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The evening stretched on, shadows lengthening, the hum of servos and distant calls blending into a rhythm of preparation and determination.
The next day arrived with a slow, muted kind of light, the sort of gray morning that seemed to press gently against the windows rather than burst through them. Sanctuary had been unusually quiet at dawn. The usual hum of the generators and the distant clatter of early training drills hadn't yet begun their daily rhythm, leaving the compound held in a fragile stillness. It was a stillness Sico noticed the moment he stepped into his office at the Freemasons' headquarters — a stillness he welcomed, even if only for the span of a few heartbeats.
Stacks of reports were already waiting on his desk like silent demands for attention. Patrol logs, supply manifests, technical breakdowns on turret rotation wear, synth deployment summaries, Brotherhood movement patterns, agriculture yields, and general logistical updates. He moved through them with steady precision, his eyes scanning quickly yet carefully, mind absorbing each relevant detail. The dim lamp on his desk cast a warm circle of amber light with the only illumination in the otherwise cool, shadowed room.
He rubbed the side of his thumb against the corner of one report, feeling the thin paper scrape lightly against his skin. Another night of minimal sleep left a faint tension in his neck, but his thoughts remained sharp. They had to be. Sanctuary's stability depended on it.
A small sigh escaped him before he even noticed it. The previous evening's training sessions played back in his mind like a quiet film: the defectors' stiff movements slowly loosening into something more competent; Sarah's voice calm and steady; Preston's precise commands; the Freemasons veterans guiding with the familiar confidence of survivalists hardened by experience. Progress had been earned hour by hour, drill by drill. It had left him cautiously optimistic.
He flipped a page. His eyes narrowed slightly at a line about armor coolant supply usage. The defectors' practice had used more than expected. Maybe nerves. Maybe they were pushing themselves too hard. Maybe—
A sudden, rapid series of footsteps echoed down the hall.
Not hurried. Not casual. Running.
Sico's head lifted immediately.
The footsteps grew louder, sharper, frantic enough to break the morning calm like a crack in glass. Before he could fully rise from his seat, the office door slammed open so abruptly the hinges protested with a metallic groan.
Curie stumbled inside.
She burst through the doorway with the momentum of someone who hadn't stopped running since the moment she decided she needed to find him. Sweat beaded across her forehead, matting loose strands of hair to her temples. Her white shirt that usually pristine, neatly pressed was soaked through, clinging to her skin, the fabric darkened there where exertion had drenched it. She was gasping, chest rising and falling in sharp waves, hands braced against her knees as she tried to breathe.
Sico shot up from his chair instantly.
"Curie?" His voice cut through the room, low but filled with immediate concern. "What's going on? What happened?"
She opened her mouth, but only a breathless wheeze came out at first. She raised one hand as if to signal him to wait then forced herself to stand upright. Her eyes, wide with urgency, locked onto his.
"S-Sico…" she managed, still gasping, still trying to gather enough air to form words. "I… I went to check… the hospital's medical supply… as part of the morning review and… mon Dieu…"
She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, wiping sweat away, but the gesture did nothing to clear the obvious panic tightening her features.
"What is it?" Sico stepped closer, voice steady but edged with seriousness now. "Are we dealing with an outbreak? A contamination? An injury surge?"
She shook her head sharply, then inhaled hard.
"No… no outbreak, no injury wave," she said, though the reassurance did nothing to soften the dread in her tone. "But… we have another problem. A very serious one."
He waited patient, but taut with anticipation.
Curie swallowed, breath finally evening out enough for her to speak more clearly.
"Sico… we are dangerously low on almost everything."
He blinked. "Everything?"
"Everything," she repeated, voice trembling at the edges but firm in its certainty. "Bandages, blood packs, antibiotics, surgical gauze, disinfectant, Med-X as all almost gone or nearly so." She paused, shaking her head as though she couldn't fully process it herself. "The only things we have in any decent supply are stimpaks and Radaway."
Sico felt his chest tighten.
That was bad. Very bad.
Stimpaks and Radaway were essential, yes, but they weren't enough. A stimpak could close wounds, replenish tissue, give temporary relief. Radaway could flush radiation sickness. But neither replaced the need for proper medical treatment. Surgery could not be performed with stimpaks alone. Infection control required disinfectant. Blood loss required transfusion packs. Deep injuries required sutures and anaesthetic.
