If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
She walked him to the door, the faint warmth of lamplight spilling out onto the porch as he stepped outside. The evening air was cooler now, carrying the distant scent of pine and the soft hum of the city settling down.
The morning came quietly — not with the roar of machines or the sharp clang of steel, but with the soft breath of wind rolling through the trees beyond the walls of Sanctuary. The sun was just climbing over the rooftops, its light spilling across the plaza in slow, warm layers. Workers were already stirring; the smell of bread drifted faintly from the communal kitchen near the main street, and the low murmur of conversation filled the air as early patrols returned from their shifts.
Sico stood at the base of the Science Building, hands clasped behind his back, watching the horizon beyond the north gate. The morning breeze carried a hint of dust from the road — the kind that always preceded an approaching convoy.
He had been up since dawn, his usual routine already finished: morning reports signed, security rotations checked, supply requests reviewed. Now, the only thing left was to wait.
The Science Building itself loomed quietly behind him, a structure of reinforced steel and polished concrete, its façade gleaming faintly in the sunlight. The Freemasons Republic emblem was etched above the entrance, flanked by banners in dark blue and gold that swayed softly in the wind. Inside, he could hear the faint hum of generators and the echo of voices — researchers already at work, their conversations muffled through the thick glass walls.
To his right, Mel stood with a tablet tucked under one arm, his lab coat unbuttoned and slightly creased, as if he'd rushed out without much thought to appearances. He was half-focused on the data streaming across his screen and half-listening for the sound of engines. His expression was somewhere between impatience and excitement.
"I still can't believe Preston actually managed to bring them in alive," Mel muttered, shaking his head. "Super mutants, of all things. Two of them. You know how rare that is?"
Sico glanced at him, his voice even. "You asked for it, Mel. Virgil was clear — he needed live subjects for his research."
"Yeah, I know," Mel said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still, capturing them's one thing. Keeping them alive during transport is another. Those things aren't exactly gentle travel companions."
Sico gave a small smirk. "If anyone could do it, it's Preston and Robert. They've handled worse."
Mel exhaled, glancing at the road again. "You're not wrong about that. Still… I hope the containment pods held. The last thing I need is one of those bastards breaking loose in the lab. Virgil might find that fascinating, but the cleanup sure as hell wouldn't be."
Sico chuckled quietly under his breath. "Don't worry. I trust Preston's judgment — and Sturges's engineering. They'll be secured."
The conversation faded into silence again, replaced by the growing rumble in the distance. Faint at first, then rising — the deep, rolling growl of engines echoing across the open plains.
Mel straightened immediately, lowering his tablet. "That's them."
Sico's eyes narrowed toward the gate, and sure enough, the convoy came into view — a dust trail blooming behind three vehicles as they rolled down the northern approach road. At the front, a heavy-duty armored Humvee bearing the Republic insignia; behind it, two large containment trucks, their reinforced frames glinting under the sun. The guards atop the towers snapped to alert, signaling clearance as the convoy approached.
The gates opened with a low mechanical groan. The convoy entered Sanctuary in formation, engines humming steady, the air thick with the scent of oil and ozone. Workers and soldiers passing through the plaza paused briefly to watch, curious.
When the vehicles came to a halt in front of the Science Building, the lead Humvee's door swung open. Preston stepped out first, his armor dusty from the road but his expression calm and satisfied. His rifle was slung casually across his shoulder, and the familiar worn hat shielded his eyes from the glare.
Robert climbed out next, he was smiling faintly, the kind of grin that said he'd just survived something messy but successful.
"Commander," Preston called as he approached, giving a short, respectful nod. "Mission accomplished. Two live specimens, just like the good doctor requested."
Sico returned the nod, his tone even. "Good work, Preston. Any casualties?"
"None," Preston said proudly. "Couple of bruises, a cracked windshield, and a lot of noise, but we managed."
Robert chuckled under his breath. "Noise is an understatement. Those bastards nearly tore through the containment rigs when we first hit 'em with tranquilizers. Had to reinforce the pods mid-transport. But we made it."
Mel was already moving toward the trucks, his curiosity overriding caution. "Let's see what we've got."
Sico followed, his boots crunching lightly against the gravel. As they approached the first containment truck, Robert tapped a sequence on the lock. The locks open, and the doors slowly opened.
