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 deeper, High Confessor Tektus was already preparing the next line of defense.
The Nucleus trembled with war.
The entire submarine complex groaned beneath the violence spreading through its corridors while alarms screamed endlessly through concrete tunnels soaked in smoke, radiation dust, and blood. Emergency lights flickered red against rusted walls as gunfire echoed through the underground sectors hard enough to vibrate old pipes running across the ceilings.
The battle outside had been chaos.
Inside became pressure.
Claustrophobic.
Relentless.
Every corridor narrowed the fighting into brutal killing lanes where people saw each other clearly before pulling triggers.
And slowly despite everything, Sico's forces kept advancing.
Not because the Children of Atom lacked courage.
Nobody could accuse them of that anymore.
They fought with terrifying conviction.
They died screaming prayers.
They launched counterattacks through radiation clouds and burning hallways even after entire squads disappeared beneath rifle fire.
But faith alone could not fully close the gap between scavenged weapons and organized military equipment.
That truth became impossible to ignore the deeper the battle moved into the Nucleus.
A Children defender leaned around a barricade built from overturned maintenance lockers and old reactor shielding plates, firing a rusted combat rifle wildly down Corridor Three while sparks jumped around him from incoming rounds.
The Far Harbor soldiers advancing toward him wore reinforced combat armor scavenged from years of preparation and organized supply stockpiles.
Their rifles stayed accurate.
Their optics worked.
Their suppressive fire coordinated.
The defender managed three shots before precise rifle bursts tore through the barricade and dropped him backward into the smoke.
Another cultist immediately replaced him.
Then another after that one died too.
Because the Children never stopped fighting.
But they were losing ground now.
Meter by bloody meter.
Ward led the push through the eastern maintenance wing while soldiers advanced in rotating formations behind portable ballistic shields dragged through the corridors by exhausted infantry teams.
"Move!"
Gunfire exploded ahead again.
A Children machine gun hidden behind a reinforced doorway hammered the corridor hard enough to spark fragments from concrete walls and exposed pipes.
The Far Harbor soldiers dropped immediately behind cover.
One young rifleman breathing heavily through his gas mask glanced toward the hallway ahead.
"How the hell do we break that?"
The veteran beside him answered calmly while pulling a fragmentation grenade from his vest.
"Same way we break everything else."
He counted silently.
Then threw.
The grenade disappeared through the smoke.
A second later the explosion slammed through the corridor with deafening force.
The machine gun stopped.
Ward surged forward immediately with the breach team behind him.
Inside the shattered defensive room, two Children defenders lay motionless beside the ruined weapon emplacement while another wounded cultist still tried weakly reaching for a radiation pistol through the blood pooling beneath him.
A Far Harbor soldier kicked the weapon aside instinctively.
The wounded man looked up through cracked goggles.
"You cannot stop Atom."
His voice sounded wet.
Weak.
But sincere.
The soldier staring down at him hesitated for half a second.
Then another burst of gunfire erupted deeper in the corridor.
The moment vanished instantly.
"Keep moving!"
The assault rolled forward again.
The defenders Tektus organized were disciplined.
Fanatical.
Prepared.
But many of them were using salvaged weapons older than the soldiers firing against them. Their armor varied wildly from scavenged military plating to leather coats layered beneath radiation robes. Ammunition shortages already started appearing deeper inside the Nucleus as defenders stripped magazines from fallen fighters during retreat after retreat.
Meanwhile the Far Harbor troops kept bringing structure into the chaos.
Medics rotated wounded rearward through secured corridors.
Engineers cleared traps methodically.
Machine-gun teams established suppression points before infantry advances.
Every conquered intersection became another fortified foothold.
And slowly the Children began losing the ability to control the battlefield.
Not all at once.
But enough.
Sico moved through a partially flooded reactor corridor while Geiger counters clicked violently around him. Steam hissed from ruptured pipes overhead while sparks rained intermittently from damaged electrical conduits swinging above the tunnel.
Bodies littered the hallway.
Children defenders mostly.
A few Far Harbor soldiers too.
One medic crouched beside a wounded infantryman propped against the wall while trying to stop blood pouring from a leg wound torn open by shrapnel.
"You're okay."
