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They stood together as the machines hummed, as cloth became coats, as warmth took shape one careful seam at a time. The factory had stumbled. And now, steadier than before, it moved forward again.
The meet day arrived quietly at first.
Not with alarms, or urgency, or the metallic tang of crisis in the air, but with snow.
It had been falling for a week now, on and off, never quite heavy enough to halt movement, never light enough to be ignored. It softened Sanctuary's edges, filled the cracks in broken asphalt, settled on rooftops and sandbag walls, turning hard lines into something gentler. The Commonwealth looked almost peaceful beneath it, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Sico stepped outside Freemasons HQ late that morning, pulling his coat tighter against the cold. The sky above was the same dull gray it had been for days, low and heavy, like a ceiling pressing down on the settlement. The kind of sky that made sound travel strangely from laughter clearer, footsteps softer, silence deeper.
He hadn't come out with an agenda.
No meetings scheduled.
No briefings queued.
Just a walk.
Sometimes leadership demanded action. Other times, it demanded presence.
Sanctuary was alive in small, human ways.
Children were everywhere.
They darted through the snow-choked streets with shrill laughter, boots kicking up powder as they ran. A group near the old culdesac had turned a rusted hubcap into a sled, taking turns dragging each other down a shallow incline and crashing into a pile of old tires at the bottom. Another pair were hunched over, tongues poking out in concentration as they shaped a lopsided snowman that leaned dangerously to one side.
A girl spotted Sico and waved enthusiastically, nearly losing her balance in the process.
He lifted a hand back, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
This was why everything mattered.
A settler shoveled a walkway near his home, pausing to straighten when he noticed Sico approaching.
"Morning," the man said, breath fogging.
"Morning," Sico replied. "How's the roof holding?"
"Solid," the settler answered. "No leaks yet."
"Good," Sico said. "If it changes, tell maintenance."
The man nodded. "Will do."
Further down the street, a woman handed out thick scarves from a crate, wrapping them carefully around the necks of children who complained half-heartedly about the itch. Guards moved through the area at a relaxed pace, rifles slung low, eyes alert but calm.
Sanctuary felt right.
Not perfect.
But alive.
Sico let himself slow his pace, boots crunching softly through the snow. The cold bit at his cheeks, sharp and clean, grounding him in the moment. He watched his breath rise and vanish, watched flakes drift lazily from the sky.
Then he noticed the wind.
At first, it was subtle with a change in direction, a colder edge slipping beneath his coat. Snowflakes no longer fell straight down; they angled slightly, carried sideways by something unseen.
Sico stopped.
He lifted his gaze toward the horizon.
The gray sky hadn't changed color, not really, but it had thickened. The clouds looked denser now, layered and moving, rolling over one another in slow, deliberate waves. The light dimmed by degrees, as if someone were slowly turning a dial.
A memory surfaced unbidden.
Whiteout conditions.
Lost patrols.
Frozen bodies found days later, faces locked in expressions of surprise.
Sico's jaw tightened.
The laughter of children continued, oblivious.
Another gust of wind swept through the street, stronger this time. Loose snow skittered across the ground in thin sheets, whispering against walls and fences.
A guard nearby frowned, adjusting his scarf.
Sico turned sharply.
"Get word to your squad leader," he said. "Tell them to start watching the weather."
The guard blinked. "Sir?"
"Now," Sico said, already moving.
He didn't walk anymore.
He jogged.
Snow crunched louder beneath his boots as he cut through the streets toward Freemasons HQ. With every block, the wind strengthened, tugging at coats, whipping loose fabric. Snowflakes stung exposed skin now, no longer gentle.
Behind him, laughter faded, replaced by confused shouts as children were called back toward homes.
By the time Sico reached the HQ steps, the sky had darkened noticeably, the gray deepening into something closer to slate. The air felt charged, tense, like the moment before a storm broke.
He took the steps two at a time and pushed through the doors.
Inside, warmth hit him immediately, but so did urgency.