Inside, the containment cage sat secured to the reinforced floor, each pulsing faintly with the glow of internal energy fields. Through the cage, the hulking shapes of the super mutants were visible — restrained, sedated, it's massive bodies strapped down with layered steel cuffs. Even unconscious, the super mutant radiated raw power, their muscles twitching occasionally beneath green, scarred skin.
Mel's eyes widened slightly in fascination. "Beautiful specimens," he murmured, stepping closer to the cage. "You don't see this kind of genetic stability often. Virgil's going to lose his mind over this."
Sico gave him a sidelong glance. "Let's just make sure they don't wake up before then."
Robert snorted. "Trust me, Commander, they won't. Sturges triple-locked every seal on those cage. Even if one of them sneezes, the sedative system will kick back in."
"Good," Sico said, his gaze still fixed on the nearest mutant. The creature's breathing was slow, steady — a rhythmic rise and fall of its chest that seemed almost unnatural in its calm. "We'll move them to the lower containment wing. I want Virgil to start his examination immediately."
Mel nodded quickly. "Already arranged. The lab team's standing by — containment fields are active, isolation chamber sealed. We'll move them as soon as the transfer rigs are ready."
Sico turned to Preston. "You and your squad did well. You've earned some rest. Debrief with Sarah once you've had something to eat — I'll need a full report on the capture details for the archives."
Preston gave a small, satisfied smile. "Understood, sir. And thank you."
As Preston walked off with his men, Robert lingered a moment longer, his grin returning. "I'll head to Virgil lab — make sure the containment cage are stable once they're inside the lab. Last thing we need is a lose super mutant in the middle of Virgil's experiment."
"Good idea," Sico said, giving a short nod. "And Robert — good work out there."
Robert's grin widened slightly at the praise before he turned and jogged off toward the Virgil lab.
That left Sico and Mel standing by the truck as the lab crew arrived — a half-dozen technicians in reinforced suits, guiding the automated transfer rigs. Hydraulic arms extended, locking onto the containment cage before slowly lifting them out. The hiss of pistons and hum of energy filled the air as the pods were moved carefully toward the building.
Mel followed closely, checking the readings on his tablet as they went. "Sedation levels holding steady… bio-signs minimal but stable. Alright, move them to Chamber Three and Four. Keep the barriers at sixty percent until Virgil says otherwise."
The technicians acknowledged, guiding the pods through the Science Building's heavy blast doors. The interior of the facility was cool and sterile — a sharp contrast to the warmth of the plaza outside. The smell of ozone and antiseptic filled the air, and faint blue lights flickered along the corridor edges, tracing the way toward the containment sector.
Sico walked alongside Mel, observing quietly. The deeper they went, the more the noise of the outside world faded until only the steady hum of machines remained.
Virgil was waiting for them in the main observation chamber.
When he heard them enter, he turned, his voice deep but measured. "Commander. Mel. I see our guests have arrived."
"They have," Sico said evenly. "Two live captures, both stable. Preston's team handled the operation cleanly."
Virgil nodded, satisfaction crossing his broad features. "Excellent. I'll begin preliminary scans immediately. These specimens could be invaluable. I suspect their genetic variations may provide insight into the FEV's adaptive behavior — possibly even ways to reverse certain degradations."
Mel's curiosity was already spilling over. "You think we might actually find a way to suppress the mutation response?"
Virgil's mouth curved into something that almost resembled a smile. "In time. If we're lucky — and careful."
Sico folded his arms, watching as the pods were secured within the containment bay. "You'll have all the resources you need, Virgil. But remember — safety first. I don't want any accidents down here."
"Of course," Virgil said solemnly. "Containment protocols will be absolute."
The transfer rigs disengaged, the pods locking into their new cradles as energy fields shimmered around them. The mutants' massive forms glowed faintly under the scanning lights as Virgil began to input commands into the terminal.
The doors slid open with a hiss, and Sico stepped out into the main corridor of the Science Building. Behind him, the faint hum of machinery still echoed — the sound of containment fields holding steady, of Virgil's lab humming to life with a dozen quiet miracles and dangers all at once.
