into different directions. With the two of them headed to the hangar while Rex headed back for the house.

In contrast to the outside world, the hanger almost looked like a dark cave where the sound of power tools and machinery graced their ears. But once you got past the threshold of the main door, it was almost like your textbook idea of what a personal auto shop could be. With its old functions as a storage unit meant to fit something as significant as a pair of combine tractors, the room barely had a single divide minus the little 'office' to the right side that ran almost all the way towards the back where they kept the more delicate supplies and equipment. In the far back corner where the office ended, bright flashing of bluish-white light filled the space, surrounded by a thick black tarp as sparks danced across the floor.

Behind them, facing away from the back wall that housed a rack of tires, shelves, and a giant twelve-foot-long American flag hanging on the wall with theirs off to the left and the state of Oklahoma's on the right, sat KnightOne—jacked high enough in the air that you could walk right underneath its axles. Its hood and driver door was propped open with a ladder going up to the latter. Various cables run up into the cab with its front wheels off to the side, and the front end slowly begins to take on a new form, with a bush guard slowly being added.

But the real eye-catching piece was the radar truck; the dish aimed at the ceiling was almost high enough to knock against the overhead lights with the rear jacked up on its rear supports to allow the back wheels to be removed and rolled to the side. Moving along the side, Clyde closed the door a bit to avoid hitting his head as he stepped around a dolly with a crate full of equipment freshly wrapped from the factory.

More wires and cables draped from the cab where the control center sat. Most of the screens except the furthest two had been removed, with the chair that used to be inside now sitting behind them on the shop floor. In a fairly awkward potion with their rump in the air, hunched over the keyboards pressing up against a computer tower, a woman in roughly her early thirties had her right arm reached for into the opposite side of the cab into where the more complicated electrical components resided.

"What did I just do? Did I unplug the compressor?" Clyde and Shay heard her muttering as she fiddled with something out of sight.

"Everything alright, Erin?" he asked. Something sparked behind the panel where her arm was; they could see a brief flash of light before the technician quickly retracted her hand to see if it was hurt.

"I question how Wurman could even think of putting some of this onto a chopped van back in the 90s…" She said, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses, "Some of this is still good if you plan to keep it as a stationary unit. Probably end up gutting the rest of it and seeing if the transceiver is still good."

"How much you think that's gonna take?" Shay asked as Clyde stepped aside, and she climbed up the side steps to get a closer look.

Taking off her glasses, Erin deeply rubbed her eyes as she breathed, thinking over the numbers. "Honestly, there's a solid three to four weeks of work between what's broken or the troubleshooting the new stuff with the old."

Everyone was grateful for one thing when getting the radar: it had come with a kind of two for one deal. Some of them may be good with the mechanical elements of everything, even if it's limited or self-taught, but computer technology, enough half a decade old with something as sensitive as the radar, was a bit out of their league that would take a couple of years to master fully.

Thus, when they first were in the talking stages of the purchase, Erin Smith offered her services to help the team—having worked with the broader scope of the technology since the early 2000s when the technology was starting to really advance. Saying that while she'd stay to help make sure the truck was up and firing on all cylinders, she was needed around the region to make sure other trucks and the more extensive network for the National Weather Service were in order.

Clyde could definitely say that if he had the obsession with water vapor as Lincoln did, Erin would make for a great teacher along with Rex. Between the two of them, Lincoln and Shay were, at best, the only ones to understand 80 percent of what they said when they started to get technical. And each time he saw them together at a table or surrounding a computer, he couldn't stop thinking how it looked like Papa Bear and Mama Bear teaching the kids the family trade.

"Hey."

A voice called down from below, startling them. A hand gripped the edge around the gas tank as it upped out the source of the voice on a creeper from underneath the truck. A ratchet wrench in his other hand with grease covering his arms, safety goggles with a tiny flashlight taped to the side, and a bandana covering a bald head greeted them.

"If you're gonna be moving so much, don't do it while I'm down here." He said no more as he quickly disappeared back under the truck like a turtle retracting its head.

"Sorry, Danny," Erin said, leaning out the door before pulling back inside.

If there was one thing that Clyde had learned since he stumbled upon the man under the truck and in the back welding, it was that by giving them enough motivation (free beer/giving them money for beer), Ben and Daniel Gilbert could build anything. They had been chasing not too long before Lincoln had made his first real season traveling down here to chase when he met them on the road. They were originally from Hays, Kansas, working from some of the auto shops that worked on regular automotive to custom vehicles for fleets. Chasing was just something they did to kill and enjoy the time.

It was to Lincoln's luck that when he presented the idea to build Storm Shrieker, the two had already had some experience working on and off another intercept vehicle called the TIV1 in the past, which helped immensely in tackling a project like this. Physically the oldest out of all the armored tornado vehicles and second to be created, its mess of a path to being reborn helped them make decisions ahead of time in how they would build a 9-ton tank to be road-legal in most states. When he and Lincoln were out in the field, the two of them were busy building the beast, and when they came back, it was an even crazier time at just how much they could get done in days.

That and it was a good investment in buying a laser and waterjet cutter to help fabricate new and spare parts. It was also nice to have two out of three mechanics on the team share a similar brainwave with each other when it came to work. But they tended to be a bit too 'crazy' at times when they got bored.

Shaking his head, Clyde went to speak again until Daniel suddenly rolled back out, "Foods here." He said, pushing himself with the truck as he rolled to the other side of the shop. Tossing his wrench into a toolbox as he stood up, dusting himself off.

Though Clyde would ask how he knew the food was here, the sound of a roaring diesel engine filled the land as they glanced out the door to see a dust cloud racing down the road. A form of gray briefly passed the house before it disappeared, reappearing as it came fishtailing up the driveway, sending gravel flying, rocketing past the house and vehicles as it abruptly stopped in the grassy patch between the buildings.

As the dust cleared, the engine slowly winded down as little dinks from under the hood spot of the warm motor cooled down after a sudden speedy use; the doors flew open as the duo exited. But as Lincoln went to rest his door on the wall without possibly hitting the mirror, Clyde knew something was different.

He had seen his bro have many different kinds of looks over the years. All ranged from 'Get me a damn coffee soon, or someone is about to die' to 'I have so much energy I could run like Forrest Gump right now.' And what he saw was one that he had the unfortunate high score of seeing the most out of everyone. His hair was a bit frizzled like someone was grabbing clumps of it, his clothes were a bit ruffled, and as he lazily put a foot on the spike rig to turn himself out and slide out of his seat, he wobbled for a second when his feet hit the ground.

His and anyone else's explanation would be he had a freakout. To the crew, with the hidden smile he was failing at keeping secret to Ronnie having a similar problem, Clyde hoped the tank didn't smell like the stink again.

And prayed to whatever God would listen that their food wasn't affected in any way.

"You're a bit early." He said, approaching. He glanced at his watch, "Figured the food would have taken longer."

Before answering, Lincoln leaned back and reached back behind his seat, pulling out two large bags loaded with food containers, "I asked them to whip up what we had last time. They remembered." He said, handing the bags to Clyde. "So we had time to kill before we had to pick it up."

Without missing a beat, Clyde took a step back as he held his hands out and grabbed the handles of the bags. He held them out as far as he could like he was holding a pair of time bombs. "Anything else?" He asked, fearing what could possibly be the answer.

"Nothing important," Lincoln said as he reached back behind him to the turret controls on the dashboard. Pressing a switch as the camera hatch snapped open. Moving a bit back in his seat, he reached up and unlocked the roof hatch and pushed the panel up as it rattled against the roof. As he went to grab more bags of food, handing a pair of drink carriers to Ronnie before she slipped out, Clyde felt a shiver run down his back as his mental defenses manned the frontline to fight off a blitzkrieg of unimaginable thoughts from breaking through.

Moving around the front of the tank to the house to get the food set up, the others gradually came up to Lincoln's side as they began taking several more bags of food that covered the middle section of the cab. Though with each bag he handed, he did feel his joyful mood dim a bit at the thought of how much he had just spent on Mexican food. With their numbers practically doubled this year, it meant they would have to put more resources into keeping up vehicle maintenance, fuel, and food, and he dared not imagine what the hotel bills they would be seeing this year would bring.

Between each vehicle, they were going from three to four people. At best, they used the space to store their luggage and extra supplies, even with Storm Shrieker having four main seats, the fifth if the passenger wanted to sit up in the turret all the time, with the back loaded with their tools, some parts, his camera, and their own bags. Crews of three were manageable; add in a fourth or more, and it became a bit cramped having to readjust things. They had only known the film crew since the end of January when it looked like it was going to be an early start to the season and that they had the whole season to get to know each other, it still felt a bit strange being filmed by a stranger in the back of the truck.

Though if it was one thing he thanked any deity that was listening, it was the fact that while the Knights had already been outfitted with their cameras for the show, Sky Spy was a long way away before being chase worthy, that they hadn't put any of the equipment into the tank yet. No one needed to know what personal matters went on between people, let alone record it even on accident. But he wouldn't say he would be lying at thinking of all the craziness that was going to be this year.

Yet as soon as he grabbed the last bag and slid out of the truck, once his shoes hit gravel and grass, he felt his mind completely phase out from the earlier adrenaline as he slowly gazed up upon the back of the house. He looked through the back screen doors as his team gathered around the kitchen, trying to organize whose food was whose with the camera crew popping in from the depths of the living room. Even from out here, he could see someone had made a joke and heard a dozen voices all ring out in laughter or shake their heads with smiles,

It felt odd and welcoming.

In a house this big, it was a bit empty, even with just Clyde and Ronnie being the only ones that had a permanent residence. Everyone else in the group could spend the nights in some of the spare bedrooms for days with more rooms to spare for guests, but they usually spent their time back home near the city.

When they first found the place and worked out a deal of a lifetime, it was just him and Clyde for the better part of the first two years. Sometimes, they would park the truck, recline the seats and go to bed then and there. Then came Rex in that year. Ben, Daniel, Patrick, Erin, and Ronnie in the next. The house felt more lively went everyone was here. Like a house full of members, all enjoying their time under one roof.

