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!)
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The fog rolled slowly along the harbor wall again.
It slid against the beams of the floodlights like pale smoke, drifting and twisting before spilling back into the darkness beyond the rocks. From where they stood on the ramparts, the world outside Far Harbor still looked like an endless gray ocean.
Nick watched it for a few seconds more before shaking his head.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm starting to think this island isn't exactly on the tourism map."
Behind them the town had begun settling back into its uneasy routine.
Harbor guards were still posted along the wall, but the frantic tension from the gulper attack had faded into the familiar vigilance of people used to living under constant threat. Lanterns flickered across the docks below. A couple of fishermen had already begun dragging ropes across the pier to prepare for hauling the dead gulpers away from the shoreline before they attracted something worse.
One of the Freemason soldiers passed behind Sico carrying a crate of ammunition toward the watchtower.
Another stood further down the rampart scanning the fog with a scoped rifle.
Sico turned his gaze away from the fog and looked back at Avery.
"There is one more thing."
Avery tilted her head slightly.
"Yes?"
Sico spoke calmly.
"My team will need somewhere to stay."
Nick glanced sideways at him.
"Yeah," the detective added. "Preferably somewhere with walls that aren't currently being chewed on by radioactive amphibians."
Avery let out a small laugh.
"Fair request."
She glanced toward the town behind them.
Far Harbor climbed the rocky slope above the docks in a crooked patchwork of weathered wooden buildings, rusted metal roofs, and narrow boardwalks that twisted between them like uneven veins.
Most of the structures had clearly been repaired dozens of times over the years.
Some leaned slightly.
Others looked like they had been rebuilt entirely from salvaged ship parts and scrap lumber.
Still, warm light glowed through many of the windows.
It wasn't a pretty place.
But it was alive.
Avery nodded slowly.
"We do have a place."
Nick perked up slightly.
"Oh?"
"It's not exactly luxury," she added.
Nick waved a hand dismissively.
"After traveling through the Commonwealth for months, my standards are pretty flexible."
Avery smirked.
"Well then, you'll fit right in."
She pushed herself away from the railing and gestured toward the stairs leading down from the rampart.
"Come on."
Allen watched them go but didn't follow.
He remained at the wall, rifle in hand, still staring into the fog as if expecting something else to crawl out of it at any moment.
As Sico and Nick followed Avery down the creaking wooden stairs, the sounds of Far Harbor slowly grew louder.
Boots thumped against planks.
Generators hummed.
Someone somewhere was hammering a loose board back into place after the attack.
The smell of saltwater mixed with smoke and damp wood filled the air.
At the base of the wall, the town opened up around them.
Lanterns hung from wooden posts, casting warm pools of light across the muddy ground.
Several townspeople were already hauling equipment back to storage after the fight. One man dragged a heavy harpoon launcher toward a shack near the docks while another dumped a bucket of seawater over a bloodstained walkway.
Nick watched it all with quiet interest.
"Efficient bunch."
Avery nodded as she walked ahead of them.
"They have to be."
She stepped over a coil of rope lying across the ground.
"Out here, hesitation gets people killed."
Nick scratched the back of his neck.
"Yeah… I'm starting to notice that."
They moved deeper into town.
The buildings stood close together here, forming narrow alleys between crooked wooden walls. Wind rattled loose pieces of tin roofing overhead.
A couple of children peeked cautiously from a doorway as the group passed.
One of them pointed at the Freemason soldiers standing guard near the harbor gate.
Nick gave the kid a small wave.
The child disappeared instantly behind the door.
"Friendly crowd," Nick muttered.
Avery chuckled quietly.
"They're curious."
She turned down a slightly wider street that climbed gently uphill.
"This way."
Nick glanced around as they walked.
Far Harbor had the feeling of a place constantly fighting to stay alive.
Ropes hung from hooks.
Fishing nets were draped across drying racks.
Stacks of crates filled with tools and supplies lined the sides of several buildings.
