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The mess hall doors swung behind them as they stepped back into the sunlight. Sturges carried a heavy toolkit in one hand and a portable meter in the other, grumbling about how he should've brought a bigger bag but also insisting he could fix anything with the tools he had on him as they walk together toward the hospital.
The next day, the sun had barely crested the horizon when Sico stepped into the science building, the morning light falling across the cracked concrete floors and casting long, lean shadows through the tall, narrow windows. The building smelled faintly of metal polish and antiseptic, the combination somehow comforting and clinical at the same time. It carried the same quiet energy that always seemed to linger around work that mattered, the kind that hummed softly in the background of serious research and quiet discovery.
He moved through the corridors slowly, boots clicking against the polished linoleum, scanning the rooms as he passed. Most of them were empty as offices for research assistants, storage for instruments, shelves lined with chemical reagents, pre-war schematics, and stacks of dusty holotapes. Each step he took felt deliberate, measured, the weight of purpose pressing against his chest, not suffocating, but grounding him. Today wasn't about inspiration or hope; today was about oversight and understanding.
The door to Virgil's lab loomed at the far end of the corridor. Sico had known the man long enough to know the rhythm of his days. Virgil was always hunched over his workbench or crouched behind stacks of equipment, always muttering to himself in that slow, careful cadence that betrayed his once-obsessed mind, now softened by time but never tamed. And yet the lab had a new energy to it recently. Since Virgil had returned fully to human form months ago, there was a steadiness in his movements, a precision that hadn't been there when he was still struggling with his partial transformation.
Sico pushed the door open quietly.
Virgil had his back to him. He leaned over a cluttered table covered with vials, charts, and several open holotapes, scribbling formulas in the margins of a notebook with the meticulous care of someone who knew a single error could ruin days or maybe weeks of work. The lab smelled faintly of ozone, disinfectant, and something acrid and metallic that Sico recognized instantly: the tang of FEV samples. And there, in a reinforced cage to the side of the room, a super mutant lay hunched on the ground, muscles twitching weakly, letting out a low, gravelly growl that echoed faintly off the walls. Its eyes, dull but aware, flicked toward Sico for a brief moment before returning to some internal thought, some lost world beyond the bars.
Sico cleared his throat gently.
"Virgil."
The scientist froze mid-gesture, hand hovering over a vial of dark liquid, then slowly turned around. His face, still carrying the gentle gauntness of a man who had endured isolation and obsession, softened when he saw Sico.
"Ah… Sico," Virgil said quietly, his voice almost hesitant. "You are early today."
"I could say the same to you," Sico replied. His eyes flicked briefly to the mutant in the cage. "And this one… looks… uncomfortable."
Virgil sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yes. It is… a necessary discomfort. The subject is stable, but we cannot underestimate the strain. Weak, but alive. The effects of FEV reversal trials are… inconsistent."
Sico stepped closer, observing the cage with cautious attention. The mutant shifted slightly, growling again, but there was no aggression but more of confusion, frustration. Its body seemed to strain against something it couldn't quite name. Sico looked at Virgil and nodded slowly.
"And your research," Sico said, gesturing to the vials and charts across the table. "How is it progressing? The FEV?"
Virgil paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted his glasses. "I… have achieved a breakthrough," he admitted. "Significant, though not complete. I can partially reverse the FEV infection, restoring some subjects closer to human form. But the perfect serum… the perfect formula… it remains elusive. I need more time."
Sico nodded slowly, letting the words settle. "Partially reverse… meaning the process works, but inconsistently?"
"Yes," Virgil confirmed. "Some subjects regain clarity and human physiology partially. Others… stabilize physically but remain mentally altered, or regress unpredictably. The process is delicate, chaotic even. One miscalculation, one untested variable… and the consequences are irreversible."
Sico's eyes moved back to the mutant, crouched low, growling weakly at the world beyond its bars. "And this one… you think it'll make it?"
Virgil hesitated before answering, his voice low. "Perhaps. The cellular markers indicate potential. But I cannot be certain until the next cycle. The body's response is… unpredictable." He paused, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. "Even with the breakthrough, it is a slow process. And the serum must be tested carefully. One misstep, and…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "…one misstep, and the subject could die."
