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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Distant cliffs vanished beneath fire and debris while shockwaves rolled back across the ocean beneath endless gray clouds as smoke drifted slowly upward from the artillery barrels.
The final artillery echoes rolled away slowly across the island.
Not fading cleanly.
Lingering.
Bouncing through cliffs, forests, ruined towns, and the endless Fog like the island itself was struggling to absorb the sound.
Smoke drifted from all eight batteries in dark ribbons beneath the gray midday sky while crews moved carefully around the cannons checking breeches, stabilizers, recoil braces, and ammunition housings still warm from repeated firing.
The smell of burned propellant hung across Far Harbor now.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Impossible to ignore.
And beneath it all sat something new inside the settlement.
Confidence.
Not comfort.
Nobody on the island would ever mistake confidence for comfort again.
But people stood differently now.
Straighter.
More alert.
Less helpless.
The artillery crews began transmitting operational reports back toward command almost immediately after the final synchronized barrage ended.
Radio operators moved quickly between positions while engineers shouted measurements over static-filled channels.
"Western battery stable after full volley sequence."
"Southern ridge recoil integrity holding."
"Northern observation platform reporting no structural compromise."
"Harbor artillery calibration successful."
The reports kept coming.
One after another.
Clean.
Professional.
Encouraging.
Inside the command hall, Ward listened carefully while the radio operator relayed incoming evaluations across the room.
"No breech failures."
"Hydraulic assemblies functioning normally."
"Targeting drift minimal."
"Reload timing within acceptable range."
Mercer leaned beside the operations table with arms folded while listening to the stream of reports.
"That's better than I expected."
Avery nodded slightly while reviewing ammunition expenditure sheets.
"Much better."
The artillery had survived repeated live-fire testing without catastrophic failures.
On the island, that almost counted as a miracle.
Especially considering most settlements could barely maintain generators consistently, let alone heavy artillery systems.
Sico stood near the map table silently while another radio transmission crackled through the room.
"Engineering report from western battery."
The operator adjusted the signal.
"Go ahead."
Static hissed briefly.
Then Hayes' voice exploded through the speaker with the energy of a man who had discovered enlightenment through explosives.
"I would like it officially documented that these artillery systems are beautiful."
The room went silent for half a second.
Then Alice groaned from near the window.
"Of course that's the first thing he says."
Hayes continued anyway.
"Structural stability exceeds projection margins, recoil management performed flawlessly, thermal stress remained well below critical thresholds, and if anybody touches my calibration settings without permission I will personally bury them in concrete."
Ward pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"Noted."
"Also," Hayes added proudly, "the artillery is combat ready."
That mattered more than the rest.
The operator wrote it down immediately.
Combat ready.
Eight artillery batteries.
Fully operational.
Sico finally nodded once.
"Good."
Simple word.
But it carried weight through the room.
Because now the defensive transformation of Far Harbor had become real.
Not plans.
Not emergency preparation.
Reality.
The settlement could now deliver sustained bombardment across nearly every major approach surrounding the harbor.
And everyone understood what that meant.
The Children of Atom definitely would too.
Outside, civilians had begun moving carefully back into the streets after the firing tests ended.
Carefully being the important word.
Because the artillery demonstrations had shaken people badly.
Not emotionally alone.
Physically.
Windows still rattled occasionally from lingering vibrations. Dock ropes swayed from the concussion impacts. A few loose boards had fallen from older rooftops during the synchronized barrage.
People kept talking about the sound.
Mostly the sound.
A group of fishermen stood near the harbor railings staring toward the western batteries while smoke drifted above the cliffs.
One older man finally shook his head slowly.
"I fought raiders thirty years ago with a hunting rifle and six bullets."
He looked toward the artillery silhouettes.
"Now we've got enough firepower to level half the island."
Nobody nearby disagreed.
A younger dockworker standing beside him rubbed his ears tiredly.
"I thought the tanks were terrifying."
Another answered quietly:
"They are."
Pause.
"…But those guns?"
He glanced toward the cliffs again.
"Those sound like the end of the world."
Children whispered about the artillery constantly now.
Some sounded excited.
Others frightened.
A little girl near the marketplace asked her mother whether the giant cannons could "blow up the Fog itself."
The mother didn't know how to answer.
Truthfully, after hearing eight artillery batteries fire together?
It almost sounded possible.