Everything looked worn.
Everything looked repaired.
But everything worked.
Eventually Avery slowed and stopped in front of a two-story wooden structure near the edge of town.
The building looked older than most of the others nearby.
Its paint had long since faded away, leaving bare wood weathered gray by years of wind and salt.
One window on the upper floor was boarded over.
Another hung slightly crooked in its frame.
Nick studied it thoughtfully.
"Well," he said. "It's got walls."
Avery turned toward them.
"This place used to belong to a man named Harlan."
Her voice softened slightly.
"He lived here for years."
Nick nodded.
"What happened to him?"
Avery paused for a moment.
Then she answered quietly.
"He got sick."
Nick didn't ask what kind of sickness.
In the wasteland, that question rarely had pleasant answers.
Avery continued.
"There wasn't much we could do."
Her eyes drifted briefly toward the fog rolling beyond the harbor lights.
"Out here, people don't always survive long."
Nick nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
Avery reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small iron key.
The metal glinted faintly in the lantern light.
"No one's used the place since he passed."
She stepped forward and unlocked the door.
The hinges creaked softly as she pushed it open.
Inside, the building was dark.
But not ruined.
Moonlight filtered through the dusty windows, revealing a modest interior.
A wooden table sat near the center of the room.
Several chairs surrounded it.
A small stove stood in the corner beside a stack of firewood.
A staircase along the far wall led up to the second floor.
Nick stepped inside first and looked around slowly.
"Well…"
He tapped the table lightly.
"It's not the Ritz."
He glanced back toward Avery.
"But I've definitely slept in worse places."
Sico entered behind him.
His eyes moved quietly around the room, assessing the space with calm efficiency.
There were enough beds upstairs for several people.
A few cabinets still lined the kitchen wall.
Dust covered most surfaces, but the structure itself looked solid.
"Acceptable," he said simply.
Avery stepped inside and handed him the key.
"You can stay here."
Nick raised an eyebrow.
"Rent?"
Avery shook her head.
"No."
Nick blinked.
"…No?"
She shrugged casually.
"As long as you're willing to help out around town."
Nick glanced back toward Sico.
"Well that sounds like a pretty good deal."
Avery smiled slightly.
"Far Harbor takes care of the people who help defend it."
She gestured toward the harbor wall in the distance.
"And after tonight, you've already done that."
Nick walked over to the window and looked out.
From there he could see the glow of the floodlights pushing against the fog along the shoreline.
Freemason soldiers still stood guard beside the harbormen.
Beyond them, the mist stretched endlessly into darkness.
He turned back toward Avery.
"Appreciate it."
She nodded.
"You'll find some basic supplies in the cupboards."
"Water pump out back."
"And there should still be blankets upstairs."
Nick glanced toward the staircase.
"Luxury accommodations."
Avery laughed softly.
"Welcome to Far Harbor."
Sico held the key for a moment before slipping it into his coat pocket.
"Thank you."
Avery gave a small nod.
Then she stepped toward the door.
"If you're looking for Longfellow, remember what I said."
Nick leaned against the wall.
"The Last Plank."
"That's the place."
She paused in the doorway and looked back at them one more time.
"And if your team ends up helping around town…"
Her tone carried quiet sincerity.
"…we'll remember it."
Nick tipped his fedora slightly.
"Happy to pitch in."
Avery gave one final nod.
Then she stepped outside into the lantern-lit street.
The door closed behind her with a soft wooden thud.
For a moment the house was quiet.
Nick slowly walked toward the table and sat down in one of the chairs.
It creaked under his weight.
He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.
"Well," he said.
"First day on the island."
He gestured vaguely toward the harbor outside.
"Already fought giant mutant frog monsters."
He looked back toward Sico.
"Met a town leader."
"Got directions to a mountain full of synths."
"And somehow ended up with free housing."
He leaned his hat back slightly.
"…Not bad."