Sico remained quiet for a moment, letting the weight of that hang in the lab. The air between them thickened with the faint scent of chemicals, the low hum of incubators, and the subtle tension of a cage's barred metal.
"And," Sico finally asked, lowering his voice slightly, "how about… the strain in the FEV that could be used to produce… superhuman abilities?"
Virgil's expression darkened slightly. His hands moved automatically, adjusting some dials on a nearby apparatus, though his gaze never left Sico. "That," he said carefully, "is… much more complicated."
Sico waited, silently, letting the words form.
"If I cannot perfect the Anti-FEV serum," Virgil continued, "then it is… impossible to isolate or manipulate a strain for other purposes. The variables are too intertwined, the genetic mutations too unstable. To create a superhuman from FEV, we would first need a serum capable of restoring baseline humanity to all subjects. Without that, any attempt to engineer… enhancements… would be catastrophic."
Sico let the statement settle, nodding slowly. He could see the mental map of Virgil's calculations forming behind his eyes with the years of trial, the painstaking observations, the balance between desperation and patience.
"So," Sico said carefully, "you're saying that before we even think about… that… we need to perfect the Anti-FEV serum. Only then can we attempt to identify or stabilize the superhuman strain."
Virgil nodded. "Precisely. Attempting otherwise would be reckless, and… cruel. The serum, the cure, must come first. Anything else is speculation."
Sico's gaze returned to the caged mutant. It was small, weak, and wary that far from the monstrosities some raiders or scientists had tried to create recklessly. And yet he could sense potential in it. Potential not just for survival, but for redemption. For transformation. For a future that didn't end in pain.
"Do you have any leads?" he asked, turning to Virgil. "Any… clues that might accelerate this process?"
Virgil rubbed his jaw. "Some preliminary sequences. Some markers that suggest partial reversal pathways. But these are… fragmentary. I can only test them sequentially, carefully. Too fast, and the cell mutations become unstable. Too slow, and the subjects' bodies begin to deteriorate further. Timing is… everything."
Sico leaned against a nearby table, letting the hum of machinery fill the space between words. "You have time," he said finally. "Resources. The Republic can provide what you need. Guards, supplies… anything. Just… be careful. Every subject matters. Every test matters. We cannot afford mistakes."
Virgil's hands stilled over a stack of vials, and he let out a low sigh. "I know," he whispered. "And I… I will not fail. I have already come too far to falter now. But it is delicate, and… exhausting."
Sico's gaze drifted to the charts on the wall, diagrams of genetic markers, sequences of FEV mutations, and notes in Virgil's meticulous handwriting. Each line represented hours of calculation, observation, and repetition. He could feel the weight of it pressing down, the quiet urgency that permeated every corner of the lab.
"Then," Sico said quietly, "take the time you need. But keep me informed. Every breakthrough, every setback. Nothing gets hidden."
Virgil nodded, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself a faint smile. "Yes. I will. You have my word."
Sico's attention returned to the mutant. It stirred slightly, shifting in the cage, eyes following him with a combination of wariness and something almost… human. For a fleeting moment, Sico imagined what it would be like if Virgil succeeded and not just curing this one, but restoring countless others to themselves. A future where they could walk freely among humanity again, whole and unbroken.
Sico's eyes lingered on the mutant a little longer before he turned back to Virgil, letting the quiet hum of the lab fill the brief pause. The creature in the cage shifted again, weak limbs jerking involuntarily, a low, rumbling growl escaping its throat, the sound half-animal, half-human. There was a strange weight in the room now, the tension of possibility pressing against the air.
"How long, Virgil?" Sico asked finally, voice low but edged with a kind of urgency that made the question linger like a physical thing between them. "How long will it take you to find the perfect serum? The one that fully restores… humanity?"
Virgil straightened, brushing his hands over the table as if he could smooth the answer into being. He looked at Sico, at the weight in his eyes, and sighed.
"I cannot give you a precise answer," Virgil said quietly, almost reluctantly. "Perhaps weeks… perhaps months… perhaps years. The science is… unforgiving. Every experiment, every trial requires patience, precision. One miscalculation and the entire formula could be rendered useless." He paused, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I can promise only that I will work. Tirelessly. Relentlessly. Until I succeed."
