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 somewhere out in the Fog, the Children of Atom were carrying news back to their leader.
A week in the wasteland could feel like a month anywhere else.
A week in Far Harbor felt like the turning of an age.
The change was visible from nearly every approach to the town. Even through the morning fog, the new walls rose like something determined and permanent, steel and timber cutting sharp lines against the pale sky. The northern section had been sealed three days earlier. The western line was nearly complete. Only the final reinforcement work remained around the southern approach, where crews moved with the efficiency of people who no longer needed to be told what to do.
They simply did it.
Because it was theirs.
Because every rivet, every welded plate, every support beam was another promise made solid.
The harbor had always endured.
Now it was learning how to thrive.
The difference showed.
Patrols moved like clockwork along the perimeter. Freemason soldiers rotated shifts with Far Harbor volunteers, an arrangement that had seemed unlikely only weeks earlier. Now it felt natural.
Briggs had turned the defensive network into a machine.
Observation towers stood at regular intervals. Searchlights had been installed atop the main gate. Two Humvees rotated through exterior patrol routes, their engines becoming part of the settlement's daily soundtrack.
Enemy attacks had dropped to almost nothing.
Not because the island had grown kinder.
Because predators recognized strength.
A small pack of feral ghouls had wandered too close two nights ago. They had been eliminated before they reached rifle range.
A mirelurk scouting party had approached the eastern rocks. The second Humvee had intercepted them.
Even the local trappers had apparently decided that assaulting a heavily fortified settlement defended by professional soldiers was a poor career choice.
A rare outbreak of common sense.
Far Harbor appreciated it.
The farm had grown just as quickly.
What had begun as a muddy experiment was now unmistakably real. Rows stretched farther every day, green shoots emerging in disciplined lines beneath carefully maintained netting. Marla ruled over the fields with the same terrifying authority she brought to every aspect of life.
Several fishermen had attempted to offer agricultural advice.
Their survival was a testament to her restraint.
Children helped carry water.
Adults built additional storage racks.
Teddy Wright still considered himself chief physician to the vegetables.
He had recently diagnosed a tato with "mild leaf fatigue."
Marla had informed him that plants did not, in fact, suffer from exhaustion.
Teddy had disagreed.
Politely.
Firmly.
The matter remained unresolved.
Sico stood atop the western wall shortly after sunrise, watching the settlement awaken below.
Lanterns were being extinguished one by one.
Cooking fires were springing to life.
The smell of salt, damp earth, and breakfast drifted upward on the cold morning air.
Far Harbor no longer looked like a town barely holding itself together.
It looked like a frontier city.
A place people could build a future.
A place worth traveling toward.
Harris climbed the access ladder and joined him, binoculars hanging around his neck.
"Perimeter clear."
"Anything interesting?"
"Allen tried to fish off the new observation platform."
Sico glanced sideways.
"And?"
"He caught one boot and nearly drowned himself."
"Successful morning, then."
"By Allen's standards, remarkably so."
Below them, Allen could be seen arguing with a seagull over ownership rights to the boot.
The seagull appeared confident.
Allen appeared personally insulted.
The contest remained unresolved.
Briggs approached from the stairwell a few minutes later, carrying a clipboard that looked deeply offended by existence.
"The final west-side supports will be installed by tonight. South gate reinforcement tomorrow morning. After that, only internal finishing work."
"Good."
Briggs handed over the clipboard.
"The settlers from Sanctuary will need housing."
That had been on Sico's mind all week.
Far Harbor had room.
Land.
Protection.
But people needed more than walls and promises.
They needed homes.
Work.
A reason to stay.
And Far Harbor, for the first time in a very long time, had all three.
Sico closed the clipboard and looked out over the harbor.
Time to make the next move.
"Set up the long-range radio."
The communications shack had once been little more than a glorified storage room.
Now it housed one of the best radio arrays on the island.
Wires ran neatly along reinforced walls. A Republic technician named Larson had spent two days upgrading the system, muttering dark things about pre-war engineering and people who wrapped cables incorrectly.
Larson was an artist.
A very angry artist.
The radio crackled as Sico adjusted the frequency.
Static hissed.
A burst of interference.