Far Harbor had never experienced weapons on this scale before.
The settlement historically survived through stubbornness, small arms, harpoons, reinforced docks, and people too angry to die quietly.
Now heavy artillery overlooked every major road.
Machine crews rotated around firing platforms.
Ammunition stockpiles sat beneath reinforced covers guarded by armed patrols.
The harbor looked militarized in a way that changed the emotional atmosphere completely.
Not everyone liked that feeling.
But everyone understood why it existed.
Near the western battery, several civilians had gathered behind the marked safety barriers watching engineers inspect the massive cannon barrels while steam hissed faintly from cooling metal.
One woman stared openly at the artillery crews.
"You really think we'll need all this?"
A nearby defender answered honestly.
"I hope not."
The woman looked toward the distant Fog beyond the cliffs.
"And if we do?"
The defender took a while answering.
Then finally:
"Then I'm glad we built them."
That answer spread through Far Harbor in different forms all afternoon.
People feared the artillery.
But they feared being defenseless more.
Especially after the horde.
Especially after hearing what happened at the Nucleus.
Especially after watching armored convoys disappear into the Fog and return carrying battle damage.
War no longer felt theoretical here.
It felt close enough to smell.
Sico spent most of the afternoon reviewing artillery deployment maps with Ward, Avery, and Mercer inside the command hall while fresh reports continued arriving from across the settlement.
The batteries had performed well.
Better than expected.
But artillery alone didn't solve the larger problem.
Far Harbor itself remained vulnerable.
The walls had improved after the horde attack, but not enough.
Not anymore.
The Children of Atom would adapt.
Sabotage.
Night raids.
Infiltration teams.
Coordinated assaults.
The artillery gave Far Harbor teeth.
Now the settlement needed eyes too.
Sico studied the perimeter maps quietly for several moments before speaking.
"The walls are still weak."
Ward immediately nodded.
"Yes."
Avery pointed toward several sections marked in charcoal.
"Especially western approach sectors. Those barricades weren't built for sustained attacks."
Mercer leaned closer over the map.
"And visibility's terrible at night."
Exactly.
The Fog protected attackers constantly.
That needed to change.
Sico placed one finger near the western gate perimeter.
"Watchtowers here."
Another point farther south.
"And here."
Again.
"Northern cliffs. Eastern approach."
Ward was already writing notes again.
"How many total?"
"Twelve."
Avery looked up sharply.
"Twelve towers?"
"Yes."
Not small towers either.
Permanent structures.
Reinforced.
Elevated.
Designed for overlapping observation coverage.
Mercer understood immediately where this was going.
"Searchlights."
"Yes."
Now Avery understood too.
The room quieted slightly afterward.
Because once again, Sico wasn't thinking defensively in the traditional Far Harbor sense.
He was redesigning the settlement into a fortress network.
Watchtowers equipped with rotating searchlights could cut through sections of Fog during night assaults.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Enough to spot movement earlier.
Enough to direct artillery fire.
Enough to stop enemies from walking directly into the walls unseen.
Ward looked toward the maps thoughtfully.
"And machine gun nests."
"Yes."
Heavy mounted positions near the walls themselves.
Not improvised firing spots.
Dedicated kill zones.
Fields of overlapping fire.
Permanent defensive coverage.
Alice leaned back in her chair near the wall.
"You know this place officially feels insane now, right?"
Nobody answered because she wasn't wrong.
Avery rubbed tired eyes.
"A month ago our biggest concern was Mirelurks chewing through dock supports."
Mercer nodded toward the artillery maps.
"Now we're discussing integrated artillery support and perimeter machine gun emplacements."
Alice exhaled smoke slowly.
"The apocalypse really overachieved."
Despite the exhaustion, a few tired laughs spread through the room again.
Small moments.
Necessary moments.
Then Sico turned serious again.
"The Children of Atom watched our artillery today."
The room quieted immediately.
"They now understand we can strike almost anywhere surrounding Far Harbor."
Ward nodded.
"So they'll avoid predictable assault routes."
"Yes."
Mercer folded his arms tighter.
"Meaning infiltration."
"Or sabotage teams."
Avery looked toward the wall maps.
"They'll try approaching through Fog blind spots."
Exactly.
Which meant visibility mattered now as much as firepower.
Sico pointed toward several elevated terrain points surrounding the harbor.
