If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And for the first time in a long time, the sky above Sanctuary didn't feel like something to fear.
Then a month passed.
Not in a blur.
Not in a rush.
But in a steady, deliberate rhythm that Sanctuary had learned to live by.
Day by day.
Patrol by patrol.
Training flight by training flight.
The Commonwealth didn't change overnight, but it began to feel different. Safer in places where it hadn't been before. More connected. Less alone.
And above it all, there was the sound.
That steady, familiar thrum that now rolled across the sky at different hours of the day that sometimes in pairs, sometimes in singles, sometimes in tight formations of three as the vertibirds cutting paths across the Commonwealth not as a symbol of fear, but of protection.
A month ago, they had two.
Now.
Sico stood at the edge of the hangar field, hands resting lightly behind his back, looking out at a line of machines that had grown into something else entirely.
Fifteen vertibirds.
Fifteen.
The number still carried weight when he let himself think about it.
They were arranged in two long rows outside the hangar and partially within it, their frames catching the light of the morning sun. Some bore fresh paint and newly marked insignias that clean, sharp symbols of the Freemasons Republic. The vertibirds are the result from the hands of mechanics who had worked day and night to bring them to life.
Each one represented hours of labor.
Coordination.
Parts scavenged from dangerous places.
Teams working together.
And above all, purpose.
Sico's eyes moved slowly down the line.
From the original bird.
To the one they had first built.
To the prototype that had become the template.
To the ones that followed.
Each one a step forward.
Each one a responsibility.
Behind him, the hangar was alive with motion.
Voices.
Tools.
Metal against metal.
The smell of oil and heat.
And the low, ever-present echo of rotors spinning somewhere above as another patrol returned or another training flight prepared to lift off.
"Clear the intake, keep that panel steady—"
"Watch the rotor clearance—"
"Fuel line secure, check it again—"
The mechanics moved with practiced coordination now. What had once been uncertain, experimental, was now routine.
Structured.
Efficient.
On the far side of the field, one of the vertibirds was already warming up, its rotors beginning their slow rotation as dust lifted gently from the ground around it.
And just beyond that.
Callahan stood with a new group of trainees.
Sico shifted his attention toward them.
The new batch.
Fresh faces.
Some younger.
Some older.
All of them carrying that same mixture of excitement and tension that the first group had shown weeks ago.
Callahan stood in front of them, arms loosely at his sides, his presence calm but commanding in a way that had grown more defined over the past month.
He had changed.
Not in personality.
But in weight.
Responsibility had settled onto him, and he had accepted it fully.
He spoke to the trainees in a measured, steady tone.
"Up there," he said, gesturing toward the sky, "you don't get second chances because you didn't pay attention the first time."
The trainees stood in a loose line, listening closely.
"You will learn to trust the machine," Callahan continued, "but you will never rely on it blindly. You will learn to trust your crew, but you will never assume they will fix your mistakes. You are responsible for what happens in that cockpit."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"Out there," he added, "there are people depending on you from people you will never meet, people you will never know. But when they call for help, you will be the difference between them living and dying."
The wind shifted slightly, carrying his words across the field.
Sico watched quietly.
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't need to.
Because this was exactly why he had chosen him.
From the far side, another figure approached.
Harris.
He moved with a relaxed but purposeful stride, a datapad in one hand, headset resting around his neck. There was something different about him too now that not just a pilot, not just a trainee anymore.
Second in command.
Callahan's right hand.
Sico had watched that transition over the month as well.
Callahan hadn't just accepted the role of leading the air force as he had built structure beneath him.
He had appointed Harris as his second.
And Harris had grown into it.
Fast.
He stopped beside Callahan, waiting for a natural break in the instruction.
Callahan finished his sentence, then turned his head slightly.
"Harris," he acknowledged.
"Morning," Harris replied, handing him the datapad. "Flight rotation updated. Veteran crews assigned to outer perimeter patrols. New trainees cycling through inner loops."
Callahan glanced at the screen, nodding once.
"Good," he said. "Any issues?"
"Minor mechanical delay on bird twelve," Harris replied. "Nothing critical. Maintenance has it under control."
Callahan gave a short nod.
"Keep me updated."
"Yes, sir."
The trainees watched the exchange, seeing the structure, the chain of command, the way information moved smoothly without chaos.