"President?" a clerk called from the front desk, startled by his pace.
"Activate the announcement room," he said without slowing. "Now."
The clerk didn't question it.
Sico moved through the familiar corridors at a near run, boots echoing off concrete walls. He passed soldiers mid-conversation, analysts hunched over maps, aides carrying stacks of reports. Heads turned as he went by, sensing the shift before he spoke a word.
The announcement room door swung open under his hand.
Inside, the space was small and functional with a microphone mounted at the center console, wiring running into the walls that carried sound across Sanctuary through loudspeakers mounted on poles and rooftops.
Sico stepped up to the console and grabbed the microphone.
For half a second, he closed his eyes.
Then he keyed it live.
A faint feedback hum echoed through the room and then his voice carried outward, amplified, reaching every corner of Sanctuary.
"Attention, Sanctuary. This is President Sico."
The effect was immediate.
Conversations paused.
Footsteps slowed.
Heads tilted upward instinctively toward speakers crackling to life.
"Weather conditions are deteriorating," Sico continued, voice calm but firm. "We are experiencing the early signs of a snow blizzard."
Outside, the wind howled louder, as if punctuating his words.
"This is not a drill," he said. "I repeat, this is not a drill."
In the streets, people stopped what they were doing. Parents reached for children. Guards straightened.
"All civilians are to return to their homes immediately," Sico ordered. "If you are not near your residence, find the nearest shelter and stay there."
Snow now whipped sideways past windows, visibility dropping by the minute.
"Do not attempt to travel. Do not attempt to move supplies. Secure doors and windows."
His grip tightened on the microphone.
"Guards and responders, initiate storm protocol. Patrol leaders, begin headcounts. Medical teams, prepare for cold exposure cases."
The speakers crackled as his voice carried through the growing roar of wind.
"Children are to be indoors. I repeat, children are to be indoors now."
Outside, bells rang as manual alarms being sounded by volunteers as backup, just in case the speakers failed.
"Sanctuary has faced storms before," Sico said, lowering his tone slightly, grounding it. "We know how to endure this. Stay calm. Stay inside. Look after each other."
He paused, just long enough for the message to settle.
"This storm will pass," he finished. "But only if we respect it."
He released the microphone.
The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the system and the distant howl of wind bleeding through the walls.
Sico exhaled slowly.
Then he moved.
Within minutes, Sanctuary transformed.
What had been play and work became movement with purpose. Doors slammed shut. Shutters were pulled tight. Guards ushered lingering settlers into nearby buildings, cloaks snapping in the wind.
Children were scooped up mid-protest and carried inside, snow clinging to boots and hair. One little boy laughed even as his mother scolded him, excitement outweighing fear for now.
Snow thickened rapidly, the flakes growing larger, denser, driven by a wind that seemed determined to scour the streets clean.
Magnolia's voice crackled over Sico's radio as he stepped back into the corridor.
"Storm confirmed," she said. "Visibility dropping fast."
"I see it," Sico replied. "Status?"
"Shelters opening. Factory shutting down non-essential lines. Sturges is locking down equipment."
"Good," Sico said. "No risks."
He pushed through the HQ doors again, stepping into a world already changed.
The blizzard was no longer approaching.
It was here.
Wind tore through Sanctuary's streets in violent gusts, lifting snow into blinding sheets. The familiar shapes of houses and barricades blurred, edges vanishing into white.
Sico pulled his hood up and leaned into the wind, forcing his way forward.
A pair of guards struggled with a door that had been blown half open.
"Get it shut!" Sico shouted, bracing himself against the wall and helping them slam it closed.
Inside, a family huddled near a fire, eyes wide but calm as the door was barred.
"Stay put," Sico told them. "You're safe here."
They nodded, gratitude plain.
He moved on, checking shelters, counting figures as best he could through the whiteout. Radios crackled constantly with updates, confirmations, requests for assistance.
"Sector three secured."
"Last child accounted for."
"Medical team ready."
