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!)
...
The greatest predator the Island had ever known had finally fallen, and with its death another shadow over Far Harbor's future disappeared, leaving behind only the quiet hope that each hard-won victory brought the Island one step closer to lasting peace.
Smoke drifted lazily across the broken pavement outside the Oceanarium.
It no longer carried the urgency of battle.
Only the lingering scent of hot metal, burned gunpowder, and shattered stone remained, slowly giving way to the familiar salt carried inland by the sea breeze.
Shipbreaker lay exactly where it had fallen.
The colossal Fog Crawler no longer looked unstoppable.
Its enormous claws rested half-buried in fractured concrete, while its immense armored body stretched across the shoreline like the wreck of some ancient war machine finally brought to rest. Hundreds of bullet impacts scarred the thick plates covering its shell. Cracks spread through the armor where concentrated Republic fire had finally broken its defenses.
The Island had fallen quiet.
Even the gulls circled from a respectful distance.
No one celebrated.
No one spoke louder than necessary.
The surviving soldiers simply stood where the battle had ended, breathing heavily as the adrenaline slowly left their bodies.
Some lowered their rifles.
Others quietly replaced empty magazines before engaging the safeties out of long-practiced habit.
Sico's eyes lingered on Shipbreaker for only another second.
The mission was over.
Now came the responsibility that always followed victory.
He turned away from the dead monster.
"Medics."
His voice remained calm, but it carried clearly across the battlefield.
"Start treating every wounded man immediately."
"Don't wait."
Three Republic medics answered at once.
"Yes, sir."
Medical packs were already being pulled from the Humvees before the order had fully finished.
Within moments, the quiet shoreline became a carefully organized treatment area.
One medic knelt beside a rifleman sitting against a damaged concrete barrier, blood soaking through the sleeve of his combat jacket.
"Let's have a look."
The soldier managed a tired smile.
"It's only my arm."
The medic carefully cut away the torn fabric with trauma shears.
"It always starts with 'only.'"
He inspected the wound carefully.
A deep laceration stretched across the upper arm where flying debris from Shipbreaker's shattered armor had sliced through the uniform.
"No arterial bleeding."
He reached for sterile gauze.
"Hold pressure."
The soldier obeyed immediately.
The medic cleaned the wound with antiseptic before applying fresh dressings.
"That'll sting."
"It already does."
"Good."
The medic smiled faintly.
"Means you're still complaining."
Several nearby soldiers quietly laughed.
The brief moment of humor lasted only a few seconds, but it eased some of the tension still hanging over the battlefield.
A second medic hurried toward another casualty lying on a folded blanket near one of the Humvees.
This man had taken the full force of flying rubble when Shipbreaker had smashed through a concrete barricade.
His breathing remained steady, though pain showed clearly across his face.
"Can you move your toes?"
The soldier concentrated.
"…Yeah."
"Good."
The medic gently examined both legs.
"No spinal tenderness."
He carefully pressed along the shin.
The wounded soldier winced.
"There."
The medic nodded.
"I thought so."
He reached into his pack.
"Looks like a fracture."
Another medic passed over two lightweight splints.
Together they worked with practiced precision.
Padding.
Alignment.
Support.
Straps tightened just enough to immobilize the injured leg without restricting circulation.
"Comfortable?"
"As comfortable as this is going to get."
"We'll take that."
The medic handed him a canteen.
"Drink."
The soldier accepted it gratefully.
Nearby, another wounded Republic trooper sat with his back against the rear wheel of the second Humvee while a medic carefully checked a nasty bruise spreading beneath his body armor.
"No penetration."
The medic muttered after completing his examination.
"You were lucky."
"Lucky?"
The soldier looked toward the destroyed concrete wall nearby.
"I'd hate to see unlucky."
"So would I."
The medic removed a small injector from his pouch.
"This is a painkiller."
"You'll stay awake."
"But it should make the next few hours easier."
The soldier nodded.
"Do it."
A quick injection into the upper arm.
The medic noted the dosage in a small waterproof notebook clipped inside his medical pouch before moving to the next patient.
Elsewhere, another Republic medic crouched beside a young rifleman whose forehead had been cut by fragments of shattered stone.
Blood had dried across one eyebrow, but the wound itself appeared clean.
