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Sico stepped down from the Humvee last, boots striking the pavement with sharp finality. He stood in the glow of the floodlights, eyes fixed on the cages as if daring the monsters inside to stir.
The Commandos fanned out around the convoy, helmets swiveling, eyes sharp despite the fatigue in their bones. The long mission had left them aching, but discipline kept their movements clean. Each man and woman knew what was expected: the cages had to be moved with precision, no mistakes, no lapses. The beasts they carried weren't dead—just sedated—and everyone could feel the potential violence humming inside those massive, chained bodies.
The floodlights caught the sweat on their faces as they checked straps, unlatched clamps, and signaled across the yard. Even the smallest gesture carried the weight of habit, drilled into them until instinct ruled.
Then came the heavy thrum of metal boots against pavement. A deep, hydraulic hiss followed, echoing between the buildings as the Power Armor team strode into the courtyard.
The effect was immediate. Conversations cut short, movements stilled for a heartbeat. There was something primal about the sound of a squad of armored giants walking into view. Their bulky silhouettes gleamed under the floodlights, paint scarred and plates dented from a dozen battles, each step a reminder of how much steel stood between humanity and annihilation.
"Armor Team reporting," came a muffled voice from inside a helmet. The speaker turned slightly, visor catching the light. "Here to assist with the load."
Sico gave a single, sharp nod. "Good timing."
The Power Armor team took position without another word, moving to flank the flatbeds. Their presence alone changed the atmosphere—Commandos who had been stiff with unease now moved with a touch more confidence, as if the armor itself lent them its strength. With those walking tanks bracing the cages, the mutants inside seemed less threatening, less likely to break free.
Sico stood apart from the immediate scramble, his posture still, eyes never leaving the cages. He didn't need to bark orders—the men knew their work, and his presence was command enough. The dart gun still hung at his side, and though the mission was technically over, the way his hand rested near it made clear that until those cages were behind reinforced walls, he wouldn't let down his guard.
That was when the Science Building's reinforced doors swung open.
A lone figure stepped into the floodlights, and the air shifted.
Virgil.
The man who walked toward them carried himself taller, straighter, his features restored to something closer to what they had once been.
The Commandos noticed. Conversations faltered; heads turned. Even the Power Armor team, helmets locked in place, gave subtle tilts as they tracked him crossing the courtyard. Virgil didn't flinch under the attention. He wasn't here to be gawked at—he was here for the creatures in the cages.
He stopped beside Sico, folding his thick arms across his chest. His eyes, though smaller now than in his mutant days, burned with a quiet, razor focus.
"You brought them," Virgil said, his voice rough but steadier than it had been in years.
Sico didn't look at him right away. His gaze was still on the cages, on the way the chains tightened and loosened with each sluggish breath of the monsters inside. Only after a moment did he turn, dark eyes locking with Virgil's.
"Where do you want them?" Sico asked. The question was simple, but the weight behind it wasn't.
Virgil glanced at the cages, then toward the looming bulk of the Science Building. "In my lab," he said finally. "I'll start preparations immediately. There's work to be done if we're going to learn anything from them."
His voice carried no hesitation, no doubt. He had been waiting for this moment—perhaps dreading it, perhaps hungering for it—but he was ready.
Sico studied him for a long beat, silent, unreadable. Finally, he gave a single nod.
"Then we put them in your lab."
The words carried across the courtyard, picked up by ears trained to catch every syllable from his mouth. Instantly, the squads shifted into motion.
"Armor Team, brace the cages," one Commando barked, his voice rising above the grinding of hydraulics. "Squad Four, secure the chains. On my mark."
The Power Armor soldiers moved first, heavy arms locking around the steel bars of the first cage. Hydraulic servos whined as they lifted, the entire flatbed groaning under the shift of weight. Chains clanked, taut and sharp, but the cage held. Slowly, carefully, they began to move it toward the Science Building's wide loading bay.
The Commandos followed close, rifles trained on the slumbering mutants, every nerve wired tight.
Virgil and Sico stood side by side, watching.
"This is just the beginning," Virgil muttered, almost to himself, though Sico heard him. "What's in their blood, their marrow—it's answers. Maybe even weapons. But it won't be easy."
Sico's reply was quiet, his eyes never leaving the lumbering shape of the cage as it crossed the courtyard. "Nothing worth having ever is."
Virgil's lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.
The first cage vanished into the Science Building's bay. Floodlights flickered across the steel as the Power Armor team returned for the second. This one rattled more, the mutant inside shifting with a guttural moan that scraped the night air raw. A ripple of tension spread through the Commandos, but no one broke. The armor held firm, the chains clanked, and step by step they hauled it inside.