The soldier laughed weakly inside his respirator.
"That's bullshit."
"Yeah," the medic admitted while tightening the tourniquet harder. "But stay alive anyway."
Nearby, another squad pushed through a blast-door checkpoint Tektus had reinforced using scrap steel and reactor shielding plates welded into makeshift barricades.
The defenders behind it fought viciously.
Radiation rifles flashed green through smoke-filled gaps while homemade explosives detonated inside the confined corridors hard enough to shake dust from the ceilings.
Still the Far Harbor troops breached it.
An engineer charge blew the center barricade inward.
Then the infantry flooded through.
Rifles first.
Shotguns after.
Close-range fighting erupted instantly in the checkpoint chamber.
A Children defender swung a hooked blade into a soldier's shoulder before getting shot twice in the chest at almost touching distance.
Another cultist emptied an entire magazine through the smoke until return fire tore through the thin metal cover protecting him.
The battle became savage inside enclosed rooms.
No maneuvering.
No grand tactics.
Just exhausted human beings killing each other across distances short enough to smell blood through respirator filters.
Farther inside the complex, High Confessor Tektus listened to the worsening reports with growing fury.
The command chamber no longer resembled organized leadership.
It looked like a bunker collapsing under pressure.
Smoke drifted beneath flickering emergency lights. Wounded defenders filled the corners of the chamber while acolytes scrambled between ammunition crates and field radios trying desperately to maintain communication with sectors already falling silent.
A younger defender stumbled into the chamber breathing hard.
"Eastern maintenance wing breached!"
Another voice followed almost immediately from the radios.
"Reactor corridor lost!"
"South junction requesting reinforcements!"
Tektus slammed his fist against the operations table hard enough to rattle loose shell casings scattered across it.
"How are they advancing this quickly?"
Nobody answered immediately.
Because everybody knew the answer already.
The invaders had better weapons.
Better armor.
Better battlefield coordination.
And worst of all, they had armor discipline the Children simply couldn't match inside prolonged corridor warfare.
Tektus hated it.
Not merely strategically.
Spiritually.
To him, it represented everything wrong with the outside world.
Machines.
Steel.
Organization replacing devotion.
Yet even while the defenders fell backward deeper into the Nucleus, they still made the attackers pay heavily for every corridor.
One squad of Children fighters deliberately sealed themselves inside a reactor access hallway with explosive charges after Far Harbor infantry breached the entrance sector.
When the soldiers pushed through the corridor, the defenders detonated the tunnel.
The explosion collapsed half the passage in fire, steam, and concrete.
Three Far Harbor soldiers disappeared instantly beneath the collapse.
Another stumbled out burning.
Screaming.
The Children defenders died too.
But that no longer mattered to them.
Not individually.
Tektus had convinced them dying here meant transcendence.
And many truly believed it.
Back near the western service tunnels, Mercer coordinated the advancing platoons while leaning against a bullet-scarred wall covered in old radiation warning signs.
"We're gaining too much ground for them to stabilize."
A nearby squad leader checked his ammunition count.
"Still feels like they're everywhere."
"Because they are."
The deeper sectors of the Nucleus twisted like a maze beneath the cliffs.
Submarine maintenance tunnels connected into reactor corridors which connected into storage chambers and old naval passageways dating back decades before the Great War.
The Children used every inch of it.
One squad would clear a hallway only for gunfire to erupt behind them from maintenance hatches hidden inside the walls.
Another secured an intersection before cultists emerged from overhead crawlspaces throwing radiation grenades downward.
The defenders knew the layout intimately.
But increasingly, familiarity alone wasn't enough.
A Children ambush team positioned inside an old torpedo storage chamber opened fire on advancing infantry using gamma guns and salvaged assault rifles.
Green flashes illuminated the chamber through thick smoke while radiation readings spiked violently.
The Far Harbor soldiers pulled back briefly.
Then a Sentinel-assisted breach cannon mounted outside the service entrance blasted directly through the chamber wall.
The explosion obliterated half the defensive position instantly.
The surviving defenders staggered through dust and smoke only to meet concentrated rifle fire waiting on the other side.
The chamber fell within minutes.