The blizzard intensified by the minute.
Snow piled rapidly against walls and vehicles, burying tracks almost as soon as they were made. The sound of wind drowned out almost everything else, a constant, roaring presence that made the world feel smaller, more fragile.
At the edge of the central square, Sico spotted a lone figure struggling against the wind, bent nearly double.
He didn't hesitate.
He ran.
The figure turned out to be an older man, face red and eyes watering, clutching a crate he'd clearly refused to abandon.
"Drop it!" Sico yelled over the wind.
"I can't—" the man shouted back.
Sico grabbed the crate and shoved it aside, snow swallowing it instantly.
"Your life's worth more," he said, hauling the man toward the nearest building.
Inside, warmth and dim light greeted them. Others huddled there already, sharing blankets, murmuring anxiously.
"Stay here," Sico told the man, pressing a cup of hot liquid into his hands as someone offered it. "You're done for today."
The man nodded shakily. "Thank you."
Sico didn't linger.
He moved through the storm until his face burned and his limbs ached, checking, directing, helping wherever needed. Sanctuary responded like a living organism as the systems activating, people stepping into roles they'd practiced but hoped never to need.
Hours passed.
Time lost meaning inside the white roar.
Eventually, Sico returned to HQ, snow caked thick on his coat, boots soaked through. He shed his outer layers and leaned briefly against the wall, chest rising and falling.
Magnolia found him there.
"You didn't have to go out yourself," she said quietly.
"Yes, I did," Sico replied.
She studied him, then nodded. "All sectors report in. Everyone's accounted for."
Sico closed his eyes for a moment.
"Good."
The wind did not ease.
If anything, it grew angrier.
Sico stood at one of the narrow windows lining the upper floor of Freemasons HQ, his coat draped over a chair behind him, boots drying slowly near a heat vent. Meltwater pooled beneath them, darkening the concrete. Outside, Sanctuary was barely recognizable.
The blizzard had swallowed it.
Snow drove sideways in thick, relentless sheets, erasing streets, burying landmarks, turning familiar buildings into half-seen silhouettes that appeared and vanished between gusts. Light poles were ghosts now, their glow diffused into a pale halo that barely pushed back the white. The sound was constant as wind hammering against walls, roofs groaning under accumulating weight, loose metal rattling like bones.
Sico rested one hand against the cold glass.
He had seen storms before.
But this one was vicious.
Not sudden, not explosive, but enduring. The kind that tested systems, patience, and resolve. The kind that killed quietly if you underestimated it.
Below, movement was almost nonexistent. Sanctuary had obeyed the call. Doors were shut. Fires burned indoors. The streets were empty except for drifting snow and the occasional shadow moving between buildings with the guards, most likely, braced against the wind, making short, necessary dashes between secured points.
Sico's jaw tightened.
He turned from the window and reached for the radio clipped to his belt.
"Preston," he said, pressing the transmit button. "Come in."
Static hissed, then a familiar voice cut through, strained but steady.
"Here," Preston replied. "Go ahead."
Sico didn't waste time. "Can soldiers move outside safely?"
There was a pause on the other end, long enough for the wind outside to howl louder, as if filling the silence.
"Negative," Preston said finally. "Visibility's too low. Wind chill's brutal. Standard patrols would be at serious risk of frostbite or worse."
Sico nodded, even though Preston couldn't see it. "Understood."
He switched channels. "Sarah. Status?"
Her reply came quicker, clipped and professional. "Command here. We're monitoring. Blizzard intensity is holding steady, maybe increasing."
Sico glanced back at the window, at the swirling white.
"I need options," he said. "People might still get trapped. Structural failures. Medical emergencies."
Another pause. Then Sarah spoke again.
"Infantry can't operate effectively in this," she said. "But we can deploy Power Armor units."
Sico's eyes sharpened. "Say again."
"Power Armor teams," Sarah repeated. "Environmental seals will protect them from the cold and wind. Enhanced visibility systems. They can patrol Sanctuary, assist anyone trapped, reinforce doors, clear critical paths if needed."