Upstairs, one of the Freemason soldiers was already checking the rooms to make sure everything was secure.
Another entered carrying a small lantern and set it on the table.
Warm light filled the room.
Nick stretched his legs out in front of him.
Then he glanced toward the door.
"So."
He smiled faintly.
"You still planning on visiting that bar tonight?"
Nick's question lingered in the quiet room for a moment.
The lantern flame flickered softly on the wooden table, sending long shadows across the dusty floorboards. Outside, the muffled sounds of Far Harbor continued drifting through the walls with boots on planks, distant voices, the slow groan of dock ropes pulling against the tide.
Sico stood near the window for a moment, looking out at the dim lights of the harbor.
Beyond them the fog still rolled endlessly along the shoreline.
It never stopped.
Not even for a moment.
Nick waited for his answer, rocking lazily in the chair.
Finally Sico spoke.
"No."
Nick blinked.
"…No?"
Sico turned slightly from the window.
"I want to rest."
His tone wasn't dramatic.
It was simply honest.
"Today has been long."
Nick snorted quietly.
"That's one way to describe it."
Sico continued calmly.
"We traveled from the Commonwealth."
"We sailed across open water."
"We arrived here."
"And then we defended the town from a gulper attack."
He folded his arms slightly.
"My men are exhausted."
Nick leaned back farther in his chair and rubbed his neck.
"Yeah, fair point."
Sico's gaze moved briefly toward the staircase where the soldiers were still checking the upstairs rooms.
"They need sleep."
Nick nodded.
"Can't argue with that."
Sico stepped away from the window and walked toward the center of the room.
The lantern light caught the edges of his coat as he moved.
He stopped near the table and spoke firmly.
"Gather the men."
One of the soldiers standing near the door straightened immediately.
"Yes, sir."
Within moments the small house filled with the quiet sound of boots on wooden steps as the Freemason soldiers began moving downstairs.
They entered in groups of two and three, spreading around the room while maintaining their disciplined posture.
Most of them looked tired.
Their uniforms still carried smears of mud and saltwater from the fight along the harbor wall.
One man still had a faint streak of gulper blood across the sleeve of his coat.
Another removed his helmet and wiped sweat from his forehead before standing at attention again.
Nick watched them gather with quiet interest.
He had seen organized groups before.
Militias.
Mercenaries.
Caravan guards.
But Sico's men moved with a kind of quiet professionalism that felt different.
They weren't restless.
They weren't loud.
They simply assembled and waited.
Within a minute the room was full.
Sico looked at them.
"All right."
The soldiers straightened slightly.
Nick leaned his elbows on the table and listened.
Sico spoke clearly.
"We will remain in Far Harbor for now."
That earned a few brief nods from the men.
He continued.
"This town allowed us shelter."
"They gave us a place to stay."
"And they trusted us during the attack."
His eyes moved across the group.
"That trust matters."
The soldiers listened carefully.
Sico gestured toward the door.
"Starting tomorrow, we will assist them."
Nick tilted his head slightly.
"Community service."
Sico ignored the comment.
"You will rotate duties."
"Some of you will assist the harbor guards."
"Patrol the walls."
"Help defend the town if another attack happens."
Several soldiers nodded immediately.
Sico continued.
"Others will help the townspeople directly."
"Ask what they need."
"Repairs."
"Supply runs."
"Escort work."
He paused briefly.
"We will make ourselves useful."
Nick chuckled softly.
"Not exactly the typical mercenary approach."
One of the soldiers near the staircase spoke up.
"What about the mission, sir?"
Sico looked at him.
"Our objective remains the same."
"Finding Kasumi."
"But rushing into the fog tonight would be foolish."
Several soldiers nodded in agreement.
Nick muttered quietly,
"Yeah, suicidal fog hikes aren't exactly my evening hobby either."
Sico continued.
"Tomorrow we locate Old Longfellow."
"He will guide us to Acadia."
The men acknowledged the order with calm nods.
