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And as the team began packing up, the last echo of the Breaker's thunder still seemed to hang in the cold morning air — a promise, a warning, and a beginning all at once.
The wind was still hissing softly through the broken plates when Sico finally turned back toward Mel. The others were gathering equipment — Preston helping coil the power cables, Sarah speaking quietly to one of Mel's assistants near the generator — but Sico's gaze stayed on the engineer.
"Mel," he said, voice steady but low, the kind of tone that pulled attention without needing to raise it.
Mel looked up from the half-dismantled stabilizer mount, his hands still gloved and stained with graphite dust. "Yeah?"
Sico took a few steps closer, his boots crunching on the gravel. "I want you to be the one building the Breakers we need. Personally."
Mel blinked once, then frowned slightly. "Personally? Commander, that'll slow production by a mile. We could have the assembly line running in—"
"That's not the point."
The way Sico said it left no room for argument, though there wasn't anger in his voice — just something heavier, the sound of someone who'd already thought it through too many times.
He continued, "I don't want a single prototype or part of this weapon outside your hands or your lab. Not yet. Not until we know exactly how far its reach goes, and what it'll take to control it."
Mel straightened, the faint buzz of the cooling rails fading behind him. "You're worried about leaks."
"I'm worried about everything," Sico admitted quietly. "You saw what it did to that T-60 plate. The Brotherhood's been holding onto power armor for decades because it's their identity — their symbol. That shot didn't just pierce armor; it pierced that myth. And if word gets out that we've got something that can burn through their shell like paper, every scavenger, raider, and warlord this side of the Commonwealth will want one."
He paused, eyes narrowing on the blackened fragments glinting faintly in the dirt. "And I'm not giving anyone that chance."
Mel exhaled slowly, pulling off his gloves. The lines around his eyes deepened with thought. "I get it. Secrecy's the smart move. But you realize what you're asking — building these myself means maybe one a week, at best. And that's if I don't sleep."
Sico nodded. "Then we build one a week. No more."
Mel looked at him for a long moment. "That'll barely arm a squad."
"I'm not arming a squad," Sico said. "I'm arming the future."
That drew silence. Even Preston, who'd been wiping down the rifle stand, turned slightly at that. There was a weight in the Commander's voice — the kind that came from someone already thinking three steps ahead, already seeing a line that no one else yet could.
Sarah broke the quiet first. "He's right." She stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she looked between them. "If we start mass-producing it now, it's not just the Brotherhood who'll notice. Our allies will. People talk. People trade. And before long, the thing that gave us an edge becomes the thing that divides us."
Mel let out a long breath through his nose, half frustration, half resignation. "You two always know how to make an inventor feel like a liability."
Sarah smiled faintly. "We make sure you stay alive long enough to keep inventing. That's all."
That earned a small laugh from Preston, who was leaning against a crate nearby. "Hell, I'm just happy we've got one of those things built at all. One's enough to make the Brotherhood think twice."
"Maybe," Sico said quietly. "But fear alone doesn't win wars."
Mel crossed his arms, squinting slightly at the Breaker. "Then what does?"
Sico's answer came without hesitation. "Discipline. Timing. Control."
The word hung in the air, heavier than it should've been. For a while, the only sound was the distant whir of cooling fans and the metallic tick of the still-hot rails.
Then Mel finally sighed, pushing his gloves into his back pocket. "Alright. I'll do it your way. I'll build them myself. But I'm warning you — we're going to burn through materials faster than a Deathclaw through a settlement."
Sico's gaze softened, almost approving. "Then we'll ration what we have. The Freemasons Republic wasn't built on plenty; it was built on restraint. And right now, restraint is the only thing keeping us from becoming the thing we're fighting."
Mel gave him a long look — not skeptical, but searching — before he finally nodded. "Alright, Commander. I'll get the lab prepped. My team'll strip down the second prototype and start reinforcing the coils. But… I have to say, I'm curious."
"About what?"
"About what you said. We'll hold off until we see its power in the field." He tilted his head slightly, studying Sico's expression. "You planning to test it personally?"
Sico didn't answer immediately. He turned, looking out across the yard, toward the horizon where the early morning light had fully broken through the mist. "When the time comes," he said finally, "I'll be there. I want to see what it does — not on armor, but on the battlefield. I want to know what kind of future we're building with this."
Sarah's voice was quiet, but firm. "That future depends on who holds it."