Then a familiar voice came through, clear despite the hundreds of miles between them.
"Sanctuary command. Sarah Lyons speaking."
Avery, standing nearby, still found it remarkable how normal these conversations sounded.
As though speaking across an irradiated wasteland were merely an inconvenience.
"Sico here."
"Good morning. How's the island?"
"Standing."
"That's already better than most places."
Allen, who had somehow materialized in the doorway, nodded in solemn agreement while chewing toast.
Sarah continued.
"I assume you're calling for a reason beyond wanting to hear my lovely voice."
"I need settlers."
A brief pause.
"That was almost romantic."
"Try to contain yourself."
Avery snorted.
On the other end, Sarah laughed.
"How many?"
"One hundred."
That finally earned silence.
Not shocked silence.
Calculating silence.
The kind Sarah always produced when turning requests into logistics.
"That's substantial."
"Far Harbor is ready."
He looked through the shack's open doorway toward the expanding settlement.
"Wall is nearly complete. Agricultural output is in progress. Security is excellent. We need builders, craftsmen, farmers, teachers. People willing to start over."
"And you think Sanctuary will have volunteers."
"I know it will."
Sarah did not answer immediately.
He could almost picture her, leaning over the command table, considering options, running numbers in her head faster than most terminals.
Finally.
"We can do that."
Avery smiled.
Allen nearly dropped his toast.
Sarah went on.
"It'll need to be voluntary. Families only if they choose. I'll prioritize skilled labor from carpenters, masons, mechanics, agricultural specialists. Some general settlers too. People looking for a fresh start."
"Perfect."
"When do you need them?"
"As soon as transport can be arranged."
"Then I'll start organizing today."
Sico nodded, though she couldn't see it.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. You'll be feeding them."
"We have Marla."
There was a beat of silence.
"Oh. Then they'll survive."
"Mostly."
Allen leaned closer to the radio.
"Tell her I heroically caught breakfast."
"You lost a boot."
"It was tactical."
Sarah laughed again.
"Good to know Allen remains a national asset."
"International, really."
"Marginally."
Sico took the microphone back.
"How are things at Sanctuary?"
"Quiet. Which is suspicious. Nora's patrols are keeping Brotherhood scouts nervous. Preston is pretending he doesn't enjoy the strategic reports. Codsworth has apparently adopted three chickens."
"That sounds inevitable."
"It really was."
Her tone softened slightly.
"It's good what you're building out there."
Sico looked through the window at workers already beginning another day's labor.
"Yes."
"It matters."
"I know."
"Then bring them home."
The transmission clicked off.
For a moment, the shack was quiet except for the hum of vacuum tubes.
Avery folded her arms.
"One hundred people."
"At least."
Allen whistled.
"That's either wonderful or a complete disaster."
"Usually both," Sico said.
News traveled through Far Harbor faster than fire through dry brush.
By lunchtime, everyone knew.
By dinner, everyone had opinions.
Marla approved immediately.
"Good. More hands."
Briggs approved conditionally.
"More eyes to watch."
Harris approved enthusiastically.
"More people to appreciate my jokes."
"That seems unlikely," Briggs replied.
Allen approved for reasons no one fully trusted.
"Fresh audience."
Avery, however, understood what it really meant.
Expansion.
A future larger than survival.
Far Harbor would no longer merely endure winter.
It would outgrow it.
That evening, a town meeting gathered in the central square.
Lanterns swung gently overhead. The smell of stew and saltwater filled the air. Workers arrived still wearing tool belts and muddy boots. Fishermen leaned against crates. Children sat cross-legged in front.
Even Old Longfellow had wandered in, carrying enough whiskey to sterilize a hospital.
Avery stood first.
"Sanctuary will be sending volunteers. A hundred settlers, give or take."
Murmurs spread immediately.
Not fearful.
Excited.
Curious.
Hopeful.
Sico stepped forward once the noise settled.
"They'll need homes."
That got everyone's attention.
"Which means construction begins tomorrow."
A few groans.
Mostly from people whose backs had only recently forgiven them.
Allen raised a hand.
"Can I supervise?"
"No."
"Can I pretend to supervise?"
"That is, unfortunately, unavoidable."
