If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And out on the island, possibility had become a dangerous kind of hope.
The following days settled Far Harbor into something harsher than routine.
Not normal.
Nothing about the settlement felt normal anymore.
But people had started adapting to the pressure the same way sailors adapted to rough seas after surviving enough storms. The fear never vanished completely. It simply became part of the rhythm.
Wake up beneath searchlights.
Work beneath armed towers.
Sleep beside artillery batteries.
Repeat.
The island kept moving.
So Far Harbor moved with it.
By sunrise the next morning, cold wind rolled in from the coast carrying thick Fog through the outer roads beyond the reinforced walls. Searchlights still swept slowly across the mist even in daylight, their pale beams fading in and out against drifting gray vapor while machine gun crews rotated shifts atop the watchtowers.
The walls looked different every morning now.
Stronger.
Heavier.
More complete.
Steel reinforcement had spread across nearly every major section of the perimeter during the last several days. Welded plating overlapped old wooden barricades while support braces anchored deep into the muddy ground behind them. New firing positions had been carved into the walls themselves, reinforced with salvaged ship armor and concrete-filled steel drums.
Far Harbor no longer resembled a settlement barely surviving against the island.
Now it looked like something digging in for a long war.
And wars consumed resources faster than almost anything else.
Food.
Fuel.
Steel.
Ammunition.
Replacement parts.
Medicine.
Everything disappeared faster once a settlement militarized itself.
Which was exactly why Sico began pushing patrols farther beyond the gates.
Not just security patrols anymore.
Collection patrols.
Recovery teams.
Armed scavenging operations designed to strip the island for every usable resource before enemies could do the same.
Because if Far Harbor intended to survive permanently, then it needed more than defenses.
It needed supply independence.
Near the western gate shortly after dawn, several patrol teams prepared for departure beneath rotating searchlights and the watchful barrels of mounted machine guns overhead.
The atmosphere carried tension immediately.
Nobody treated outside patrols casually anymore.
Not after the Nucleus raid.
Not after the artillery tests.
Not after the Children of Atom realized Far Harbor was changing into something dangerous.
Four armored trucks sat idling near the gate while soldiers loaded ammunition crates, fuel cans, salvaged tools, and recovery equipment into the rear compartments. Several brahmin carts waited behind them for transporting larger materials back to the settlement if recovery operations succeeded.
Mercer stood near the lead vehicle reviewing route maps with patrol leaders while rainwater dripped steadily from the brim of his coat.
"Western patrol checks the old industrial ruins first," he said while pointing toward the map.
"Priority targets are steel salvage, wiring, fuel drums, and construction-grade scrap."
One soldier nodded while adjusting the sling on his rifle.
"And if we run into Children scouts?"
Mercer's expression didn't change.
"You already know the answer."
Everyone did.
Avoid unnecessary fights if possible.
Kill them if necessary.
Nobody said it aloud anymore because nobody needed to.
Nearby, Avery supervised supply allocation beside the transport trucks while arguing with one exhausted quartermaster over fuel consumption numbers.
"We can't keep burning this much diesel every day," the quartermaster muttered.
"We also can't build walls out of optimism," Avery answered immediately.
The man sighed heavily.
"…Fair."
Sico arrived near the gate just before departure while the patrol teams finished final equipment checks.
The soldiers straightened slightly when he approached.
Not out of fear exactly.
Focus.
That same sharpened atmosphere Far Harbor carried lately.
One of the patrol leaders stepped forward.
"Routes confirmed. Estimated return before nightfall if conditions hold."
Sico nodded once.
"Do not overextend."
The patrol leader understood the real meaning behind that immediately.
The island punished greed.
Especially after dark.
"Understood."
Sico looked toward the trucks loaded with scavenging equipment.
"Bring back anything usable."
Another nod.
Steel.
Concrete fragments.
Copper wiring.
Mechanical parts.
Agricultural equipment.
Even broken machinery mattered now.
Far Harbor had entered the stage where entire futures depended on salvaging forgotten ruins faster than enemies destroyed them.
The western gate slowly opened with a grinding metallic groan while machine gun crews above the walls scanned the Fog-covered roads carefully.
Outside the settlement, visibility looked terrible.
Gray mist swallowed the road barely fifty meters beyond the perimeter.
One of the younger soldiers muttered quietly while climbing into the rear transport truck:
"Feels like the island's watching again."