Things were all on track. With everything going on and coming up, this year had to do gangbusters compared to last year. Pay off the radar, get some upgrades and new equipment here and there, and question how many times they'll have to visit a body shop after every hail storm. Once the twisters are done, it's onto hurricanes and then a nice break in November if nothing else pops up nature-wise. The past two years had given him plenty of time and reasons to go through his decision. With life on the track like it was right now, a decade from now, he imagined that this would be the new land that would get a taste of the Loud bloodline. That this house would go from just a few to fully loaded one day and into the future for the next generation or two.

He knew one way that could change overnight—still feeling the irony of how his choice of the bedroom was at the end of the hallway again, yet with the most windows to see the world. Years ago, he still expected to see most of the doors open up and the mob of Loud Family racing to the bathroom. Now that problem was extinct for him. Three choices and two ways to get to them; if the whole family were here, it'd be more of a game of who got to the coffee maker first.

But that wasn't then or now. Or probably even in the near future. Maybe one day, when everything was out of the fog and into the sunlight, did he think of the possibilities.

He didn't know if it was luck that those small checks going to his family were making a dent in their situation. He didn't like knowing that he had the power to fix it all now. But if he did, then that would leave him and everyone in their own trouble. His family was strong. Divided, they fell like match wood; united, they stood stronger than the larger redwoods on earth. And he knew they had the strength to hold out just a little longer for what he was trying to build by the end of the season. From what his dad had told him the last time they called, Lynn had been acting in his place as the morale support for everyone, and it proved to be enough force to keep them going. He knew his big headstrong sis wouldn't let them admit defeat. And this season, he would make sure they got the gold.

For now, he needed to focus. Having big goals and working up to them is a challenge that needs careful attention. It's good to have things on your mind; it makes you seek direction as to what you want and why you're doing it. But out here, he knows that if you become distracted, it could either end with waking up in a hospital or not waking up at all.

---

6 Days Later…

March 21st, Day 1

"Throughout February and March, meteorologists had been forecasting a possible sequence of severe weather across the western Texas region into parts of northern Louisiana and southeast Arkansas. With a high-pressure system feeding warm moist air that has been growing for days, a low-pressure system forming over Colorado is sweeping a blast of cold air from the southern Rockies across the plains towards this unstable airmass."

"And storm chasers across the country have been waiting and watching for this very moment. With the National Weather Service declaring a broad area with a convective outlook of a Slight Risk across most of the western and northern regions, overnight from Wednesday into Thursday, this had become upgraded to include an Enhanced Risk covering portions of the of Lousiana and Texas border. Now a small area on Friday is being labeled to a Moderate Risk with the SPC calling a new 20% chance for tornadoes."

"With early daytime heating further increasing the instability with storm motion expected to be nearly 30 to 40 miles per hour, many are racing to get into position to intercept as many of the day's tornadoes as possible in the first big setup for the year…."

"How was that?" Lincoln asked, sitting across from someone from the production team, having his own pair of headphones on with a computer placed off to the side and a microphone directly in front of him. The man punched in a few keys on his laptop before glancing at him and giving the thumbs up.

Taking a pair of headphones off, Lincoln rose from his seat popping his back. Gazing around the crowded restaurant at the sound of clanking silverware and chic chat. Whole ten-person tables were filled with food and laptops, people on their phones discussing the forecast for the day and where the best target area would be.

Squeezing by as another man went by to rejoin his table, twisting and shuffling his way past backpacks, pushed-out chairs, and some staff members trying to keep up with the late lunch rush, he made it to the front entrance. Opening the door to be greeted by a blast of thick warm air hitting him in the face, he had to bring a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun until a large puffy white cloud had rolled in front of its light. Though trying to get the sunspots out of his eyes, he looked around the hive of activity they had partially caused.

They had left their home base the day prior to getting a headstart on positioning for any possible outbreak. Driving through the entirety of Thursday and making camp in Marshall, Texas, they had staked their morning spot at the Whataburger to the south of the metroplex so that if anything fired up, they only had to bust south to get on Interstate 20.

And they were far from the only ones with that plan.

Wrapped all around the restaurant to the large parking lot to a tractor-trailer business, dozens of cars populated the area with three times as many people gathered around, from chasers of all different levels of professions to travelers from all walks of life passing through to locals wanting to see the rolling circus of antennas and cameras. Chasers stood around chatting with friends, others showing off new camera rigs and mesonets or custom probes they hope to deploy this year. Some carloads of families even came from the surrounding suburbs to take a look with kids just getting off school to run around, ask questions, get pictures, and splash in puddles that remained from a storm early this morning. Not something worth chasing, but it did one thing that made everyone get ready for later.

It made everything hot. Hot and wet. Two things that are great if you're with a lady or waiting for a storm, though probably not if you're fighting in the jungle. It might have been 72 degrees but with this humidity, it was making it feel like a hard 80. And that was both good and bad.

With the storms earlier this morning, they were leaving behind a pocket of air behind them that anything that taps into it could go severe. But that led to a new problem: High Precipitation/ HP supercells. In layman's terms, so.. much… rain.

Sure, he'd chase anything that presented an opportunity to even see a tornado. Many of the chasers here would agree. But when it comes to fast-moving storms over terrain filled with increasing hills and heavy amounts of trees, chasing becomes more of asking the question: is it worth it?

They've chased HP storms before, sometimes getting some good lightning shots or when it clears enough to start letting the sunlight through. But between him filming and the others, even just civilians on the roads, it's impossible to see anything without radar. Filming is impossible because of how dark heavy rain can make the inside of a storm become that even using lightning, like during night chases, is useless. It could be raining sideways, and suddenly, it goes in a different direction; next thing you know, you're about to core an EF2 tornado when stuck in a traffic jam.

The Sky Spy was to eliminate that problem eventually, but since starting to when that truck was ready, they relied on visual observation to read the storm and direct a way to intercept it. You see rotation on radar, and you can guess something is there, but when it's hidden by rain, you can't tell if that dark area it's just more heavy rain or a half-mile wedge on the ground.

Was it something to be concerned about? Absolutely. Even in a 9-ton tank, it was a massive risk without the right information. And with the bigger convoy this year, they had to take extra steps to make sure everyone was on the same page.

Waiting for a car to pass, Lincoln powerwalked his way across the lot to where his team was parked on the other side. Storm Shrieker stood at the front of the pack, doors wide open as he watched Ronnie help hoist one out of a number of kids gathered around into the cab so they could get a picture from their parents with more standing at the front. With each laugh, a kid got to experience a moment of being behind the wheel of a tank; even with her back mostly facing him, Lincoln could see the smile on her face each time she helped a little one up.

Behind them sat what they had dubbed 'the Calvary' or Cal-1 to 3 as the production vehicles. Just behind it sat the Knights with K1 in the line, Patrick making sure the supplies were weather-tight, and K2 on the outside with their respective vehicles. Beyond that into the lot sat several more vehicles, mostly of chasers who had also been making last-minute preparations or were showing off equipment. From just off the entrance to the restaurant sat two Ka-Band radar trucks from Texas Tech stood deployed, scanning the partly cloudy skies.

Today was going to be an exciting day. He could feel it.

Coming up to the tank, he missed what Ronnie had said to a group of kids as they turned back and headed to their parents. With a moment of freedom, she grabbed onto a side rail and climbed up into the driver's seat. Reaching to the side to pull out a rapidly melting drink, she finally caught sight of him approaching. "Management decided to kick us off?"

"No." He said, leaning up against the outrigger, "They're probably enjoying the extra business this is giving as free advertising."

"Well," Ronnie glanced up into the mirror before she took a long sip of her drink, "They're at it again." She nodded behind her.

Looking through the back windows, Lincoln could see the subtle movement of Rex's hat moving back and forth with Clyde's hair briefly poking into view. Even with all the extra people and cars running, he could hear the old song that is often sung whenever a day that is uncertain of future events for today shall be. Coming around the back, he had a front row to witness the sight of Rex, Clyde, and Shay gathered around KnightOne, arguing around a laptop with two of their phones off to side with radar, models, and hodographs as but a small sample of the mess the three of them pointed back and forth.

But before they could go into another slew of arguing, Lincoln stepped in between Rex and Clyde, "Arrggh! What be the course we set sail for treasure today, mateys?" He said in his best pirate. Closing one eye and holding his hand out like it was a hook. Receiving a little laugh from Shay and a smile from Clyde who shakes his head.

For Rex, he got down to the point, "Right now, we have maybe three different areas we can target."

"Problem is the storm motion and location," Clyde added.

"Realistically, we'd have a better chance waiting here until something goes off near Tenaha. We'd have all of Interstate 20 to get ahead of any leading cells and drop down 49 to get onto whatever forms further down the line."

"And I said if we wait here, then we'd get stuck behind the cold front," Shay responded. Pointing to the computer where a future radar loop for the day showed that there would be some isolated storms, but they would quickly get merged into a broader line of storms more likely to dump heavy rain than twisters. "And cells we get on near the border are going to get choked out before they even have a chance to mature. So, area number two, we think, is closer to Minden out past Shreveport. We can still use 20 and even route 71 if we want to double back. Really, our main focus should be around the Lake Bistineau State Park area."

Taking in the info as he watched the screen, Lincoln asked, "And option three?"

Clyde grabbed his phone and zoomed out of the map display. Switching it to a streamlined map and zooming in to an area further south. "Down towards Natchitoches. It'll take us twice as long to get down there, but with the jet, it's more likely we can get more isolated storms that won't try to kill each other."

"If we go that far south, then anything that forms north, we can kiss goodbye. Even if we busted ass back up 49 and took 20 east, we won't be able to catch anything." Rex rebuffed, "And taking 64 to 167 is just us trying to chase ghosts at that point."

Pondering over the information, the three of them waited for Lincoln's decision on where he wanted to go. It was his call that would decide the order of the day for the next several hours. If he wanted to stay here and wait or go south or east, they would follow.

"What's the thermos looking like again?" He asks.

Rex opened another window showing a long list of numbers that most would say was just a mental pain trying to understand, but to them, the numbers told them what chance they had to catch a tornado and where to look. The CAPE was hovering just over 2600, the sheer itself was a solid 25knots, and dew points were on the steady rise as expected into the 80s over the next two hours. The whole of northwestern Louisiana was practically a storm factory ready to go into production. Once the cap was broken through, he had little doubt that they wouldn't be seeing a tornado today.

It was just a matter of how many they would see and how many they could intercept.