Laughter rolled through the crowd.
Sico continued.
"We'll build housing east of the main square. Permanent foundations. Reinforced walls. Indoor heating. Water access. Enough room for expansion."
A fisherman in the back called out, "How many houses?"
"Twenty-five to start."
That earned impressed whistles.
Briggs stepped forward.
"Security will expand alongside construction. Additional patrol routes. New watch rotations. Nobody enters unverified."
Avery nodded.
"This is still Far Harbor. We don't lower standards."
Old Longfellow took a swig.
"Can we lower Allen's standards?"
"Impossible," Allen replied. "They're already underground."
Even Longfellow laughed at that.
The meeting continued well into the evening. Questions were asked. Assignments volunteered. Arguments began and ended. Plans formed.
By the time the lanterns burned low, Far Harbor had accepted the future.
Not reluctantly.
Eagerly.
Construction started at dawn.
Naturally.
Marla had been awake since what some experts believed was the previous century.
The new housing district took shape east of the existing homes, on slightly elevated ground with a clear view of both harbor and walls. Survey stakes were driven into the earth. Foundations were marked. Lumber arrived by truck.
And then organized chaos began.
Saws screamed.
Hammers thundered.
Voices called measurements back and forth.
Republic engineers worked alongside Far Harbor carpenters. Sanctuary-style modular designs were adapted for local weather. Roof pitches were steepened. Insulation doubled.
These houses would survive island winters.
Or the island would have to try harder.
Allen somehow acquired a clipboard.
No one had given it to him.
No one wanted it back.
He marched around offering deeply questionable advice.
"That beam should be at least… beam-sized."
A carpenter stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Allen considered.
"It means you're doing great."
The carpenter returned to work, visibly less certain than before.
Sico walked the site with Avery and Briggs, watching the skeletons of homes rise one frame at a time.
"It'll be crowded at first," Avery said.
"It always is."
"But good crowded."
"There's a difference."
She smiled.
"You're not wrong."
Nearby, children had begun assigning imaginary owners to unfinished houses.
"That one belongs to the lady with the dog."
"What dog?"
"The dog she'll probably get."
Reasonable.
Very reasonable.
Three days later, the western wall was completed.
Fully.
Entirely.
Briggs inspected every meter personally.
He found two bolts he disliked and one weld he described as "emotionally unsatisfactory."
The weld was redone immediately.
At sunset, the final Republic banner was raised over the western tower.
Far Harbor gathered below.
Applause erupted.
Long.
Proud.
Earned.
Avery stood with Sico on the platform as the flag snapped in the wind.
"Remember when we thought surviving winter was ambitious?"
"That was several lifetimes ago."
"It was last month."
"Time is flexible."
She laughed.
Below, Allen attempted to salute and nearly poked himself in the eye.
Patriotism was dangerous in his hands.
Two days later, the sea brought an army.
Not the kind Far Harbor had once feared.
Not raiders.
Not trappers.
Not something crawling out of the Fog with too many claws and too few good intentions.
This army arrived under Republic colors.
Under clear skies.
Under the watchful eyes of an entire town that had gathered long before dawn.
Word had spread the night before.
The convoy was coming.
Bridgekeepers.
Settlers.
Supplies.
Reinforcements.
A hundred new lives.
By sunrise, nearly half of Far Harbor stood along the docks or crowded the newly reinforced walls overlooking the harbor approach.
Children perched on crates.
Fishermen leaned against railings.
Marla had claimed a strategic position near the gate, arms folded, already evaluating how many of the arriving settlers could be immediately put to work.
Allen had attempted to bring a welcome banner.
The banner had somehow caught fire.
It was no longer invited.
Sico stood on the main dock beside Avery, Briggs, Harris, and Longfellow, watching the horizon through a thin veil of lingering mist.
The sea was calm.
Too calm, Allen had declared earlier.
"The ocean's plotting something."
"The ocean is always plotting something," Avery had replied.
"Fair point."
Then Harris spotted them first.
"Contact."
Everyone looked east.
Three large vessels emerged through the morning haze.
Republic transport ships.
Heavy steel hulls cutting cleanly through the water, engines rumbling deep enough to vibrate through the wooden pilings beneath their feet.
