They reached the old section—a nexus of outdated labs where the second teleportation relay hummed faintly in a side chamber, its console linked to the abandoned FEV lab beyond, Virgil's former domain of twisted science. The relay's blue glow flickered under the red lights, a beacon of potential salvation amid the alarm's wail.
Sarah halted, her M590 shotgun resting easy in her grip. "Good—an opportunity as well. Nate, lend me two of your Minutemen to stay with Mayling. This will be the escape route for civilians and for us. Mayling, collect all data from that FEV lab while you're at it. Anything on super mutants, virals—wipe it clean if you can."
Nate nodded without hesitation, gesturing to two of his squad—a burly veteran with a scarred face and a younger recruit clutching her laser rifle tightly. "You two—stay with Sarah's technician. If you see any evacuees, disarm them before directing them to the teleport. we can't take the risk."
The two Minutemen saluted sharply, boots snapping together. "Yes, General."
Mayling grinned, shifting her massive toolbox—brimming with pliers, scanners, and a compact pistol at her belt—her white shirt and gray vest already smudged from the tunnels. "On it, Commander. Data grab and babysitting—piece of cake."
With the relay secured, the group pressed on into the Bioscience proper, the corridor widening into a hydroponics farm: rows of glowing tanks and artificial lights nurturing clean, vibrant crops—mutfruit vines climbing trellises, corn stalks swaying gently in the recycled air. Scientists in white coats scattered like startled radroaches as the intruders burst in, their faces pale with panic, tools clattering to the floor as they fled toward side doors.
Preston's eyes widened at the sight of the immaculate farm, the plants thriving in controlled perfection. "They grow their own farm clean—WOAH!"
His exclamation was cut short as the defenses activated—wall turrets unfolding from concealed panels with mechanical whirs, their barrels glowing red as they tracked the group. Synth guards materialized in blue flashes, Gen 2 models with laser rifles spitting bolts, Coursers blinking forward with disruptor blades extended. "Intruders detected—eliminate!" one droned, the corridor erupting into a storm of crimson fire.
"Contacts—multiple!" HK416 barked, her assault rifle chattering as she dropped a turret in a shower of sparks, its barrel exploding mid-spin. The team dove for cover—Nate and Preston behind a hydroponics tank, water sloshing as lasers scorched its edge; Sarah rolling left, her M590 booming to pulp a Synth's chest, synthetic guts spraying across the clean floor.
The Minutemen opened up, their lasers flashing in unison—Preston picking off a Gen 3 with a headshot, its frame crumpling mid-charge; a militiaman yelling as he blasted a turret, only for a Courser's blade to graze his arm, drawing blood. "Dang, there's so many of them!" another Minuteman shouted, ducking a beam that vaporized a mutfruit vine behind him.
UMP45 and UMP9 pushed forward, their SMGs rattling—UMP45 shredding a pair of Synths that lunged from an alcove, their lasers misfiring as they fell; UMP9 dodging a disruptor slash, countering with a burst that dropped the Courser in a heap. G11 yawned amid the din, her suppressive fire pinning a turret long enough for HK416 to flank it, a grenade arcing to blast it from its mount in a fireball.
Then—
The glass cage shattered.
A reinforced containment enclosure at the center of the room exploded outward in a storm of crystal and metal. The ground shook as something huge slammed down among the crops.
The massive gorilla roared.
Its massive muscle tore free of containment restraints, it's red eyes flaring as it swung an it's big fist and sent a hydroponic rack flying into the far wall.
"HOLY JESUS, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" a Minuteman yelled.
"They're even create living animal?," Sarah said coldly. "Do not let it get close!"
Too late.
The gorilla charged.
It barreled straight into UMP9, sending her skidding across the floor. UMP45 fired point-blank into its torso, rounds sparking off reinforced plating as it backhanded her through a planter.
HK416 braced and fired controlled bursts into its joints—ineffective. The rounds barely slowed it.
G11 sighed, stood, and opened up with her assault rifle.
The sustained fire finally got its attention.
The gorilla roared again and leapt, landing in the middle of Team 404 with crushing force. The floor cracked. Plants and water sprayed everywhere.
Sarah stepped forward.
Her Mossberg thundered.
The slug punched into the gorilla's knee joint, blowing it apart in a spray of tissue and synthetic muscle. The beast collapsed to one side, smashing another rack—but still tried to rise.
"Neck!" Sarah barked.
HK416 didn't hesitate.
She emptied the rest of her magazine straight into the base of the creature's skull. The gorilla convulsed once, eyes dart around wildly—then went dark, collapsing into the puddle of water and broken hydroponic plants.
Silence followed, broken only by dripping water and lab alarms.
The remaining Synth guards faltered.
Minutemen surged forward, overwhelming them in seconds.
Scientists dropped to their knees, hands raised, shaking.
Nate turned, already moving back toward the relay.
"Preston—secure the civilians. Do not execute them. put them down only they resist."
Preston nodded grimly. "You heard him. Weapons on the floor."
As soon as Minutemen stack up at the door to the central hub, it suddenly slid open with a hydraulic hiss.
And the hell let loose.
The moment the seal broke, laser fire erupted from inside the chamber—crimson bolts screaming through the opening and slamming into the corridor walls. White polymer scorched black instantly. A Minuteman at the front took a hit to the chest and dropped without a sound.
"CONTACT—FRONT! ENGAGE" UMP45 shouted, dragging UMP9 back as another volley ripped through the doorway.
Nate slammed a fist against the wall and ducked low. "DAMMIT! Central hub's hot—take cover!"
Team 404 reacted in perfect synchronization.