"I agree that Natchitoches is a no-go. While I'd like to see the whole storm, it's better to have options to catch what's coming up than go after to get back ahead of it. Honestly, my gut tells me that we should at least be over in Shreveport before anything really fires up."

"So you wanna go more east?" Rex asked, to which Lincoln nodded. "Then we should get moving. God knows what can pop up in the next hour." He said, closing his laptop as the others snatched their phones. It wasn't precisely the pinpoint location they would be chasing in, but if it was anything like previous times, they wouldn't be in the same spot for long.

"...you guys get all that?" Lincoln suddenly asked like he was talking to another person. The others were a bit surprised when they looked around to see themselves somewhat surrounded by the crew. Glancing around to see another on the opposite side of the truck with a boom mic above them, having not been there since Lincoln came up.

"This is gonna take a while to get used to…" Clyde muttered, not used to the sudden attention. And the others nodded in agreement.

The first time they were officially in front of the camera was a handful of times in the last week. Mostly involves them sitting on a stump with one of their vehicles parked in the background with the producer asking them to explain something, what they're doing, or just who they are. Their written contract had explicitly stated that the production team couldn't interfere with their operations. If the team wanted to go from Galveston, Texas, all the way up to the Canadian border and only stop for bathroom and gas breaks to chase a single storm or call in a day early, they would do it, and the crew would follow. It was just something to get used to for the next couple of weeks.

And for the Loud, it was honestly a bit fun in a way. He remembered back when he was younger, and he would talk to himself out loud about what the situation was and what his plan to navigate it was going to be. He was often thought of as being crazy at talking to thin air (for what anyone knew, he could have been talking to ghosts) until he was around 13 and started to keep more of his inner monologue to himself. Though with the camera crew, rolling or not, it did make him feel like at least this time he was technically talking to 'someone' in the form of whoever the audience would see that video.

But the season was still young, and they were burning daylight. He loved a good night chase whenever there were a lot of lightning or power flashes to reveal a phantom vortex, but he'd prefer being able to see what was on the ground.

Heading around the passenger side of Shrieker, he hoisted himself up by the massive inner door lock into the cab. "Alright, Let's get rolling." He said, climbing out of the passenger seat and over the glovebox into the back.

For the time, Ronnie had been content with just sitting there with her drink in hand, leg hanging out the door, and reclining back with her sunglasses on. As soon as Lincoln's words registered, the drink was plopped right back into the cupholder, and her hand went to turn the keys. The engine cranked twice before the slumbering diesel came to life once again. Reaching back to her left, Ronnie took a fist full of a large leather strap tied to the sidebar of the door and, with a heave, yanked it forward. The some 200-pound door slammed hard into place as soon Clyde climbed into the passenger seat.

"Where are we heading?" She asked.

"Shreveport. From there, we'll have to wait and see." He said, opening his laptop mounted onto the dashboard via a swing arm. "Feeling right now we're just a bit too far west."

"Moving to more promising hunting grounds, got it."

With his computer up and a map of the area loading, Clyde grabbed the radio, calling out, "Shrieker to all units, we'll be leaving in the next 30 seconds, so let's get packed and moving,"

As he placed the microphone back on the dashboard, all around him, their actions had become a signal for others to start packing up and get rolling. Their cameraman and a producer came running out from the restaurant, with the latter jumping into the car behind KnightTwo and the former coming up to the back end. Lincoln helped to push the door open to let them in; as they awkwardly crouched below the relatively low rear portion of the ceiling, they got into their seat behind Ronnie. Behind them, the others had climbed into their trucks and were making final checks to ensure they didn't miss anything.

By the radar trucks and around the parking lot, other chasers were doing the same as from what experience had spoken for; if you follow a tank meant to go into a tornado, then there is a great chance you'll see that tornado. Some cars only needed to make sure their doors were closed before pulling out of the lot onto the road. Ronnie switched the truck into drive and steadily eased it forward. Feeling the slight bump from the change in how the lots were, she waited for a van to pass by before coming up to the edge of the road.

Waiting just a few moments for the red stop light to turn green, she gave the truck a bit more gas than needed as the exhaust roared out as it sped into the intersection with a nearly ten-vehicle-long convoy of chasers following behind it. And as they headed down to get on the highway, one thought echoed through all their minds; the chase was on.

An hour down the road, the team had crossed into Louisiana and were snaking their way down Interstate 20 through the city of Shreveport. And the skies above them were already beginning to show signs of how unstable today was. As the convoy crossed the Red River into Bossier City, the gray murk above them was beginning to condense. Clouds far above looked like they were stationary when what was closer to the ground was moving faster to where they were keeping ahead of it. More storm clouds forming ahead of them slowly merged to blanket the land as a steady rain began to be dumped on the surrounding city.

In Storm Shrieker, the tank rocked as it exited off the main bridge. In the last hour since leaving, Marshall had been relatively quiet up until the rain started falling. For the most part, the crew up front had been focused mainly on driving or watching the scenery pass by. Though for the last ten minutes, the two of them would glance in the rearview as they listened to Lincoln talking to the cameraman with another voice asking the occasional question.

In the back, Lincoln had his seat rotated to where he was mainly facing head-on to the cameraman, but with the chase getting hotter, he was sitting just under his turret with its seat folded up to give him space to move around. His some 50-pound camera was sitting in his lap as he ran the third mental checklist of the day on it so far to make sure it was ready to go up at a moment's notice.

"Well… since I started chasing, I've filmed and photographed maybe about…" he looked off into space to comb his memory, "About two hundred eighty tornadoes since all the way back in 2017, along with about thirteen volcanoes, seven major hurricanes, nineteen wildfires, and only one blizzard. Quite a lot since I've gotten my driver's license, and I am not even 20 yet. I think it really falls down to me always trying to keep ahead of everything, get a plan ready, and go as soon as possible. Making sure to cover everything that could happen or be needed for us to make the best move."

"You going in that helicopter to get closer to Mauna Loa last year right after it erupted was not the best of moves," Clyde uttered up front. Lincoln looked up from his camera to see his best friend sending him a 'frustrated' look that failed to hold any real negativity.

"I have to disagree wholeheartedly." Lincoln smiled, shaking his head.

The cameraman spun around when they heard Clyde laugh at his statement, "You literally had us chase an outbreak at the beginning of November, go all the way to Florida to get hit by Nicole not even a week later. Go all the way to Hawaii for a volcano. Fly back overnight to chase another outbreak, then fly all the way back to Hawaii to film the volcano more."

"And we had time to spare for each one." Lincoln defended. "And you can't deny all that didn't give us a helluva payday for Christmas."

Clyde had to agree that he was technically correct. Sure, they lost who knows how much sleep and experienced an ungodly amount of jet lag, crossing the Pacific four times alone. With mainly just the two of them, it was a chore to cover so much ground. But it made it all worth it when after the last significant outbreak in December finished up and they ran the numbers, all their operating expenses of the year, the cost to travel so much, and the material and labor to build Storm Shrieker were recouped to the point they made a profit.

It was just a shame when he went home that Christmas. He was too tired for even his dads to get him out of the house…

"But really," Lincoln continued as the camera came back around, "My goal isn't exactly original, I will admit. Getting a shot from inside the tornado? It's already been done dozens of times from probes; people in the wrong place at the wrong time happen to have a camera rolling or other chasers now and before my time."

"So then, why tornadoes?" The cameraman asked.

Lincoln paused his work again, rolling those two words around like a pair of dice; he was getting ready to throw a lucky seven.

"What I want to capture… is the feeling of what it's like to stand before a literal titan. People's minds can't comprehend that part of the sky above us is drilling into the ground. You see things defying gravity, moving at speeds that a simple garden hose could be moving fast enough to slice off the top floor of a house. The ground is shaking; you feel the roar of Mother Nature's rage and just…

He found himself slowly gazing up into his turret. Looking up to the growing darkness in the sky as the rain streaked down the camera hatch being blasted by the wind from them driving. Just for a moment, thinking of how many times he had seen the very sight or feel itself against his face.

It made him look around the world and feel so much more… alive.

"...It's beauty in the moment of chaos really…. All hell is breaking loose around you, and all you can do is watch and get out of the way."

A sharp beeping suddenly brought him out of his little daydream as he pushed his camera to the side and crawled back up to the front. Clyde had given his full focus to his computer as a new weather bulletin played across the screen.

[Heads up, Shreveport NWS just pinned a tornado watch to the cells to our south-southeast.] Rex called out from the radio.

Without missing a beat, Clyde snatched the mic from the hook and replied, "Think we should stop for a second and see what's cooking?"

["Gas station coming up to our left next exit."]

"Copy."

The line shifted as they switched over lanes. Flying past the traffic slowing down from the storm as they sped around to get ground faster, they eased their way down the offramp and under the overpass. Arriving at their new destination, a Brake Time gas station was devoid of most signs of life, minus a single car, a pump, and another parked on the backside of the building. Entering through the far end, KnightOne led the flow as they looped around the main fuel station. Coming to a sort of lineup with it on the outside, Shrieker in the middle, and KnightTwo just barely under the canopy.

Once the truck stopped, Lincoln climbed forward and undid the latch to the roof hatch. Pushing it to the side with a clang against the rubber stopper, he hoisted himself up. Having to lean his torso on edge to avoid standing on the glovebox too much, he stuck out up to his stomach as he felt the steady rains begin to soak into his orange shirt. Looking to his south, past the signs and highway, the darkness began taking its hold on the land as lights in the distance flickered on. Some trees and flags already soaked were swaying ever so softly, but you could see them kick up in brief pockets with a sudden burst of heavier rain.

To the public, it was a sign of the main part of the storm getting closer; the heavier rain would make having an umbrella useless once the wind ate it inside out. But to them, it was a sign that the storm was growing. Each sudden gust of wind was breathing like a monster awakening from slumber.

"You guys feel that?" He heard Daniel say as he sat halfway out his driver's window with a reflective yellow raincoat covering him with a camera in his left hand. "Cold wind?"

Lincoln nodded, "Gust front must be really pushing it."

"Hey!" Lincoln heard Rex shout out. Turning around towards KnightTwo, the man stuck his head out the window, "It just went tornado warned!"

"What?"