He exhaled slowly, one hand instinctively raising to rub the bridge of his nose for a moment before lowering it again. "How low are we talking?" he asked quietly. "Enough to last a week? A few days?"
Curie shook her head again, her expression twisting in a mix of frustration and alarm.
"Two or three weeks if we are lucky," she said. "And that is with strict rationing."
Sico's jaw tightened. His mind shifted instantly into tactical mode, assessing consequences, calculating risks, mapping out variables.
A medical shortage wasn't an inconvenience.
It was a vulnerability.
It was exactly the kind of weakness the Brotherhood or any enemy, would hope to exploit.
"What about the recent supply deliveries?" he asked. "I thought we received two crates from the southern settlement last week."
"We did," Curie said, voice rising slightly with the emotional weight she carried. "But their 'crates' were half-empty. They have shortages of their own and could not spare more. And after I checked the inventory again this morning, I discovered several items we believed were in stock were merely mislabeled or misplaced. I… I do not think anyone intended to deceive… it was just poor record keeping. Mistakes that piled up."
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, knuckles whitening.
"I should have checked sooner," she whispered, guilt slipping through the cracks in her voice. "I usually monitor the supply every two days but with the influx of defectors, the wounded, and the children's vaccination schedules, I—"
"Curie." Sico's voice cut the guilt off before it spiraled further. He stepped in front of her, his tone firm but gentle. "This is not your fault. You've done more than anyone could reasonably expect."
She pressed her lips together, trembling slightly, but she nodded.
For a brief moment, the room settled into a heavy silence. Only Curie's lingering breathlessness broke it that soft, uneven, reminding him just how hard she must have sprinted here.
Sico turned toward his desk, mind already racing through everything this problem could affect. Their upcoming operations. Their defenses. Their ability to sustain casualties. Their ability to treat the defectors still adjusting to new command and new battle techniques.
This shortage threatened everything.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself before he spoke.
"All right," he said, turning back to her. "We'll tackle this quickly before it becomes a crisis." He gestured toward the chair across from his desk. "Sit for a moment. You look like you've been running for miles."
She hesitated as Curie rarely allowed herself to sit when urgency pressed against her, but her legs buckled slightly as she nodded and lowered herself carefully into the seat. Sweat still clung to her skin, rolling in thin lines down her temples, her hair sticking damply to her collarbone.
Sico returned to his own chair but didn't sit until he pulled open one of the side drawers, retrieving a clean cloth and a flask of cool water.
He handed them to her.
Curie blinked at him, startled by the gesture, then offered a small, grateful smile before dabbing her face, wiping away the sweat that now chilled her skin. She took a sip of the water, letting out a small breath afterward, finally beginning to regain herself.
"Merci…" she whispered. "I… I apologize for bursting in like that. But I did not know who else to run to first."
"You did the right thing," Sico said simply. "Always come to me first with something like this."
Curie nodded slowly, her breathing finally settling into a steadier rhythm. Still, she looked pale under the flush of exertion, eyes wide with concern.
When she was calm enough, Sico leaned back, elbows resting lightly on the arms of his chair, and began to think out loud.
"We need immediate replenishment," he said. "More than we can gather through trading alone."
Curie's brows drew together. "I considered sending some of Hancock team to search the ruins of the old hospitals east of here," she offered. "But most of them were raided or destroyed. And the ones that remain…" She shivered faintly. "Mutated creatures nest inside. Too dangerous to search without a large team. And a large team will draw attention."
Sico nodded. "We can't risk casualties just to look for dwindling scraps. Not when we're need to maintain our defenses."
He thought deeper, faster.
"We might need to consider external support," he said after a moment. "Possibly the Institute, as they sometimes have medical supply at their base."
Curie frowned. "The Institute will help as Nora was the leader now, yes, but their stock could be also limited. Synth injuries in their war againts Brotherhood drained them significantly in recent months."
"True." Sico's fingertips tapped gently against his desk. "In that case… we may need to send a specialized team. Not a large one. Just enough to slip into the more dangerous territories."
Curie looked at him, nervous but attentive.
"You mean a recovery team," she said softly.
"Yes," Sico replied. "Led by someone experienced with dangerous environments. We'll need stealth, speed, and knowledge of old-world medical wings."
