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!)
...
The gate closed behind them with a heavy thud, and just like that they were back at Far Harbor.
For a moment, the fog stayed outside.
Pressed up against the walls.
Waiting.
But not inside.
Inside, Far Harbor breathed.
Not comfortably.
Not peacefully.
But it breathed.
The difference was immediate.
The air smelled different from salt, damp wood, old nets, and something faintly metallic. The constant groan of the dock structures creaked beneath shifting tides, and somewhere in the distance, a loose chain clanged rhythmically against a post.
CLANK.
CLANK.
CLANK.
Human sound.
Structured sound.
Alive sound.
After everything outside, it almost felt unnatural.
Sico didn't pause long.
He stepped forward into the settlement, boots striking against the worn wooden planks with quiet, deliberate steps. The power armor soldiers followed behind, their presence drawing attention almost immediately.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
You didn't miss a group like that.
A few townsfolk glanced up from their work from repairing nets, sorting crates, hauling supplies. Their eyes lingered.
Some wary.
Some curious.
Some simply… tired.
One man muttered something under his breath as they passed.
Another shook his head slightly, turning back to his work.
Far Harbor didn't welcome easily.
But it didn't panic either.
Not anymore.
Not after everything it had already endured.
Sico moved through it without hesitation.
He already knew where he was going.
"General store," he said.
"Affirmative," one of the soldiers replied.
They adjusted formation slightly, falling into a looser pattern now that they were inside the settlement. Weapons lowered that not relaxed, but not immediately threatening.
The general store wasn't hard to find.
It stood near the center of the dock area, built from reinforced wood and scavenged metal like most of the town, but more structured. A sign hung above the entrance, weathered and worn, barely legible through years of exposure.
The door creaked as someone stepped out just as they approached, pausing mid-step when they saw who was coming.
"…Right," the man muttered, stepping aside quickly.
"Appreciated," one of the armored soldiers said flatly.
Sico didn't acknowledge it.
He stepped inside.
The interior of the general store was dim but functional.
Shelves lined the walls, stacked with whatever supplies Far Harbor could scrape together from canned goods, tools, spare parts, ammunition, things that looked like they had been salvaged, repaired, and resold more than once.
A lantern flickered near the counter, casting shifting shadows across the room.
Behind that counter was Brooks.
He looked up as the door opened.
And immediately froze.
Not dramatically.
Not like he was about to run.
But there was a moment.
A flicker.
Something behind the eyes.
Then it was gone.
Replaced by something practiced.
Something controlled.
"…Can I help you?" Brooks asked.
His tone was casual.
Almost too casual.
Sico stepped forward.
The soldiers remained near the entrance, filling the space without crowding it.
"We require information."
Brooks leaned slightly against the counter, crossing his arms loosely.
"…Yeah?"
"About what?"
His eyes moved between them.
Assessing.
Calculating.
Measuring risk.
Sico didn't waste time.
"A synth was expected to arrive."
Brooks blinked once.
Just once.
"…Don't know what you're talking about."
The denial came quickly.
Too quickly.
Sico didn't react.
Didn't push immediately.
He just watched him.
Silence stretched for a moment.
Brooks shifted slightly.
"…Look," he said, tone sharpening just a fraction, "I sell supplies."
"That's it."
"People come in, they buy things, they leave."
He shrugged faintly.
"…Nothing else."
Sico stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
But enough to close the space between them.
"You assist incoming individuals."
Brooks' jaw tightened slightly.
"…You've got the wrong guy."
Sico held his gaze.
Steady.
Unmoving.
Then he spoke.
Not louder.
Not harsher.
But precise.
Deliberate.
"Production code: BX-7-14-Delta-3."
The effect was immediate.
Brooks froze.
Completely.
The practiced expression shattered.
Gone.
Replaced by something raw.
Something real.
His eyes widened just slightly.
Then narrowed.
"…Where did you get that?"
Sico didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Brooks exhaled slowly.
His shoulders dropped just a fraction.
The resistance faded.
Not completely.
But enough.
"…Alright," he muttered.
