If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And outside the bunker, the sun was beginning to set across the Commonwealth.
Outside the bunker, the last light of the afternoon filtered through the trees.
The sky above the Commonwealth had begun shifting toward the warmer colors of evening as faded gold bleeding slowly into pale orange across the horizon. Long shadows stretched across the broken valley floor where the abandoned bunker sat half-buried in the hillside like a scar from another age.
Inside that bunker, the silence had become heavy.
Thirty commandos stood positioned around the room with quiet, disciplined control. Their rifles remained steady, their movements minimal, but the message was unmistakable.
The situation was over.
The smugglers knew it.
And they knew there was no way out.
Robert stood near the center of the room now, studying the group of men who had been arguing only moments earlier. The thieves looked very different now compared to the angry voices that had echoed through the bunker minutes ago.
Some of them stood frozen with their hands raised.
Others sat slowly on the ground where the commandos had ordered them.
A few looked pale.
One man was staring at the floor as if hoping the cracked concrete beneath his boots might somehow open and swallow him.
MacCready leaned casually against one of the stacked crates marked with the Republic seal. His rifle hung comfortably in his hands, though his eyes were still sharp as he watched the room.
"Alright," he said calmly, looking around at the captured men.
"Let's make this simple."
He pointed lazily at the crates stacked against the bunker walls.
Crates of preserved food.
Medical supplies.
Water containers.
Boxes of caps.
All stamped with the seal of the Freemasons Republic tax system.
"So here's the thing," MacCready continued, his tone almost conversational.
"We've got stolen taxes."
He tapped the crate beside him.
"We've got a hidden bunker."
Then he gestured toward the smugglers.
"And we've got the guys standing in the middle of it."
He shrugged slightly.
"Not a great day for you fellas."
One of the smugglers clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Another man looked between the commandos surrounding them and the bunker entrance, as if calculating odds that simply didn't exist anymore.
Robert stepped forward slowly.
His presence in the room carried a very different kind of energy compared to MacCready's relaxed sarcasm.
Where MacCready felt like a hunter who had just finished tracking prey through the forest, Robert felt like the quiet authority of someone who had already decided the outcome of the situation.
"You've been stealing from the Republic," Robert said.
His voice wasn't raised.
It didn't need to be.
"We know how the system worked."
He walked slowly toward a nearby table where several ledgers lay open.
Handwritten lists.
Shipment records.
Dates.
Numbers.
Robert glanced over them briefly.
"And we know how long it's been happening."
The smugglers shifted uncomfortably.
One of them finally spoke.
"You don't understand—"
MacCready immediately cut him off.
"Oh no," he said with a small grin.
"I think we understand just fine."
Robert closed one of the ledgers and set it back down.
Then he turned toward one of the commandos standing nearby.
"Secure the documents," he said.
"Everything here gets taken back."
The commando nodded and began gathering the papers carefully.
Another team moved toward the crates, checking inventory while recording the contents.
The bunker was quickly transforming from a smugglers' hideout into a crime scene.
MacCready pushed himself off the crate and stepped closer to Robert.
"Well," he said quietly.
"That answers the big question."
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
MacCready folded his arms.
"So now what?"
Robert glanced toward the captured men again.
Then he reached to his belt and pulled out a small military radio.
The metal casing was scratched from years of use, but the device still worked perfectly.
MacCready recognized the frequency dial immediately.
Sanctuary command channel.
Robert pressed the transmit switch.
Static crackled softly across the bunker for a moment.
Then Robert spoke.
"Sanctuary Command, this is Robert."
The radio hissed briefly.
Then a familiar voice came through the speaker.
Calm.
Clear.
Controlled.
It was Sico.
"Robert, go ahead."
The commandos inside the bunker continued their work quietly while Robert spoke into the radio.
"We found the source of the missing tax shipments," Robert reported.
Across the bunker, one of the smugglers slowly closed his eyes as if realizing the situation had now moved beyond their control entirely.
Robert continued.
"Hidden bunker south of the old highway interchange."
"We located multiple crates marked with Republic tax seals."
MacCready leaned against the wall nearby, listening with interest.