Curie took another sip of water, her throat visibly tightening around the anxiety she still carried. "I will prepare a full assessment list," she said. "A detailed breakdown of what we have left and what we critically require. If you need me to also join—"
"No." Sico's tone softened but remained unwavering. "You're the last person I can afford to send."
Curie blinked, surprised. "But I—"
"Curie," he said calmly, "you're the best doctor we have. If anything happens to you out there, Sanctuary loses its healer. The Freemasons lose their medical pillar. Nora loses support for Shaun. We can't replace you."
The words visibly struck her, not in a prideful way but in a deeply emotional one. Her lips parted, eyes widening just slightly before she lowered her gaze.
"I… I understand," she murmured. "But please, Sico… whoever you send… choose carefully. These supplies could mean life or death. For many."
"I know," he replied quietly.
Curie looked up again after a long moment. There was something else swimming behind her eyes that something she had been holding back since the moment she burst into his office.
"Sico… there is more."
He felt a subtle shift in the air.
"What is it?" he asked.
She took a breath.
"When I checked the shelves… and realized the medical stock was nearly gone…" She hesitated, her fingers curling anxiously around the cloth he had given her. "I tried to calculate how much we could conserve if we limited treatment only to severe cases."
Sico leaned forward slightly.
"And?"
Curie closed her eyes briefly, as though bracing herself.
"Even with strict rationing, we will not have enough in the next two month."
The room went silent.
The soft hum of the lamp became the only sound between them.
Sico's heart didn't drop, didn't panic, but it hardened, turning heavier. Curie's words settled into him like a stone sinking into deep water. Heavy. Inevitable.
He nodded once slowly, with controlled motion then spoke quietly.
"Then we don't wait," he said. "We take action now."
Curie looked at him, eyes searching his face for some reassurance, some answer, some strategy that could turn this looming crisis around.
Sico rose from his chair, walked to the window beside the balcony door, and stared out at the compound. The training fields lay quiet now, empty of T-60 armor drills, the morning sun stretching slowly across the gravel and rusted railings. But the memory of last night's training still lingered — the defectors, the Freemasons, the unity that was forming like a fragile but powerful thread binding them together.
Sanctuary's people were willing.
Sanctuary's people were strong.
But strength meant nothing without the ability to heal the wounded.
He placed a hand lightly on the window frame.
"We'll fix this," he said quietly but firmly. "We will find what we need. I promise you that."
Curie remained seated, watching him with a mixture of worry and hope. Her voice was softer when she finally spoke again.
"What will you do?"
Sico breathed in slowly before turning back toward her, eyes steady, sharp, determined.
"First," he said, "I'll call a meeting with Sarah, Preston, and Hancock. We need to organize a supply recovery mission immediately. Second, we need to adjust training schedules to minimize unnecessary injuries. Third, we prepare for tighter rationing until this is resolved."
He paused, meeting her gaze with the full weight of his conviction.
"And fourth… we make sure the Brotherhood never learns about this weakness."
Curie swallowed, then nodded slowly. "I will keep it quiet," she said. "I will tell only the essential staff. Not even the defectors will know."
"Good," Sico replied. "The fewer who know, the safer we all are."
Curie took a deep breath, gathering her remaining strength. Her shirt still clung to her skin, damp and cool now, but her breathing was steady. She wiped the last streaks of sweat from her face, then set the cloth down gently on the desk, folding it neatly as even in panic, her precision remained.
"Sico… thank you for listening," she whispered. "I was afraid you would… I do not know… underestimate the urgency."
He gave her a faint, tired but sincere smile.
"I never underestimate you," he said. "Or anything that sends you running into my office drenched in sweat."
Sico let out one slow breath, letting the weight of the room settle properly on his shoulders. Curie had calmed, but the tremor beneath her steady posture hadn't completely faded. She had given him the truth that raw, unfiltered, urgent, and now it lived between them like a second presence, one he could not ignore for even a heartbeat.
He straightened, turning his head toward the door.
A soldier stood at attention just outside the open frame that's young, broad-shouldered, his rifle slung neatly against his chest. He had snapped upright the moment Curie stormed in earlier, and from the look in his eyes he had probably been trying to decide whether to barge in or wait for orders.
