The war room smelled of oil and solder and the faint metallic tang of the castle's ever-burning heaters. A small holo-slate flickered on the table, playing a cracked personal log on loop—Vergil's voice thin and haunted.
"Personal record. Dr. Brian Vergil. This will likely be my last recording. My requests to shut down the FEV program have repeatedly been denied. We've learned nothing useful in the last ten years; why does Father insist on continuing it? If he won't see reason, then I have to take matters into my own hands… If anyone finds this after I'm gone, know I never wanted to hurt anyone. I'm going to make sure the whole program is shut down… If there is a god, may he have mercy on us all."
Sarah watched the pale words drift across the holo and did not blink. The room was quiet enough to hear the faint staccato of the heater and the soft whirr of T-doll servos.
"Ten years," she murmured. "If Shaun's the Director, then he's been steering this for decades. No wonder the Institute moves like a glacier—slow, inevitable, and crushing everything in its path."
Nate folded the edge of a ration wrapper and looked up, the weight of the revelation settling into his shoulders. "What's been lost?" he asked flatly, not because he didn't know, but because he needed the question to be said aloud.
Sarah's jaw hardened for a breath. "People, You. Homes. Names. The chance to choose what kind of world we build. They've been living under a ceiling of lab lights for years, while the rest of us bled under sky and rain. Compassion gets wired out of someone who never had to suffer."
Nate let out a long, humorless exhale. "Right." He stood, running a hand over the faded fabric of his coat. "What do you want me to do with this?"
"Deliver it," Sarah said. She reached for the holotap and set it in his palm. "Take Vergil's log to Madison Li. Let her hear why he fled. Put it on the table when you talk to Shaun — let a scientist hear another scientist's conscience. It might not change anything, but it's something."
Nate's eyes flicked to the small stack of worn things on the corner of the table—trinkets, a dented toy soldier. A hollow look crossed his face. "I don't know what I'll say to him." His voice dropped, softer. "I don't know how to make a man who built those doors open them."
"Then be honest," Sarah said. "You're not asking him to change overnight. You're asking him to see the people he calls collateral. That's where you start."
Nate offered a bleak smile. "You always make it sound simple."
Sarah allowed herself the smallest smile in reply. "I'm an optimist with good PR."
A beat of awkward silence, then Nate's shoulders dipped as he tried to laugh it off. "I'd… like to give Shaun something. Something from before. My—our—house. A teddy bear he used to clutch. I don't have it anymore. The house—" He swallowed. "If you had one…"
Sarah's eyes scanned the room. Around the table, the T-dolls stood at attention, human in their attention, machine in their patience. HK416 was nearest.
"HK416," Sarah said. The response was immediate and efficient. "You called, ma'am?"
"Do we have anything like a pre-war teddy? Something I could—" Nate's voice cracked on the last word.
HK416's optic flickered. "Inventory shows casual comfort items: five plush units of varied manufacture. G11 has custody of three. Two are unassigned."
G11, half-asleep against a radiator, startled upright at the mention. "My huggy bears?! What? No—" She scrambled, blinkers wide, immediately protective. "You can't—those are for nap duty! They help me… reboot."
HK416 folded a hand into a small, almost fond gesture. "Commander, G11 is amenable to reassignment if the item is used for morale restoration."
G11's face—however synthetic—went from panic to indignation. "Hey! They were unnamed! I haven't even given them proper—"
Preston, who had been standing by the map, furrowed his brow and raised a hand. "Sorry, General—and Commander—what's… what's Christmas?"
UMP9 barked a soft laugh. "Seriously? You never celebrate? No wonder there aren't lights in DC. Christmas is a big… nostalgic cap-fest. Presents, food, awkward family reunions."
Sarah laughed once, sharp and warm. "It's fine. Nate—take the holotap. Take a bear. If you meet Shaun, give him the bear, and tell him there are people waiting for him to choose. That's the plan."