One exhausted Far Harbor rifleman looked around afterward at the ruined defenders scattered between old submarine components and flooded floor drains.
"They never had a chance in here."
The older veteran beside him shook his head slowly.
"No."
Then after a pause:
"But they still fought anyway."
That part lingered.
Because the Children of Atom never truly broke psychologically.
Even losing ground.
Even bleeding heavily.
Even getting outmatched by superior equipment.
They kept resisting with horrifying determination.
One elderly cultist fired a revolver from behind a broken generator until rifle rounds tore through the machinery around him.
A teenage defender triggered a radiation charge inside a ventilation shaft rather than surrender the position.
A wounded woman missing most of her left hand still carried ammunition deeper toward the defensive sectors before collapsing from blood loss against a reactor wall.
Faith held them upright long after exhaustion should've crushed them.
But steel kept winning the corridors.
Sico pushed deeper toward the central submarine access sectors while the assault force gradually carved the Nucleus apart section by section.
Everywhere the same pattern repeated now.
The Children established a defensive line.
Far Harbor suppression teams pinned them.
Engineers breached the position.
Then infantry stormed through using superior armor and coordinated fire discipline.
Messy.
Costly.
But effective.
One major defensive barricade near the lower reactor junction had taken Tektus's people nearly an hour to construct using reinforced plating, maintenance equipment, and welded blast shields positioned across the corridor.
The Far Harbor soldiers destroyed it in less than seven minutes.
A Sentinel support cannon fired through the tunnel opening first.
Then breach charges blew apart the remaining structure.
Afterward rifle squads surged through the smoke while machine guns suppressed every visible firing point.
The Children defenders fought viciously inside the collapsing barricade line.
Some refused to retreat even after ammunition ran dry.
One cultist swung a metal pipe at advancing soldiers before getting struck down by rifle fire.
Another crawled across broken concrete trying to ignite explosives manually before a shotgun blast stopped him cold.
The defense collapsed anyway.
Too much firepower.
Too much pressure.
Tektus received the report moments later.
"Lower junction lost."
Silence filled the chamber afterward.
Not because anyone lacked words.
Because people were beginning to understand the truth.
The Nucleus might actually fall.
That realization changed faces.
Changed breathing.
Changed the atmosphere itself.
Some defenders looked frightened now instead of merely determined.
Others became even more fanatical.
One acolyte standing near the chamber entrance whispered shakily:
"High Confessor… what if Atom wills this?"
Tektus turned toward him slowly.
The fury in his eyes silenced the room instantly.
"Atom does not abandon the faithful."
The acolyte lowered his gaze immediately.
Tektus stepped toward the operations table again while distant gunfire echoed through the facility around them.
"This sanctuary survives because we make it survive."
Another explosion rattled the chamber walls.
Dust drifted from the ceiling.
Closer this time.
Too close.
Back in the advancing assault corridors, the Far Harbor troops finally reached the upper submarine access sectors near the core of the Nucleus.
The fighting intensified immediately.
These defenders weren't merely delaying anymore.
They were protecting the sacred center itself.
Machine-gun nests hidden behind armored blast partitions opened fire down narrow stairwells while sniper teams positioned along elevated catwalks targeted officers and medics specifically.
One Far Harbor lieutenant collapsed backward after taking a round through the visor seal of his gas mask.
The soldier beside him barely caught the body before it hit the stairs.
"Sniper!"
Return fire erupted instantly.
The sniper died seconds later beneath concentrated shots from three rifles.
But the advance slowed again.
Not stopped.
Never fully stopped anymore.
But slowed.
Sico moved up the stairwell beside another breach squad while checking the ammunition remaining in his rifle.
Lower than he liked.
Everybody's supplies were running thinner now.
The battle had gone on for hours.
Smoke coated the walls.
Blood coated the floors.
The Nucleus no longer resembled a sanctuary.
It resembled a dying machine full of ghosts and gunfire.
One wounded Children defender leaned against the wall near the stairwell clutching a hole in his abdomen while trying weakly to raise a radiation pistol toward the advancing soldiers.
A Far Harbor rifleman aimed at him automatically.
The wounded defender stared through cracked goggles.
"You don't understand this place."
The rifleman hesitated.
Then lowered the weapon slightly.
