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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And stepped back out of the FOB to begin the next phase, with one last attempt to stop a war before it truly began.
Sico stepped out from the cover of the FOB and into the open air again, the wind brushing lightly across his face, carrying with it the faint scent of dust and metal and something else beneath it all, as the quiet tension of a place on the edge of change.
Behind him, the FOB remained alive in controlled motion. Radios murmured. Boots shifted softly over the ground. Weapons were checked and rechecked not out of fear, but out of discipline.
In front of him, the road to Nicola stretched forward.
And on that road, the next step was already beginning.
Preston moved with purpose through the staging line, his voice calm, low, and steady as he called the fifty soldiers to him. They came from different vehicles, different units, but once they gathered around him, they moved like one body that trained, focused, ready.
Fifty soldiers.
Not too many to look like an invasion.
Not too few to look vulnerable.
Just enough to show strength without aggression.
Preston stopped in front of them and looked each of them in the eye, not rushing, not raising his voice.
"We're not going in there to fight," he said. "We're going in there to talk."
A few of the soldiers shifted slightly, adjusting their grips on their rifles, listening closely.
"We move in formation," Preston continued. "Weapons lowered. Safety on. No sudden movements. No threats."
He let that settle.
"If they fire," he said, his voice tightening just slightly, "we fall back. We do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Understood?"
"Understood," the soldiers replied, a low, unified response.
Preston gave a single nod.
"Then let's go."
They moved out.
Boots crunching softly over gravel and dirt.
Fifty soldiers forming into a clean, visible line, their formation open enough to show they weren't hiding anything, tight enough to show discipline.
Behind them, at the FOB, Sico stood watching them go.
Sarah stepped up beside him, tablet in hand, her eyes tracking Preston's unit on her screen.
"Comms link established," she said quietly. "Direct line open. Air wing aware and monitoring."
Sico nodded.
"Keep the channel clear," he said. "I want every word."
"Understood."
High above, the vertibirds adjusted slightly, maintaining distance but keeping a clear line of sight on Preston's approach. Callahan's voice came in briefly over the command channel.
"Visual on Preston's unit," he said. "No movement from Nicola yet."
Sico's gaze remained fixed ahead.
"They're watching," he said quietly.
And they were.
As Preston and his fifty soldiers moved closer to Nicola, the outer structures of the settlement grew clearer with walls reinforced with scrap and metal plating, watchtowers rising above the edges, makeshift barricades lining the main entrance road.
And on those barricades.
Movement.
Figures stepping into position.
Rifles lifting.
The first line of Kevin's militia.
Preston raised one hand slowly as they approached, signaling his soldiers to slow their pace.
The formation eased, then came to a controlled stop just outside the main defensive line.
The distance between them and the militia was enough to speak.
Close enough to see faces.
Close enough to feel the tension.
The militia were exactly as Robert and MacCready had described.
Young.
Uneven.
Some of them held their rifles too tightly, knuckles white against the grips.
Others shifted their stance, unsure where to place their feet.
Their eyes moved constantly between Preston, between the soldiers behind him, between each other.
Fear.
Nervousness.
And under it, a fragile kind of determination.
One of them, slightly older than the rest, stepped forward half a pace.
His rifle was up.
Not firing.
But aimed.
"Stop right there!" he called out, his voice trying to sound strong, but carrying a tremor he couldn't quite hide.
Preston didn't move forward.
He didn't reach for his weapon.
He simply stood where he was, shoulders squared, hands visible, calm.
"We're not here to fight," Preston said clearly, his voice carrying across the distance without needing to shout.
The militia didn't lower their weapons.
But a few of them exchanged glances.
Preston continued.
"I'm here to speak with Kevin," he said. "Your leader."
The man at the front hesitated for just a fraction of a second.
His eyes flicked back over his shoulder, toward the interior of Nicola.
Then back to Preston.
"Why?" he asked, more sharply now, trying to regain control of his voice.
Preston held his gaze.
"To end this without anyone getting hurt," he said.
A few of the militia shifted again.
The words had landed.
They couldn't help it.
Because deep down, many of them didn't want this to become a fight either.
