Sins In Twisters Chapter 29: Can't Stop Chasing That Devil, a loud house fanfic

Sins In Twisters

Chapter 29: Can't Stop Chasing That Devil

At the flick of a switch and twist of a knob, the room became filled with the sound of the overhead lights buzzing and the faucet pouring out into the tub. The latter drowned out the latter as Sam put a hand under the water to test the temperature as moderately cold, slowly warming.

Placing her towels to the side of the sink, she stood there, looking at herself in a tri-folded mirror that gave her the tiniest of different angles for her eyes to linger over. Staring straight ahead or off to the side, she felt it was the same. Under the bathroom light, she could see herself a bit more than she had before.

She felt grimy in those two days without a shower for anyone would feel. Yesterday's panic hadn't helped in working up a sweat, and being so rain-soaked for so long hadn't done much help either. While she was cleaned up at the hospital, it was mainly to get that initial layer off as they worked and changed her.

Now, it was something that she looked back at, her frizzled hair and bags forming under her eyes from the rough sleep the day had provided her and her natural appearance without any makeup. She was a bit conflicted about that. Usually, she had it on a lot during the tour to keep up appearances. In her youth, it was just for touching up a thing or two, but naturally, she looked much brighter without it.

But Sam didn't dwell on that thought more than she needed to. As the steam began to fill up the room and fog up her reflection, it was the signal she needed to get moving. Dropping her panties to the floor and kicking them up to land on a pile forming in her hamper, trying to unlock her bra strap was becoming a chore in itself without the ability to use both hands. Cursing as she tried holding both sides together to unhook the clamp, she wished that someone else was here to help.

There was…, but in that forming, she was pretty sure she had broken the hook as she peeled it away and dropped it with everything else.

Pulling the curtain away and pulling the knob, the shower gurgled for a second as it erupted in a warm spray that felt like the sunrays from heaven were upon her. A moan echoed off the tiling as she tilted her head back, letting water flow over her lower face, shoulders, and chest. Feeling like a cold blanket was melting away every second, she stood there, turning around to ensure she got every inch needed. She ran a hand through her hair to make sure it was getting a proper soaking.

She needed this. It was like feeling the stress melt away and felt glorious. Lathering on some soap, she found her joy once more cracked at trying to get around her cast. Moving to her hair was a bit easier just using her limited hand to hold the bottle, but the annoyance that this was going to be the trend for the next month or two wasn't something she was remotely looking forward to.

Yet the warm water steadily washed those thoughts away…

… her eyes fluttered open like she was startled awake. She nearly fell over as her balance was briefly thrown off, and grabbing the curtains almost brought it down.

How long? It shouldn't have been that long. How did she pass out? It was like her thoughts literally disappeared into nothingness. The water was still running hot, but she didn't feel her skin burning. The room felt a lot more humid. Steam was so thick that as she peeked out from the side of the curtain, everything had a thick dampness.

Shaking her head to force out any thoughts that could send her back into Lalaland, she hastily shut the water and stepped out. Feeling the bathroom be more like a sauna stepping out, the warmth of the steam followed into her bedroom as the crisp, cool air clashed with it. Fogging up the windows as she switched on her overhead light, she was tempted to run back inside when that little cold breeze between the legs made her shiver for a second.

Yet opting to let herself drip dry momentarily, she reached for her nightstand, where her old phone sat dead to the world. Pulling open a tiny drawer underneath, she finished out an older phone and a charging cable. Plugging the cable in both ends, the screen flashed to life.

The perks of having a perfectly good spare phone, if not a little outdated, on hand, until you can get a replacement. Snatching a pair of nail clippers, she took her 'old' phone and started prying at the top edge.

Worming the filing hook into the little port to pop out the SIM card. Reaching for the charging one, she did the same and carefully dropped the tiny chip back into its slot.

With the little operation complete, she knew it'd be a minute before it was charged enough even to turn on after it cycled through its rebooting and updates. With that time in hand, she unwrapped the towel around her hair and began to shake vigorously until it was wetter than her head. With a flick, it flew across the room in a collapsing ball into another hamper as she got a look at her hairdo in the mirror.

She needed to touch up her signature teal streak, but patting down some parts, she found it surprising at times how much she looked like her younger self with longer but spiky hair. A playful smirk graced her lips at some ideas, but it faded away to a sense of familiarity.

Standing up to dry off and put on some fresh clothes, she went a bit simpler for the sake of her arm and not wanting to fight to get a bra back on. Opting for a thick black t-shirt with a 'bleeding' Smooch logo on the backside and a pair of sweatpants, she might not look exactly like someone hosting a guest would, but this was in the comforts of her home. She survived a twister; she was entitled to some self-comfort today. Plus, her guest wasn't a stranger.

Well… much of a stranger. 'Someone she once knew who is no longer that someone' kind of stranger…

Grabbing the phone, the reboot was complete, but at best, only an eight percent charge had been achieved. It was not much, but it was enough to make a call.

A very long overdue call….

Unlocking it with the numbers of their birthdays combined, she was greeted by a home screen of an old memory…

The two of them in a photo booth after a night of partying. A little messed up with dabs of glow-in-the-dark face paint and rings of glow sticks around their wrists and necks with a pink and green light illuminating the back. Both were smiling at the camera, and she had a glowing purple lip gloss similar to Luna's neon blue. And planted on their cheeks being pressed together were two matching kiss parts so close they could be kissing themselves.

Sam remembered that night vividly. She couldn't remember what city they were in; it was in the middle of Fall during a multi-day event where the band was a guest. During the final night, they went out with a band and partied like it was New Year 1999. They hopped over the city so much they were nearly broke by the time they got to the hotel. Having their own room, they took 'heavy' advantage of their privacy throughout the night.

A blush filled her cheeks as she thought back that night. So much was said and done that night that it felt like their relationship had taken a step closer to being solidified forever…

'Stay focused…' she reminded herself. This wasn't a call to reconnect or reignite an old flame. Maybe they could catch up on things when things settle down and see how this call goes. Perhaps she could run up and visit once she got a replacement car. Maybe for the holidays with family and take a side route to meet up with her girl face to face. But this was a call for someone else.

What she hoped to gain out of this, she wasn't sure. She didn't know if Luna had been in contact with her brother recently or knew what was up with him. Even a little bit of info she hadn't known about before could help try to build a picture for her.