The cultist coughed blood onto his robes.
"Atom sees all division eventually."
Then he died there against the wall before anyone answered him.
The soldiers moved on.
Because there wasn't time for philosophy anymore.
Only momentum.
And momentum belonged increasingly to Sico's forces now.
Not because they were fearless.
Not because they were untouched.
They looked exhausted.
Burned out.
Radiation-sick beneath the masks.
But their equipment kept functioning.
Their formations held.
Their weapons stayed lethal.
Meanwhile the Children defenders were beginning to run out of everything except faith.
And faith alone could not stop rifles, armor, explosives, and organized infantry forever.
The deeper Sico's forces pushed into the Nucleus, the more the entire submarine complex felt like it was dying around them.
Not collapsing.
Dying.
There was a difference.
The old military installation groaned constantly now beneath the weight of explosions, gunfire, ruptured machinery, and spreading fire. Steam hissed through broken pipes overhead. Emergency lights flickered weakly between red and darkness while radiation alarms wailed from damaged control panels somewhere deeper inside the facility.
Every corridor smelled the same now.
Smoke.
Burned metal.
Blood.
And underneath all of it, that sharp radioactive bitterness sitting permanently in the back of the throat even through respirator filters.
The Far Harbor assault force kept advancing anyway.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Methodically.
The upper submarine access sectors had turned into a brutal maze of reinforced naval corridors, reactor maintenance tunnels, flooded utility chambers, and defense checkpoints welded together by decades of scavenging and Children of Atom modifications.
Every intersection fought them.
Every stairwell bled them.
But the momentum still belonged to Sico.
Not cleanly.
Not easily.
But undeniably.
Ward's platoon breached another defensive position near a collapsed torpedo-loading corridor after engineers detonated the sealed bulkhead with shaped charges.
The explosion blew smoke and sparks through the hallway hard enough to shake rust from the ceiling.
"GO!"
Far Harbor infantry surged through immediately behind the blast shields.
The Children defenders waiting inside opened fire almost instantly.
Green radiation flashes erupted through the smoke while automatic rifle fire tore chunks from the corridor walls. One Far Harbor soldier went down before fully clearing the doorway, his body collapsing halfway through the twisted remains of the breached bulkhead.
The rest pushed through him anyway.
Because stopping inside a doorway meant everyone behind you died too.
The corridor became carnage.
Shotguns thundered at almost touching distance.
One cultist screamed Atom scripture while charging forward with a knife and radiation burns covering half his face before rifle rounds folded him backward into the steam-filled darkness.
Another defender fired from behind a stack of rusted torpedo casings until a grenade detonated beside him hard enough to flip the metal rack onto its side.
The firefight lasted less than two minutes.
Then it was over.
Like most of the defensive positions now.
Violent.
Short.
Bloody.
And increasingly hopeless for the defenders holding them.
Ward lowered his rifle slowly afterward while breathing heavily inside the mask.
The squad around him looked terrible.
Armor blackened by smoke.
Visors cracked.
Blood streaks across chest plates and gloves that nobody even noticed anymore.
One young rifleman leaned against the wall reloading with trembling fingers.
"How many more damn barricades do they have?"
Nobody answered him immediately.
Because nobody knew.
Mercer's voice crackled through the radio instead.
"Central sectors nearly secured. Resistance pulling toward lower command levels."
Ward exchanged a look with one of the veterans nearby.
That wasn't good news.
Not because resistance was weakening.
Because it meant the Children were consolidating.
Gathering everyone left alive into one final defensive line.
And everybody understood what that meant.
The real last stand was ahead.
Sico moved through the advancing central corridor with another breach group while medics dragged wounded soldiers rearward through smoke and flickering emergency light.
One medic passed him supporting a soldier whose left arm hung useless beneath blood-soaked combat armor.
The wounded man's Geiger counter still clicked steadily even while he stumbled.
"You staying conscious?" the medic asked.
The soldier gave a weak laugh.
"Trying."
"Keep trying."
Then they disappeared back into the haze toward the rear medical sectors.
Ahead, the corridors widened slightly as the assault force entered older naval sections buried deeper beneath the cliffs.
The architecture changed here.
Less improvised settlement.