Preston took one small step forward thay not aggressive, not threatening, just enough to show he wasn't afraid.
"I'm offering him a chance," Preston said. "A peaceful one."
He gestured lightly, not toward his own soldiers, but toward the settlement behind the militia.
"You've got civilians in there," he said. "People who didn't choose this. People who will be caught in the middle if this turns into a battle."
The older militia member swallowed slightly.
His grip on the rifle shifted.
Behind him, one of the younger ones whispered something under his breath.
Preston's voice softened just a fraction.
"We don't want to fight you," he said. "We want to talk."
He let a small silence fall.
Then he said the line Sico had asked him to carry.
"Tell Kevin this," Preston said. "If he and his people lay down their weapons now, they will not be killed."
That line hit harder than anything else.
You could see it in the way a few of the militia members' eyes widened slightly.
In the way one of them lowered his rifle just a few centimeters before quickly raising it again, as if afraid of what that might mean.
Preston held his ground.
"We're giving him a chance," he repeated. "A chance to step down. To keep his people safe. To keep Nicola from becoming a battlefield."
The older militia member's breathing was visible now, his chest rising and falling a little faster.
His eyes flicked back again, toward the inside of Nicola.
Then to the line of soldiers standing behind Preston.
Then back to Preston.
"If this is a trick—" he started.
"It's not," Preston said simply.
No hesitation.
No elaboration.
Just the truth, delivered in a tone that didn't waver.
Behind Preston, the fifty soldiers stood exactly as they had been instructed.
Weapons lowered.
No aggressive movement.
No sudden gestures.
Just presence.
Discipline.
Control.
The kind of control that came from confidence, not from fear.
The militia could feel it.
They could see it.
And they knew, even if they didn't say it, that if this turned into a fight, they were outmatched.
The older militia member hesitated one more time.
Then he lowered his rifle slightly but not all the way, but enough to signal something had shifted.
"Wait here," he said.
He turned and spoke quickly to one of the others, who nodded and ran back into the settlement, disappearing behind the barricades and into the streets beyond.
Time stretched.
Seconds.
A minute.
Two.
The air between the two groups held steady, tight, but not breaking.
Preston didn't move.
His soldiers didn't move.
Across from them, the militia stood, rifles still up, but no one fired.
At the FOB, Sico watched everything unfold through the long-range optics handed to him by one of the commandos.
Beside him, Sarah listened to every word over the comms.
"They're holding," she said quietly.
Sico nodded slightly.
"Good," he said.
Robert stood just behind them, arms folded, eyes scanning the distant shapes of Nicola.
"They're listening," he said. "That's more than I expected."
MacCready, a few steps to the side, had his binoculars raised.
"Guy running inside's headed straight for the center," he said. "Probably going to Kevin."
Sico's gaze remained steady.
"Then now we see what kind of leader he really is," he said.
Back at the entrance to Nicola, Preston stood waiting.
Calm.
Still.
Present.
Not as an invader.
Not as an enemy.
But as a man offering a choice.
Around him, his soldiers held the line.
Behind the barricade, the militia held theirs.
The air held.
It held in that stretched, fragile silence between two groups of armed men standing on the edge of something that could still go either way.
At the barricade, the militia shifted their weight, some of them glancing back again and again toward the center of Nicola, waiting for an answer they couldn't give themselves.
Preston didn't move.
His breathing was steady.
His eyes stayed forward.
He knew that what came next would decide everything.
Back at the FOB, Sico adjusted the focus of the optics slightly, sharpening the distant shapes. Sarah leaned in just a little, listening to the quiet static of the open comm channel as if it might carry more than sound, like it might carry intention.
Minutes passed.
Then movement.
From inside Nicola, a small group emerged along the main street, moving with more purpose than the scattered militia.
At the center of that group was a man walking with his shoulders back and his chin slightly lifted.
Kevin.
Even from the distance, you could tell how he carried himself. Not like someone unsure. Not like someone afraid.
Like someone who believed the place already belonged to him.
He was flanked by a handful of his lieutenants with men older than the militia at the barricade, their weapons slung but ready, their eyes harder, more experienced, more committed.