Robert's voice remained steady.
"And we've captured the group responsible."
For a moment the radio was silent.
Then Sico's voice returned.
"Alive?"
Robert glanced toward the prisoners.
"They are now."
MacCready snorted softly under his breath.
Robert continued speaking into the radio.
"Approximately eight suspects."
"Documents recovered."
"Supplies secured."
Another pause followed.
Then Sico spoke again.
"Good."
There was a quiet note of approval in his voice.
"Very good."
MacCready couldn't help smiling slightly.
He had been in enough operations over the years to recognize when a commander was satisfied with the outcome.
Sico continued.
"Bring them back to Sanctuary."
Robert nodded slightly even though Sico couldn't see him.
"Understood."
Sico added calmly.
"Put them in the prison."
"We'll handle the interrogation here."
MacCready tilted his head with mild interest at that.
Interrogation.
That usually meant the story wasn't over yet.
Robert pressed the transmit button again.
"We're moving out shortly," he said.
Then he paused.
"Convoy team should also be informed."
On the other end of the radio, Sico answered immediately.
"I'll contact Magnolia."
Robert acknowledged the order.
"Copy that."
The radio clicked as the connection ended.
For a few seconds the bunker returned to quiet activity.
MacCready walked over beside Robert.
"Well," he said.
"That was quick."
Robert clipped the radio back onto his belt.
"Efficiency matters."
MacCready looked toward the prisoners again.
One of them spoke nervously.
"What… what happens now?"
MacCready shrugged.
"Now?"
He nodded toward the bunker entrance where several commandos were already preparing transport restraints.
"Now you get a nice ride back to Sanctuary."
Another smuggler muttered under his breath.
"…great."
MacCready gave him a sideways glance.
"Trust me," he said.
"You should be happy we got here before someone else did."
The man frowned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
MacCready smirked.
"There are people in the Commonwealth who would've just shot you and taken the supplies."
He gestured toward the commandos around the room.
"We're the polite version."
Robert stepped closer to the prisoners.
"Stand up," he ordered calmly.
The men obeyed slowly.
One by one, commandos stepped forward and secured their hands with restraint cuffs.
None of them resisted.
The shock of the raid had already drained any remaining fight out of them.
Within minutes the prisoners were lined up near the bunker entrance.
Outside, the sky had darkened further.
The orange glow of sunset now stretched across the distant hills.
MacCready stepped out of the bunker and inhaled the cool evening air.
The forest was quiet again.
No movement.
No witnesses.
Just the soft wind passing through broken branches.
Behind him, Robert emerged with the rest of the team.
One of the commandos approached.
"Sir," he reported.
"Crates are secured."
"Transport team ready."
Robert nodded.
"Good."
He looked toward the prisoners now standing in a guarded line.
"These supplies go back to Sanctuary."
The commando nodded.
"And them?" he asked, glancing at the smugglers.
Robert's answer was simple.
"They go to prison."
MacCready folded his arms again.
"You think they'll talk?"
Robert looked at the prisoners.
"They will."
MacCready smirked slightly.
"Yeah…"
"Probably."
The convoy vehicles that had brought the commandos into the region were hidden further down the road beneath tree cover.
Within the next hour the bunker had been completely cleared.
Crates loaded.
Evidence secured.
Prisoners transported.
By the time the last truck rolled away from the hillside, the bunker looked abandoned once again.
Just another forgotten ruin in a broken world.
And somewhere far to the north, the lights of that growing settlement were beginning to shine against the darkening sky.
Because the Freemasons Republic was growing.
And now the people who had tried to steal from it were about to learn exactly what that meant.
Inside one of the transport trucks, the captured smugglers sat silently under guard.
No one spoke.
The rumbling engine filled the silence as the convoy moved across the cracked roads.
MacCready sat near the back of one of the trucks with his rifle resting across his lap.
Across from him, Robert looked out through the narrow viewing slit in the metal wall.
And toward the questions that Sico was about to ask.
Questions that might reveal just how deep the corruption had truly gone.
The convoy moved through the Commonwealth long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.
