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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Back into everything that was waiting, because this was far from over.
The door to the prison block closed behind Preston with a heavy metallic thud that seemed to echo longer than it should have.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Didn't turn.
Didn't speak.
He just stood there in the corridor, staring at the reinforced door that now separated Carver from the rest of the world.
From the board he had been playing on.
From the chaos he had set into motion.
From the people he had cost their lives.
Twenty-three.
The number came back again, uninvited.
It didn't feel real yet.
Not fully.
It never did right away.
It came later.
In the quiet moments.
In the empty spaces where voices used to be.
In the absence.
Preston exhaled slowly, then finally turned away.
"Keep rotations tight," he told the guards without looking back. "No one goes near that cell alone. Ever."
"Yes, General," one of them replied immediately.
Preston nodded once.
Then he stepped out of the prison facility and back into the open air of Sanctuary.
The shift hit him immediately.
The sounds.
The movement.
Life continuing.
People walking between buildings.
Voices carrying across the settlement.
Tools clanking somewhere in the distance.
The world hadn't stopped.
It never did.
Even when it probably should have.
But there was something else too.
Something quieter.
Something heavier.
People had already noticed.
The convoy returning.
The damaged vehicles.
The missing soldiers.
The wounded rushed straight to the hospital.
Word had started spreading.
It always spread fast.
Faster than any official report ever could.
Preston walked past a group of settlers standing near one of the pathways.
They went quiet as he approached.
Not out of fear.
Out of understanding.
One of them nodded slightly.
Respect.
Sympathy.
Maybe both.
Preston returned the nod faintly, but didn't slow down.
He couldn't stop yet.
Not until everything that needed to be said… was said.
The Freemasons Headquarters stood ahead, solid and familiar.
A place of order.
Of decisions.
Of responsibility.
And right now, it felt heavier than usual.
Preston pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The noise from outside dulled instantly, replaced by the quieter, more controlled environment within.
Papers.
Voices kept low.
The occasional shuffle of boots across the floor.
People working.
Always working.
He moved through the hall without hesitation, passing a few officers who glanced up briefly as he went by.
They didn't stop him.
Didn't ask questions.
They could see it on him.
This wasn't a casual visit.
When he reached the office door, he didn't knock.
He pushed it open and stepped inside.
Sico was exactly where he expected him to be.
Seated behind his desk.
Surrounded by stacks of documents.
Maps spread across one side.
Reports neatly organized in piles that were slowly being worked through.
The man didn't look up immediately.
His pen moved across the paper in front of him, finishing whatever line he was on before he finally set it down.
Then he looked up.
His eyes landed on Preston.
And just like that, he understood.
No words yet.
Just a look.
Reading.
Measuring.
Taking in the dust still clinging to Preston's armor.
The faint marks of battle.
The weight in his posture.
"You're back," Sico said quietly.
Preston stepped forward.
"Yes, sir."
There was a pause.
Not long.
But enough.
Then Preston spoke again.
"Carver is in custody."
That part came clean.
Direct.
Mission accomplished.
But it didn't end there.
Sico didn't interrupt.
Didn't respond immediately.
He just watched.
Waiting.
Preston exhaled once.
Then said it.
"We got him."
A beat.
"Operation was successful."
Another pause.
Then his voice lowered slightly.
"But it wasn't clean."
Sico leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unchanged.
"How bad?"
Preston didn't hesitate this time.
"Twenty-three KIA."
The words didn't echo in the room.
But they didn't need to.
They settled heavily between them.
Sico didn't react outwardly.
No visible shock.
No immediate response.
But his eyes shifted.
Just slightly.
The weight of the number registering.
Twenty-three.
Not just a statistic.
Not just a report.
People.
Soldiers.
Names.
Families.
Silence followed.
Longer this time.
Then Sico leaned forward slightly, folding his hands together on the desk.
"Walk me through it."
Preston nodded.
And he did.
From the beginning.
Diamond City.
The warehouse.
The arrest.
The ambush.
The betrayal inside the guards.
The second ambush on the road.
The missile strike.
The kill zone.
The reinforcements.
The counterattack.
Every detail.
Every decision.
Every moment that had mattered.
He didn't rush it.
Didn't leave anything out.