But Sico wasn't finished.
"There is another task."
He pointed slightly toward the harbor outside.
"Our supplies are still on the boat."
Nick glanced toward the door.
"Ah."
Sico continued.
"That is not ideal."
He looked around the room.
"If something happens at the docks…"
"…we risk losing food."
"Ammunition."
"Medical equipment."
The soldiers immediately understood the concern.
Out here, supplies meant survival.
Sico gestured around the house.
"This building is safer."
"Thicker walls."
"Less exposed."
"So tonight," he continued, "we move everything here."
Nick straightened slightly.
"That's a lot of crates."
Sico nodded.
"Yes."
He looked at two of the soldiers standing near the door.
"You two organize the transport."
They nodded instantly.
"Yes sir."
Sico continued.
"Take a small team."
"Bring the crates from the patrol boats."
"Food first."
"Ammunition second."
"Medical supplies last."
Another soldier spoke up.
"What about weapons, sir?"
"Keep them with you."
Nick rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Smart."
Sico added one final instruction.
"I don't want anything left unattended at the docks."
The men nodded again.
"Understood."
Sico looked across the group.
"Once the supplies are secured, everyone rests."
Nick raised an eyebrow.
"You're not planning to stand guard yourself all night, are you?"
Sico shook his head slightly.
"The harbor guards already have patrol rotations."
"We will assist tomorrow."
Nick leaned back again.
"Well that's refreshing."
He gestured lazily toward the staircase.
"I was starting to think you were the kind of leader who never sleeps."
Sico ignored him again.
Instead he gave a final order.
"Move."
The soldiers immediately broke formation.
The room filled with quiet movement.
Two men grabbed lanterns.
Three others began organizing a small cart that had been leaning against the back wall.
Another soldier stepped outside to signal the team waiting near the harbor.
Nick watched the sudden efficiency with a faint smile.
"Your guys don't waste time."
Sico replied calmly.
"They understand priorities."
Outside the house the sounds of activity began picking up.
Boots crossed the wooden walkways.
Voices murmured quietly.
Within minutes a small team of Freemason soldiers headed down toward the docks to retrieve the crates from the patrol boats.
Nick stood up and stretched his arms over his head.
His spine cracked loudly.
"Ahhh…"
He rolled his shoulders.
"Now that's the sound of a man who's been on his feet too long."
Sico watched the soldiers leave before turning back toward the staircase.
Two of them were already carrying blankets down from the upper rooms.
Another had found a broom and was sweeping dust from the floor near the stove.
Nick chuckled.
"Your men clean too?"
Sico glanced at him.
"A clean space improves morale."
Nick shrugged.
"Fair enough."
The detective walked slowly toward the window again.
Outside he could see the lanterns along the harbor moving as the supply team approached the patrol boats.
Shadows shifted across the docks.
Crates were already being lifted onto carts.
Nick rested one elbow against the window frame.
"You know…"
He looked back at Sico.
"For a place full of fog monsters and radioactive cultists…"
"…this island's starting to feel oddly organized."
Sico simply replied,
"Survival demands organization."
Nick grinned slightly.
"Yeah."
He watched the harbor again.
The Freemason soldiers moved steadily across the docks, carrying crates from the patrol boats toward the town.
Food supplies.
Boxes of ammunition.
Medical kits.
Piece by piece, their small expedition was relocating into the quiet house Avery had given them.
Inside, the lantern flame flickered softly.
Upstairs, the creaking of bed frames suggested that some of the soldiers were already preparing places to sleep.
The long day was finally catching up with everyone.
Nick turned back toward the room.
"So."
He pointed lazily toward the staircase.
"Sleeping arrangements?"
Sico answered simply.
"Rest where you want."
Nick chuckled.
"Democracy."
He walked toward the stairs.
Halfway up he paused and looked back down.
"Tomorrow we meet the drunk island guide."
Sico nodded once.
"Yes."
Nick smirked.
"Should be interesting."