Night had settled over the wasteland slowly, the sky turning from orange to violet and finally into the deep blue-black of a clear evening. The broken roads ahead were illuminated by the dim glow of headlights cutting through dust and drifting fog.
Inside the transport trucks, the atmosphere was tense but controlled.
The prisoners sat shoulder to shoulder on the metal benches that lined the walls of the vehicle. Their hands were restrained in front of them with heavy cuffs, and two commandos sat across from them with rifles resting casually but deliberately across their laps.
The message was clear.
No one was escaping.
One of the smugglers shifted uncomfortably against the cold steel wall of the truck.
The ride had been rough. Every pothole in the shattered road sent vibrations through the vehicle, rattling the metal frame and shaking the passengers.
Across from them, Robert MacCready sat quietly with his back against the rear door.
His rifle rested across his knees.
He wasn't watching them constantly.
He didn't need to.
But every once in a while his eyes moved across the prisoners, calm and observant.
The kind of quiet attention that made people nervous.
One of the smugglers finally cleared his throat.
"Hey…"
MacCready glanced up.
The man hesitated.
"What's… going to happen to us?"
MacCready leaned his head back against the metal wall and sighed softly.
"You're going to Sanctuary," he said plainly.
The prisoner swallowed.
"And then?"
MacCready shrugged slightly.
"Then someone smarter than me starts asking questions."
The man frowned.
"Questions about what?"
MacCready tilted his head slightly.
"About how long you've been stealing from the Republic."
He tapped the side of his rifle with one finger.
"About who else helped you."
"About who bought the stolen supplies."
The prisoner looked away.
MacCready gave a small, humorless smile.
"See?"
He nodded toward him.
"You already know what they're going to ask."
The rest of the smugglers remained silent.
None of them looked particularly hopeful anymore.
At the front of the convoy, the lead truck rumbled along the broken road while the escort vehicles followed close behind.
Inside one of those vehicles, Robert sat quietly in the passenger seat.
The headlights stretched across the dark road ahead.
Beyond them, the land slowly began to change.
The ruined wilderness gradually gave way to signs of life.
Small farm lights appeared in the distance.
Wooden fences.
Watchtowers built by settlers under the protection of the Republic.
And finally, after nearly an hour of travel, the road curved toward a familiar sight rising from the darkness.
The growing settlement of Sanctuary Hills.
Lights glowed across the town.
Generator-powered street lamps illuminated the main paths.
Guard towers stood at the outer perimeter with soldiers posted behind sandbags and mounted machine guns.
The Republic flag moved slowly in the night breeze above the central command building.
As the convoy approached the main entrance checkpoint, one of the guards raised a hand.
But the moment he recognized the vehicles, his posture relaxed.
The gate opened immediately.
The trucks rolled through.
Inside Sanctuary, a few late-night workers paused to watch the vehicles pass.
Some settlers whispered quietly to each other as they noticed the armed escort and the unfamiliar prisoners sitting inside the transport truck.
Rumors traveled quickly in Sanctuary.
Tonight's story would spread before morning.
The convoy turned down the central road and continued deeper into the settlement.
Eventually the vehicles slowed as they approached a solid concrete structure built near the eastern edge of town.
The Sanctuary prison block.
It wasn't large.
But it was secure.
Thick reinforced walls.
Steel-barred cells.
Guard towers at both corners.
The lead truck rolled to a stop directly in front of the prison entrance.
Brakes hissed.
Engines rumbled quietly as the convoy settled into place.
MacCready pushed himself up from the bench inside the transport truck.
"Well," he said lightly.
"Welcome to Sanctuary."
One of the prisoners glanced toward the small window slit.
He could see the floodlights illuminating the prison yard outside.
His shoulders sagged.
The rear doors of the truck opened with a loud metallic clank.
Cool night air poured into the vehicle.
Several commandos stood waiting outside.
MacCready stepped down first.
His boots hit the gravel with a crunch.
He stretched his shoulders slightly after the long ride and looked toward the prison building.
A guard approached.
"Evening, sir."
MacCready nodded.
"Evening."
The guard glanced toward the truck behind him.