It wasn't that uncommon for storms to go tornado warned early. Sometimes, it can result from a lack of radar coverage in an area, making it hard for the network to see just what the storm is doing. A lot could happen in 30 seconds between scans; in that time, a storm could go from a pathetic rain factory to having baseball hail falling. Today was the kind of day where the conditions were bountiful for storms to explode when they got the moisture to fuel them and go severe fast. But he didn't expect it to be this fast this early.

Quickly ducking back inside, Lincoln stuck himself up between the seats to get a look at the computer. Zooming out, Clyde revealed to the crew their storm on a looping radar, gradually becoming larger and larger with a large blob of orange and red making its way north to their east.

"Area of interest is roughly west, northwest of Sligo moving at 35." He said, switching to the velocity radar. The display swapped its bright blues, greens, and yellows for a varying scale of greens and reds only where a tiny spinning icon was located just to the north of Sligo. "In any sense, we're in a solid position to cut across it, but we're gonna get into a lot of heavy rain."

"Hopefully, we can see it once the heavier stuff passes..." Lincoln muttered as the next scan came in. As the screen switched back to the normal display, the screen told them the rotation within the rain was marching its way across the Fifi Bayou. An area that, while it had decent and paved roads, was a tree hell to see anything.

Pulling back, he looks out the back window to see the growing clouds. The rain and wind were growing heavier, and he could feel the same growing in his blood. Out there was a tornado. Trying to be one with the ground or already making its path of destruction known for records. It was this kind of day that had reminded him years ago of just the way he chased. Only for years now, he knows what he can do.

"Let's get back on the highway." He said as he quickly climbed back out of the hatch. "Let's get further east. Try and stay ahead of it before it gets overtaken by the rain." With a nod, Rex ducked back inside, rolling his window up. Daniel did the same as he peeled his soaked hat off and handed Ben his camera.

Dropping back down into the cab and pulling the roof hatch closed, Lincoln ducked around and stood up in his turret. Taking the side handles, he gave the nearly 500-pound metal and glass dome on bearings a heave to point south.

"Ronnie, lights on, please." He said as he quickly sat back down to finish up his work on the camera.

Feeling the anticipation growing, Ronnie reached back behind where Lincoln's seat was and grabbed two out of four sets of impact helmets and safety goggles. Handing one to Clyde as he quickly strapped his helmet on as she placed hers on her lap.

"Lights," She reached up towards a small control panel above the rearview mirror. Flipping a red safety switch on and triggering three adjacent toggles, "On."

Outside around the tank, numerous amber lights flashed to life. Either as a rapid flash or a steady glow as a lightbar on top covered with plexiglass rapidly flashed a mix of orange and blue. KnightTwo came to life as an orange and green light bar came to life with the roof fog lights flashing on low. KnightOne was a bit less flashy; a pair of older rotators that would fit on construction vehicles covered in a hail guard with two beacon lights on the backend. All three, combined with their lights on, illuminated the area in bright light as KnightTwo pulled forward, with Shrieker and KnightOne following a second behind.

Pausing to make sure the way was clear, KnightTwo quickly gunned it onto the road in the far lanes. Queuing into a red light that connected the westbound highway, the trucks nearly burned rubber on wet asphalt as the light changed to green. Speeding under the overpass once more as they wiped around through the second light and raced up the onramp.

…Only to come face to face with nearly gridlocked traffic.

Restaining herself from flooring it and causing Knight One to smash into them, Ronnie had to put a lot more of her foot down on the brake pedal to prevent from colliding with the backend of the Chevy in front of her.

"Oh… you gotta be freaking kidding me…" She gritted her teeth.

Unable to believe it either, not caring for the rain he let in, Lincoln popped back open the roof hatch to get a better view of the new mess before them. A snake of white headlights greeted him from the direction of the city. Semis, cargo trucks, cars, vans, and sedans were nearly bumper-to-bumper, moving slow enough that, at best, you'd have to fast walk to outrun it all.

Leaning down to snatch his impact helmet, Lincoln instead pulled off a pair of half headphones with an extended microphone on the left-right side. Holding it up to his ear, he radioed to the truck in front of them, trying to open up a gap.

"Rex…"

["Police might be trying to shut down the highway. Storms moving in a northward direction, so I don't know what they're trying to do."]

Looking out ahead beyond the slight traffic curve, he could see police lights on the next overpass. Doing what he had no idea. If they were trying to get people off the road out of the way of the storm, that was understandable, but with a storm going nearly as fast as the traffic, they were literally staying with it.

Beginning to feel his frustration for the day start to creep up his spine, Lincoln accepted his fate and lowered back inside. Keeping the trucks nearly bumper to bumper as they slowly merged on the highway, forcing one truck that was jacked up with wheels wider than the lane itself to think twice if it really wanted to see if it could for a tank off the road. Half a mile up, Ronnie resisted the urge to use the shoulder as a third lane after passing the police car. Sure, all the flashing orange and blue lights on the tank made them look similar to an emergency vehicle, it was still enough for everyone to know that they were just for making sure people watched out.

Trying to keep his mind in focus, Lincoln took the time to make final preparations on his camera. Without the tank rocking back and forth when at speed yet feeling every bump the road had, he made sure the memory cards were locked in place and tightly sealed. A camera was no good if it couldn't keep what it captured, and getting the inside as dry as possible when the outside was sitting in a flood was a challenge he had learned years ago when he was using his cell phone.

Locking the side panel shut, grabbing onto one of three sets of handles that wrapped around it like a protective cage, he hoisted it up onto a modified quad-pod that was bolted onto the front half of his turret. Giving him enough space to look around the sides and have the option to have the folding chair mounted in. As he locked the camera into its track, he noticed they had begun to pick up speed. A glance out the port side revealed to him a sign stating the speed limit for this stretch was just 60mph, yet the speed traffic itself was moving just barely fast enough that they were staying ahead of the storm as cars weaved around crawling semis or vehicles parked on the side of the road.

The heavier rain was beginning to catch up to them as they ducked into the passing lane. Sheets of rain falling on the road so hard and fast Ronnie had to put the wipers on high to see enough to drive. Plugging in a few cables to the underside watched as the screen to the left flashed to life, running its bootup sequence. Letting the unit cycle up, Lincoln looked back out to the horizon. Just imagining that something out there was looking right back as he mentally felt the distance between close, like two battleships waiting to get within range of the other's guns.

With the rig in place, he took in a deep breath to calm himself. It did him no good if he had frustration running so high that it distracted him. Sliding around the rig, he plopped himself back into his seat. Snatching his helmet as he looked towards the cameraman filming the whole thing.

"Here we go…" he said, strapping on the helmet and residing himself to look out and wait for their chance.

Crawling at just over forty miles per hour, they covered six miles in twenty minutes. You would be able to get there in under ten at that speed, but traffic, idiots who don't pay attention when it's raining, and cars being extra cautious slowed their moments to points where they were at a standstill again. Mentally, they were getting a bit tired of the snail's pace, and Rex decided it was best for them to pull off and wait for the storm to get closer.

[New report from spotters of a possible funnel near the south side of Flag Lake.]

"That's less than two miles away from us," Clyde remarked.

["Area of interest is still three miles to our south-southeast."]

"Game on," Ronnie muttered as she adjusted her chin strap. Trying to resist the urge not to let the anticipation derail her focus, "Come on, game be on…"

She didn't like waiting like this. She was someone who would be ready to jump and punch life in the face when it came time to do it. If there was downtime, she hung around the farm, visited some places to get a thrill, or spent time with Lincoln, even if it was with him editing photos and videos from past days. Driving hundreds of miles was boring in itself, but they were moving toward the action. Watching the anvils rising and streaks of lightning was really the world giving them the pre-show to what the main event was cooking up.

It was a feeling that Lincoln shared all too well for the past nine years, and even now, he still hated it. Nature was a stage show that required time to get to the climax of the series of events that unfold over the day, unlike video on demand, where you can skip to the ending. It took time for a hurricane to come ashore, a volcano to blow, and a twister to condense. Sometimes, the best stuff could happen before or after the main event has happened or add more to the beauty and power.

Waiting was what chasing was built on. Any hunter looking for prey knew that the wait was the time for you to prepare. He remembered doing it countless times back home, and it only aided him in the field.

Though he wouldn't deny that when anticipation starts to boil over, the urge to stay moving and hunt was something even the most veteran of chasers would experience.

"Lincoln, what you wanna-"

"I wanna go East." He answered Clyde sharply like he was waiting to be asked that very question, "Go like… like 20, 30, max. Hopefully, we can get into some lighter precept."

The three of them didn't take much to understand what he was thinking. With a slow double flick of the trigger, Ronnie flashed the high beams into KnightTwo, and the truck slowly began to pull back onto the highway. As Shrieker followed right behind, Lincoln adjusted himself to be on the inner edge of his seat. He held onto the back of the front seats as he snapped back and forth from the windshield to his window.

'Come on… where are you…'

As the forward two vehicles headed further East, KnightOne held itself further back. They weren't falling behind or staying put but opening the gap between them. They knew that the chance to intercept was on this highway, where they would act as the first marker between the three of them to coordinate the tank into the perfect position, with KnightTwo going further ahead than Shrieker to avoid getting hit themselves. But in situations like these where it is hard even to see if they were either under the mesocyclone or the wall cloud itself, only that the direction the rain curtains were coming in from the east-southeast told them they were close to the rotation itself. Anyone who was reporting the funnel sightings had to practically be underneath the rotation itself, trying to see through all the trees. Anyone driving on I20 that wasn't weather savvy wouldn't know a tornado was bearing down on them.

They were in the Bear's Cage, and where Mama Bear was, they didn't know.

Leaning over the steering wheel using Shrieker's tail lights as a guide, Daniel tried to multitask between driving, making sure no one hit them, and watching the radar on their laptop. "You see anything yet?" He asked his brother.

Despite the ungodly amounts of rain coming down and into the vehicle, his twin had his window rolled all the way down to get a clear view. His camera held forward so that it wasn't getting pelted by the wind as he stuck his head out enough that the side of his face was soaked.

"I don't." He replied, irritated. "Dammit-give us something other than trees for once!" He yelled out to the storm like an angry fan frustrated over a bombing performance.

But sometimes, things have to be bad before the good part can come and play. In moments, the rain had let up considerably. The light was becoming more prominent as the wind held steady. Feeling they were either out of it or in a lull, traffic started to pick up speed, and the group had to avoid causing a traffic jam themselves. But it was a brief pause, and a small patch of no trees quickly changed the situation.

