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!)
...
Just to see whether the old factory was truly empty or whether something hidden had been waiting there all along.
The journey took most of the day.
The Island rarely allowed fast travel.
Not the convenient kind.
Not the safe kind.
Roads twisted through rocky terrain.
Fog drifted across old highways.
Collapsed vehicles blocked portions of routes that had once carried thousands of people every day.
The island had a habit of forcing travelers to slow down and respect it.
The Republic convoy moved steadily nonetheless.
The Truck led.
The Humvee followed.
Both vehicles maintained enough distance to react if something emerged from the fog.
Which, on Far Harbor, remained a very real possibility.
Inside the truck, conversation came and went in waves.
Sometimes the soldiers talked.
Sometimes they sat quietly.
Sometimes they simply watched the landscape pass by.
One scout sat beside a window cleaning a pair of binoculars for what appeared to be the tenth time.
A younger soldier finally noticed.
"You know those are already clean."
The scout didn't look up.
"That's exactly what dirt wants you to think."
The younger soldier stared.
Several others laughed.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It doesn't have to."
The scout finally looked over.
"It sounded professional."
Fair enough.
The discussion somehow shifted into a debate about whether binoculars counted as weapons if thrown hard enough.
Nobody ever reached a conclusion.
Meanwhile, outside, the landscape gradually changed.
The farther east they traveled, the quieter the roads became.
Signs of human activity grew increasingly rare.
Old structures emerged from the fog like ghosts.
Ruined houses.
Abandoned service stations.
Collapsed warehouses.
Pieces of a world that no longer existed.
Occasionally they spotted wildlife.
Several radstags grazing near a tree line.
A lone fog crawler in the distance.
A group of mole rats disappearing into rocky ground.
Nothing that required intervention.
Nothing worth slowing down for.
The mission remained the priority.
As afternoon slowly began drifting toward evening, the lead scout finally leaned forward in his seat.
"There."
The truck driver followed his gaze.
Through the windshield.
Beyond a line of weathered pine trees.
A familiar silhouette emerged from the fog.
The Vim! Pop Factory.
Even from a distance, it was impossible to mistake.
The massive pre-war complex rose above the surrounding landscape.
Weathered.
Silent.
Forgotten.
Or at least appearing forgotten.
The faded Vim! logo remained visible on portions of the structure.
A relic from an age when the biggest concern people had involved choosing between soft drink brands.
Now the entire facility looked like a monument to a dead civilization.
The convoy immediately slowed.
The atmosphere inside both vehicles changed.
Conversations stopped.
The joking disappeared.
Professional focus returned.
The lead scout picked up a radio.
"We've arrived."
The response crackled through immediately.
"Copy."
The convoy left the main road.
Not toward the factory.
Away from it.
Because nobody intended to park directly beside their objective.
That would have defeated the entire purpose of reconnaissance.
Instead, they spent nearly thirty minutes carefully searching the surrounding terrain.
The area around the factory contained dense tree cover, rocky hills, and several abandoned service roads.
Exactly the kind of terrain useful for concealment.
Eventually they found what they needed.
A shallow depression surrounded by thick pines.
The location sat far enough from the factory to avoid casual observation.
Yet close enough for scouts to move on foot.
The truck rolled beneath heavy tree cover.
The Humvee followed.
Branches concealed the vehicles from above.
Camouflage netting emerged from storage compartments.
Several soldiers immediately got to work.
Years of experience showed.
Nobody needed instructions.
Within minutes the truck began disappearing beneath layers of netting, branches, and natural cover.
The Humvee received similar treatment.
One soldier stepped back to inspect their work.
The vehicles had become surprisingly difficult to spot.
Another scout nodded approvingly.
"Good enough."
The driver looked offended.
"Good enough?"
The scout pointed toward the concealed truck.
"I can't see it."
"Exactly."
"So it's good enough."
The driver reluctantly accepted the compliment.
Next came the camp.
Nothing large.
Nothing permanent.
Just a temporary observation base.
A place to rest.
Store supplies.
Maintain communications.