Callahan turned back to them.
"Pair up," he instructed. "You'll be assigned to experienced crews for your first runs. You observe first. You don't touch controls unless instructed. You ask questions when we're on the ground, not when we're in the air."
A few of the trainees nodded quickly.
"Yes, sir."
"Move."
They broke formation, stepping toward the assigned aircraft where veteran crews were already preparing for the day's training flights.
Callahan watched them disperse, then exhaled slowly, rolling one shoulder slightly as if easing tension that had settled there.
Sico began walking toward him.
Callahan noticed him approaching and straightened slightly, though his posture remained natural.
"Sico," he greeted.
"Callahan," Sico replied.
For a moment, they both looked out across the field.
At the vertibirds.
At the crews.
At the trainees climbing into seats that, a month ago, they wouldn't have even dared to touch.
"You've built this well," Sico said.
Callahan shook his head lightly.
"We've built it," he corrected.
Sico didn't argue.
But he didn't let the weight of Callahan's role diminish either.
"You've led it," he said.
Callahan glanced at him, then back toward the field.
"They've earned it," he said quietly, nodding toward the veteran crews. "First batch's solid now. They've seen real patrols. Real engagements. They know what it means when the radio calls come in."
Sico followed his gaze.
The first batch.
They moved differently now.
More confident.
More grounded.
Not reckless.
Not overconfident.
Just experienced.
"You made Harris your second," Sico said.
Callahan nodded.
"He's got the instincts for it," he said. "Good under pressure. Communicates clearly. Doesn't freeze when things go sideways."
Sico looked toward Harris, who was now speaking with one of the mechanics about a checklist.
"Yes," Sico said. "I've seen that."
Callahan folded his arms lightly.
"I can't be everywhere," he added. "With fifteen birds now, we need structure. Clear command. Clear rotation."
Sico nodded once.
"You have it," he said.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching as one of the vertibirds lifted off slowly, rotors beating the air in steady rhythm as it rose above the field and angled toward the outer perimeter.
The sound rolled across the settlement again.
Familiar.
Reassuring.
Sico spoke again after a moment.
"A month ago, we were testing if this could work," he said.
Callahan let out a quiet breath.
"Now we know it does," he replied.
Sico's eyes remained on the sky.
"And now we maintain it," he said.
Callahan gave a small, firm nod.
"We will."
From the edge of the field, Preston approached, hands resting on his hips as he took in the sight of the vertibirds lined up in formation.
"Every time I come out here," he said, "there's more of them."
Sico allowed a faint hint of a smile.
"That's the idea," he said.
Preston looked at Callahan.
"How's the new batch?" he asked.
Callahan exhaled through his nose slightly.
"Eager," he said. "Rough edges. But they'll get there."
Preston nodded.
"They always do," he said.
Sarah approached a moment later, a set of documents tucked under her arm, her gaze already moving across the field as she assessed movement, timing, logistics.
"Fuel consumption's up twelve percent compared to last week," she said as she reached them. "But patrol coverage has increased by nearly thirty."
Sico looked at her.
"Acceptable," he said.
She nodded.
"Agreed. Maintenance rotation is holding. No critical failures."
Callahan listened, then added, "We'll need another storage unit for spare parts within the next two weeks at this rate."
Sarah made a note.
"I'll have it arranged."
They stood together for a moment.
Command.
Air.
Ground.
Logistics.
All in one place.
Working.
From across the field, the next training vertibird began to lift off, a veteran pilot guiding it smoothly upward as a trainee sat beside them, watching, learning, absorbing every movement.
The Commonwealth stretched out beyond Sanctuary.
Still dangerous.
Still unpredictable.
But not untouched anymore.
Not unreachable.
Sico looked out toward that horizon.
"We keep building," he said quietly.
Callahan followed his gaze.
"We keep flying," he replied.
Preston folded his arms, a small, satisfied look settling across his face.
"And we keep them safe," he added.
Sarah closed her folder, tucking it back under her arm.
"Together," she said.
Above them, another vertibird crossed the sky.
Its shadow moved over the ground in a long, gliding sweep, sliding across the rows of machines, across the mechanics working below, across the boots of the people who now lived beneath its protection. The rotors hummed in that steady, familiar rhythm that Sanctuary had come to recognize as reassurance more than noise.