"Oh shit!" Ben yelled out. Daniel asked what it was, but Ben was too focused on answering his brother as he snatched the radio.

In the other vehicles, everyone jumped when Ben's frantic voice blasted over the radio, ["Tornado! Tornado! To our… Southwest at our five o'clock!"]

Leaping up into his turret, Lincoln stared out of every rain-soaked window he could to try to see where the truck was just 40 yards behind them was looking at. He had to wipe away the fog forming on the glass from his rapid breathing as he felt his adrenaline beginning to pump hard. As they passed into an area with the trees thinned out, he felt his breath hitch briefly and locked eyes on his target.

"Stop! Stop! Pull over right here! I can see it!" he shouted, spinning around to have the hatch face south.

Doing as told, Ronnie quickly applied the brakes as Shrieker eased onto the shoulder near a small clearing that bordered the highway. A drainage ditch separated them from another road while a row of bare trees stood between them and their view of the funnel in the distance, with KnightOne pulling up just behind them. Putting it in park, she and Clyde unbuckled as they both opened their doors to step out on edge to get a better view. With a sharp hiss, Lincoln pulled back on a pair of levers as the hatch snapped fully open. Receiving a blast of rain to his face as he got a clear view of the storm.

Even with all the rain, they could see the top third portion of a stout white funnel hovering over the forest. It wasn't fully on the ground, not even a fully condensed funnel, but by squinting just enough, you could see a darker shape just below it. A mix of grays gave it a more cylinder shape as the rotation picked up anything it could. To some, they would argue it was weak and tiny compared to what the plains usually got.

But Lincoln and everyone knew not to judge a tornado by its shape. Early-stage tornadoes could increase in strength in the blink of an eye. Going from something that at best rips apart a weak tree to full-on leveling a house. Size meant nothing for strength. A ten-foot drillbit no bigger than the said house could have the power to level a town, while a mile-wide behemoth, at best, would cause lawn ornaments to be lost. Only with the right tools and equipment could anyone truly guess just what its true power was.

And that was a dangerous game they played. Guestimation had been their best tool at the moment for the past several years. Watching the storm grow, chew up the ground, become segmented with sub-vortices, or go from a wedge to rope and back again meant that their strength was always changing. He knew back when they were nearly taken out by the Rolling Fork tornado two years ago that he made sure to overbuild Storm Shrieker to allow for the small margin of error to have a bigger comfort space in case things went south bad.

They had the speed to outrun what they couldn't go in, the weight, armor, and anchoring to hold their ground when things get rough. With just their weight alone, they could handle low-end EF2s without deploying anything. But not doing so meant risking the thought there was no chance that those stead 120mph winds didn't suddenly become 220. It was because of these risks that Lincoln had asked for people like Rex to help guide him close or inside.

Ultimately, it was still his choice if he wanted to intercept or not.

And right now, watching as the storm marched towards the highway, he felt it in his veins that this would be a more tame intercept (if you could even call driving into tornadoes tame) than some of what they'd experienced before. They were on the right road for intercept. All they had to do was clear the Knights, load in his camera, drop shields, and just wait.

But as he watched, his eyes turned their focus away from the vortex to the churning sky it connected to. It wasn't easy seeing exactly where the wall cloud itself was. With the winds right now, he had to guess they were already under it, with the mesocyclone having the tornado being dragged on the backside.

Watching the storm moving overhead, he began to realize a new problem quickly.

The tornado was heading in their direction. At best, it was maybe two miles or less away from crossing the highway. But it was behind them, and they were on a stretch of road that went in the opposite direction to where they needed to go now; with traffic moving possibly above the speed limit, everyone noticed all the storm chasers parking along the shoulder. Highways were great for getting to places fast, but it was a horrible spot trying to deploy on. Not including anything with traffic, it was mainly down to there being limited places where they could turn around to adjust their position.

Had he not asked them to move forward, they would have been in a perfect position.

"Dammit," he growled. "We overshot it…"

"What's that?" Clyde asked, having heard his curse.

"We overshot it," Lincoln repeated as he spun his turret back to face forward. Snapping the hatch closed as he lowered back down. "Rex, any rough idea on how soon this thing will reach us?" He asked through his mic.

["At the speed it's moving, we might have just minutes."]

"Dammit. That's not enough…" he muttered, leaning back between the seats as he looked over the computer. Having gotten the clue something was up, the others came back inside, now more soaked than before, as their doors slammed shut behind them.

"Okay, what's the plan?" Ronnie asked, locking in and tightening her seat belt as she gripped the steering wheel and put the truck out of park.

"Clyde, see if there's an offramp or an emergency turnaround we can use."

"Next exit is not for another three miles." He said as he pulled up a road overlay that had them on the Interstate, where the off-ramp was and how far they'd have to go to their new target, "We won't have time to double back and catch it before it's crossing."

Lincoln let out a frustrated, filled groan as he snapped back to look out the window. Looking down at the side road across them, the drainage ditch only had a small stream of water flowing through it. If they floored it, they could plow right through and get on that road going…

Nearly colliding his helmet into the roll cage, Lincoln brought himself up to the cockpit as he looked over the map. Reaching a finger to the mouse pad to switch the overlay from just roads to include the terrain and details. His eyes scanned over everything he could see that would let his idea work.

And he found it.

"Alright, Plan B... Ronnie."

"Yeah?"

"Rex, get ready to follow our lead," he said into the microphone as he went back up to the turret, rotating it to face the rear towards the direction they came and where oncoming traffic was coming. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to get onto the other lane and get on the inner shoulder. Once we get past all these trees, we're gonna drive through the median."

"Through the median?" She was baffled at what he was thinking.

"Through the median!" He repeated, "When I say we're gonna cross over, got it?"

"Got it!" She exclaimed. Looking over towards Clyde as he dropped his safety goggles over his glasses after tightening his seat belt and holding onto the frame. He sent her a nervous glance, shaking his head at the prospects of this plan going bad very quickly.

"K-Two, you ready?"

["Lincoln, this isn't really a good idea."] Rex answered in doubt as the Chevy pulled forward a bit to give space for the tank.

"Noted," Lincoln replied as he stared out of his hatch, watching traffic. Compared to when they got back on the highway, traffic was now blazing past them, with people having either gotten word that the tornado was about to cross 20 or had somehow noticed that something was coming. He watched as a herd of cars, followed by a trio of semis, flew past them, rocking the truck and spraying up the mist. From a distance, two more trucks and a car were coming up; after that, there was a small gap in how close the headlights were together.

"When I say…" He gripped tightly onto his turret controls, watching like a sniper about to take the shot of his life as the trucks roared towards them. Seeing the convoy, one truck steadily merged into the passing lane while the car sped by the open gap. "Gun it!"

Spinning the wheel sharp left, Ronnie smashed her shoe halfway down on the gas; Storm Shrieker roared as it raced across the highway mere feet from behind where the last semi had just been. The four of them held on tightly as the driver's side of the truck sent into the wet grass on the other side, as Ronnie kept the wheel at an angle to try to keep them mostly on the road.

"Jesus!" Clyde shouted as he tried to hold onto the frame and his camera.

Lincoln spun around to look out one of the smaller rear windows that formed the sides of his turret, watching as the trees in the median flew past them. He could see the clearing coming up fast and braced himself, "Right here! Hard turn!"

"GaaaaAAAHHHH!" Ronnie yelled as she turned the wheel hard over.

The tank suddenly plunged down into the ditch as mud and water went flying everywhere; the rear tires especially chewed through the grass to get the truck back around. Inside, everyone suddenly felt whipped to one side when the front wheels entered the ditch's lowest point. Anything loose flew across the cab as it rocketed up the embankment onto the westbound highway. Thanking his foresight to remember actually to put on the helmet, Lincoln felt himself wobble as the gyroscope in his turret kept the metal doom on a mostly level plain when the vehicle was titled in all sorts of angles. But not once did he turn away his camera from the approaching funnel.

Following just behind them, KnightTwo came flying through the same path as Rex made a much broader turn at a lower speed to avoid causing any trouble. As they, too, got back on the pavement, the trio inside watched as the flashing lights of Shrieker accelerated down the highway with a trail of mud in its wake.

Ahead of them, towering over the eastbound, the white funnel of the tornado hovered above the highway as a rich brown debris cloud of dirt, trees, and whatever loose material it could pick up wrapped around the base of the funnel, twisting upwards. To Rex, it reminded him a lot of what the Three Hills tornado from eight years ago looked like.

"There it is!" Shay yelled as she brought her camera up as Rex floored it to catch up to the tank.

["It's crossing the road!"] Daniel yelled as they passed KnightOne.

In Shrieker, the adrenaline everyone felt flowing through their veins intensified by the second. While this wasn't their first tornado together (well, maybe for the cameraman freaking out a bit), it was still a sight to behold as the dark wall of the vortex began to overtake the westbound.

"HERE WE GO!" Ronnie shouted as she hit the brakes. All ten wheels locked and skidded across the wet pavement as she brought them to an abrupt halt on the shoulder at an angle to where the front end pointed more into the right lane.

The rapidly flashing amber lights suddenly switched to a deep pulsing red color as, within seconds, the dark wall of the tornado crossed the median. A swarm of dirt and debris flew across the road like a miniature sandstorm in the eye of a hurricane only a mere 100 yards across as they felt the winds buffet against the driver's side of the armor. Sticks and rocks pinging off steel and reinforced glass like rubber bullets than lethal projectiles. Barely anything to even begin chipping away the paint.

"Ears popping!" Lincoln said as the low pressure inside the eye came into effect. To whom it was hard to tell. With his turret open, he, his camera, and possibly the poor cameraman behind them were getting bombarded by the wind and rain flying into the vehicle. Soaking the part of his face and hair not obscured by the camera and helmet, everyone could still hear each other, but the sheer sound of what felt like you were standing next to a jet engine ramping up.

But a little dirt and rain did very little to deter him from where he was. With one hand on his camera, he used the other to reach up to one of the electrical controls of the turret that used a motor in the bearing ring to ever slowly rotate the rig. It was mainly for when he was sitting in the folded chair not to have the ability to hand rotate, but it helped even when doing so by letting him have a much smoother tracking shot without abrupt stop and goes he would physically make to adjust.

["Shrieker, what's your wind speeds?"] Rex asked over the roar.