Sico nodded once. "Exactly."
Mel ran a hand through his hair, smearing a bit of graphite across his temple without noticing. "Then let's make sure it stays in the right hands."
By the time they'd cleared the test yard, the sun had climbed high enough to melt the last of the frost clinging to the fence posts. The team moved in practiced silence — engineers hauling cables and crates, Sarah walking the perimeter with the precision of someone who noticed everything without needing to say a word.
Sico walked beside Mel, both of them slower than the rest, trailing behind the noise of the cleanup.
"You know," Mel said after a moment, his voice quieter now, "every time I build something like this, I tell myself it's the last. The last time I'll put something into the world that can take it apart."
Sico glanced sideways at him. "And yet you keep building."
Mel smiled thinly. "Because people like you keep asking."
That earned a faint, almost weary chuckle from Sico. "Fair."
They walked a few more steps before Mel added, "You ever think about what happens after? After the Brotherhood's gone, after the Republic stabilizes? What happens to all of this?"
Sico's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the weapons. The labs. The factories. All the people who'll still know how to build them. We can't unlearn this. Once the genie's out, it doesn't go back in the bottle."
Sico's eyes hardened, but not with anger. "Then we build something stronger than weapons to hold it back."
"Like what?"
"Principles."
Mel huffed, amused but skeptical. "Principles don't stop bullets."
"No," Sico agreed. "But they stop people from pulling the trigger."
That quieted them both for a while. The sound of footsteps and distant machinery filled the space instead.
When they finally reached the lab, Mel's assistants had already begun hauling the equipment inside — the Breaker secured in a reinforced case, the spent armor plates stacked for analysis. The lab smelled of metal shavings and ozone, the air thick with the warmth of running generators.
Sico stopped at the doorway, glancing around the room — the cluttered benches, the wires snaking across the floor, the whiteboards scrawled with equations and energy diagrams. It was chaos, but it was human chaos — the kind born of curiosity and necessity, not greed.
Mel moved past him, already grabbing a set of tools. "I'll get started on the containment upgrade tonight," he said, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. "If you want a production prototype, give me a week."
"I'm not in a rush," Sico said. "Do it right, not fast."
Mel nodded absently, already lost in thought.
Sarah entered behind them, her presence grounding the room. "Commander," she said, "I'll have patrols doubled around this sector. No one gets near the lab without clearance."
"Good," Sico said. "And have the scouts monitor Brotherhood frequencies. If they start shifting patrol routes near the river crossing, I want to know before nightfall."
Sarah nodded and turned to leave, but paused just long enough to glance toward Mel. "Try not to blow yourself up, alright?"
Mel smirked. "No promises."
When she was gone, Preston leaned against the doorframe, helmet tucked under his arm. "You know," he said, tone casual but eyes sharp, "I've seen you cautious before, Commander. But never this cautious. What's really got you spooked?"
Sico met his gaze evenly. "You saw what that rifle did."
"Yeah. It tore through Brotherhood steel like it was paper."
"Exactly," Sico said. "And now imagine that power in the hands of someone who doesn't care about consequences."
Preston was silent for a beat, then gave a low whistle. "Alright. Fair point." He pushed off the wall. "Still, can't deny it feels good knowing we've got something that scares them for once."
Sico didn't disagree. But he didn't smile either.
After Preston left, the lab quieted again. Only the hum of machinery and the occasional clink of Mel's tools filled the air.
Sico stood near the window, watching the pale sky darken slightly as clouds began to gather again. For a long while, neither man spoke.
Then Mel's voice broke the quiet, softer this time. "You know," he said, "sometimes I think about the Brotherhood engineers. The ones who built their tech. I bet half of them started out the same way I did — just trying to make something that worked. Something that helped."
Sico turned his head slightly. "And then?"
Mel shrugged. "Then power got involved. Hierarchies. Control. Someone up top decided knowledge was too dangerous for anyone else to have."
Sico's gaze drifted back toward the window. "That's why we have to be better."
Mel looked at him — really looked — and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I hope we are."
Hours later, the lab lights glowed soft amber against the dusk creeping in through the windows. Most of Mel's team had gone, but he stayed — hunched over the workbench, hands steady, eyes fixed. The Breaker lay open in front of him, its internal coils exposed like veins of light.
Sico was still there too, standing silently at the far end of the room, watching. He didn't interrupt — didn't need to. The sight alone told him everything he needed to know about the kind of man Mel was.