Sico watched it for a moment longer than the others.
Then he turned away.
"Let's bring them in," he said.
Sarah didn't need clarification.
She already knew who.
Within the hour, the four of them were gathered again, but this time not out in the open under the sun, not among the noise of engines and tools, but inside the command room where decisions took shape.
The room had changed over the last month too.
The central table was now larger, reinforced with a metal frame. The map that covered it had been updated with new markings with air corridors, expanded patrol zones, supply routes, new settlements that had come under Freemasons protection. Pins, markers, and colored lines crossed the surface like veins of a living system.
Walls that had once held simple notes now displayed structured boards from flight rotations, maintenance cycles, ground unit assignments, radio frequencies, response protocols.
Everything more organized.
More defined.
More ready.
Sico stood at the head of the table.
Sarah took her place on his right, already opening her folder and laying out fresh documents.
Preston stood on the left side of the table, arms loosely crossed, eyes moving across the map, already thinking in routes and terrain.
Callahan stood opposite Sico, posture straight but not rigid, his hands resting lightly on the table edge as his eyes traced the same lines of the Commonwealth that he had been flying over day after day.
For a moment, no one spoke.
They all looked at the map.
At what they had.
At what they were about to change.
Then Sico began.
"We've proven that the air works," he said, voice calm but carrying weight. "We've proven that we can respond faster, protect better, and project presence where we couldn't before."
Callahan gave a small nod.
"Yes," he said. "We've seen the difference."
Preston added quietly, "Ground units feel it too. Knowing the birds are overhead changes how they move. They're more confident. They can hold positions they couldn't before."
Sarah slid a document across the table.
"And our coverage area has expanded by nearly forty percent in the last month," she said. "We are reaching places we simply couldn't reach before."
Sico nodded once.
"Then we adapt the structure to match the capability," he said.
He reached forward, placing his hand lightly on the map.
"Right now," he continued, "our patrol teams are structured the way they were before we had air support."
He glanced at Preston.
"Four Growlers. Two Humvees. Two trucks. One Sentinel tank."
Preston nodded.
"Standard layout," he confirmed.
Sico looked at Callahan.
"That was before," he said.
Callahan understood immediately.
"And now we integrate the air," he said.
Sico gave a slight nod.
"Yes."
Sarah leaned forward slightly, pen ready.
"Let's define it clearly," she said.
Sico straightened, looking at all three of them.
"From this point forward," he said, "each patrol team will consist of four Growlers, two Humvees, two trucks, one Sentinel tank…"
He paused for just a fraction of a second.
"…and two vertibirds."
The words settled into the room.
Not surprising.
But significant.
Preston let out a slow breath through his nose, then nodded.
"That gives them eyes above, fire support, and rapid evac," he said. "They won't be boxed in again like Delta was."
Callahan's mind was already moving through the logistics.
"Two birds per patrol team," he said. "One forward overwatch, one rear or flank support. Rotating positions depending on terrain."
Sarah wrote it down quickly, already structuring the schedule in her mind.
"That means we'll need to adjust flight rotations," she said. "We'll need to ensure that no patrol goes out without confirmed air assignment."
Callahan nodded.
"I can build that into the schedule," he said. "Veteran crews paired with each patrol. New trainees rotate in as secondary observers until they're cleared."
Sico looked at him.
"Clear them only when you are certain," he said.
"I will," Callahan replied without hesitation.
Preston leaned forward, placing both hands on the table.
"We also need to think about communication," he said. "Ground and air need clear, constant lines. No confusion in the middle of a fight."
Sarah nodded.
"I'll standardize radio channels for each patrol unit," she said. "Dedicated frequency for ground-air coordination. Secondary backup channel in case of interference."
Callahan added, "And visual markers. Smoke, flares. Standard colors so the birds can identify friendly positions instantly."
Sico nodded once.
"Good," he said. "Make it standard across all units."
He shifted slightly, tracing a route on the map with his finger.
"This is one of our main southern patrol routes," he said. "Where Delta was hit."
Preston's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at it.
"They were vulnerable there because of the overpass structure," he said. "Limited sight lines."
Callahan leaned in.
"With air overhead, that blind spot disappears," he said. "We can see movement before it reaches them."
Sarah wrote another note.
