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And just like that, without another word, the two of them fell into the quiet rhythm of planning for the future.
Sico looked down at the clutter of paperwork on his desk, then back at Nora, his mind already shifting gears. He reached for a map on the side table, one scrawled with red pins and inked-out locations, but then stopped himself.
Instead, he turned to Nora with a different look—measured, calculating, but not cold.
"You should head back," he said.
Nora blinked. "Back?"
"To the Institute," he clarified. "We need eyes inside. If they're talking strategy—sabotage, diplomacy, infiltration—we can't afford to sit in the dark. You're the only one we trust in there."
Her expression tensed. "You're sure about this?"
"As sure as I am about anything these days," Sico said. "You've got their trust. At least enough to be in the room when things go down. I need you to find out what they're planning regarding the Minutemen. If they're sending synths into our settlements, or trying to hijack the scanner project from the shadows, I want to know before they make a move."
Nora was quiet for a beat. She didn't look away, didn't retreat into thought. She just processed it with the sort of calm that came from a thousand hard decisions. Then she reached into the inside of her jacket and pulled something out.
A small vial, glowing faintly with a pale green luminescence.
She held it out in her gloved hand, palm open. "Here. You'll want this."
Sico eyed it cautiously, then took it with care, feeling the cool glass against his fingers. The label was worn, but he didn't need to read it. He knew exactly what it was.
"The serum," he muttered.
She nodded. "Virgil's. The one he told us to recover—if we ever made it into the Institute using the teleportation device he designed. I managed to get my hands on it a few days ago, tucked it away just in case things went south."
Sico stared at the vial. "He said this was the only shot he had at becoming fully human again. Stable. You think it's legit?"
"I do," Nora said. "It was stored in a restricted lab, sealed and cold-locked. I took it when the technicians were shifting labs due to a containment breach in the BioScience wing. No one noticed. Yet."
Sico let out a low breath and set the serum carefully in one of the inner drawers of his desk, locking it with a click. "We'll get it to him. I'll will personally go to the Glowing Sea and give it to Virgil, and also tried to inviting him join the Minutemen."
Nora's gaze lingered on the drawer where Sico had just locked the serum away. Her eyes narrowed slightly—not with suspicion, but with the weight of consideration. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, but edged with curiosity.
"Are you sure Virgil will join us?"
Sico didn't answer right away. He walked around the desk, his boots thudding softly against the floorboards, and paused beside the frosted window. The late afternoon light had shifted, casting a pale orange glow over the settlement outside. A pair of Minutemen trainees jogged past, rifles slung over their shoulders, laughing as they spoke. Normal, by post-war standards. Precious.
Then, he turned to her.
"If he doesn't," Sico said, "he'll keep running. Keep hiding. And eventually, the Institute will find him. We both know that."
Nora folded her arms but didn't argue.
"He's a top-tier mind, Nora," Sico continued. "They had him in the BioScience division. He worked on the FEV strain before he grew a conscience. You don't just stumble into that kind of role at the Institute. That's earned. Built over years. Which means he's exactly the kind of person we need."
"To do what?" Nora asked, stepping a little closer.
"To build," Sico said simply. "Virgil knows how the Institute operates. Not just the science, but the systems. The policies. The engineering shortcuts. If he joins us, we gain an edge. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next month—but eventually. And he gets something out of it too."
"Which is?"
Sico shrugged slightly. "A future. One where he's not constantly looking over his shoulder. One where he can contribute to rebuilding the world instead of running from what he helped break."
Nora considered that, her eyes searching his. "He's… difficult, you know. We've talked with him. He's angry. Guilt-ridden. Still paranoid, when we visit him months ago."
"Good," Sico said with a faint smile. "Means he's smart."
She let out a soft exhale—half sigh, half laugh. "You always were better at seeing potential in people than I was."
Sico gave a modest shrug. "You saw potential in me once. Maybe we're even."
That got a real smile from her. Brief, but honest.
"I'll reach out to him after you leave," he said, moving back toward his desk. "Prep a small recon unit for the Glowing Sea. I'm not bringing a convoy—just a couple Commandos and Robert, maybe. Someone to drive, someone to keep the rad levels manageable."
Nora nodded. "When?"
"As soon as I get the next batch of scan team reports squared away. Couple days, tops."
He paused again, resting his hands on the back of his chair.
"But in the meantime, I need you back in the Institute. Keep your head down. Stay quiet. Listen more than you speak. And if you hear anything—anything—about synthetic infiltrators, scanning protocols, Institute operatives going off the grid… I want to know the moment you can get it to me."
Nora's expression sobered again. She gave a single, decisive nod. "I'll find out what I can. I'll keep the cover intact. But if they start sniffing around the scanner's origins…"
"They will," Sico interrupted. "They're not just paranoid. They're smart. They'll be looking for weaknesses. Leaks. False positives. Any reason to discredit the scanner and everything we've built around it."
She exhaled. "I'll be careful."
He stepped forward then, not quickly, just deliberately—closing the distance until they stood shoulder to shoulder again. Their gazes locked, years of war, pain, leadership, and loss flashing wordlessly between them.
"I trust you, Nora," he said quietly. "Even if I doubted once… I don't anymore."
"I know," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "That's why I came back."
They stood there in silence for a few long seconds, not needing to say more.
Then she straightened her jacket, gave him a crisp nod, and stepped toward the far end of the room where the teleportation beacon stood—faintly humming, its soft lights dancing across the floor like ripples in a pond. She turned back one last time.