Finally, as Mel set down his soldering tool, Sico spoke. "You're doing the right thing."
Mel smiled faintly without looking up. "Funny. Doesn't feel like it. Feels like I'm building something the world should never see."
"Maybe it shouldn't," Sico said quietly. "But the world doesn't give us that choice."
Mel nodded once, slow and thoughtful. "Then I'll build it. Carefully. Quietly."
Then suddenly the room had grown quieter by the minute. The buzz of Mel's tools had faded, replaced by the low hum of the generator that kept the lab's lights alive through the growing dusk. The smell of heated metal and ozone hung in the air, sharp and faintly bitter, the scent of creation and exhaustion blending together into something strangely human.
Mel was still hunched over his bench, welding goggles pushed up on his forehead, eyes rimmed with fatigue but burning with that same stubborn light. The disassembled Breaker lay before him like a sleeping beast — its inner coils pulsing with faint traces of light as the capacitor cooled.
Sico stood behind him for a while, arms folded, silent. Watching. Thinking. The faint amber glow from the lamps threw shadows across his armor, carving harsh lines along his face — a commander's face, but one that carried the kind of quiet weariness only responsibility could give.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, even — the kind of calm that carried weight.
"I'll leave it to you, Mel."
Mel glanced back, eyes tired but alert. There was something in Sico's tone that wasn't just trust — it was finality. A decision already made, a burden quietly passed.
"You sure?" Mel asked, his voice rough from hours of silence. "You won't check the next build yourself?"
Sico shook his head slightly. "No. I trust you. This is your domain. Just… keep it tight. No unnecessary eyes, no shortcuts. You're the only one I'll answer to about this project from now on."
Mel leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under him. "Alright, Commander. I'll keep it buried deep. I'll make sure only my hands touch it."
Sico's eyes softened a little. "Good." He turned, heading toward the door. His boots echoed softly on the metal flooring, the kind of rhythm that carried a quiet resolve. Before leaving, he paused just long enough to add, "Get some rest when you can. You'll need a clear head for what's coming."
Mel gave a dry laugh. "Rest? Haven't heard that word in a while. But I'll try."
Sico didn't answer. He just gave a brief nod — the kind of nod soldiers understood as both respect and farewell — then stepped out into the corridor.
The hallway outside was dim, lit by long fluorescent strips that flickered occasionally as power diverted elsewhere in the facility. His footsteps echoed softly as he moved through the quiet. The world beyond the lab felt larger again — colder. The air smelled faintly of oil and gunmetal, the scent of the Army HQ nearby.
He didn't head home. He didn't even pause to breathe. His mind was already shifting gears — from invention to strategy, from the controlled fire of Mel's lab to the burning heart of the Republic's command.
By the time he stepped through the heavy blast doors of the Army HQ, the night had fully settled. The building buzzed with low activity — officers moving between desks, maps projected on holo-tables, runners carrying field reports from the northern watchposts. The low murmur of organized chaos filled the air.
Sarah Lyons was already there, standing over a tactical map that glowed faint blue across the main table. Preston was beside her, one hand resting on the butt of his rifle, the other gripping a mug of coffee that looked like it had seen better hours.
They both looked up as Sico entered.
"Commander," Sarah greeted, voice sharp and professional, but there was something familiar in her tone — that slight thaw that came only when she spoke to him, not as a subordinate, but as a peer who understood the weight he carried.
Preston gave a small nod. "Evening, sir. Mel's test went well, I take it?"
Sico moved closer to the table, setting his gloves down beside the map. "Better than expected," he said. "But that's not what we're here to talk about."
Sarah straightened slightly. "You're thinking deployment."
"Exactly." Sico's gaze flicked to the center of the holo-map, where red markers pulsed near the outskirts of the river valley — Brotherhood patrols, shifting slowly but deliberately toward Republic-controlled zones. "We've built a weapon that can turn their armor into slag. But a weapon's only as strong as the hands that hold it. We need a division trained, disciplined, and invisible until the time is right."
Preston leaned forward slightly, mug forgotten. "You're talking about a specialized unit."
"Yes," Sico said. "Something outside regular command. A squad built specifically for the Breaker — trained to handle it, maintain it, and deploy it where it'll matter most."
