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And for the first time in a long while, the Children of Atom weren't shadows in the dark.
The next morning found Sico alone in his office at Freemasons Headquarters.
The room was quiet in the way only command spaces ever were that not peaceful, not empty, just contained. Thick concrete walls muted the outside world. The large desk at the center was scarred with old burns and scratches, marks from a time when furniture had been repurposed more often than replaced. Shelves along the far wall held maps, folders, handwritten notes pinned beside printed reports. History, half of it still unfolding.
Sunlight filtered in through the reinforced windows, pale and sharp, cutting across the desk in clean lines.
Sico stood near the window at first, mug of coffee untouched beside him, eyes scanning the courtyard below. Guards moved through their routines, changing shifts, checking weapons, exchanging quiet nods. Everything looked orderly.
Too orderly.
He turned back to the desk and picked up the report Preston had delivered earlier that morning.
Operation Summary – Children of Atom Settlement Neutralization
Preston's handwriting was precise, disciplined, but there were moments where the formality slipped just enough to reveal the man beneath it. Casualty counts. Tactical decisions. Timelines broken down to the minute. Mentions of resistance pockets. Mentions of civilians evacuated from nearby areas before the strike.
Sico read slowly.
He didn't skim. He never did.
He paused at sections describing the first breach, the moment the Children of Atom realized the Freemasons weren't just watching anymore. He lingered on the prisoner numbers, the notes on morale, the early intelligence gained during transport.
He nodded once at the margin where Preston had written, Threat neutralized, but ideology remains.
That line mattered.
A knock came at the door.
Not loud. Not hesitant.
Sico didn't look up. "Come in."
The door opened, and Sarah stepped inside.
She looked the same as she always did with armor clean but worn, posture straight, expression composed. But there was something tight around her eyes that hadn't been there the night before.
"Sico," she said.
He glanced up then. "What is it?"
She hesitated. Just a fraction of a second. Enough to register.
"You should come outside," she said. "Now."
That got his full attention.
He set the report down carefully. "What's happening?"
Sarah didn't answer immediately. She just turned slightly, gesturing toward the balcony doors.
"You'll hear it," she said. "In a moment."
As if on cue, a distant sound reached them through the reinforced glass.
Not gunfire.
Not alarms.
Voices.
Raised. Overlapping. Growing louder by the second.
Sico stood.
The chair scraped softly against the floor as he moved past it. He crossed the office in long strides and pushed open the balcony doors.
The sound hit him fully then.
Shouting.
Anger.
Fear.
He stepped out onto the balcony and looked down.
The courtyard in front of Freemasons HQ was no longer orderly.
It was crowded.
People filled the space from wall to wall from settlers, traders, scavengers, faces he recognized and faces he didn't. Some held handmade signs scrawled with hurried paint and charcoal. Others raised fists or open palms toward the building.
Guards stood at the perimeter, weapons slung but ready, forming a line that had clearly been reinforced in the last few minutes. Their expressions were tense but controlled.
The crowd was loud.
Not chaotic, but close.
Voices rose in waves, different chants colliding with one another.
"You didn't have the right!"
"They never attacked us!"
"Where's your humanity?"
Sico felt his jaw tighten.
Sarah stepped up beside him, her gaze sweeping the crowd with a tactician's eye. "They started gathering about twenty minutes ago," she said quietly. "At first it was just a few. Word spread."
"What are they saying?" Sico asked, though he could already hear fragments.
Sarah's voice remained calm. "They're protesting the decision to attack and destroy the Children of Atom base."
Sico leaned forward slightly, hands resting on the balcony railing.
Below, a man stood on a crate near the front of the crowd, his voice carrying farther than the others.
"The Children of Atom never did anything to the Freemasons!" the man shouted. "They kept to themselves! They worshiped radiation, yeah, but they didn't attack us!"
A chorus of agreement rose up.
Another voice cut in, sharp and accusatory. "You talk about protecting people! About rebuilding humanity! So where was that humanity when you burned their home to the ground?"
Sico closed his eyes briefly.
There it was.