"You sure you're okay with sending me back in?"
"I trust your heart," Sico said. "Even if I don't trust that place."
She offered a dry smile. "Then I guess I'll try not to get myself turned into a science experiment."
"Do your best," he replied.
A beat later, the beacon flared white.
And then she was gone.
Sico stood still for a moment, staring at the space where she had stood, then turned back to his desk. He took a seat, pulled a fresh report toward him and set his jaw, as there was still so much to do.
Two days had passed since Nora disappeared in a flash of white light, leaving the Minutemen command center feeling a little quieter, a little heavier. The days hadn't exactly been peaceful. The scanner teams were expanding rapidly—new settlements being logged, more citizens tested. Every hour brought a new batch of reports, new names cleared, a few flagged, and a few investigations quietly underway.
But today wasn't about scanners or politics or hidden agendas.
Today was about a promise.
The low rumble of a diesel engine echoed across the Sanctuary yard as Sico slid out from beneath the truck, his hands smeared with grease and grit. He wiped them on a rag tucked into his belt and stood back, inspecting the vehicle with a look that blended pride with grim anticipation.
The truck was an they build months ago. Now reinforced, and retrofitted for the kind of terrain the Glowing Sea demanded. Thick radiation shielding lined the cabin and cargo bay. Reinforced wheels, modified suspension, a makeshift air filtration unit patched together with parts from an old Vault-Tec purifier. It wasn't elegant, but it would get them there—and back.
Hopefully.
Robert approached from the side, his combat armor clinking faintly with each step. He had a large crate slung over one shoulder and a fresh pack of energy cells clipped to his belt.
"Engine sounds solid," he said, setting the crate down with a grunt. "We good to roll soon?"
"Almost," Sico replied. He popped the hood one last time and leaned in, making a few final adjustments to the coolant line. "Just topped off the rad scrubbers. We won't get more than forty minutes of downtime once we hit the Dead Zone, but it'll keep us from glowing in the dark."
Robert chuckled. "Wouldn't want that."
From the Minutemen garage's side entrance, Sarah came jogging over, carrying a pair of sealed radiation meters. She looked winded, but her expression was focused—mission mode.
"Hazmat suits are ready," she said, handing Sico one of the meters. "Triple sealed. Breathable liners. Each suit's been tested twice for micro-leaks. Preston's doing a final check on the oxygen canisters."
"Good," Sico nodded. He glanced down at the meter in his hand. It pulsed softly—green for now, but that would change fast once they left the safety of the outer settlements. "How many canisters are we packing?"
"Ten," she replied. "Two each, plus spares. That'll give you close to eight hours before anyone starts running short on clean air."
"Let's hope we don't need that long," Robert muttered.
Across the yard, Preston was kneeling beside a row of crates, checking through water packs, MREs, Rad-X injectors, and power cores. His coat was slung over a fence post, sleeves rolled up, his face grim with focus. He stood when he saw Sico approaching.
"You sure about this?" Preston asked, his voice low. "You don't have to go in yourself. You could send the Commandos."
"I could," Sico replied, "but I won't. This mission's about trust. If I want Virgil to believe we're offering him more than another temporary hiding hole, I need to be the one shaking his hand. Not some armed courier."
Preston nodded slowly, then handed over a sealed satchel. "Rad-absorption meds. Take them every four hours while you're in the zone. It won't stop the radiation, but it'll buy you some time."
Sico took it, clasped Preston on the shoulder. "Thanks."
Preston gave a small, proud smile. "Come back in one piece, General."
By mid-morning, the Commandos began to assemble. Each one moved with precision, confidence—veterans who had seen the worst the Wasteland had to offer and kept moving forward. They wore dark combat suits under their hazmat shells, Minutemen insignias painted subtly across their chests. No words were needed between them. They knew the job.
Robert stood by the truck, loading the final crates into the back while double-checking his rifle. "Still can't believe we're walking into the Glowing Sea like it's a Sunday picnic."
Sico smirked. "What's life without a little radstorm?"
The team finished their final checks, then suited up. Sarah helped Sico zip his hazmat shell, checking every seal with a practiced eye before handing him a wrist-mounted Geiger counter and a beacon.
"Just in case," she said.
Sico nodded. "You'll get updates every thirty minutes. If you lose contact for more than two hours—assume the worst."
"We won't lose contact," Sarah said firmly. "Not this time."
Sico looked around the yard one last time. Sanctuary stretched out behind them, quiet and steady under the morning sun. He saw the scaffolding where kids were helping hammer together a new guard tower. Saw settlers moving crates of food and supplies to a new depot. Life—hard-earned, but real.
He turned back to the truck and climbed into the passenger seat as Robert took the wheel. The five Commandos climbed into the armored bay behind them, locking the hatch shut.
The engine roared to life.
The truck pulled out onto the road, tires crunching over gravel and broken asphalt. Behind them, Preston and Sarah watched in silence, arms folded, eyes locked on the retreating vehicle.
Ahead, the horizon darkened.
They were heading toward the edge of the world.
Toward the place no one returned from.
Toward Virgil.
And the truth.
The first stretch of road passed in quiet resolve. The further they drove, the more the world around them began to wither. Trees gave way to blackened husks. Grass faded to ash. The sky darkened to a sickly yellow-green haze, the wind picking up with a low, endless howl.
________________________________________________
• 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:-