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He stared at the ceiling, dazed but oddly… lighter. Tomorrow suddenly felt very real, and very complicated.
Then morning came differently this time.
Not filtered through antiseptic air and humming monitors, not framed by white walls and the quiet vigilance of medical staff. Morning came with the low, steady thrum of generators beneath the Freemasons Headquarters, with distant voices echoing through stone corridors, with the faint smell of oil, paper, and old concrete that had been repurposed into something resembling order.
Francesco sat at his desk.
Back where he belonged.
The office was exactly as he had left it with maps pinned to the walls, reports stacked in careful, precarious towers, a half-finished cup of coffee cooling forgotten near his right hand. Sunlight filtered through the reinforced window slats, cutting pale lines across the desk and the floor beyond.
He was alive.
He was upright.
He was working.
And yet, for the fifth time in as many minutes, his pen hovered uselessly above the page as his thoughts drifted far, far away from the document in front of him.
Nora.
Or rather.
When Nora leaning in.
Nora's fingers catching at his side.
Nora calling him a dummy.
Nora kissing his cheek.
Nora teleporting away like she hadn't just detonated his entire emotional equilibrium.
Francesco groaned quietly and leaned back in his chair, dragging one hand down his face.
"Get it together," he muttered to himself.
The paperwork in front of him was important from logistics reports, supply routes, defensive readiness summaries. Things he usually tore through with ruthless efficiency. Today, the words blurred together, refusing to stick.
Because every time his mind went still, it replayed that moment.
Not dramatically. Not embellished.
Just exactly as it had happened.
The warmth of her touch.
The firmness in her voice.
The way her composure had cracked just enough to let something raw show through.
And the realization which is late, embarrassingly late that he liked her.
No.
That he had liked her for a long time.
He straightened abruptly in his chair, the realization landing fully now that the chaos had settled.
"Oh," he said aloud.
The sound echoed faintly in the office.
"Oh."
It wasn't sudden. That was the worst part. Looking back, the signs were everywhere as how easily she unsettled him in a room full of generals, how her approval mattered more than he'd ever admitted, how her absence had always felt heavier than it should have.
He'd just… filed it away. Buried it beneath responsibility and war and survival.
And now she'd kissed him and left him alone with it.
He exhaled sharply, fingers tapping against the armrest.
Sarah's voice echoed in his head.
She risked teleporting into a hospital during wartime for you.
Piper's laughter followed close behind.
You absolute idiot.
Francesco closed his eyes briefly.
"Yeah," he admitted to the empty room. "I know."
He leaned forward again, forcing himself back to the paperwork, if only to ground himself in something concrete. He signed off on a requisition order, initialed a logistics reroute, stamped approval on a patrol expansion.
Muscle memory carried him through it.
His mind, however, kept circling the same question.
What now?
He wasn't a teenager stumbling through his first crush. He was a leader in a fractured world, a man whose decisions shaped lives and borders. And Nora wasn't just anyone. She was the leader of the Institute. Brilliant. Dangerous. Burdened with a past that never really stopped bleeding.
Asking her to be his girlfriend wasn't a casual thing.
It couldn't be.
He leaned back again, staring up at the ceiling this time, chair creaking softly beneath his weight.
"How do you even ask someone like her?" he murmured.
Not with flowers. There weren't any.
Not with dinner. The world didn't work like that anymore.
Not casually. Not impulsively.
And yet… she'd kissed him impulsively. She'd broken her own rules for him.
That had to count for something.
A knock sounded at the door.
Francesco straightened instantly. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal Preston, hat tucked under his arm, expression cautiously relieved in that way people had adopted around him since the collapse.
"Good to see you vertical," Preston said.
Francesco smiled faintly. "Good to be vertical."
"You sure you should be back already?" Preston asked, stepping inside.
"Curie cleared it," Francesco replied. "With enough warnings to last a lifetime."
Preston chuckled. "Sounds like her."
He glanced at the desk. "You working, or pretending to?"
Francesco hesitated a fraction too long.
Preston squinted. "You alright?"
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Just… thinking."
Preston nodded slowly. "That's usually more dangerous than exhaustion."
Francesco snorted despite himself.