"Yeah."
"You've got my attention."
The tension in the room shifted.
The soldiers didn't move.
But the air changed.
Brooks straightened slightly, his posture losing that casual edge.
More focused now.
More… honest.
"…You're from Acadia," he said.
Not a question.
Sico nodded once.
"Yes."
Brooks rubbed his jaw briefly, thinking.
"…Figures."
He glanced toward the door, then back at Sico.
"…Yeah."
"Someone came through."
Sico didn't interrupt.
Brooks continued.
"They weren't in good shape."
Sico's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Clarify."
Brooks exhaled.
"…They were scared."
"Really scared."
He shook his head faintly.
"…Not like the usual ones."
Sico processed that.
"Explain."
Brooks leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the counter.
"They came in here, asking questions."
"Didn't make much sense."
"Kept looking over their shoulder like something was right behind them."
He paused.
"…I've seen nervous."
"That wasn't nervous."
"That was panic."
Sico's voice remained steady.
"What did you tell them?"
Brooks let out a quiet breath.
"…Same thing I tell all of them."
"Where to go."
"How to get there."
He gestured vaguely.
"Acadia."
Sico nodded once.
"And?"
Brooks shook his head.
"…They didn't stay."
Sico's gaze sharpened.
"They left."
"Yeah."
Brooks ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face.
"I tried to calm them down."
"Tried to explain."
"But they weren't listening."
He tapped the counter lightly.
"…It was like something had already made up their mind for them."
Sico spoke.
"Direction."
Brooks didn't answer immediately.
He looked at Sico.
Then at the soldiers behind him.
Then back again.
"…South."
Sico's expression didn't change.
"Clarify."
Brooks pointed vaguely toward the docks, beyond the walls.
"They ran out of town."
"Didn't even take supplies."
"Just… gone."
He shook his head again.
"…Headed south of the settlement."
Sico processed that.
Quickly.
South.
Deeper into the island.
Away from Acadia.
Away from safety.
Toward—
Unknown variables.
Nick's absence was noted again.
This was not a conversation he could be part of now.
Sico spoke again.
"Timeframe."
Brooks thought for a second.
"…Not long ago."
"A day."
"Maybe less."
Sico nodded once.
Then.
"Pursuit likely viable."
Brooks frowned slightly.
"…You're going after them."
Sico didn't answer.
Because it wasn't a question.
Brooks leaned back slightly, arms crossing again but this time, it wasn't defensive.
Just… tired.
"…Look," he said, quieter now, "whatever spooked them…"
He hesitated.
"…It wasn't normal."
Sico met his gaze.
"Define."
Brooks shook his head.
"…I don't know."
"But I've seen people run."
"I've seen panic."
He exhaled slowly.
"…This was different."
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
Then Sico spoke.
"Understood."
He turned.
No hesitation.
No lingering.
"Prepare to move."
The soldiers responded instantly.
"Confirmed."
Brooks watched them as they shifted, something uneasy lingering in his expression.
"…Hey," he said suddenly.
Sico paused.
Just slightly.
"…If you find them," Brooks added, "tell them…"
He hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"…Just get them where they need to go."
Sico didn't respond.
But he didn't dismiss it either.
Then he moved.
Toward the door.
The soldiers followed.
The general store fell quiet again as they left.
The door creaked shut behind them.
Sico stepped forward.
"South."
One word.
One direction.
The next objective.
And without another pause, they moved again.
For a moment, the noise of Far Harbor returned in full of voices, tools, the low groan of the docks shifting with the tide but Sico didn't slow.
"South," he repeated.
The word wasn't loud.
But it carried.
The soldiers adjusted immediately, falling back into a tighter formation as they stepped away from the store and back into the open walkways of the settlement.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
The sound of their movement drew eyes again.
More this time.
Word traveled fast in a place like this, even without anyone speaking it out loud. People saw them go in, saw them come out, saw the shift in direction.
Something had changed.
A few dockworkers paused mid-task, watching them move toward the gate again.
"…Back out?" one muttered.