"These the smugglers?"
MacCready smirked faintly.
"Yeah."
He jerked a thumb toward the back.
"Got themselves caught sitting on a pile of stolen taxes."
The guard whistled softly.
"Well… that's not going to end well for them."
MacCready shrugged.
"Not my department."
He motioned toward the truck.
"Let's get them inside."
Commandos began escorting the prisoners out one by one.
The smugglers stepped down slowly, blinking under the harsh floodlights.
Around them, armed guards stood ready.
Rifles slung.
Eyes alert.
One of the prisoners looked toward the prison entrance and muttered quietly.
"…great."
MacCready heard him.
"Could be worse," he said casually.
The man frowned.
"How?"
MacCready gave him a sideways glance.
"You could still be out in the Commonwealth."
He gestured vaguely toward the darkness beyond Sanctuary's walls.
"Plenty of things out there that eat people."
The prisoner decided not to respond.
One by one the smugglers were escorted toward the heavy prison doors.
The steel gate opened with a grinding noise.
Inside, the dim hallway smelled faintly of metal and old concrete.
A guard captain stepped forward.
"You bringing me trouble tonight, MacCready?"
MacCready nodded.
"Eight prisoners."
He handed over a small report sheet.
"Caught running a tax theft operation."
The captain scanned the page quickly.
Then he looked up.
"Well…"
He glanced toward the prisoners.
"Guess they'll be staying with us for a while."
MacCready nodded.
"Until the boss starts asking questions."
The captain signaled to the guards.
"Cells three through six."
The prisoners were escorted down the corridor.
Metal doors opened and slammed shut as each man was placed into a holding cell.
The echo of the closing bars rang through the hallway.
Within minutes the smugglers were locked away.
MacCready stood in the corridor for a moment, watching the guards secure the final cell.
One of the prisoners leaned against the bars and looked at him nervously.
"What happens tomorrow?"
MacCready rubbed the back of his neck.
"Tomorrow?"
He shrugged.
"Tomorrow you meet the guy you should've been worried about from the start."
The man swallowed.
MacCready gave him a brief grin.
"Sleep well."
With that, he turned and walked back toward the prison entrance.
Outside, the night air felt cooler now.
The settlement was quieter as most residents had already gone inside their homes.
But the lights of the main command building were still on.
Across the settlement, Robert had already left the convoy area.
He moved steadily down the main path toward the largest structure in Sanctuary.
The headquarters of the Freemasons Republic.
Guards at the entrance stepped aside as he approached.
They recognized him immediately.
"Evening, sir."
Robert nodded.
"Evening."
He stepped inside.
The interior of the building was brightly lit compared to the dark streets outside.
Maps covered the walls.
Radios crackled softly at communication stations.
A few officers worked quietly at desks reviewing reports from patrols across the Commonwealth.
One of them looked up as Robert entered.
"Back already?"
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
"Where's MacCready?"
"Handling the prisoners."
The officer raised an eyebrow.
"Prisoners?"
Robert didn't stop walking.
"Tax smugglers."
That got the man's attention immediately.
Robert continued down the hallway toward the central office.
At the end of the corridor stood a heavy wooden door.
Behind it was the office of Sico.
Robert knocked twice.
From inside the room came a calm voice.
"Come in."
Robert opened the door and stepped inside.
Sico sat behind his desk, reviewing several reports under the light of a desk lamp.
The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of paper.
Sico looked up as Robert entered.
"You're back sooner than expected."
Robert closed the door behind him.
"Yes."
Sico leaned back slightly in his chair.
"How did the operation go?"
Robert answered simply.
"We found the bunker."
Sico's expression sharpened slightly.
"And?"
Robert stepped forward and placed a small folder of recovered documents on the desk.
"Evidence of stolen tax shipments."
"Multiple crates recovered."
"Eight suspects captured."
Sico studied him for a moment.
"Alive?"
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
Sico's expression softened slightly with approval.
"Good."
He glanced toward the window overlooking Sanctuary's dimly lit streets.
"And they're here now?"
Robert nodded again.
"They arrived with the convoy."