Flicking into her contacts and another to scroll through a sea of numbers she wasn't sure if still valid or not, one labeled 'LunaLuv' with an older picture of the Loud in the bubble appeared before her of that ever famous 'rock out' pose from her teen years.

Hovering about the green phone icon, she pleaded not to, but second thoughts began to trickle in. What are the odds she'd answer, or this was still her number anymore? She didn't have much to lose and something to gain, but-

"Hello?" Sam jumped at a voice coming from the phone. Mentally slapping herself for not realizing her finger had fallen onto the button and that the call had gone through, she swallowed whatever anxiety she could and answered.

"Hey, Lunes…" She said slowly. Hoping that her jitteriness didn't come through, "It's… it's been a while…"

How she could feel the air change around her made her shiver more than the cold air made Sam think a ghost was suddenly on her shoulders. There was the sound of a gasp, voices too messy for her to make out words, and the sound of wind briefly blowing past the microphone until a loud slam echoed through. Checking to see if the call was still connected, Sam hesitantly brought it back to her ear and heard what sounded like muffled sniffling and a cough.

"S-Sam?" Luna's voice came through cracked. It didn't take Sam a second to realize the girl had been or was on the verge of crying after being there for her so many times. "I… I didn't recognize your number."

Right, she had switched it back in July for a new phone. She only had Luna's contact information after transferring them. "It's fine." She waved off, "I just… wanted to check in back home. Things have been… hectic, to say the least, down here. The weather has been a big pain in the ass this week…"

There was silence again. Sam could barely hear Luna's shallow breathing. It went quiet momentarily, something shifting in the background until she heard someone mumbling something.

"Luna? Ya still there?"

"Yeah…" She replied, fighting to keep talking, "Yeah, it's been…. It's been hell up here with it… How've you been?"

"I've... been busy, " she chuckled. I've Been on and off with things, but it's been pretty steady." She heard Luna weakly laugh. The awkward smile on her lips faded when Luna spoke through the phone; she sounded almost as tired as Lincoln. It made her more worried about what was going on at her end that had shaken her up so much.

"Listen, Luna, I…" Sam paused, trying to think of a better way to say, "I wanted to call and ask you about something regarding your brother."

The atmosphere in the room seemed to change again. Only it felt more like the light had dimmed, and a curse had been uttered just enough for its effects to take hold. She heard Luna suck in a deep breath. Sam could only imagine the sight of Luna looking like she was receiving the first news of someone's death.

"W-w-what about him?" Luna stuttered, trying to suppress tears and… anger? It was subtle, but she knew Luna too well not to notice.

"I… I wanted to know if you've heard from him recently?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Luna remarked coldly.

A bit taken aback by her mood, Sam felt it was more from emotional stress than actual hostility. "Well… with all this crazy weather and what he does, figure he'd be out around these parts."

"N-not much…" She sniffled, "We… had been trying to reach him. Find him… It's funny when the thing you've been looking for so much suddenly appears at the front door when you're not there…."

"That's- wait. He was back home?" Sam said, surprised. Was he in Royal Woods yesterday? How? That was a flat-out nine-hour drive, probably longer with all the weather.

When she saw him for the first time today, he looked like he had just woken up. Sleeping in a car might do that, but why didn't he get a hotel or something? A drive like that would be a pain for anyone in a single day and yet he got from their hometown to chasing around Nashville of all places as much as he did.

'What have you been up to, Lincoln?'

"Yesterday in the morning. He stopped by the house for something but drove off before we could reach him." Luna slowly explained, like recounting the events of a crime, "We… we tried to get him in town… Lynn chased him on foot, and Lisa got us ahead, but we… Our dad was able to meet him before he left, and then… it was okay until that fucking storm destroyed it all."

Sam winced at how Luna's words snapped between deplorable and venomous at the mention of a storm. "... what happened?" She regrettably asked.

"We had a tornado yesterday, Sam," Luna whispered, trying to hold back a sob but falling. "It went through town. Our… house is gone… It took the whole neighborhood. It was so big. It was like a monster. It-it..."

She couldn't hold it. The speaker crackled in the background, and Sam could barely hear her friend anymore after pulling the phone away. She tried to stay strong, but her nerves were falling apart, hearing her friend let her soul out. Pinching her eyes shut, she really wanted to be there with her. Give her that shoulder to cry on, that warmth in an embrace that would, even to the littlest amount, take some of her pain away.

Yet as she cried, Sam was taken aback even further when she heard bits of laughing coming from Luna, "It's ironic… isn't it? He's here to give us something to help, and all the world goes to shit…"

The irony, yes. But it wasn't something Sam found amusing enough to laugh about.

"Heh… mom, dad, Leni, Lucy… Lily… after what he's gone through, I wonder if Linc's still around…"

"Luna… he's here."

At those two words, Luna's cries rapidly ceased, "Don't say that…" she begged, "Please just… we couldn't reach him…"

"Luna," Sam firmly said, hoping the speaker conveyed the message well enough compared to being in person. "He's here. With me, right now. He's safe."

She choked on her sobs, "W-what?"

"Its… it's a long story. We had a storm down here, too, and… I got caught up in it. I'm fine, minus a broken arm and some cuts, but from what I know, Lincoln was storm chasing, and we crossed paths. He helped me get some help and went out to help others after the storm. He… brought me home from the hospital and is now tinkering with his stuff in my living room."

The feeling in the air changed again, and Sam honestly looked over her shoulder to see if anyone else was there.

From the other end of the line, there was dead silence. She checked the phone again to see if it was connected or dead. She heard shallow breathing coming through every few seconds, but it was like Luna had passed out on the other end.

"C-can I talk to him?" Luna stuttered. Less asking and more pleading.

Sam had thought about it. Had she made the call and gotten through after getting some information on his situation first, she wouldn't have expected to be presented with another like this.

Without it, she could have called again a little later, had him relax more, and maybe opened up that little bit more to get his side directly. From his reaction on the ride, she didn't know what his deal was, but because he was in Royal Woods before a big tornado hours after he left, she couldn't blame him for being shut in.

It felt too early… but Luna was practically falling apart right now. Sam had seen how the two saw comfort in each other before; maybe their talking could help- *BANG*

Sam jumped from her spot, feeling part of her home shake from something big falling.

"Huh?" She stood up, heading for her door.

"Sam?"