"Soldier," Sico called, his tone firm but not harsh.
The man stepped forward immediately. "Yes, sir?"
"I need you to find Sarah, Preston, and Hancock. All three of them. Tell them to come to my office immediately, this is an urgent matter."
"Yes, sir!" the soldier barked. No hesitation. He pivoted sharply and sprinted down the hall, the thud of his boots echoing away until it blended with the returning rhythms of Sanctuary beyond.
The moment he was gone, Sico turned back to Curie. She looked smaller now that the adrenaline had burned itself out with tired, worn thin by responsibility, yet still trying her best to sit upright and composed.
"You don't have to stay for the meeting if you need to rest," he offered.
Curie shook her head immediately, strands of damp hair shifting across her cheeks. "Non… I should be here. I must hear what is decided. Medical planning cannot wait."
He studied her for a moment. The stubbornness in her gaze was familiar, the same fire she used when defending patients or challenging outdated medical doctrine. And though he wanted her to rest, he knew she wouldn't. Not while lives were involved.
"Very well," he said softly. "Stay."
The two fell into a quiet that was heavy but not uncomfortable. A few minutes passed, the silence broken only by Curie's slow breaths and the occasional rustle of papers as Sico sorted the immediate reports into neat stacks with supply manifests on the left, patrol logs on the right, and a separate pile for items that could no longer be delayed.
He didn't need the meeting's outcome to be successful; it had to be.
Eventually, footsteps echoed from the hallway that steady, organized, purposeful. Three distinct rhythms: Sarah's sharp stride, Preston's solid, grounded gait, and Hancock's lazy yet somehow precise saunter.
The office door swung open.
Sarah entered first as her tall, lean, posture rigid with command. Her dark hair was tied back tightly, her expression focused, eyes scanning the room the moment she stepped inside. With Sarah, concern never reached her face until she had assessed every angle, every person, every threat.
Preston walked in behind her, the reliable anchor in any storm. He offered Curie a nod the moment he saw her flushed complexion and slightly shaky hands that polite, concerned, but not prying. Preston had a way of acknowledging things without forcing anyone to speak before they were ready.
Last came Hancock, leaning on the doorway for half a beat before striding inside with his usual swagger. His coat swayed behind him as he walked, his expression unusually serious beneath the skull-like paint and rakish hat. He glanced first at Sico, then at Curie, and a small frown creased the corner of his mouth.
"Well," Hancock drawled, "judging by Curie lookin' like she sprinted through a deathclaw nest, I'm guessin' this ain't a social visit."
Sico motioned for the door to close behind them. Preston nudged it shut gently, sealing the office in a private sphere.
"Everyone," Sico began, voice steady but undeniably grave, "we have a crisis."
Sarah stepped forward immediately, hands clasped behind her back. "What happened?"
Curie swallowed, looking momentarily unsure whether to speak or let Sico handle it. Sico gave her a small nod that not commanding, but granting permission.
Curie lifted her chin and spoke with clinical precision, though the tremor beneath her words remained.
"Our medical supply is nearly gone," she said. "Not low, not dwindling, but almost completely depleted."
The reaction hit all three differently.
Preston's brows snapped downward, the shock plain on his normally calm face. "How depleted?"
"Most essentials will be gone within two or three weeks," Curie replied. "Even with strict rationing."
Sarah inhaled sharply through her nose, but one that carried sharp concern. "Which ones specifically?"
"Blood packs, antibiotics, gauze, disinfectant, anaesthetic, surgical kits, alcohol sterilizers," Curie listed, ticking each one off with increasing heaviness. "Med-X is nearly gone. Bandages are at maybe fifteen percent."
Hancock let out a low whistle, his expression darkening. "Well, shit."
Curie nodded sadly. "Only stimpaks and Radaway remain in acceptable numbers."
Sarah's posture tensed. "Stimpaks don't fix infection."
"Exactement," Curie murmured. "And without disinfectants and gauze, even small wounds could become fatal."
Sico stepped forward then, placing both hands on his desk and leaning slightly toward them.
"We cannot let this become public knowledge," he said flatly. "Not yet. Not until we have a plan."
Preston nodded firmly. "Agreed. People panic enough when ammo runs low. Medical panic? That spreads twice as fast."
Sarah crossed her arms, jaw tight. "Who knows so far?"