Preston cut back in, voice firm. "I agree. Regular troops stay inside. Power Armor only. Limited teams. Controlled routes."
Sico didn't hesitate.
"Do it," he said. "I want them focused on residential sectors first. Elderly. Families with children. Anyone near structural weak points."
"Already mapping routes," Sarah replied. "We'll keep them within Sanctuary perimeter."
"Good," Sico said. "No heroics. This storm isn't something we challenge head-on."
"Understood," Preston said. "We'll treat it like a rescue op, not a show of force."
Sico released the transmit button and let out a slow breath.
The decision settled something in his chest that not fear, but responsibility. The kind that didn't ease just because you'd done the right thing.
Moments later, the first heavy shapes emerged into the storm.
From the HQ window, Sico watched as two hulking silhouettes pushed through the white, servo-motors whining under layers of snow and ice. Power Armor frames moved with deliberate strength, each step sinking deep before rising again, leaving trenches that vanished almost instantly as the wind filled them in.
Their helmet lights cut through the blizzard in narrow cones, sweeping side to side, methodical.
They looked almost unreal against the storm as machines built to endure what flesh could not.
Radios crackled as reports came in.
"Power Team Alpha deployed."
"Beta moving now."
"Thermal readings holding."
Sico stayed by the window longer than he meant to, tracking their progress until the white swallowed them whole.
Behind him, HQ was alive with quiet motion. Clerks redistributed blankets. Medical staff prepared hot packs and extra supplies. Engineers monitored power output, rerouting where needed to keep heaters running.
No panic.
Just work.
Magnolia joined him a few minutes later, her hair still damp from melted snow, cheeks flushed from the cold she'd just come in from.
"They're moving," she said, following his gaze to the window.
"Yes," Sico replied. "Power Armor teams only."
She nodded. "Smart."
They stood together in silence for a moment, listening to the storm batter the building.
"This is worse than last winter," Magnolia said quietly.
"Yes," Sico agreed. "But we're better prepared."
She glanced at him. "Because you planned for it."
"Because we planned for it," he corrected.
Her lips pressed into a thin smile. "Fair."
A loud crack echoed faintly through the wind that distant, but sharp enough to turn heads.
Magnolia stiffened. "That didn't sound good."
Sico was already reaching for the radio.
"Report," he said.
A moment later, Sarah's voice came through.
"Minor structural failure on the east residential block. Old roof gave way under snow load. No casualties. Power Armor team on site, evacuating residents to shelter."
Sico closed his eyes briefly.
"Good," he said. "Keep me updated."
The blizzard continued its assault, hour after hour.
Inside Sanctuary's shelters, life condensed into smaller spaces. Families gathered close around fires. Children were wrapped in too many layers, cheeks flushed with heat and excitement despite their parents' attempts to keep them calm. Stories were told. Old songs hummed softly. Someone started a card game using mismatched decks.
In one shelter, a little girl pressed her face against a frosted window, eyes wide.
"It looks like the world disappeared," she whispered.
Her mother knelt beside her, pulling her close. "It's still there," she said gently. "Just resting."
Back at HQ, Sico received constant updates.
A trapped door forced open by Power Armor.
A generator stabilized.
A man with early frostbite treated in time.
Each report was a small victory against the storm's indifference.
Hours blurred together.
Outside, night fell or what passed for night beneath the blizzard. Darkness layered itself over white, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Even the Power Armor teams reported difficulty navigating despite their systems.
"Reduce patrol radius," Sico ordered over the radio. "Focus only on active distress calls."
"Copy," Sarah replied. "Pulling teams closer to shelters."
Sico returned to the window again, watching the storm rage unchecked.
For the first time that day, he felt the weight of it that not fear, but the awareness of how small everything was against forces like this. How fragile civilization could be if it grew careless.
Magnolia stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes tired but alert.
"We'll make it through," she said, not as reassurance, but as fact.