They talked briefly with updates, patrols, supply lines. The familiar rhythm helped, grounding him again in the present. When Preston left, the office felt quieter than before.
Too quiet.
His gaze drifted, unbidden, to the far corner of the room where a small Institute communicator sat locked inside a reinforced case.
He hadn't used it since the war escalated.
He stood slowly, approaching it as though it might bite.
"I could just… talk to her," he reasoned. "Like a normal person."
He paused, fingers hovering above the latch.
Normal wasn't exactly their shared strength.
He laughed softly at himself and stepped back, shaking his head.
No. Not yet.
This mattered too much to rush.
He returned to his desk, picked up the pen again and finally set it down decisively.
"I need a plan," he said aloud.
The word plan settled him.
He pulled a blank sheet of paper toward himself and wrote at the top:
NORA
Then stared at it for a solid thirty seconds.
"…This is ridiculous," he muttered.
Still, he wrote beneath it.
Things She Values:
– Honesty
– Directness
– Loyalty
– Not wasting time
– Protecting the people she loves
He paused on that last one, pen hovering.
People she loves.
His chest tightened.
He continued.
Things She Hates:
– Being underestimated
– Bureaucratic nonsense
– Emotional evasion
– Being treated like glass
He leaned back again, studying the list.
"So," he said slowly, "no games. No theatrics. No half-truths."
Just… truth.
He exhaled, feeling something inside him settle into place.
He didn't need a perfect moment. He didn't need a flawless speech.
He needed to tell her how he felt.
And ask her clearly, or directly if she felt the same.
The idea was terrifying.
But the idea of not asking was worse.
His radio chimed softly.
Francesco glanced down at it, heart skipping before he even registered why.
It wasn't Nora.
It was Sarah.
You alive in there, or did paperwork finally kill you?
He smiled and replied
Alive. Questioning my life choices.
The response came almost immediately.
Oh? That's new. Want company?
He considered it, then replied:
Maybe later. I'm… thinking.
There was a pause.
Then:
About her?
He froze.
Slowly typed:
…Was I that obvious?
The reply took longer this time.
To everyone except you.
He laughed quietly, shaking his head.
I'm trying to figure out what to do.
Good, Sarah sent back. Because if you screw this up, Piper and I will never let you forget it.
That earned a genuine smile.
He set the radio aside and leaned back once more, eyes drifting to the window.
The afternoon crept in quietly, the way it often did underground with no dramatic shift in light, no obvious change in temperature. Just a subtle adjustment in the rhythm of the Headquarters. Patrol rotations changed. The mess hall filled. Radios crackled with updates that weren't urgent enough to interrupt anyone but important enough to be noted.
Francesco noticed none of it at first.
He was still seated at his desk, staring at the same sheet of paper he'd been staring at for the better part of an hour. The word NORA sat at the top, underlined once now, darker where his pen had lingered too long. Below it, the lists stared back at him like an accusation.
Honesty.
Directness.
Loyalty.
Not wasting time.
He exhaled slowly and pushed the paper aside, rubbing his temples.
"This is getting ridiculous," he muttered again, because saying it twice didn't make it less true.
He wasn't afraid of battle. He wasn't afraid of making enemies. He wasn't even afraid of making decisions that would haunt him later, because at least those had clear lines with cause and effect, risk and outcome.
This?
This was messy.
Personal.
And somehow far more intimidating.
A flicker of memory surfaced uninvited as Nora's expression when she'd looked at him in that hospital room, the way her composure had cracked just enough for him to see what sat beneath it. Not weakness. Never that.
Fear.
Fear of losing him.
The realization settled heavy in his chest.
"I need perspective," he said aloud, pushing his chair back and standing.
The mess hall was already loud when he arrived.
Voices overlapped in a constant hum with laughter, arguments over card games, the scrape of metal trays against long tables. The smell of cooked protein and something vaguely resembling bread hung in the air, warm and grounding in a way few things were these days.
Sarah was easy to spot, as always as she was leaned back in her chair, boots hooked around the legs, posture relaxed but alert. Piper sat across from her, animated as ever, mid-story, hands moving as much as her mouth. Magnolia sat beside them, posture immaculate even while eating, expression neutral but attentive. Curie occupied the remaining seat, carefully examining her food with the fascination of someone still deeply invested in the concept of "mealtime."
