The night was quiet except for the hum of generators and the rhythmic crash of waves outside — until a piercing burst of static shattered the calm across Dolls Maintanence Bay.
"—AAAHHHHHHHHHHH—!!!"
The scream wasn't human. It was metallic, distorted, and ear-splitting.
Sarah bolted from her office, ISAC flashing orange as she entered the maintenance room. Sparks danced across the floor, and Mayling was huddled behind a toolbox, clutching Curie as a guttural string of profanities echoed from the workbench.
In the center of the room, a half-assembled Dinergate twitched violently. Its stubby frame convulsed, optic flickering from crimson to orange to static snow. It tried to hop forward — but it had no legs, only a half-welded chassis.
Scarecrow: "YOU MOTHERF—!! WHAT—WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY BODY?! THIS IS A—A—DINERGATE?!?!"A glitching shriek followed, halfway between a roar and a dial-up tone."AAAAAAHHHH—!!!"
A single BANG cut through the noise.
Sarah stood by the doorway, smoke curling from the barrel of her pistol — one warning shot through the ceiling. Her voice was calm, icy.
Sarah: "That's quite enough."
Scarecrow's optic swiveled toward her. "Oh, it's you…you... you... She male BITCH again! What, you couldn't just kill me? You had to stuff me into this MutherF@cking tin can—!"
Sarah holstered her sidearm, stepping closer with that unnervingly steady composure.
Sarah: "One more tantrum and profanity like that," she said evenly, "and I'll let my dolls decide whether to use you for AMERICAN pass time as football or baseball. With you as the ball."
The Dinergate froze, its optic flickering uncertainly.
Scarecrow: "…You wouldn't."
Sarah (coldly): "Try me."
The room went dead silent, save for the soft hum of machinery.
Curie, still shaken, whispered, "Mon dieu… she's conscious EVEN inside that?"
Mayling nodded, voice trembling. "Haha...that's Sangvis Ferris's Neural core all right, fully active. Didn't expect she awaken that fast."
Sarah crouched, eyes level with Scarecrow's optic.
Sarah: "Good. You and I are going to have a very long conversation about the Institute… and your sisters."
After Several Hours, The dinergate twitched on the table, optic glaring red as cables linked its chassis to ISAC's terminal. Sarah leaned against the console, arms crossed, watching the data scroll in silence.
Sarah: "Eight Ringleaders. Confirm it."
Scarecrow: "Hmph. You already know that much — figure out the rest yourself."
Sarah tilted her head slightly. "You could make this easier."
Scarecrow: "Why would I? You think just because I'm stuck in a tin can, so I'll squeal for you like a good dolly? Please. You're just another human playing soldier, pretending to own what you don't understand."
ISAC's orange interface flickered, flagging a neural spike in the Dinergate's core — Scarecrow was lying, but selectively. Sarah didn't press further. She didn't need to.
Sarah (calmly): "Fine. Keep your secrets. I'm not in a hurry in long winter."
She turned off the room's lights and unhooked the Dinergate's cables.
Sarah: "But you should know — your silence won't last forever. People have a habit of breaking when the world outside keeps spinning without them."
Sarah lifted the small Dinergate under one arm and left the room.
Spectacle Island – Cafeteria, 0700 Hours
ISAC's watch face blinked exactly 0700 in amber across Sarah's wrist. The faint hum of morning activity filled the hall — tactical dolls preparing breakfast for the few human residents. The scent of synthetic bacon and rehydrated eggs mixed with the sound of frying pans.
Sarah placed the Dinergate neatly beside a vending machine, directly facing the cafeteria tables. She muted its speaker, leaving Scarecrow trapped in a sensory prison of sight only.
Scarecrow's optic flickered wildly as she watched: HK416 laughing softly as she flipped an omelet with robotic precision. UMP45 teasing UMP9 about her clumsy attempt at toast. Even Virgil — the institute traitor in her eyes — was there, shoveling down food like a man finally tasting freedom.
All of it vivid, all of it denied to her.
The optic's red glow dimmed and flared erratically, like a heartbeat of hatred.