Sarah continued, low enough that only he could hear. "They're asking where the Freemasons' 'higher humanity' is. Why we chose force instead of dialogue."
A rock clattered harmlessly against the outer wall below the balcony, thrown more in frustration than intent. Guards shifted but held their positions.
Sico straightened.
The sound of the crowd washed over him, messy and human and painfully familiar. He'd heard it before in different places, under different banners. Always the same questions. Always the same fear beneath them.
He exhaled slowly.
"They don't see the reports," he said. "They don't hear the intercepted messages. They don't see the people who disappeared."
"No," Sarah agreed. "They see fire. And prisoners. And a radio broadcast that confirmed it."
Sico nodded once. "Piper did exactly what I asked."
"Yes," Sarah said. "And this is the response."
Below them, the shouting grew louder.
"You're becoming what you claim to fight!"
"Who decides who deserves to live?"
"Is this what the Freemasons are now?"
Sico's grip tightened on the railing.
He could feel the weight of Preston's report still lingering in his mind with the careful language, the measured tone. He could see the prisoners' faces, the scars, the hollow eyes. He could hear Piper's voice echoing through radios across the Commonwealth.
Truth didn't move in straight lines.
It rippled.
"Do we disperse them?" Sarah asked quietly.
Sico shook his head. "Not yet."
She studied him. "They're close to crossing from protest to unrest."
"I know," he said. "But forcing them away will only confirm what they think."
Below, the man on the crate pointed toward the HQ. "Come out and explain yourselves! If you really believe this was right, then say it to our faces!"
The crowd roared approval.
Sico stood there for several long seconds.
Then he turned back toward the office.
"Get Preston," he said. "And Piper. I want them here."
Sarah nodded immediately and stepped away.
As she disappeared inside, Sico remained on the balcony, staring down at the people gathered below.
They weren't enemies.
That was the hardest part.
They were scared. Confused. Angry because anger felt like the only thing that made sense when the world shifted under their feet.
A woman near the front of the crowd looked up and met his eyes.
For a moment, the noise faded.
She wasn't shouting.
She was crying.
Sico swallowed.
By the time Preston arrived, the crowd had grown larger.
Piper came shortly after, notebook already open, eyes flicking between the shouting protesters and the guards lining the courtyard.
"Well," she muttered under her breath, "this escalated."
Preston stood beside Sico now, arms crossed, expression grim. "This was inevitable," he said quietly. "You hit something people thought was untouchable."
"Or misunderstood," Piper added.
Sico didn't respond immediately. He watched the crowd a moment longer, then turned to face them fully.
"Bring me a microphone," he said.
Both Preston and Piper looked at him.
"You're going to address them?" Piper asked.
"Yes," Sico replied.
Preston frowned. "Right now?"
"Yes."
The shouting continued below.
Sarah returned quickly, a portable microphone in hand. She passed it to Sico without comment, then stepped back, positioning herself slightly behind and to his right.
Sico took the microphone.
He stepped forward, closer to the edge of the balcony.
The guards below noticed the movement first. A ripple passed through them, then into the crowd as people began pointing upward.
"He's there!"
"That's him!"
"Listen!"
The shouting didn't stop immediately, but it thinned.
Sico lifted the microphone.
"I hear you," he said.
His voice wasn't amplified yet. Just his own.
Some of the shouting faltered.
Then he turned the microphone on.
The feedback crackled briefly, then steadied.
"I hear you," he repeated, louder now, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "And I'm not going to pretend your questions aren't fair."
That caught them off guard.
The crowd quieted further, murmurs replacing shouts.
"You're right about one thing," Sico continued. "The Children of Atom didn't attack Sanctuary directly. They didn't march on our walls waving banners."
A few nods. A few scoffs.
"But that doesn't mean they weren't dangerous," he said. "And it doesn't mean we acted without reason."
A man near the front shouted, "Then explain it!"
Sico nodded once. "I will."
He rested one hand against the railing, grounding himself.
"The Children of Atom built their faith around radiation. Around suffering. Around the belief that the world should be remade through destruction. That belief didn't stay contained."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"We intercepted communications. We tracked movements. We followed supply routes. People disappeared. Settlements near their territory reported raids, forced conversions, and worse."
