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She materialized in the ruins of Back Bay — the old husk of Boston still silent and eerie in the evening twilight. Wind whispered between crumbling brownstones, and the faint scent of smoke lingered in the air.
Then the scene change to the command center at Greenetech hummed with quiet activity, its once-ravaged interior now alive with soft lights, the faint clatter of terminals, and the low murmur of operators relaying status reports from the perimeter. Despite the scars from the Institute's recent assault — broken tiles, scorched walls, the still-lingering scent of plasma burns in the lower halls — Greenetech stood. And it stood because they had made it stand.
At the center of the room, the large tactical table buzzed softly with a projected map of downtown Boston. Red and green icons flickered across its surface, marking movements, outposts, patrol routes. The freshly cleared corpses had been buried. The injured treated. The dead mourned. Forty-six fighters lost. Over a hundred Institute synths neutralized. Victory — costly and raw.
Sico stood near the map, resting his hands on the metal edge of the table. His jaw was tight, eyes rimmed with fatigue. He hadn't slept much since the battle — maybe an hour here or there, head resting against a steel beam or the side of a bunk. But rest could come later. Right now, there was work to be done.
Robert, Sarah, Mel, and MacCready were gathered around him, each of them worn but alert. Robert's sleeves were rolled up, blood and grease staining his forearms. Sarah had a makeshift bandage taped across her cheek, and MacCready still limped slightly, a deep graze on his thigh stitched up just yesterday. Mel was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, a scowl etched into his square face — not angry, just… thoughtful. Focused.
Sico looked at each of them in turn, then drew in a breath and spoke.
"I want you to stay here, Robert."
The words landed with a quiet finality, causing the young man's brow to furrow. He stepped closer to the table.
"You sure?" Robert asked. "I mean… I can come with you guys. I've been with you since the beginning."
"I know," Sico said. His voice was soft but steady, like a man balancing weight carefully on every word. "You've done more than anyone. But that's exactly why I need you to hold this place. Greenetech isn't just a building anymore. It's a symbol. We bled for it. We beat them here. And they'll be back — maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. You're the best one to lead it."
Robert didn't reply at first. He glanced around the room — at the terminals, the defensive screens, the old walls newly reinforced with steel and sandbags. At the tired faces of those still recovering from the assault. And then he looked back to Sico.
"Okay," he said at last, slowly. "I'll do it."
Sico nodded once, the faintest trace of gratitude passing across his face. He turned toward Sarah next.
"You, me, Mel, and MacCready — we're heading back to Sanctuary."
Sarah straightened, the expression on her face unreadable. "Back to Sanctuary? Now?"
"Now," Sico confirmed. "We've got wounded families up there. Settlements sending messengers. People asking what comes next. And after what we just survived, the answer can't be silence."
"We need to show them we're alive," MacCready said, catching on. "That we're still in this fight. That the Institute didn't scare us into hiding."
"Exactly," Sico said. "This place stands because of the people behind it. Not just us — them. We've got to remind them what they're fighting for."
Sarah looked at him closely. "You're worried."
He didn't deny it. "Yeah. The Institute will respond. And the Brotherhood… they've been circling Fort Strong. I don't like it. If they make a play now, while everyone's patching up wounds, they could tip the balance."
"They might think they're the only ones who can protect people," Mel added. "Especially if the Institute starts launching more attacks."
"Then we make sure that's not the narrative," Sico said. "We make sure they know the Minutemen are here. United. Prepared."
The room fell into a thoughtful silence. Then Robert stepped forward again, his voice quieter this time.
"You trust me with this place. That means a lot, Sico."
"I do," Sico said, clapping him gently on the shoulder. "More than you know."
Robert smiled — faint, but genuine — then turned to start issuing orders to the technicians nearby. Already assuming command. Already stepping into the role.
Sico turned back to the others. "We leave in twenty minutes. Pack light, move fast. If anything happens while we're gone, Robert has full authority."
Sarah gave a sharp nod. Mel simply grunted in agreement. MacCready gave a low whistle.
"Back to Sanctuary," he said under his breath, almost wistfully. "Haven't seen the old place in weeks."
As the group dispersed to grab gear and relay orders, Sico lingered a moment longer by the map table. His eyes traced the ridgelines, the outposts, the glowing green path leading back to the heart of the Commonwealth.
Sanctuary. Where it all began.
He exhaled slowly, then turned and walked out of the room.
The journey back to Sanctuary took the better part of a day.
They moved cautiously through the ruins of Boston, slipping between alleys, hugging treelines, avoiding the more exposed roads. The Brotherhood had been more active lately — Vertibird sightings near Fort Strong, Brotherhood patrols fanning out toward Cambridge. Sico didn't want to risk an encounter. Not yet.