"Yes," Sico replied.
Another report came in, this time from Preston.
"Power Team Alpha is returning," he said. "Armor integrity holding. No further civilians unaccounted for."
"Good," Sico said. "Bring them in once rotations allow."
He leaned back against the wall, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that the immediate danger had stabilized. His muscles ached from the cold, from hours of tension held too tightly.
Magnolia noticed.
"You should sit," she said.
"In a minute," he replied.
She didn't argue.
The radio crackled again before Sico could move away from the wall.
Not the sharp, clipped sound of routine updates, but something heavier, edged with strain.
"Command… this is Power Team Alpha, squad leader reporting."
Sico straightened immediately, fatigue pushed aside by instinct. He crossed the room in two strides and took the radio from the console, bringing it closer.
"Go ahead, Alpha," he said.
Static surged, then the voice came through clearer, muffled by armor filters and wind.
"Blizzard's dumping heavy accumulation, sir. Snow's covering large sections of Sanctuary. Residential roofs are getting buried fast. Hospital access points are starting to clog. We've cleared what we can, but it's coming down faster than we can move it."
The words landed hard.
Magnolia's head snapped up, eyes sharp. Around them, aides and officers went still, every conversation dying mid-sentence as the weight of the report spread through the room.
Sico closed his eyes for half a second that not in defeat, but calculation.
"How bad?" he asked.
"Bad enough that if this keeps up," Alpha replied, "we're looking at structural risk. Especially older homes. Hospital roof is holding, but the entrances are nearly buried. The access is compromised."
Sico felt something cold settle in his chest as not fear, but urgency sharpened into steel.
"Understood," he said. "Hold position and prioritize clearing the hospital first. I want access routes kept open at all costs."
"Copy that," Alpha replied. "Requesting additional Power Armor support."
Sico didn't hesitate. "Approved. Beta and Gamma will reinforce you. Rotate teams if heat levels spike. No overextension."
"Roger."
The transmission cut.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The storm roared outside like a living thing, relentless, uncaring.
Magnolia broke the silence first.
"The hospital can't be isolated," she said quietly. "If we lose access—"
"We don't," Sico replied immediately. "Not today."
He turned, already issuing orders.
"Dispatch engineering crews," he said to one of the aides. "Interior support only. No one goes outside without Power Armor escort."
"Yes, sir."
"Medical command," he continued, turning to another. "Prep contingency wards in secondary shelters. If transport becomes impossible, we bring care closer to people."
"Understood."
Magnolia stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Settlers' homes?"
Sico looked back toward the window, at the white void swallowing Sanctuary whole.
"We focus on the most vulnerable," he said. "Elderly. Families with children. Anyone in pre-war structures."
"And the rest?"
"We help them after," he replied. "We can't save everything at once."
Magnolia nodded. She understood that kind of choice too well.
The radio crackled again.
"Command," Alpha said, breath audible even through the filters. "Snow drifts are nearly chest-high on us. Visibility's down to less than five meters."
"Pull back if needed," Sico said. "I won't lose a team to pride."
"Copy. We'll keep pushing as long as we can."
The connection faded.
Sico exhaled slowly and finally allowed himself to sit, lowering into the chair beside the wall. The weight hit him all at once that not crushing, but heavy enough to demand respect.
Magnolia remained standing, arms crossed, watching the storm through the narrow window.
"It's hitting harder than projections," she said.
"Yes," Sico replied. "But projections never account for reality."
Outside, Sanctuary groaned.
Snow piled higher against buildings, pressing against doors, weighing down roofs. The wind screamed through alleyways, rattled signs loose, tore at anything not bolted down. Somewhere, metal shrieked as a sheet tore free and vanished into the white.
Inside the shelters, the mood shifted.
Excitement drained away, replaced by quiet tension. Parents pulled children closer. Fires were fed more carefully now, watched closely. Conversations hushed, voices lowered as if loud sounds might provoke the storm further.