He paused for a moment before leaving, glancing back through the glass wall that separated him from the lab floor. Virgil and Mel were already at work, voices low, their figures half-shadowed by the glow of consoles and monitors. The super mutants lay motionless within their energy cages — silent giants beneath the pale light, prisoners of science and circumstance.
Sico let out a slow breath. "I'll leave it to you, Virgil," he said, voice even but edged with weight.
Virgil looked up briefly from his terminal. "You'll have results, Sico. You have my word."
Sico gave a small nod, then turned and started down the hall. The doors sealed behind him with a muted thump, cutting off the sterile hum of the laboratory.
Outside, the world felt alive again.
The moment Sico stepped back into the open air, the sounds of Sanctuary returned — the clang of tools from the workshops, the laughter of children near the main plaza, the low murmur of merchants setting up their stalls. The smell of bread and smoke drifted faintly through the air, mixing with the earthier scent of crops and tanned leather.
It wasn't the wasteland anymore — not here. The Freemasons Republic had turned this place into something more. Something that breathed.
He descended the short steps leading from the Science Building and made his way toward the heart of the plaza. The sun had climbed higher now, spilling golden light across the rooftops. The banners along the main street fluttered in the breeze — dark blue and gold, the Republic colors, stitched with the emblem of the rising compass.
People moved about in steady rhythm. Farmers from the outlying homesteads hauling baskets of fresh corn and mutfruit to the market stalls. Engineers unloading crates of machine parts from the supply wagons. Guards in full combat gear patrolling the streets, their rifles slung low but their eyes alert.
And there, near the fountain at the center of the plaza, stood the familiar figure he'd been looking for.
Piper Wright.
She was hard to miss — not just because of her usual blue coat and the press badge pinned proudly to the lapel, but because of the small crowd gathered around her. She held a notepad in one hand, her pencil scratching quickly across the page as she spoke to a middle-aged farmer, her smile sharp and genuine.
Even from a distance, her energy was unmistakable — bright, curious, a spark that hadn't dimmed even after everything they'd all been through.
Sico slowed his pace as he approached, taking a moment to observe the scene.
Piper was in her element.
A few steps away, a young woman — likely one of the Republic's new settlers — was setting up a microphone connected to a small broadcasting device. A patch of the "Radio Of Freedom" was stitched on her vest. Piper's legacy had grown beyond a newspaper now. Her interviews were being recorded, transmitted across the Commonwealth, reaching every outpost, settlement, and safe zone under the Republic's flag.
"—and what about you, Mrs. Whitfield?" Piper was saying, turning her attention back to the farmer. "It's been one year since the founding. How's life changed for you and your family?"
The woman chuckled softly, shifting her weight on her feet. "Well, I won't lie, Miss Wright — when we first came here, I didn't think we'd make it. Used to sleep with a rifle beside the bed. My kids were scared every time the wind blew too hard." She smiled faintly. "Now? My boy's learnin' to read. My husband's workin' in the fields again. We even got music playin' on the weekends. I can't remember the last time life felt this… normal."
Piper's grin widened. "Normal — that's a rare word out here. But I like the sound of it."
The woman nodded. "Aye, that's thanks to the President and all you folks in the Republic. You gave us a home again."
Sico stopped just at the edge of the crowd, listening. For a moment, he didn't speak. Didn't move. He just stood there — taking in the sound of her words, the tone of her gratitude, the murmur of others nearby agreeing.
There were years when words like that would've sounded impossible.
Now, they were real.
Piper finally noticed him as she turned to interview the next settler. Her eyes lit up.
"Well, speak of the devil," she said, voice carrying that teasing warmth that never quite left her. "Look who decided to join the festivities early."
The crowd turned, murmuring softly as Sico approached. Some saluted; others just nodded with quiet respect. He returned each gesture with a small nod before stepping beside Piper.
"Didn't mean to interrupt," Sico said, his tone calm, carrying that low gravitas that made people listen without realizing it. "You've got quite the audience."
Piper smirked. "Hey, when there's a Founding Day celebration coming up, you can bet people have opinions. Figured I'd do a little piece — talk to folks about what the Republic's first year has meant to them."
Sico glanced at her notepad. "How's it looking so far?"
She shrugged with a grin. "Mixed bag of emotions, mostly good. People are proud, hopeful — some even a little nervous about the future. You know how it is."