An older veteran beside him checked his rifle chamber calmly.
"It always is."
The convoy rolled out slowly afterward.
Engines growling.
Tires sinking into muddy roads.
Searchlights followed them briefly through the Fog until eventually the mist swallowed the vehicles completely.
Gone.
Just like that.
Far Harbor watched its people disappear into danger so often lately that nobody reacted dramatically anymore.
Still, people watched.
Always.
The gate closed again behind them with another heavy metallic crash.
Inside the settlement, work resumed almost immediately.
Construction crews returned to reinforcing the southern perimeter walls while engineers inspected artillery stabilization braces near the harbor batteries. At the farm inland, workers continued expanding irrigation trenches beneath armed patrol supervision while greenhouse repairs advanced section by section.
Everything connected now.
Walls protected farms.
Farms sustained soldiers.
Soldiers protected supply convoys.
Supply convoys strengthened walls again.
Far Harbor had started functioning like an actual wartime settlement instead of a desperate harbor town reacting blindly to disaster after disaster.
That change carried momentum behind it now.
By midday, Sico moved between the farm and western wall construction sites reviewing progress reports while the settlement worked around him in steady organized motion.
At the farmland, new planting rows stretched farther inland beyond the original fencing now. Workers had begun clearing additional ground despite terrible soil conditions while repaired irrigation pumps pushed steadier water flow through reinforced channels.
Longfellow stood near one of the expanded plots smoking beside stacked fertilizer bags scavenged from mainland ruins.
"You've got half the damn settlement farming now."
Sico studied the newly marked rows.
"Not enough yet."
Longfellow snorted.
"Nothing's ever enough for you lately."
"No."
The older man shook his head slowly but didn't argue.
Because the farm already looked healthier than it had days ago.
Still rough.
Still struggling against the island constantly.
But alive.
That mattered more than appearances.
A group of younger workers carefully planted additional mutfruit saplings nearby while another crew reinforced greenhouse insulation using salvaged rubber sealing strips and replacement glass panels.
One woman glanced toward the settlement walls visible through the Fog.
"Feels strange growing food beside artillery guns."
Longfellow answered before Sico could.
"Better than starving beside them."
Nobody disagreed.
By late afternoon, rain returned in scattered bursts across the harbor while construction crews worked through the weather anyway.
Mud covered almost every section of the outer perimeter now.
Workers barely seemed to notice anymore.
At the western walls, welders secured another layer of steel reinforcement against vulnerable barricade sections while trench crews deepened anti-vehicle ditches beyond the gate approaches.
Sico stood atop one of the watchtowers reviewing engineering notes when Ward climbed the stairs carrying fresh reports tucked beneath his arm.
"Southern reinforcement crews finished two additional sections."
"Good."
Ward handed over another paper.
"Farm expansion's progressing faster than expected too."
Sico scanned the report briefly.
Crop viability percentages.
Water consumption rates.
Greenhouse repair status.
Not ideal numbers yet.
But improving.
Ward leaned against the railing overlooking the Fog outside the walls.
"You know people are starting to believe this might actually work."
Sico kept reading.
"What?"
"All of it."
Ward gestured toward the settlement below.
"The defenses. The farms. The expansion."
Searchlights swept slowly through the mist beneath them while workers moved between steel barricades carrying tools and supply crates.
"Far Harbor feels…"
He searched for the right word.
"…stable."
That word sounded almost foreign here.
Stable.
On this island?
Practically mythical.
But maybe not impossible anymore.
Maybe.
Sico finally lowered the reports.
"Stability requires maintenance."
Ward gave a tired laugh.
"Yeah. That sounds like something you'd say."
Night fell cold and wet again across the harbor.
Searchlights activated across all twelve towers while patrol teams doubled along the walls after sunset. Artillery crews maintained overnight readiness rotations near the batteries while machine gun nests overlooked the Fog-covered roads beyond the settlement.
And still the patrol convoy hadn't returned.
That alone raised tension slightly.
Not panic.
Not yet.
But people noticed.
Mercer stood near the western gate around midnight watching the searchlights sweep across the outer roads while rain dripped steadily from the wall platforms overhead.
"They're late," Alice muttered beside him.
"Yes."
"You worried?"
Mercer stayed quiet for several seconds.
"Always."
That was the truth now.
Every patrol outside the walls carried risk.
Every scavenging operation risked ambush.