The militia at the front shifted as Kevin approached, some of them stepping aside just enough to clear a path for him, others straightening unconsciously, as if his presence demanded it.
Preston watched him come.
He didn't move forward to meet him.
He waited where he stood.
Let Kevin walk into the space between them.
Kevin stopped just behind the barricade line, only a few meters away now from Preston and his soldiers.
For a moment, the two men simply looked at each other.
Measured.
Weighed.
Read.
Kevin's eyes flicked briefly across the line of Preston's soldiers, taking in their discipline, their formation, their restraint.
Then they returned to Preston.
"So," Kevin said at last, his voice carrying clearly, a faint edge of amusement in it. "The Freemasons send someone to talk."
Preston kept his voice even.
"They sent someone to give you a chance," he said.
A few of Kevin's lieutenants shifted at that.
Kevin's mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile.
"A chance," he repeated, almost tasting the word.
He tilted his head just a little.
"I'm listening," he said. "You've got my attention. Give me your 'peace offer.'"
Back at the FOB, Sarah leaned slightly closer to the comm receiver.
"He's engaging," she murmured.
Sico didn't answer.
His eyes never left the sightline.
At the barricade, Preston took a slow breath.
Then he spoke.
"The Freemasons Republic does not want to fight you," he said. "We don't want Nicola to become a battlefield. We don't want civilians caught in the middle of something they didn't choose."
Kevin's eyes narrowed just a fraction, but he didn't interrupt.
Preston continued.
"If you and your people lay down your weapons now," he said, "you will not be killed."
The words settled into the air.
Behind Kevin, one of the lieutenants shifted, glancing sideways.
Preston held Kevin's gaze.
"Not only that," he added, his voice steady, measured, sincere, "you will be given a new chance."
Kevin's brow lifted slightly.
"A chance to become a top officer in the Freemasons Army," Preston said.
That line drew a visible reaction.
Not just from Kevin, but from some of the militia behind him.
A murmur, barely audible, moved through them.
Because it was more than mercy.
It was opportunity.
Preston didn't stop there.
"You have leadership," he said. "You have people who follow you. Those are not things we want to destroy. Those are things we can use for the good of the Commonwealth."
He gestured lightly, not aggressively, just indicating the space around them.
"You can help build something stable. Something that protects people instead of putting them at risk."
Kevin listened.
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't scoff.
He just listened.
And for a brief moment.
It almost looked like he was considering it.
Back at the FOB, Robert leaned forward slightly.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath.
MacCready didn't say anything, but his grip tightened slightly on the binoculars.
Then Kevin's lips curved.
Slowly.
Not into a smile.
Into a sneer.
The kind that didn't come from uncertainty.
The kind that came from belief.
He let out a short, sharp breath of amusement.
"You think I started all of this," Kevin said, gesturing lightly around Nicola, "so I could lay down my weapons and become one of your officers?"
There was something in his tone now.
Something harder.
Preston didn't react.
"I think you started this because you believe you're doing something right," Preston said. "And I'm telling you there's another way to do it without—"
Kevin cut him off.
"With what?" he said, his voice rising just a little. "Without power?"
He took a step forward, closer to the barricade.
"You think I want to stand under your banner?" he asked. "Take orders? Follow someone else's vision?"
His eyes burned now, intensity rising.
"I didn't break Nicola away to become a subordinate," he said.
Behind him, his lieutenants shifted, some of them nodding slightly, feeding off his energy.
Preston's jaw tightened just a fraction.
"This isn't about your pride," Preston said. "It's about the people living behind you."
Kevin's eyes flashed.
"And I'm doing this for them," he snapped back.
He spread his arms slightly, as if presenting Nicola itself.
"For years," he said, "we've been scraping by under systems that never truly belonged to us. Always answering to someone. Always waiting for decisions from somewhere else."
His voice grew louder, more impassioned.
"I'm building something new," he said. "Something where we decide. Where we lead. Where we don't have to bow to anyone."
A few of the militia behind him straightened at that, their earlier uncertainty replaced, at least for the moment, by something like conviction.
Preston's expression hardened.
"And you think ruling over them by force makes that better?" he asked.
Kevin's smile came back, sharper now.