More original submarine infrastructure.
Heavy blast doors.
Steel catwalks.
Massive reactor pipes running across the ceilings.
Old military warning signs barely visible beneath layers of rust and Children of Atom scripture painted over the walls.
The deeper they went, the older the world felt.
Like they were walking backward into the corpse of another civilization.
And then the distant sound reached them.
Not gunfire.
Not alarms.
Something deeper.
Metal.
Huge metal.
Sico heard it first through the constant battlefield noise.
A low mechanical groan reverberating through the structure somewhere ahead.
Mercer noticed him pause slightly.
"You hear that?"
Sico nodded once.
"Docking chamber."
The realization spread quickly through the nearby soldiers.
They were close now.
Very close.
The submarine sectors.
The warheads.
The heart of the Nucleus itself.
The Children of Atom knew it too.
Because the resistance ahead intensified immediately.
The next defensive line erupted in gunfire the second the Far Harbor troops entered the lower approach corridor leading toward the central launch chamber.
Heavy machine guns hidden behind armored partitions opened fire down the narrow hallway hard enough to force the entire assault group flat against the floor.
Bullets screamed overhead.
Concrete fragments exploded from the walls.
One soldier cried out after rounds tore through his calf.
"Pinned!"
Ward slid behind a rusted maintenance column while checking the corridor ahead.
"They've got overlapping guns."
A veteran beside him peeked around cover briefly.
Bad idea.
A sniper round cracked past his visor instantly.
"Jesus Christ!"
These defenders were better organized than the previous lines.
Calmer.
More disciplined.
Not desperate fighters delaying for time anymore.
These were the final loyalists Tektus trusted most.
And they intended to die here.
Sico keyed the radio immediately.
"Suppress the partition nests."
Two machine-gun teams moved forward under cover while engineers dragged portable ballistic plating into position through the corridor.
The defenders opened fire harder immediately.
Tracer rounds filled the hallway.
One engineer stumbled backward after taking a round through the shoulder plate.
Another soldier grabbed him before he collapsed fully.
"Keep moving!"
Grenades rolled toward the defensive line.
Explosions hammered the corridor.
Then the Far Harbor suppression teams answered with concentrated fire powerful enough to shake the walls themselves.
The machine-gun nests faltered briefly.
That was enough.
"Push!"
The breach squads surged forward.
Close-range fighting exploded again inside the partition sectors where Children defenders waited behind reinforced blast shields and welded barricades built from submarine components.
The firefight turned savage instantly.
One cultist fired point-blank into an advancing soldier before getting smashed sideways by shotgun blasts.
Another defender climbed onto the barricade screaming Atom prayers while emptying a radiation pistol wildly into the corridor until rifle fire tore him backward into the smoke.
The Far Harbor troops kept coming.
Better armor.
Better rifles.
Better coordination.
The difference showed brutally here.
The Children fought like zealots.
But zealotry couldn't fully compensate for cracked armor plates and failing ammunition reserves against disciplined assault formations.
One defender tried reloading behind cover only to discover his magazine empty.
The look crossing his face lasted less than a second before incoming rounds cut through the barricade.
The position collapsed moments later.
Then another after that.
Then another.
Slowly.
Surely.
The Far Harbor assault force punched deeper toward the heart of the Nucleus.
And finally— after hours of fighting through smoke, blood, and radiation, they reached it.
The final defense line.
The corridor opened suddenly into something enormous.
For a brief moment several soldiers actually stopped moving.
Not because of gunfire.
Because of what stood ahead.
The submarine chamber.
The ceiling towered high overhead like the inside of a buried cathedral built from rusted steel and old-world military engineering. Massive support pillars rose beside dark maintenance scaffolding while emergency floodlights flickered weakly through drifting smoke and steam.
And there resting beneath layers of rust, radiation stains, and Children of Atom markings, stood the submarine.
Gigantic.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
The ballistic missile submarine dominated the chamber like the skeleton of some dead sea monster dragged beneath the earth and worshipped for centuries afterward.
Its hull stretched through the dock basin beneath hanging catwalks and maintenance gantries while faded military markings remained barely visible beneath years of corrosion and Atom symbols painted across the metal.