"Every watchtower receives rotating searchlights."
Ward kept writing.
"Mounted machine guns?"
"Yes."
"Crew rotations?"
"Permanent."
That part settled heavily.
Permanent meant manpower.
Exhaustion.
Constant readiness.
But nobody argued anymore.
The island had crossed too many lines already.
Far Harbor couldn't afford weak nights now.
Outside, construction planning began before the meeting even ended.
Messengers carried orders through the settlement while engineers redirected labor crews from completed artillery positions toward the new wall expansion projects.
The reaction among civilians felt mixed.
Some looked relieved seeing stronger defenses coming together.
Others looked frightened by how fast everything escalated.
One dockworker quietly muttered while watching timber beams get unloaded near the western wall:
"We're building a damn army out here."
An older woman nearby answered without looking up from repairing fishing nets.
"No."
She glanced toward the artillery smoke still drifting above the cliffs.
"We're building something that survives one."
That line spread farther than she probably intended.
By evening, survey crews had already marked the first watchtower positions around the settlement perimeter.
Tall support posts got unloaded from supply carts while welders prepared reinforced anchor plates near the western barricades.
Floodlights illuminated the work areas beneath drifting Fog while soldiers maintained overwatch from sandbag positions nearby.
Nobody worked casually anymore.
Everyone carried rifles close.
The island felt tense tonight.
More tense than before the artillery tests somehow.
Because now Far Harbor understood exactly how much power surrounded it.
And somewhere beyond the Fog…
The Children of Atom had heard everything.
Mercer stood near the northern observation ridge at sunset watching workers measure tower foundations beneath lantern light.
"You think they're moving already?"
Sico stood beside him overlooking the harbor.
"Yes."
Mercer didn't ask how he knew.
Because he knew too.
The Children of Atom wouldn't stay passive after the Nucleus bombardment and artillery demonstration.
Not people like that.
Not fanatics.
Fear transformed groups two ways.
Some collapsed.
Others sharpened.
And the Children of Atom had survived too long on the island to collapse easily.
Below them, the settlement continued changing in real time.
Searchlight equipment got unpacked near the western walls.
Heavy machine gun mounts were dragged through muddy streets toward prepared firing positions overlooking the harbor approaches.
Artillery crews rotated into scheduled readiness shifts.
Patrol groups doubled along internal streets.
Far Harbor no longer resembled an isolated fishing settlement surviving at the edge of civilization.
Now it looked like a military outpost preparing for siege.
Alice joined them eventually carrying two steaming cups of coffee.
Mercer accepted one immediately.
Sico took the other silently.
Alice leaned against the barricade overlooking the harbor.
"You know what's strange?"
Neither man answered immediately.
She gestured toward the artillery smoke drifting above the cliffs.
"I actually feel safer."
Mercer looked sideways at her.
"Even with all this?"
"Yes."
She shrugged faintly.
"Terrified."
Pause.
"But safer."
That probably described half the settlement now.
The defenses frightened people.
But weakness frightened them more.
Far Harbor had spent years reacting to threats.
Now for the first time in a long time…
It looked capable of threatening something back.
Below them, one of the newly installed searchlights suddenly activated during testing.
A powerful beam sliced outward through the Fog from the western wall, illuminating drifting mist, rain residue, and the outer road leading toward the island interior.
Another searchlight powered on moments later farther south.
Then another.
The harbor began glowing beneath crossing beams of pale white light.
Machine gun crews tested mount rotation nearby.
Metal clanked.
Orders echoed through the mist.
The night passed beneath sweeping searchlights and the constant sound of construction.
Not peaceful construction either.
Nothing in Far Harbor sounded peaceful anymore.
Hammers struck reinforced steel long after midnight while welding torches hissed across the walls in bursts of blue-white light that cut through the Fog like lightning trapped behind barricades. Generators rumbled constantly now. Patrol boots echoed through muddy streets. Somewhere every few minutes, somebody shouted measurements, supply requests, or warning calls across the perimeter.
The settlement no longer slept together.
It rested in shifts.
And even then, barely.
Far Harbor had changed too quickly for people not to feel it in their bones.
Only days ago, most residents still measured danger in terms of weather, food shortages, or whatever creature crawled out of the Fog after sunset.
Now there were artillery batteries overlooking the island.
Searchlights rotating across the harbor.
Machine gun nests beside reinforced walls.