"Force?" he repeated.
Then he laughed.
It started low.
Then it grew.
A harsh, jagged laugh that carried across the barricade and into the quiet field beyond.
"You still don't get it," Kevin said when he finished, shaking his head slightly.
His eyes locked onto Preston's.
"I'm not just leading Nicola," he said.
There was a flicker in his expression then.
Something bigger.
Something more dangerous.
"I'm going to rule the Commonwealth."
The words landed like a stone dropping into still water.
Ripples of shock, disbelief, and tension moved through both sides.
Behind Preston, one of the soldiers shifted his stance unconsciously.
Behind Kevin, a couple of the younger militia members exchanged quick, uncertain looks like they hadn't fully known the scale of what he intended.
Then Kevin laughed again.
Louder.
More unhinged.
The sound carried across the field, sharp and jarring against the quiet.
At the FOB, MacCready lowered the binoculars slightly.
"Well," he muttered dryly, "that answers that."
Sico didn't respond.
But his eyes hardened.
Back at the barricade, Preston's patience had reached its edge.
His jaw tightened.
His shoulders squared just a little more.
"You're talking about throwing the entire Commonwealth into chaos," he said. "For your ambition."
Kevin shrugged.
"For my vision," he corrected.
The two men stood facing each other now, the space between them filled with everything that could not be reconciled.
Preston took a step closer to the barricade.
"This is your last chance," he said, his voice firm now. "Stand down. Lay down your weapons. Help us protect the people you claim to care about."
Kevin's answer came without hesitation.
"No."
Simple.
Final.
Certain.
Behind him, his lieutenants shifted, tightening their grips on their weapons.
Around Preston, the fifty soldiers felt the shift in the air.
The moment where talking ended and something else threatened to begin.
Preston held Kevin's gaze for one more second.
Then two.
He let out a slow breath.
Then he raised his hand slightly.
Not toward Kevin.
Toward his own men.
And with a short, sharp motion.
He gave the signal.
The horn call for retreat.
The sound cut through the air, clear and unmistakable.
Behind him, the fifty soldiers reacted instantly, training taking over. They began to step back in controlled motion, formation staying intact, weapons still lowered but ready.
Kevin watched them go, that same thin smile still on his face.
"Run back to your masters," he called out after them. "Tell them the Commonwealth belongs to me now."
Preston didn't answer.
He didn't turn back.
He simply led his soldiers away from the barricade, every step measured, every movement controlled.
Because the peaceful path had been offered.
And refused.
Back at the FOB, Sico lowered the optics slowly as the sound of the retreat signal echoed faintly across the distance.
Beside him, Sarah looked up from her tablet.
"He refused," she said quietly.
Sico nodded once.
"Yes," he said.
Robert exhaled slowly.
"So that's it, then."
Sico's gaze remained fixed on Nicola.
On the walls.
On the man inside who had just chosen ambition over peace.
His voice, when he spoke, was calm.
But there was steel in it now.
"Then we move to the next phase," he said.
Then the sound of boots returning over gravel reached the FOB before the figures themselves fully emerged from the tree line.
It wasn't rushed.
It wasn't panicked.
It was controlled.
Measured.
But there was weight in it.
The kind of weight that comes from knowing something important had just been decided and that the next step would not be as clean as anyone would have preferred.
From the edge of the FOB, Sico stood still, watching as Preston's unit came back into view. The formation was still intact. Weapons still lowered. Discipline still visible in every movement.
But the air around them felt heavier now.
The last chance had been offered.
And it had been rejected.
Preston reached the perimeter first, slowing his pace as his soldiers peeled off into their assigned positions, reforming into the wider defensive arc around the FOB.
He didn't speak immediately.
He just walked the last few meters toward Sico, Sarah, Robert, and MacCready, his eyes briefly meeting each of theirs in turn.
There was no need for words yet.
They already knew the outcome.
But still, Sico gave a small nod.
"Report," he said quietly.
Preston exhaled once before answering.
"He refused," he said. "Completely. No hesitation. No willingness to negotiate."
Sarah's gaze flicked down to her tablet, already logging the confirmation.
Robert folded his arms slightly.