"Didn't even stay long," another replied.
Sico didn't acknowledge any of it.
His path was already set.
The gate loomed ahead once more with heavy wood reinforced with metal plating, guards positioned above and beside it, scanning the fog like they always did.
One of the gate guards straightened as they approached.
"…You heading back out?" he called down.
"Yes," Sico answered simply.
The guard exchanged a glance with another.
"…South side's worse," the second one added. "Fog's been thicker."
Sico didn't respond.
Because that changed nothing.
"Open the gate," the first guard ordered.
The gatekeeper moved again, pulling at the mechanisms, chains rattling loudly as the structure groaned under its own weight.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
The gate opened.
And the fog poured back in.
Not physically.
But it felt like it did.
The boundary dissolved the moment they crossed it.
The air changed instantly.
Colder.
Heavier.
Less forgiving.
Sico stepped through first.
The soldiers followed.
Behind them, the gate shut again.
Sealing Far Harbor away.
The path south wasn't marked.
Not clearly.
Not cleanly.
But there were signs.
Subtle.
Broken branches.
Disturbed earth.
Tracks that weren't quite human.
Or maybe they were, just panicked.
"Spread," Sico ordered.
The formation widened slightly, each soldier covering a different angle while maintaining line of sight.
Visibility dropped almost immediately.
The fog here was thicker than before.
Denser.
It clung lower, pooling around their legs, twisting between the trees in slow, unnatural patterns.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Their movement sounded louder out here.
More exposed.
Sico's gaze moved constantly.
Scanning.
Tracking.
Then he stopped.
"Hold."
The soldiers froze.
One step.
Then stillness.
There.
On the ground.
Dark.
Thick.
Fresh.
A pool of blood.
Not scattered.
Not splattered from a fight.
Collected.
Heavy.
"Inspect," Sico said.
One of the soldiers stepped forward, lowering slightly despite the bulk of the armor. The hydraulics hissed quietly as he adjusted his stance.
"…Recent," the soldier said.
Sico stepped closer.
The blood hadn't dried completely.
Still wet at the edges.
Still… warm.
"Direction," Sico asked.
The soldier pointed.
A trail.
Faint at first.
Then clearer.
Dragged.
Something had been moved.
Or someone.
"Follow."
And they did.
The trail wasn't clean.
It never was.
It weaved through the trees, sometimes disappearing over rock, sometimes pooling again in darker patches where the ground dipped.
But it was there.
Consistent enough.
A story written in red.
The deeper they went, the more the forest changed again.
The trees thinned.
The ground sloped downward.
And beneath it all, a new sound.
Waves.
Distant.
Rolling.
The shore.
Sico didn't slow.
But the soldiers adjusted again.
Tighter.
More alert.
Because places like this in a open ground near water, they were never empty.
The trail led them out of the thicker forest and onto a narrow, broken path.
Ahead was a structure.
A house.
Old.
Half-collapsed in places.
Wood rotting, walls patched together with mismatched boards and scrap metal.
Close enough to the shoreline that the sound of waves was constant now.
The blood trail led straight to it.
Sico stopped.
"Contact likely," he said.
"Confirmed."
The soldiers raised their weapons.
Not firing.
Not yet.
But ready.
Then there movement.
Figures emerged from around the house.
From behind it.
From the broken doorway.
Trappers.
More than before.
Rough.
Wild.
Weapons drawn, but not immediately attacking.
They had seen the group first.
And unlike before, they didn't rush.
One of them stepped forward.
Thin.
Scarred.
A grin stretched too wide across his face.
"…Well," he said, voice rough, amused. "Look what walked out of the fog."
The others shifted behind him.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hungry.
Sico didn't raise his weapon.
Didn't step back either.
He stepped forward.
Calm.
Controlled.
"I require information."
The Trapper laughed.
Actually laughed.
"…Information?"
He looked back at the others.
"You hear that?"
"They want information."
A few of them chuckled.
Low.
Unpleasant.
The lead Trapper looked back at Sico.
"…You lost or something?"
Sico's voice didn't change.