The Children of Atom wouldn't ignore Far Harbor's expansion forever.
Eventually scouts would start probing defenses.
Testing reactions.
Studying patrol routes.
Everyone understood that.
Which made the sound of engines approaching through the Fog shortly before dawn feel heavier than usual.
Searchlights immediately locked toward the western road while machine gun crews snapped into alert positions atop the walls.
The gate guards raised rifles automatically.
Then shapes emerged through the mist.
The convoy.
Returning.
But slower than before.
One truck carried visible bullet damage across the armored side panels while another limped badly on a damaged front wheel.
The atmosphere near the gate changed instantly.
Mercer stepped forward sharply.
"Open it."
The western gate groaned open while the convoy rolled inside beneath sweeping searchlights and armed overwatch.
Soldiers climbed down from the vehicles looking soaked, muddy, and exhausted.
One man carried a bloodstained bandage wrapped tightly around his upper arm.
Another limped heavily.
Not catastrophic losses.
But not clean either.
Mercer approached immediately.
"What happened?"
The patrol leader removed his helmet slowly, rainwater dripping from the edges.
"Children scouts."
The nearby guards stiffened immediately.
"Where?"
"Old industrial sector west of the quarry roads."
Not far.
Too close, really.
The patrol leader rubbed exhaustion from his face before continuing.
"We found salvage first. Steel beams. Wiring. Fuel drums."
He gestured toward the supply trucks loaded with recovered materials.
"Started extraction operations."
Pause.
"Then they hit us."
The western gate area had gone completely quiet now except for the sound of rain against steel plating overhead.
Sico arrived from the inner perimeter moments later while medics moved toward the wounded soldiers.
The patrol leader straightened immediately.
"Scouts?" Sico asked calmly.
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Six confirmed initially."
Initially.
Meaning more probably watched unseen from the Fog.
The patrol leader continued.
"They used the tree line near the ruined highway section. Long rifles. Tried pinning the recovery crews while another group circled toward the trucks."
Mercer's jaw tightened slightly.
Coordinated.
Not random harassment.
Testing tactics.
"How long did the fight last?" he asked.
"Maybe fifteen minutes."
Another soldier nearby snorted tiredly.
"Felt longer."
The patrol leader nodded toward one of the damaged trucks.
"They disabled our lead wheel assembly early. We almost lost the transport."
"But didn't."
"No."
Because Far Harbor patrols weren't soft targets anymore either.
The soldiers carried better weapons now.
Better armor.
Better coordination.
And most importantly?
Experience.
The patrol leader finally looked toward Sico again.
"We pushed them back."
"How?"
"Machine gun fire from the rear truck forced them out of cover."
Another pause.
"Then they retreated into the Fog."
No bodies recovered.
Typical island fighting.
Fast.
Violent.
Then gone.
Like the Fog swallowed entire battles afterward.
One wounded soldier sat heavily against the truck wheel while a medic cleaned blood from a graze wound along his shoulder.
"Fanatics almost hit the fuel drums," he muttered.
"If that round landed lower we'd all be dead."
Nearby workers unloading recovered steel supplies listened quietly while the report continued.
Because this mattered.
The war had finally reached outside patrol range directly.
No more distant rumors.
No more theoretical threats.
Now Far Harbor patrols were exchanging gunfire with Children of Atom scouts in the wilderness surrounding the settlement.
And everyone understood what came next.
More patrol clashes.
More ambushes.
More escalation.
Sico studied the damaged truck silently for several moments before speaking again.
"They observed your response times."
The patrol leader nodded grimly.
"Yes."
"They were testing."
"Yes."
Mercer folded his arms tightly.
"Which means more scouts are already out there."
Nobody argued.
Because it was obvious now.
The Children of Atom had started probing the perimeter.
Watching patrol patterns.
Tracking recovery operations.
Measuring Far Harbor's expansion the same way Far Harbor measured them.
Behind them, dawn slowly began spreading gray light across the harbor while searchlights continued sweeping through the mist beyond the walls.
Workers unloaded recovered steel beams from the convoy anyway.
Fuel drums too.
Construction materials.
Even after a firefight, the mission still mattered.
Because Far Harbor couldn't stop building now.
Not anymore.
Avery arrived carrying logistics reports while staring at the bullet holes across the transport vehicle.
"Well," she muttered tiredly, "I suppose that answers whether the Children noticed us."
