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The night stretched wide and watchful. And for the first time in a long time, it listened back.
Dawn arrived over Sanctuary with a muted gold light, the kind that didn't announce itself so much as seep into everything. The lanterns were extinguished one by one. Watch rotations shifted with smooth efficiency. The settlement stretched, woke, moved forward.
The radio interview was already becoming yesterday's news.
Not forgotten, but absorbed. Folded into conversation. Turned over, debated, quoted, misquoted, argued about, believed in, doubted.
Which was exactly how it was supposed to work.
Inside Freemasons HQ, Sico stood at the sink in the small adjoining washroom, splashing cold water onto his face. He stared at his reflection for a second longer than necessary.
No armor.
No insignia beyond the subtle Republic seal on his jacket.
Just a man who had chosen to speak.
He dried his hands, squared his shoulders, and stepped back into his office.
Preston Garvey was already there.
He stood near the window, hat in hand, posture straight but weighed down by something heavier than fatigue. He'd been waiting that not long enough to be impatient, but long enough to think.
Sico closed the door behind him.
"Morning," Sico said.
"Morning," Preston replied.
They didn't sit right away.
That alone said enough.
Sico gestured toward the table instead of the desk. "Report."
Preston nodded, serious now, all traces of casual familiarity gone. He pulled a folded set of papers from his coat, but didn't open them yet.
"This came in overnight," he said. "Southern patrols. Border regions near the old irradiated zones."
Sico leaned back against the table, arms crossed loosely. "Contacts?"
"Not hostile," Preston said. "Not directly."
That was worse.
"Go on," Sico said.
Preston finally unfolded the report. Maps. Handwritten notes. Patrol timestamps.
"There've been gatherings," he said. "At first, just a handful of people. Locals mostly. Scavvers, drifters, some settlers passing through."
"How long?" Sico asked.
"About three weeks," Preston replied. "Slow growth. Quiet."
Sico's eyes narrowed slightly. "And now?"
"Now they're building patterns," Preston said. "Meeting regularly. Night and day. Chanting. Symbols."
Sico exhaled through his nose. "A cult."
Preston nodded. "Looks that way."
Silence filled the office.
Not alarm.
Assessment.
"What do they worship?" Sico asked.
Preston hesitated just a fraction of a second.
"…Atom," he said. "Radiation. Purification through exposure."
Sico didn't move.
Didn't blink.
"You mean the Children of Atom," he said.
"Yes," Preston confirmed. "Or a sect of them. Hard to tell if they're directly connected to known groups or something splintered."
Sico pushed off the table and walked slowly to his desk. He didn't sit. He rested his hands on the surface instead.
"And they're inside Freemasons territory," he said.
"Yes."
"How many?" Sico asked.
"Initial estimates were under fourty," Preston said. "Now closer to eighty. Maybe more."
Sico nodded once. Numbers mattered, but not as much as momentum.
"And recruitment?" he asked.
Preston's jaw tightened.
"That's the problem," he said. "They've managed to recruit some of our people."
Sico looked up sharply. "Civilians?"
"And soldiers," Preston added.
The word landed hard.
"How many?" Sico asked quietly.
"Confirmed?" Preston said. "Seven civilians. Three guards. One patrolman."
Sico straightened slowly.
"They defected?" he asked.
"No," Preston said. "Not openly. They're still listed. Still showing up. But their behavior's changed."
"How?" Sico asked.
"Obsessive," Preston said. "Talking about cleansing. About the glow being a blessing. One of them walked into a low-rad zone without protection and refused treatment afterward."
Sico closed his eyes for a moment.
Not in frustration.
In calculation.
"When was the last time we screened ideological drift?" he asked.
"Two months ago," Preston said.
Sico nodded. "And we prioritized external threats."
"Yes."
A mistake.
Not a catastrophic one. Not yet.
But a real one.
"Any violence?" Sico asked.
"None," Preston said. "Not yet. But the language is escalating."