And retreat to if necessary.
The soldiers selected a position slightly uphill from the vehicles.
Protected by rock formations and dense vegetation.
Tents remained minimal.
Fire use was prohibited.
Visibility discipline was maintained.
Everything reflected experienced fieldcraft.
The camp existed for practicality.
Not comfort.
Several hours later the site was complete.
The hidden vehicles sat concealed beneath the trees.
Observation posts were established.
Emergency routes identified.
Radio equipment tested.
Supply caches organized.
The team had effectively vanished into the wilderness.
Exactly as intended.
As evening approached, the lead scout gathered everyone together around a map spread across a crate.
The factory sat less than a mile away.
Close enough now that the mission felt real.
The scout tapped the map.
"We split here."
Everyone nodded.
Two soldiers would remain behind.
Guard duty.
Vehicle security.
Camp security.
Communication support.
Not glamorous work.
But important work.
The two selected soldiers accepted their assignment without complaint.
One shrugged.
"Somebody has to stop you idiots from getting our ride home blown up."
A scout immediately pointed.
"See? That's leadership."
The guard rolled his eyes.
The second guard looked considerably less amused.
"Just don't bring super mutants back here."
"No promises."
"I hate all of you."
That earned laughter.
Then the joking ended.
Weapons were checked one final time.
Binoculars secured.
Radios adjusted.
The remaining six scouts prepared to move.
The lead scout gave a final reminder.
"We're observing."
Several nods.
"We're not engaging."
More nods.
"We're not exploring."
The youngest soldier immediately replied.
"That sounds suspiciously like exploring."
The lead scout stared at him.
The soldier raised both hands.
"I'm joking."
The scout continued staring.
"…mostly joking."
That response somehow made things worse.
Eventually the team moved out.
Quietly.
Professionally.
The forest swallowed them almost immediately.
Pine trees blocked visibility.
Fog drifted between trunks.
The ground remained damp beneath their boots.
Nobody spoke above a whisper.
Nobody moved carelessly.
The closer they approached the factory, the more cautious they became.
Then finally, the trees began thinning.
The first clear view appeared.
And every soldier immediately stopped.
For several moments nobody spoke.
Because the factory was larger than it had appeared from the road.
Much larger.
The entire complex occupied its own small island.
Separated from the surrounding terrain by water and industrial infrastructure.
The layout became visible through binoculars.
The western side contained a short bridge connecting the island to the mainland.
Beyond the bridge stood the front entrance to the corporate headquarters.
Once upon a time, executives and office workers had probably crossed there every morning.
Now the structure sat silent beneath decades of decay.
The scouts studied every detail.
One quietly took notes.
Another sketched portions of the layout.
The lead scout adjusted his binoculars.
"Keep looking."
The team spread into concealed observation positions.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The southern and eastern sections of the complex became visible next.
A traffic gate stood near one side of the island.
Beyond it, a ramp descended toward a parking area.
The old parking lot remained surprisingly intact.
Weathered.
Cracked.
Overgrown.
But recognizable.
Near it sat another entrance.
This one leading directly toward the factory section itself.
The industrial heart of the complex.
Meanwhile, on the northern side of the ramp, another structure emerged.
A two-level parking garage.
Large.
Partially damaged.
Still standing.
The upper level contained yet another access point.
A secondary entrance leading into the rear portion of the corporate headquarters.
The scouts carefully documented everything.
Entrances.
Roads.
Sight lines.
Potential observation positions.
Possible escape routes.
Exactly what they had been sent to do.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Then one scout froze.
His binoculars stopped moving.
"What is it?"
The scout didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he slowly lowered the optics.
Then handed them over.
"Look."
The second scout raised the binoculars.
Focused.
And immediately understood.
"Oh."
The word carried significance.
The others noticed.
One by one they looked.
And one by one their expressions changed.
Because the factory wasn't empty.
Not even close.
Movement appeared throughout portions of the complex.
Large figures.
Massive figures.
Green-skinned.
Heavily built.
Super mutants.
The lead scout counted three immediately.