Sarah's brow furrowed slightly. "That kind of specialization will take time. Weeks of training, at least. And it'll pull veterans from other squads. You're suggesting a whole new division?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Sico said. "The Brotherhood has their Paladins — soldiers wrapped in steel and arrogance. We'll have something leaner, faster, smarter. A small strike division that can cripple their armor columns before they even reach our frontlines."
Preston's eyes lit up, the soldier in him already seeing the possibilities. "We've got the right men for it. The Commandos — our special force that have been running deep-field missions for months without losing a man. They know precision. They know control."
Sico nodded slowly. "That's exactly what I was thinking. They has the men for field mobility, and also for tactical discipline. We build a new division from them. The Breaker Division."
Sarah considered that for a long moment, fingers tapping the edge of the holo-map. "That could work," she said finally. "They're both adaptable. And loyal. But we'll need to rewrite the command structure. Specialized armament means specialized clearance. No one below Lieutenant rank should even know the Breaker exists."
"Agreed," Sico said. "We'll keep it classified as experimental heavy ordinance for now. Code designation 'Project Thunderline.' Only command-level officers, Mel, and the Breaker team get full access."
Preston grinned faintly. "Project Thunderline. Sounds like something out of a pre-war comic."
Sico gave a rare ghost of a smile. "Then it's fitting. Because once this starts, the Brotherhood's going to think thunder itself is turning against them."
Sarah leaned forward again, eyes sharp. "What's your plan for the first deployment?"
Sico looked down at the glowing map, his gaze steady. "Field test. Controlled engagement. Once Mel finishes refining the second prototype, we give them to the commandos and order them on a raid near the river outpost. We'll see how the Breaker performs in real conditions — range, stability, environmental interference."
Preston nodded, already mentally organizing the logistics. "We'll need a secure drop route. That area's crawling with Brotherhood scouts. Maybe send the team through the old subway tunnel under Route 5 — less exposure."
Sarah tapped the table, highlighting a sector. "I'll prep the mission briefing. But there's something else we need to consider — if this works, if the Breaker performs as well in combat as it did in the test yard, it won't just be a weapon. It'll be a shift in doctrine. Our troops will start relying on it."
Sico looked at her. "And that's why it has to stay rare. Controlled."
Sarah nodded, understanding. "One per squad at most. Treat it like a sniper rifle, not a standard issue. Precision, not saturation."
"Exactly," Sico said. "This isn't about numbers. It's about psychological warfare. The Brotherhood needs to see that their armor isn't invincible anymore. The first time one of their Paladins goes down from a single shot, it'll echo through their ranks like fear."
Preston gave a short, grim laugh. "Fear spreads faster than fire."
Sico's gaze didn't waver. "Good. Let it burn through them."
For a moment, no one spoke. The quiet in the HQ was heavier now — the kind that follows the outline of a plan that feels too real, too close. The weight of it pressed down on all three of them in different ways: for Sico, it was duty; for Sarah, the calculus of command; for Preston, the thrill of the fight to come.
Finally, Sarah broke the silence. "Alright," she said, her tone firm. "We'll draft the operational charter for the Breaker Division. I'll have Robert and MacCready report in tomorrow morning for reassignment. I'll also coordinate with logistics to set aside supplies and training grounds at the northern range."
Preston nodded, already taking notes on his datapad. "I'll handle personnel transfers and secure quarters for the new unit. No one outside of our inner circle will know their real function."
Sico gave them both a small, approving nod. "Good. Keep it quiet. When the time comes, I want the Breaker Division ready to move at my signal — not a minute sooner."
Sarah straightened. "Understood."
Preston smirked slightly. "Looks like we're building our own thunder, huh?"
Sico allowed himself the faintest smile — one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's just make sure we know where it strikes."
The hum of the holo-table filled the quiet between them — a low, steady sound that seemed to carry the weight of every decision they had ever made inside that room. The map still glowed faint blue across their faces, the Brotherhood patrol markers pulsing faintly like red embers in the dark. Outside, the wind brushed against the outer shutters of the HQ, the night thick and still, as though the world itself was listening.
Sico stood there for a long moment, gaze fixed on the map but mind already moving beyond it — past the markers, past the coordinates, into the space where plans became people. He could see their faces in his head: men and women who had bled for this Republic, who had fought from ruin and dust to build something worth protecting. And now he was about to ask them to walk into a new kind of war — one fought not with numbers, but with silence and precision.
He turned toward Sarah and Preston, his voice calm but firm.
"Call Robert and MacCready," he said. "Now."