Alice looked toward the Fog outside the gate.
"Oh, they noticed."
The rain never fully stopped that morning.
It drifted across Far Harbor in thin cold sheets while Fog rolled through the outer roads beyond the walls like slow-moving smoke. Searchlights continued sweeping over the mist even after sunrise, their pale beams cutting across muddy ground, ruined guardrails, shattered trees, and empty roads that never truly felt empty anymore.
Not after the patrol report.
Not after the ambush.
The atmosphere inside the settlement had changed again overnight.
Subtly.
But unmistakably.
Before, people feared attacks.
Now they understood the attacks had already started.
Not full assaults yet.
Not artillery exchanges or massed assaults against the walls.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
Observation.
Testing.
The Children of Atom were watching.
Watching patrol timings.
Watching recovery operations.
Watching how Far Harbor responded under pressure.
And that meant the island itself had become another battlefield.
One measured in visibility, reaction time, and information.
Inside the command hall, the mood felt sharper than exhaustion now.
Focused.
Cold.
The damaged patrol truck sat parked outside the western gate where everyone passing through the settlement could see the bullet scars across its steel plating. Workers had already begun repairing the damaged wheel assembly beneath a tarp-covered maintenance station, but the holes remained visible enough to remind people what waited beyond the Fog.
The Children of Atom were no longer distant enemies hiding near the Nucleus.
They were out there now.
Close.
Ward stood near the operations table studying perimeter maps while Mercer reviewed patrol reports beside him. Avery sorted supply manifests nearby, occasionally glancing toward the western gate through the rain-streaked command hall windows.
Alice leaned near the radio desk drinking coffee that had long since gone cold.
"You know," she muttered quietly, "I really miss when our biggest problem was Mirelurks."
Mercer didn't look up from the map.
"Mirelurks don't conduct reconnaissance."
"True."
She exhaled slowly.
"Honestly, I preferred the crabs."
Nobody laughed much.
Because the realization hanging over the room felt too heavy now.
The Children of Atom had stopped reacting emotionally after the Nucleus raid.
Now they were adapting.
And adaptive enemies survived longer.
Sico stood near the center table studying the patrol route maps silently while rain tapped steadily against the roof overhead.
Several locations had already been marked with charcoal circles.
Old industrial roads.
Forest approach lines.
Collapsed highways.
Ridge trails hidden by Fog.
Possible scout positions.
Possible observation points.
Possible infiltration routes.
The patrol leader from the convoy stood nearby with a fresh bandage wrapped around one shoulder while answering additional questions from Ward.
"They knew the terrain too well," he admitted.
"Moved between cover fast. Never stayed exposed longer than a few seconds."
Mercer folded his arms tighter.
"Military behavior."
"Yes."
Not fanatic chaos.
Not reckless charges.
Discipline.
Which made the situation worse.
Avery looked up from her supply reports.
"You think they're reorganizing after the Nucleus attack?"
"They already have," Sico answered calmly.
The room quieted slightly.
Because everyone knew he was probably right.
The Children of Atom had survived the island too long to collapse from one devastating raid alone. Fanatics became unpredictable after losses.
Sometimes weaker.
Sometimes far more dangerous.
Ward traced several patrol lines across the map with one finger.
"They're probing outside our walls now because they're looking for gaps."
"Yes."
"Which means they'll keep testing."
"Yes."
Simple answers again.
But absolute ones.
Sico studied the western patrol routes for another few seconds before finally speaking again.
"We increase patrol range."
That pulled everyone's attention immediately toward him.
Mercer frowned slightly.
"Farther out?"
"Yes."
Ward looked uncertain.
"That stretches manpower."
"It also pushes their scouts farther from the walls."
That mattered.
Because every scout allowed close to Far Harbor gathered information.
Wall layouts.
Tower positions.
Searchlight timing.
Artillery reaction speed.
Patrol rotations.
The Children of Atom weren't only scouting terrain anymore.
They were scouting weaknesses.
And Sico had no intention of letting them map the settlement uncontested.
Alice rubbed tired eyes.
"So now we're fighting a reconnaissance war."
"Yes."
She stared at him for a second.
"You somehow make everything sound simple."
"It is simple."
Pause.
"Not easy."
That answer settled across the room quietly.
Because everybody understood the difference now.
Outside the command hall, Far Harbor continued working despite the tension.