He continued up the stairs.
Soon the quiet creak of floorboards above suggested he had claimed one of the beds.
The quiet creak of floorboards above suggested Nick had claimed one of the beds.
Downstairs the lantern still burned softly on the table, casting its warm yellow glow across the worn wooden walls of the small house.
For a while, Sico remained where he stood.
He listened.
The sounds of Far Harbor continued drifting through the night beyond the window.
Distant footsteps along the boardwalks.
A fisherman shouting something unintelligible toward the docks.
The steady humming of the fog condensers mounted along the harbor wall.
Outside, the fog never truly faded.
It simply shifted.
Rolled.
Pressed against the fragile barrier of floodlights and machines that Far Harbor relied on to keep the worst of it at bay.
Eventually the door creaked open.
Two of the Freemason soldiers entered, carrying the first crates from the docks.
Wood scraped softly across the floor as they placed the heavy box near the wall.
"Food supplies, sir," one of them said quietly.
Sico nodded once.
"Good."
More crates followed over the next half hour.
Boxes of preserved rations.
Medical packs wrapped in wax cloth.
Metal cases filled with ammunition.
The soldiers stacked them neatly along the far wall of the house, organizing everything with quiet precision.
No one complained.
No one spoke louder than necessary.
They simply worked.
Outside the window, the lanterns along the harbor moved slowly as more soldiers walked back and forth between the docks and the house.
Nick eventually came back downstairs halfway through the process, rubbing one eye and holding his hat loosely in one hand.
"…You people don't waste time."
Sico glanced at him briefly.
"Better to finish the task now."
Nick leaned against the wall and watched the crates being carried in.
"Fair enough."
Another crate landed on the floor with a dull thud.
One of the soldiers wiped sweat from his forehead and muttered quietly,
"That should be the last of the ammunition."
Sico nodded again.
"Good."
Nick looked toward the stacked supplies.
"You planning a small war?"
"Preparation prevents disaster."
Nick shrugged.
"Can't argue with that logic."
Eventually the final crate was brought inside.
The soldiers secured the door.
The lanterns were dimmed.
And slowly, one by one, the exhausted men drifted upstairs to rest.
The house settled into silence.
Outside, the fog rolled endlessly along the harbor wall.
Morning came quietly.
Not with sunlight.
Not with warmth.
But with a gray, dim glow that seeped slowly through the windows like diluted milk.
Sico opened his eyes.
For a moment he lay still, listening.
The house was quiet.
Several soldiers were still sleeping in the beds upstairs.
Others had already risen and were moving softly around the building.
He sat up.
The wooden bed creaked faintly beneath him.
When he looked toward the window, he immediately noticed something.
The fog was still there.
Thick.
Heavy.
It blanketed everything beyond the town like an endless gray ocean.
Even though it was clearly morning, the sun barely reached the streets of Far Harbor.
Instead the town lived under a constant haze.
Sico stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, the narrow street looked damp and cold.
Lanterns were still burning along several buildings even though the day had begun.
And then he saw the machines.
Large metal contraptions positioned around the perimeter of the settlement.
Pipes.
Fans.
Condensation towers humming steadily.
They were constantly pulling the fog inward through metal grates and filtering it through some strange mechanical process.
Every few seconds one of the machines hissed loudly, releasing a burst of vapor.
Sico studied them carefully.
Fog condensers.
Without them, the town would likely be swallowed whole.
Even from inside the house he could hear the low mechanical rumble they produced.
Behind him, one of the soldiers spoke quietly.
"Strange place."
Sico turned slightly.
The soldier had just come downstairs, pulling on his coat.
"Yes."
The man walked toward the window and looked outside as well.
"Feels like the fog never leaves."
Sico nodded.
"It doesn't."
They stood there for a moment watching the machines work.
Then footsteps approached outside.
Someone walking across the wooden porch.
The knock on the door was firm but polite.
Three quick taps.