The medic gently shined a penlight into each eye.
"Follow the light."
The soldier complied.
"No dizziness?"
"A little."
"Nausea?"
"No."
The medic nodded.
"You'll still stay under observation."
He wrapped a clean bandage around the young man's head before patting his shoulder.
"Take it easy today."
"I can still fight."
"I know."
"And today your job is recovering."
The soldier opened his mouth to argue before wisely deciding against it.
All across the battlefield similar scenes unfolded.
Bandages replaced bloodstained field dressings.
Minor burns were cleaned.
Cuts stitched where necessary.
Bruised ribs examined.
Broken fingers splinted.
Every injured soldier received individual attention.
No one was rushed.
No one overlooked.
Only after the last wounded man had been stabilized did Sico quietly turn toward the remaining uninjured troops.
There were fewer standing now than there had been that morning.
He looked at them for a long moment before speaking.
"Body bags."
His words were soft.
"Bring four."
No one answered with unnecessary words.
Several soldiers simply nodded before walking toward the rear compartments of the Humvees.
The heavy canvas bags were stored beneath emergency recovery equipment.
One by one they were carried across the battlefield.
No one hurried.
No one looked away.
The first fallen soldier still rested beside the damaged lead Humvee where Shipbreaker's initial strike had thrown him from the mounted gun.
His helmet lay several meters away.
One Republic corporal retrieved it first.
He brushed away the dust before placing it carefully beside the body.
Another soldier collected the rifle.
A third recovered spare magazines scattered across broken pavement.
Finally they knelt together.
"Easy."
The corporal said quietly.
Together they lifted their fallen comrade with steady hands.
The body bag was opened fully before they gently lowered him inside.
One soldier carefully folded his arms across his chest.
Another removed the identification tags only long enough to record the information in the casualty log before respectfully placing them back around his neck.
The zipper closed slowly.
The sound seemed louder than anything else on the silent shoreline.
Nearby, another recovery team reached the two soldiers who had died when Shipbreaker's tail smashed through the Republic line.
They worked with the same care.
Weapons recovered.
Helmets retrieved.
Personal packs gathered.
Nothing belonging to their comrades would be left behind.
One soldier found a family photograph tucked safely inside a waterproof notebook.
He paused for a second.
Then quietly slipped it back into the man's breast pocket before the body bag was sealed.
No one commented.
Nothing needed saying.
The fourth soldier had fallen protecting a wounded companion during Shipbreaker's final assault.
The man he had saved now watched silently from a stretcher while another team respectfully recovered his rescuer.
His eyes never left the scene.
When the zipper finally closed…
He lowered his head.
A medic rested one reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
After several minutes, the four body bags rested side by side beneath the shade of a partially collapsed section of the Oceanarium entrance where canvas tarps had been stretched overhead to shield them from the afternoon sun.
Their rifles had been unloaded, cleaned of dirt, and laid neatly beside each respective bag.
Helmets rested above them.
Packs were stacked together.
Dog tags, identification records, and personal belongings had all been carefully documented for return to their families.
No ceremony had been planned.
None was necessary.
The surviving Republic soldiers instinctively removed their helmets.
For nearly a minute…
The shoreline remained completely silent.
Only waves rolled gently against the rocks below.
The quiet spoke more honestly than speeches ever could.
Eventually Sico replaced his helmet beneath one arm and looked across the battlefield once more.
The wounded were receiving care.
The fallen had been recovered.
Shipbreaker was dead.
The mission had succeeded.
He turned toward Lieutenant Parker.
"We'll prepare to return to Far Harbor."
Parker nodded.
"I'll get the convoy moving."
Before he could take more than two steps, one of the senior Republic medics approached, removing his gloves as he walked.
"Sir."
Sico looked toward him.
"What is it?"
The medic hesitated briefly, choosing his words carefully.
"I recommend we don't leave today."
Parker stopped walking.
Sico studied the medic.
"Explain."
The medic glanced toward the treatment area.
"Most of our wounded are stable."
"That's the good news."
He folded his arms.
"But several of them have only recently been stabilized."
He pointed discreetly toward the soldier with the splinted leg.
"He needs more observation."
"The others have blood loss, blunt-force trauma, exhaustion…"
He shook his head.