Sico let that hang for a moment, the reality settling like a cold weight on his shoulders. Weeks, months, years. Time was a luxury he could scarcely afford, especially with what was coming. The Brotherhood was a storm looming on the horizon, a force growing in strength and coordination. When they struck, it wouldn't just be raiders or super mutants; it would be organized, relentless, and merciless.
"We will need more than just recovery, Virgil," Sico said carefully, letting his gaze sweep the lab, lingering on the tools, the vials, the charts that represented months of painstaking work. "We will need soldiers, super soldiers. Ones who can endure. Ones who can turn the tide. And without the perfect serum… without control… we cannot create them."
Virgil's eyes narrowed slightly, the shadow of thought passing across his face. "Super soldiers…" he muttered, almost to himself. "You speak of engineering strength, endurance, resilience… enhanced abilities. But as I said, until the Anti-FEV serum is perfected, any attempt at… enhancement would be reckless. Unstable. Catastrophic."
Sico stepped closer, letting his gaze meet Virgil's directly. "I know the risks. I know. But time is not on our side. The Brotherhood will not wait for us to perfect… science. They will strike when they are ready. And when they do, we need something more than ordinary soldiers. We need warriors who can fight, survive, and change the outcome."
Virgil's hands stilled on the table. His face, pale and gaunt with hours of concentration, reflected the weight of Sico's words. "I understand what you mean," he said slowly. "But science does not bend to urgency. We cannot force the process. Every mutation, every correction… must be precise. Otherwise, we risk creating monsters, not soldiers. We risk death."
Sico let out a long breath, watching the mutant shift in its cage again. Its eyes followed them briefly, dark pools of confusion and latent humanity. It was an unsettling reminder of what was at stake. "I know," he said quietly. "I know the dangers. But I also know what happens if we fail to act. If the Brotherhood strikes first, the lives lost will be more than just one or two subjects in a lab. Entire settlements could fall. Entire families wiped out. We cannot gamble with hesitation."
Virgil rubbed his jaw and looked down at his notes. "Weeks… months… years," he repeated quietly. "Even if I work tirelessly, even if I pour every resource into this project… the perfect serum may not come quickly. And until it does, any attempt at enhancement is… impossible."
Sico nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. He understood the truth in Virgil's words. There was no shortcut, no magic solution. But still… the urgency gnawed at him. Every day, every passing hour, the Brotherhood gained strength. Every delay risked the Republic's future.
"Then we do what we can," Sico said finally. "We focus on the serum first. Anti-FEV. Full restoration. No shortcuts. But I need you to start thinking… carefully… about the next step. Once the serum is perfected, the strain, the potential… everything. I need a plan ready. So that when the moment comes, we can act immediately."
Virgil nodded, but his expression carried the weight of months, even years, of laborious thought. "I understand. And I will prepare. But first… the cure. Without it, there can be no enhancement."
Sico turned back to the mutant. Its shoulders twitched as it tried to lift its massive head, a guttural sound escaping from its throat. It looked fragile, yet there was an unmistakable strength in the movement, a muscle memory of its past, a hint of what it might become with proper intervention.
"You'll see it," Sico said quietly, almost to himself, "fully human again. All of them. You just have to find the way first."
Virgil's gaze softened, almost reluctantly, as he followed Sico's line of sight. "I… hope you are right."
The silence that followed was not empty. It was filled with the faint hum of incubators, the ticking of clocks, and the muted growl of the caged mutant. It was the sound of work waiting to be done, of hours stretching into days, of science pushing against the constraints of time.
Sico moved closer to the table, studying the charts and notes with a careful eye. "Tell me about your last trial," he asked gently. "What went wrong? What succeeded?"
Virgil rubbed his temples and exhaled. "The last trial… was promising. The cellular markers indicated partial restoration. Cognitive function improved slightly. But the subject's immune response was unstable. The cells rejected the serum after twenty-four hours, leading to severe physiological stress. We must find a stabilizing agent, something to ensure the serum's effects endure."
Sico nodded. "And once you find it… you'll be able to apply it to multiple subjects?"
"In theory," Virgil replied cautiously. "In theory, yes. But until we perfect the formulation, we cannot risk testing on more than a single subject at a time. Each trial must be controlled. Precise. Any error could be fatal."