"Hold on a sec, Lunes. I gotta check something." She quickly said and opened the door. She took three steps down the hallway before the phone slipped from her hand to the floor.

"LINCOLN?!"

Lincoln bit his hands. He scratched the top, cracked each finger every way he could, flicked them out as hard as possible, or pounded them against a hard surface. Even with the room nearly tomb-silent with the air heavy enough to make anyone buckle, he was fighting the urge of so many other things. It was like a dozen different trains on parallel tracks converging into a single line. They were all speeding to the same points, and the closer they got, the less room there was. They slammed into each other, slowing everything down.

Thank whatever god was listening that he wasn't driving right now. His eyes felt so heavy and blurred that no matter how much he forced open his eyelids, he couldn't focus long enough before they burned too much.

He tried whacking himself upside his head in a vain attempt to snap out of it. He felt the sting that briefly brought his desired results, but it faded as fast as the storm of a headache that replaced it. The icy burn feeling from early felt even worse now. His throat was becoming dry as sand, yet he was sweating so much that he was becoming as soaked as he was in the rain yesterday.

But above all, he couldn't look away from the words on his computer. The images of the dark green skies, the sounding taken an hour before, the record hail size, and the radar loop of how it went tornadic within minutes of its updraft hitting a new peak. The damage path didn't even get 100 yards from the point of touchdown before it went from EF0 to EF2 damage. EF3 kicked in five miles into the path before intensifying further to low-end EF4 on its approach to Royal Woods.

The present track had it going mostly Eastward and slowly drifting east by northeast until it stalled over the northeast Ferndale neighborhood. Had it not stalled, it would have either tracked over the I-75 I-696 interchange and caused an utter nightmare for any traffic moving through or if it shifted a little bit south, it would go straight over 75 and then 696 into the southeastern portions of Madison Heights and completely bypass Royal Woods.

But what does it do? Stalled, the core does what's estimated as a three-block-wide loop and shifts northward straight towards town. His neighborhood was in the direct line of fire, and it would have craved its way straight through the entire east side of the city. And then, what does it do after all that? It makes another hard turn and sideswipes the southside, going far enough to reach his home and then mozzie in its original direction.

The corner of town bordered by the highways was the only place affected. Everywhere else had some wind hail damage, but it was still standing. Everything in that tiny chunk was just gone…

He tried refreshing the page by spamming the F5 key to see what new info had been added. A few things changed, and some sentences were redone to say the same thing and include more damaged details, but it wasn't enough.

He switched searches, trying and failing to type in the search 'Michigan F5 2025'. The page became flooded with links and articles about reports all around Detroit. Some only talked about Nashville or Evansville, while others were over 30 hours outdated. Though one would wonder what good it was going to the Images tab, he needed to know what the damage itself was.

Right off the bat was the lack of photos of the tornado itself. A repeat of the image from the report, another two as thumbnails to YouTube shorts, one of it destroying the Clarenceville High School and the other of someone in the 696 traffic jam when it entered Royal Woods. A fear he and many in the weather community had feared, a large and destructive rain-wrapped tornado so well hidden anyone would mistake it for a burst of heavy rain and wind. There weren't many good photos of the twister because of it, yet plenty of the supercell earlier that would spawn it.

And so many photos of the path…

One dated early this morning was from a helicopter tracking over the path. The fall weather had removed most of the green from the area, but the contrast in color and shape was enough to see where it went. Another photo showed a 14-story tower missing all its windows and gutted from the inside out. Adding Royal Woods to the search, it started small from streets blocked by fallen trees, a row of houses missing parts of their roofs, and a flipped car or two.

Then devastation.

Images that if you didn't tell anyone where they were taken, but they knew there was a big storm, they wouldn't be at fault, thinking this was from somewhere out west. No house in the direct path was left standing; ones you could call lucky to not get directly hit didn't fare any better. Lincoln tried to find any photo that could give him a reference of where it was taken to try to get a sense of how close they were.

Another link to an article followed someone following what they described as a rescue army of construction equipment. Riding in a car behind a bulldozer forcing its way to…

He clicked on the article so many times that his laptop froze. Prepared to rear back and punch the screen to get it to work again, it loaded onto a local news page he didn't recognize. It went about the writer's personal experience with the storm, but Lincoln skipped most of it. Going through the photos starting from the earlier set up, when the hail hit and them driving after the tornado had passed through.

They started into the damage a block before where his house was and followed a group east down Franklin Avenue—splitting off to another going south until they arrived at the all-out swarm of rescue vehicles surrounding what remained of Royal Woods Elementary. Hundreds converged on the surrounding grass and wind row houses. A crane was trying to lift a car off the roof, and a crowd of firemen gathered on a mound of rubble like ants cutting through a hole. Five photos later, they were pulling survivors out. Some were utterly untouched, carrying hurt or scared loved ones, soaked and dirty, being guided to waiting ambulances and family.

And then a few of them, taken back to back so closely you'd think they would be better off filming, had them ripping away concrete to widen the hole as a rescuer was pulled through carrying a child.

They are moving down the line. Closer and closer to the camera, blonde hair contrasted with the reflective light. Blood trailing down their arms and forehead, limp in the man's arms…

"L-Lily…?..." He choked. He felt tears falling from his eyes and onto his shaking hands.

He hadn't seen her since he left home, but he had seen her grow. In the photos his family posted on social media over the years it was his brief window to show how things had changed. Luna was probably the only exception in the few times he saw her, but seeing his older sisters become refined adults and the younger close behind really made him wonder how much time was passing by. It gave him that assurance a letter or phone call couldn't give. Proof that the days he wasn't there, they were living the best life they could.

His little Lilybug had grown so much in those few years… He was there for many of her firsts, and the ten of them had all gone through life before. That kind of assurance of being there for her in thick and thin whenever things looked down or not.

But he wasn't there for her during all this…

He wasn't there to protect her from the that followed and the devils he chased…

The burning feeling this whole time started to twist. It started small, like a pinch, but it exploded beyond where it came from. He tried reaching back to feel for the spot, but it felt like the scar on his back was infused with dark magic. Burning so intently, it went throughout his own body. It felt like fire was under his skin, sinking into his flesh and blood to the heart and bone.