"If we spend hours crossing rough Island roads this afternoon…"
"…we'll undo some of the work we've just done."
He continued calmly.
"They need fluids."
"Food."
"Time for the pain medication to take effect."
"They need uninterrupted rest before bouncing across half the Island in Humvees."
Sico remained silent.
The medic continued.
"We're secure here."
"The immediate threat has been eliminated."
"My professional recommendation is simple."
"Stay."
"Treat everyone properly."
"Leave first thing tomorrow morning."
For several long moments, Sico said nothing.
His gaze wandered across the battlefield.
He saw one mechanic inspecting the damaged suspension of the lead Humvee.
Another vehicle still bore deep claw marks carved through its armored panels.
Nearby, exhausted riflemen quietly helped one another refill magazines and clean weapons blackened by powder residue.
The wounded lay resting beneath improvised shade.
Even the men who had escaped injury moved more slowly now.
Yesterday they had marched across the Island.
Today they had fought one of the deadliest creatures anyone had ever encountered.
Fatigue had settled into every face.
Finally Sico nodded once.
"You're right."
The medic offered a small, appreciative nod.
"I thought you might say that."
Sico turned toward Parker.
"We stay."
The lieutenant immediately shifted into planning mode.
"Understood."
Sico raised his voice just enough for the nearby squads to hear.
"New orders."
"We establish a temporary camp here."
"The return to Far Harbor begins tomorrow morning."
The response came instantly.
"Yes, sir."
The battlefield transformed once again.
Only this time…
Into something quieter.
More methodical.
Several soldiers began positioning the three Humvees in a tighter defensive triangle covering every major approach to the Oceanarium.
Machine guns remained mounted and ready.
Fields of fire overlapped naturally across the surrounding parking area and shoreline.
Engineers unloaded portable barricades and stacked them around likely avenues of approach.
Others filled sandbags using gravel collected from the damaged car park.
Radio operators established a communications post inside the Oceanarium's entrance hall.
Antennas were raised.
Frequencies checked.
Scheduled reports prepared for transmission back toward Far Harbor once atmospheric conditions allowed.
Inside the building, soldiers cleared another section of debris to create a cleaner shelter.
Sleeping rolls were laid out with more space for the wounded.
Lanterns were hung from exposed steel beams.
Portable stoves were assembled near broken windows where smoke could escape without filling the room.
One corner became a dedicated medical area.
Stretchers were aligned neatly.
Medical packs unpacked.
Fresh water heated for cleaning wounds.
The medics immediately resumed checking dressings and monitoring each patient.
Outside, guards rotated into security positions overlooking the surrounding woods and shoreline.
Every watch schedule was written before sunset.
Nothing relied upon memory.
Nothing depended on luck.
Sico could easily have remained in the center, directing everything.
Instead, he quietly picked up a heavy crate of supplies from the rear of the second Humvee.
A nearby private looked surprised.
"Sir…"
"I can carry that."
"I know."
Sico replied.
"But so can I."
Together they carried it into the Oceanarium.
Later he helped unload spare fuel cans.
After that, he joined two mechanics dragging damaged steel barriers into place near the eastern approach.
When a stack of lumber needed moving, he took one end without being asked.
No speeches.
No announcement.
Simply work.
The soldiers noticed.
No one mentioned it aloud, but the effect spread quietly through the camp.
Fatigue remained.
Grief remained.
Yet everyone continued working shoulder to shoulder.
As afternoon slowly gave way to evening, the camp took shape against the quiet coastline.
Beyond it, Shipbreaker still lay where it had fallen, no longer a terror stalking the Island, but a silent reminder of what determination and sacrifice had finally overcome.
The sea breeze carried the smell of salt across the camp as lanterns were prepared for another night.
Then dawn arrived quietly over the Republic camp outside the Oceanarium.
The first light of morning spread across the eastern sea in long ribbons of pale gold, reflecting gently off calm water until the entire shoreline seemed washed in warm amber. The smoke from yesterday's battle had long since disappeared, carried out over the Atlantic by the night wind.
Only the scars remained.
Broken concrete still marked where Shipbreaker had charged.
Deep gouges carved by its colossal claws cut across the cracked parking area.
The shattered shells of spent cartridges glittered faintly beneath the morning sun.