Sarah blinked once, registering the shift in his tone. "Tonight?"
"Yes," Sico said simply. "They need to hear it from me — and from you. No message, no delegation. Face to face."
Preston set his mug down on the table with a muted clink. "You're bringing them in on the Breaker project?"
"I am," Sico said. "But only them. No one else. They'll handle the recruitment for the new division themselves."
Sarah's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "You trust them to pick the men?"
Sico nodded once. "They're Commandos. They've led their squads through the worst of the frontier — the radiation storms, the ambushes, the dead zones. They know who can handle pressure and who can't. If we're going to build a division that carries the Breaker, I want it filled with people they trust. Soldiers who won't flinch, won't question, won't talk."
Preston leaned forward, arms braced on the table. "That's a small pool. The Commandos are tight-knit, but they're not many."
"That's fine," Sico said. "We don't need many. We need the right ones."
There was something about the way he said it — a quiet conviction, not loud or dramatic, but heavy with certainty. Preston and Sarah exchanged a brief glance, both of them recognizing that tone. It was the same voice Sico had used before the Battle of Quincy, before the first Freemason strike against the Institute — that low steadiness that meant the course had been set.
Sarah turned to the communications officer at the side of the room, a young lieutenant who had been pretending not to listen. "Get me Captain Robert and Lieutenant MacCready. Secure channel only."
"Yes, ma'am," the officer said quickly, fingers flying over the terminal.
The holo-table flickered as two new feeds began to form — interference first, static curling around faint outlines before the signal stabilized. Then, one by one, the faces came into view.
Robert appeared first. "Commander. Colonel." His nod was short, respectful. "Didn't expect a call this late. Something happened?"
The second feed sharpened into focus beside him — MacCready. The faint smirk he wore didn't hide the tiredness around his eyes, the kind of fatigue that came from too many missions run too close to death.
"Evening, Commander," he said, voice carrying that familiar drawl of cynicism. "Or is it morning already? Hard to tell these days."
"Still evening," Sico replied. "Though not for long."
Both men straightened slightly. They could hear it in his voice — that quiet gravity that said this wasn't just a status update.
Sarah dimmed the lights slightly, the holo-map adjusting to highlight the Commandos' territories and patrol routes. Preston crossed his arms, watching both feeds carefully as Sico stepped closer to the table.
"I'll get straight to it," Sico began. "We've developed something new. A weapon — experimental, powerful, and dangerous if it ends up in the wrong hands. We're calling it the Breaker."
The word hung for a moment, and even through the digital haze of the projection, Robert's brow furrowed. MacCready tilted his head slightly, the name already sparking curiosity.
"Breaker?" Robert echoed. "That's a hell of a name."
"It fits," Preston said. "You'd agree if you'd seen what it did to Brotherhood armor."
MacCready let out a low whistle. "You mean to tell me you've got something that can crack a Paladin suit?"
"Not just crack," Sarah said. "Melt through it like ice under a torch."
That got their full attention. Even Robert, usually stone-faced, leaned forward. "No kidding."
Sico's tone stayed steady. "It's the real deal. But that's exactly why we're not spreading it around. The fewer who know, the safer we are. For now, only Mel's lab, this room, and the two of you are aware of its existence."
MacCready's expression sobered, his usual sarcasm dropping away. "So you're trusting us with a ghost project."
"I'm trusting you with the future of the Republic," Sico said evenly. "We're forming a new division — small, focused, and independent from the regular army structure. Its only purpose will be to operate and field the Breaker. You two will lead recruitment directly. No middlemen, no outside selection boards."
Robert nodded slowly, processing. "You want us to build this division ourselves."
"Yes," Sico said. "You know your people. You know who's loyal, who's disciplined, who keeps their mouth shut. This can't be a regular assignment. It has to be built on trust."
Sarah stepped closer, her presence sharp beside Sico's calm. "Think of it as a knife, not a hammer. The Brotherhood's army is armor and power — brute force. We'll use precision. The Breaker Division will strike where it matters most — power cores, command relays, armor columns. In and out before they even know what hit them."
MacCready smirked faintly, the edge of the old mercenary humor flickering back for a moment. "So basically, we get to play ghost hunters — except the ghosts are walking tanks."
Preston chuckled softly. "That's one way to put it."
Robert, however, stayed quiet, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "What's our manpower limit?"