"Winds are holding about 100 plus," Clyde called out, watching the gauge on the dashboard just above the radio flicking between the mid-80s to low 100s in hues of greens. Connected to the rear-mounted mesonet, a pair of ultrasonic anemometers, and a miniature man-portable radar, they bolted like hell onto a steel pipe.

It didn't exactly function like the giant dish on the Dow or even smaller units you'd see news stations put on custom trucks. Being the size of a 21x Rubik's cube, its range was laughably pathetic. They had to be, at minimum, a football field away from the tornado to start getting an accurate wind reading. Mainly serving as the device to tell them 'you are about to be hit by X-level winds; decide your fate now' for them to either run or deploy. And that was when it could even scan without trees and buildings blocking it when it was only just over ten feet off the ground.

Here, it was to see how strong the wind they were now in the heart of was. Anything around 110 and lower, they didn't bother deploying. Sheer weight and stance alone made it hard to tip them over. By 140, they'd deploy the shields to block off the wind gaps. Anything higher and the spikes will be extended and shot down.

In a situation like this, where the storm was upon you in seconds, the time it took for your mind to register what was about to happen and what you could do could feel like a blink of an eye to eternity. Either you get out of the way or hang on and pray.

But it was like sitting in the afternoon breeze for a beast like Storm Shrieker. From the second wind touching metal, it could have felt like an hour when not even a full minute later, the back side of the twister passed over. The wind came straight at them like a car wash from hell illuminated by the headlights as anything flying up and over the windshield came flying up at the turret. The sound and the wind gauge rapidly began to drop as the vortex continued on, chewing its way through the foliage to their right.

Keeping watch the whole time through his own camera, Clyde followed it till it vanished from sight. "It's to our north now." He said, putting his camera down and peeling his goggles off.

Snapping the hatch closed, Lincoln pulled away from his camera half-soaked but smiling brightly as he had just won a prize. "Hahaha! Beautiful! She might have been quick and dirty but was a keeper."

"First one for the year, boys!" Ronnie cheered as she pounded on the steering wheel. With their blood running high, everyone in the tank smiled like they had just won a long-fought game. This would be the point for most chasers to call in a day and celebrate early season success.

But not them. The day was still 'young,' and there was plenty of time to increase that score.

As KnightTwo rolled up behind with westbound traffic beginning to flow again, Lincoln called in through his headset, "Shrieker to K-Two, any chance we can turn around and catch this again?"

There was a moment of silence before a reply from Shay came through ["Lincoln, I don't think we're gonna get much more out of this cell even if we get back ahead of it."]

There was a brief moment of static before he heard Rex add, ["I agree with Edison. Vortex is already dissolving, and the storm is starting to lose a lot of its rotation."]

Frowning at the news, Lincoln stood back up to look out the hatch, clearly able to still see the tornado. Only the funnel itself was more like a noodle than the large nub it was just a minute ago. A lot of the dirt cloud was beginning to expand and fall back to either side, as even with the trees he could see, almost nothing was on the ground anymore.

"Copy… it's gone." He replied with disappointment in his voice. It was a bit disheartening when you got your first success, and the gut instinct was to go after it and do it again and again as many times as possible, only to see it disappear from the world.

But he couldn't complain about the outcome. It wasn't the grandest shots of a tornado he's ever gotten. Between them being out of position, doing one heck of a u-turn, and being impossible to see through all the rain, the shot itself was fast and loaded. From all the cameras around the tank inside and out, along with his, they probably got a solid four thousand dollars worth of footage, photos, and audio. That tornado alone, just without the licensing, would pay for their expenses for the next week.

With a sigh, Lincoln powered down his camera. Preparing to dismount it to give it a quick clean-up, the moment he went to unlock the clamp, all eyes turned towards the laptop up front.

"What'd we got?" Ronnie asked with eagerness in her voice as she leaned over.

Grabbing the radio, Clyde leaned to the side as Lincoln joined in, "Heads up to everyone; new tornado warning to the storm directly to our south approaching Oakland."

["Yeah, checking the readings, that thing might be why our storm is dying off. Might be our next play if we can get down there in time."]

"Alright," Lincoln patted the back of their seats, "Clyde."

"On it." He minimized the radar screen and pulled up a map. Faster than anyone could respond, Clyde spoke of his battle plan, "Alright people, anyone on the westbound, turn back around and head back east. We'll get off Exit 33 and blast down 157 towards Oakland. Copy that?"

["KnightOne, copy."]

["KnightTwo, copy. Moving back to the median."]

Behind them, the black Chevy quickly sped around the tank and onto the shoulder as it went ahead to get back through the grass. Waiting for just a second, Shrieker followed a bit further back, but this time as both dove down into the torn grass and mud it wasn't as violent as when they did it the first time. KnightOne and the Calvary were already starting to get back on the road as KnightTwo passed them. As the tank passed and merged back into the right lane, the convoy of vehicles quickly sped up to stay with the group.

As they began to get back into more heavy rain, shutting the hatch, he titled his camera back to the position where he would place it to film straight up into the air. Climbing down to where he kept his camera's supply bag, he procured a rag that had seen better days as he looked back to the cameraman, who looked visibly shaken like he had just experienced a nightmare.

"Don't worry; you eventually get used to it the more times you get closer to more violent things. " Lincoln assured him as he went to wipe down the camera.

Though he tried to pass it off as being calm, Lincoln was far from calm. His dopamine factory was in full production right now, and he was about ready to bounce in his seat. One tornado like that was nice, but he felt that this day had yet to give them the big shot.

A few miles down the highway and going down the offramp at questionable speed, the convoy blazed past a Pilot truck stop and down road 157. Heading in the opposite direction of the rain, the downpour intensified for a few miles before it faded into a more steady fall. They were all collectively happy that the hail core had missed them to their north, and now, with the southern storm above them coming towards them, they were close to completing a hook slice.

Yet it seemed nature was being kind to them now; as they rolled across a set of train tracks, the rain steadily gave way to a mesmerizing sight of the mesocyclone of the storm before them. Almost like the scene from Independence Day before the city destroyer spaceships revealed themselves from the fiery clouds, the mass before them wasn't nearly the most organized structure that they had seen before.

But it was big. And even through all the trees, they could see it had a large wall cloud already hanging low below. It was a bit hard to see if anything was forming or on the ground. Tornado warnings meant that either there was a funnel and it was on the ground or that the storm was in a state that, at any moment, could drop something. They were barely keeping up with KnightTwo as Rex pushed themselves further up the road to get a better look at the storm.

They could see the world around them fight a balance between what sunlight could punch through or around the edges of the clouds to the storm, almost forcing an early night. They were on a collision course with something that would set the flavor of this whole season. Lincoln knew that today was going to be a nice payday after they called it; they got the downpayment, but now it was time for the lump sum.

Finishing his wipedown, he locked the camera back into position. With time on their side (even if it wasn't much) and the storm more visible, he felt in himself that he could focus more on getting the best shot than acting like another backseat driver. Folding down the seat, it took up a considerable amount of space in the turret, where you had to pull yourself up in order to sit down without hitting your head off the roof. In this position, he just had to lean forward if he wanted to keep his eye on the viewfinder or sit back. Arms out on either side to hold on or comfortably reach the motor controls as he focused on the monitor.

"Might wanna buckle in," he said to the cameraman as he pulled himself into position, "In the next 10 minutes is about to get chaotic." He threaded his arm through a loop of the seatbelt and pulled it across. Locking it into place as he stuck his other arm into another loop and pulled it cover to connect to his waist buckle.

Tightening each strap to where he was secured in the case of any sudden stops but comfortable, he let out a low breath as he pulled back the lever to open the hatch again. While it would be considered a waste of memory space filming so early, and part of it would most likely get deleted when he goes to edit it, it was better to start rolling early and not miss anything than to get something and miss an opportunity.

As they rounded a curve through a small housing community, it was clear to everyone as they were, but a mere two miles away from Oakland did they see that the storm was a lot more organized. If Lincoln had to guess, the wall cloud had to be at least a mile wide in of itself, with parts of a tail cloud just barely visible. The clouds had become a much darker gray, almost black color, the closer they got with a bolt of lightning off in the distance.

["Lincoln."] Rex's voice came from his headphones.

"Rex, how far up are you? We can barely see you anymore." Lincoln said as he leaned forward, trying to see faint flashing lights he thought were KnightTwo up the road.

["We're just before the Exxon. And it's a big one."]

"What do you mean- woah!" he felt himself almost pull out of the harness as he tried to practically stick his head out of the turret, "Large tornado forming directly in front of us!"

Almost immediately, the radio started blowing up. Voices from the group and anyone else listening in to the public channels or following behind the convoy all responded to the sight of the large bowl-shaped funnel that was nearly halfway toward the ground. A dirt cloud nearly twice its size was already spinning around the outer circulation, becoming as dark as the funnel itself.

"There's debris in the air!" Clyde shouted as he pulled his camera back out. The mere moment he hit record, far in the distance, bright flashes of whites and blues flickered like miniature suns that lasted but a second. "We got power flashes!"

"This is gonna be a strong one," Ronnie noted as the storm was getting loaded with whatever it could chew on. Glancing at the wind gauge, the radar wasn't close enough to get any wind readings yet, but just from seeing how large it was from just a few miles away, it was about to get very interesting and exciting.

"Rex, is our road clear straight through?"

["Lincoln, this thing's already crossing 157 right now."]

"Crap. Do we have any east roads that we can take?"

"Johnson Koran Road, it goes east then down southeast," Clyde quickly answered, looking over his shoulder.

["That's right at our intersection."]

"Rex, get out ahead of it as fast as you can and find us a spot. We're going to end up doing a forest intercept with this thing." Lincoln snapped his attention briefly away from the microphone as another power flash blew across the road.

At this point, there was little he could do. They had a route, and it was now all in the hands of them getting into position in time. They had a tornado he had to guess was possibly a quarter to half a mile wide at its widest. The funnel itself spun like a top in the sky with brief moments of it fully condensing a solid funnel to touch the ground, only for it to fizzle out and separate into multiple suction vortices that danced around the inner vortex, either condensing into part of another funnel, only to divide again or to be wiped around the outside and fade away completely. For a brief moment, he could see horizontal vortices, parts of the tornado level off with the ground extending out from the edge of the funnel like a newly formed tentacle from a monster.