Someone shouted back, "Then why didn't you show us that first?"
"Because sometimes," Sico replied evenly, "waiting until everyone agrees means waiting until people die."
The crowd shifted, uneasy.
"We didn't erase them because of what they believed," he continued. "We stopped them because of what they were preparing to do."
Silence spread slowly.
"And we didn't execute them all," he added. "We captured survivors. We're questioning them. Because we don't want this threat to resurface somewhere else, wearing a different face."
A woman's voice rose, trembling. "You burned their home!"
Sico met her gaze. "Yes. We did."
He didn't flinch.
"And I won't pretend that wasn't violent," he said. "Or that it didn't cost lives. But letting it stand would have cost more."
The crowd was quiet now. Not convinced, but listening.
"You ask where our humanity is," Sico said, his voice steady but heavy. "This is it. Making decisions that hurt now to prevent something worse later. Carrying the weight so others don't have to."
He lowered the microphone slightly.
"You don't have to agree with me," he finished. "But don't mistake action for cruelty. And don't confuse restraint with weakness."
Silence hung over the courtyard.
Then, slowly, voices began again with not shouting this time. Talking. Arguing. Processing.
The protest didn't end.
But it didn't explode either.
Silence hung over the courtyard.
It wasn't peace. It wasn't resolution.
It was the fragile pause that came right before something decided what shape it wanted to take.
People talked now instead of shouted. Low voices. Tight clusters forming and reforming. Some nodded as they replayed Sico's words. Others shook their heads, unconvinced but no longer screaming. Guards stayed in place, muscles taut, eyes scanning not just the crowd but the spaces between people.
That was where trouble always lived.
Sico remained on the balcony for a long moment after lowering the microphone. He didn't retreat inside. He didn't posture. He stayed visible, letting the weight of his words either settle or fracture on their own.
Beside him, Preston let out a slow breath. "You bought us time," he said quietly.
"Time isn't the same as trust," Sico replied.
"No," Piper agreed from the other side, pen tapping against her notebook. "But it's the only currency we've got right now."
Below them, the crowd shifted again.
A man pushed forward from the back with hard-eyed, sharp movements, too purposeful for someone just caught up in fear. He climbed onto a broken crate near the center, shoving past others with barely disguised impatience.
"Don't listen to him!" the man shouted suddenly.
The sound cut through the murmurs like a blade.
Heads turned.
"He's lying to you!" the man continued, jabbing a finger upward toward the balcony. "All of it! You really think they care about your safety? About your families?"
A ripple of unease spread.
Sico's jaw tightened that not in anger, but recognition.
There it was.
The spark.
Sarah stiffened slightly behind him. "That's not one of the regular settlers," she murmured. "I don't recognize him."
The man's voice rose, fueled now by the attention. "They burned people alive! They destroyed a community that never raised a weapon against them! And now they hide behind fancy words and 'reports' you'll never see!"
Someone near the front shouted back, "That's not what he said!"
"And how would you know?" the man snapped. "You trust a man who sends soldiers instead of talking?"
The crowd stirred again—voices overlapping, tension rising.
Another figure joined him, then another. They didn't shout at first. They echoed.
"President Sico is lying!"
The words landed hard.
A few voices hesitated.
Then one repeated it.
"President Sico is lying!"
Another followed.
Louder.
"President Sico is lying!"
The chant didn't sweep the crowd yet, but it took root in pockets, bouncing from mouth to mouth like something people were waiting to say out loud.
Sico felt it in his chest.
Not fear.
Something colder.
Piper swore softly under her breath. "That didn't take long."
Preston's eyes tracked the men carefully. "They're organized."
"Yes," Sarah said. "Or at least practiced."
Below, the first man pressed his advantage. "They talk about humanity, but where was that humanity when they decided who deserved to live? When they decided belief itself was a crime?"
"That's not—" someone started.
"You don't know that!" the man cut in. "You only know what they tell you! And now they want you scared, quiet, obedient!"
More voices joined in. Some angry. Some uncertain. Some just loud enough to feel included.