Nate nodded, the weight of the task folding into his stride. He tucked the holotap into his coat and accepted the small, patched teddy from HK416's careful hands. G11 watched like a mother watching her child pass a school exam—overprotective and trembling.
"Safe trip," Sarah said, voice firm. "And Nate? Take no unnecessary risks. We been ambushed near Virgil's cave—the Institute will try to watch everything.
Location: Institute relay chamber
The relay chamber pulsed with cold white light, its rings humming like a held breath. A faint crackle rippled through the air—then a burst of blue-white distortion snapped into place as Nate materialized on the platform, boots clanging against polished steel.
The modified Pip-Boy on his wrist dimmed from teleport-glow to normal function, a thin trace of steam drifting off its casing. The sudden silence that followed felt almost ceremonial.
Standing at the base of the relay, Beluga cut a stark and striking figure—nothing like the pristine white-uniformed synth escorts Nate was used to.
She wore a layered, tactical coat in deep blacks and charcoal grays, its edges trimmed with sharp white lines that flicked subtly in the low airflow of the relay chamber. A red ribbon-like strap fluttered from her side, adding a fierce streak of color to her otherwise muted palette. Under the coat, lightweight segmented armor hugged her frame, built for mobility rather than brute defense, with straps and pouches arranged with almost obsessive efficiency.
Her hair was a pale silver-white, cut in a soft, slightly messy bob that contrasted sharply with her cold, serious yellow eyes—eyes that tracked every movement with calculated precision but still held a faint softness when they settled on Nate.
Fingerless gloves covered her hands, and her legs were protected by asymmetrical dark armor plates strapped over tactical tights. A compact rifle-like weapon rested magnetically along her back, sleek and matte black, its form taken directly from Institute energy weapon schematics—but heavily customized.
When Nate materialized, she shifted her weight slightly, cloak swaying around her like feathers.
"General Nate," Beluga said, voice calm and cool, matching her appearance. "Your arrival vector is stable. Welcome back."
Institute — Advanced Systems Division
The familiar blue flash of the Relay faded, and Nate steadied himself. Beluga stood waiting, posture stiff and precise—her eyes lit with that controlled amber glow the Institute's matrix imposed on all Sangvis Ferri assets under their command.
"General Nate," Beluga said with mechanical calm. "Director Shaun has authorized your movement through Sector A-Five. I am assigned to supervise."
She turned sharply, cloak brushing the floor.
"Please follow. Do not deviate from the designated route."
Nate nodded. He didn't like the cold obedience in her voice, but at least Shaun had permitted the visit. That was all he needed.
Approaching Advanced Systems
As they reached the lab door, Beluga stopped and leaned slightly toward him—just enough to seem conspiratorial, yet her tone remained flat.
"Director Shaun's instruction is precise: you may speak to Dr. Madison Li without interruption. My presence will remain external unless security risks escalate."
She paused, amber eyes narrowing.
"Please complete your objective efficiently."
Nate gave a small nod and slipped inside.
Inside the Lab
Dr. Madison Li was reviewing power flow diagrams when she heard him approach.
"Oh—not again," she groaned. "If you're here to request reactor access, I told you—"
"It's not about the reactor," Nate cut in."It's about Virgil."
She froze.
"…Virgil? You found him?"
Nate placed the holotape gently on the console."He wanted you to hear this."
The recording played. Virgil's voice—broken, regretful—filled the lab:
"…What we're doing... it's not right… I'm leaving… If there's a god, may he have mercy on us…"
When the tape ended, Madison Li's shoulders trembled.
"All this time…" she whispered. "I thought he abandoned the work. But he was trying to stop it."
Nate stepped closer.
"You don't have to stay here either, Dr. Li. You're not a prisoner. You're a scientist being used."
"Used?" she murmured, staring at the holotape. "We all are."
Nate lowered his voice."I can get you out. Safely. The Minutemen and Commander Sierra already planned a route. And Virgil—he's waiting for proof that you'll be free. in case i'm unable to escort, here's the coordinate for minutemen meeting point."