This was a strong one, and he knew they had to be careful with something as chaotic as this. When they're either a small rope or a wedge, most tornadoes are easier to keep watch on when the funnel is fully condensed and you have a clear view of the base. Things like multi-vortex tornadoes were almost far more dangerous in every way with how they act. The funnel could disappear, but the rotating air below it could still be present and suddenly condense. The sub-vortices inside it alone could be moving at over 100 miles per hour across the ground with winds far higher than what the main tornado could have. It's often what resulted in the wive's tale of three houses being hit by a tornado; two are barely touched while the other is completely gone.

Put a 150, 200, maybe 300mph wind inside two to four of them, traveling in a circle over 100mph when the storm is moving at 40, appearing within seconds and fading just as fast as it could spin up a new one. They were the types of twisters that history had told people to keep their distance or risk being caught. But it was such raw chaos that Lincoln lived for. Even from the distance they were at, he could see the motion as new funnels either spun up from below the treeline or materialized out of thin air. A storm from afar looks like something that belongs in an alien world.

But up close? It truly was like you were next to a living creature. Something foreign that was hard to fathom but yet was more native to this planet long before the first man even walked.

Though his view of the storm was getting closer, as soon as they made the left turn and passed the gas station, they were once again surrounded by trees racing down the road that would lead to intercept.

"Welcome back to the jungle, guys." He said as the tank sped down the straightway until the road began to become more winding.

Through brief patches of forest could see exactly where the tornado was; it wasn't like cat and mouse but more like infantry with an anti-tank mine trying to get ahead of an enemy convoy to plant the trap. Opening the hatch and tilting the camera upward, it was a bit of a dizzying sight as it barely captured the tops of trees as he filmed the sky. Chunks of the wall cloud hanging low and moving around above them as in a clearing with more houses, they got another view as they approached.

"Rex, what's our distance?" He heard Clyde ask.

["It's an open clearing, but you won't like it. You're a half mile behind us now."]

"Copy."

Half a mile. At the speed they were going, they would be there in moments. How far that put the tornado from where Rex found to be their questionable deployment spot was a guess that was soon to have answered. Coming around another row of trees, they got a clear view of KnightTwo parked in a gravel turnaround area.

Next to a gas facility with tanks and pipes around the place. An utterly fantastic place to try and get into a tornado.

"Rex, you gotta be joking. Here?" Ronnie groaned as Shrieker whipped into the area. Pulling up alongside the truck as the others held back further up the road. Rex was standing on the edge of the running board with his door open and hat off. Looking to their southeast they could see there were no more vortices. Not even a funnel.

Popping her door open as it banged off the side, Ronnie asked, "Where is it?" stepping up to do the same as Rex to try and see where the tornado was.

["Did that thing really just die?"] Daniel called.

At that point, Clyde opened his door, looking up at the underside of the wall cloud. The area where the multi-vortex was once was not devoid of any sign of the rotation tightening up. Looking back to his computer to the velocity radar, the couplet still showed a strong rotation directly on top of them.

"It should be right in front of- Wind's are picking up!" He shouted as he saw the wind gauge spike from the low 20s to the high 50s. All around, the dust was beginning to kick back up, with trees swaying heavily.

"HEY!" Lincoln cried out, "New area of rotation right above us!"

Everyone snapped their attention directly overhead, where a twisting knot was curling above them like a monster's maw, ready to devour them.

"Rex, start getting south, now!" Lincoln shouted out the turret as he panned it around the area. The Texan could already feel that where they were was not a good spot and quickly jumped back into his vehicle.

"RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE!" Ronnie shouted in alarm, pointing to their north to their 11 o'clock.

Training his turret around, Lincoln was greeted by the sight of a smaller but much more erratic set of suction vortices that looked like only the bottom fourth of the tornado was on the ground. Each one was a more rough brown color as they sent chunks of trees flying everywhere with dirt all around them screaming across the road into the larger vortex.

"It's caught in the old rotation!" Clyde exclaimed as he ducked back inside.

"SHUT THE DOORS!" Ronnie yelled in fear as she yanked hers closed with a violent bang and shoved the massive lock in place.

KnightTwo didn't wait for a second more as Rex sent the Chevy flying back the way they came. Common sense would say to blast southeast to be perpendicular to the tornado, but this situation had become where going back northwest would be safer. The storm was undergoing a hand-off, where the old rotation from the previous tornado would die off and become absorbed by the new dominant rotation. Because of the strength of both, even with one losing its energy to the other, being so close to each other in the same storm was making the old circulation become slingshot north above them as the new one was dragged southward towards them.

In the simplest of ways, two tornadoes were practically merging right on top of them. And like with the sub-vortices, the combined winds from both were feeding into the effects of accelerating as the whole area became a twisting dust storm. Power flashes to their right from powerlines, becoming snapped in half from the sheer force of the wind changing multiple directions with dozens of trees already collapsing.

Even though it weighed over 18,000 pounds, Storm Shrieker was beginning to rock from the force of the wind constantly coming from either direction. Clean air was strong for itself but had nothing to give it mass, and it had a lot more force to its power.

*BAM*

Everyone jumped when chunks of a blue storage building exploded and came flying at them, Slamming into the vehicle as it slid across the armor in a brief shower of sparks from the impact that disappeared with what remained of the building.

"Jesus! We're taking hits!" Clyde shouted in some panic as more debris flew around them.

"LOCK IT DOWN!" Lincoln shouted with every ounce of power in his lungs for the others to hear him over the ungodly roar around them.

With years of practice and doing it nearly a hundred times, Clyde quickly went to the switchboard and started running the deployment cycle. A hiss reverberated from below the tank as the swarm of hydraulics pressurized. Around the vehicle, any of the flashing yellow lights went dark for a moment as they began to pulse red as from below the body on both sides and ends, several panels began to fold out from the underbody on extended hinges.

Though not like other vehicles that used flaps as part of their system, the shields themselves were just small enough that once they were in position, they provided enough blockage to prevent wind from getting underneath. Thick slabs of treated rubber running along the edges further sealed the gaps between the ground, the edge of the body, and from behind the wheels to plug up as many smaller openings as possible.

Then, an even sharper hiss rang out. From just below the doors along the sides, the closed outriggers began to fold outward like a pair of arms on each side. Swinging out to where each arm was almost in front of the closest wheel, the towers rose to stand straight up with little red beacons at the top. Titling further to point their spikes were aimed inward towards the truck as the inner arm began to extend further.

From the cameras mounted around the vehicles, four by each set of wheels, the outriggers reached their fullest extent. Like a barrage of guns and with hydraulic lines tensing, one by one, each three-foot rod slammed themselves into the ground. Red-tipped ends pierced the packed gravel and dirt with little effort as the vehicle jerked slightly upward from the counteracting force. Another camera on the fender facing the back of the vehicle was able to have Clyde in the frame, just barely visible in the rain-covered windows. For but a brief moment when he pointed his camera out, a suction vortice came ripping out from behind the tank, shredding the treeline. Hovering over part of the road as whole chunks of timber were snapped in half like balsa wood in a wood chipper.

"A tree just blew up behind us!" he shouted, trying to lean forward so he could get his camera facing backward.

The vortice raced across the field of pipes as a fence surrounding the property had sections become obliterated from chunks of trees becoming entangled in the chain links to the point the wind itself ripped the steel posts down. The funnel disappeared before it could impact them directly, but the swarm of debris it had flying through the air made sure to introduce itself as branches big enough to knock cars off the road slammed into the passenger side.

"OH!" Lincoln shouted in surprise as a land chunk of tree slammed into the wall armor just below his turret. Part of it hit directly on part of the frame and window as he turned to film it, only to have a wave of splinters fly past the camera.

Looking away from his camera as he turned the turret to face away and keep debris from entering, he brought a hand up to where a brown smear now resided on the window. In any situation that had that been ordinary glass, he had little doubt he would be dead right now, either from being impaled or the force of it crushing him. But against his creation, the only negative was a dirty window to clean later and maybe some scratched paint.

"Lots of debris in this!" he panned his turret back north. Catching the moment as another vortice raced through the field behind the facility, blowing out another power flash from the lines as it crossed the road less than 50 years in front of them and drilled back into the forest.

"THIS THING IS OUT OF CONTROL!" Ronnie screamed out as she tried to sit as far back in and low in her seat as possible.

"Stay low and hang on! Funnel is right on top of us!" Titling back again, Lincoln's camera watched on as the tornado spun around them. Everyone could feel their ears popping from the stronger low pressure than the last tornado with a much wider surface on the ground itself.

Some vortices briefly tried forming, but he could clearly see where the 'eye' was now that a more condensed funnel was materializing to their left. The wind around them was less with the rotation and more like straight-line winds as horizontal rain began to overtake them.

"We're clear! We're in the RFD now." Clyde announced as he pulled himself up from his seat. He knew they weren't out of the woods just yet; the RFD, rear flank downdraft, part of the storm that helps a tornado form, can often have wind gusts inside of nearly as strong as the tornado itself.

But this itself didn't last long. Winds over 100 moving at 40 plus, they got a brief car wash before the rain fizzled out as the storm marched its way north away from them. Though debris still floated down from the sky, the danger had passed.

"Alright, let's undeploy." Lincoln ordered as he shut the hatch and unbuckled himself. Though his ears rang from the pressure readjusting, and he was shaking a little like someone held a weed wacker for too long, the smile on his face was bright enough to outdo the sun at that very moment.

That was what he lived for. You feel your heart racing in moments like these where all hell is around you. It just makes you feel more alive than ever.

"Damn! What a ride!" he could not hold back his joy anymore as he laughed. The others soon joined as the moment to enjoy the building excitement for the day had finally come.

"Hahaha! Storm Shrieker scores another!" Ronnie shouted, honking the horn as lights from behind them started appearing.

Leaning back with a smile, Clyde asked, "Lincoln, how much do you think that can go for?"

"That?" he asked as he unbuckled his helmet, "Easily 15, maybe 20. Hell could be 25, maybe."

Clyde laughed as he clapped, "Haha! Nice!"