And beyond it all, the enormous body of the legendary Fog Crawler remained exactly where it had fallen, silent beneath a flock of curious seabirds that now circled cautiously overhead.
For the first time in countless years…
Nothing on the Island feared Shipbreaker anymore.
Inside the temporary camp, the day began with the same quiet discipline that had carried the Republic through every campaign before this one.
No bugle sounded.
No shouted wake-up calls disturbed the morning.
One by one, soldiers emerged naturally from their sleeping rolls as years of routine guided them through another day's work.
The previous day's battle still lingered in tired muscles and aching shoulders.
Several men stretched carefully before reaching for their boots.
Others quietly folded blankets while exchanging subdued greetings.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"You sleep at all?"
"A little."
"It was enough."
The answer drew a small nod.
It was enough.
That was all anyone needed.
Near the medical section, the Republic medics had already begun moving between the wounded.
Their work from yesterday had stabilized every casualty.
Now came one final examination before the long journey back to Far Harbor.
The rifleman with the splinted leg sat patiently on a folding chair while one medic loosened the bandages just enough to inspect circulation.
"Any numbness?"
The soldier flexed his toes.
"No."
"Pain?"
"When I move."
"I'd be worried if there wasn't."
The medic smiled gently before tightening the splint once more.
"The swelling hasn't gotten worse."
"That's good."
He marked another note inside his waterproof notebook.
"You'll stay off that leg until the hospital clears you."
"I know."
"You planning on arguing?"
The young soldier laughed quietly.
"Not this morning."
Nearby another medic checked the man whose arm had been lacerated by flying fragments during the battle.
The fresh dressing remained clean.
No excessive bleeding.
No sign of infection.
"Looks good."
The medic carefully replaced the outer bandage.
"You'll keep the stitches dry."
"I'll try."
"You'll do more than try."
The wounded man chuckled.
"Yes, sir."
Another casualty who had suffered cracked ribs during Shipbreaker's assault received a careful examination before being handed fresh pain medication and another full canteen.
The medic waited until the soldier drank every drop.
"Hydration."
He said firmly.
"It's just as important as everything else."
"I believe you."
"You'd better."
One by one every injured Republic soldier was examined again.
Pulse.
Temperature.
Dressings.
Splints.
Pain management.
Mobility.
Only after each medic expressed quiet satisfaction did preparations begin for loading the wounded.
The process took time.
Nobody rushed it.
Stretchers were brought from the Humvees.
Blankets were folded beneath patients to reduce movement.
Improvised padding made from spare uniforms supported injured shoulders and legs.
Four healthy soldiers carefully lifted the man with the broken leg.
"Ready?"
He nodded.
"Lift."
They raised him smoothly.
Not even the stretcher shifted.
Another wounded rifleman insisted he could walk.
"You probably can."
The medic admitted.
"But you won't."
Before the soldier could object, two comrades moved beside him.
One slipped an arm around his shoulders.
The other supported his opposite side.
Together they slowly guided him toward the waiting Humvee.
"We're making you look important."
One joked.
"I'm already important."
"No."
His friend grinned.
"Now you're cargo."
Even that earned a few quiet laughs.
The wounded appreciated them.
Small moments like these reminded everyone that yesterday's battle had not stolen everything.
While the medical teams completed their work, Sico walked toward the temporary memorial where the four body bags still rested beneath neatly secured canvas.
The morning breeze stirred the edges of the covering gently.
Nothing else moved.
He stopped for several silent seconds.
Then looked toward the nearby soldiers.
"We'll take them home."
Four Republic soldiers stepped forward immediately.
No one needed further instruction.
The canvas covering was folded back with care.
Each body bag remained exactly as it had been placed the previous afternoon.
The recovered rifles rested alongside them.
Helmets.
Backpacks.
Utility belts.
Personal equipment.
Everything had been cleaned, inventoried, and prepared for transport.
One soldier carefully checked the casualty documentation attached to each bag.
Another confirmed every identification tag matched the written records.
Nothing would be misplaced.
Nothing forgotten.
"Ready."
The corporal said quietly.
Sico nodded.
"Carry."
Each body bag required four pairs of steady hands.
No hurried movements.
No unnecessary conversation.
Only quiet professionalism.