"Toward what?" Sico asked.
"Martyrdom," Preston replied. "Purification. Sacrifice."
Sico opened the folder on his desk and pulled out a blank sheet.
"Location?" he asked.
Preston stepped closer, pointing to the southern map. "Here. And here. Mostly near irradiated ruins. Old reactors. Crater zones."
Sico marked them carefully.
"They're not just hiding," he said. "They're choosing symbolic ground."
"Yes," Preston said. "Which means they're not just drifting. They're organizing."
Sico looked up. "And you didn't move on them."
Preston shook his head. "No. We observed. Tracked. Logged. No weapons displays. No direct incitement to violence."
"Good," Sico said. "You did the right thing."
Preston didn't look convinced. "Sir… with respect, cults don't stay passive."
"No," Sico agreed. "They metastasize."
He leaned back in his chair at last.
"And the fact they're recruiting from within," Preston continued, "that worries me more than the numbers."
"It should," Sico said.
He tapped the paper lightly.
"They didn't recruit because of Atom," he said. "They recruited because of uncertainty."
Preston frowned slightly. "You think this is a reaction to the Republic?"
"I think it's a reaction to order," Sico replied. "Some people find meaning in chaos. When structure replaces it, they look for transcendence elsewhere."
"Radiation as salvation," Preston muttered.
"Simple answers for complex fears," Sico said.
Silence again.
This one heavier.
"What's your recommendation?" Sico asked.
Preston took a breath. "Containment first. Increased surveillance. Quiet monitoring of anyone attending gatherings. Psychological assessment of affected personnel."
"And arrests?" Sico asked.
"Not yet," Preston said firmly. "That turns them into martyrs."
Sico nodded. "Agreed."
Preston hesitated. "But we should prepare contingencies."
"We will," Sico said.
He stood.
"This doesn't get announced," he continued. "No public mention. No radio. No paper."
Preston nodded. "Piper won't like that."
"This isn't about optics," Sico said. "It's about preventing a narrative before it hardens."
He walked to the window, gazing south.
"Atom thrives on attention," he said. "We starve it."
"And the defectors?" Preston asked quietly.
Sico turned back.
"They're not traitors," he said. "Not yet. They're lost."
"And if they cross that line?" Preston asked.
Sico's voice didn't change.
"Then we act."
Preston nodded once.
"There's more," he said.
Sico looked at him. "There usually is."
"One of the converted soldiers," Preston said. "He was on night patrol last week."
Sico felt something cold settle in his chest.
"What happened?" he asked.
"He rerouted his patrol path," Preston said. "Claimed it was tactical. But the new route passed directly through one of the gathering sites."
"And?" Sico pressed.
"And he stood there," Preston said. "For forty minutes. No radio traffic. Just… stood."
Sico closed his eyes briefly.
"And when confronted?" he asked.
"He said he was listening," Preston replied. "To the glow."
Silence followed.
Not just in the room.
In the Republic.
Sico opened his eyes.
"This is how it starts," he said softly. "Not with bombs. Not with guns. With belief."
Preston nodded. "What do you want to do?"
Sico walked back to his desk and activated the terminal.
"We respond with structure," he said. "And compassion. And readiness."
He began issuing orders.
"Double internal observation teams. Quietly. No uniforms. No confrontations."
"Medical evaluations for all affected personnel. Frame it as routine."
"Assign Sarah to review patrol doctrine in the south. Rotate units before loyalty ossifies."
"Have Mel's team assess radiation exposure myths. Prepare counter-education materials. Not propaganda. Facts."
Preston listened, nodding.
"And the cult sites?" Preston asked.
"Do not disrupt," Sico said. "Yet."
He paused.
"But map every exit. Every supply route. Every speaker."
Preston raised an eyebrow. "Speakers?"
"Every group has a voice," Sico said. "Find it."
Preston folded his arms. "And if Piper asks?"
Sico looked at him steadily.