Sico's gaze returned to the mutant. Its eyes followed him, dark and uncertain, flicking briefly to Virgil and back again. There was a strange familiarity in that gaze, a silent acknowledgment of its own potential for change. It made the stakes feel immediate, personal.
"Then we begin," Sico said finally. "Careful, controlled. One step at a time. But I need you to keep in mind the future, the super soldiers. When the serum works, when the reversal is complete… that's when we start planning. I need a path forward."
Virgil nodded, shoulders straightening with renewed determination. "I understand. I will not fail. And when the serum is perfected… then we will have a foundation for the rest."
Sico exhaled, feeling the weight in his chest ease slightly. It was still heavy with the pressure of what was to come, the knowledge that time was short, the urgency of the war against the Brotherhood but there was a rhythm here, a plan taking shape.
He glanced around the lab, noting the careful organization of vials, the meticulous notes, the caged mutant's tentative movements. "Good," he said finally. "We keep moving forward. Nothing hidden, nothing rushed. We build slowly, deliberately. And we make sure that when the moment comes, we're ready."
Virgil allowed himself a faint smile. "Yes. Slowly, deliberately. That is the way of science. That is the way we succeed."
Sico nodded once more. "Then I will check in regularly. And I will ensure you have everything you need. Resources, guards… whatever it takes. But remember, Virgil as the faster the serum, the faster we can prepare for what's coming."
The scientist's eyes met his, steady, thoughtful, carrying the weight of a man who had lived through isolation, obsession, and transformation. "I will work tirelessly," he said quietly. "Weeks… months… years. It does not matter. I will see this through."
Sico give a nod and said. "That's all I ask."
The lab was quiet, save for the faint hum of machinery and the muted growl of the mutant in its cage. Sico was turning to leave, giving Virgil space to work, when a sudden shudder ran through the creature's massive frame.
It was subtle at first with a twitch of the shoulders, a jerk of the head but then it intensified, becoming violent and erratic. The mutant doubled over, claws scraping against the metal bars, and a wet, guttural cough tore from deep within its chest. Sico's eyes snapped back toward the cage.
"Virgil!" he called sharply, his voice slicing through the low hum of the lab. "What's happening?!"
The scientist's face twisted into alarm. "It's… I don't understand yet!" Virgil's hands moved with practiced urgency, grabbing a small vial from a tray lined with carefully labeled specimens. He shook it once, checking its clarity, then drew a syringe with deliberate speed.
Sico watched as Virgil approached the cage, eyes locked on the mutant as its trembling grew worse. The creature's head hung low, shoulders quaking, and then, horrifyingly, a thin stream of dark, coppery blood escaped its mouth. Its growls became weak, almost pained, a haunting mixture of confusion and agony.
"Steady," Virgil muttered to himself, not breaking his focus for a second. He carefully moved the syringe through the bars, aiming for a vein in the mutant's massive, sinewy arm. "This should stabilize… should buy us a few minutes—"
Sico's heart pounded in his chest. "Virgil, what is it? What are you injecting?!"
Virgil didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the mutant, adjusting the angle of the needle with painstaking care. "A stabilizer serum," he finally said, voice tense, almost a whisper. "I created it… to help subjects withstand sudden cellular stress during transformation or reversal processes. It's designed to strengthen weak physiology against the strain of FEV alteration."
Sico's jaw tightened. "Is it strong enough?"
Virgil hesitated, the faintest flicker of doubt crossing his otherwise resolute face. "It should… it might… I hoped it would…"
Before he could finish, the mutant convulsed violently. Its chest heaved with another guttural cough, and a second, more forceful stream of blood gushed from its mouth. The stabilizer, carefully calculated and delicately administered, did not take hold.
Sico's stomach twisted as he saw Virgil's movements falter. The scientist's hand trembled slightly as he tried to push more serum into the creature's veins, but it was too late. The mutant's massive body slumped forward, tilting to the side, and its growls faltered into a weak gurgle before silence claimed the cage.
Sico froze. The air seemed to constrict around him, heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of chemicals. He could feel the weight of failure pressing down, a physical ache that seemed to settle in his chest.
Virgil dropped the syringe, his hands shaking slightly. He stared at the fallen mutant, mouth opening and closing as though searching for words. After a long, tense moment, he finally spoke. His voice was quiet, almost resigned, threaded with exhaustion and guilt.