As they approached the transport Humvee specially prepared for casualty evacuation, every nearby Republic soldier instinctively stopped working.
Some removed their helmets again.
Others simply stood at attention.
The fallen were lifted into the vehicle one at a time.
Soft straps secured each respectfully against movement during the long drive.
Their rifles were placed beside them.
Helmets carefully positioned.
Personal belongings loaded separately into labeled storage crates.
Everything would return with them.
Everything would reach their families.
Only after the fourth fallen soldier had been secured did the work around the camp resume.
Sico turned toward the remaining men.
"Let's finish here."
The temporary Republic camp slowly disappeared.
Sleeping rolls vanished into waterproof packs.
Lanterns cooled before being wrapped in protective cloth.
Portable stoves were disassembled and packed alongside fuel containers.
Medical equipment returned neatly to labeled cases.
Radio operators lowered antennas before carefully winding communication cables into tight coils.
Sandbags emptied.
Portable barricades loaded.
Tools counted twice before being secured inside the supply Humvee.
Sico never remained standing for long.
He picked up wooden crates alongside privates.
Helped fold heavy canvas shelters.
Carried spare ammunition cases toward the rear vehicle.
At one point two soldiers struggled to lift a damaged steel barricade bent during Shipbreaker's attack.
Without a word Sico grabbed one side.
Together they raised it into the truck.
One private smiled.
"Thanks, sir."
Sico simply nodded.
"We all want to get home."
Before long, little remained to suggest a military camp had occupied the Oceanarium at all.
The medical area stood empty.
The cooking fires had been extinguished completely.
Even scattered footprints had begun disappearing beneath the sea breeze blowing fine sand across the pavement.
Lieutenant Parker completed one final walk around the site.
"Nothing left behind."
"Good."
Sico replied.
He looked once toward Shipbreaker's enormous corpse.
Recovery teams from Far Harbor would eventually return to study the legendary creature.
Today…
Their responsibility lay elsewhere.
The convoy.
Mechanics performed another complete inspection.
Yesterday's battle had left its mark.
The lead Humvee still carried deep claw scars across one side.
Another vehicle bore fresh welding plates where damaged armor had been temporarily reinforced overnight.
Engine oil.
Coolant.
Tire pressure.
Suspension.
Brakes.
Radio checks.
Mounted machine guns.
Every system received careful attention.
Eventually the chief mechanic closed the final engine cover.
"Convoy ready."
Sico climbed into the lead Humvee.
Parker settled into the passenger seat once more.
The radio crackled.
"Second vehicle ready."
"Third vehicle ready."
Sico gave one final glance through the windshield.
"Let's go home."
Three diesel engines answered together.
The convoy rolled slowly away from the Oceanarium.
This journey felt entirely different from the one that had brought them here.
They followed many of the same roads.
Past the weathered buildings.
Across rocky coastlines.
Between dense forests where sunlight filtered through towering pines.
Through Glowing Grove, whose softly luminescent fungi seemed almost peaceful now.
Past Atom Spring, where steam drifted quietly into the cool morning air.
The road carried them once again beyond the shadow of the Nucleus.
No mysterious radio signal accompanied them this time.
Sico activated his Pip-Boy once during the drive.
Only ordinary static answered.
Nothing more.
Shipbreaker's strange transmission had died with the creature itself.
Hours later the familiar walls of Far Harbor appeared through the trees.
Lookouts spotted the convoy almost immediately.
The settlement gates opened.
As the Humvees rolled inside, conversations gradually fell silent.
Harbor residents noticed the damaged armor plating.
The claw marks.
The shattered windshields patched with temporary repairs.
Then they noticed something else.
The solemn faces.
The transport vehicle carrying four fallen soldiers.
No one asked questions.
They already understood enough.
Men removed their hats.
Fishermen lowered their heads.
Several children instinctively stepped closer to their parents.
The convoy continued without stopping.
Sico spoke into the radio.
"Hospital first."
The Republic hospital stood ready.
Word of the convoy's arrival had already reached the staff.
Doctors, nurses, and additional medics hurried outside with waiting stretchers.
The rear doors opened.
"Easy."
"Watch the leg."
"Lift together."
Each wounded soldier was transferred carefully.
No sudden movements.
No unnecessary discomfort.
The doctors immediately began fresh examinations even before entering the building.