As he and Ronnie waited to open their doors once the outriggers finished retracting, Lincoln slid him out of his turret and plopped onto the floor. Leaning against the cold metal wall that felt even more frosty from his wet clothes, he pulled his helmet off—resting it off to the side as he combed his hand through his matted, down-soaked hair to return it to some semblance of normal. Closing his eyes as he leaned his back, he let the excitement still fester within, but the adrenaline was beginning to fade.

Six minutes. This whole week before what just happened had been leading up to six minutes' worth of pure chaos. But he honestly wasn't going to complain about the results. Day one of the new season, and they already had two intercepts within just an hour of each other from two fast-moving storms that, at times, they couldn't see where it was on two wildly different tornadoes. The first one would definitely get a good penny out of it, but not much.

This intercept, however, was the real money maker. That tornado alone, from the moment it appeared in the frame to whenever it was about to die off and vanish in the distance, he hadn't stopped recording it for a nanosecond. That and maybe one or two more could cover their operating costs all the way to September with everything else channeling into their projects, the Foundation, and wallets.

Had the storm been over a more favorable road network, a lot less rain, and moving a bit slower, there was a chance they could get back out ahead of it again and get a second hit off the same vortex. But that was something he had to live with; Shrieker was built to close the gap and lockdown at nearly the last second. It might take 30 seconds to send steel rods into the ground, but it took a lot longer to pull them back out. A little downside, but one that hasn't resulted in anything bad happening. It's better to stay locked in place than to have them just freely slide out of the dirt.

"What a day…" he said to himself. For a moment, he heard the sound of splintering wood and vehicles coming up beside them. He heard a clamor of doors opening and closing as he heard Rex and Clyde talking just outside.

"What was the wind in that thing?"

"Radar said it peaked near 143. Don't know for sure if that was itself or one of the vortices."

"Probably EF3 from how much of this forest it ate."

"What do you think they'll consider that as? One single or two? Rotation formed literally right next to it."

"Might be considered as two. That new one could have been a satellite trying to form and had the rotation get pulled in. Where's the captain?"

There was a pause in the noise till he heard tapping on the window, "You good in there, Link?"

Opening an eye to see his crew gathered on the driver's side with faces of joy, he held up a thumbs up as he twisted to climb out the back door. Pulling back the bolt and using his shoulder, the hatch flopped onto its side as he stepped out of the vehicle for the first time in nearly three hours. Feeling the rain-cooled air blowing into his face and hair. Out to the west, the sun's orange glow began to wash over the battered landscape in its warmth.

Stepping out onto the rear bumper, Lincoln accepted his fate and stepped forward. Crouching down so that he sat on the edge of the wet steel and plucking a piece of tree stuck on the back winch.

"Now, next order of business." He announced, trying to look professional. But the smile breaking through destroyed that appearance. "Whose turn is it to pick a good hotel this time?"

A round of laughter came from everyone as a few voiced ideas or declared themselves Not It. They'd need to get a look at tomorrow's forecast to see if they'll have to drive through the night to their new target area or head home. They'll think of a plan once they start heading back to Shreveport. For now, they collectively agreed to call in the day.

As the group dispersed back to their vehicles, Lincoln went to crawl back into the cab before he paused. A thought washed over him as he reached down to pull his wallet out. Finishing out an old photo that had seen far better days, the image itself had creases running everywhere on the edges. But the middle was untouched. A bit worn over the years but still full of every detail he made sure wasn't ruined.

It was an old family photo from roughly seven years ago. Taken just after his 13th birthday, after he had gotten his first real camera as a gift. It was the very first photo he took with it. His giant family gathered around in their usual order, just without him in the center.

All of them show signs of puberty and maturing, like Lori and Leni being as tall as their mom, with Luna among the ranks of joining them in adulthood. Lynn was nearly as tall as Luan was years prior with a lot of visible muscle, while the comedian next to her had lost her braces and traded her bright yellow outfit for something more slick but still kept the toy flower pinned on.

Lucy, from what he remembered, was just a pinch under Lynn, with her hair and black dress both growing longer. The twins, it wasn't hard to tell Lana was about to go up like a weed pretty soon, with the difference between her and Lola being as big as Lucy and Lynn were. Lisa was starting to really grow. Seven years old, and she was taller than the twins were at that age. And Lily, oh, how much it truly surprised him how much his little Lilybug was growing before his eyes. He had wondered if this feeling was what his dad felt watching his children grow up. He had been by her side whenever she needed him, practically raising her at times. If he were any older, he wouldn't be surprised if someone said he acted more like a second father than a big brother to her.

He was there for them all, no matter what. Even if he was a thousand, two thousand, five thousand plus across the oceans, he couldn't be there to hold their hand anymore, but he damn well knew he could be there to make sure they made it through no matter what.

'This year will be a good one. I can feel it.' he promised himself as he placed a gentle kiss on the photo. Picking no favorite spot so as to give equality to all, he placed the photo back in its secured spot.

Shoving his wallet back in place, he rolled on his bum to swing his legs back into the cab. The convoy was already starting to filter back onto the road, avoiding debris as he could feel the tank shift back as Ronnie slowly inched forward. With the help of the momentum, he grabbed onto the handle and closed the door. Resting it on his shoulder so as not to let it utterly smash itself closed, he locked the bolt back in place.

With all hatches secured, Ronnie eased the tank back onto the pavement with a little mind of running over some branches thinking against the underside. Clyde was occupying himself by downloading the memory from his camera to the computer, and the cameraman beside him looked like he had already passed out. Moving in to take his seat, he reclined as he sunk into the chair. He let out a satisfied sigh as he watched the damaged forest disappear and be replaced by the one untouched.

This would be a long year, but he felt he was more ready than ever for what nature could throw at him.

---

(Note: These AN notes are written before, during, and after hand to convey my thinking. Not based on what's changed, reviews, etc., and is borderline me ranting out loud my way of thinking.)

So recently, Season 7 of the series ended with 8 episodes and 20 segments. With the latter half of the season having the family go on a summer road trip for Rita to write traveling articles. The episodes had the family go from Detroit to Niagara Falls, Washington DC, clear across to the Rock Mountains, a State Fair, all across Route 66, Los Angeles and clear across back to Chicago/Great Lakes City

In the grand scheme of things, this order confused the hell out of me and got me thinking.

Back in chapter 1-3 I noted this story takes place mainly post-Season 6, though after seeing what this season has brought, I can say it is Canon with this story and actually gives me more material to work with.

The confusion stems from just about halfway through. When they go from almost the Atlantic Ocean all the way to either Colorado or Utah. I know cartoons don't really have time logic unless necessary to the plot (and Lisa added rockets to a giant camper) but in the 'realistic' world that this story has this wouldn't be possible. So in my headcanon, they actually go: Niagara Falls, DC, back home, Great Lakes, the State Fair, Route 66, Utah/Colorado, then California to make it more linear.

And then there's what this gives me to work with.

The Roadtrip arch basically further confirms things like curses are real in the universe and can have large-reaching effects on others when focusing on just one person of interest. Because reading through the plot honestly made me think this was close to becoming a Bad Luck Incident Number 2 with how the family found it was Lincoln's fault for causing all the 'unfortunate accidents' with the ring.

Another is exposure. Between a nationwide road trip to storm chasing, Lincoln is getting a lot of travel miles early which does help him in the future for having the mentality to drive hundreds of miles a day like it's just a weekend trip to the beach. And they are visiting dozens to hundreds of scenic locations. Not to mention crossing through Tornado Alley itself in early summer.

Lisa's notes commented that Lincoln started going weather crazy around the time 'Glori Days' takes place (which could have been before this summer trip) so this road trip itself is only adding massive amounts of fuel to the fire that gives Lincoln more to think of what his future could become as we see now.

Quite frankly, I am tempted to write a spin-off story that acts as the prequel to this one. Involving everything that's happened since that last day of NSL to Kingman and all that's happened in between. Though for now, I am staying focused on this story till completion.

One thing that I'm a bit bummed with is that you can't post an image in text, as the idea of drawing out the complete floor plan of the farmhouse had been in my mind since I found a rough idea of what the outside looked like.

An ironic twist I noticed when writing Clyde's little internal battle about seeing Shay (and if the pairing isn't obvious here it is now) is that with the present situation between Ronnie and Lincoln to past events, I found it ironic that in some to most stories involving the Loudcest route, despite them having even a friends based relationship the two are often split apart when it seemed like they really were to be together. I first noticed this when reading the story 'Without Sin: All-Star Edition' where a Lincoln from another universe (actually a timeline) had now accomplished destroying his relationship with her twice and asked if he was cursed never to be together.

A kind of ironic curse, eh?

For the other half of this chapter, a lot of this seems to be more about waiting and that it takes a while for the real action to begin and even ends abruptly. This is the reality of storm chasing, where so much of the time is focused on the waiting game that it's building up the excitement for when the action really does happen. Often summarized as "95 percent boredom and 4 percent pure adrenaline rush."

The tornadoes in this are based more on weather systems of embedded supercells, where they are part of a larger group of storms in a squall line that follows a boundary path and is often loaded with rain. The two tornadoes themselves are inspired by real storms; with the 'Interstate Intercept' being based on the Three Hills, Alberta, Canada event from June 2, 2017 (also famous from the Lawnmower Man meme.) And the Johnson Koran tornado based on the early stages of the Edinburg, Illinois, tornado on August 6, 2023. I do recommend watching a few youtube videos of both events to get a better visual idea of exactly what they were seeing in this story. The scenario itself is based on two episodes from the show Storm Chasers, mainly Season 2 episode 'No Place Like Kansas' and Season 5's 'Reeds Redemption.'

Many things in this chapter and the story onwards are based on real-world situations, weather, programs, people, objects, and events. Googling any of it will help better understand just how hectic the world could be. (I mean, try to think what is a Ka-Band radar truck?)

At the time of this sentence being written (August 1, 5:24 AM), work on Chapters 12 and 13 has already gotten a foothold, with 12 having the most in terms of where the direction is mainly to get to the next destination for everyone. At the current rate, I hope to release both it and 13 back to back in what I call 'The Unfortunate Day' that connects directly with each other maybe by the end second half of September or early October, if things good steady. With us reaching Chapter 16 by the end of the year. (Damn I started writing this literally back in January and here we are.)

Right now I plan to let this cook before I release chapter 11.

(Note: These AN notes are written before, during, and after hand to convey my thinking. Not based on what's changed, reviews, etc., and is borderline me ranting out loud my way of thinking.)