"President Sico is lying!"
The guards shifted, hands hovering closer to weapons—not raising them, but ready.
Sico lifted one hand slightly.
Sarah noticed immediately. "You want to speak again?"
"Not yet," he said.
He watched instead.
The chant fractured the crowd, splitting it along invisible lines. Some people shouted back, telling them to shut up. Others stepped away, faces tight with indecision. A few listened too closely, eyes darting between the balcony and the agitators, searching for something solid to grab onto.
Truth didn't always win by being loud.
Sometimes it won by surviving the noise.
One of the agitators pointed toward the guards. "Look at them! Standing there with guns like we're the enemy! Is this what freedom looks like now?"
A woman near him snapped back, "They're there because people like you keep stirring things up!"
"Because someone has to!" he shot back.
The courtyard teetered.
Sarah leaned in close to Sico. "We can pull them out," she said quietly. "Detain the instigators before this turns."
"And make martyrs?" Sico replied. "No."
Preston frowned. "If this keeps escalating—"
"I know," Sico said. "But if we move first, we prove their point."
Below, the chant surged again.
"President Sico is lying!"
Louder this time.
More voices.
The sound crawled up the stone walls and wrapped around the HQ like a challenge.
Sico took a breath.
Then another.
He lifted the microphone again.
The feedback crackled briefly, and that alone drew attention. The chant didn't stop, but it stuttered.
"I'm going to say this once," Sico said, his voice steady but edged now with something harder. "And then I'm going to listen."
That wasn't what they expected.
The agitator sneered upward. "Oh, now you want to listen?"
Sico didn't look at him. He looked at the crowd as a whole.
"You're right about one thing," he said. "You don't have to trust me."
The chant faltered.
"You shouldn't trust anyone just because they stand on a balcony or wear a title," he continued. "That's how people get hurt."
Some murmurs of agreement surfaced.
"But if you're going to accuse me of lying," Sico said, his voice firming, "then you should demand proof that is l, not slogans."
The agitator laughed sharply. "And you'll give it to us?"
"Yes," Sico replied without hesitation.
That shut several people up.
"I won't do it today," he said. "Because intelligence work doesn't happen on a stage. But I will open portions of the investigation. Redacted where necessary. Witness statements. Patterns. Evidence of raids and disappearances."
The man shouted, "Convenient!"
"Necessary," Sico corrected. "And overdue."
The crowd quieted more now that not silent, but attentive again.
"You want to talk about humanity?" Sico continued. "Then let's talk about responsibility. About what happens when groups are allowed to grow unchecked because confronting them is uncomfortable."
He paused.
"The Children of Atom didn't start as an army," he said. "They started as people who needed something to believe in. And somewhere along the way, belief became justification."
The agitator scoffed. "So you decided to wipe them out."
"No," Sico said sharply. "We decided to stop them."
The edge in his voice carried.
"And if you think that decision was easy," he added, "or that it didn't cost us something too, then you don't know anything about leadership."
That drew a reaction.
Not cheers.
But something heavier.
The agitator pointed again. "Listen to him! Still pretending he's the only one who can make these choices!"
Sico finally looked directly at the man.
"You want to know why I'm standing here instead of soldiers dispersing you?" he asked. "Because you're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to question me. Even now."
The man hesitated, just a fraction.
"But don't mistake that freedom for permission to tear this place apart from the inside," Sico continued. "Because that helps no one."
The chant didn't restart.
Instead, arguments broke out among the protesters themselves.
"You're twisting his words!"
"No, he's twisting yours!"
"Shut up, both of you!"
The agitators lost cohesion as quickly as they'd gained it. Some backed away when they realized they weren't carrying the whole crowd with them. Others doubled down, shouting over everyone, desperate to keep control.
One of them yelled, "This is how it starts! Today it's them, tomorrow it's you!"
A man near the front turned on him. "Then what do you want? Do nothing? Let people vanish?"
"You don't know they did!"
"And you don't know they didn't!"
The argument spiraled outward.
Sico lowered the microphone again.
"That's enough," Sarah said softly behind him that not as an order, but a statement.