He nodded, his gaze drifting across the plaza again. "I do."
Piper tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You don't sound surprised."
"I'm not," Sico said quietly. "This was the goal. A place where people could build, live, raise families — without fear of someone kicking down their doors at night."
Piper smiled, tucking the pencil behind her ear. "Sounds like you're rehearsing your Founding Day speech already."
He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. "Not quite. I'll leave the speeches to you."
"Ha," she said, rolling her eyes. "You always say that, but somehow you still end up making the biggest one every year."
"That's because you ask too many questions," he said, deadpan.
Piper laughed — the kind of laugh that softened the air around her. "Yeah, well, it's my job."
They started walking slowly through the plaza together, the bustle of morning life moving around them like a living current.
Sico kept his hands behind his back, eyes flicking occasionally toward the people — toward the families setting up stalls, the children chasing a ball near the fountain, the guards exchanging light jokes as they passed.
"You've built something incredible here," Piper said after a moment, her tone softer now, more reflective. "When I first got here, this place was just a handful of houses and a couple of turrets. Now look at it — schools, hospitals, farms, radio networks. It's… it's civilization again."
Sico didn't answer right away. He just looked around — at the faces of those who'd once been wanderers, raiders, or refugees. Now, they were citizens. Builders.
"It's not mine alone," he said finally. "Sarah's leadership, Preston's organization, Sturges' engineering, Nora's heart — everyone played their part."
Piper glanced at him sideways. "That's true. But they all followed you first."
He didn't argue — didn't agree, either. His gaze shifted to a group of kids running past, their laughter echoing through the square. "Leadership doesn't mean much without trust. They gave me that — and I intend to keep earning it."
Piper scribbled something on her notepad, half-grinning. "That's going in the article."
He smirked faintly. "Figured as much."
As they neared the far end of the plaza, the wind carried the sound of hammering from a nearby construction site — new homes being raised in the outer district. The Founding Day celebration was a week away, and already, preparations had begun. Banners were being painted. Food vendors were setting up booths. The smell of roasted meat and spiced bread filled the air.
"You planning something big for the ceremony?" Piper asked.
Sico shook his head slightly. "Just enough to remind people why we're here. I also care about fireworks or parades. And when they go home after it's done, they still believe in what we're building."
Piper smiled thoughtfully. "You ever stop and think about how far it's come? A year ago, this was just a dream — an idea sketched on a piece of paper and fueled by stubborn hope."
Sico looked toward the horizon, where the sunlight caught the faint outline of the Republic's flag waving above the western wall. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Sometimes I still wake up thinking it's all temporary. That it'll crumble if I blink too long."
Piper studied him for a long moment, her voice softer now. "But it hasn't."
"No," he said. "It hasn't."
They stopped near the fountain again, where the statue of the Republic's founding stood — a sculpted depiction of unity, arms raised together beneath the rising compass emblem. Flowers had been placed at its base. Someone had left a child's drawing there, too — a stick figure family holding hands under a blue sky, with the words 'Home Forever' scrawled underneath.
Sico stared at it for a long while.
"That's why we fight," he murmured.
Piper followed his gaze and nodded. "And why you can't stop, huh?"
Sico turned to her, a hint of tired humor in his eyes. "Do I look like I ever stop?"
Piper chuckled. "No. You look like someone who forgets how."
He allowed himself a small smile. "Maybe one day."
"Maybe," she said, her grin softening into something warmer. "But for now, I'd say you've earned at least a good quote for tomorrow's headline."
He arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"
She flipped open her notepad, tapping the page with her pencil. "Something simple. 'One Year Strong: The Republic Stands.' Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. It does."
Piper was still scribbling something on her notepad when Sico's voice drifted in again — calm, thoughtful, but with that faint glint of intention behind it.
"Piper," he began, his tone steady but edged with purpose. "There's something I wanted to ask you."
She looked up, her pencil still halfway through a line. "Oh? That sounded serious. What's on your mind, Mr. President?"
He smirked faintly at the title, though she always said it half-mockingly. "Something about your radio network," he said, looking past her toward the makeshift broadcasting booth she'd set up under the nearby awning. A few young techs were adjusting antennas and cables, the small transmitter humming as it caught the morning signal. "You've built quite a following with Radio of Freedom. People listen. They trust you."