The Bridgekeepers had arrived.
And they had not come quietly.
The lead vessel flew the Republic flag from its mast, the crimson and steel snapping proudly in the cold ocean wind. Behind it, two sister ships followed in perfect formation.
Disciplined.
Efficient.
Intimidating.
Very much Sico's kind of people.
Avery let out a low whistle.
"Well."
Allen adjusted his coat dramatically.
"I'd just like everyone to know I was calm first."
"You are visibly shaking," Harris said.
"I'm excited, not afraid."
"Your knees disagree."
The ships closed the distance quickly.
Dockworkers moved into position.
Republic soldiers lined the pier.
Ropes were thrown.
Winches screamed.
Steel groaned against timber.
And then the first gangplank slammed into place.
The Bridgekeepers came down first.
Three of them.
Captain Elias Ward led the group, his heavy coat snapping behind him as he descended. His beard had collected enough sea spray to qualify as weather. Beside him walked Lieutenant Mara Quinn, expression sharp enough to cut armor plating, and Chief Engineer Dalton Hayes, who looked deeply offended by the existence of saltwater.
Sico stepped forward.
Ward saluted crisply.
"President."
Sico returned it.
"Captain."
Ward glanced around at the walls, the towers, the Humvees already visible behind the gate.
A slow smile tugged at his weathered face.
"You've been busy."
"I dislike idle time."
"That explains a great deal."
Avery liked him immediately.
That was usually a good sign.
Usually.
Behind the Bridgekeepers, the unloading began.
And Far Harbor stared.
Massive cargo crates were rolled down reinforced ramps one after another. Ammunition. Construction materials. Medical supplies. Agricultural equipment. Pre-fabricated housing components. Spare parts. Fuel drums. Water purification units.
Enough resources to change a town.
Again.
Dockworkers and Republic logisticians moved with practiced precision. No shouting. No confusion. Just motion.
Beautiful, terrifying motion.
Larson, who had wandered down purely to inspect communications equipment, looked like he might cry from happiness at the sight of properly labeled crates.
"Serial numbers," he whispered reverently.
"Everywhere."
Then came the soldiers.
Fifty Freemason troops disembarked in full combat gear, boots striking the gangplank in perfect rhythm. They marched onto Far Harbor soil like they had done it a thousand times before.
Because many of them had.
Disciplined lines.
Rifles secured.
Eyes scanning automatically.
The townsfolk fell silent as they passed.
Not fearful.
Impressed.
Children openly gawked.
One little boy tugged on Avery's sleeve.
"Can I have armor like that someday?"
"If you behave terribly well for several years."
"I can do that."
"That makes one of us," Allen muttered.
Briggs stepped forward immediately, already mentally reorganizing his patrol rotations.
He looked positively delighted.
Which, for Briggs, meant his eyebrow twitched slightly.
"Good posture," he observed.
"They're professionals," Sico replied.
"I approve."
High praise.
Then came the settlers.
A hundred men, women, and children.
Farmers.
Builders.
Mechanics.
Teachers.
Families carrying their lives in duffel bags, crates, and whatever else they could manage.
Some looked nervous.
Some looked exhausted.
Many simply looked hopeful.
That expression hit Avery harder than she expected.
Hope was a dangerous thing.
But here, increasingly, it was also a reasonable one.
A woman carrying a sleeping infant stepped onto the dock and froze, staring at the walls.
Her husband joined her, resting a hand gently against her back.
"We made it," he said softly.
She nodded.
"We really did."
Nearby, a little girl pointed excitedly at the harbor.
"Is that where we'll live?"
Her father smiled.
"It is now."
Marla was already scanning the newcomers like a hawk evaluating prey.
Sico suspected half of them would be planting crops by lunchtime.
The other half by dinner.
Then the vehicles arrived.
That got everyone's full attention.
The first Humvee rolled down the reinforced ramp with a heavy metallic growl, tires thundering against the dock planks.
Then a second.
Then a third.
Three Republic Humvees, freshly serviced and fully armed.
Their steel hulls gleamed beneath the morning sun.
Far Harbor's children immediately decided these were the greatest things ever created.