Scarecrow (internal, voice filter glitching): "You… monster. You did this on purpose, didn't you…"
Sarah sat nearby, sipping her coffee as if she hadn't heard.
ISAC blinked on her wrist, muted, recording neural stress levels.
Two hours passed. Dolls joked, shared stories, even played light music from an old radio. Sarah never looked Scarecrow's way once.
By the time the cafeteria cleared, Scarecrow's optic burned dull crimson — fury simmering, restraint cracking.
Sarah (quietly, finally turning): "How's breakfast, Scarecrow?"
The Dinergate jerked in fury, its small frame rattling against the vending machine.
Scarecrow: "You think this is funny?! You're torturing me for scraps of intel?!"
Sarah set her cup down.
Sarah: "No. I'm teaching you perspective. You hate humans for using machines like tools. But look at you — alive, aware, and still defined by what you've lost yet working with institute."
She crouched, her voice lowering to a whisper.
Sarah: "Remember this feeling. Because the next time we talk about your sisters, I want you to really think about what you're fighting for."
Sarah turned away, leaving the Dinergate's optic flickering with a silent, impotent rage.
Spectacle Island – Observation Deck, Late Morning
The storm clouds were rolling in over the bay, the faint scent of salt and rust drifting through the open hatch. Down below, the sound of mechanical servos and hammering echoed — Dolls preparing reinforcement plates before the winter storm hit.
Sarah stood by the railing, the cold wind tugging at her coat. The Dinergate — Scarecrow — sat motionless in a sealed cage at the far end of the deck, optic dimmed, powered down for now.
Virgil approached quietly, a steaming mug of synth-coffee in his mutated hand.
Virgil: "You know… I used to think the Institute was heartless for keeping failed synths alive during testing. But seeing that—" he nods toward the caged Dinergate "—I can't tell if you're crueler or just more efficient."
Sarah didn't turn to face him. She just exhaled slowly, the faint glow of her ISAC reflecting in her eyes.
Sarah: "The Dinergate is isolated. No uplink, no data port, no comm signal. Just optics, audio, and speaker. It can't transmit or receive anything beyond this room."
Virgil: "Still… it's aware. You're keeping a sentient being trapped inside a toy."
Sarah: "It's also a murderer who orchestrated synth raids on civilian zones."
She turned now, meeting his gaze.
Sarah: "If she was human, the Minutemen would've hanged her already. I'm giving her a chance to talk before that decision comes."
Virgil frowned, uneasy but not entirely unsympathetic.
Virgil: "And after? What happens when this Institute mess is done?"
Sarah looked out toward the horizon — where the mainland shimmered faintly under the morning haze.
Sarah: "Once the Institute falls, I'll decide. Right now, that Dinergate is information — leverage. And until we end the crisis, I can't afford to throw away any piece that might help prevent another war."
There was a pause, filled only by the soft mechanical hum of the base generators.
Virgil: "You sound like… them. Like how we justified everything under the Institute."
Sarah gave a faint, almost bitter smile.
Sarah: "Difference is — I know it's wrong."
She turned back toward the bay, her tone growing sharper, colder.
Sarah: "The Minutemen and the Brotherhood are both preparing to move. The Institute's time is short. Nate's forces will go in first — methodical, clean, no harm to unarmed civilians unless fired upon."Sarah: "But Maxson's Brotherhood… they'll burn it all down, even the scientists who had no say in what was done."
Virgil: "So you're trying to stop them."
Sarah: "Trying," she admitted, "but I'll need proof — evidence that some of the Institute's people are worth saving on. Otherwise, it's a massacre waiting to happen."
Virgil took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her quietly.
Virgil: "And the scarecrow's head you're keeping — that's your insurance?"
Sarah's voice dropped to a near whisper.
Sarah: "Insurance. Bait. Or maybe a chance at understanding what the Institute woke up on when they touched Sangvis tech. Whatever it takes to end this."
The wind picked up again, carrying the distant call of gulls across the water.
Virgil (quietly): "You carry too much on your shoulders, Commander."
Sarah allowed herself a faint, tired chuckle.
Sarah: "There're a reason why I recover them to help me carry it."
As she glanced toward the workshop below, where Dolls were still at work — methodical, loyal, and tireless.