"She'll ask," he said. "And I'll answer, when the time is right."
Preston nodded slowly.
"This Republic doesn't just fight raiders anymore," he said.
"No," Sico agreed. "Now it fights ideas."
Preston turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"Sir," he said. "For what it's worth… the interview helped. People trust you more this morning."
Sico didn't smile.
"Good," he said. "Because trust is exactly what this will test."
Preston left.
The door closed.
Sico stood alone again.
Outside, Sanctuary moved on, unaware of the quiet fracture forming to the south. Children laughed. Traders argued. Guards adjusted straps and checked lenses.
Order held.
For now.
Sico returned to the window and looked south once more.
Radiation zones shimmered faintly in the distance, invisible to the naked eye but heavy with history and myth.
The next day did not begin with ceremony.
It began with urgency.
Sico was halfway through a briefing with Mel's science team that discuss radiation exposure charts projected across the wall, data being debated with calm, academic precision when the radio at his belt crackled sharply, cutting straight through the room.
Not a request channel.
Not a scheduled report.
An override.
"Sico."
Preston's voice.
Tight. Controlled. Too controlled.
Sico raised a hand. The room went silent instantly.
"Go," Sico said.
There was a pause on the other end. Just long enough to confirm what Sico already felt settle into his spine.
"We've got a situation," Preston said. "At the prison. One of the soldiers."
Sico didn't ask which one.
"Child of Atom," Preston continued. "He snapped during patrol. Shot three of his own team."
The words hit like a hammer.
Sico straightened slowly.
"Casualties?" he asked.
"One critical. Two wounded," Preston replied. "They're alive. Med team's working on them now."
Sico exhaled once. Controlled. Measured.
"And the shooter?" he asked.
"In custody," Preston said. "Barely. He didn't resist. Just… kept talking."
Sarah's voice cut in briefly over the channel, clipped and cold. "You need to get here. Now."
Sico didn't hesitate.
"I'm on my way," he said.
The channel went dead.
Sico turned to Mel.
"Continue without me," he said. "Compile everything. I'll review tonight."
Mel's expression had already darkened. "This is the cult, isn't it?"
"Yes," Sico said simply.
Mel nodded once. "Then the data won't wait."
"It never does," Sico replied.
He grabbed his jacket, secured the Republic seal at his chest, and left his office at a pace that made guards straighten as he passed.
Word traveled faster than boots.
By the time Sico exited Freemasons HQ, Sanctuary already knew something was wrong.
Not details.
Not yet.
Just that something had cracked.
People whispered in doorways. Traders paused mid-argument. Guards exchanged brief, coded looks as Sico moved through the settlement with long, deliberate strides.
"Did you hear—"
"—one of ours—"
"—Atom, they say—"
"—shot his own—"
Rumors bloomed like mold in damp places.
Sico heard them.
He didn't slow.
A transport vehicle was already waiting. He waved it off.
"I'll walk," he said.
The prison wasn't far.
That, too, was intentional.
The Freemasons Republic did not hide its justice behind walls and distance. The holding facility sat at the edge of Sanctuary, reinforced, guarded, visible. A reminder that not of fear, but of consequence.
As Sico approached, the atmosphere thickened.
Soldiers stood at heightened alert. Rifles held ready but lowered. No panic. No chaos.
Discipline.
Still, the tension was unmistakable.
When Sico reached the outer perimeter, the guards snapped to attention.
"Sir."
"At ease," Sico said. "Status?"
"Prison secured," one replied. "One detainee. No further incidents."
Sico nodded and stepped inside.
The air changed immediately.
The prison smelled like antiseptic and cold metal, but under it all was something else.
Ozone.
Radiation residue.
Belief.
Preston stood near the central corridor, hat on this time, posture rigid. Sarah was beside him, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unforgiving. Around them, half a dozen soldiers formed a loose cordon around a reinforced cell door.