HK416 snapped to the doorframe, leaning out just long enough to place precise bursts into visible muzzle flashes across the hub. Turrets above the entrance whirred to life—she took one out mid-deployment, the second detonating as G11 lazily stitched the ceiling with sustained fire.
Inside, the central hub revealed itself in fragments through smoke and laser fire—a massive circular chamber, tiered walkways rising around a glowing reactor core, Synths dug in behind modular cover on multiple levels.
Then the Coursers moved.
Stealth fields shimmered—almost invisible distortions in the air. One appeared inside the doorway in a blink of blue light, disruptor blade flashing—
Sarah fired.
Her Mossberg roared, the slug catching the Courser mid-step and hurling it backward in a spray of shattered synth-flesh. Another Courser decloaked above, firing downward—three Minutemen were hit in seconds. One screamed as his leg went out from under him; another collapsed, unmoving.
"Stealth units—multiple!" HK416 barked.
The Minutemen tried to push through the door—and paid for it. A heavy synth's minigun spun up across the chamber, pinning them instantly. One man fell. Another crawled back trailing blood.
Nate swore and ducked behind a shattered planter. "Sturges, I need reinforcements now— We're pinned at central hub!"
The answer came not in words—but in light.
The relay flared inside the hub itself, blue energy forcing Synths to stagger back as two armored figures materialized in the middle of the chamber.
Brotherhood of Steel.
At their head—Knight Brandis.
He hit the ground firing, laser rifle carving a straight line through a synth heavy's chest and blowing it apart. The Paladin beside him opened up with a gatling laser, red beams tearing through cover and forcing Synths to scatter.
Brandis advanced through the fire like it wasn't there.
He turned briefly toward the doorway, recognition flashing as he spotted Sarah.
"…We meet again," he said evenly. "Thank you. For helping me from our last encounter."
Then he snapped back to the fight.
"General Nate," Brandis called over comms as he fired, "Elder Maxson is en route. I'll support you until then."
A Courser decloaked behind him, blade raised.
Sarah didn't shout.
She fired.
The slug staggered the Courser just long enough for Brandis to pivot and crush its skull with a power-fist strike, the impact echoing through the hub.
"Stealth threats are neutralized," Brandis reported calmly. "I recommend combine push."
"404—go!" Sarah ordered.
UMP45 and UMP9 surged through the doorway, grenades arcing upward to the walkways. Explosions tore Synths from cover, bodies tumbling over railings. G11 set up near the threshold and unleashed sustained fire, chewing open firing lanes.
HK416 moved with surgical precision, picking off exposed Coursers as their stealth flickered.
Minutemen followed behind the Brotherhood's steel wall, returning fire with renewed confidence.
The central hub—once the Institute's unassailable crossroads—began to crack under pressure, alarms screaming louder as Synths fell and the attackers finally forced their way inside.
The last echoes of gunfire faded into the hum of the Institute's systems, broken consoles sparking weakly as smoke drifted upward toward the vaulted ceiling of the central hub. Synth bodies lay scattered across the white floor—silent now, inert, their precision undone by grit and blood.
A sharp click echoed through every speaker in the complex.
Then Sturges' voice came over the public announcement system, distorted but steady.
"Uh—General? Commander Sarah? You're gonna wanna hear this."
Nate looked up, already knowing it wouldn't be good news.
"The power generator seem to be behind the Advanced Systems section," Sturges continued. "but as you can see, all sections, Advanced Systems—Robotics, SRB access, Residential—locked down hard. And the stairwells? Sealed tighter than a Vault."
A pause. Keys clacked faintly in the background.
"Only way through is the Director's personal terminal. Shaun's."
The truth of it settled like a weight.
Around them, the Institute closed itself—bulkheads sliding shut with final, resonant thuds. Doors that once opened at a glance now flashed red. Elevators froze mid-shaft. The place wasn't panicking anymore.
It was circling the wagons.
UMP45 whistled softly as she approached the tall, cylindrical glass structure at the center of the hub—a sleek elevator shaft running straight up through the Institute's spine. She tapped at a concealed interface panel, fingers dancing with casual confidence.
The glass chimed.
The elevator doors slid open just enough to reveal a cramped interior.
"Oh," UMP45 said, peering inside. "this elevator works. But… yeah, this thing's built for maybe two people. Three if you like awkward hugs."
Nate didn't hesitate.
"I'll go alone," he said.
Preston spun on him instantly. "What? General—no. You can't just walk in there by yourself. Even he is your son. he probably have his guards stacked and ready."
"I know," Nate replied quietly. He stepped closer to the elevator, eyes fixed upward, toward where the Director waited. "That's why it has to be me."
Silence followed.
Another relay flare lit the hub as two more Minutemen teleported in—fresh, tense, weapons already up. Sarah took that in immediately. She could feel it too: the Institute wasn't done yet. Another counterattack was coming. Soon.
She turned to Preston, her expression unreadable—but her voice, softer than usual.
"Have faith, Preston."
He looked at her, torn between command and fear.
"This isn't a battle," Sarah continued. "This is a father and son's last reunion."
Preston swallowed, jaw tight. "…Then we'll make sure nothing interrupts it."
Sarah stepped closer to Nate, just enough for him to hear her over the hum of the elevator.
"Whatever happens up there," she said, "we'll hold the line."
Nate nodded once.
The elevator doors slid shut around him, sealing him inside a column of glass and light.
As it began to rise—slow, silent, inexorable—Sarah turned back to the central hub, already issuing orders.
"404—defensive perimeter. Minutemen and BOS, let's fortify choke points. We buy him time."