"Another failure," he said simply.
Sico's eyes narrowed, a storm of frustration, sorrow, and anger swirling within him. "What did you inject? Tell me what it was!" His voice was sharp, but not accusatory but it was edged with urgency, with the need to understand, to prevent this from happening again.
Virgil ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "A stabilizer serum," he repeated, this time slower, as if speaking aloud might solidify the truth. "I designed it to help the changing process… to support the subject's physiology as it adjusts to modifications, to reinforce cellular stability. It is… it is not strong enough. It cannot counteract the strength, the aggression of FEV in its current state. It should have helped… but it wasn't sufficient."
Sico's gaze drifted back to the cage, now silent and still, the mutant's massive form sprawled across the metal floor. His chest tightened, a heavy, hollow sensation spreading through him. He could feel the weight of the lost potential, of the chance that had slipped through their fingers, almost as if the air itself carried the echo of the creature's failed struggle.
"Damn it," Sico muttered, the single word carrying months of tension, strategy, and preparation. "It was supposed to work. We needed it to work."
Virgil's hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white. His entire body seemed tense, coiled with frustration and self-reproach. "I know. I know. I… I miscalculated. I thought it would stabilize the mutation, at least temporarily, but the FEV… it is stronger than anticipated. Its influence is… persistent. Dominant. I underestimated the complexity."
Sico turned fully to him, his voice calmer now, though heavy with the same intensity. "How long until we understand why it failed completely? Can we adjust it? Can we—" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. He knew there was no magic fix, no instant solution in a lab filled with fragile chemicals, volatile formulas, and human or once human subjects.
Virgil ran a hand down his face, shoulders slumping as the weight of the loss pressed down. "I can analyze the cellular breakdown," he said finally, voice low, almost hoarse. "I can identify what went wrong, what part of the stabilizer failed to counteract the FEV strain. But it will take time… hours, perhaps days. And even then, I cannot guarantee success on the next attempt. The virus… the mutation… it is resilient. It adapts. It resists."
Sico nodded slowly, swallowing hard. The lesson was harsh, the truth unavoidable: this was a war against nature itself, against a force that had been engineered to survive, to dominate, to endure. They were not just racing the Brotherhood; they were racing biology itself.
"And every subject we lose," Sico said quietly, voice steady despite the tension, "it reminds us how high the stakes are. We cannot afford recklessness, Virgil. Every vial, every injection, every trial… it matters."
Virgil's gaze met Sico's, a mixture of fatigue, frustration, and determination in his eyes. "I understand," he whispered. "I… I failed this one. But I will not fail again. I will refine the stabilizer. I will study the reaction, adjust the formula, and try again. We… I… cannot let the FEV win."
Sico took a slow step toward the cage, looking at the still form of the mutant. He could see the faintest hints of humanity in its features, traces of the life it had once lived, and the tragic reminder of the dangers inherent in their work. His jaw tightened. They had to succeed. For every mutant, for every settlement, for every life that depended on the Republic's preparedness.
"Then we do it again," Sico said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of command without needing to raise it. "Careful. Controlled. No shortcuts. We learn from this. And we prepare the serum until it works… until it restores. Not just partially, not just temporarily. Fully."
Virgil's lips pressed together, a faint nod acknowledging the mandate, the responsibility. He moved toward the table, already beginning to organize his notes and vials, cataloging the failed attempt with methodical precision. "I will document everything," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Cellular response, immune suppression, metabolic stress… all of it. And then… then we begin again."
Sico's gaze lingered on him, feeling the intensity of Virgil's determination, the fragile hope threading through his exhaustion. "We'll get there," Sico said softly. "I know we will. It will take time… weeks, months… maybe longer. But we will succeed. And when we do, we'll have what we need. For the soldiers. For the Republic. For everyone who depends on this work."
Virgil's eyes met his, the faintest spark of hope flickering amidst the weight of failure. "Yes," he whispered. "We will succeed. And when the serum is perfected… the next step can begin. Super soldiers… enhanced humanity… controlled, deliberate… precise. But first, we must master the cure."
The lab was silent in the aftermath, heavy with the smell of antiseptic and the sharp metallic tang that lingered after the mutant's last, violent struggle. Sico remained still for a moment, letting the weight of the loss settle, letting the quiet hum of the machinery and the distant tick of a wall-mounted clock fill the oppressive silence. Even now, the caged mutant, once a hulking presence, lay motionless which a reminder of both the fragility and resilience of the work they were undertaking.