Sico's gaze sharpened. Every sound, every shadow, every breath of wind could mean danger here. He stood rooted, commander's gravity anchoring the yard, until finally—finally—the second cage was gone too.
Only one remained.
This cage was the largest, the beast inside easily half again as massive as the others. Its chest rose and fell like the bellows of a forge, chains drawn taut with every exhale. The Power Armor team braced, sweat beading inside their helmets despite the cooling systems. When they lifted, the cage groaned in protest, steel bending but not breaking.
Step by step, they dragged it across the cracked pavement, each movement punctuated by the growl of servos and the shuffle of boots. The Commandos' rifles tracked every twitch of muscle beneath the mutant's skin.
Virgil exhaled slowly, his hands tightening into fists. "That one," he said quietly. "That one might hold the most answers."
Sico's jaw set, unreadable. "Or the most danger."
The mutant let out a deep, guttural rumble in its sleep, the sound reverberating through the courtyard like distant thunder. Even unconscious, its presence was suffocating.
But they got it inside.
The doors clanged shut behind the last cage, steel bolts sliding into place with the weight of finality. For the first time since the convoy had rolled in, the yard was silent.
Sico let out a slow breath. Then, finally, he turned to Virgil.
"They're yours."
Virgil nodded once, the barest flicker of emotion crossing his face. Determination. Resolve. A hint of something else—fear, maybe—but buried deep.
"I'll begin tonight," he said.
Sico studied him for another long moment, then gave the smallest incline of his head. "Don't waste time. We didn't risk lives to let them rot in cages."
The Science Building's reinforced doors sealed with a booming finality, muffling the heavy clang of chains inside. The courtyard outside sank back into silence, broken only by the lingering hiss of cooling servos from the Power Armor frames and the faint shuffle of tired Commandos dispersing to their barracks. Floodlights still cut across the yard, painting the night in stark whites and shadows.
Sico stood in the glow, his silhouette sharp and unmoving, while Virgil lingered at his side, his broad shoulders squared against the chill of the night. For a long beat, neither man spoke, each still measuring the weight of what they'd just done: dragging living monsters into Sanctuary, and locking them in the beating heart of its research wing.
Finally, Sico broke the quiet. His voice was steady, deliberate, but softer than it had been when he gave orders minutes earlier.
"Virgil."
The scientist turned, brow furrowing slightly at the tone.
Sico's gaze remained fixed on the steel doors, but his words cut through the night air with the precision of a blade.
"Don't forget why we risked this. Not just for chains and cages. I want you to dig deeper into that virus. Find a strain of the FEV we can control. One that can turn men into more than they are—but not into those." His chin dipped slightly toward the building, where the sleeping monsters rattled faintly in their prison.
Virgil blinked, caught for a moment between disbelief and recognition. His mouth opened as if to respond, but Sico kept speaking, his tone low, unyielding.
"You've already proven it can be reversed. You cured yourself. You brought your body back from the brink. That's something no one else has managed. But I know you, Virgil. You want more than this. You want to save the ones already lost—turn them back into what they once were. And I don't begrudge you that. You should pursue it. But don't blind yourself."
Sico turned then, finally meeting Virgil's eyes. His own were dark, steady, carrying the kind of weight that came from watching too many men die, and too many more live broken.
"There's another path in that virus. A key to strength without corruption. To building a soldier who can stand against the Brotherhood, against anything, without losing himself. We need that as much as we need a cure."
Virgil inhaled slowly, the lines in his face deepening as if those words had pressed more years onto him. He'd expected Sico to be pragmatic—commanders always were—but the request cut to the marrow of his fears and ambitions.
"You're asking me to… harness it," Virgil said, his voice rough, laden with hesitation. "To take the same strain that's destroyed so many lives, and twist it into something else. Something dangerous."
Sico's expression didn't waver. "I'm asking you to make it useful. For us. For the Republic."
Virgil looked away, staring toward the floodlit doors as if he could see through steel and concrete to the caged titans within. His throat tightened.
"You think I don't want that?" he muttered. "You think I don't lie awake every night wondering what it would take to make the virus give instead of take? But Sico… it's not just a disease. It rewrites a person, down to their bones, their mind, their soul. I was trapped inside that body for years, hearing my own thoughts echo against instincts that weren't mine. I know the weight of it. To give that kind of power deliberately—"
"You already did it," Sico interrupted, his tone calm but cutting.
Virgil's head snapped back toward him.
"You turned yourself back. You proved it can be directed. That means it can be controlled."
Virgil stared at him, lips parting, but no immediate answer came. His mind was a storm—memories of his mutation, his agonizing research in exile, the desperate hope of a cure that had driven him, and the miracle that had finally restored him. He had clawed his way back to humanity. And yet here was Sico, asking him not to stop at salvation, but to dive deeper, to weaponize the very curse he'd been fleeing.