"Then that route becomes one of the first to implement the new structure," she said.
Sico nodded.
"Yes," he said. "We start with high-risk routes."
Preston straightened slightly.
"And then expand it across the rest," he said.
Callahan folded his arms lightly.
"We have fifteen birds now," he said. "We can support multiple patrol teams simultaneously, but we need to stagger deployment times to keep coverage continuous."
Sarah nodded.
"I'll adjust the schedule accordingly," she said. "No gaps in coverage."
Sico looked between them.
"This isn't just about adding more machines," he said. "It's about building a system that works every time."
There was a quiet agreement in the room.
Because they had all heard what happened when it didn't.
Sico continued.
"Each patrol team will be treated as a combined unit," he said. "Ground and air operating together, planning together, training together."
Callahan nodded.
"I'll have pilots briefed with ground team leaders before every patrol," he said. "They need to know the terrain, the routes, the fallback positions."
Preston added, "And the ground teams will train with the birds with practice marking positions and practice moving under air cover."
Sarah looked up from her notes.
"That means extended training cycles," she said.
Sico met her gaze.
"Then we extend them," he said simply.
No one argued.
Because the reason was clear.
Lives.
Out there, beyond the walls of Sanctuary.
Lives that depended on this working exactly the way it was supposed to.
Sico leaned slightly over the table.
"We're not reacting anymore," he said quietly. "We are controlling the field."
The words hung in the air.
Not as arrogance.
As intention.
Preston nodded slowly.
"That's how we keep people alive," he said.
Callahan looked down at the map again, then back up.
"Two vertibirds per patrol team," he said again, almost as if locking it into place. "Forward overwatch and rear guard. Rotating if needed."
Sarah added, "Standardized comms. Standardized signals. Scheduled rotations."
Preston finished, "And combined training."
Sico looked at all of them.
"This is how we move forward," he said.
He straightened fully.
"Sarah," he said, "update all operational schedules. Implement the new patrol structure immediately for high-risk zones, then phase it across all patrols within two weeks."
"Yes," she said.
"Preston," he continued, "brief all ground unit leaders. I want them ready to operate with air support as a standard, not an exception."
Preston nodded.
"I'll start today," he said.
"Callahan," Sico said, turning to him, "adjust flight rotations, assign veteran crews to each patrol, and ensure every pilot understands that they are part of the ground team now."
Callahan met his gaze.
"They will," he said.
Sico held his eyes for a moment longer, then gave a small, approving nod.
"Good."
The meeting could have ended there.
The orders had been given.
The structure defined.
But no one moved immediately.
Because they all understood what this meant.
This wasn't a small adjustment.
This was a shift in how they operated.
How they protected the Commonwealth.
How they showed up when people called for help.
Preston let out a slow breath.
"Two vertibirds per patrol," he said again, almost with a hint of quiet satisfaction. "If someone gets in trouble now…"
"They won't be alone," Callahan finished.
Sarah closed her folder, her expression thoughtful but steady.
"Response time will drop significantly," she said. "Casualty rates should decrease."
Sico looked down at the map one last time.
At the lines.
At the zones.
At the places where people lived and worked and hoped that someone would come if they needed help.
"Then we do it," he said.
He stepped back from the table.
The others did the same.
The meeting was over.
But the room didn't empty all at once.
For a few seconds, the four of them just stood there around the table, each of them looking at the map one last time, letting the weight of what they had just set in motion settle into place.
Fifteen vertibirds.
Combined patrol units.
A system that no longer reacted too late, but moved ahead of danger.
Sico's eyes moved slowly across the colored lines one final time.
Then he stepped back.
"Get it moving," he said quietly.
Sarah gave a small nod and gathered her documents, already flipping through pages as she mentally began reorganizing schedules and supply chains.
Preston pushed himself upright and headed toward the door, already thinking about which unit leaders he needed to speak to first, which routes needed to be briefed immediately.
Callahan remained for a second longer, glancing once more at the patrol zones that his pilots would soon be flying over as part of something larger than themselves.
Then he turned as well, leaving the room with purpose.
Within moments, the command room was quieter again.
Not empty, but quieter.
Sico stayed where he was for a few seconds longer.
Then he exhaled slowly, turned, and walked out into the corridor.
There were still things to check.
Always.
He didn't rush.