Then four.
Then six.
And those were only the visible ones.
One stood near the bridge.
Another patrolled part of the parking area.
Several occupied elevated positions overlooking portions of the complex.
The factory had definitely been claimed.
A muttered curse spread through the observation team.
Not because super mutants were unusual.
The Islandp contained plenty of dangerous things.
But because it complicated everything.
The scouts continued watching.
More details emerged.
One super mutant carried a massive board reinforced with scrap metal.
Another possessed a missile launcher slung across one shoulder.
A third appeared to be arguing with a fourth.
The argument seemed highly sophisticated.
Mostly shouting.
Occasional pointing.
And one thrown object.
The scouts watched for nearly a minute.
Then one finally whispered:
"They're discussing philosophy."
Several nearby soldiers nearly laughed.
Then something else appeared.
Smaller.
Faster.
Moving alongside one of the mutants.
Mutant hounds.
Several of them.
The twisted creatures prowled through the factory grounds.
Alert.
Aggressive.
Dangerous.
One sniffed along a ruined section of pavement before disappearing behind debris.
Another lounged near a guard position.
The lead scout made another note.
Super mutants.
Mutant hounds.
Confirmed.
Then came a third problem.
Movement near the edge of the parking area.
At first it looked insignificant.
Small disturbances in the dirt.
Then a mole rat suddenly emerged.
Followed by another.
Then another.
The scouts exchanged looks.
Of course there were mole rats.
Because apparently the universe had decided the factory wasn't already dangerous enough.
One scout quietly updated the notes.
Super mutants.
Mutant hounds.
Mole rats.
Potentially significant occupation.
Unknown numbers.
The lead scout lowered his binoculars.
His expression thoughtful.
Not worried.
Not panicked.
Just thoughtful.
Because the reconnaissance mission had already succeeded.
They had found something.
Quite a lot, actually.
The factory wasn't abandoned.
It wasn't empty.
And whatever secret DiMA had hidden beneath it now existed underneath a heavily occupied super mutant stronghold.
The realization settled over the group.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Interesting.
One scout looked toward the sprawling factory complex.
Toward the bridge.
The headquarters building.
The parking garage.
The factory entrance.
The super mutants moving between them.
The lead scout continued staring through his binoculars for several seconds.
The Vim! Pop Factory sprawled across its little island like a sleeping giant.
Except it wasn't sleeping.
And it certainly wasn't abandoned.
Super mutants moved between ruined structures with the confidence of creatures that believed the place belonged to them.
Mutant hounds prowled the grounds.
Mole rats surfaced occasionally near cracked pavement before disappearing underground again.
The factory was alive.
Dangerously alive.
Which made the next decision surprisingly easy.
Nobody moved toward the complex.
Nobody attempted a closer approach.
Nobody volunteered to sneak inside.
Because Sico's orders had been very clear.
Observe.
Report.
Return.
Nothing else.
The lead scout slowly lowered his binoculars.
"We found what we came for."
A few soldiers nodded.
One of them looked toward the bridge.
"Yeah."
Then toward the factory entrance.
"And probably a lot more than we expected."
Nobody disagreed.
The hidden medical facility beneath the factory might still exist.
The memories suggested it did.
But at the moment that secret sat underneath a fortress occupied by enough super mutants to cause serious problems for anyone attempting a direct assault.
That alone was valuable information.
The lead scout checked his watch.
"We stay."
No objections followed.
Because staying made sense.
One glance could reveal what existed.
Several days of observation could reveal how it functioned.
And those were two very different things.
The first night passed quietly.
The observation team returned to the hidden camp before darkness fully settled across the island.
The two guards waiting there immediately noticed their expressions.
One of them looked up from cleaning his rifle.
"Well?"
The returning scouts dropped packs beside a crate.
The lead scout sat down.
Took a drink of water.
Then answered.
"The factory is occupied."
The guards exchanged glances.
"Raiders?"
"No."
"Trappers?"
"No."
A pause.
"Super mutants."
Silence.
Then:
"How many?"