He struggled to stand, left arm useless like it was either paralyzed or missing. Flopping over the coach's armrest, he felt his legs struggle to stand. Even moving enough to try to sit back down felt like all his energy was being drained like a breached dam. Lincoln tried to use his right arm to lift up, getting just enough that his body lurched forward in his attempt to lift off. Before he could catch himself, he collapsed into the dining room chairs. Head clipping the table edge, sending his blurred vision into seeing red and black.

Lincoln felt his whole body losing control. His hand clenched his chest, and his heart beat faster than a hundred guns on enemy lines. Each breath he took was sharp and dry, but each one felt like he was losing too much so fast.

He struggled to think. Think of anything. Think of calming himself, think of ignoring the phantom pain. Try to think of… Lily…

His family…

His friends… his home… their homes and lives… Swept away and torn apart by what everyone saw as a random act of mother nature.

No… No, it wasn't random. Nashville was random. Kingman wasn't-

That's… that's where he felt this…

The intercept…. Shrieker getting torn apart, that silent lull in the wind before impact…

Being the first to wake up… to step out of that tank and… watch. Watch as the wedge broke apart. The outer funnel vanished to reveal the figure of the inner vortex that had just wiped a town off the face of the Earth. It was only two miles away, but it stood so close.

From what the track showed in the aftermath, it had stalled in that moment. Wind speeds were still holding 200 plus, but a slot of warm, dry air had entered. It was losing its condensation and tightening into a sporadic multivortex like in its youth. Only it wasn't dropping funnel after funnel. Two vortices stayed consistent. It was rotating around one side and fading only to reform on the other. The upper funnel was still present but refused to move.

Lincoln remembered that moment… a dead man walking with another, staring each other down before both turning away. One to continue terrorizing the land, the other to go to the other side and pull his friends free. Laying them on the side of the road. Hoping back into the truck to radio for help….

… feeling the greatest physical pain he ever had swallowed him so fast he heard his heart stop…

… he heard something drop. Something coming towards him…

"LINCOLN?!"

"Sam?" he sputtered. Seeing her figure in front of him but not seeing her features. He saw her kneel by his side, hands holding his face, trying to get him to look at her. Feeling the cast against his cheek, images flashed before his eyes...

Sam… she was hurt… the storm. The storm had followed…

"I-I need to go." He uttered desperately, struggling to his feet and pushing off the table, "I need to go now."

Sam looked at him, confused, before he practically bolted up. Pushing chairs aside, forgetting all his stuff in the living room, and not even checking to see if his keys were still on him, he had only one thought on his mind. Even barefooted, he ripped open the door and ran outside. The drizzle transformed into a steady downpour and halted him for a brief second—a second long enough for him to lock eyes on his truck and not hear Sam calling out his name.

He made it halfway through the mud and grass before Sam ran up from behind.

"Lincoln, wait!" she cried, locking her arms around his torso as best she could despite the size difference.

At any other time before, Lincoln easily could have kept going. But now, the weight was enough to stop him. Almost pulling him backward and falling over. Sam cried out, expecting to be crushed, but Lincoln's legs buckled first. His knees hit the ground with a heavy thud as Sam's grip kept him from falling forward.

"I need to go…" He repeated, weakly reaching forward, "I need to go…"

"Go where!?" Sam shouted, "Linc, what's wrong?!"

"I need… I need…"

"Need what?!"

"I need… I need to protect them…"

'Them?' Sam thought. Trying to figure out the gibberish Lincoln was repeating like a broken record.

Then it clicked like a match to dry tinder.

Luna… Luna had said a storm had hit her family. The way she fell apart like Lincoln…

He knew.

Before they got here, he didn't act like it at all. When she last saw him before her shower, he was a bit out of it but not on the brink of a mental breakdown like this. Had he heard their conversation? She wasn't being really hush-hush quiet, but she wasn't screaming it out either. She heard him fall into the dining room like he was still in the living room.

She thought back to his setup, the computer. Maybe he-

"I need… I ne-HMPHF." His eyes widened as his cheeks inflated.

Realizing what was coming, Sam let her grip go. Lincoln had just enough strength to keep himself up before it was all redirected into unleashing everything left in his stomach over the grass. From what he had left expunged, his body forced whatever else there could be. Dry heaving so violently, he dug up handfuls of grass, arching his back like a cat as one after another forced its way through like a demon trying to escape.

Once he felt his body give all it couldn't, he spat out what horrid taste occupied his mouth as tears mingled with the rain. Coughing a few times, he slowly opened his eyes, lifting away from the grass to be at least upright…

… it was enough for his head to feel a shockwave hit, and he rolled to his left side into the grass. Almost rolling down the hill but being so limp, he made a meaty thud against the wet grass with his heaving chest and his movement. The cold ground and rain hit him from both sides, trickling down his face as he stared blankly under Storm Shrieker. Past the line of trees, past the field towards the horizon, watching the clouds move like a river…

He didn't register the fact Sam was by his side again. How much his chest hurt him or how cold he was becoming…

"Lincoln, please," Sam cried, "Say something…"

It shocked her seeing him on the floor, it surprised her when he ran out, but it scared her the most when he collapsed and didn't move. So many things could have happened or were. He could have had a heart attack or stroke, a reflex from something that kicked his gut. Everyone in their lives, either personal experience or witnessing, had been that one level of sickness that took everything out of the person; anyone feared they were on the verge of dying. Whether this was true or not varied so much; a person could be sick in the morning, fine by the afternoon, or be dead by tomorrow.

Lincoln… He looked so close to it.

"Lincoln, please…" she begged. Snaking her hand to find him, she grasped it tightly with the mud sealing between them.

His pale face flinched at the touch, and his eyes slowly shifted from the horizon to the woman. Feeling her touch was so warm against his skin; it was like he held hands with fire. But it didn't burn; it didn't hurt. From the burning within him, it was strong enough to tame but not cause discomfort.

Slowly, the pain ceased.

He breathed more steadily. The pulsing in his head slowed to nothingness. His throat still burned, and every subtle movement agitated his stomach, but it wasn't enough to keep him down anymore.

With his free arm, he tried to get his bearings. The sight of him trying to get up was enough for Sam to move quickly to help. Twisting his legs around so he wasn't about to fall back down the hill with his back towards the house, he let out another harsh cough as she patted his back in whatever way to help.

In a clear moment in between, he slowly turned towards his friend. Feeling as worse as his body felt seeing how scared and worried she looked. There wasn't much light out here, but seeing the tears shine in her eyes, his heart criticized him for making her so distorted.