"What about his people?" he asked. "Anyone show signs of breaking?"
Preston's jaw tightened just a little.
"Some of the militia did," he said. "You could see it in their faces. Doubt. Fear. Especially when I mentioned surrender and amnesty."
He paused.
"But his lieutenants?" he added, glancing briefly toward Nicola. "They reinforced him. Backed him up. Fed his confidence."
MacCready let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"Figures," he muttered.
Sico studied Preston for a moment longer.
"You spoke to him directly," Sico said. "You saw him up close."
Preston nodded once.
"I did."
Sico's voice stayed calm.
"Tell me what you saw," he said.
There was a short silence as Preston gathered his thoughts.
Then he spoke.
"He believes it," he said. "Every word of it."
Robert frowned slightly.
"Believes what?"
"That he's meant to lead all of this," Preston said. "Not just Nicola. The Commonwealth."
MacCready gave a dry, humorless huff.
"Guy's got ambition, I'll give him that."
Preston didn't smile.
"It's more than ambition," he said. "It's conviction. The kind that doesn't bend easily."
He paused.
"And it's dangerous," he added quietly.
Sico nodded once.
He understood exactly what Preston meant.
A man chasing power could be reasoned with.
A man who believed he was destined for it?
That was something else entirely.
"Did he show any hesitation?" Sarah asked, her tone focused, analytical.
Preston shook his head.
"Not when it mattered," he said. "There was a moment that looked brief when I thought he might consider it. But once he spoke, once he framed it as power and control… that was it."
Robert's gaze hardened slightly.
"Then we can't rely on him backing down," he said.
"No," Sico agreed quietly. "We can't."
A small silence settled over the group.
The kind that comes when everyone understands what the next step has to be.
Sico looked from one of them to the other.
Preston.
Sarah.
Robert.
MacCready.
And above them, in the sky, the faint shape of a vertibird circling as Callahan still on overwatch.
"We move to the next phase," Sico said again, more firmly this time.
He turned slightly toward the interior of the FOB.
"Bring everyone to the command table," he said. "We plan this properly. No mistakes. No unnecessary risks."
They all nodded.
Within minutes, the central area of the FOB shifted into a command space.
The crate table with the map of Nicola was cleared and reset, additional markers placed, updated intel sheets added, binoculars and radio units positioned at the corners.
A lantern was set to the side as the afternoon light began its slow drift toward evening.
The five of them gathered around the table.
Preston stood on one side, arms loosely at his sides.
Sarah stood opposite him, tablet ready, stylus in hand.
Robert and MacCready took positions along the flanks of the table, each already scanning the map with practiced eyes.
And then there was Sico.
At the head of it.
Calm.
Focused.
Already thinking three steps ahead.
Above them, Callahan's voice came in over the command speaker as his vertibird adjusted position.
"Air wing holding pattern," he said. "We're listening in."
"Stay with us," Sico replied. "You're part of this plan."
"Copy that."
Sico rested his hands lightly on the edge of the crate, looking down at the map.
Nicola.
Every road.
Every barricade.
Every tower.
Every civilian block.
Every possible route in and out.
"This happens tomorrow," he said.
No one argued.
They all knew it already.
They needed time to position.
Time to prepare.
Time to give the civilians one last chance to be clear of the fighting zones.
But not enough time for Kevin to strengthen his defenses.
"First priority," Sico continued, "is civilian safety."
Sarah nodded immediately.
"I can coordinate broadcast warnings," she said. "Short-range speakers, comm signals, anything we can push into the settlement to tell civilians to move to designated safe zones."
Robert added, "We've already identified which sectors are mostly civilian housing. We can mark those as no-fire zones unless absolutely necessary."
MacCready tapped one section of the map.
"And we keep our commandos inside, guiding people away from the worst of it before anything kicks off," he said. "Quietly. Without tipping off Kevin too early."
Sico nodded.
"Good," he said. "We isolate the civilians from the fighting as much as possible."
He shifted his hand slightly to the outer sectors of Nicola.
"Second priority," he said, "is containment."
He traced a rough circle around the settlement.
"We lock down the perimeter. No one in, no one out, unless we control it."