The scout shrugged.
"Enough."
Nobody liked that answer.
Because "enough" could mean many things.
And none of them were pleasant.
The lead scout spread out notes across a crate.
Sketches.
Observations.
Estimated patrol routes.
Visible entrances.
Everything recorded during the first day.
The guards immediately leaned closer.
The discussion continued long into the evening.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just professionals sharing information.
Every observation mattered.
Every detail might help later.
Especially if Sico eventually decided to investigate personally.
The following morning began before sunrise.
The scouts were already awake.
Far Harbor mornings possessed a habit of arriving cold regardless of season.
Moisture clung to equipment.
Fog drifted between trees.
Everything smelled faintly of pine needles and ocean air.
Breakfast consisted of military rations and complaints.
Mostly complaints.
One soldier examined his meal suspiciously.
"I think this thing expired before the war."
Another looked over.
"That's impossible."
"Is it?"
The second soldier considered this.
Then nodded.
"Fair point."
The conversation ended there.
Nobody actually wanted the answer.
Soon afterward, the observation teams returned to their positions overlooking the factory.
The second day focused entirely on patterns.
Patterns revealed weaknesses.
Patterns revealed opportunities.
Patterns revealed mistakes.
And every living thing eventually developed habits.
Even super mutants.
Especially super mutants.
By mid-morning, several trends had already become apparent.
The bridge on the western side remained heavily used.
Most visible movement passed through that route.
Mutants crossed it regularly.
Supplies occasionally moved across it.
The location functioned as the primary access point.
The lead scout marked it carefully.
Primary route.
High activity.
Potential chokepoint.
Important.
Very important.
Another observer focused on the parking area.
The southern approach appeared less active.
Not empty.
Just quieter.
Fewer patrols.
Less movement.
More blind spots.
Interesting.
A note joined the growing collection.
Potential infiltration route.
Further observation required.
Nearby, another scout monitored the two-level parking garage.
That structure fascinated him.
Because unlike the rest of the complex, it appeared surprisingly underutilized.
Several mutants passed through occasionally.
Few stayed.
Nobody seemed interested in maintaining a permanent guard presence there.
Which raised questions.
Good questions.
Questions Sico would undoubtedly appreciate.
By afternoon, notebooks had begun filling rapidly.
The scouts rotated positions throughout the day.
Not because they were tired.
Because different viewpoints revealed different information.
One angle showed patrol routes.
Another revealed entrances.
A third exposed blind spots.
Information accumulated piece by piece.
Like assembling a puzzle.
The second evening produced the first real breakthrough.
Not dramatic.
Not dangerous.
But useful.
One scout had spent nearly three hours watching a group of super mutants near the factory entrance.
At first the behavior seemed random.
Typical mutant behavior.
Wandering.
Arguing.
Occasionally throwing objects at one another.
Then he noticed something.
The same mutants repeatedly disappeared into one section of the factory.
Not the headquarters building.
Not the garage.
The factory itself.
And every time they emerged, they carried something.
Crates.
Metal containers.
Equipment.
The scout immediately began recording details.
The activity continued throughout the evening.
Enough times to establish certainty.
Something important existed inside.
Whether it related to DiMA's hidden facility remained impossible to determine.
But it was worth noting.
Very worth noting.
When he returned to camp, the observation generated immediate interest.
The lead scout studied the notes carefully.
"Storage area?"
"Maybe."
"Workshop?"
"Maybe."
"Something else?"
The scout nodded.
"Maybe."
Everyone hated investigations sometimes.
Too many maybes.
Not enough answers.
Still.
Information was information.
And Sico would want it all.
By the third morning, the scouts had begun constructing something nearly as valuable as their observations.
A map.
Not a perfect map.
Not an engineer's map.
Not something measured with surveying equipment.
But a reconnaissance map.
The kind soldiers created from careful observation and patience.
Several notebooks lay open across a folding table inside the hidden camp.
Sketches covered pages.
Angles.
Distances.
Building layouts.
Patrol locations.
Elevation estimates.
Road access.