"A group passed through this area."
The Trapper tilted his head slightly.
"…Maybe."
Sico continued.
"Well they are wounded."
That made something shift.
Just slightly.
The Trapper's grin widened.
"…Yeah."
"I remember that."
Sico held his gaze.
"Where are they?"
The Trapper didn't answer immediately.
He took a step closer instead.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Like he was savoring something.
"…They didn't get far."
A pause.
Then.
"…Didn't want them to."
A ripple of quiet laughter moved through the group.
Sico didn't react outwardly.
But something beneath the surface has shifted.
"Clarify," he said.
The Trapper's grin stretched wider.
"…They came through here."
"Bleeding."
"Barely holding together."
He gestured vaguely toward the ground.
"…Easy target."
Sico's voice remained level.
"What did you do?"
The Trapper shrugged.
"…What do you think we did?"
Another one spoke from behind him.
"Didn't even fight back much."
"Too weak."
More laughter.
Sico didn't move.
Didn't interrupt.
The lead Trapper leaned in slightly.
Close enough now that the smell of him from rot, sweat, blood that carried through the air.
"…We ate them."
Silence.
Not immediate.
But heavy.
The words didn't echo.
They just… settled.
Sico's gaze didn't break.
"…Confirm," he said.
The Trapper chuckled.
"…You want proof?"
He turned slightly.
"Oi."
"Bring it."
One of the others disappeared briefly behind the house.
Then returned.
Holding something.
Wrapped loosely in cloth.
Dark stains soaked through it.
He tossed it forward.
It hit the ground between them with a dull, wet sound.
Sico looked down.
Then stepped forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He bent just enough to see.
The cloth shifted slightly.
And inside.
There a multiple head.
Not human.
Not fully.
Synthetic.
But broken.
Damaged.
The face still intact enough to recognize what it had been.
What it was.
The Trapper's voice cut through again.
"…That what you're looking for?"
No one laughed this time.
Not immediately.
Because something had changed.
Not in the fog.
Not in the forest.
In the air between them.
Sico straightened slowly.
His gaze lifted from the remains.
Back to the Trapper.
There was no visible rage.
No sudden movement.
No outburst.
Just a stillness.
The kind that came right before something irreversible.
"Confirmed," Sico said quietly.
The Trapper smirked.
"…Yeah."
"Thought so."
A beat.
Then Sico spoke again.
Different this time.
Not louder.
But final.
"Engage."
The word dropped like a blade.
And the world snapped.
The power armor soldiers moved instantly.
Weapons up.
No hesitation.
No warning.
Gunfire erupted at point-blank range.
The first Trapper didn't even react before he was thrown backward, the impact tearing through him with brutal force.
The others scrambled.
Too late.
Too slow.
The advantage was gone the moment they spoke.
The clearing filled with chaos.
But not the same kind as before.
Not wild.
Not scattered.
Controlled.
Systematic.
Sico stepped forward into it, weapon raised, firing in precise bursts. Every movement calculated. Every shot placed.
A Trapper charged from the side, cur down mid-step.
Another tried to flee toward the shoreline, dropped before he made it ten feet.
The house echoed with gunfire.
The trees caught the sound and threw it back.
The waves kept moving.
Unchanged.
Within seconds, it was over.
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Absolute.
The bodies lay scattered across the clearing.
The fog crept back in.
Slow.
Uncaring.
As if nothing had happened at all.
"Area secure," one of the soldiers reported.
Sico stood still.
Looking at the house.
At the ground.
At the place where the trail had ended.
Then at the remains.
The mission had changed again.
Not rescue.
Not recovery.
Something else now.
He turned.
"Prepare for return."
No hesitation.
No delay.
The soldiers responded immediately.
"Confirmed."
For a few seconds after the last shot faded, nothing moved.
Not the trees.
Not the water.
Not even the fog.
It just hovered there.
Like the island itself was waiting to see if anything else would happen.
But it didn't.
The Trappers were down.
All of them.
Scattered across the clearing in broken shapes that no longer looked like threats, just remnants of something violent that had ended as quickly as it began.