Allen wasn't far behind.
"Can I drive one?"
"No," Briggs, Avery, and Sico answered simultaneously.
Allen looked wounded.
"I wasn't asking all of you."
"You were getting the same answer from all of us."
Following the Humvees came two heavy transport trucks, loaded with additional supplies and towing modular equipment trailers.
The engines roared like distant thunder.
Longfellow took a long pull from his flask.
"Now that's a proper entrance."
The vehicles rolled through the main gate and took station exactly where Briggs had designated: directly inside Far Harbor's entrance, lined up in disciplined formation before the newly completed wall.
They looked magnificent.
And more importantly, practical.
The kind of machines that made bad decisions very expensive.
Ward gestured toward them.
"Three Humvees, two cargo trucks, full maintenance kits, and enough spare parts to keep them running unless someone named Allen gets involved."
Allen looked offended.
"I am mechanically gifted."
"Your fishing boot says otherwise," Harris replied.
The unloading continued for hours.
Crates stacked neatly in designated supply zones.
Fuel secured.
Medical supplies transferred to the clinic.
Weapons inventoried.
Food stores cataloged.
Marla nearly tackled a crate labeled AGRICULTURAL TOOLS.
It was wise to step aside.
Briggs wasted no time with the soldiers.
By midday, all fifty reinforcements had been integrated into Far Harbor's defensive structure.
Patrol schedules were rewritten.
Observation towers fully staffed.
Exterior scouting routes doubled.
Night rotations expanded.
The western approach now had permanent mobile coverage.
Briggs held a clipboard like a man reunited with a beloved weapon.
Harris leaned over his shoulder.
"You're smiling."
"I am not."
"Your left eye says otherwise."
"It is defective."
Avery watched the expanded patrol formations moving across the walls.
"What does this bring total military strength to?"
Sico calculated instantly.
"More than enough."
"That's a very comforting number."
"It usually is."
The settlers, meanwhile, were escorted to the newly prepared temporary camp.
The area lay between the main Far Harbor gate and the outer defensive wall, a broad stretch of secure ground nearly five hundred meters deep.
It had been chosen carefully.
Protected.
Accessible.
Large enough for rapid expansion.
Rows of Republic tents had already been erected in perfect lines.
Water stations installed.
Field kitchens assembled.
Portable sanitation dug and reinforced.
Blankets stacked.
Lantern posts raised.
Temporary, yes.
But dignified.
A starting point.
Not a holding pen.
The settlers entered cautiously at first.
Then with growing relief.
Children immediately began exploring.
Adults located assigned tents.
Medical staff moved through the camp, checking for illness, injury, or exhaustion.
A few people simply sat down and breathed.
Really breathed.
The kind of breath that only comes when a journey is finally over.
Sico walked through the camp that afternoon with Avery and Sarah's appointed convoy leader, Sergeant Naomi Price.
Price was compact, sharp-eyed, and moved with the controlled energy of someone who could organize a battlefield before breakfast.
"Transport went smoothly," she reported. "One broken axle near Salem, two raider sightings, no serious contact."
"Casualties?"
"None."
"Excellent."
She nodded toward the camp.
"Good people. Most volunteered within an hour of the announcement."
Avery looked around.
A carpenter was already discussing building materials with a Far Harbor foreman.
A mechanic had somehow found Briggs and was asking about vehicle maintenance schedules.
Three children were chasing each other around a water barrel while their mother pretended not to notice.
It already felt less like an arrival.
More like a beginning.
Marla appeared out of nowhere.
She did that.
It was unsettling.
"I've identified twenty-two agricultural workers, seven with substantial experience."
"Already?" Avery asked.
"I was delayed by breakfast."
"Of course."
Marla pointed at a broad-shouldered man unloading crates.
"That one can lift a Brahmin."
"How do you know?"
"He volunteered the information."
"Without prompting?"
"He seemed proud of it."
"Reasonable."
By late afternoon, the camp was fully operational.
Smoke rose from the field kitchens.
The smell of fresh stew drifted across the settlement.
Far Harbor residents wandered through, introducing themselves, offering directions, sharing tools, and, in Allen's case, sharing deeply unreliable local advice.