Madison looked around the lab—the white walls, the cameras, the hum of machinery.Then she exhaled sharply, as though letting go of years of denial.
"…Sierra...She's alive....understand, i'll leave" she said quietly. "I'll head there at the relay access later. But it must be subtle. They can't know I'm leaving."
Nate felt relief wash through him."Understood."
Madison gave the holotape one last look.
"Thank you, Nate. Virgil… he deserved better. And so do I."
Outside the Lab
The moment Nate stepped out, Beluga straightened from her waiting posture.
"Interaction concluded," she stated. "I detected heightened emotional exchange but no hostile activity."
She began walking, expecting Nate to follow.
"Director Shaun will be updated that your request was fulfilled. You will be escorted to the next approved sector."
Nate glanced at her expressionless face.Beluga paused—just half a second, almost as if a flicker of her original personality was trying to surface.
"If Dr. Li later initiates movement beyond her assigned quarters," Beluga said slowly, "I am not currently ordered to intervene."
Her voice was calm, almost too calm.
"I will continue following the Director's directives."
She turned away, leading him onward.
Institute — Director's Quarters (Christmas Eve)
The sterile white doors slid open, letting Nate step inside the Director's office. The quiet hum of Institute machinery filled the background, interrupted only by Shaun's voice.
Shaun looked up from a terminal."Ah. You're back. Good."
Nate hesitated only a moment before setting a small, carefully wrapped box on Shaun's desk.
"A Christmas gift," Nate said. "From before the war. I just… thought you should have something like this."
Shaun unwrapped it delicately. Inside was a restored pre-war teddy bear. His gaze lingered on it—curiosity, nostalgia, something harder to read.
After a long pause, he placed it on the corner of his desk.Not rejected.Not embraced.Just… observed.
Through the transparent doorway, Beluga stood perfectly still—white hair, black combat layers, amber eyes faintly glowing as she remained hooked into the Institute command matrix. She was monitoring, not participating.
Shaun turned back to Nate.
"A thoughtful gesture," he said, "but the Institute's work does not stop for holidays. There are matters that require your attention."
Nate crossed his arms."Like what?"
Shaun tapped a command. A hologram flickered to life—a marker flashing over the coastline.
"Libertalia," Shaun said. "A raider stronghold built from the hulls of half-sunken ships. I'm sending you there."
Nate frowned. "Why? What's in Libertalia?"
"A synth," Shaun replied. "Designation: X6-37 reports confirmed—a third-generation unit has defected and assumed leadership among the raiders there."
He stepped closer to the glowing map.
"This rogue synth has refused recall attempts. He's armed, organized, and dangerous—far beyond what most raiders are capable of."
Nate exhaled slowly."And you want me to deal with him."
Shaun nodded."I want you to see firsthand the consequences when our technology falls into the wrong hands. This is part of understanding the Institute, Father."
From outside, Beluga tilted her head slightly—receiving updated instructions through the matrix. Her voice carried quietly through the open door:
"General Nate, Synth Retention Bureau has been notified. Escort protocols ready."
Shaun folded his hands.
"Retrieve the synth if possible. Eliminate him if you must. The Commonwealth's stability depends on it."
Nate stared at him a moment, jaw tight."…And this is your idea of Christmas?"
Shaun's expression didn't shift."Reality does not pause for holidays."
Then—softening just a fraction:
"Complete this task, and we will speak again about the direction of the Institute… and possible limitations on our surface operations."
Nate gave a curt nod."Fine. I'll head to Libertalia."
Shaun dismissed him with a small gesture.
"Good. Beluga will accompany you to the Synth Retention Bureau. Safe travels."
Nate turned to leave, the door sliding open as Beluga stepped aside to guide him.
"General Nate," Beluga said with mechanical calm, "please follow. Mission parameters uploaded. Supervision authorized."
The teddy bear remained on Shaun's desk—silent and untouched, watching as the door closed behind Nate.