Construction crews reinforced another section of the northern perimeter walls while welders secured fresh steel plating against older barricade structures. At the farm inland, workers expanded additional planting rows beneath armed supervision while greenhouse crews repaired insulation seals damaged during the last storm.
The settlement kept moving because it had to.
Stopping now would kill morale faster than bullets.
But beneath all the activity sat awareness.
People kept glancing toward the Fog more often.
Watching the roads longer.
Listening harder whenever patrol vehicles disappeared beyond the gates.
The island suddenly felt closer again.
By midday, planning for the expanded patrol operations had already begun.
Inside the western gate courtyard, soldiers gathered around supply crates and route maps while mechanics reinforced transport vehicles with additional armor plating scavenged from ruined industrial equipment.
The changes looked immediate.
Heavier machine gun mounts got installed on the convoy trucks.
Additional radios distributed.
More ammunition loaded.
Long-range patrol kits prepared.
Nobody talked about simple scavenging runs anymore.
Now they discussed operational zones.
Fallback routes.
Extraction timing.
Ambush responses.
Far Harbor's patrols had evolved into military reconnaissance units almost overnight.
Mercer walked between the vehicles reviewing preparation lists while rainwater dripped from the barrels of rifles stacked beside the loading stations.
"Every patrol gets designated fallback points now," he ordered.
"If you lose visibility or communications, you pull back immediately."
One younger soldier checked spare magazines nervously.
"What about pursuit?"
"No pursuit into dense Fog."
Mercer's tone sharpened slightly.
"That's how people disappear."
The soldiers nodded quietly.
Because everyone knew stories about the island swallowing patrols whole.
Not just through monsters.
Through terrain.
Weather.
Ambushes.
The Fog itself felt alive sometimes out there.
Sico arrived near the convoy preparations while several patrol leaders reviewed expanded operational maps spread across a steel crate beneath tarp cover.
The patrol radius had nearly doubled.
Western industrial zones.
Southern forest trails.
Northern coastal roads.
Observation checkpoints far beyond previous safe distances.
One patrol leader studied the routes carefully.
"We're basically building a moving perimeter now."
"Yes."
That was exactly what this became.
Far Harbor's walls alone weren't enough anymore.
The settlement needed defensive depth.
Layers.
Observation beyond the gates.
Pressure outside the perimeter.
The Children of Atom scouts needed to feel hunted too.
Ward approached carrying another stack of reports.
"We can maintain the expanded patrols for now."
"For now," Avery repeated from nearby.
The logistical strain remained ugly.
More fuel consumption.
More ammunition usage.
More maintenance cycles.
More exhausted soldiers rotating through dangerous territory.
Everything cost something now.
Still, nobody argued against the patrol expansion.
Because everyone understood the alternative.
Let the Children map the settlement freely.
Let them identify blind spots.
Weak sectors.
Reaction delays.
That path ended badly.
Near the vehicle line, Alice watched mechanics bolt additional armor plates onto the damaged patrol truck from yesterday's ambush.
"You know what's strange?" she muttered quietly to Mercer.
"What?"
"The truck getting shot at bothers me less than the fact they were patient enough to set up the ambush properly."
Mercer nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
Because random enemies could be predicted eventually.
Organized enemies adapted.
That was worse.
Far worse.
The first expanded patrol deployment left shortly after noon.
This time the convoy looked heavier.
Meaner.
Two armored trucks equipped with mounted machine guns led the formation while additional scout teams moved ahead on foot through the Fog-covered roads to check likely ambush points before the vehicles advanced.
Searchlights followed the convoy until visibility disappeared completely again.
Then only engine sounds remained.
Then silence.
Far Harbor watched them leave carefully from behind the walls.
Workers paused welding briefly.
Farmers stopped along the irrigation trenches.
Children standing near the inner barricades tracked the convoy with wide eyes until the Fog swallowed the trucks whole.
People understood more now.
Those patrols weren't just scavenging missions anymore.
They were the first line keeping hostile scouts away from the settlement.
The island beyond the walls had become contested ground.
At the farm later that afternoon, Longfellow stood beside one of the expanded irrigation trenches while workers planted another line of mutfruit saplings beneath steady drizzle.
"You're pushing farther outside the walls now too?"
Sico studied the crop rows.
"Yes."
Longfellow grunted quietly.
"Children won't like that."
"No."