"Linc…" Sam whispered, tightening her grip as he gave her a squeeze in return.

"I… I'm sorry, Sam. I… didn't mean for you to see something like that…"

"...has this happened before?" She asked, praying it wasn't so.

"… twice." He answered, not happy about the truth either.

"Lincoln," She whispered again, "What the hell happened to you?"

Looking into his eyes, Sam searched for an answer. She saw the raging sea in his blue eyes, the storm in the distance clouding the turmoil that outdid any twister there had been.

Looking into her eyes, Lincoln saw a familiar light without direction. He saw the turmoil in her eyes, but it was because of him that they were there to start with. At the hospital, she was curious yet cautious—not for who he was but for what he had turned into. From the reflection he saw back in that mirror, he didn't recognize himself anymore…

"It's… a long story…" He sighed, knowing that he could tell some but not all. He could count the number of people who knew it all in his hand; he'd prefer to keep it that way. Sam was living a normal life before that storm. A broken arm was a speed bump in life for anyone, but in time, it'll return to normal again. He didn't want to risk having her pulled into something he knew the results could lead to.

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, he couldn't stand the hurt anymore. Flicking away and wiping the mud from his hand on his shirt, he reached up and gently used the back of his hand to wipe away her tears.

The gesture surprised Sam, but it was a welcomed one. Even through all… this, Lincoln's caring side for others stood out brighter than anything else. A light surrounded the storm, keeping it contained through everything he had gone through. When tired to collapse, he would stand awake to watch over.

She smiled, and it brought a smile to him. It only fed back into her thoughts as she carefully stood up, "Let's get you back inside. I'll see if I have anything that might fit you or get a load of your laundry through first."

Chuckling at the idea, he could feel how soaked his clothes were now and frowned at how he had ruined his only good pair left as he stood up. Staggering from a head rush, he nearly fell backward until Sam reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it tight as she pulled him back forward. Blushing from his clumsiness, he slowly started back to the house with Sam, switching sides, using her good arm to lock around his and have him lean on her towards home.

Both shivered as they returned to the warm, dry air mixing in with the cool, wet air pouring into the front door. As Lincoln broke away, using the back of the couch to support himself as he made his way back around, Sam made sure to turn the lock and, as an extra, put in the chain bolt to make herself a bit more mindful that unless Lincoln broke down the door or jumped through a window, wouldn't possibly run out like that.

Leaning back to rest against the door, Sam blew some loose hair off her face as she took a moment to get her senses in order. Feeling how soaked her clothes were, she groaned at having another pair ruined, but her heart was still trying to come down from beating a million miles a minute. Her attention was directed to the source as Lincoln returned to his original spot on the couch. He quickly folded his laptop shut like he was looking at something embarrassing he wanted no other eyes to see.

Letting out a rough cough that made the rocker wince as he leaned forward and put his face in his hands; without seeing his eyes, she could feel just how tired he was. How, in just minutes, she went from that young boy she saw in the body of a weary man morphed into someone who looked utterly defeated. A sigh through his lips, his sagged shoulders, if he could hide somewhere and turn to stone, she better her favorite guitar he would do it.

It… hurts to see it.

The memories of so many times they had interacted before, even in the more negative times, he always had that aurora to him that even when he was an inch from rock bottom, it was still there. Ready to send him straight back up higher than before. In the brief times, she had gotten him to talk that made him even crack a smile, hell, him doing the dishes and helping her get in and out of the truck, she saw it. He was only five years younger; from how he grew up if it could be physically seen, people would complain that the sun was somehow walking on the Earth.

Now, it was gone, yet there it remains. It was gone like something leaving the burnt flash outline after a massive explosion, yet you could see what it was before.

Her earlier curiosity was becoming very hungry now. The way he used that old 'it's a long story' felt too much more personal than he was letting it be known as. He wasn't like this overnight. He had become two different people in minutes and was now back into a shattered version of the former. Thinking back to Luna's call-

'Oh, crap!' she shouted to herself as she dashed back to the hallway. She searched in the darkness until the reflective backing guided her to the idle device. Pleading it wasn't damaged, there was a little crack on the top corner, but it looked alright. She pressed the power button, showing a dead battery icon for a split second before it disappeared, but she didn't respond to any more attempts.

Feeling another mess to deal with, she cringed when she realized that the last thing Luna had probably heard was her screaming her brother's name as he had just died. Cutting, or more like dropping, the call like that… lord knows what kind of reaction that would have given her ex…

Looking back to the living room, Lincoln hadn't moved again, adjusting a little in his seat and staring at his computer. She was almost afraid to return to her bedroom if the universe wanted a replay of the last half hour. Without closing the door, she did dart inside. Putting the phone back on the charger and grabbing a pair of fresh clothes, her loaded hamper, and Lincoln's jacket, she popped back out, hoping and happy to see that things hadn't changed.

Draping the coat over her cast, she slowly returned to the living room. Call it a bit distasteful for quickly jumping to something else, but Sam felt Lincoln needed a minute to himself. She knew she did, but for him, it was to make sure he had peace to calm down. To steer away his thoughts from the storm that had just hit him and look to something past it. But she didn't want to leave him alone for too long.

"I'm going to toss all this in the wash. Figured it'll be better for you to have a clean pair of clothes for bed and tomorrow."

As she went to lift the strap, his hand quickly latched onto the bag, "Don't worry about it. I can… I can get it later."

"Lincoln, " she said calmly, letting the strap go to place her hand on his. "It's fine. Just relax, okay?" Sam could see the counter forming in his eyes, but it slowly faded as he pulled his hand away from the bag; she retook the strap and dropped the duffle onto her hamper.

"You want this washed too?" she held up his jacket. Staring at it for a second, he slowly nodded again. Looking back to the floor, he took another deep breath as he ran his hands through his dirty, wet hair.

Moving fast, or as fast as she could with one hand trying to hold onto the overloaded plastic basket, she dashed past the kitchen to the opposite side of the house. Practically leaping into the laundry room and shutting the door in the dark like she was trying to hide. Flicking the light on, she caught her breath for a second more as she started up the washer.