Convoys carrying ammunition instead of fish.
The island had stopped feeling distant.
War had dragged it close enough to touch.
Still, despite the exhaustion pressing against everyone, the work continued.
Because nobody wanted to imagine what happened if they stopped.
By dawn the following morning, the Fog hung low and thick again across Far Harbor.
Cold gray mist drifted between rooftops while floodlights slowly dimmed against the growing daylight. The rain had returned overnight in lighter bursts, leaving everything soaked once more. Mud covered nearly every street near the outer walls now, churned endlessly by boots, supply carts, cranes, and heavy equipment hauling reinforcement materials across the settlement.
And above all of it, the first completed watchtower stood fully operational near the western gate.
Tall.
Reinforced.
Ugly in the practical way military structures usually became.
Steel beams anchored deep into concrete foundations while heavy wooden support braces wrapped around the lower frame to help stabilize against coastal winds. Sandbag platforms surrounded the upper firing deck where a mounted machine gun overlooked the western approach roads disappearing into the Fog.
And mounted above everything else, as a rotating searchlight slowly swept across the island roads outside the walls.
Its beam cut through the mist in pale arcs that illuminated trees, rocks, broken highway sections, and drifting Fog for hundreds of meters at a time.
People stopped to stare at it constantly.
Because it looked powerful.
Not symbolic powerful.
Real powerful.
The kind of thing built by people expecting enemies.
Ward climbed the tower ladder just after sunrise while workers below tightened the final support bolts into place.
The machine gun crew stationed at the top looked exhausted already.
One of them nodded toward the searchlight controls.
"Rotation system's stable."
Ward looked across the harbor from the elevated platform.
The view changed everything.
From up here, the settlement suddenly looked smaller.
Vulnerable in some places still.
But connected now.
Artillery positions visible in the distance.
Patrol routes.
Reinforced trenches.
Additional towers under construction farther south.
For the first time since arriving on the island, Far Harbor resembled a place preparing systematically instead of merely surviving desperately.
Ward exhaled slowly while studying the Fog-covered roads.
"You can actually see movement before it reaches the walls now."
The gunner beside him answered quietly.
"That's the idea."
Below the tower, another convoy unloaded heavy machine gun mounts near the southern perimeter while engineering crews prepared the second tower foundation beside the harbor cliffs.
One by one.
That was how the transformation happened.
Not instantly.
Not dramatically.
Piece by piece until suddenly the entire settlement felt different.
Sico moved through the construction zones throughout the morning without stopping long anywhere.
Western wall.
Southern ridge.
Northern observation line.
He checked everything personally.
Support beams.
Fields of fire.
Searchlight rotation coverage.
Patrol spacing.
Avery eventually caught up with him near the eastern barricades where workers reinforced firing slits with salvaged steel plating.
"You've been awake how long now?"
Sico continued studying the wall supports.
"Long enough."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
Avery folded her arms against the cold while watching workers drag ammunition crates toward a nearby machine gun emplacement.
"You know people are starting to notice."
"What?"
"That you never stop moving."
Sico finally looked toward her briefly.
"The island doesn't stop either."
That answer probably would've sounded cold from almost anyone else.
From him?
It just sounded factual.
Avery sighed quietly.
"Fair."
Behind them, the eastern watchtower framework finally rose upright with the help of crane cables and six exhausted workers hauling guide ropes through knee-deep mud.
The entire structure groaned loudly during the lift.
Everybody nearby instinctively stepped back.
Hayes immediately started shouting at people before the tower even settled fully into place.
"Hold the western support line tighter unless your goal is catastrophic collapse!"
One worker yelled back:
"You say that about everything!"
"Because catastrophic collapse keeps trying to happen!"
The tower finally locked into position with a violent metallic clang that echoed across the perimeter.
Several workers actually applauded weakly afterward.
Mostly because nobody died.
Hayes looked personally offended by the applause.
"You don't celebrate surviving basic engineering!"
Alice walked past carrying a toolbox.
"You absolutely do on this island."
The searchlights changed Far Harbor the most during nighttime.
People realized that quickly.
As evening approached again and darkness settled across the harbor beneath thick Fog, the newly operational towers powered on one by one around the settlement perimeter.
Western beam.
Southern beam.
Northern observation beam.