The moment Preston saw Sico, relief flickered across his face that quickly buried.
"Sir," Preston said.
"What happened?" Sico asked.
Preston gestured toward the cell. "Patrol was rotating through the southern corridor. Same unit we flagged yesterday. No warning. He stopped, turned, and opened fire."
Sarah cut in. "Clean shots. Center mass. He knew exactly what he was doing."
Sico's jaw tightened.
"And after?" he asked.
"He dropped the weapon," Preston said. "Sat down. Started praying."
"Praying?" Sico echoed.
Sarah's voice hardened. "Chanting. Talking about the glow calling him. Said his brothers needed to be 'freed from fear.'"
Sico closed his eyes briefly.
Not again.
Not belief weaponized this fast.
"Names," Sico said.
Preston hesitated, then said it anyway. "Corporal Hayes."
Sico knew the file instantly.
Solid record. Dependable. Quiet.
No disciplinary marks.
"He was on the watch list," Preston added quietly. "Low priority."
Sico nodded once.
"And the wounded?" he asked.
"Alive," Sarah said. "Barely. One's still in surgery."
Sico turned toward the cell.
"Has he said anything else?" he asked.
Sarah shook her head. "Nothing coherent. Just… doctrine. Repeating phrases. Like he memorized them."
Sico took a step forward.
Preston shifted instinctively. "Sir—"
"I know," Sico said. "I won't go alone."
He turned to Sarah. "With me."
She didn't argue.
The two of them approached the cell door together.
The glass was reinforced, slightly clouded. Inside, Corporal Hayes sat cross-legged on the floor, hands resting open on his knees. His armor had been removed. His uniform was stained with blood that not all of it his own.
He was smiling.
Not wide.
Not manic.
Peaceful.
It was the most unsettling thing in the room.
Sico stopped a few feet from the glass.
Hayes didn't look up at first.
He was murmuring under his breath.
"…division is mercy… division is truth…"
Sarah's hand flexed at her side.
Sico spoke calmly.
"Corporal Hayes."
The murmuring stopped.
Slowly, Hayes lifted his head.
His eyes were unfocused, glassy but when they landed on Sico, something sharpened.
Recognition.
"You came," Hayes said softly.
"Yes," Sico replied. "I did."
Hayes smiled wider. "The light said you would."
Sarah took a step forward. "Watch your mouth."
Sico raised a hand.
"Let him speak," he said.
Hayes tilted his head. "She's angry," he said. "That's okay. Anger burns away in the glow."
Sarah's jaw clenched.
"Why did you shoot your team?" Sico asked.
Hayes didn't hesitate.
"They were afraid," he said simply. "Fear poisons the soul. Atom teaches us to let go."
"By killing them?" Sarah snapped.
Hayes frowned slightly. "They're not dead. I was careful."
Sico felt something cold pass through him.
"You planned it," he said.
"Yes," Hayes replied. "The light doesn't reward hesitation."
Sico leaned closer to the glass.
"Did anyone tell you to do this?" he asked.
Hayes shook his head. "No. Atom doesn't command. He reveals."
"Who taught you?" Sico asked.
Hayes' smile returned. "A man who listens."
Sarah stiffened. "Name."
Hayes looked at her, pitying. "Names don't matter."
"They do here," Sico said.
Hayes' gaze slid back to Sico. "You build walls," he said. "Schedules. Lights in the dark. You think order saves people."
"It does," Sico said.
Hayes laughed softly. "Order delays the inevitable. The glow is honest."
Sico studied him carefully.
This wasn't rage.
This wasn't panic.
This was conviction.
"How many others believe like you?" Sico asked.
Hayes hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Enough.
"Enough," he said.
Sico straightened.
"Take him to isolation," he said calmly. "Full medical and psychological evaluation. No radiation exposure. No outside contact."
Hayes' smile faltered for the first time.
"You can't isolate the truth," he said.
"We're not isolating truth," Sico replied. "We're isolating danger."