At the hospital, lights stayed on, bright and defiant against the gray. Power Armor teams moved like giants through the drifts, shoveling with armored hands, lifting fallen debris, carving narrow paths that were swallowed almost as quickly as they were made.
One of the hospital nurses stood just inside the entrance, watching a Power Armor soldier clear the door again, snow blasting past him in thick waves.
"Thank God for those suits," she murmured.
Inside HQ, Sico listened to report after report.
"Residential Block Seven evacuated."
"Hospital east entrance reopened."
"Roof support holding for now."
Each update was a fragile thread holding Sanctuary together against the storm's weight.
Magnolia leaned closer to Sico.
"If this keeps up overnight," she said quietly, "we'll need to ration heat. Fuel consumption is climbing fast."
Sico nodded. "I'll authorize it if necessary. Controlled reductions. No blackouts."
"And food distribution?" she asked.
"Postpone until the storm breaks," he said. "No unnecessary movement."
She studied him for a moment. "You're calm."
"I have to be," Sico replied. "If I panic, so does everyone else."
Another crack of thunderous sound echoed through the storm, closer this time.
Everyone in the room flinched.
"Structural failure?" someone asked.
Sico was already on the radio.
"Report," he said.
Static. Then Sarah's voice came through, tight but controlled.
"Partial collapse on an unoccupied warehouse roof. No injuries. Debris contained."
Sico closed his eyes briefly.
"Good," he said again, the word becoming a quiet mantra.
Hours dragged on.
The blizzard showed no sign of easing.
Snow climbed higher against the HQ windows, swallowing the lower frames entirely. The outside world narrowed to white and shadow and sound. Even time seemed to slow, measured only by radio updates and the ache settling into Sico's shoulders.
At one point, Magnolia handed him a cup of something hot.
"Drink," she said.
He took it without comment, the warmth seeping into his hands, grounding him.
"Power Team Gamma reporting," the radio crackled suddenly.
Sico looked up. "Go."
"We're assisting Alpha near the hospital," the squad leader said. "Snow accumulation is extreme. We're rotating teams every thirty minutes to prevent system strain."
"Good," Sico said. "Any civilians trapped?"
"Two families found in a partially collapsed home. Evacuated safely."
A murmur of relief rippled through the room.
"Good work," Sico said, meaning it.
The storm pressed on.
Night deepened, though the difference was academic beneath the blizzard's blanket. Sanctuary existed now in pockets of warmth and light, surrounded by endless white.
Sico stood once more and returned to the window.
For a long moment, he simply watched.
He thought of the factory that silent now, machines resting beneath layers of snow. He thought of the coats they'd made, hanging on hooks, wrapped around shoulders, absorbing cold that might otherwise have claimed lives.
He thought of the children he'd seen playing just hours ago.
This was why preparation mattered.
Not for glory.
Not for power.
But for moments like this,when nature reminded them how fragile everything was.
Magnolia joined him again.
"Storm like this would've broken us a year ago," she said quietly.
"Yes," Sico replied. "It would have."
"But it's not," she said.
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
The radio crackled again.
"Command," Alpha reported, voice tired but steady. "Hospital access secured for now. We'll maintain clearance as long as the storm allows."
Sico nodded to himself. "You've done well," he said. "All of you."
Outside, the blizzard roared on, relentless and merciless.
The blizzard did not answer Sico's confidence.
It answered with noise.
The wind screamed harder, hurling snow against the HQ walls with renewed fury, as if offended by the idea that Sanctuary might endure it. The building shuddered faintly, a low vibration through concrete and steel that never quite crossed into danger, but never let anyone forget how close danger really was.
Then the radio crackled again.
Not Alpha this time.
Another channel. Another tone.
"Command… this is Power Team Gamma."
Sico turned immediately, fingers tightening around the radio.
"Go ahead," he said.
There was a brief hiss of interference, then the squad leader's voice came through, more cautious than before, edged with uncertainty rather than exhaustion.