Sico finally moved, stepping closer to Virgil, who was still hunched over the table, scribbling notes, cataloging blood samples, and checking his vials with precise movements, as if recording every failed heartbeat could somehow compensate for the tragedy that had just unfolded.
"Virgil," Sico said softly, letting his voice cut through the tension but remain steady, deliberate. "Good. Good that you've cataloged everything. That's… important. That's how we move forward." He paused, letting the words hang in the air between them, heavy but measured. "And listen. If there's any future breakthrough… anything at all, no matter how small, I want you to report it directly to me. Every detail, every observation, no matter how tentative it seems. I need to know what's happening in real-time."
Virgil looked up from his work, eyes meeting Sico's, carrying that familiar mix of exhaustion, determination, and quiet desperation that had become almost permanent in recent months. "I… I understand," he said, voice low but firm. "I will keep detailed logs, send updates as often as possible, and I will not withhold anything. Nothing will be hidden from you."
Sico nodded once, satisfied, though the faint crease between his brows suggested the weight of responsibility he carried. "Good. And Virgil… if you need more resources, more budget for supplies, for equipment, I can forward it directly to Magnolia. She'll approve whatever you need. You won't be limited by bureaucracy. But I want you to think carefully about the budget before requesting anything. Every resource we allocate comes with a cost. Every request draws on other projects."
Virgil's hands stilled over a cluster of vials. He looked at Sico for a long moment, his gaze drifting to the caged mutant lying lifeless on the floor. "I will," he said finally, voice measured. "I've been careful so far, but… yes, I understand the need for caution with resources. Every vial, every reagent… it matters. I will plan accordingly. No waste."
Sico exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders drop slightly as the tension in his chest eased a fraction. "Good. I want you to prioritize the research that directly affects the serum, the stabilizer, the process of full reversal first. That's non-negotiable. But beyond that, think strategically. How much do we invest here, how much do we wait, and how much do we allocate elsewhere. Curie, for example, has begun her own project that focused on medical supplies, starting with Rad-X. That will be critical for us if the Brotherhood tries to poison or irradiate settlements during their assaults."
Virgil nodded, though his mind seemed to be processing multiple threads at once with formulas, vials, reaction times, cellular pathways, and now, resource allocation. "Curie…" he repeated, almost to himself. "Rad-X. Yes, I've reviewed her preliminary notes. She's approaching it systematically, much like I approach the serum. It will be a valuable adjunct… especially if the FEV experiments cause unforeseen contamination or exposure."
Sico let a slow breath pass through him. "Exactly. But we need to coordinate. I want you to think about your expenditures, your reagents, your trials… and consider the bigger picture. Resources aren't infinite. But I'll make sure Magnolia clears the path for you if there's something that truly requires acceleration. I just want you to be mindful. Curie's work is critical too, and we need both projects running simultaneously without compromising one another."
Virgil adjusted his glasses, leaning back slightly in his chair as though the weight of the discussion pressed against him more heavily than the physical strain of his lab work. "I see… I need to balance progress on the serum with fiscal responsibility, while also anticipating the broader needs of the Republic's medical preparedness. Understood. I… will factor that into every decision."
Sico stepped closer to the table, lowering his voice, letting the intimacy of the conversation reflect the trust and expectation he placed on Virgil. "Virgil, I need to trust you implicitly. I know you're exhausted, I know you've been pushing yourself to the limit, but the moment we falter, even slightly, it could cost lives. Not just the subjects in your lab… but people out there, people depending on us to be ready."
Virgil's hands, still resting lightly on the table, curled slightly into fists. "I… I will not fail, Sico. I… I can't afford to fail again. Not after this." His eyes flicked briefly to the lifeless form in the cage, then back to Sico. "Each failure… each setback… it teaches me something. I catalog every anomaly, every reaction, every unintended response. That is progress, even in loss."
Sico exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the words, the sobering truth that even in their failures, knowledge could be salvaged, repurposed, refined. "I know. And that's why I rely on you, Virgil. Because even with failure, you extract the lesson. That's what will give us the edge. That's what will give us the soldiers, the readiness, the ability to respond when the Brotherhood comes. And they will come, sooner or later."