Hayes' expression hardened.
"You're afraid," he said. "That's why Atom will win."
Sico met his gaze without flinching.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm responsible."
He turned away.
"Do it," he said.
The guards moved immediately.
As Hayes was escorted away, his voice echoed down the corridor.
"The glow sees all—"
The door slammed shut.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Ugly.
Sarah exhaled sharply. "That was a mistake."
"Talking to him?" Sico asked.
"No," she said. "Letting it get this far."
Sico nodded. "Agreed."
Preston stepped closer. "The rumors are already out there," he said. "People are saying a Freemason soldier turned on his own."
"They're right," Sico said.
"That'll shake confidence," Preston said.
"Then we steady it," Sico replied.
Sarah crossed her arms. "How?"
Sico looked around the prison. At the guards. At the walls meant to hold people who had crossed lines.
"We do what cults hate most," he said. "We make this boring."
Preston frowned. "Sir?"
"No secrecy theatrics," Sico said. "No dramatic trials. No public spectacle. We treat this as what it is, a breach of discipline and mental health."
Sarah considered that. "You're stripping it of meaning."
"Exactly," Sico said. "Belief feeds on narrative."
Preston nodded slowly. "And the rest of the cult?"
Sico's expression darkened.
"They just escalated," he said. "Which means we do too."
He turned back toward the exit.
"Call an emergency council," he said. "Sarah, I want rapid response units on standby in the south. Non-lethal priority."
"Preston," he continued, "increase internal screenings immediately. Anyone even adjacent to this group gets rotated off duty."
"And Piper?" Preston asked.
Sico paused.
"She'll hear about this," he said. "From the people, if not from us."
"And when she comes?" Preston asked.
Sico's voice was steady.
"Then we tell the truth," he said. "All of it."
They exited the prison together.
Outside, Sanctuary watched.
People stopped pretending not to stare as Sico emerged. Whispers followed him like shadows.
He didn't hide from them.
He didn't rush.
He walked back toward Freemasons HQ at a measured pace, meeting eyes as he passed.
Fear recognized authority.
Authority acknowledged fear.
By the time he reached the central square, the story had already grown teeth.
"A soldier snapped—"
"—Atom worship—"
"—inside our walls—"
Sico stopped.
People froze.
He turned slowly, addressing no one in particular and everyone.
"There was an incident," he said, voice carrying without effort. "It's being handled. The wounded are receiving care. The threat is contained."
Murmurs rippled.
"This doesn't change who we are," he continued. "It reminds us why we exist."
Silence held.
Then someone nodded.
Then another.
The crowd dispersed that not satisfied, but steadied.
Sico resumed walking toward Freemasons HQ.
The evening settled over Sanctuary slowly, like a held breath finally released.
Lanterns flickered on along the walkways. Generators hummed into their nighttime rhythm. The settlement didn't relax that not fully but it steadied, the way people do after a shock once they realize the ground beneath them hasn't completely given way.
The incident was no longer a rumor.
It was a fact.
And facts had weight.
Inside Freemasons HQ, the largest meeting room had been cleared of its usual clutter. Maps covered the walls with southern territories marked in red grease pencil, radiation zones shaded with careful precision, patrol routes traced and retraced until they overlapped like scars. A long table dominated the center, scarred by years of use, lit from above by harsh white bulbs that left no corner in shadow.
This was not a ceremonial space.
This was where decisions were made that didn't fit into speeches.
Sico stood at the head of the table when the last of them arrived.
Preston and Sarah were already there, seated opposite one another, both rigid, both quiet. Robert leaned against the wall near the maps, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in perpetual calculation. Albert sat near him, glasses perched low on his nose as he reviewed a handwritten list, lips moving silently as he reread the same lines again and again.