"Yes," Sico agreed. "It is."
He stepped back from the balcony at last.
Inside the office, the noise dulled slightly but didn't disappear. It pressed against the walls like weather.
Piper let out a breath she'd clearly been holding. "Well," she said quietly, "you didn't lose them."
"Didn't win them either," Preston replied.
"No," Sico said. "But that was never going to happen today."
Sarah watched the courtyard through the open doors. "The instigators are backing off," she noted. "Not leaving—but they've lost momentum."
"Good," Sico said. "Let them argue among themselves. That's healthier than one voice shouting over everyone."
Piper closed her notebook slowly. "You know this isn't over."
Sico nodded. "I know."
Sico nodded once.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The noise outside still pressed against the office walls with voices rising and falling, boots scraping stone, the restless movement of people who hadn't decided whether they were finished being angry or just tired. The protest hadn't vanished. It had merely shifted into something quieter, more dangerous in its own way.
He stepped forward again.
Back toward the balcony.
Sarah turned her head sharply. "Sico—"
"I know," he said softly. "Just a little more."
Preston studied him, then gave a small nod. Piper hesitated only a second before following, notebook already forgotten in her hand.
When Sico stepped back into view, the courtyard reacted instantly. Heads lifted. Conversations paused mid-sentence. A few scattered boos rose, but they were swallowed by the larger curiosity of what he might say next.
He raised the microphone again.
This time, he didn't wait for silence.
"Two days ago," Sico said, his voice carrying without force, "I told you this."
That alone caused a ripple.
"Some of you heard it," he continued. "Some of you didn't. Some of you heard it and decided it didn't matter."
He paused, letting the words hang.
"I told you over Freemasons radio as the one most of you listen to while you work, while you eat, while you sleep tgat one of our own soldiers defected."
A murmur swept the crowd.
Not outrage.
Recognition.
A few faces tightened. Someone near the back muttered, "I remember that…"
Sico nodded slightly, as if acknowledging them personally.
"One of our soldiers," he repeated, "walked away from his unit. Not because he was captured. Not because he was coerced. He chose to join the Children of Atom."
The agitator on the crate stiffened.
Sico didn't look at him.
"He didn't just leave," Sico continued. "He sabotaged his own patrol. Injured his teammates during an operation. People he'd eaten with. Trained with. Trusted."
A sharp inhale rippled through the front rows.
Someone shouted, "That's not true!"
"It is," Sico said calmly. "And if you listened two days ago, you already know that."
The courtyard shifted again, but differently now. Less shouting. More people turning to one another, whispering urgently.
"I didn't hear that part," a woman said to the man beside her.
"He said something about a defector," another replied. "I thought it was just rumors."
"It wasn't," Sico said, his voice steady. "We don't broadcast rumors."
The agitator found his voice again. "One soldier doesn't justify burning a settlement!"
Sico finally turned his gaze fully toward him.
"You're right," he said. "It doesn't."
That response hit harder than any argument.
"But one soldier didn't make that decision," Sico continued. "He was a symptom."
The crowd quieted further.
"He wasn't the first," Sico said. "He wasn't the last. He was the one who failed."
The words landed heavy.
"We'd already intercepted communications by then," Sico went on. "Already tracked movements. Already connected disappearances across three regions. People who left their homes chasing 'enlightenment' and never came back."
A man near the front shook his head slowly. "Why didn't you tell us all of that?"
"I told you what I could," Sico replied. "When I could."
"And when it was too late?" someone shouted bitterly.
"No," Sico said firmly. "Before it became worse."
He rested one hand against the railing again, grounding himself.
"That soldier injured his teammates because he believed what he was doing was righteous," Sico said. "Because someone convinced him that loyalty to a cause mattered more than loyalty to people."
The crowd listened now.
Not silently.
But intently.
"That's how this spreads," Sico continued. "Not with armies. With ideas. With conviction. With the promise that pain has meaning if you endure it long enough."
The agitator scoffed again, but the sound was weaker this time.
"You're twisting faith into a crime," he said.
"No," Sico replied. "I'm describing what happens when faith is weaponized."