"Just Curie, myself, and now all of you," Sico said. "No one else."
Hancock raised a brow. "And we keep it that way?"
"For now," Sico answered. "We can't risk the Brotherhood catching wind of this. They're looking for any weakness."
Sarah and Preston exchanged a short, silent glance with a commander's understanding passing between them.
Curie looked down at her hands. "I… I blame myself for not discovering it sooner…"
But Sico cut in with a tone that tolerated no self-blame.
"This is not on you, Curie. Mistakes in labeling, shortages from suppliers, chaos as these things happen. What matters now is how we respond."
Curie's lips trembled faintly, but she nodded.
Sico straightened fully and addressed the room.
"We need three immediate actions. First, training adjustments."
He turned to Preston and Sarah.
"You two will revise the training schedule across the board. Reduce injury risks. No heavy sparring unless absolutely necessary. No live-weapon drills without triple precaution. No high-velocity drills that could cause sprains or fractures."
Preston nodded slowly. "We can do that. Focus more on formation work, communication drills, dry-running maneuvers. Less combat impact."
Sarah added, "I'll revise the schedule by noon. I'll pull senior instructors to supervise every session personally. Not a single reckless move gets past us."
"Good," Sico said. "That buys us precious time."
Then he turned to Hancock.
"Hancock."
Hancock grinned, though only half-heartedly. "Lemme guess. You need a scav team."
"I do," Sico replied. "A specialized one. Stealth-focused. Fast. Capable of navigating old hospitals and medical ruins."
Hancock's grin faded into something more serious, thoughtful. "You're talkin' the bad places, then. Places people don't come back from unless they know how to dance with monsters."
"Yes," Sico said. "We can't afford a big team. Too obvious. Too risky. But a small, well-prepared one could bring back more than enough."
Curie pressed a hand against her chest nervously. "Those places… they are dangerous. The last time we scouted the old surgical wing north of the river, four soldiers were attacked by mutated wolves."
"And we learned from that," Hancock said gently. "This time, we'll go better prepared."
Sico pointed at him. "I want your best scavengers. People with experience. No rookies. And I want you ready within two hours."
Hancock tapped his fingers on the side of his thigh, mentally sorting through names. "I got a few oddballs who fit the bill. Ace, Bones, Marlowe, and maybe Wren if she's not hungover. They're quiet. Quick. Know how to slip past trouble instead of fighting it."
Sico nodded. "Good. But they won't be going alone."
He turned back to Preston and Sarah.
"I need each of you to assign soldiers to assist Hancock's team. Defensive support. No more than four each. The group needs to be strong enough to handle threats, but small enough to stay hidden."
Sarah immediately began calculating. "Four from my best frontline defenders. No power armor. Too loud. I'll choose soldiers with good knife work and silent takedown skills."
Preston rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'll pick scouts. People who know how to move between ruins without drawing eyes. No hotheads. Nobody who thinks stealth means 'walk softer.' Actual stealth."
Hancock chuckled once. "Good. Last thing I need is a trigger-happy guy blowing our cover."
Sico let them speak, but his gaze drifted briefly to the window as Sanctuary still resting in the soft morning light, quiet, unknowing, peaceful. That peace was a fragile thing. One wrong strike from the Brotherhood, one careless accident, one outbreak of infection… and everything could spiral.
He couldn't let that happen.
When he turned back, he carried that determination in his posture.
"This mission will be dangerous," he said. "But it's necessary. Without medical supplies, we won't survive the coming months."
Everyone fell silent, absorbing that truth.
Curie looked down again, voice soft. "I will compile a list of the essential items you must prioritize. And a secondary list if you find any extras."
Sico nodded. "Good. Bring it as soon as it's ready."
Sarah finally uncrossed her arms. "We'll cut down injury risk immediately. I'll have revised training posted within the hour."
Preston added, "I'll have my soldiers briefed and ready for assignment in under two."
Hancock stretched his arms lazily, but his eyes were sharp. "Give me thirty minutes to find my people. Another thirty to prep them. We'll be ready before noon."
Curie let out a slow breath, relief mixed with lingering dread. "Merci… truly."
Sico stepped beside her. "Curie, your part now is rest. Drink water. Eat something. Then bring the list when you're ready. You've done more than enough."