He walked with the same steady pace he always did, boots echoing lightly against the floor as he moved through the heart of Sanctuary.
Outside, the air carried that familiar mixture of sounds now from voices, tools, distant rotors, movement.
Life.
Work.
Purpose.
He stepped out into the sunlight and angled his path toward the farms.
Toward Jenny.
The Sanctuary farm stretched wide and green in a way that still felt strange if someone thought too hard about it.
Because the Commonwealth didn't usually look like this anymore.
Rows of crops stood in long, carefully tended lines. Corn, mutfruit, tatos as all growing under watchful hands that had learned how to coax life out of difficult soil.
Water pumps hummed quietly nearby, pulling clean water from underground reserves they had secured weeks ago.
A few settlers moved between rows, checking leaves, adjusting irrigation lines, pulling weeds.
And in the middle of it, sleeves rolled up and hands deep in the work as always, was Jenny.
She was kneeling beside a row of mutfruit when Sico approached, carefully checking the underside of a leaf for signs of rot or infestation.
She didn't notice him at first.
He didn't announce himself.
He just watched for a moment.
Watched the care in her movements.
The way she treated each plant like it mattered.
Because it did.
Every one of them.
It meant food.
It meant survival.
It meant stability.
After a few seconds, she felt the presence and looked up.
When she saw him, she gave a small smile.
"Sico," she said, pushing a loose strand of hair back with the back of her wrist. "You're out here early."
He nodded slightly.
"Needed to check on things," he said. "How are the crops?"
Jenny shifted, rising to her feet and brushing dirt lightly from her hands.
"Better than last week," she said. "We had a bit of blight starting on the north rows, but we caught it early. Cut it out before it spread."
She gestured toward the rows behind her.
"Mutfruit's holding strong. Tatos are a little slower this cycle, but still within expected yield."
Sico stepped closer, looking over the rows himself.
"Corn?" he asked.
Jenny gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Corn's doing well," she said. "Better soil mix this time. We adjusted the fertilizer ratio like Mel suggested."
Sico gave a faint nod.
"Water supply?" he asked.
"Stable," she replied. "We've got enough stored for two weeks even if something goes wrong with the pumps."
That answer mattered.
Sico's gaze moved across the farm again.
"How much are we producing now?" he asked.
Jenny folded her arms lightly, thinking for a moment.
"Enough to feed Sanctuary comfortably," she said. "And we've got surplus for trade or emergency stock."
She glanced at him.
"We're not rationing anymore," she added quietly.
That was a change.
A real one.
Sico let that sit for a second.
"Good," he said.
Jenny studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"You've been busy," she said. "The birds… people talk about them all the time."
Sico looked out toward the sky briefly.
"They're doing their job," he said.
"They make people feel safer," Jenny said. "You can see it. People sleep better."
Sico nodded once.
"That's the goal," he said.
Jenny hesitated for a second, then asked, "You need anything from us? Anything we should be preparing for?"
Sico shook his head lightly.
"Keep doing what you're doing," he said. "Maintain surplus. Keep reserves stocked."
Jenny nodded.
"We will."
There was a moment of quiet between them.
Wind moving gently across the crops.
Leaves rustling softly.
Then Sico gave a small nod.
"Good work," he said.
Jenny's smile warmed slightly.
"Thank you," she replied.
He turned and walked back toward the main settlement.
Next stop.
Administration.
The Administration Building stood next to the Freemason HQ and look solid at the center of Sanctuary's operational heart.
Not as loud as the hangars.
Not as open as the farms.
But just as important.
Because this was where resources flowed.
Where caps came in and went out.
Where trade was tracked.
Where decisions were balanced between what they had and what they needed.
Inside, the air was cooler, quieter.
Papers.
Ledgers.
Voices in low tones.
And behind a central desk, sorting through a stack of records with practiced ease, was Magnolia.
She looked up as Sico entered.
"President," she said, with a half-smile that carried a hint of the stage presence she never quite lost. "Come to check if I'm stealing all your caps?"
Sico's mouth twitched faintly at the corner.
"If you were," he said, "you'd be doing a better job hiding it."
Magnolia laughed softly, setting her pen down.
"Fair," she said. "So. What do you need?"
Sico stepped closer, resting one hand lightly on the edge of the desk.
"Status," he said. "Inflow. Outflow."
