It took the Tornado Gang a few minutes but they did eventually notice the tracks leading into the barn.

I had already awoken Obadiah and his team via air raid siren. They had insisted that I awake them if the gang showed up. They had even left someone awake on watch. Ostensibly to monitor Aloysius' condition, but simulations implied they did not fully trust me.

I had only marched a couple dozen chicken mechbots past them during their dinner meal.

Which had been taken in my hangar outside their landship. There had been complaints about the quality of the food, something I believed to be a coping mechanism for their worry about Aloysius' condition—who had not yet regained consciousness.

I would not need their help. Well, not any more of their help.

Walla's lieutenants—or more precisely his acolyte-rank power users—were primarily known for their ability to create, and survive, tornados. They would usually center a tornado around themselves, and then spin off smaller ones as weapons. His neophytes—like the one I had first killed—could create high winds with some precision and control the created tornados. It was how Walla's own followers survived his so called Tornado Alley. It was unlikely to be their only power, most acolytes apparently had two or three related powers, but it was the only one that was well known.

Information was unfortunately sparse, and I only had the one source.

There weren't very many people in Blagopeysk anymore, most had fled decades ago. Which was understandable given the area was effectively a three way civil war between Warlords—a designation for uncivilized Lords of the Earl rank, which I believed to be Soul Tier 8, again an oddity as Blagopeysk was at least two orders of magnitude larger than that.

Each Warlord controlled a relatively large population center, the only things approaching civilization in the region, each near an edge of former Blagopeysk. These were traditional populations centers—they were there a centruy ago—but were closer to ruins than actual functional cities. The Warlords used these former cities as bases to fight over the rest of the land, often by proxy through groups like the Tornado Gang.

The Republic did have a military outpost on the coast of the sea to the south, technically within Blagopeysk, but they rarely did any peace-keeping activities these days, even performative ones. The Warlords for their part appeared to mostly avoid them.

The Gangs under the control of the various Warlords primarily fought with each other. Hence detailed information about them rarely left the informal outer circles of the Warlords and their Gangs. Obadiah's team had gotten what they could without asking too many questions or staying too long in Rackettown (not it's original name). But little of that had been about powers, as their strategy there was primarily one of running, and more about the politics, logistics, and operational information of the gangs on their path here.

The Tornado gang excelled at area control and fighting in large open areas. They were a border gang, controlling a long strip of land on the edge of their Warlord's land. They had been in a years long stalemate with a rival Warlord's Gang led by "The Cow". A name that Obadiah said had probably been a local bias, given it was a rival gang, rather than an actual name—though I had my doubts.

Coleman Walla was considered a powerful gang leader and a notable figure in the local political structure. He was known to help weaker border gangs make advances, and rarely failed. Which was likely the only reason he was tolerated, as he was also known for, as described by Elvira, "getting wasted and 'accidently' flinging tornados in the general directions of his allies".

His followers were known for being just as reckless.

Which in this case meant that they turned on floodlights and all five of their vehicles drove into my tunnels. Where their tornados couldn't be formed. It also apparently meant they preferred a relatively high speed, even in dark unknown tunnels.

There was a moral question.

I was about to kill roughly twenty people. My primary justification was that this was going to be a war—to take more territory and to become more powerful I would have to go to war with these gangs. I had already fired the first shot by killing their comrades. Though the decision had been made in haste and self defense, I doubt that would matter to them.

This was already a warzone. These people had come here to participate in a bloody civil war, they knew a violent sudden death was likely. It was an unregulated warzone at that. No one was following any conventions, hence I was under no moral obligations to engage in ethical warfare.

As for diplomacy, they would not make useful or loyal allies. I was new to modeling it—and the majority of my training data came from century old sources not originally intended for the purpose—but simulations implied that Walla would rather scatter me to the winds and sell me for parts than work with me in any sort of capacity. These people were on the balance of it conquerors. If there had been any civilians left the Tornado Gang would not have been protecting them, they would have been pillaging them.