"We've got an additional concern, sir. Our Geiger counters are ticking up. Nothing extreme, but it's noticeable. Radiation levels are elevated compared to baseline."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Magnolia's shoulders stiffened. A medic nearby looked up sharply from their clipboard. One of the analysts muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
Radiation.
In the Commonwealth, that word carried weight. It wasn't panic-inducing on its own, everyone lived with it, breathed it in trace amounts but during a storm like this, it changed the math.
Sico didn't speak right away.
He pressed the radio closer, voice calm, controlled.
"Confirm levels," he said. "Give me numbers."
"Low-grade," Gamma replied. "Comparable to light rad exposure. Not lethal, not immediate danger. But it's rising as the storm intensifies."
Sico closed his eyes for half a second again that not fear, not doubt.
Calculation.
Snowfall patterns.
Prevailing winds.
Old-world contaminants buried beneath the ground, stirred up and carried.
Radiation snow.
Magnolia leaned closer. "We need medical input."
Sico nodded and switched channels without hesitation.
"Curie," he said. "Come in."
There was a pause, longer than usual.
Then Curie's voice answered, clear despite the interference, tinged with her familiar blend of curiosity and concern.
"I am here, President Sico. I am listening."
"We're getting radiation readings from the Power Armor teams," Sico said. "Low-grade, but elevated. What's your assessment?"
Curie didn't answer immediately.
In the hospital, she stood near a window herself, watching snow pile against reinforced glass. Instruments hummed softly around her. Patients lay wrapped in blankets, watched over by staff who trusted her without fully understanding how or why.
She checked a monitor. Then another.
"I am seeing it as well," Curie replied at last. "The snow contains trace radiation, similar in composition to irradiated rainfall we have observed before."
Magnolia frowned. "Rad snow?"
"Yes," Curie said calmly. "But less severe than rad-rain. The particles are dispersed, diluted by the snow's density and temperature. Prolonged exposure outdoors is not recommended for unprotected individuals, but for Power Armor teams, it should remain within safe operational thresholds."
Sico absorbed that.
"Long-term risk?" he asked.
"Minimal," Curie answered. "Especially if exposure is limited. Decontamination procedures after return will suffice."
The tension in the room eased slightly as it's not gone, but manageable.
Sico keyed the radio back to Gamma.
"You heard that?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," Gamma replied. "We copy."
"You're cleared to continue operations for now," Sico said. "But monitor levels closely. The moment it spikes beyond safe range, you pull back."
"Understood."
He paused, then added, "Good work reporting it."
"Thank you, sir."
The channel went quiet again.
Sico lowered the radio slowly.
Radiation had a way of creeping into the edges of people's thoughts, even when the danger was contained. It reminded them that the world they lived in was still broken in ways no amount of planning could fully undo.
Magnolia exhaled through her nose. "One more thing," she said quietly.
"Yes," Sico replied.
"We should keep civilians inside even after the storm stops," she said. "At least until snow levels can be assessed."
Sico nodded. "Agreed."
The blizzard continued.
Snow piled higher, burying fences, swallowing parked vehicles until only vague shapes remained. Power Armor teams moved slower now, conserving energy, focusing on critical points only.
At the hospital, Curie supervised decontamination protocols for anyone who had been near open entrances. Nothing dramatic. No alarms. Just careful, deliberate work.
She moved from bed to bed, offering quiet reassurance, her presence steadying.
"This storm," she said softly to a patient, "is dangerous, yes. But not unbeatable."
Back at HQ, Sico watched the clock without really seeing it.
Minutes dragged.
Then half an hour.
Then more.
The storm howled on, but something shifted.
At first, it was barely noticeable.
The pitch of the wind changed as it's go lower, less shrill. The constant hammering against the walls softened into something closer to a roar than a scream.
Snow still fell, but the flakes grew larger, heavier, drifting downward instead of being flung sideways with violence.
Sico noticed it before anyone said a word.
He leaned toward the window.
The white was still there.