They spent the night at an old Red Rocket station just outside Lexington. The garage doors had long since been reinforced, the back room stocked with supplies and a cot for travelers. One of the settlements nearby had kept it as a waystation — Minutemen passed through here often, en route to other operations.
That night, Sico sat outside under the stars, a battered map stretched over his knees, using a penlight to mark defensive routes. Sarah emerged a little after midnight, sitting beside him quietly.
"You're not sleeping," she said.
"Neither are you."
Sarah smirked. "Touché."
The night was cool, the wind gentle. In the distance, a feral ghoul howled somewhere, then fell silent. The world outside still wanted to remind them it was dangerous.
"I keep thinking about the people we lost," Sico said after a moment. "At Greenetech. Forty-six of them. Some I barely knew. Some I trained with."
Sarah folded her arms, leaning back against a broken pump.
"I know. I do too."
"I keep wondering if it was worth it," he continued. "If we gave up too much ground for one building. One victory."
Sarah turned to him. "They sent over a hundred synths after us. That wasn't just about one building. That was about sending a message."
"And we sent one back," he murmured.
"Damn right we did," she said. "We showed them the Commonwealth doesn't belong to them. Not anymore."
Sico gave her a sideways glance, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his lips. "You always did know how to shut me up."
"Part of my charm."
They sat in silence for a while after that, letting the wind carry their thoughts elsewhere.
By afternoon the next day, Sanctuary's gates came into view — wide and reinforced with steel beams, flanked by two makeshift towers manned with spotters and Minutemen sharpshooters.
As soon as the sentries recognized the group, the gates creaked open.
The feeling of stepping back inside Sanctuary was something Sico hadn't anticipated. Relief, yes — but also an ache, like returning to a childhood home that had somehow changed in your absence. The houses were fortified. Walls had been rebuilt. Children darted between shacks and barracks, and dozens of new faces mingled with familiar ones. A thriving community — bruised, but resilient.
Word spread quickly: Sico was back.
A small crowd gathered at the town center, between the flagpole and the communal mess hall. Sico stood with Sarah, Mel, and MacCready at his side. He looked over the sea of faces — settlers, fighters, engineers, farmers, children, elders. All of them looking to him now.
He cleared his throat.
"We held Greenetech," he said, voice strong. "They came at us with everything. Over a hundred synths. We lost friends. We lost fighters. But we held. And the Institute — for all their tech, for all their arrogance — lost."
There were murmurs of surprise, some quiet cheers, a few nods.
"But this isn't over," he continued. "They'll come again. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But they'll come. And when they do, they'll want us afraid. Divided. Disorganized."
He stepped forward.
"We can't give them that. We need to be more than a militia. We need to be a nation. A united Commonwealth. Greenetech was a step. The next is coordination. Defense. Infrastructure. We're sending out new patrols. Establishing new comms lines. And building stronger ties between settlements. If they want a war — they're going to find out just how much we've learned."
By the time he finished, the crowd had grown louder — shouts of support, applause, the kind of defiant hope that turned into fuel. Sico didn't smile. But his eyes warmed.
He stepped down as Preston Garvey approached through the crowd.
"You've done more than I ever imagined," Preston said. "They believe in you, Sico. All of them."
Sico clapped him on the arm. "They believed in something bigger than me. That's what matters."
Preston stood with his hands on his hips, boots scuffed from travel, the tan coat of his Minuteman uniform tugging gently in the afternoon breeze. His face was weary — the kind of tired that came not just from lack of sleep, but from carrying the weight of responsibility day after day, month after month. Yet when Sico turned toward him, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes — a quiet fire, reignited.
Sico didn't waste time.
"I need you to start recruiting," he said. "And I mean seriously recruiting. I want fifteen hundred more soldiers. Minimum."
Preston blinked, caught off guard by the number. "Fifteen hundred? That's… that's a whole division, Sico."
"I know."
"You expecting a full-scale war?"
"I don't expect it," Sico said, his voice tightening. "I feel it. The Brotherhood's been circling Fort Strong. Not just a flyover or two — they're watching it. Scoping it out. I saw four Vertibirds out there in one morning. And they weren't just patrolling. They were testing the waters."
Preston's expression darkened. "You think they're going to take it?"
"I think they already tried," Sico said. "Or got close. We saw evidence on the way back. Debris, scorch marks, shell casings. Someone fought over that place, and I doubt it was raiders. You and I both know Fort Strong still holds what's left of the pre-war military armory there — missile stockpiles, launch platforms, and whatever else the Army buried underground when they locked the doors. If the Brotherhood gets their hands on that… it's over."