Virgil's fists tightened at his sides. "You don't understand what you're asking. It's not just a formula. It's—"
"I do understand," Sico cut in again, his voice quieter now, but heavier, like steel weighed down by chains. "Because I've seen what happens when men fight monsters without being strong enough themselves. I've buried soldiers who gave everything and still weren't enough. And I won't keep burying them if there's another way."
That landed. Hard.
Virgil's jaw worked, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow the tightness building there. He looked at Sico again, and for a fleeting second, he didn't see the commander—he saw the man beneath, carrying every scar and death of the people he led.
"You want super soldiers," Virgil said, finally giving the thought shape.
"I want survivors," Sico replied. His gaze didn't waver, and his voice didn't rise. It was the kind of tone that broke through all protest because it carried truth too sharp to ignore. "And if that means men who can stand toe-to-toe with what's out there without becoming beasts themselves—then yes. Super soldiers."
The word hung between them, heavy, dangerous, intoxicating.
Virgil turned away, dragging a hand down his face. His skin still felt strange beneath his fingers—softer, thinner than it had been when mutated. Human again. Fragile again. He thought of the others, still trapped in monstrous forms, and of the men outside these walls who fought with little more than steel and courage against nightmares.
His breath left him in a long, weary sigh.
"I'll need more samples," he said finally, his voice gravel-soft but edged with resolve. "More DNA. More test subjects. The cure I made for myself—it worked because I had my own pre-mutation records, my own genetic code. To turn others back, I'll need the same. To alter the strain, to make it… selective, controlled… I'll need to pull apart every thread of its structure. That means experiments. Dangerous ones."
Sico's reply was immediate. "Then you'll have them. Whatever resources you need, you'll get. Just make sure your hands don't shake when it comes time to cut."
Virgil let out a humorless laugh, low and bitter. "Shake? My hands stopped shaking a long time ago, Commander."
They fell into silence again, the night air cool around them, the faint sounds of Sanctuary returning to its rhythm—a hammer strike here, a shouted greeting there, the restless bark of a dog. But between them, the air felt charged, like lightning waiting for ground.
Virgil's eyes drifted once more to the sealed Science Building. Inside were three hulking shapes that had once been men. Now, they were his responsibility—his test subjects, his chance at redemption, or damnation. He didn't know which.
Finally, he looked back at Sico. His face was pale in the floodlight, but his eyes burned with the same relentless drive that had carried him this far.
"I'll do it," Virgil said, each word measured. "I'll look for the strain you want. I'll keep pushing the cure. But Sico…" He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You need to understand something. If I succeed, if I find this balance—it won't just change your Republic. It'll change the world. And not everyone will think it's for the better."
Sico's expression didn't change, but there was the faintest glimmer in his eyes—something caught between pride and challenge.
"Then we make sure we're strong enough to hold it," he said simply.
Virgil stared at him a moment longer, then nodded once, sharply.
The deal was struck.
But in the quiet corners of Virgil's mind, a darker thought stirred. He had clawed his way back from monstrosity into fragile humanity. And now, he would willingly step into the jaws of the virus again, not for himself, but for all of them.
The silence stretched between them a little longer, until Sico finally shifted, breaking the spell. His boots crunched lightly against the gravel as he turned toward Virgil.
"If you need more," Sico said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of promise, "you just tell me. More super mutants. More test subjects. Whatever it takes. I'll see to it personally. You focus on the work. I'll get you what you need."
Virgil looked at him, and for a moment the floodlight's harsh glare caught in his eyes, reflecting something difficult to name. Not gratitude exactly, not fear either—something in between, something tangled. He nodded once, heavily.
"I'll hold you to that," Virgil murmured. His voice had a rawness to it, a man who knew too well what that offer meant, what it would cost.
Sico didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence was agreement enough. With a final glance toward the sealed laboratory doors, he stepped away, leaving Virgil in the shadow of his own thoughts, already haunted by the enormity of the task ahead.
The night air outside the pool of floodlight felt cooler on his face as Sico walked across the courtyard. The weight of command pressed against his shoulders, but his stride never faltered. A pair of figures waited for him near the Science Building's outer perimeter—shapes half-hidden until he came closer.
Sarah leaned against the fender of a flatbed truck, arms folded across her chest, her rifle slung at her back. Her sharp eyes tracked him as he approached, the kind of gaze that measured a man without speaking. Beside her, Preston stood tall, his broad-brimmed hat pulled low enough to shadow his expression. But Sico knew him well enough to recognize the tension in his stance, the unease flickering just beneath the surface.