"MacCready is placing them in the prison."
Sico nodded thoughtfully.
For a moment he said nothing.
Then he looked back toward Robert.
"Good work."
Robert didn't respond.
Praise wasn't something he expected.
Sico stood slowly from behind the desk.
"Then we can begin the interrogation soon."
He walked toward the map table near the center of the room.
Pins marked settlements, caravan routes, and patrol zones across the Commonwealth.
Sico studied the map quietly for a moment.
Then he spoke again.
"I want to know everything about this operation."
His voice was calm.
But there was steel behind it.
"Who organized it."
"Who helped them."
"And who they were selling to."
Robert nodded.
"We recovered ledgers."
Sico looked back at him.
"That will help."
Outside the headquarters, the night continued settling over Sanctuary.
Inside the prison block, the smugglers sat quietly in their cells.
Night had fully settled over Sanctuary Hills by the time the first quiet hours of the interrogation began to approach.
The settlement had grown enough over the past months that even at night it never truly slept.
Generators hummed softly between the houses.
Guard towers stood illuminated by floodlights, their silhouettes moving occasionally as soldiers shifted their positions or scanned the dark wasteland beyond the walls.
Somewhere deeper inside the settlement, a brahmin let out a slow, tired grunt.
But near the eastern edge of Sanctuary, the air around the prison block felt different.
Quieter.
More serious.
Inside the headquarters building of the Freemasons Republic, Sico stood beside the large map table for another minute after finishing his conversation with Robert.
Pins marked trade routes.
Settlement territories.
Patrol zones.
And now, somewhere out there in the wasteland, a small marker indicated the bunker that had been uncovered.
The place where someone had tried to quietly bleed the Republic from the inside.
Sico rested one hand on the edge of the table and looked down at the map.
"Eight men," he said quietly.
Robert stood across from him.
"Yes."
Sico looked thoughtful rather than angry.
But that calm expression often meant he was thinking several steps ahead.
"That operation wasn't small," Sico continued.
"They had supply routes."
"Storage."
"Distribution."
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
Sico looked up.
"And people buying from them."
"That's what I want to know."
Robert understood immediately.
This wasn't just about catching thieves.
This was about discovering the network behind them.
Because a corruption operation like that rarely existed alone.
Sico finally stepped away from the table.
"Let's go see them."
Robert simply nodded.
The two men left the office together and walked down the corridor.
The headquarters building was quieter now.
Most of the officers had finished their work for the night.
But a few radio operators remained at their stations, headphones pressed against their ears as they monitored patrol communications from across the Commonwealth.
One of them looked up as Sico passed.
"Sir."
Sico gave a brief nod and kept walking.
Outside, the cool night air greeted them.
The path toward the prison block was lit by several tall floodlights mounted on steel poles.
Their bright white glow stretched across the gravel yard.
Sico and Robert walked side by side.
Neither spoke for a moment.
But as they approached the prison compound, Sico noticed something.
Two figures were already standing near the entrance.
One leaned casually against the railing beside the prison steps.
The other stood with arms folded, speaking quietly with one of the guards.
Sico recognized them immediately.
Preston Garvey.
And Magnolia.
Magnolia had apparently returned from the tax convoy earlier than expected.
And Preston was likely there because he had heard the same rumors that were already moving through the settlement.
As Sico and Robert approached, Preston looked up first.
"There you are."
Sico stopped in front of them.
"You heard."
Preston gave a small nod.
"Hard not to."
He gestured toward the prison building.
"Eight smugglers caught with stolen taxes."
Magnolia stood beside him, her expression thoughtful rather than angry.
"So it was real," she said.
Sico looked at her.
"Yes."
Magnolia crossed her arms slightly.
"That bunker operation we suspected."
Robert spoke quietly.
"We found the ledgers."
Magnolia let out a slow breath.
"That explains a lot."
Preston shook his head slightly.
"All this time someone's been stealing from the settlements."
Sico studied both of them for a moment.
Then he looked toward the guard captain near the entrance.
"Bring them to the interrogation room."
The captain nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Sico turned back toward Preston and Magnolia.