Francesco paused at the edge of the group, tray in hand, suddenly acutely aware of what he was about to do.
Ask how to approach a woman.
He almost turned around.
Almost.
Then Piper spotted him.
"Hey!" she called, waving him over with a grin. "Look who escaped his office."
Sarah glanced up, smirk already forming. "Miracles do happen."
Magnolia's gaze lifted more slowly, assessing him with her usual precision. Curie smiled brightly the moment she saw him.
"Ah! You are ambulatory and eating," Curie said, pleased. "This is excellent progress."
"High praise," Francesco replied faintly, setting his tray down and taking the open seat. "I feel truly accomplished."
They settled into the familiar rhythm of shared meals with passing comments about patrols, supplies, the latest minor disaster narrowly avoided. Francesco picked at his food, responding automatically, his attention split between the conversation and the weight building in his chest.
He waited.
Counted breaths.
Then finally.
"…Can I ask you all something?"
The table went quiet.
Not instantly. But noticeably.
Sarah looked at him sideways. Piper's grin sharpened. Magnolia set her fork down slowly. Curie tilted her head, curious.
"That depends," Piper said. "Is this going to make my day better?"
Francesco swallowed. "Possibly."
Sarah leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Go on."
He hesitated just long enough to make it worse.
"How," he began, then stopped, then forced himself to continue, "how do you approach a woman?"
Silence.
Absolute, stunned silence.
Forks froze mid-air.
Curie's eyes widened. Magnolia's composure cracked, but enough to be unmistakable.
Sarah blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Piper stared at him like he'd just spoken a foreign language.
"…I'm sorry," Piper said slowly. "Could you repeat that?"
Francesco felt heat creep up his neck. "I said—"
"No, no," Sarah cut in, holding up a hand. "We heard you. We're just… recalibrating reality."
Magnolia recovered first, brows drawing together. "Are you asking for strategic advice," she said carefully, "or emotional counsel?"
"Yes," Francesco said.
Curie's mouth opened slightly. "This is… unexpected."
Piper burst out laughing.
Not a polite chuckle. Not a quiet giggle.
Full, unrestrained laughter that echoed across the mess hall, drawing curious glances from nearby tables.
"Oh my god," Piper gasped, clutching her stomach. "Oh my god, he's serious."
Sarah stared at Francesco for a moment longer, then leaned back in her chair and laughed too, head tipping back.
"I cannot believe," she said between laughs, "that this is happening."
Francesco sighed and rubbed his face. "I regret everything."
"No you don't," Piper said, wiping at her eyes. "This is the best thing that's happened all week."
Magnolia cleared her throat sharply. "This is highly inappropriate—"
"And deeply entertaining," Piper finished.
Curie clasped her hands together, expression thoughtful. "I would also like to hear the answer," she said. "For academic reasons."
That only made Piper laugh harder.
Sarah finally got herself under control, leaning forward again, expression softening just a touch.
"Alright," she said. "Jokes aside. Who is she?"
Francesco hesitated.
Every eye at the table fixed on him.
"…Nora."
The reaction was immediate.
Curie's eyes widened further. Magnolia's shock this time was not subtle at all.
"Nora?" Curie repeated.
Magnolia's voice was sharp. "You mean that Nora?"
Piper slapped the table. "Called it."
Sarah didn't look surprised at all. She just smiled.
"Yes," Francesco said quietly. "That Nora."
Magnolia stared at him. "You are… asking how to court her."
"Yes."
"While she bush in the middle of a war."
"Yes."
Curie looked between them, visibly stunned. "But, you are already emotionally bonded, are you not?"
Francesco choked slightly. "I... what?"
Curie blinked. "Your physiological responses indicate—"
Piper waved a hand. "She means your feeling after the kiss."
Magnolia's and Curie's head snapped toward Piper. "The what?"
Sarah grinned.
Piper leaned back, thoroughly pleased with herself. "Oh, this is news?"
Magnolia looked at Sarah. "Please tell me she's joking."