Virgil nodded again, the faintest glimmer of determination returning to his eyes. "Yes. And when that happens… when the serum is perfected… I will be ready. And the soldiers… the super soldiers… they will be prepared. Controlled, deliberate… precise. But first, the cure."
Sico stepped back slightly, letting the conversation sink in, letting the reality of the work and the stakes settle into the space between them. "Good. Keep meticulous records. Report breakthroughs immediately. Plan expenditures carefully. Use resources wisely, but don't hesitate to request them if the situation demands it. I'll make sure Magnolia understands the urgency."
Virgil allowed a faint nod, a small gesture of acknowledgment and resolve. "I will. And I will begin analyzing the last trial immediately. Every cellular breakdown, every anomaly… it will inform the next attempt. I will adjust the stabilizer, refine the serum, and prepare the subjects for the next cycle."
Sico's gaze drifted to the shelves of carefully cataloged reagents, the charts of cellular responses pinned to the wall, and the trays of meticulously prepared vials. The quiet rhythm of the lab, the delicate interplay of science and patience, was almost meditative, despite the weight of recent failure. "And Virgil… remember to consider synergy. Curie's work on Rad-X, our medical reserves, every preparation we make… they will complement your work. I want the Republic's medical capabilities and our serum development to advance together. One supports the other. Don't let either operate in isolation."
Virgil's fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table, a subtle rhythm of thought, calculation, and reflection. "Synergy… yes. I will coordinate with Curie. Ensure that my research doesn't conflict with her resource needs, and that her progress can inform mine, just as my work can reinforce hers. Strategic integration… understood."
Sico let a slow breath pass through him, the tension in his chest loosening fractionally. "That's what I needed to hear. It's not just the serum or the stabilizer. It's the bigger picture that medical readiness, logistical coordination, and strategic foresight. You are the linchpin for this project, Virgil, but you're not alone. We have people supporting you. We have resources. And when breakthroughs happen… we'll act immediately."
Virgil's gaze softened slightly, the faintest flicker of hope threading through the exhaustion in his eyes. "Yes… and I will make sure that no breakthrough goes unnoticed. Every improvement, no matter how small, will be logged and reported. And when the time comes… the soldiers, the enhancements… they will be ready. Controlled, precise, deliberate. But first, the cure. I will perfect it."
Sico's eyes returned to the empty cage, the lifeless form of the failed mutant still lying sprawled across the floor. The lesson of failure was etched into the air, tangible in the metallic tang, the faint scent of antiseptic, the lingering pulse of potential gone awry. He exhaled slowly, letting the weight of it pass through him, letting the loss cement the urgency of their task.
"Then we continue," Sico said finally, voice calm but resolute. "Careful, controlled, deliberate. Every trial matters. Every observation matters. Every resource matters. And Virgil… remember, when the serum is perfected, the next stage will follow immediately. Super soldiers, strategic enhancement… all of it. But we do not rush. We do not compromise. We build it right."
Virgil's lips pressed together, nodding once. "Yes. I will not compromise. Not on precision, not on safety, not on control. Every step will be deliberate, every trial accounted for. And when the serum is ready… we will have the foundation for everything else."
Sico allowed himself one more look at the lab, the tools, the charts, the remnants of failure, and the hum of potential vibrating through every surface. "Good," he said quietly. "Then let's move forward. Slowly, deliberately, but relentlessly. And Virgil… remember to keep me informed. Every breakthrough, every anomaly, every observation. Nothing hidden. I will ensure you have what you need to succeed. That is all I ask."
Virgil exhaled slowly, a quiet determination settling into his posture. "You have my word," he said. "Weeks, months, years… it does not matter. I will see this through. And when the serum is perfected… then we will begin the next stage. Deliberate. Controlled. Precise."
Sico nodded once more, the weight of responsibility settling alongside a faint, cautious hope. "Then let's get to work."
The lab, once still with loss and quiet despair, seemed to pulse again with purpose. Vials clinked, notes rustled, machinery hummed steadily, and the presence of possibility stretched through every corner of the room. Failure had come and gone, leaving behind lessons, recalibrations, and the unbroken thread of determination.
________________________________________________
• 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:-