"You should hear this."
Magnolia gave a faint smile.
"Oh, I wasn't planning on missing it."
Preston nodded as well.
"Neither was I."
The four of them entered the prison building together.
Inside, the corridor lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor.
The guards moved with quiet efficiency.
One of them disappeared down the hall to retrieve the prisoners.
Sico led the group toward a heavy metal door near the end of the corridor.
Above the door, a small sign read simply:
INTERROGATION
The room inside was simple.
A reinforced table bolted to the floor.
Four chairs.
A single overhead light.
Concrete walls.
Nothing else.
Sico stepped inside first.
Robert followed.
Magnolia and Preston entered after them.
For a few moments the room remained quiet.
Then footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
The door opened.
Guards escorted two prisoners into the room first.
Their hands were still restrained.
They looked nervous.
Behind them came two more.
And then two more.
Until all eight smugglers had been brought into the room.
Some of them tried to avoid eye contact.
Others stared directly at Sico with uneasy expressions.
The guards pushed them into the chairs along one side of the table.
The metal cuffs clinked softly as they sat.
Sico remained standing for a moment.
Studying them.
The silence stretched long enough that the prisoners began shifting uncomfortably.
Finally Sico sat down across from them.
Robert stood slightly behind him.
Preston leaned against the wall near the door.
Magnolia sat beside Sico quietly.
Sico folded his hands together on the table.
His voice when he spoke was calm.
But very direct.
"Let's begin."
No one answered.
Sico looked from one smuggler to the next.
"You were caught with stolen property belonging to the Republic."
He gestured toward the guards.
"And with documents confirming a long-running smuggling operation."
One of the prisoners swallowed nervously.
Sico continued.
"I'm going to ask a few questions."
His eyes settled on the man sitting in the center.
"And I suggest you answer them honestly."
The man nodded weakly.
Sico asked the first question.
"Who organized it?"
The room fell silent again.
The smugglers exchanged quick glances.
One of them shook his head slightly.
"I… I don't know what you mean."
MacCready's voice came from the doorway behind them.
"Bad answer."
Everyone turned slightly.
Robert MacCready had just stepped into the room, arms folded as he leaned casually against the doorframe.
Sico didn't even look back at him.
But his voice remained steady.
"You were moving large shipments of stolen taxes."
"That doesn't happen without organization."
His gaze returned to the prisoner.
"So I'll ask again."
"Who organized it?"
The man hesitated.
Then he finally spoke.
"…a trader."
Sico tilted his head slightly.
"Name."
The smuggler licked his lips.
"Carver."
Robert made a note beside the table.
Sico continued calmly.
"Who helped you?"
The prisoners exchanged another uneasy glance.
One of them spoke quietly.
"Some caravan drivers."
Magnolia's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Which ones?"
The man hesitated again.
"Two from Bunker Hill routes."
Sico watched him carefully.
"And who were you selling the stolen supplies to?"
That question made the room grow even quieter.
The smugglers clearly didn't want to answer that one.
Preston stepped forward slightly from the wall.
"You were stealing from the settlements."
"Those supplies were meant to keep people alive."
One of the smugglers looked down at the table.
Finally another man spoke.
"…mercenaries."
Robert looked up.
"What kind?"
"Raiders."
Magnolia leaned back slightly in her chair.
"That figures."
Sico didn't react outwardly.
But the information was clearly important.
He asked the final question.
"Where is the hidden stash of caps?"
That one made the prisoners visibly tense.
The leader among them shook his head.
"We don't—"
MacCready pushed himself off the wall slightly.
"Careful."
The man froze.
Sico leaned forward slightly.
His voice was still calm.
But now there was unmistakable authority in it.
"You were stealing taxes for months."
"You sold supplies."
"You moved caps."
He held the man's gaze.
"So I'll ask one last time."
"Where."
"Is."
"The stash."
The prisoner finally broke.
"…north warehouse."
Robert immediately wrote it down.
Sico leaned back slowly in his chair.
The first pieces of the corruption network had just been uncovered, and this interrogation was only the beginning.
______________________________________________
• 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:-