The waves kept rolling in the background.
Slow.
Indifferent.
The house stood where it always had.
Rotting.
Leaning.
Silent witness to something that wasn't new to it.
Sico remained still for a moment longer.
Not frozen.
Not hesitating.
Just… finishing the process.
His eyes moved across the scene again.
The bodies.
The ground.
The cloth.
And what lay inside it.
The remains of the synths.
Not one.
More than one.
Fragments of identities that had never even made it to Acadia.
Never made it to safety.
Never made it to the place that had been meant for them.
Sico didn't show anything.
No anger.
No disgust.
No reaction that could be read easily.
But something had shifted.
Subtle.
Deep.
Final.
He turned slightly.
"Collect."
One of the power armor soldiers stepped forward immediately.
"Confirmed."
Sico's gaze flicked once toward the cloth bundle.
Then back to the soldier.
"Secure the remains."
The soldier nodded and moved without hesitation, stepping toward the discarded bundle. The hydraulics of the armor hissed softly as he crouched, the heavy frame adjusting to the uneven ground.
The cloth was stained through.
Dark.
Thick.
He didn't hesitate.
Didn't flinch.
Just reached down and lifted it carefully, as if the weight of it was more than physical.
Another soldier stepped forward with a reinforced carry bag, unfastening it quickly and holding it open.
The first soldier placed the contents inside.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Not like scrap.
Not like cargo.
But not like ceremony either.
Just… necessary.
The bag closed with a dull snap.
Sealed.
Contained.
"Package secured," the soldier reported.
Sico nodded once.
"Maintain integrity."
"Understood."
A brief silence followed.
Not empty.
But settled.
The kind that comes after something irreversible has already happened.
Then Sico turned.
"New directive."
The soldiers shifted slightly.
Ready.
"Return to Acadia."
The words landed differently than before.
This wasn't pursuit anymore.
This wasn't search.
This was delivery.
Information.
Proof.
Closure.
Of a kind.
One of the soldiers spoke.
"Route?"
Sico's gaze shifted toward the treeline.
Toward the direction they had come from.
Then beyond.
"Northwest vector. Adjust for elevation."
"Confirmed."
Sico gave a single word.
"Move."
And they did.
The forest closed around them again as they left the clearing behind.
The house disappeared first.
Then the shoreline.
Then even the sound of the waves faded into the distance.
Only the fog remained.
Constant.
Unchanging.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Their movement resumed its rhythm.
Steady.
Unbroken.
But the purpose had shifted.
Before, they had followed something.
A trail.
A chance.
Now, they carried something.
A result.
The fog thickened again as they moved deeper inland, swallowing the path behind them almost immediately.
No sign of the house remained.
No trace of what had happened there.
Just another piece of the island's quiet, hidden violence.
"Maintain spacing," Sico said.
The soldiers adjusted.
Not as wide as before.
Not as tight as combat formation.
But ready.
Always ready.
Time passed.
Measured again in steps.
In movement.
In distance.
Then.
"Contact."
The word came sharp.
Immediate.
Right flank.
Shapes moved in the fog again.
Fast.
Erratic.
Trappers.
Another group.
Drawn by the sound.
Or just unlucky enough to cross paths.
They didn't hesitate this time.
Didn't wait.
Didn't talk.
They attacked.
Weapons raised.
Shouting.
Wild.
"Engage."
The response was instant.
Gunfire tore through the fog, cutting down the first wave before they even closed half the distance.
A second group tried to flank, were cut off.
Dropped.
The encounter ended faster than the last.
No conversation.
No questions.
Just outcome.
"Area clear."
Sico didn't stop.
"Continue."
And they did.
The terrain shifted again as they climbed.
Higher ground.
Rockier.
The forest thinning just enough to allow glimpses of something above.
Not yet visible.
But present.
Acadia.
Still distant.
But closer.
The fog here moved differently.
Less dense.
More drifting.
As if the elevation pushed it aside just enough to breathe.
Then another sound.
Low.
Heavy.
Familiar.
