Case emerged from the elevator, Milla standing firm beside him. In the central hub of the Sink, the air was thick with the smell of ozone and industrial grease. Jacob and Amelia were huddled over the central console, carefully positioning a leg part from Markus's T-60 Power Armor onto the primary sensor array.
A holographic projector flared blue, casting a shimmering light across the room as it began a high-frequency sweep of the armor plating.
Case watched, mesmerized. It was surreal—the scanner traced every bolt, every micro-circuit, and every curve of the alloy. A soft, clean ding echoed through the chamber.
This was not in the game.
A fucking blueprint scanner, no an object scanner.
A real-life cheat—a godsend. The dream of reverse-engineering Old World tech had just become a tangible, humming reality. Case walked toward the heart of the Sink, his eyes fixed on the pristine Anti-Materiel Rifle Jacob was holding. Not a regular AMR, the special AMR that he had.
Case opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat.
"I know, kid. I know. You've got questions," Jacob said, a rare, boyish grin breaking through his grizzled beard. He rested a hand on the brand-new AMR. "Get this: I accidentally dropped an empty Nuka-Cola bottle near the scanner. Kablam. It scanned the glass, the label, the cap... and then a new bottle just materialized in the hopper. From there, it just... expanded."
"Wait, what?" Case was reeling. The implications were shattering every rule of wasteland survival he knew.
Harry, the Central Intelligence Unit, intervened with his polite, synthesized british butler voice, "Sir, you may not have recognized my primary function as a high-fidelity molecular scanner. Dr. Mobius created this redundancy in the event that Big Mountain lost the physical blueprints for a vital invention. I am, in essence, the facility's memory."
Case stood there, stunned. Nearby, Amelia was focused with surgical intensity, taking off parts from Markus' T-60. She was feeding Markus's T-60 Power Armor into the scanning field piece by piece—pauldrons, servos, chest plating—recording every microscopic inch.
"It's not that easy, right?" Milla cut in, her eyes squinting suspiciously at the CIU. "There's a catch. You can't just attach a god-tier scanner to a random Securitron or a Protectron and go for a walk... right?"
"Actually, ma'am," Harry replied, his monitors flickering with a helpful green glow. "This module is entirely modular. It can be integrated into a robotic chassis or even miniaturized into a handheld, gun-like blueprint scanner, provided the user has the necessary power cells."
"THAT EASY???" Case and Milla blurted out in unison.
Case didn't hesitate. He dashed straight to the Central Intelligence Unit, tapping the glass of the main terminal. "Harry, is it possible to, say, make a bunch of you? Maybe put one in Higgs Village so we don't have to hike back here every time we find a piece of scrap?"
"I am afraid that is impossible, sir," Harry replied, his cooling fans whirring as he processed the request. "My central processing matrix is unique to this facility. However, you can construct a specialized Commissary Terminal at Higgs Village. Since you now have administrative access to the Big Mountain robotics network, you can even designate certain units as distributors to haul materials between sites."
Case's eyes lit up, but Harry wasn't finished.
"There is a significant caveat, sir. Restocking the vast quantities of steel and raw materials required for mass production from the subterranean foundries will require you to clear the X-42 first."
"Why?" Case asked, his brow furrowing.
"Because that is the only known accessible entrance to the industrial processing sub-levels, sir," Harry explained. "Currently, the facility is under the direct, erratic control of Dr. Mobius's primary combat drone."
"The more reason to speedrun Mobius then," Case said, his voice tightening with a mix of excitement and grim resolve.
He turned back to the room. The sight was intoxicating: Jacob holding a rifle that shouldn't exist in the game, Amelia digitizing the most advanced armor of the pre-war world, and now a path to an infinite supply chain. But the gatekeeper was a giant, mechanical nightmare.
The giant roboscorpion that fired a scorching laser.
Case wasn't interested in being a lone hero. He had something the Courier didn't: an army of Rangers and a molecular forge. If they were going to war against a mechanical titan, they weren't going in on foot. They were going in with an M60 main battle tank.
"Harry, mass-produce those handheld scanners," Case commanded, his mind racing through the logistics. "We need to find every wreck in this crater. We need tanks and APCs to be scanned and digitized. If Mobius has a giant scorpion, we're going to have a cavalry."
He turned to the veteran Ranger, and his commanding officer,. "Jacob, would you mind helping?"
Jacob paused, looking at Case with a mix of amusement and genuine respect. "Are you ordering me? Your commanding officer?" He pointed a thumb at his own chest, then let out a short, sharp laugh. "Of course, Case. No problem. You know this facility better than I ever will. If you say we need tanks to win this, we'll make you some tanks. Alright, alright, this is getting better by the minutes."
"Oh, it is," Case smiled, the weight of the moment settling into a quiet, dangerous confidence.
"Alright. We'll be planning the cavalry, and making one, too," Jacob said, slapping the receiver of his new rifle. He looked at Case with the kind of look a veteran gives a protégé who has just surpassed them. "We've got the logistics and the plan. When the time comes, Case, we'll move on your word. For now, that privilege isn't on me—it's on you. You order the assault, and we'll be coming."
"Kid, the Enclave would kill—hell, they'd commit genocide—for this tech," Markus commented, his voice echoing from inside his chassis as he helped Amelia strip the heavy T-60 plating. "If we're building a cavalry... you know a place where we might find an unused Vertibird? A heavy hitter for the sky?"
Case's grin widened, sharp and knowing. "I do."
"You're joking, right?" Jacob asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the kid. A Vertibird wasn't just a vehicle; it was a strategic endgame. Finding one intact in the Mojave was a miracle.
"Oh, I know it, Jacob. Trust me. Just like you trusted me on this place," Case countered, a ghost of a smirk on his face. "However, it's in the Mojave, not here. For now, let's focus on rebuilding our army, shall we?"
"On it," Jacob said, standing tall. He snapped a crisp, half-mocking salute. "Sir."
Milla remained at the edge of the console, looking completely shell-shocked. She was clutching a Nuka-Cola bottle she'd pulled from the vending machine, but she finished it in one desperate, thirsty gulp anyway.
"First the Auto-Doc, then a talking light switch, and now this...?" Milla wiped her mouth, staring at the humming scanner. "Goddamn."
"Hey, c'mon. We still have a job to do," Case said, stepping over and tapping her on the shoulder to snap her out of the trance.
"Can this old man tag along?" Jacob asked, his voice echoing as he stepped away from the planning map.
"Huh?" Case turned.
"You know, Amelia is still busy, and she needs to brief Corbin and Jack first. I'm bored, and I need something to shoot. What do you think?" Jacob asked. There was a glint in his eye that suggested he didn't just want to "help"—he wanted to see the kid in action.
"Come with me. Let's go," Case said, nodding.
"Yippie yey, time to crack these old bones out," Jacob grunted. He stepped into the side armory, grabbed his customized Assault Carbine, and slammed a mag home. He pulled his Ranger helmet over his head, and a soft, rhythmic hiss followed as he connected the gas mask to the filtration unit.
"Lead the way, Case."