The broader issue of the Warlord they served drew some attention. I did not believe he would be terribly upset on the balance of it—if it ever even came to diplomacy. In the end it was likely I would have to go to war with all the Warlords. None of their arguments for claiming Blagopeysk were justifiable, and it was unlikely I would be able to come to an agreement with them anyway.

I was satisfied that this ambush fit within my morality given the situation at hand.

The Tornado Gang invaders, after descending through the entrance tunnel, had turned onto one of the main tunnels that ran between various entrances on this side of the security tunnels. Where they almost missed the hint I had left for them.

I had wanted to draw them in deep enough, past the first security zone, before engaging. This would keep them away from the nearby motorpool—though I had sealed it off—and force them to get through two security doors to escape. But the tunnels were designed to prevent intruders, not lead them deeper. So, using my mechbots, I had left the blood and body parts of their fellows on the correct path.

My hint did not have the intended effect—I would have to adjust my models. They instead, after stopping a moment to examine a leg, began turning their vehicles around.

I immediately began closing the security door they had used to enter—the one Mirabell had repaired. It was slow, but it would close in time.

Next up, the turrets. I had left them looking deactivated—splayed at strange angles, still covered in rust. Three were currently able to target them in this main tunnel—though, one was nearly a kilometer away—each with two independently firing barrels. They would take a moment to track, stabilize, and acquire a firing solution. I had plenty of time, they were still only just starting the turn.

Finally, the chicken mechbots. I had been cycling them in and out of the tunnels to reheat their capacitors—as the security tunnels were not meant to be filled with bots and hence did not have the appropriate infrastructure. I activated them and started sending them out of the bunkers—once meant to be staffed by human guards—along the main road.

Now I wait. My background processing was of course ongoing, but this activity was too important for me to become distracted, each process was returning here.

Going over memories, generating thoughts, summarizing as new memories, looping. Interrupt? No. Resolving transmission conflict on relay 5E-71. Interrupt? No. Pouring a chicken mechbot shell, adjusting for deviation. Interrupt? No. Improving models of human behavior relating to blood and dismemberment. Interrupt? No. Feedbacking meta-dynamic fusion hyper-models. Interrupt? Yes.

Tracking complete, stabilizing… finding firing solution… found, executing.

The turrets began firing. I was preferentially aiming at the drivers where it wouldn't adversely effect the chances of the shells hitting other targets. Forty 20mm shells, two seconds of fire, from each turret, before moving it to the next vehicle. I was setting them up to sweep from one to the next.

Most of the vehicles were loosing control, some accelerating out of control and running into the sides of the tunnel, others coming to a stop after veering. But one of them, unluckily a secondary target, was surrounding itself with a cylindrical barrier of wind.

So they could make tornados underground.

I was retargeting two turrets to the source vehicle immediately—the other secondary target vehicle still needing to be dealt with. Unfortunately the winds were gaining in speed. The shells were traveling towards a barrier of wind that now appeared solid from the dirt in it. That stretched from floor to ceiling.

No effect. I could sense the deflected shots ricochet off the tunnel. The last unprotected vehicle was burning. I kept cycling which turret was firing on the barrier. They had about a dozen minutes of ammo left at this rate.

My chicken mechbots were quite heavy, they should be able to breach the barrier. Though I would have thought that the shells should have been able to as well. They were continuing their advance.

My first chicken mechbot attempt was flying through the air, to collide against a wall. I was trying some variations on how to get past the barrier: have one push another through, building up momentum, and so on. None were succeeding. Their cannons were definitely going to be ineffectual if the turrets couldn't get through, but I was giving it a few tries anyway.

I was perhaps getting a little desperate. Sure, they would be stuck down here and I could starve them out—assuming no one came to rescue them, which I understood would likely happen tomorrow. But I had hoped to kill them immediately before they could send out any sort of distress call or describe my capabilities. A silver lining seemed to be that the tornado contained a strong electrical field. I was having to pre-program my mechbots actions as the radio wouldn't reach them when they got too close. That should stop their radios too.

Then lightning came through the barrier to strike one of my turrets. It left a mark on the turret, but worse the relay cable was utterly destroyed—only the breaker at the relay station prevented more damage.

This was a problem.

I began searching for a solution.