White light sliced through the mist from multiple angles, crossing over roads, cliffs, forests, and shoreline approaches while machine gun crews tracked the illuminated terrain carefully from elevated firing platforms.
For the first time in years, the Fog no longer completely belonged to the island.
Far Harbor had started taking pieces of it back.
That realization spread through the settlement quietly.
You could see it in the way civilians moved now.
Still nervous.
Still cautious.
But less blind.
A fisherman returning late from the docks paused beneath one of the sweeping beams and watched it illuminate the outer road beyond the walls.
"Feels strange," he muttered quietly to nobody in particular.
A nearby patrolman heard him.
"What does?"
The fisherman stared toward the searchlight.
"Seeing farther than twenty feet for once."
The patrolman looked outward too.
"…Yeah."
Children reacted differently.
To them, the searchlights almost looked magical.
Powerful glowing beams cutting through monster-filled Fog while giant artillery cannons overlooked the cliffs like something from old war stories.
Several younger kids had started counting the rotating beams at night from apartment windows.
Others watched machine gun crews change shifts like they were watching heroes from pre-war holotapes.
Adults understood the darker reality better.
But even they couldn't deny the psychological effect the defenses were having.
Far Harbor felt harder to kill now.
That mattered.
Especially after weeks of fear.
Inside the command hall later that evening, new perimeter reports covered nearly the entire operations table.
Tower completion percentages.
Ammunition stockpile updates.
Searchlight fuel reserves.
Patrol assignments.
Artillery readiness rotations.
Mercer leaned over the southern perimeter map while rubbing exhaustion from his eyes.
"We're burning manpower fast."
Ward nodded immediately.
"No argument there."
Because the problem hadn't disappeared.
Stronger defenses required more people.
Permanent watchtower crews.
Searchlight operators.
Machine gun teams.
Maintenance shifts.
Additional patrols.
Far Harbor's military footprint had doubled within days.
Possibly tripled.
Avery reviewed another clipboard nearby.
"We can sustain this short term."
"Long term?" Mercer asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
Because long-term war calculations looked uglier.
Food.
Sleep.
Ammunition consumption.
Mechanical wear.
Morale.
The island punished exhaustion eventually no matter how strong your walls looked.
Sico studied the maps quietly before answering.
"We adapt again when necessary."
Mercer almost smiled faintly.
"That's becoming your answer for everything."
"Yes."
Alice sat near the communications desk cleaning carbon residue from a rifle bolt.
"To be fair," she muttered, "it keeps working."
Another tower completed shortly before midnight near the harbor district.
This one overlooked the docks directly.
Its mounted machine gun faced outward toward the sea entrance while dual searchlights rotated across the waterline searching through drifting Fog and black waves beyond the harbor barriers.
The effect looked intimidating even from inside the settlement.
Which was probably the point.
One of the dockworkers watching the installation finish quietly crossed his arms.
"Feels like we're waiting for an invasion."
A nearby guard answered without humor.
"We are."
No one laughed after that.
Because everybody understood it already.
The Children of Atom were moving somewhere beyond the Fog.
Scouts probably watched these towers rise in real time.
Counted artillery positions.
Tracked patrol routes.
Studied searchlight patterns.
The war hadn't gone quiet after the Nucleus raid.
It had only paused long enough for both sides to sharpen knives.
The next morning arrived colder than the last.
Fog covered nearly the entire harbor so thickly that some of the outer searchlights remained active even after sunrise because visibility outside the walls barely reached fifty meters.
But despite the weather, the watchtowers continued finishing one by one.
By midmorning, seven stood operational.
Western perimeter.
Southern ridge.
Northern observation cliffs.
Harbor line.
Eastern approach.
Each tower carried mounted machine guns, reinforced firing platforms, floodlights, emergency radios, and overlapping sight coverage with neighboring positions.
Far Harbor's skyline had transformed completely.
The settlement looked militarized from every angle now.
Like a fortress dragged out of the wasteland and dropped beside the ocean.
Sico stood atop the northern wall overlooking the construction crews working on the eighth and final watchtower near the eastern cliffs.
Below him, workers reinforced the outer barricades with additional steel plating salvaged from ruined ships while trench crews expanded anti-vehicle ditches beyond the western road approach.
The walls themselves looked thicker already.
Not prettier.
Nothing about Far Harbor became prettier during war.
Just stronger.
Avery climbed the wall steps beside him carrying another stack of engineering reports.