Mel arrived next, coat still dusted with chalky residue from the lab, followed closely by Curie, who moved with purposeful grace, her expression thoughtful rather than alarmed. Magnolia slipped in with her usual quiet confidence, eyes sharp, reading the room before she even took a seat. MacCready followed, rifle slung across his back out of habit more than necessity, chewing on something he definitely shouldn't have been chewing during a high-level meeting.
Nick Valentine entered without announcement, hat tipped back, synth eyes glowing faintly in the dimmer light. Hancock arrived last, boots thudding casually against the floor, coat open, grin present but restrained as he'd read the tone correctly.
Jenny came in just behind him.
She didn't speak. She didn't smile.
She simply took her seat beside Magnolia, fingers interlaced, posture calm in a way that suggested she'd already made up her mind.
The door closed.
No guards remained inside.
Sico waited until the sound of the latch settled.
Then he spoke.
"Today, a Freemason soldier opened fire on his own patrol," he said, voice level, carrying easily through the room. "Three wounded. One critical. The shooter is in custody. He is alive."
No one interrupted.
"He was influenced by the Children of Atom," Sico continued. "Not through force. Through belief."
Sarah's jaw tightened.
"This is the first internal violent incident tied to ideological radicalization," Sico said. "It will not be the last unless we decide what we are."
He looked around the table, meeting eyes one by one.
"This meeting is not about blame," he said. "It's about response."
Silence followed.
Heavy, but focused.
Preston spoke first.
"We've been tracking the group for weeks," he said. "Non-hostile posture. No weapons displays. That changed today."
Sarah nodded sharply. "This wasn't spontaneous. Hayes didn't panic. He executed."
MacCready snorted quietly. "Yeah, well, cults don't exactly advertise when they're about to go off the rails."
Nick tilted his head slightly. "No," he said. "But they do follow patterns."
Sico gestured toward the southern map. "We know where they gather. We know they're recruiting. We now know they're willing to act."
Albert cleared his throat. "We also know their numbers are still relatively small."
"For now," Robert said flatly.
Hancock leaned back in his chair, boots hooking under the rung. "So what's the question?" he asked. "We talkin' surgical strike, or a broom?"
Curie looked at him sharply. "Lives are not debris to be swept aside."
Hancock raised his hands slightly. "Hey, didn't say they were. Just saying, cults like this don't usually go away if you ask nicely."
Jenny spoke then, voice calm but firm. "They don't need to be destroyed."
The room shifted.
Eyes turned toward her.
"They need to be arrested," Jenny continued. "Contained. Processed under Republic law."
Sarah's head snapped toward her. "That didn't stop Hayes."
"No," Jenny said. "But killing everyone who believes something dangerous will create more Hayeses."
Magnolia nodded subtly. "Fear spreads faster than faith," she said. "And blood turns ideas into legends."
Preston leaned forward. "With respect, they already crossed the line. One of ours almost died today."
"And that's why we act within the law," Jenny replied. "To show the difference."
Robert scoffed quietly. "Law doesn't mean much to people who worship radiation."
Curie folded her hands on the table. "Belief systems, even harmful ones, often stem from fear and misinformation. Addressing the cause—"
Sarah cut in sharply. "We don't have time for therapy sessions while they load guns."
"They didn't load guns," Magnolia said calmly. "He used his issued weapon."
That landed uncomfortably.
MacCready shifted. "Okay, so let me get this straight," he said. "Option one: we round 'em up, hope they don't resist, and pray we didn't miss any sleepers. Option two: we hit 'em hard, make an example, and hope nobody else gets inspired."
Nick rubbed his chin. "There's a third option."
All eyes turned to him.
"Infiltration," Nick said. "Find the speaker. The one Hayes mentioned. The man who listens."
Sico's gaze sharpened. "You think they have a leader."
"They always do," Nick replied. "Even if they pretend they don't."
Sarah nodded slowly. "We suspected as much."
"And if we remove that voice?" Nick continued. "Disrupt the narrative without turning them into martyrs?"
Robert crossed his arms. "That's still soft."
"It's precise," Nick countered.