As Sico drew near, Preston straightened, pushing himself a step forward as if to intercept him. Sarah pushed off the fender, though she stayed half a step back, letting Preston speak first.
"Commander," Preston began, his voice steady but carrying a note of doubt that he couldn't quite bury, "I've got to ask you again. One last time. Are you sure about this?" His chin jerked subtly toward the Science Building, the place where Virgil's new charges now slumbered behind reinforced steel. "This FEV work, this experiment… are you certain it's the path we need to walk?"
Sico paused, his dark eyes meeting Preston's. He didn't bristle at the question; he respected it. If anything, he almost seemed to have expected it.
"I'm sure," Sico said. His tone was steady, not defensive, not aggressive. Just certain.
Preston's mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn't back down. "Because what we're talking about—it's not just research. It's not patching up broken walls or training new recruits. This is playing with the kind of fire that burned the old world down."
Sarah's gaze flicked between them, silent but attentive.
Sico exhaled, slow and controlled. "You're right. It's dangerous. But tell me something, Preston. How many times have we thrown good men into a fight with super mutants, and watched them not come back?"
Preston's jaw clenched, but he didn't answer.
"How many?" Sico pressed, his voice dropping a notch lower, heavier.
Preston swallowed. "…Too many."
"Exactly," Sico said. He gestured toward the Power Armor team that was just now clanking away from the yard, their hydraulic frames fading into the night. "Those suits—they're miracles of old-world engineering. They let a man stand toe-to-toe with a mutant, sometimes even win. But they're not enough. Each one of those suits is a shell without a fusion core. And you know as well as I do—there aren't many left. Every battle drains us dry. Every mission forces us to ration cores like water in a desert."
Sarah finally spoke, her voice sharp, cutting through the tension. "He's not wrong, Preston. Half the time I send a squad out, I have to make the choice: who gets the armor, who doesn't. Who has a fighting chance, and who's walking into a slaughter."
Preston turned toward her, his eyes heavy. "I know. Believe me, I know. But that doesn't mean turning men into… into something else is the answer."
"No," Sico cut in, his voice calm but unyielding. "Not into something else. Not into mutants. Into more."
Preston's brow furrowed, but Sico continued, his words deliberate.
"You saw Virgil. He turned himself back. He found a way to reverse what was done to him. That means there's room to shape it, to control it. If he can take that virus and strip away the madness, strip away the loss of self, and leave only the strength… then we'd have something the Brotherhood couldn't match. Soldiers who don't need fusion cores to stand against giants. Soldiers who won't break when the monsters come."
Sarah's lips tightened, but her eyes never left Sico. Preston shook his head slowly, conflicted.
"And you'd… what? Just pick men at random and shove them into this experiment?" he asked, his tone harsher than before.
"No," Sico said at once. His answer was sharp, final. He took a step closer, his presence pressing down like a weight. "Only the best. Only the ones who know what they're signing up for. Men and women willing to take the risk, to become something more for the sake of everyone else. This won't be forced. It'll be chosen. And I'll choose carefully."
Preston studied him, his throat bobbing as he struggled with the thought. He wanted to argue, wanted to push back—but he couldn't deny the truth in Sico's reasoning. He'd seen the casualty lists. He'd carried bodies out of the rubble himself. He'd seen young recruits cut down because they didn't have the armor, didn't have the strength, didn't have a chance.
And now here was Sico, offering a possibility. Dangerous, yes. But maybe the only possibility.
"You really believe Virgil can do it," Preston said finally, his voice low.
"I do," Sico replied. "I believe he has the knowledge, and I believe he has the drive. And if he falters, I'll be there to set him straight. But make no mistake, Preston. If we keep fighting the way we've been fighting, we'll bleed ourselves out. And when the Brotherhood comes knocking, when their airships darken the sky, we'll have nothing left to give."
Sarah stepped closer now, her boots crunching softly on the gravel. "He's right. You know it. We can't win a war of attrition. We need an edge."
Preston's shoulders sagged. He rubbed a hand over his face, then adjusted his hat, his eyes heavy with the weight of it all.
"I don't like it," he admitted. "Every bone in me says it's wrong. But I can't argue with what you're saying, either. If Virgil can make it work—if it really gives us what you think it will—then maybe it's worth the risk."
Sico gave a single nod. "It is."
Sarah's expression softened ever so slightly, though her posture stayed sharp. Preston sighed, long and weary, as if some invisible burden had pressed harder on his back.
For a moment, the three of them stood in silence, the cool night wrapping around them. The Science Building loomed behind, holding its secrets, while beyond the courtyard, Sanctuary's lights flickered like distant stars.
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• 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:-