The older hunter adjusted his coat against the cold wind.
"They'll fight harder the more territory you deny them."
Sico looked toward the distant Fog beyond the settlement.
"Yes."
Longfellow studied him sideways for a second.
"You always answer like you already accepted the ugly part."
"Because avoiding it changes nothing."
That sounded harsh.
But the island itself taught harsher lessons every day.
Nearby, several farm workers listened quietly while pretending to focus on the planting rows.
One younger man finally spoke up.
"You really think they'd attack the farms?"
"Yes."
The worker swallowed slightly.
"…Why?"
"Food is survival."
That answer silenced the group immediately.
Because it made terrible sense.
Destroying crops weakened settlements without firing artillery.
Sabotaging irrigation systems created shortages.
Starving defenders eventually broke walls more effectively than bullets.
Far Harbor's farms had already become strategic targets the moment they started succeeding.
That realization spread through the workers slowly afterward.
You could see it in their faces.
Even the dirt wasn't safe anymore.
By evening, the expanded patrol system had already started changing life inside the settlement.
Observation reports arrived constantly now.
Movement spotted near southern ridge trails.
Possible scout tracks west of the industrial sector.
Distant lights near abandoned highway overpasses.
Radio operators barely rested between transmissions.
Inside the command hall, the operations map had grown crowded with markings.
Patrol routes.
Scout sightings.
Resource locations.
Suspected Children observation points.
Far Harbor was learning the island as aggressively as the island tried learning Far Harbor.
Mercer leaned over the map reviewing fresh reports while Ward updated route overlays beside him.
"Southern patrol found signs of recent campfires near the collapsed rail tunnel."
"Children?"
"Probably."
Avery looked up sharply.
"How close?"
"Closer than I'd like."
Nobody liked that answer.
The patrol radius had expanded specifically to prevent scouts approaching the settlement unnoticed.
The fact they were still finding evidence of Children movement near the perimeter meant the enemy already understood the same game.
Alice sat near the radio station cleaning mud from her boots.
"You know this place officially stopped being a town, right?"
Ward glanced sideways.
"What is it then?"
She gestured toward the operations map covered in military markings.
"A frontline."
No one disagreed.
Because Far Harbor no longer functioned like an isolated harbor settlement trying to survive environmental dangers.
Now it operated like contested territory preparing for prolonged conflict.
And somehow…
Despite everything…
People had adapted frighteningly fast.
The next morning arrived beneath thicker Fog than usual.
Visibility outside the walls dropped so badly that several searchlights remained active well after sunrise while patrol towers communicated constantly over radio frequencies to maintain observation coverage between sectors.
The island looked ghostly today.
Roads disappeared entirely into white-gray mist.
Tree lines blurred into vague shadows.
Even the artillery batteries looked distant despite standing inside the settlement perimeter.
Perfect scout weather.
Which meant everyone felt tense immediately.
Sico stood atop the western tower overlooking the outer roads while machine gun crews scanned through optics beneath the sweeping searchlights.
Mercer climbed the stairs carrying fresh overnight reports.
"Two patrols reported movement."
"Confirmed?"
"No."
That bothered both of them.
The island produced false sightings constantly.
Fog shadows.
Animals.
Wind movement.
But lately?
Too many sightings became real.
Mercer handed over another report.
"Western patrol found footprints near the old quarry trail."
Sico scanned the paper briefly.
"How recent?"
"Hours."
Close again.
The Children kept pushing toward the perimeter despite the expanded patrol coverage.
Testing reactions.
Measuring aggression.
Searching for weak sectors.
Below the tower, another patrol convoy prepared to leave the western gate while mechanics finished loading replacement fuel drums beneath armed supervision.
The soldiers moved differently now compared to a week ago.
More disciplined.
More alert.
Nobody joked much before departure anymore.
One younger guard watched the Fog beyond the gate nervously while checking the mounted machine gun belt feed.
"You think they're out there right now?"
The older gunner beside him didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The younger guard swallowed.
"How do you stay calm about that?"
The older man checked the weapon chamber carefully before answering.
"You don't."
Simple truth.
Nobody stayed calm on the island.
They just learned how to function while afraid.
The gate opened slowly again.
The convoy rolled forward into the Fog.
And above them, searchlights continued sweeping across the mist while artillery batteries stood silent behind reinforced walls waiting for whatever came next.
______________________________________________
• 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:-