Hancock chuckled darkly. "Never thought I'd hear a synth preach subtlety."
Nick didn't react. "I've seen what happens when you crush movements instead of understanding them. They come back louder."
Sico raised a hand, quieting the room.
"We're not voting yet," he said. "We're clarifying positions."
He turned to Preston. "Your recommendation."
Preston straightened. "We neutralize the threat. Permanently. The cult has shown it's willing to turn inward. That's unacceptable."
Sarah nodded immediately. "Agreed. Arrests won't be enough. They'll resist. They'll martyr themselves. We need to dismantle them completely."
Jenny's eyes hardened. "That's a massacre."
Sarah's voice was cold. "It's prevention."
Magnolia leaned forward slightly. "It's escalation."
"And letting them live isn't?" Sarah shot back.
Curie spoke carefully. "Violence will validate their beliefs. Radiation as purification through death then destroying them reinforces that."
Robert frowned. "So what, we invite them to a debate?"
"No," Curie said. "We isolate the leadership, dismantle the network, and rehabilitate those who can be reached."
MacCready laughed humorlessly. "You ever try to rehabilitate a zealot?"
"Yes," Curie replied softly. "And sometimes, it works."
Albert finally spoke, voice measured. "The Republic's strength has always been proportional response. Overreach risks internal fracture."
Sico listened.
Didn't interrupt.
Let the arguments breathe, clash, reveal themselves.
Preston and Sarah stood on one side with certainty, force, finality.
Jenny and Magnolia on the other with law, restraint, long-term stability.
The rest hovered in between, orbiting pragmatism, experience, and fear of consequences.
Finally, Sico spoke.
"The cult wants meaning," he said. "Through radiation. Through sacrifice. Through defiance of order."
He stepped away from the head of the table, pacing slowly behind the chairs.
He stepped away from the head of the table, pacing slowly behind the chairs, boots soft against the concrete floor.
"The cult wants meaning," Sico said again, more quietly this time. "Through radiation. Through sacrifice. Through defiance of order."
He stopped behind Preston, then moved past Sarah, his presence felt even when his voice dropped.
"They don't see themselves as criminals," he continued. "They see themselves as chosen. Every arrest becomes proof. Every prison cell becomes a pulpit."
Jenny's fingers tightened together.
Magnolia watched Sico closely now, her expression no longer neutral.
Sico reached the wall where one of the maps was pinned. He placed his palm flat against the paper, right over one of the irradiated zones marked in red.
"We have records," he said. "Not just ours. Brotherhood archives. Institute. Minutemen logs. Every major encounter with the Children of Atom ends the same way."
He turned back to face them.
"They do not reform," Sico said. "They do not disband. They fracture, they metastasize, they spread."
Curie opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"They preach purification through death," Sico went on. "And prison doesn't silence that. It amplifies it. Bars don't stop belief. They concentrate it."
The room felt tighter now.
He looked directly at Jenny.
"You're right," he said evenly. "Killing belief creates martyrs."
Jenny swallowed. "Then why—"
"But letting it live creates missionaries," Sico cut in. "And today, that belief picked up a rifle."
Silence fell like a held breath.
Sarah didn't look surprised.
Preston didn't look relieved.
They both looked resigned.
Sico straightened fully.
"I will not allow another Hayes," he said. "I will not wait for another patrol to bleed before we act."
Jenny stood abruptly. "So that's it?" she demanded. "We abandon everything we built because they scared us?"
Sico met her gaze without flinching.
"No," he said. "We defend it."
Magnolia rose more slowly, her voice calm but edged. "Defend… by extermination?"
"By elimination of an existential threat," Sico replied. "Call it what it is."
Curie shook her head. "This will stain the Republic."
"It already is," Sico said quietly. "The stain just hasn't spread yet."
MacCready leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You sure about this, boss?" he asked. "Once you pull this trigger, there's no walking it back."
Sico nodded once. "I know."