Sarah smiled sweetly. "Nope."
Curie's hands flew to her mouth. "She kissed you?"
Francesco sank lower in his seat. "On the cheek."
"Still counts," Piper said immediately.
Magnolia stared at him, then at Sarah. "When?"
"Yesterday," Sarah replied easily. "In the hospital."
Magnolia pinched the bridge of her nose. "During an active conflict."
"Yes," Piper said cheerfully. "Very dramatic. Blue light, emotional confrontation, kiss, teleport exit. Ten out of ten."
Curie looked delighted. "How romantic."
"It was not romantic," Francesco muttered. "It was confusing."
Sarah laughed softly. "Welcome to the club."
Magnolia looked back at Francesco, studying him with new intensity. "And now you are asking how to proceed."
"Yes," he admitted. "Because I don't want to… mess this up."
Piper leaned forward, grin softening into something more genuine. "Alright, big guy. Here's the secret."
She tapped the table.
"You stop overthinking it."
Sarah nodded. "She already likes you."
Francesco blinked. "You're sure?"
Piper snorted. "She risked teleporting into a hospital in the middle of a war, yelled at you, called you a dummy, kissed you, and left. If that's not interest, I don't know what is."
Curie nodded enthusiastically. "These behaviors align with emotional attachment."
Magnolia frowned. "This is… highly irregular."
"So is everything about us," Sarah said calmly.
She leaned closer to Francesco.
"You don't need a speech. You don't need a plan. You just need to be you."
Piper pointed at him. "And ask her. Like a man. Straight up."
Francesco swallowed. "Just… ask?"
"Yes," Sarah said. "Ask if she wants to be your girlfriend."
Curie gasped softly. "Girlfriend."
Magnolia stared at Sarah. "You are encouraging this?"
Sarah smiled. "Absolutely."
Magnolia looked back at Francesco. "You realize the implications from political, strategic—"
"I know," he said quietly. "I've thought about that."
Piper softened. "And yet you're still here asking."
He nodded.
Magnolia studied him for a long moment, then sighed.
"…Then perhaps," she said carefully, "the emotional risk is acceptable."
Curie beamed. "I support this."
Sarah smirked. "Look at that. Even Magnolia's on board."
Piper laughed. "You should've seen his face when she kissed him."
Francesco groaned. "Please don't—"
"Oh, I'm going to," Piper said immediately, turning to Curie and Magnolia. "His brain completely shut down. Like, windows error noise."
Sarah chuckled. "He just stared."
Magnolia raised an eyebrow. "Did he say anything?"
"Nope," Piper said. "Not a word."
Curie clasped her hands again. "This is delightful."
They continued gossiping openly, shamelessly, while Francesco sat there, face warm, listening to his own undoing.
"…And then he asks why she cares," Piper added.
Magnolia winced. "Oh no."
Sarah laughed. "I told you he said something stupid."
Francesco covered his face. "I was tired."
Piper grinned. "Sure you were."
The laughter faded eventually, settling into something quieter, warmer.
Sarah leaned back again, expression serious now. "You're going to be fine," she said. "Just… don't wait too long."
Francesco nodded slowly.
He felt strangely lighter.
Not because he had answers. but because he wasn't alone in the question anymore.
As the meal wound down and they dispersed, Francesco lingered for a moment longer, watching them go.
Then he stood.
Decision settling in his chest like a steady, solid thing.
Night came more distinctly than afternoon ever did.
Underground, darkness was mostly conceptual that measured in dimmed lights, reduced traffic, the subtle lowering of voices as shifts changed and exhaustion crept in. But tonight, Francesco felt it in his bones. The Headquarters had settled into a slower rhythm, the kind that left space for thoughts to grow louder.
That was dangerous.
He stood in his office long after most had cleared out, jacket draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, hands resting on the edge of the desk as he stared at nothing in particular.
Decision had already settled in him. That part was done.
What remained was the doing.
He checked the time on his Pip-Boy, thumb hovering for a moment longer than necessary. He didn't need to rush. He knew that. Sarah had told him not to wait too long, not never wait. And yet something inside him felt restless, like if he stayed still much longer, doubt might creep back in and poison the resolve he'd finally found.