"Two squads to start," Sico said. "No more than twelve operatives each. Fully integrated with recon, tech support, and field engineers from Mel's team once we finalize the weapon interface. I want quality over quantity."
Robert nodded. "And the chain of command?"
"You answer directly to me," Sico said. "No one else. Mission details, loadouts, movement orders — all classified under Project Thunderline. Everything goes through secure relay only."
The captain gave a curt nod. "Understood."
MacCready leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You know, Commander, if this thing's as powerful as you're saying, it's gonna change more than just tactics. Men start carrying that kind of firepower, they'll start feeling untouchable. We'll need to keep them grounded — make sure they understand the responsibility that comes with it."
Sico met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "That's exactly why I called you, MacCready. I know you've seen what happens when power goes unchecked. I need someone who can teach restraint as well as accuracy."
MacCready's smirk faded into something smaller — something almost respectful. "Fair enough. Guess I'm your guy then."
Sico turned to Robert. "And I need someone who understands structure — the discipline that keeps men from losing themselves to the rush. You've commanded long enough to know what that line looks like."
Robert gave a small nod. "You'll have it. I'll start picking names by morning."
Sarah tapped the map again, highlighting a small section near the northern range. "We'll relocate you there. It's isolated, defensible, and already has half the infrastructure you'll need. We'll reassign the current garrison and convert it into your training ground. Equipment, quarters, armory — all off the grid."
Preston added, "You'll both get clearance keys for material requisition. Anything you need, you go through Hancock's supply network. Don't request it through normal channels."
Robert smirked faintly. "Backdoor logistics. Haven't done that in a while."
"It's cleaner that way," Sarah said. "Less paperwork, fewer eyes."
There was a short silence as everyone absorbed the scope of what was being set into motion. It wasn't just a new unit — it was a shadow army being born in the quiet corners of the Republic, invisible to everyone but those in that room.
Finally, Sico spoke again. "You'll also brief your men personally. No written orders, no data logs. Word of mouth only until we've confirmed operational readiness. Mel will send you a simplified training rig for the Breaker once he's done recalibrating the coils. Treat it like a live weapon even during drills."
Robert's gaze flicked up to the Commander. "What about engagement protocols? When do we deploy?"
Sico looked at him, then at MacCready. "When I say so. Until then, you train. You build discipline. You make sure every man in that division understands what he's carrying — and what it means if it falls into the wrong hands."
MacCready gave a short nod, serious now. "Got it. You can count on us."
The two feeds stayed open a moment longer — just enough for Sico to see both of their faces clearly. Men forged by war, by loss, by survival. He trusted them not because they were perfect soldiers, but because they were human — men who'd already made peace with the kind of sacrifices the world demanded.
"Then get to work," Sico said quietly. "And keep it silent. Not a whisper leaves your ranks. The Republic's future depends on this."
Robert gave a sharp salute. "Understood, Commander."
MacCready followed suit, though with his usual rough-edged grin. "Guess we're about to make history again."
The feeds blinked out. The room fell silent.
For a long moment, Sico just stood there, the glow of the map washing pale light over his armor. Sarah and Preston watched him quietly, neither speaking.
Finally, he exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "That's one step done."
Preston nodded. "You think they'll keep it quiet?"
"They will," Sico said. "They know what's at stake." He looked down at the map again, at the lines of blue and red slowly inching toward one another like opposing tides. "And when the Brotherhood makes its move, the Breaker Division will be ready to answer."
Sarah's voice was softer now, but firm. "You really believe this will change the balance?"
Sico looked up, meeting her gaze. "No," he said after a moment. "It won't change the balance. It'll redefine it."
He reached for his gloves, sliding them back on with that measured precision he always carried before battle — a ritual of sorts, something grounding.
"Let Robert and MacCready do what they do best," he said quietly. "Build the kind of soldiers this world doesn't see coming. We've played defense long enough."
Preston cracked a small grin. "About damn time."
Sarah gave a small nod, her eyes flicking back to the holo-map. "Then we move forward."
Sico looked at her, then at the glowing projection of the Commonwealth — the land they'd rebuilt, the home they were fighting to keep.
"Yes," he said softly. "Forward."
The lights dimmed further as the holo-map powered down, leaving only the faint hum of the generators in the background. Outside, the wind had picked up again, brushing against the metal siding of the HQ. Somewhere far beyond the compound walls, thunder rolled — distant, low, but unmistakable.
________________________________________________
• 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:-