A woman stepped forward from the crowd, her voice shaking but strong. "So what happened to that soldier?"
The question cut through everything else.
Sico didn't answer immediately.
"He's alive," he said at last. "In custody."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"He's injured," Sico added. "Not from us. From the people he tried to protect."
That landed hard.
"We're interrogating him," Sico said. "Not to punish him. To understand how he was turned. Who else he spoke to. How deep it goes."
The agitator opened his mouth, but someone else shouted first.
"So you're saying they were already inside us?"
Sico nodded. "Yes."
That word inside was settled into the crowd like a stone dropped into water.
"They weren't just worshiping radiation in some distant ruin," Sico said. "They were recruiting. Watching. Waiting."
Preston crossed his arms tighter beside him, eyes never leaving the courtyard.
"That's why we acted when we did," Sico said. "Not because they were strange. Not because they believed something different. But because they crossed from belief into preparation."
A man near the center shouted, "Then why burn it all?"
"Because leaving it standing would have let it become a shrine," Sico replied. "And shrines outlive leaders."
The words hung heavy.
Somewhere near the back, someone said quietly, "He told us. I remember now."
Others nodded slowly.
The agitator shook his head, desperation creeping into his voice. "You're still justifying it after the fact!"
"No," Sico said. "I'm explaining it."
There was a difference.
"And I didn't wait until today to do it," he added. "I didn't hide it. I put it on the airwaves two days ago, knowing it would anger people. Knowing it would raise questions."
He looked out over the crowd again.
"This reaction?" he said. "This anger? This doubt? I expected it."
The agitator shouted, "Then why act surprised now?"
Sico's gaze hardened slightly.
"I'm not surprised," he said. "I'm still here."
That quiet confidence unsettled more than shouting ever could.
A guard near the perimeter glanced at Sarah, then back to the crowd. The tension had shifted again that not gone, but redistributed.
People began talking among themselves more urgently now.
"If that's true…"
"He did say it on the radio…"
"My brother heard it. He told me."
"So why didn't they say more?"
"Would you have believed it if they did?"
Arguments sparked and died quickly, replaced by uneasy contemplation.
The agitator stepped down from the crate, suddenly less elevated l. He tried to push forward again, but the crowd no longer parted for him so easily.
Sico lowered the microphone.
"I'm not asking you to thank us," he said. "I'm not asking you to like us."
He paused.
"I'm asking you to remember that we don't make these decisions lightly," he said. "And we don't make them alone."
He gestured slightly behind him that not just at Preston or Sarah or Piper, but at the building itself. The people inside. The systems. The long nights of debate and doubt that never made it onto the radio.
"You want oversight?" Sico said. "You want accountability?"
A few voices answered cautiously, "Yes."
"You'll get it," he said. "Not today. But soon."
The agitator laughed bitterly. "Empty promises."
"Maybe," Sico replied evenly. "But I'm still standing here making them."
That shut him up.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the crowd began to thin again. Not dispersing in defeat, but in exhaustion. Anger could only burn so long before it needed fuel, and right now, no one was quite sure where to find more.
People left in clusters, still arguing, still questioning but quieter. Less unified in outrage. More fragmented by doubt.
The guards remained steady, but their posture eased incrementally.
When Sico finally stepped back inside, the doors closing behind him, the noise dulled once more.
Piper exhaled sharply. "Well," she said, rubbing her temples, "if nothing else, you reminded them that radio exists."
Sico allowed a faint, tired smile. "Information doesn't help if people forget it."
Preston looked at him seriously. "You put a target on yourself by saying that."
"I already had one," Sico replied. "At least now it's honest."
Sarah watched the courtyard through the glass, eyes sharp. "Some of them believed you."
"Yes," Sico said.
"And some didn't," she added.
"Yes," he repeated.
She turned to face him fully. "That soldier, are we ready for what he might reveal?"
Sico's expression darkened slightly.
"No," he said honestly. "But we don't get to choose the timing of truth."
Outside, the last remnants of the protest drifted away, leaving behind scuffed stone, discarded signs, and the lingering echo of voices that hadn't quite decided what they believed yet.