He exhaled, grabbed his jacket, and headed out.
The walk to Nora's house was quieter than he expected.
Sanctuary at night had a different kind of life to it which with soft lanterns glowing from windows, the occasional hum of a generator, footsteps crunching faintly over old pavement. It wasn't peaceful, exactly. Not in a world like this. But it was… lived-in. Claimed.
As he approached her house, he slowed without quite realizing it.
This wasn't a battlefield. This wasn't a command center.
This was her home.
The place where she allowed herself to be something other than Director, other than strategist, other than the woman carrying the weight of the Institute on her shoulders.
He paused near the edge of the yard.
That's when he heard it.
Laughter.
Small. Bright. Unmistakably a child's.
Francesco froze.
Then came the whirring, clipped tones of Codsworth's voice, exaggerated and theatrical in a way he rarely allowed himself around anyone but Shaun.
"Oh dear, Master Shaun! If you insist on hiding there, I shall have no choice but to deploy my most devastating search technique!"
A giggle erupted from somewhere near the living room window.
"Noooo, Codsworth! You can't see me!"
"I most certainly can!" Codsworth replied indignantly. "You are hiding behind a chair that is entirely inadequate for concealment!"
Francesco felt something tighten in his chest.
Not painfully.
Warmly.
He stepped closer, the sound of their play growing clearer as he reached the porch. The lights were on inside, casting a gentle glow through the windows. Shadows moved that small and energetic, accompanied by Codsworth's floating silhouette.
He lifted his hand and knocked.
The sound echoed softly through the house.
Inside, the laughter stopped abruptly.
There was a pause.
Then the familiar hum of Codsworth's thrusters approached, and the door swung open.
"Oh!" Codsworth exclaimed, optics brightening immediately. "Mr. Sico! What a delightful surprise."
Francesco smiled despite the nerves twisting in his stomach. "Evening, Codsworth."
Codsworth hovered back slightly, giving him room. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit this fine evening, sir?"
He hesitated, then decided honesty started now or not at all.
"I was hoping Nora might be back," he said. "I wanted to talk to her."
Codsworth's expression was shifted subtly. "Ah. I'm afraid the Missus has not yet returned."
Francesco nodded, trying to hide the disappointment that flickered through him. "Do you know when she might be?"
"She indicated she may return within the hour," Codsworth replied. "Though with her line of work, timing can be… flexible."
"That's fair," Francesco said quietly.
He stepped back half a pace. "I can come back later."
"Oh nonsense," Codsworth said immediately, drifting aside. "You are more than welcome to wait inside, sir. It would be my pleasure."
Francesco blinked. "Are you sure?"
"Quite," Codsworth replied warmly. "The house has been dreadfully quiet without proper adult conversation, and I daresay Shaun would enjoy the company."
As if summoned by his name, Shaun popped into view from behind the couch, eyes lighting up the moment he saw Francesco.
"Sico!" he exclaimed, running forward without hesitation. "You're here!"
Francesco barely had time to brace before the child wrapped his arms around his waist in an enthusiastic hug.
He laughed softly, instinctively resting a hand on Shaun's shoulder. "Hey there, buddy."
"Are you better?" Shaun asked immediately, pulling back just enough to look up at him, concern etched plainly across his face. "Mom said you were sick."
"I'm better," Francesco assured him. "Much better."
Shaun studied him for a second longer, clearly assessing, then nodded decisively. "Good."
Codsworth hummed approvingly. "I believe that settles it. You are officially declared 'well enough' by Master Shaun."
"High praise," Francesco said, echoing his words from earlier that day.
Shaun tugged at his hand. "Do you want to play?"
The question was so earnest, so hopeful, that any thought of refusing vanished instantly.
"What are we playing?" Francesco asked.
Shaun grinned. "Hide and seek. Codsworth keeps cheating."
"I do not cheat!" Codsworth protested. "I merely possess superior sensory capabilities!"
"That's cheating," Shaun insisted.
Francesco chuckled. "Sounds like you need a neutral referee."
"Yes!" Shaun said immediately. "You!"