Magnolia turned one of the ledgers toward him, flipping it open.
"Trade's up," she said. "Between the farms producing surplus and the increased patrol coverage, caravans feel safer coming through."
She pointed to a column of numbers.
"Caps coming in from trade have increased by about twenty percent over the last two weeks."
Sico scanned the page briefly.
"Outflow?" he asked.
Magnolia flipped to another section.
"Also up," she said. "Fuel, spare parts for the vertibirds, ammunition, maintenance supplies."
She tapped the page lightly.
"But we're still positive," she added. "We're not bleeding resources. We're building."
Sico nodded slowly.
"Reserves?" he asked.
Magnolia smiled slightly.
"Healthy," she said. "We could sustain current operations for several months even without additional income."
That mattered.
Sico looked up at her.
"Any concerns?" he asked.
Magnolia leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.
"Just one," she said. "As we expand patrol coverage and air operations, our fuel demand is going to keep increasing."
She met his eyes.
"We'll need to secure a more stable long-term fuel source sooner rather than later."
Sico nodded once.
"I'm aware," he said. "We're working on that."
Magnolia studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"I figured you were," she said.
She closed the ledger gently.
"Otherwise," she added, "we're in a good place. Better than we've ever been."
Sico allowed himself a small, quiet nod.
"Good," he said.
Magnolia smiled.
"You've built something solid here," she said.
Sico didn't respond to that directly.
Instead, he said, "Keep the records clean. Track everything."
Magnolia gave a small salute with two fingers.
"Always do," she said.
Sico turned and headed for the door.
One more stop.
The Police HQ had once been just a small security office.
Now it was something more defined.
More structured.
More official.
A place where disputes were handled.
Where reports were filed.
Where safety inside Sanctuary was maintained that not just from outside threats, but from within.
Inside, a few officers moved between desks, sorting reports, checking patrol notes.
And at the center of it all, reviewing a file with that familiar, calm focus, was Nick Valentine.
Sico had appointed him Chief of Police not long ago.
And Nick had taken to it with the same steady, grounded sense of duty he brought to everything.
Nick looked up as Sico entered.
"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour," he said, voice carrying that dry, familiar tone. "To what do I owe the visit?"
Sico stepped inside, glancing briefly around the room.
"Checking in," he said. "How's the crime level?"
Nick leaned back slightly in his chair, setting the file down.
"Low," he said. "Lower than it's ever been, if I'm being honest."
Sico watched him.
"Details," he said.
Nick nodded.
"Most of what we're dealing with now are minor disputes," he said. "Property disagreements, the occasional bar fight, small theft cases."
He tapped the file lightly.
"Nothing organized. Nothing coordinated."
Sico nodded once.
"External infiltration?" he asked.
Nick shook his head.
"None detected," he said. "Your patrol coverage is doing a good job of keeping trouble from getting close to the gates."
Sico folded his arms lightly.
"And internally?" he asked.
Nick gave a small, thoughtful shrug.
"People feel safer," he said. "When people feel safe, they're less likely to cause problems."
He leaned forward slightly.
"That said," he added, "we're not getting complacent. Patrols inside Sanctuary are still active. Officers are visible. People know we're watching."
Sico nodded.
"Good," he said.
Nick studied him for a moment.
"You're building something here," he said quietly. "Something that actually works."
Sico met his gaze.
"That's the plan," he said.
Nick gave a small, approving nod.
"Well," he said, "from where I'm sitting, it's working."
There was a moment of quiet between them.
Then Nick added, with a faint hint of a smile, "And for the record, I don't miss chasing down raiders every night."
Sico's expression didn't quite become a smile.
But it softened slightly.
"Good," he said.
He turned to leave, then paused for a fraction of a second.
"Keep it that way," he said.
Nick gave a small nod.
"Count on it."
Sico stepped back out into the light.
The day was still moving.
Work still ongoing.
Rotors still turning somewhere above.
He paused for a moment outside the Police HQ, looking out across Sanctuary.
The farms.
The hangars.
The homes.
The people.
Everything moving together in a system that, day by day, was becoming stronger.
More stable.
More capable.
He let out a slow breath.
Then he started walking again.
Because there was always more to do, with always more to build. And now, they had the means to protect it.
______________________________________________
• 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:-