Tossing the jacket in first, she figured his clothes could go first. Opened the duffle bag to be greeted by a wave of oder that made her eyes bug out as she closed the flap; she steeled her nerves to open the bag again and pull out the first piece of cloth she grabbed in a pinch…

… a bloody vest greeted her in the light…

Back in the living room, Lincoln was a bit confused by Sam's sudden exit, but he couldn't judge…

What he couldn't stand was his own breakdown like that… Had a second version of him been standing there, he would have clobbered him in the face with no hesitation, demanding to know why here and now, of all places, he broke like that….

The door to the laundry room suddenly swung open with a thunk as Sam slowly walked out. Dressed in a simple red t-shirt that was a bit tight on-

He quickly looked away. He felt a hot blush erupt on his cheeks so brightly that it was like he had hot coals in his mouth. His thoughts from moments ago were replaced by rather… specific thoughts he really didn't expect or need right now. Quickly trying to think back to something, staring into the darkness of the television, he silently pleaded for it to be like a mirror to get his thoughts far away from that…

Those thoughts and efforts were interrupted when Sam made her presence further known as she plopped into the space on the couch where his duffle bag had been. Glancing from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of… things, but his focus was taken by how exhausted Sam looked now.

She knew to take it easy. The first day with a broken arm was one thing, and riding in a twister was two solid reasons, but he hadn't been making it easy today. Looking around the room for any clock, he was perplexed by an old neon red Rolling Stones clock saying it was close to 5 pm.

Only an hour here, and what has been accomplished?

Oh yeah, two different sides of a panic attack from yours truly, possibly driving the spikes of insanity deep into the former rockstar's mind. He wouldn't blame her if she felt that maybe him staying here until morning was not much of a good idea anymore.

But he couldn't deny she was helping him a lot more right now than she knew. It was the same kind of feeling he got with Clyde by his side. At least back then, he was so immobile that he only wandered the house when he had the strength to do things for himself and prepare for future incidents. The last couple of days had been such a chore to accomplish he didn't know if he should be proud or disappointed.

So much in a single year, and had things gone as he had hoped, he would be with another one right now, embarking on the first steps of a new chapter in their lives…

'Don't think about the past of a future that doesn't exist…' his inner voice said to himself—reminding him to stay focused on what was in front of him. Sam told him to relax, and he'd try. But he needed her to do the Sam. Both of them being stressed out after a long day wouldn't help them, aside from getting a migraine faster.

Pulling the computer back towards him, Lincoln thought of some way to get on even ground. He couldn't tell Sam much of what he fully knew. That was one of several reasons she wasn't part of the network back home; even those didn't know the full extent. She kept asking what had happened and what was wrong with him.

She was there in his youth; she shared a connection to Luna like he did; he could trust her.

He couldn't tell her everything, but he could show her a glimpse of it. Enough that she could understand why he was the way he was.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Link?"

"Why are you so curious to know?"

Leaning off the couch to be roughly eye level with him, she unexpectedly reached an arm around him, "Because I care about you, Link. You were a good kid before I first met you and a great person when I met you again today. It's not normal for you to be like this…"

"... I can show you part of the reason why… have you heard of the show called Storm Chasers?"

Sam made a so-so gesture: "Somewhat… reality TV isn't something I feel is worth it anymore."

Lincoln let out a little laugh at that. "That's honestly understandable," he said. He felt the same way about how, during the season, the producers tried to get them to overreact to things or create some conflict between others. 'Reality' TV was as scripted as a Hollywood movie in this day and age.

"Well... I guess that makes this a little easier and harder to show, but…"

Pulling his computer back to them and opening the screen, Sam was surprised to see the page Lincoln had on was labeled as the Royal Woods Tornado. Her earlier questions were answered in how he found out, but she was confused when he quickly clicked off and searched 'Tornadoes of 2025', and a new page popped up. Another article discusses the many tornadoes that have occurred this year, with 1,657 confirmed and 43 yet to be confirmed. It was already being billed as one of the most hyperactive years to date behind the famed 2011 and 2004 seasons and was well on its way to being in the top three.

On the side list with the activity dates, number of twisters, deaths, and statistics, two tornadoes were listed: May 16th, Oklahoma City, and June 19th, Kingman, Kansas.

Watching him click on the latter, the page refreshed to a mammoth article that she felt was longer than the one dedicated to Smooch. It was broken down from a general description of the weather conditions before and on that day, the build-up, the storm itself, what happened to the town and afterward, the aftermath itself, and the impacts it had. Lincoln zipped the page down to the impacts section without missing a beat, opening a set of foldouts with 'Storm Chaser Impact' as its title. Highlighting a rather large section, Lincoln turned the computer towards Sam.

"... this is a big part of the story," he said, returning to give her space.

Hesitant, she silently read to herself, 'To date, the Kingman, Kansas super tornado is regarded as the deadliest in storm chasing history since the infamous El Reno tornado of May 31, 2013, that had killed four storm chasers that had become impacted by its erratic suction vortices and poor road conditions. Seven deaths were confirmed to be from the tornado itself, causing multiple cars to go airborne as the storm entered the town itself. 11 more were from being hit by the large volume of flying debris caused by the tornado's massive six-mile-wide wind field that had caught several groups of chasers in the debris field when attempting to flee west south of town as the storm began to undergo its left turn.'

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. Trying to picture the scene out of a disaster movie for something so massive made out of wind. She looked to Lincoln, yet he gestured for her to keep reading.

'Among the deaths, over 70 injuries from motorists and chasers were reported; the most shocking of all was from the SkyKnights storm chasing group, of which the heavily armored tornado intercept vehicle Storm Shrieker, crewed by Lincoln Loud, Ronalda Santiago, and a Discovery Channel cameraman, attempted to intercept the tornado on Berry Road north of Kingman before aborting the intercept and fleeing south. Unable to escape due to the extreme conditions and the vehicle taking damage from flying debris, the team redeployed north of town as the main tornado vortex passed to their west by a quarter mile...'

… and below that, a collage of 15 images lined in three rows of five. Some show the storm in the distance like it was taken from inside the town, another of a line of cars like they were trapped inside a hurricane. Four were said to have been taken from Shrieker's turret camera, which showed a convoy of vehicles ahead of the tank on a dirt road being pelted by debris. In the second picture, something big passed between the front of the tank and the rear of the forward car.

But in the third, that car didn't have any of its four wheels touching the Earth. And in the fourth… you could see what vaguely looked like the tail lights of a sedan being tipped over and about to roll into the field, but the only sight of the SUV was the brief clump of pixels on the top left from its headlights shining straight into the camera. All with timestamps happening within 25 seconds of all four frames.