"Fog Crawlers," one of the soldiers said.
Two of them.
Emerging from between the rocks ahead.
Massive shapes moving with that same unnatural blend of weight and speed.
They had noticed the group.
Of course they had.
There was no hiding from something like this.
Sico didn't slow.
"Hold line."
The soldiers spread slightly, forming a defensive arc.
Weapons raised.
Ready.
The first creature charged.
Fast.
Too fast for its size.
"Fire."
Rounds slammed into its shell, sparks flashing against chitin as the creature pushed forward through the barrage.
It didn't stop.
Didn't hesitate.
It never did.
But this time, they were ready.
Focused fire.
Precise targeting.
Joints.
Underbelly.
Weak points.
The creature staggered mid-charge, its momentum faltering as the damage accumulated faster than it could compensate.
Then it fell.
Hard.
The ground shook.
The second one came in from the side, trying to flank as Sico moved.
Closing the distance.
Weapon raised.
He fired at close range, targeting the thinner plating beneath its front limbs again. The creature recoiled, thrashing violently, claws tearing into the ground as it tried to regain balance.
A soldier stepped in behind it.
Fired.
Again.
Again.
Until it dropped.
Silence returned.
Again.
Always the same pattern.
Violence.
Then nothing.
"Status."
"All units operational."
Sico nodded once.
"Proceed."
The climb continued.
Step by step.
The fog thinning slightly with elevation.
The structure ahead finally beginning to take shape through the haze.
At first, just an outline.
Then more.
Metal.
Concrete.
Reinforced walls.
The observatory.
Acadia.
The dome barely visible above it all, looming like something watching from above.
Sico didn't slow.
But the formation shifted again.
Controlled.
Recognizable.
Less combat-ready.
More presentable.
As they approached the outer perimeter, figures became visible.
Synth guards.
Three of them.
Exactly where they had been before.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
Their weapons lowered, but not relaxed.
The same posture.
The same presence.
"Stop."
The command came again.
Clear.
Firm.
Sico halted.
The soldiers behind him did the same.
Perfect synchronization.
The lead synth stepped forward slightly.
His eyes moved across the group.
Counting.
Assessing.
Noting the absence.
"…You have returned."
"Yes," Sico replied.
The synth's gaze flicked briefly toward the bag one of the soldiers carried.
Something shifted.
Subtle.
"State purpose."
Sico met his gaze.
"Report findings."
A pause.
The fog moved between them.
Then.
"…Wait."
The synth turned.
Walking back toward the gate.
Just like before.
The others remained.
Watching.
Unmoving.
The silence stretched.
Shorter this time.
Because now, they knew what was coming.
Movement returned quickly.
The gate opened.
Slow.
Heavy.
And Chase stepped forward again.
Her eyes moved over them immediately.
Counting.
Assessing.
Then stopping.
On the bag.
She didn't speak right away.
Didn't need to.
She already knew.
Not everything.
But enough.
"What happened?" she asked.
Sico stepped forward slightly.
His voice calm.
Unchanged.
"Target did not reach destination."
Chase's gaze didn't leave the bag.
"…Explain."
Sico didn't hesitate.
"Interception occurred."
A pause.
"Trappers."
Chase's expression hardened.
Just slightly.
"Outcome?"
Sico gestured once.
The soldier stepped forward.
Unfastened the bag.
Opened it.
Just enough.
The contents didn't need to be fully revealed.
The implication was immediate.
Clear.
Final.
Chase didn't flinch.
Didn't react outwardly.
But something in her posture shifted.
Tightened.
Not shock.
Not surprise.
Something closer to… confirmation.
"…I see."
The bag was closed again.
Sealed.
Contained.
Chase exhaled slowly.
Then looked back at Sico.
"You came back."
Sico answered simply.
"Yes."
Chase nodded once.
"…Good."
A brief silence followed.
Then she stepped aside.
"You may enter."
The gate remained open.
Waiting.
Sico didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward.
The soldiers followed.
And just like that, they crossed back into Acadia.
______________________________________________
• 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:-