She hesitated, but Preston offered her a gentle nod, the unspoken reassurance of a man who had seen many people carry burdens they shouldn't have had to.
Curie finally stood, though slowly, as if exhaustion tugged at every muscle. "I… will try."
Sico gestured toward the room's exit, and Sarah, Preston, and Hancock followed her out, leaving the office one by one with purposeful strides.
Two hours later, the team was ready.
Not "ready" in the way a squad looked ready on paper, with polished weapons and crisp posture, but ready in the way that came from grit, stubbornness, and the quiet understanding that what they were about to do could make the difference between life and decay for everyone in Sanctuary.
The truck waited at the edge of the yard, engine thrumming with a low, rough idle. Its paint was faded, streaked with dust and old scrapes, but the machine had heart as Hancock always joked that the damn thing had more personality than half the people in the Commonwealth.
Hancock himself stood at the driver's side door, one boot resting confidently on the step rail, his coat swaying with each lazy shift of the wind. There was no swagger today; his movements were focused, almost sharp. The scavengers he had selected with Ace, Bones, Marlowe, and Wren were loading the last of their gear into the back alongside the eight soldiers Preston and Sarah had assigned.
Ace checked over a pack of supplies with practiced speed, his blond hair tied back and a smear of soot across his jaw. Bones moved more slowly, carefully placing each blade and silenced pistol as though arranging instruments for surgery. Marlowe muttered to himself while organizing maps and old Commonwealth schematics. And Wren who has hungover but still deadly had already slipped into the back of the truck and sat sharpening her combat knife with an irritated scowl, her motions fast and precise.
Sarah's four handpicked soldiers stood in a clean formation near the loading ramp. Light armor only, no power armor as Sico had been right about the noise. Their movements were controlled, disciplined, ready for silent combat. Preston's scouts were quieter, almost ghostlike, slipping in and out of the truck's shadow as they checked their gear and final route plans.
A thin morning haze clung to the air, faintly golden from the early sun. Sanctuary smelled of wood smoke and fresh soil, a deceptively peaceful scent considering what lay ahead.
Sico stood with Curie, Preston, and Sarah near the gate, all four of them silently watching as Hancock gave last-minute instructions to the scavengers.
The atmosphere was thick with unspoken implications. Every one of them understood that the next hours could shift the direction of their community. Without medical supplies, the Republic could stagger, bleed, falter. And if the Brotherhood struck at the wrong time…
They couldn't afford it. Not now. Not ever.
Sico's arms were folded behind his back, but there was tension in his shoulders, the kind that came from too many responsibilities, too many threats stacking on top of one another like loaded mines.
Curie looked infinitely better than she had earlier, but not fully recovered. Her exhaustion hid behind professionally controlled posture, though Sico noticed the slight sag in her stance and how she kept one hand resting against her stomach as if grounding herself.
The truck revved once, a signal rather than impatience.
Hancock glanced toward the group by the gate and tipped his hat in their direction. "We'll bring back the good stuff," he called out, voice raising only enough to be heard. "Nobody dies on my watch today."
Sarah gave a single nod, stern but trusting. Preston raised a hand in quiet solidarity.
Sico stepped forward, voice carrying without shouting. "Bring them home safe, all of them."
Hancock grinned. "I aim to."
He climbed into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut with a metallic thud. Ace banged twice on the side panel to signal they were all loaded.
The engine growled louder.
And then the truck pulled forward.
Slow at first, navigating carefully through the inner court of Sanctuary as past the mess hall, past the training yard, past the construction scaffolding still adorned with early-morning workers who paused to watch the convoy roll by.
Then the truck gained speed as it approached the massive gate. Two guards swung the metal doors outward, letting the vehicle pass through.
For a brief moment, as the truck crossed the threshold, sunlight caught the windshield and flashed across the yard like a sharp reflection.
And then it was gone with humming down the cracked road beyond Sanctuary, carrying with it the weight of their hopes.
Curie's shoulders fell slightly, as if her breath finally released after being trapped for too long. "Mon Dieu… please let them return safely."
"They will," Preston said, voice steady but soft. "Hancock doesn't take missions like this lightly."
Sarah didn't say anything, but her jaw clenched with the tension of someone already planning contingencies if things went wrong.