Piper followed his gaze, watching her little team work. There was pride in her eyes — not the kind born from ego, but from seeing an idea grow roots and bloom in the middle of ruin. "Yeah," she said with a light laugh. "Not bad for a girl with a broken typewriter and a knack for getting in trouble."
Sico's lips curved in a faint grin, but his tone stayed thoughtful. "That's the thing. The Radio of Freedom's about to get a new purpose."
That caught her attention. Her eyebrows lifted. "Oh? And what kind of purpose are we talking about?"
He crossed his arms loosely. "It's going to be repurposed for field operations — military communication. Sarah and Preston have been planning it for a while now. It'll serve as the main line for distress calls, tactical alerts, supply coordination — that sort of thing. A direct network for our forces across the Republic."
Piper tilted her head slightly, absorbing that. "So you're turning it into… a soldier's channel."
He nodded. "Exactly. It's what we need. But that also means you'd lose your public platform. And that," he said, glancing at her, "is something I don't want to happen."
Her pencil stopped tapping. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," he continued, "that we'll build you a new one — a dedicated broadcast station, entirely yours. A place for the people. The Freemasons Radio."
Piper blinked, her brows knitting in surprise. "Freemasons Radio?"
He nodded once, firm. "Yeah. Independent from the military frequencies. A channel for your reports, interviews, news, culture — everything you've built, but on a bigger scale. And it'll be more than just Sanctuary. The broadcast will reach every settlement connected to our relay towers — from Diamond City to the Glowing Sea border. You'll have your voice everywhere, Piper. No censors. No limits."
For a moment, she just looked at him. The breeze caught the edge of her coat, fluttering it slightly as she let the words sink in. "You're serious?"
"Completely."
Her voice softened a little. "You'd do that? Just like that?"
"It's not 'just like that,'" he said, his tone low but warm. "You've earned it. The Republic needs voices like yours — not the kind that shout orders, but the kind that remind people what we're fighting for. Hope. Truth. Connection. You've always done that better than anyone else."
For once, Piper didn't have a quick answer. Her pencil slipped from between her fingers, hanging loosely by her thumb as her gaze wandered to the plaza again. Around them, life continued — laughter, hammering, chatter — all the noise of a world being rebuilt.
"You know…" she started slowly, her voice quieter now, "back before all this — before the Republic, before you came along — I used to sit in that crumbling office at Publick Occurrences wondering if anyone even cared anymore. I'd write stories about missing caravans, broken families, corrupt traders… and half the time, people would tell me to stop stirring trouble." She gave a faint, dry chuckle. "Even my sister used to say I was wasting my time. That people didn't want the truth — they wanted comfort."
Sico listened, silent and steady.
"But here," she continued, turning her gaze back toward him, "people listen. They actually want to know what's going on. Not just the good, but the bad, the real. I get letters from settlers, guards, even kids in the schools — asking about the world beyond the walls. It's… it's strange, you know? Being a voice again."
Sico nodded slowly. "That's exactly why I want you on your own frequency. You've proven what one person with a microphone can do. Now imagine what happens when we give you a network."
Her lips parted slightly, and for once, she was the one speechless.
"Freemasons Radio," she murmured again, tasting the words like something fragile but hopeful. "That's… gods, that's big, Sico. Really big. You're talking infrastructure, manpower, relays, tech support—"
"All already accounted for," he said simply. "Mel's team can handle the transmitters. Sarah will assign guards to secure the tower sites. And Preston's men will make sure every settlement connected to our trade lines gets a receiver. We're building a Republic, Piper — it's time the people hear it."
She blinked at him again, shaking her head slightly as if trying to process it all. "You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"
Sico gave a small grin. "Not when it matters."
Piper exhaled, still half-laughing, half-stunned. "Freemasons Radio," she said again, more to herself this time. "I can already see the headlines: 'From the ashes of chaos, a new voice rises.'"
He chuckled. "That's your line, not mine."
She smirked, tapping the pencil back against her chin. "I'll give you credit in the footnotes."