Sico stayed where he was for a moment longer after saying it.
Not because he had more to add.
But because leadership sometimes meant letting the silence do the work for you.
The office felt heavier now, like the walls themselves had absorbed the argument outside and were holding onto it. Through the glass, the courtyard continued to empty in slow, uneven waves. Not everyone left at once. Some lingered in small knots, voices low, heads close together. Others walked away alone, shoulders hunched, carrying questions they hadn't had when they arrived.
Sico watched them go.
He didn't chase their approval.
He never had.
Behind him, the door slid shut with a muted thud as one of the guards sealed the balcony access. The sound marked a shift from public to private, from performance to consequence.
Sico turned away from the glass.
"SARAH," he said.
No anger. No urgency.
Just intent.
She straightened immediately, already reading the direction his thoughts were moving.
"Yes."
"I want patrols increased across all Freemasons territory," Sico said. "Effective immediately."
Preston's head snapped up slightly. Piper stopped rubbing her temples.
Sarah didn't interrupt.
"Not just the obvious routes," Sico continued. "Not just borders and trade roads. I want coverage around old ruins, radiation pockets, abandoned settlements, anywhere belief could take root without being seen."
Sarah nodded once. "Full saturation."
"Targeted," Sico corrected gently. "Smart."
He stepped toward the table, palms resting against its scarred surface again, the same place he'd stood the night before when he'd ordered a war.
"The Children of Atom don't build like raiders," Sico said. "They don't announce themselves. They settle quietly. They gather quietly. They preach quietly until they don't."
Preston folded his arms. "You think there are more cells?"
"I know there are," Sico replied. "The only question is how many we haven't found yet."
Sarah's jaw tightened. "You want us to disrupt worship gatherings?"
"I want us to prevent them from forming," Sico said. "There's a difference."
Piper glanced between them. "That's going to be… delicate."
"Yes," Sico said. "It will."
He looked back to Sarah.
"They're dangerous," he said, voice firm now. "Not because of numbers. Not because of weapons alone. But because they attack with faith and radiation."
Sarah didn't flinch.
"They don't need to outgun us," Sico went on. "They just need to convince someone to open a door. To look the other way. To believe that dying for something feels better than living without it."
Silence settled over the room again.
"I won't allow another settlement to grow in our blind spots," Sico said. "I won't allow another patrol to walk into an ambush built on scripture and glowing dust."
Sarah met his eyes. "Understood."
"I want visible patrols," Sico continued. "And invisible ones. Intel units. Long-range observers. Community liaisons. Anyone hears whispers from chants, sermons, radiation rituals, they report it."
"And if they find something?" Sarah asked.
Sico didn't hesitate.
"They call it in," he said. "We isolate. We investigate. And we shut it down before it turns into a shrine."
Preston exhaled slowly. "That's going to stretch us."
"Yes," Sico agreed. "It will."
He finally sat down, the chair creaking softly beneath him.
"But letting this spread will cost more," he added quietly. "In lives. In trust. In time we don't have."
Sarah nodded again. "I'll redeploy units. Increase night patrols. Rotate sentinels near high-radiation zones."
"Good," Sico said. "And no lone patrols near suspected sites."
"Already learned that lesson," Preston muttered.
Sico looked up at him. "We'll keep learning it if we don't adapt."
Piper closed her notebook slowly. "You realize what this means, right?"
Sico looked at her.
"You're turning belief into a security variable," she said. "People are going to say you're criminalizing faith."
"I'm not," Sico replied. "I'm responding to a weaponized ideology."
She studied him for a long moment. "You're going to need to explain that. Repeatedly."
"I know," Sico said. "That's why you're still here."
She sighed, half a laugh escaping despite herself. "Lucky me."
Sarah turned toward the door. "I'll brief my officers."
"Wait," Sico said.
She paused.
"Do this quietly," he added. "No broadcasts. No public announcements."
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "After today?"
"Especially after today," Sico replied. "We don't need to give anyone something else to chant about."
She nodded. "Understood."
As she left, Preston lingered.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Sico looked tired now. Not weak. Just worn.