"Jesus Christ, Lincoln…" Sam uttered, horrified, "This is what you do?" For God's sake, had he been driving anything else, she wouldn't doubt he would have been the first one to go flying among those cars. Adding to the fact that he had images and video of several peoples' last moments on this planet alive…

"Keeping going…" he quietly said, lacing his hands together and bowing his head.

She really didn't want to, but there was a section left that he had highlighted, 'the vehicle was then impacted by either a piece of farm or construction equipment that had destroyed the rear passenger wheels, forcing the crew into a ditch. Lincoln would transmit that they were deploying in their current position as the storm passed. Weather instruments and special radars mounted on its roof recorded windspeeds at their location of over 280 mph as the tornado passed within its quarter mile. Though the anchoring system was compromised, the vehicle could stay in place until a massive object of unknown origins collided with the front drive side of the vehicle. This caused the windshield and driver door to be shattered and torn off, exposing the crew to the weaker northeastern winds…'

Below that, several images showed what seemed like the view from a dashcam coming towards the tank, with its headlights in stark contrast to the storm behind it. Several showed the vehicle being swarmed by people, revealing the sight of the vehicle plastered in mud and grass. The windshield caved in and peeled away, and the driver's door opened wide, punched inwards, with part of the frame forward with no windows.

"... it was hell to go through and a miracle in the end…" Lincoln quietly said, "But I should have been dead that day… rarely anyone goes through that kind of experience and keeps going back…"

"Then why are you still doing it?!" she said, a bit more 'raw' than she wanted it to sound.

Slowly, he looked up, eyes filled with two different sides of commitment and regret: "There's a lot more to it… but the heart of it is for two reasons. One is personal, in the success I've gotten in life. It's actually made me see what I can do with my life. With all that, I could send part of it to my friends and family so they can live more comfortable lives. The other…"

He couldn't help it, he laughed. It was the feeling you got after trying for so long, so much blood, sweat, and tries, only to discover afterward that you missed your chance or that it happened regardless. Anyone would cry, burst into anger of varying levels, wallow in disappointment, or shut themselves down. And then there was the kind where you could only laugh—intertwined with all the above in a single expression. Putting the prices together in how it led up to that point and seeing how it all clicked together when it was right in front of you.

"... so that my family doesn't follow me and experience the same nightmare… So much for that part… I-" He was cut off when he was suddenly being pulled back. Twisting around to face Sam, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, resting her head on his right shoulder.

Though he felt a little awkward for some reason, everything felt like it was evaporating. It wasn't just a regular hug one gave to comfort; it was meant to let someone ease a burden off another before it could entirely crush them. Impossible as it was to trade places, it was something he hadn't felt in a long while.

"You couldn't have known…" Sam said quietly in his ear, "Even with all that science stuff, you couldn't have known what it would have done."

She wasn't wrong… but she wasn't right either. The side of the line where science and facts were constantly solidified, broken, and rebuilt. On a day like when you had a 12 percent chance to see a tornado in the same spot you were at hours ago, the math had said there was a chance. The data pointed to there being a chance. That chance could vary from it being something small and weak that maybe only a single person would notice because their favorite tree got knocked over, or it would produce a monster to stand with the long list of contenders this year and into history.

Yet on the other side of that line was the unknown, where fate stood like an endlessly changing river cutting through sand. Science might make that river become a straight line from point A to B, but if fate wanted it, then 89o snake around 300 times before reaching the end; give it time, and it'll do it in ways no one expects it to.

He hoped that the science was wrong. With fate practically clawing at his back, it would've seen this as a great opportunity to do what it failed before. Lincoln knew now it saw more than that yesterday as a way to get to him.

"Sam… I-no. Nevermind…"

"What? What is it?" She asked, pulling away to face him directly.

He turned away, "No. No, it's not appropriate to ask…"

"Lincoln, you can tell me." Her voice was as smooth as ever. It made his skin tingle, but it went deeper than a needle.

He took a deep breath, clearing his mind of every thought except the question he had prepared. He had wanted an outside perspective of this outside of chasing, a view and opinion from someone who hadn't become so immune to the danger and risk. Maybe he could get just that with what she had gone through being a first and hopefully only time experience.

Looking back up, Sam was surprised by his intense gaze, looking her dead in the eye.

"If you knew you were going to die but didn't when you should have. Yet, know that it is only a matter of time before it does happen; what would you do with the time you know you have left?"

That… was FAR from what Sharp had been expecting. Maybe it was something about him and the fact that he couldn't control the actions of the world, but he spoke so strongly that it was like he knew part of the answer already. She was floored. Who asks that kind of question? That was something someone with an illness would tell if they only had three months to live and didn't tell anyone they were sick yet.

Everyone lived their life differently. Sometimes, others followed the same path, but they walked at a different pace. Knowing you're going to die one day is a hard pill for anyone to swallow. Usually, it becomes more and more sensible the older you get when your life is filled with whatever you've done. Asking it when you're only 20 is something that never, if rarely, leads to something good.

"Lincoln, I…"

She could picture it two ways. One was like Final Destination, panicking so much to try to prevent it. The other was that if you know it's inevitable, you'd want to live each day to the fullest. Embrace it all so that when that day did come, everyone would go look back to what was all said and done and what hadn't been.

He said it was like he woke up today without expecting to. She woke up yesterday, not expecting that it could have been all over by the afternoon. She didn't remember how it all happened. It was all rainy and flashing lights, feeling like she was on a roller coaster until hitting something so hard she blacked out.

It was all just a blur to her…

She stammered for an answer, and Lincoln's sitting there stone-faced, waiting, made her nervous about finding one.

"You don't have to answer." Lincoln took her hand, "Like I said, it probably wasn't the most appropriate question."

"Then why ask?"

He slowly turned away, facing back towards the TV, where his reflection stared right back. "Call it the curiosity of an outsider's opinion on something… If you knew something for a long time and questioned it one day, would you ask someone who's already a part of it and knows or someone who doesn't and can see all sides at once?"

Sam went to respond but stopped. Turning away to let her thoughts cook, Lincoln sat in silence, mulling over what he had already come to. He did ponder what to do after all this… When he was level-headed enough, he needed to call the Foundation and get more emergency forces northward. They could start at Detroit, work southward, and meet up with those from the coast, but he needed the bulk in Royal Woods.