They started walking again, slowly circling back toward the fountain. The morning light had shifted now, casting longer shadows across the plaza. A group of settlers carried a banner up to the statue — "Founding Day: One Year Strong" — while a pair of mechanics tested one of the newly built street lamps.
Piper's voice turned reflective again as they walked. "You know, I always figured you were the kind of guy who'd rather keep the world quiet — less noise, more control. But here you are, offering me a megaphone that could make you a target."
"I don't want control," Sico said simply. "I want accountability. If I ever start going down the wrong path, I expect you to be the first to call me out."
She gave a small laugh, one corner of her mouth lifting. "Oh, don't worry. I plan to."
"I know you will."
For a brief moment, there was silence between them — not the uncomfortable kind, but one laced with mutual respect. The kind built on years of seeing too much, surviving too much, and still believing in something beyond themselves.
Then Piper spoke again, quieter this time. "You really think the people are ready for something like that? A Republic-wide broadcast?"
Sico looked out across the plaza — at the faces, the movement, the rhythm of rebuilding life. "They already are. They just don't know it yet."
Piper's gaze softened, and a faint smile touched her lips. "You always talk like that — like you can see three steps ahead of everyone else."
"Not three steps," he said, eyes still forward. "Just one. Enough to know where to put my foot next."
She chuckled softly. "Well, it's working. And I won't lie — the idea of having a station like that… it's exciting. Scary, but exciting."
Sico turned to her, his tone quiet but sure. "Then it's settled. You'll have your station. We'll start construction next week near the Communications Hub, just north of the command tower. We'll connect it to the old relay lines that run toward Lexington and Concord. You'll have your first test broadcast before Founding Day."
Piper blinked, her jaw slack for a second before she laughed outright. "You're already building it, aren't you?"
He smiled, not denying it.
She shook her head, half amused, half amazed. "Unbelievable. You plan faster than I can write."
"That's because you think in stories," he said. "I think in outcomes."
"Maybe that's why we make a good team."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "You think we're a team now?"
Piper grinned, nudging his arm lightly. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven't realized that by now. You build the Republic, I tell its story. That's teamwork, whether you like it or not."
Sico chuckled. "Fair enough."
They reached the edge of the plaza again, where the walkway led toward the overlook — a raised terrace that gave a panoramic view of Sanctuary and the valley beyond. From there, the settlement stretched outward like a living organism — rows of newly built homes, green fields, guard towers, and roads that gleamed faintly under the morning sun.
Piper leaned on the railing, letting the breeze catch her hair. "You ever stop and just look at it? Everything you've done?"
He rested his hands on the rail beside her. "Sometimes. But every time I do, I just start thinking about what still needs to be done."
She smiled softly. "Figures. You don't really do 'enjoy the moment,' do you?"
"I'm trying," he said, half-smiling.
"Well," she said, glancing sideways at him, "when Freemasons Radio goes live, you'll have no choice. You'll be listening to me every morning — reminding you of all the things you still need to fix."
Sico gave a low chuckle. "That's both comforting and terrifying."
Piper laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I'll keep it fair. Maybe even throw in a good word once in a while. If you behave."
"That's a dangerous promise," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The wind shifted again, carrying the sound of construction from the north side of town. Somewhere in the distance, a radio crackled — the old Radio of Freedom, still broadcasting for now. A soldier's voice came through faintly, requesting a supply drop from one of the outer settlements.
Piper listened to it fade, then turned back to Sico. "Guess that's the last few days of my old station, huh?"
He nodded. "It'll serve its new purpose well. But when people hear your voice again — under a new name — they'll know the Republic's still growing."
Piper looked thoughtful, her eyes glinting faintly in the sunlight. "Freemasons Radio," she repeated. "I'll make it something worth listening to, Sico. Something that makes people feel like they belong again."
"I know you will."
She smiled then — that bright, determined kind of smile that always seemed to cut through the wasteland gloom like a sunrise. "Alright then, Mr. President," she said, adjusting her coat and tucking her notepad under her arm. "Guess I've got a new empire to build. One broadcast at a time."
He gave a quiet, approving nod. "Then let's get to work."
They stood there for another long moment — side by side, looking out over the Republic. Below them, Sanctuary pulsed with life, every heartbeat of the community echoing the future they'd fought to create.
________________________________________________
• 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:-