Robert nodded.
"We can position units along these approach roads," he said, marking them lightly. "Cut off reinforcement or escape."
Preston added, "My scouts know the terrain around the south and east edges. We can close off those routes quietly before the main push."
Sico glanced toward Sarah.
"Comms coordination?" he asked.
"Already mapping it," she said. "Every unit will have direct contact with command and with each other. No confusion."
"Good."
Sico's finger moved inward now.
Toward the heart of Nicola.
Toward the town hall structure Kevin had taken as his command center.
"Third priority," Sico said, his voice lowering slightly, "is leadership decapitation."
The words were clinical.
But the intent behind them was precise.
"We isolate Kevin and his inner circle," he said. "We cut them off from their militia. Without him, this structure collapses."
MacCready nodded slowly.
"Commandos can get close," he said. "We've already mapped entry routes into the inner district."
Robert added, "We hit his command center fast, controlled, surgical."
Preston looked at the map, then back at Sico.
"You want him captured?" he asked.
Sico didn't hesitate.
"Yes," he said.
A small silence followed that.
"Alive?" MacCready asked.
Sico's gaze didn't waver.
"Yes," he repeated. "If possible."
Sarah made a quick note.
"That gives us leverage," she said. "And it shows the rest of the militia we're not here to execute them."
"Exactly," Sico said.
He straightened slightly, looking at all of them.
"We do not treat this as a slaughter," he said. "We treat this as an operation to restore order."
Robert gave a short nod.
"Understood."
MacCready added quietly, "We'll keep it tight."
Preston crossed his arms loosely now, thinking.
"What about their heavy units?" he asked. "Tanks. Growlers."
Sico looked back down at the map.
"Air wing handles the heavy threats," he said. "Callahan disables, not destroys, unless necessary."
Callahan's voice came in immediately.
"Copy that," he said. "We can target mobility. Tracks. Engines. Keep them from moving without blowing them apart."
Sarah nodded approvingly.
"That minimizes collateral damage," she said.
Sico's finger moved across the map one more time, drawing all the pieces together.
"Timing," he said.
Everyone leaned in slightly.
"We begin at first light," he said. "Low visibility, but enough for coordinated movement."
He looked at Preston.
"Your unit leads the southern approach," he said. "Visible presence, controlled advance, draw attention."
Preston nodded.
"Understood."
Sico looked to Robert and MacCready.
"Your commandos move inside ahead of that," he said. "Secure civilian zones. Prepare for the strike on Kevin's position."
Both men nodded.
"Already in motion," Robert said.
Sico glanced to Sarah.
"You coordinate comms, civilian warnings, and real-time adjustments," he said.
"Already on it," she replied.
"And Callahan," Sico said, looking up slightly toward the sky.
"Air overwatch from the start," he said. "You engage only on my order unless our ground forces are directly threatened."
"Understood," Callahan said.
The plan settled over them.
Not rushed.
Not improvised.
Deliberate.
Controlled.
Focused.
Sico let the silence sit for a moment after laying it all out.
Let everyone feel the weight of what they were about to do.
Then he looked at Preston again.
"One more thing," he said.
Preston met his eyes.
"When you stood in front of him," Sico said, "when you spoke to Kevin… did you see anything else? Anything we should know before we go in there tomorrow?"
Preston thought for a moment.
Then he answered honestly.
"Yes," he said.
"What?" Sico asked.
Preston's expression hardened slightly.
"He's not afraid of us," he said. "Not yet."
MacCready frowned faintly.
"Yet?"
Preston nodded once.
"He thinks he's already won," he said. "In his head, this isn't a risk. It's a step toward what he believes is his future."
Robert's jaw set slightly.
"Then tomorrow," he said quietly, "we show him the reality."
Sico didn't smile.
He didn't need to.
His voice, when he spoke, was calm.
But there was finality in it now.
"Yes," he said.
"Tomorrow," he continued, looking at each of them in turn, "we end this."
The wind moved softly through the trees around the FOB.
The sun dipped lower in the sky.
And across the distance, Nicola sat waiting as the people inside were unaware that by this time tomorrow, everything inside it would be different.
______________________________________________
• 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:-