Sico watched the dust settling on the road long after the truck had disappeared from sight. Only once the last trace faded did he speak.
"All right," he murmured. "Time for the next step."
Curie looked up at him, concern flickering in her eyes. "Sico… what will you do now?"
He turned toward her, expression firm with resolve. "I'm going to try to contact Nora."
At the mention of her name, Curie blinked not in offense, but in understanding. "She is at the Institute, yes?"
"Yes," Sico replied. "She should be. And if anyone has access to medical-grade supplies right now… it's them."
Preston nodded slowly. "It's worth a try. Nora's got influence down there."
Curie looked down, curling one hand around the edge of her sleeve. "She will help us. Nora has a good heart."
Sico placed a hand gently on her arm not for comfort alone, but for reassurance, for shared resolve. "I know she will."
He turned toward Sarah next.
"And Sarah, I need you to deliver a message."
Sarah straightened immediately. "To who?"
"To Magnolia."
Sarah blinked in surprise. "Magnolia?"
"Yes," Sico said. "She was our treasure after all and has connections with the traders, ones that don't involve the usual caravan networks. The kind that can get items off the books."
Preston nodded, recognizing the strategy. "Quiet routes. Backdoor markets. Traders who don't ask questions."
"Exactly," Sico replied. "Tell her we need her to buy medical supply, anything she can get her hands on. And tell her to keep it quiet."
Sarah's brows lowered. "Quiet as in… under the table?"
"Quiet as in," Sico said, lowering his voice, "no one, not even her closest regulars, should suspect that Sanctuary is looking for supplies. We can't risk outsiders believing we're weak."
Curie frowned with a soft fear. "If other factions knew, they might see opportunity."
"Or an advantage," Preston muttered darkly.
"Which," Sico added, "we can't give them."
Sarah nodded once with crisp, certain, already forming the delivery plan in her mind. "I'll get the message to Magnolia personally. She won't slip up."
"Good," Sico said. "I trust you."
Curie inhaled softly, as if steadying herself before she spoke. "Sico… contacting Nora… will it take long?."
"No," Sico replied. "And if she can spare even a fraction of what they have… it could buy us months."
Curie clasped her hands together tightly. "Then I pray she answers."
Sico took one last look at the empty gate, where the dust still lingered faintly in the air as the only lingering sign of the team that had just left.
He imagined Hancock gripping the steering wheel, the scavengers preparing for danger, Sarah's soldiers ready to protect them, Preston's scouts slipping through shadows.
Every second they were out there, Sanctuary's fate hung in the balance.
"Let's move," Sico said quietly, but with strength.
He gestured for Curie, Preston, and Sarah to follow him back toward the command building, each step deliberate and heavy.
As they walked, Curie stayed close to his side, and Sico could feel the anxious energy radiating off her that not chaotic, but deeply human. She cared too much; she always had. It was both her greatest strength and her greatest weight.
Sarah broke ahead slightly, already fishing for her communicator, likely prepping the most secure line she could use to reach Magnolia without drawing attention.
Preston remained behind them, quiet, contemplative, already building new defensive plans in his head in case the supply mission failed. He took after the kind of leader who prepared for the worst but still fought for the best.
When they reached the command center steps, Sico paused, hand resting against the metal railing.
Curie turned to him. "Sico? Are you all right?"
He looked at her, at the sincerity in her eyes, the worry in her voice, the weariness she refused to let slow her.
"I'm fine," he said gently. "Just thinking."
Curie tilted her head. "About what?"
"Everything," he admitted. "The Brotherhood. Our supplies. Nora. The pressure we're putting on Hancock's team. Sanctuary… is growing. That's good. But growth means responsibility. And responsibility demands strength, as strength we can't afford to lack right now."
Curie placed her hand lightly on his forearm. "You do not carry this alone."
He gave her a small, tired smile. "Feels like it sometimes."
"You have us," she insisted softly. "You have Sarah. Preston. Hancock. Nora. Everyone. And me."
He swallowed at that, the sincerity of her words hitting deeper than he expected. "I know. And I'm grateful."
Curie squeezed his arm carefully. "Then breathe. And let us help you."
Sico exhaled slowly.
Then he straightened.
"Let's get to work."
They stepped inside the command building, the door thudding shut behind them like a seal against the outside world.
________________________________________________
• 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:-