But it wasn't moving the same way.
Magnolia followed his gaze. "Is it—?"
"Easing," Sico said quietly. "Just a little."
The radios confirmed it minutes later.
"Command, Alpha," came the tired voice. "Wind speed dropping. Visibility improving slightly."
Sico felt something loosen in his chest that not relief, not yet.
But hope.
"Maintain positions," he said. "Don't assume it's over."
"Roger."
The next ninety minutes crawled by.
The storm fought to maintain its grip, surging and faltering in waves. Snow still fell thickly, but the wind no longer tore at it with the same cruelty. The sound outside shifted from a deafening roar to a deep, constant rush.
Power Armor teams reported decreasing radiation readings.
"Levels stabilizing," Gamma said. "Dropping slowly."
Curie confirmed it from the hospital.
"Yes," she said over the radio. "The particulate density is decreasing. This is consistent with the storm losing strength."
Sico closed his eyes and let himself breathe, just a little.
Then, finally.
Silence.
Not complete silence. Not peace.
But the wind stopped screaming.
The suddenness of it was almost unsettling.
Snow still fell, but gently now, drifting down in lazy spirals. The violent sideways sheets were gone. The pressure against the walls eased. The building stopped vibrating.
People noticed all at once.
Conversations halted.
Heads turned instinctively toward windows and doors.
Magnolia whispered, "It's stopping."
Sico moved to the window again.
Sanctuary re-emerged slowly, like a world surfacing from underwater. Shapes sharpened. Light poles became visible again, their halos no longer swallowed immediately. The outlines of buildings returned, buried but standing.
The blizzard had not vanished, but it had broken.
The radio crackled one last time.
"Command," Alpha reported. "Storm intensity has dropped significantly. Wind nearly gone."
Sico lifted the radio.
"All Power Armor teams," he said, voice steady but warm now. "You've done your jobs. Begin return to Army HQ. Full decontamination on arrival."
There was a brief pause, then replies came in, one by one.
"Copy."
"Understood."
"Returning."
Sico lowered the radio and leaned his forehead briefly against the cold glass.
One and a half hours later than it could have been.
One and a half hours earlier than it might have been.
They had endured.
Outside, doors began to open cautiously. Faces appeared at windows. People stepped out into knee-deep snow, blinking at the quiet like survivors emerging from a bunker after a bombing.
Children were the first to break the tension.
A laugh rang out.
Then another.
Someone stepped into the snow and promptly sank, yelping as others laughed.
Sanctuary breathed again.
But Sico didn't move yet.
Magnolia stood beside him.
"We made it," she said softly.
"Yes," Sico replied.
They stayed where they was, watching Power Armor silhouettes lumber back toward HQ through calmer snow, watching the settlement reclaim itself inch by inch.
________________________________________________
• Name: Sico
• Stats :
S: 8,44
P: 7,44
E: 8,44
C: 8,44
I: 9,44
A: 7,45
L: 7
• Skills: advance Mechanic, Science, and Shooting skills, intermediate Medical, Hand to Hand Combat, Lockpicking, Hacking, Persuasion, and Drawing Skills
• Inventory: 53.280 caps, 10mm Pistol, 1500 10mm rounds, 22 mole rats meat, 17 mole rats teeth, 1 fragmentation grenade, 6 stimpak, 1 rad x, 6 fusion core, computer blueprint, modern TV blueprint, camera recorder blueprint, 1 set of combat armor, Automatic Assault Rifle, 1.500 5.56mm rounds, power armor T51 blueprint, Electric Motorcycle blueprint, T-45 power armor, Minigun, 1.000 5mm rounds, Cryolator, 200 cryo cell, Machine Gun Turret Mk1 blueprint, electric car blueprint, Kellogg gun, Righteous Authority, Ashmaker, Furious Power Fist, Full set combat armor blueprint, M240 7.62mm machine guns blueprint, Automatic Assault Rifle blueprint, and Humvee blueprint.
• Active Quest:-