And somewhere inside it, the nuclear missiles remained.
Even exhausted soldiers felt it immediately.
That cold understanding settling into their stomachs.
This wasn't just another battlefield anymore.
One wrong explosion.
One catastrophic breach.
And the entire island might disappear in nuclear fire.
The Children defenders understood the symbolism perfectly.
Which was why every surviving loyalist had gathered here.
The final defense line spread across the massive chamber around the submarine dock itself.
Barricades constructed from steel plating and reactor shielding blocked the approach ramps leading toward the vessel. Machine-gun nests overlooked every entrance corridor while radiation floodlights bathed sections of the chamber in eerie green illumination.
And at the center of it all, High Confessor Tektus stood waiting personally.
He stood atop an elevated maintenance platform overlooking the submarine basin while armed Children defenders surrounded him in layered defensive positions.
His robes were burned and stained now.
One sleeve torn open.
Blood visible across part of his shoulder.
But he still looked terrifyingly composed.
The battle had taken almost everything from the Children of Atom.
And still Tektus remained standing.
Gunfire erupted almost immediately after the Far Harbor troops entered the chamber.
The final battle began without hesitation.
Machine guns hammered the entrance sectors while sniper fire flashed from elevated catwalks overhead. Children defenders poured fire toward the advancing soldiers from behind barricades positioned around the submarine dock.
"Cover!"
Far Harbor infantry scattered behind support pillars and shattered machinery as bullets sparked across the chamber.
The acoustics made everything worse.
Every rifle crack echoed like thunder beneath the steel ceiling.
The submarine chamber became deafening instantly.
One Sentinel-assisted breach gun positioned back in the corridor fired into the defensive line.
BOOM.
The shell slammed into a barricade near the eastern platform, hurling steel and bodies sideways into the smoke.
Still the defenders held.
Tektus raised his weapon high above the battlefield.
"NO SURRENDER!"
His voice thundered through the chamber even over the gunfire.
The Children answered immediately.
"ATOM!"
Another barrage of gunfire erupted from the defensive lines.
Tektus pointed toward the Far Harbor assault force below.
"THEY COME TO PROFANE THE DIVISION!"
The defenders screamed prayers back at him while firing from behind barricades and reactor shielding.
"LET THEM DIE HERE!"
The fanaticism inside the chamber felt suffocating.
These people fully intended to perish around the submarine if necessary.
And many probably preferred it.
Sico watched the defensive lines through drifting smoke while tracer rounds cut overhead across the chamber.
The final defense was stronger than the previous positions.
Not because of equipment.
Because everyone left here had already accepted death completely.
One Children defender kept firing a machine gun even after taking rounds through the torso until his body physically collapsed over the weapon.
Another cultist charged directly through incoming fire carrying radiation explosives toward the advancing Far Harbor line before getting cut down meters away.
Still more replaced him.
The dock chamber descended into another slaughter almost instantly.
Far Harbor troops advanced behind cover positions while machine guns and rifles exchanged endless streams of fire across the submarine basin.
One soldier crouched beside Sico while staring briefly toward the submarine looming through the smoke.
"Jesus Christ…"
The missiles.
Everybody was thinking about them.
Nobody wanted to say it out loud.
One wrong shot into the wrong system.
One catastrophic fire.
One reactor breach.
The entire battle carried a different kind of fear now.
Even the explosions sounded more dangerous here.
Ward moved beside Sico while reloading quickly.
"They're concentrated around the access ramps."
"Because they know we can't bombard the chamber heavily."
Exactly.
The Children understood the strategic reality perfectly.
The Far Harbor assault force couldn't simply destroy everything ahead of them.
Not here.
Not beside the submarine.
That limitation gave the defenders their best chance yet.
And Tektus intended to exploit every second of it.
He moved through the defensive line personally now, speaking to fighters crouched behind barricades and machine-gun nests while bullets cracked through the chamber around them.
"You hold here," he told one wounded defender while gripping the man's shoulder firmly.
The cultist nodded despite blood running down his neck.
"For Atom."
Tektus moved to the next position immediately afterward.
Fear no longer existed on his face.
Only fury with belief, which the kind of belief capable of carrying dying people into impossible fights.
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• 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:-