After that… he didn't know exactly.

He was basically done chasing now. The systems had moved too far east for him to get ahead unless he took a plane tonight to Baltimore. Hurricane season was over; the west was heavily soaked from all the nonstop rain, and the chance of wildfires dropped. All he could do immediately was go back to El Reno and prepare.

Get his gear organized and the fleet ready for next season. Improve and change Storm Shrieker to be better than it is now. With what was coming up, he was fully expecting to run a solo unit. Everyone else would be with someone else for navigation or probe duty, but he had built himself up enough over the months to run without a co-pilot, and the last two days had been a hard test, one that he failed in some regards to his health.

And after that, if the universe hadn't gotten him by March, the Great Plains would have all of spring and most of summer to do him in. He didn't want to risk a co-pilot being right there when the worst happened. He could have as much data and armor as possible, but somehow, nature would find its way through.

But looking around, he did see part of the answer he was looking for.

Where the rec room back home was decorated with all his memories and accomplishments, Sam's living room was the same, reflecting what she had done. Her big time in the light was over, yet she kept moving. She had plenty of time to quickly rocket back into that light, above and beyond it if she chose. The same could be said for his sisters. Disasters had happened before and didn't stop them.

It didn't stop him either.

The bad luck incident, Scotland, willingly staying behind on that rocket, pressing forward to chase down Kingman, so many more times he had faced down death either by surprise or his own actions, afraid but ready. In so many of those times, he knew that death had every chance it wanted, yet it held out. Preferring to make him bleed and then go straight to the heart.

Yesterday was its attempt to make him bleed again. What would tomorrow hold?

If he had done nothing, it would have been him giving up. He was a Loud; you can't keep them down. They'll fight to the bitter end, and even if the outcome for them isn't great, it could mean others will still succeed beyond his time.

He was done for this year, but next year….

"Hungry?" Sam suddenly said, drawing his attention.

"Hmm?"

"I said, are you hungry?" She repeated, getting up, "It's getting a bit late; figure do something other than being sucked down a philosophical rabbit hole."

What was she… oh, he saw it now. He couldn't blame her and thanked her for it.

He had been brewing with that for so long at the last minute on top of everything else; that positive mood the house had when he first stepped inside was practically gone. The sudden picture of home cooking came back to the forefront like a boulder racing down a hill, and his inner voice was pleading for him to move away and save it for another day.

Not just for his sake, but for Sam's.

He had been driving enough; letting someone else take the wheel for once felt like a needed change in pace.

"Yeah… that sounds nice, " he said, to which Sam gave him a small smile, patted his back, and got up to head for the kitchen.

She passed the dining room before the sound of moving chairs made her snap back. Afraid to see a repeat of earlier, she finds Lincoln picking up the fallen furniture from his fall. Placing them and a spilled mess of items back on the table, he moved around her to the fridge.

"What are you going?" She asked, wondering what had gotten into him this time.

"I'm helping make dinner, " he said, shuffling some things around to understand what he was working with.

With a bit of frustration in her sigh, she shook her head, "No, Link. I got this-"

"Sam." He cut her off, looking back at her. "You said I should relax, right?"

She nodded slowly, "Then I'm going to do it in a way that I know, and that's helping out a friend."

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

Officially over 400k words!

This story is now the biggest story I have ever written (as a single piece) in 10 years on this site. So far, it hasn't hit my highest chapter count (about 43 from an old crossover), and it took over 3 years to reach 320k words and combine 4 of my biggest former stories combined in size. Yet this story is shaping up to be in the triple digits, with an estimate of over 600k words by the end of the year and over a million (given roughly 10-11k chapters) once it's all said and done. I have turned it into a bit of a side mission to see how big I can really make this story go, as with this chapter, I have no idea that one of my preplanned chapters (one that involves Lori) isn't complete but is already over 23k could reach when complete of be broken down into more chapters in of itself.

Speaking of, this chapter was a bit of a flip flop in things. For one, I originally (again) intended the first story arc to end with this. It was over 15k, and I was thinking, 'let's end it big,' but after some rereading, I found that the tonal shift by what became the ending for this didn't work well for what followed and what happened before. I had written most of this chapter within just 4 days of binge writing but got sick Wednesday that took the wind out of my sails to finish it in its huge form.

So if it wasn't obvious, the title of this chapter was directly inspired by the song "Ain't No Love in Oklahoma" from the new Twisters movie that came out a few months before the film.

Now personally, country is one of the genres of music I utterly hate. Up there with 70% of rap music, overbeat techno or trap and a wide stroke of others that if I was forced to spend the better part of a 7 hour drive listening to any of it or have no music at all, I'd gladly chose the later.

That said, I was skeptical, but it quickly became one of my new favorate songs to play on repeat to get inspiration going. Immedately I had been building ideas and scenes in my mine with each set of lyrics and how it would all go to this story. Evolving to the point that it somehow fits perfectly for Lincoln in the context of what he's been through. Something that has gotten my thinking more about writing out past events like Chapter 10.

On the main focus, this was my first real attempt at writing someone having a panic attack. As reading some other TLH stories to see how others go about Lincoln or the other characters going through it, I looked to other media to get more ideas, eventually finding more ground with the anxiety attack scene in Puss in Boots: The Last Wish as the idea that death is much closer to Lincoln than anyone can really know. Lincoln can't turn away from tornado alley. It's become a part of him, ingrained into his blood and mind; what alternative is there for him in this world where he just can't stop chasing that same old devil?

This part did give me an idea of how future characters outside the family could be part of the story, even if for a moment. Bobby and Clyde being the two most prevalent so far, and that little nod at the end with the phone call. Though for here and now, Sam's focus was on trying to help give him a sense of familiarity he hadn't had in a long time. Out of everyone he's been part of in the last few years, Sam was the absolute closes he had been to Luna and therefore his sisters. Because she had her own life and was too close, she wasn't part of his 'home network'. And given that Lincoln had his focus on other things up until that point, his 'network' was busy trying to deal with the fact their town had been destroyed yesterday.

On another note: I finally got Twisters itself on hand to watch as much as I want to pull apart ideas and scenes from. Some parts I knew were already part of the story in some aspects before I saw the movie the first time, but who knows what inspiration can cook up?

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