Codsworth sighed dramatically. "Very well. I shall comport myself with utmost fairness."
They moved into the living room, the space warm and lived-in. Toys were scattered across the floor that not messily, but comfortably. Evidence of a life being built carefully, intentionally, piece by piece.
Francesco lowered himself to sit on the edge of the couch as Shaun darted off to hide again, giggling all the way. Codsworth turned his optics toward Francesco, voice lowering slightly.
"You are good for him," Codsworth said quietly.
Francesco blinked, caught off guard. "I… thank you."
"He worries," Codsworth continued. "Both of them do."
Francesco swallowed. "I know."
Hide and seek commenced, complete with Codsworth loudly announcing his counting while Shaun hid with all the subtlety of a child who wanted desperately to be found. Francesco played along, calling out exaggerated guesses, making Shaun laugh so hard he gave himself away.
They played until Shaun's laughter softened into yawns, until his steps slowed and his eyes drooped.
Eventually, Shaun climbed onto the couch beside Francesco, leaning against him without hesitation.
"I'm tired," he murmured.
"That happens," Francesco said gently.
Codsworth floated closer. "Perhaps it is time for bed, Master Shaun."
Shaun nodded sleepily. "Okay."
He looked up at Francesco. "Will you be here when Mom gets back?"
Francesco's chest tightened.
"If that's okay," he said carefully.
Shaun smiled. "Good."
Codsworth guided Shaun toward the hallway, pausing briefly before following him.
"She will be pleased you waited," he said softly.
Left alone, Francesco stood slowly, moving toward the window. Outside, the night stretched quiet and uncertain, the world beyond Sanctuary still fractured and dangerous.
Inside, warmth lingered.
Minutes passed.
Then footsteps approached.
The faint, familiar crackle of Institute teleportation filled the air behind him.
He turned.
Nora stood just inside the doorway, the last traces of blue light fading around her. She looked tired with shoulders slightly slumped, hair pulled back more loosely than usual but her eyes sharpened the moment they landed on him.
"Sico?" she said, surprise evident. "What are you—"
He didn't let himself overthink it.
"I wanted to see you," he said simply.
She stared at him for a long moment, then glanced toward the hallway where Shaun had disappeared. Her expression softened.
"He's asleep," Codsworth's voice drifted in helpfully from down the hall.
Nora exhaled, relief flickering across her features. Then she looked back at Francesco.
"You waited," she said quietly.
"Yes."
She stepped closer, arms folding loosely that not defensive, just uncertain.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No," he said. "Something important."
Her gaze searched his face, the same way it always did when she was trying to read more than words.
"…Alright," she said. "Talk to me."
He took a breath.
Just one.
"Nora," he began, voice steady despite the hammering of his heart. "I'm not good at this."
She huffed faintly. "You noticed."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "But I meant what I said earlier. About honesty. About not wasting time."
Her expression shifted with attentive now, fully present.
"I like you," he said. "I think I have for longer than I realized. And yesterday…" He hesitated, then continued. "Yesterday made it impossible to ignore."
Silence stretched between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Charged.
"I don't want to pretend this is simpler than it is," he added. "And I don't want to pressure you. But I needed you to know how I feel."
She stared at him, eyes unreadable.
Then she laughed softly.
"You came all this way," she said, "to tell me that?"
"Yes."
She stepped closer.
"So you're asking," she said slowly, "what, exactly?"
He met her gaze.
"I'm asking if you want to be my girlfriend."
The words hung in the air, fragile and brave all at once.
Nora closed her eyes briefly.
Then opened them, looking at him with that same intensity that had always undone him.
"Yes," she said.
Just one word.
Enough.
Relief crashed through him, sharp and dizzying.
She stepped into his space, resting her forehead lightly against his chest.
"You should've asked sooner," she murmured.
He smiled, wrapping his arms around her carefully, like he was afraid she might disappear.
"I know," he said softly. "I won't make that mistake again."
She tilted her head up, eyes warm now, unguarded.
"Good," she said.
This time, when she kissed him, it wasn't on the cheek but on his lips. And when the night settled around them again, it felt for the first time in a long while like something worth fighting for.
______________________________________________
• 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:-