"Never trust a seagull."
A young settler blinked.
"Is that common wisdom here?"
"It is now."
The man wisely chose not to ask follow-up questions.
That evening, Avery and Sico stood atop the main gate, looking out over the temporary settlement.
Lanterns glowed in orderly rows.
Voices carried softly on the ocean breeze.
Laughter rose from one cluster of tents.
A guitar somewhere farther back.
Children, somehow, still had enough energy to run.
They always did.
"They fit faster than I expected," Avery said.
"People adapt."
"Especially when given a reason."
Below them, the three Humvees sat parked beside the trucks, their silhouettes dark against the lantern light.
Soldiers moved between patrol assignments with seamless efficiency.
Far Harbor's walls, once ambitious, now seemed almost inevitable.
A town that had once feared every shadow now projected strength in every direction.
Allen climbed up the stairs carrying two mugs and somehow spilling neither.
A historic achievement.
"I bring coffee."
Avery accepted one.
"Did you make this?"
"I supervised."
"Who actually made it?"
"Teddy."
Avery took a careful sip.
It was surprisingly excellent.
"Teddy continues to be deeply overqualified."
Allen leaned against the railing.
"Quite a day."
"Yes," Sico said.
Allen looked out at the camp.
"One hundred people."
"Exactly one hundred."
"That's a lot of people who haven't heard my best stories."
"Let's keep it that way."
"I feel oppressed."
Below, Briggs was already assigning night patrols to the newly arrived soldiers.
Not one movement wasted.
Not one order repeated.
The machine had simply become larger.
Stronger.
Captain Ward joined them a few minutes later, hands clasped behind his back.
"Settlement's holding well."
"It will," Sico said.
Ward studied the walls, the camp, the lights.
"I've seen frontier towns fail because they grew too slowly."
He glanced toward the settlers.
"And others fail because they grew too fast."
Avery folded her arms.
"Which one are we?"
Ward smiled.
"The smart kind."
That was reassuring.
Mostly.
As darkness settled fully over the island, the new soldiers took their posts.
Fifty additional rifles along the walls.
Fifty more pairs of eyes scanning the Fog.
Far Harbor slept safer that night than it ever had before.
The temporary camp remained lively long after sunset.
New neighbors meeting old ones.
Stories exchanged over bowls of stew.
Plans already taking shape.
A young carpenter named Daniel was sketching house improvements by lantern light.
A former schoolteacher was asking about available classroom space.
A mechanic had somehow acquired access to one of the trucks and looked happier than most people on their wedding day.
Marla had already recruited six volunteers for dawn fieldwork.
They had no idea what awaited them.
Avery almost warned them.
Almost.
Sico remained on the wall until well after midnight.
Watching.
Listening.
The soft murmur of a growing town.
The steady footsteps of patrols.
The distant crash of waves against the rocks.
Far Harbor had always been stubborn.
Now it was becoming powerful.
The Bridgekeepers had brought more than supplies.
More than soldiers.
More than vehicles.
They had brought momentum.
And momentum, once established, was one of the most dangerous forces in the world.
Somewhere out in the Fog, enemies were certainly taking notice.
The Children of Atom.
The trappers.
Perhaps even the Brotherhood.
Let them.
When they looked toward Far Harbor now, they would no longer see a struggling fishing village.
They would see walls.
Humvees.
Patrols.
A growing population.
A Republic foothold anchored in the heart of the island.
They would see permanence.
And permanence changed everything.
Below, a little girl from Sanctuary stepped out of her family's tent and stared up at the massive gate.
At the lights.
At the armed soldiers walking calmly above.
Then she smiled.
Safe.
Perhaps for the first time in a very long while.
That smile alone made the entire operation worthwhile.
Sico finally turned away from the parapet.
Tomorrow would bring assignments.
Housing construction.
Agricultural integration.
Training.
Logistics.
A hundred new lives settling into unfamiliar rhythms.
More work.
Always more work.
Good.
Far Harbor had spent too long merely surviving.
Now it had the luxury of becoming something greater.
And that, Sico thought as he descended the stairs into the lantern-lit streets, was exactly the kind of problem worth having.
______________________________________________
• 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:-