Sico moved toward the entrance.
When he opened the door, the cold morning air drifted into the house along with the smell of saltwater.
Standing on the porch was Avery.
She wore the same long coat from the night before, though now it looked slightly damp from the mist.
Her breath formed faint clouds in the cold air.
"Morning," she said.
Sico stepped aside slightly.
"Come in."
She entered and glanced around the room.
Her eyes immediately landed on the stacks of crates along the wall.
"Well," she said with a faint smile.
"I see your men finished moving everything."
Sico closed the door behind her.
"Yes."
Avery walked closer to the supplies, inspecting them casually.
Her expression carried a hint of curiosity.
"Some of my people saw your soldiers bringing these in last night."
She tapped one of the wooden crates lightly.
"Quite the collection."
Nick's voice drifted down from the staircase.
"Morning, sunshine."
He descended slowly, adjusting his hat.
Avery glanced up at him.
"Morning."
Nick rubbed his chin and looked at the stacks of supplies.
"Ah."
He smirked slightly.
"I'm guessing this visit isn't just a friendly hello."
Avery chuckled quietly.
"No."
She turned back toward Sico.
"I actually came to ask about something."
Sico waited.
"What is it?"
Avery folded her arms slightly.
"I was wondering if we could make a trade."
Nick raised an eyebrow.
"A trade?"
She nodded.
"Yesterday when your men were unloading supplies…"
"…some of my people noticed something."
Nick leaned against the railing of the staircase.
"Let me guess."
"Lots of ammunition."
Avery smiled faintly.
"Exactly."
She looked back at Sico.
"Far Harbor has been dealing with more attacks lately."
Her tone became more serious.
"Gulpers."
"Fog crawlers."
"Anglers."
Nick muttered quietly,
"Lovely wildlife."
Avery continued.
"The gulper attack last night didn't help."
She gestured toward the harbor wall.
"We burned through a lot of ammunition defending the town."
Sico nodded slowly.
"I see."
Avery looked directly at him.
"We're running low."
Nick crossed his arms.
"So you want to buy some bullets."
"Something like that."
She glanced again toward the crates.
"We don't need much."
"Just enough to replenish what we lost."
Sico asked calmly,
"What do you offer in exchange?"
Avery seemed ready for the question.
"Supplies."
"Fresh fish."
"Harbor equipment."
She paused briefly.
"Information."
Nick grinned.
"Information's always valuable."
Avery shrugged slightly.
"And we can also provide assistance navigating the island."
Nick tilted his head.
"That part sounds useful."
Sico walked slowly toward the stacked crates.
He rested a hand lightly on one of them.
Inside were rows of carefully packed ammunition boxes.
More than enough to supply his men for weeks.
He turned back toward Avery.
"How much do you need?"
Avery considered the question for a moment.
"Enough to restock the wall defenses."
Nick whistled softly.
"That's not exactly pocket change."
Avery nodded.
"I know."
Her voice softened slightly.
"But the truth is…"
"…if another large attack hits the harbor tonight…"
"…we may not have enough firepower to hold the wall."
The room grew quiet.
Nick glanced toward Sico.
Then back at Avery.
"Well," he muttered.
"That's not great news."
Avery held Sico's gaze steadily.
"We're not asking for charity."
"We'll trade fairly."
Sico remained silent for a moment.
Through the window he could still see the fog condensers hissing steadily as they worked.
The machines.
The fragile walls.
The tired fishermen.
Far Harbor was surviving by a thin margin.
Finally he spoke.
"We can trade."
Avery's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Thank you."
Nick smiled faintly.
"Community relations."
Sico gestured toward the crates.
"My men will prepare what you need."
Avery nodded gratefully.
"Far Harbor won't forget it."
Nick leaned casually against the staircase railing.
"Well," he said.
"Looks like we're making friends already."
Outside the window, the fog continued rolling across the island and the machines of Far Harbor kept fighting it back.
______________________________________________
• 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:-