"Take him to Observation Two."
"This one needs new X-rays."
"Let's clean that wound again."
One by one the wounded disappeared inside.
Some waved weakly toward their comrades.
Others simply managed tired smiles.
Sico waited until the last stretcher crossed the hospital entrance.
Only then did he signal the convoy onward.
Their final destination lay on the quiet hillside overlooking Far Harbor.
The cemetery.
Fresh graves had already been prepared.
The four body bags were carried with the same dignity that had accompanied every step since the Oceanarium.
Republic soldiers formed two silent ranks.
No speeches interrupted the morning.
The names of each fallen soldier were read quietly into the official record.
One at a time they were lowered gently into the earth.
Helmets rested briefly atop each grave before being returned to their families' belongings.
The soldiers stood motionless.
Heads bowed.
The only sound came from the breeze moving through nearby pine trees.
After several quiet minutes, the ceremony ended.
The graves remained simple.
But they would never be forgotten.
Sico left without ceremony.
He walked alone through familiar streets until the weathered sign of The Last Plank came into view.
Inside, little had changed.
Coffee brewed behind the counter.
Harbor fishermen exchanged stories over breakfast.
The smell of chowder filled the room.
And at the far end of the bar…
Old Longfellow sat exactly where Sico had last seen him.
The hunter looked up as the door opened.
A faint smile appeared beneath his beard.
"You're back."
"I am."
Longfellow studied him for a moment.
"You found somethin', didn't you?"
Sico took the neighboring stool.
For several seconds he simply looked toward the harbor beyond the window.
Then he answered quietly.
"We found Shipbreaker."
Longfellow froze.
His hand stopped halfway toward his glass.
"…You found it?"
Sico nodded.
"We fought it."
Silence.
Longfellow searched his face carefully.
Almost afraid to ask.
"And?"
Sico met his eyes.
"We killed it."
The old hunter didn't answer.
For a long while he simply stared.
Then he slowly leaned back against the bar.
"…No."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"I… I don't…"
He shook his head.
"You're tellin' me…"
"…Shipbreaker's gone?"
"It won't hunt again."
Longfellow looked toward the harbor outside.
Fishing boats drifted peacefully across calm water.
He watched them for a long time.
"I spent years…"
He murmured.
"Years chasin' that damned thing."
He laughed softly, though there was no humor in it.
"I followed every strange signal."
"Every rumor."
"Every frightened fisherman swearin' they'd seen a shadow beneath their boat."
He rubbed one weathered hand across his face.
"I wore out boots."
"Broke rifles."
"Nearly got myself killed more times than I care to remember."
His voice grew quieter.
"I kept thinkin'…"
"'Next time.'"
"'Next lead.'"
"'Next signal.'"
"But it was never there."
He looked back toward Sico.
"And all this time…"
"You actually found it."
"We did."
Longfellow lowered his head.
"My friends…"
He said softly.
"They can finally rest."
Without another word he reached beneath the bar.
For a moment Sico wondered what he was retrieving.
Longfellow carefully lifted a long, cloth-wrapped object onto the counter.
His movements were slow.
Almost reverent.
He unfolded the cloth.
A beautifully maintained harpoon gun rested inside.
Despite its age, every metal fitting had been polished.
The wooden stock bore countless years of careful maintenance.
Longfellow rested one hand upon it.
"This…"
He said quietly.
"…is Skipper's Last Stand."
"I built it years ago."
"I always told myself…"
"…if I ever found Shipbreaker…"
"…this would be the weapon that finished it."
He smiled faintly.
"Never got the chance."
His weathered fingers lingered on the harpoon gun for another moment before he gently pushed it across the counter.
"You did what I couldn't."
"You ended the Island's greatest legend."
He looked directly at Sico.
"So this belongs to you now."
Sico rested his hand lightly upon the harpoon gun.
For a moment neither man spoke.
Outside, another fishing boat left the harbor beneath clear skies.
No one aboard glanced nervously toward the distant mist.
They no longer had reason to.
The burden Shipbreaker had placed upon Far Harbor for generations had finally passed into history, and in the quiet warmth of The Last Plank, the old hunter found himself smiling which not because revenge had belonged to him, but because, at long last, the Island was free.
______________________________________________
• 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:-