Preston stared at him for a long moment, absorbing the words.
"You think they'd use that against us?"
"I think the Brotherhood thinks they are the only ones who can protect the Commonwealth," Sico said, his tone razor-sharp. "And if we start gaining too much support, too many settlements unifying under the Minutemen banner, that'll threaten their whole idea of order. To them, we're chaos with a smile. Friendly neighbors with rifles. But make no mistake, Preston — if we become strong enough to lead, they'll try to shut us down before we can."
Preston exhaled heavily and looked out over Sanctuary. Families still gathered in small circles, whispering to each other. Children chased each other through the dirt paths. Men and women carried crates of food and ammunition, working together like gears in a machine.
"We've come so far," he said, almost to himself. "After Quincy… I didn't think the Minutemen would ever rebuild. And now here we are. Defending cities. Winning battles. Giving people hope again."
"And that's exactly why we need to be ready for what comes next," Sico said. "Because hope paints a target on your back."
Preston looked at him again, firmer this time. "Alright. I'll do it. I'll start sending out recruiters tonight — people who can talk to the settlements, reach out to wanderers, get the word out. We'll need more gear, more supplies, more everything. But I'll make it happen."
Sico nodded. "I'll speak with Sturges and the logistics team. We can ramp up weapon production and start training schedules for the new recruits. Focus first on experienced fighters — gunners, old caravan guards, anyone with combat experience. Then we'll filter in the settlers who want to join."
"And leadership?" Preston asked. "You want me to start identifying squad leaders, captains?"
"Yeah," Sico said. "We're going to need a real command structure. No more scattered outposts acting on their own. We need unified orders, secure comms, and coordinated defense lines. By the end of the month, I want a battle-ready force posted across every major road leading into the northern Commonwealth. We lose Greenetech or Sanctuary, we lose everything."
Preston was already pulling a notebook from his belt, scribbling down names and notes with a stub of a pencil. His movements were quick, efficient. The wheels in his head turning at full speed now.
"You'll have your fifteen hundred," he muttered. "Give me three weeks."
"Two," Sico said, without looking away. "We might not have three."
Preston didn't argue.
Later that evening, Sico stood alone on the elevated walkway above Sanctuary's central plaza, watching the town beneath him as it hummed with life. A pair of Minutemen technicians were working to repair a short-range antenna, sparks flying briefly into the evening air as their torches ignited. Children skipped past the marketplace where traders from Abernathy Farm and Tenpines Bluff were unloading crates of fruit and metal scraps. Somewhere, a radio was playing Diamond City's latest broadcast — Travis's awkward but endearing voice cutting through the static.
For a moment, things felt almost… normal.
Then Sarah climbed the stairs and joined him, arms folded across her chest. She had changed into a cleaner jacket, though the bandage on her cheek remained.
"Preston's already drawing up a plan," she said. "Mel's volunteered to oversee weapons distribution. MacCready wants to help train the new guys — he said, and I quote, 'if I have to die in a ditch, it better be beside someone who knows how to shoot.'"
Sico let out a quiet chuckle. "Good."
Sarah turned to him, leaning her elbows against the railing beside him.
"I meant what I said the other night. At the Red Rocket. We sent a message. But we need to be ready for the reply."
"I know," Sico said. "I don't think it's far off."
"You really think the Brotherhood will come for us?"
He didn't answer right away.
"I think they'll claim it's about the Institute," he finally said. "But it'll be about control. About who gets to rebuild the world. Them, with their steel and rules… or us, with our mess and people."
Sarah nodded slowly, eyes scanning the horizon. The sky had turned a pale purple as the sun dipped below the edge of the ruins.
"We'll fight," she said. "We've fought before. And we'll fight again."
"We just can't be the ones who start it," Sico murmured.
"No," she agreed. "But if they do… we finish it."
They stood there a little longer, watching the lights come on across Sanctuary — flickering lanterns, spotlights fixed to makeshift towers, and glowing bulbs along the walkways. A village turned fortress. A haven made home.
Eventually, Sarah pushed off the railing and gave him a nod. "I'll check in with the medical team. They've got a few wounded from the latest patrol who need supplies."
Sico gave a small wave as she descended the stairs and disappeared into the bustle below.
He remained where he was, staring north.
Toward Fort Strong.
Toward whatever storm was coming.
Then, finally, he turned and walked back down to the command cabin. Plans to make. People to prepare. A war to stop — or win.
________________________________________________
• 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:-