Nick watched him for a long moment, synth eyes unreadable.
"You're choosing certainty over hope," Nick said.
"I'm choosing survival over illusion," Sico replied.
Albert removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This will fracture support. Internally. Externally."
"Leadership isn't consensus," Sico said. "It's responsibility."
Preston finally spoke again.
"If we do this," he said, voice steady, "we do it clean. No chaos. No survivors who can twist the story."
Jenny stared at him. "You too?"
Preston didn't look at her. "I buried friends who thought mercy was enough."
Sarah leaned forward, hands flat on the table. "This ends tomorrow," she said. "Or it grows."
Magnolia's jaw tightened. "And the innocents?"
"There are no innocents in that camp," Sarah replied coldly. "Only believers at different stages."
Curie looked stricken. "That's not—"
"It's reality," Sarah said.
Sico raised a hand.
"Enough," he said.
The room went silent instantly.
"I've heard every argument," he said. "And I don't dismiss them lightly."
He turned back to the table, placing both hands on its scarred surface.
"But the Children of Atom are not a protest. They are not a political faction. They are a death cult that weaponizes despair."
He looked at Jenny and Magnolia again, his voice softer but unyielding.
"If we capture them," he said, "they preach through bars. They convert guards. They wait. They grow."
He straightened.
"So this is my decision."
The words settled like a final verdict.
"We destroy them."
Jenny sank back into her chair as if the strength had gone out of her.
Magnolia didn't sit. She studied Sico with something like grief.
Curie closed her eyes.
Sico turned to Preston.
"I want one hundred and fifty soldiers," he said. "Veterans. No recruits. No one who hasn't seen combat."
Preston nodded immediately. "I'll have the roster within the hour."
Sico turned to Sarah.
"Five Humvees," he continued. "Eight transport trucks. Three Sentinel tanks. Full ammo loadout. Non-radiological exposure gear."
Sarah's lips curved into something grim. "They'll be ready."
"Munitions?" she asked.
"Standard issue," Sico said. "No incendiaries. We're ending a cult, not burning the land."
He shifted his gaze to Magnolia and Jenny.
"Supplies," he said. "Food. Water. Medical. Enough for a prolonged engagement if it goes wrong."
Jenny's voice was flat. "So we clean up after ourselves?"
"So we don't become raiders," Sico replied.
Magnolia nodded once. "I'll handle logistics."
Jenny hesitated, then nodded as well, though her eyes never left Sico.
He turned to Robert.
"I want you in the field," Sico said. "Command oversight."
Robert smiled thinly. "Was wondering when you'd ask."
"And MacCready," Sico added. "Thirty commandos. Insertion, perimeter control, termination of high-value targets."
MacCready let out a slow breath. "Guess I'm back in the deep end."
"You're good there," Sico said.
Nick spoke quietly. "You're not sending me?"
Sico looked at him. "I need you here. Aftermath. Interrogations. Fallout."
Nick nodded slowly. "There will be fallout."
"There always is," Sico said.
Sico looked around the room one last time.
"We move at first light," he said. "No broadcasts. No warnings. This ends before it spreads."
Jenny finally spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"When this is over," she said, "people will ask who we are."
Sico met her gaze.
"And we'll answer," he said. "With the truth."
The meeting dissolved quietly.
Not in agreement.
In acceptance.
One by one, they filed out of the room.
Magnolia paused at the door, turning back once.
"Power always believes it's necessary," she said softly.
Sico didn't argue.
"I know," he replied.
She left.
The room emptied until only Sico remained.
He stood there for a long moment, listening to the distant hum of Sanctuary at night. To the lives moving, unaware of the decision just made on their behalf.
Tomorrow, blood would be spilled so that tonight could remain peaceful.
He didn't tell himself it was noble.
He told himself it was required.
Sico turned off the lights and walked out into the corridor, already carrying the weight of the dawn.
______________________________________________
• 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:-