"No," he said honestly. "But that's not the same as uncertain."
Preston gave a small, grim smile. "Never is with you."
When Preston left too, only Piper remained.
She leaned against the table, studying him with the sharp, journalist's eye she never quite turned off.
"You know," she said, "you could've avoided half of this by keeping that soldier's defection classified."
"Yes," Sico agreed. "I could have."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
Sico thought for a moment.
"Because secrecy rots," he said. "And because if people are going to accuse me of hiding things, I'd rather give them something real to argue over."
Piper snorted softly. "That's one way to look at it."
She gathered her things. "I'll prep another broadcast. Not today. But soon."
"Good," Sico said. "Stick to facts. No drama."
She smiled faintly. "I'm insulted you even have to say that."
When she left, the room finally fell quiet.
Sico leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for just a second.
Not to rest.
Just to breathe.
The patrols began that afternoon.
Not with fanfare.
With movement.
Convoys rolled out in staggered intervals, vehicles splitting off at junctions that hadn't seen uniformed presence in months. Foot patrols replaced static guards in outlying settlements.
Sarah ran the operation from a command room that smelled like old coffee and ozone.
Maps covered every wall.
Red markers for known radiation hotspots.
Yellow for suspected movement.
White pins for unanswered questions.
"Rotate Delta Squad through the Glowing Marsh," she ordered. "But keep them at range. No direct engagement unless confirmed."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And pull Echo Team back from the southern ridge," she added. "I don't want them exposed overnight."
The radio crackled constantly.
Patrol leaders checking in.
Scouts reporting anomalies.
Radiation spikes.
Unidentified gatherings.
Most were nothing.
A scavenger camp too close to an old reactor.
A brahmin herd glowing faintly from runoff.
A preacher shouting about the end times who turned out to be drunk, not devout.
But Sarah logged everything.
Because patterns didn't reveal themselves all at once.
They whispered.
Sico watched the territory change from his office balcony as evening crept in.
He saw the movement.
The lines tightening.
The Republic becoming alert.
Below, settlers noticed too.
Some felt reassured.
Others felt watched.
Both reactions mattered.
Magnolia passed through the courtyard with a clipboard tucked under one arm, directing supply workers with quiet efficiency. Jenny walked beside her, expression tight, eyes scanning faces as if trying to read which ones might turn hostile next.
Sico watched them both.
He hadn't thanked them.
Not yet.
Power required labor, and labor required trust but gratitude could wait until survival was secured.
As night fell, the patrol lights became more visible.
Sweeping arcs across distant hills.
Slow-moving dots along old highways.
The Commonwealth didn't sleep easily that night.
Neither did Sico.
Near midnight, Sarah returned.
She looked tired.
But focused.
"Initial reports are coming in," she said, stepping into his office without ceremony.
Sico gestured for her to continue.
"No confirmed Children of Atom sites yet," she said. "But we've found signs."
Sico straightened slightly. "What kind of signs?"
"Shrines dismantled recently," Sarah said. "Radiation traces where there shouldn't be any. Symbol carvings scraped off walls."
"They moved," Sico said quietly.
"Yes," Sarah agreed. "Or they were already moving."
She hesitated, then added, "One patrol intercepted a small group outside Old Finch territory. No weapons. Just robes. Chanting."
Sico closed his eyes briefly. "Did we engage?"
"No," Sarah said. "We observed. They dispersed on their own after an hour."
"That won't last," Sico said.
"No," she agreed again.
She studied him. "You were right."
He didn't respond to that.
"I'll keep the patrols up," Sarah said. "Rotate teams. No fatigue."
"Good," Sico said. "And Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"If we find another settlement forming…"
She met his gaze.
"We end it," she said.
Sico nodded once.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The same way he always did when the weight settled back onto his shoulders.
"Because they don't attack with bullets alone," he said. "They attack with belief. And belief, once it roots, is harder to uproot than any fortress."
Sarah stood there a moment longer, then left him alone again.
Sico turned back toward the balcony doors.
Beyond them, the Commonwealth stretched out that dark, restless, alive with people who didn't know how close the edge really was.
______________________________________________
• 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:-