"Southern trench expansion's ahead of schedule."
"Good."
"Western barricade reinforcements too."
She handed over another paper.
"Searchlight fuel reserves may become a problem eventually."
Sico scanned the report quickly.
"Then we increase fuel runs."
Avery watched the workers below for several seconds before speaking again.
"You really think they'll come at us directly?"
"Yes."
"No hesitation?"
"No."
Because he understood something most people preferred avoiding.
The Children of Atom couldn't ignore Far Harbor anymore after the Nucleus bombardment.
Pride alone wouldn't allow it.
Religious groups survived humiliation badly.
Especially public humiliation.
Eventually they would strike back.
Maybe carefully.
Maybe indirectly.
But they would come.
And Far Harbor needed to look impossible to break before that happened.
Below the wall, Hayes shouted at another engineering crew attempting to secure machine gun ammunition housings beside the northern tower.
"No, no, no. If the feed line jams during sustained fire then congratulations, you've constructed a very expensive paperweight!"
One exhausted worker glared upward.
"You ever sleep?"
"Engineering is my sleep."
"That explains why you look insane."
Hayes pointed dramatically toward the machine gun mount.
"Precision has a face and you're looking at it!"
Alice passed nearby carrying rifle crates.
"I preferred him when he was emotionally attached only to artillery."
Mercer joined them on the wall not long afterward, scanning the Fog through binoculars automatically even during conversation now.
Habit.
Everyone had developed habits like that recently.
"Scouts reported movement near the southern forestline overnight."
Avery stiffened slightly.
"Children?"
"Couldn't confirm."
Sico took the binoculars briefly and studied the white-gray Fog beyond the perimeter.
Nothing visible.
But that didn't mean empty.
The island almost never stayed empty.
"Double southern patrols tonight," he said calmly.
Mercer nodded once.
"Already done."
Of course it was.
Nobody waited for orders much anymore.
Far Harbor had become faster.
Sharper.
The kind of place war creates when survival depends on adaptation happening immediately instead of eventually.
By afternoon the eighth watchtower finally stood completed.
The last support beam locked into place beneath steady rain while workers secured the mounted searchlight housing at the top platform overlooking the eastern cliffs.
Several crews actually cheered afterward.
Not loudly.
Too exhausted for loud celebration.
But enough.
Because finishing the towers felt important.
Like crossing some invisible line.
Ward climbed onto the final tower platform alongside the machine gun crew while the searchlight technicians completed alignment testing.
From up there, nearly all of Far Harbor's defensive network became visible through drifting Fog.
Artillery batteries.
Tower beams.
Wall fortifications.
Patrol routes.
Machine gun nests.
The settlement looked dangerous now.
Genuinely dangerous.
Ward stared across the harbor quietly.
A younger guard beside him finally spoke.
"Think this'll be enough?"
Ward took a while answering.
Then finally:
"Enough for what?"
The guard hesitated.
"The war."
Ward looked toward the distant Fog beyond the walls.
"No such thing."
That answer stayed with the young guard long after Ward climbed back down.
Because deep down everybody understood it already.
There was no final enough on the island.
No permanent safety.
Only preparation.
Only surviving longer than whatever tried killing you next.
As evening settled again across Far Harbor, the searchlights activated together for the first time with all twelve towers operational.
The effect transformed the harbor completely.
White beams crossed endlessly through drifting Fog from every direction while elevated machine gun silhouettes overlooked the illuminated roads beyond the walls. Patrols moved beneath rotating light patterns. Artillery crews remained on standby near firing platforms. Radios crackled constantly between observation posts.
The settlement glowed beneath the mist like a fortress refusing to disappear.
People gathered quietly along sections of the inner wall just to watch the lights sweep outward into the island darkness.
Some looked reassured.
Others uneasy.
Most looked both.
Sico stood atop the western wall overlooking the completed defenses while cold wind rolled in from the sea carrying Fog across the cliffs below.
Mercer eventually joined him there.
For a while neither spoke.
They just watched the searchlights moving through the mist.
Then Mercer finally said quietly:
"Far Harbor doesn't look afraid anymore."
Sico kept watching the Fog.
"No."
Below them, one of the searchlights swept across the western road leading toward the island interior as the beam illuminated broken pavement, ruined trees, drifting mist, and nothing else.
______________________________________________
• 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:-