Observation notes.
The map slowly took shape.
One soldier possessed surprisingly good drawing skills.
Nobody had known this previously.
Including him.
The discovery came as a surprise to everyone.
Especially after another scout looked over his shoulder.
"Where did you learn to draw like that?"
The artist paused.
Thought about it.
Then shrugged.
"I used to forge report signatures."
Several seconds of silence followed.
Then:
"…what?"
The soldier looked genuinely confused.
"What?"
The entire camp started laughing.
Even the lead scout nearly dropped his pencil.
"That is not the answer I expected."
The artist seemed offended.
"It requires precision."
"That's your defense?"
"It's a valid defense."
The argument somehow continued for ten minutes.
Meanwhile, the map continued improving.
Piece by piece.
Detail by detail.
Until eventually it became something genuinely useful.
The small island.
The bridge.
Corporate headquarters.
Traffic gate.
Factory entrance.
Parking area.
Parking garage.
Known super mutant positions.
Likely patrol routes.
Potential observation points.
Possible weaknesses.
Everything the team had learned during two full days of surveillance.
By late afternoon, the lead scout finally leaned back.
The mission had reached its natural conclusion.
They had accomplished exactly what Sico requested.
Maybe more.
Further observation would likely produce diminishing returns.
The same patrols.
The same routines.
The same movements.
Nothing suggested immediate changes.
Nothing suggested hidden opportunities waiting another day.
Most importantly, remaining longer increased risk.
Sooner or later, somebody got careless.
Sooner or later, luck ran out.
Experienced scouts understood that.
The lead scout looked around the camp.
"We're done."
Several heads turned.
Nobody argued.
Nobody requested more time.
The decision felt right.
The mission objectives had been completed.
The factory had been observed.
Enemy presence confirmed.
Potential weaknesses identified.
Map completed.
Now came the most important part.
Getting home.
Because intelligence only mattered if someone survived long enough to deliver it.
Breaking camp took less than an hour.
Experienced soldiers moved efficiently.
Tents disappeared.
Equipment packed away.
Observation posts dismantled.
No trash remained.
No evidence remained.
By the time they finished, it looked as though nobody had ever occupied the location.
The hidden camp simply ceased to exist.
Exactly as intended.
The two guards retrieved the camouflage netting covering the vehicles.
Gradually the Truck and Humvee reappeared beneath the trees.
One driver walked around the Humvee inspecting tires.
Another checked fuel levels.
Everything appeared good.
Everything appeared ready.
The lead scout climbed into the truck.
The carefully rolled map sat inside a protective tube.
His notebook remained secured inside his pack.
Two days of observations.
Two days of intelligence.
Two days of answers.
And probably several new questions.
The engine started.
A familiar rumble echoed through the trees.
Nearby, the Humvee's engine joined it moments later.
The sound felt strangely comforting.
Home.
That was what it represented now.
The lead scout took one final look toward the distant factory.
Invisible behind hills and fog.
Yet somehow still present in his thoughts.
The place had secrets.
That much felt certain.
Whether those secrets matched DiMA's memories remained unknown.
But one thing was obvious.
The Vim! Pop Factory was not abandoned.
Anyone attempting to investigate would need a plan.
A very good plan.
And probably a lot of ammunition.
The convoy rolled forward.
Leaving the hidden campsite behind.
The forest gradually swallowed all traces of their presence.
Soon the old service roads connected with larger routes.
The journey west began.
Back through the fog.
Back through the wilderness.
Back toward the Nucleus.
Back toward Sico.
And as the Truck and Humvee disappeared into the gray distance, the lead scout rested a hand on the map tube beside him.
Inside that container lay the first real picture of the factory.
The first clear understanding of what waited there.
Soon Sico would see it.
Soon he would know about the super mutants.
The mutant hounds.
The mole rats.
The bridge.
The entrances.
The patrol routes.
The possible weaknesses.
And then the responsibility for deciding what came next would return to where it belonged, as they head back to Sico who had uncovered DiMA's hidden memories jn the first place.
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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:-