And Sico listened.
Completely.
No interruptions.
No questions.
Just absorbing everything.
By the time Preston finished, the room felt heavier than before.
Not just from the loss.
From the implications.
From what it all meant.
Sico leaned back again, his gaze drifting briefly toward the maps on the side of the desk.
Then back to Preston.
"He planned both engagements," Sico said.
Not a question.
A conclusion.
Preston nodded.
"Yeah."
"He wanted us in Diamond City."
"And he wanted us on that road."
Sico's jaw tightened slightly.
"Which means his network is still active."
"Yeah," Preston said again, quieter this time. "We cut off the head."
"But the rest is still moving."
Another silence.
Then Sico reached for a different document on his desk, but didn't open it yet.
Instead, he looked back at Preston.
"You did what you had to do."
Preston didn't respond.
Because that didn't change anything.
Didn't bring anyone back.
Sico studied him for a moment longer.
Then spoke again.
"We'll deal with what's left of Carver's operation."
His voice was calm.
Measured.
"But first…"
He tapped the document lightly against the desk.
"We take care of our own."
Preston's eyes shifted slightly.
Sico continued.
"I want you to speak to Magnolia."
Preston straightened slightly.
"Yes, sir."
Sico's tone didn't change.
"Set up pensions for the families of the fallen."
He paused.
Then added.
"Not symbolic."
"Not temporary."
"Enough."
Preston held his gaze.
Sico continued.
"Enough for them to live."
"Properly."
"At least one to two years."
The words were deliberate.
Carefully chosen.
Because this mattered.
More than most things they would decide today.
Preston nodded slowly.
"I'll make sure it's done."
Sico watched him for a second.
Then gave a small nod back.
"Good."
Another pause.
Then Sico leaned forward slightly again.
"And Preston."
Preston looked at him.
Sico's voice lowered just a fraction.
"This doesn't end here."
Preston's expression didn't change.
"I know."
Sico studied him for a moment longer.
Then Sico studied him for a moment longer.
Not just looking at him.
Reading him.
Measuring the weight Preston was carrying and how much of it he could still hold before it started to crack somewhere deeper.
Then, slowly, Sico leaned back in his chair again.
His fingers tapped once against the edge of the desk, a quiet, controlled motion that broke the stillness just enough to signal a shift.
"We're not done with him," Sico said.
Preston didn't need to ask who.
There was only one person that sentence could be about.
Carver.
Sico's gaze sharpened slightly.
"I want you to prepare for his interrogation."
The words were calm.
But there was something beneath them now.
Focus.
Intent.
Preston straightened just a fraction.
"Yes, sir."
Sico nodded once, then reached for one of the folders on his desk, flipping it open and glancing over the contents briefly before speaking again.
"We didn't just capture a smuggler," he continued. "We captured a system."
Preston's eyes narrowed slightly.
Sico looked up at him.
"That kind of operation doesn't run on one man," he said. "Not at that scale."
Preston nodded slowly.
"I know."
"The ambush," Sico added. "The coordination. The infiltration inside Diamond City Security."
His voice remained level, but each point landed with precision.
"That's structure."
"That's funding."
"That's planning."
He closed the folder with a soft but decisive motion.
"And that means it's still out there."
The room seemed to settle around that truth.
Preston felt it.
Because he had already come to the same conclusion out on the road, standing in the aftermath of the ambush.
Carver had never been the whole picture.
Just the most visible part of it.
"We need everything he has," Sico continued. "Names. Routes. Contacts."
A pause.
Then his voice dropped slightly.
"And the money."
Preston's gaze lifted again.
Sico met it directly.
"The taxes he's been skimming. The supplies he's been diverting."
His jaw tightened just enough to show what he thought of that.
"He didn't just steal from us," Sico said. "He drained entire settlements."
Preston exhaled quietly.
He had seen it.
He had walked through those places.
Understocked supply lines.
Shortages that didn't make sense.
Communities struggling more than they should have been.
All of it…
Connected.
Sico leaned forward slightly again.
"I want to know where it went."
Every word deliberate.
"Every cap."
"Every crate."
"Every hidden stash."
Preston nodded once.
"We'll get it."
Sico held his gaze for a second longer.
Then asked quietly.
"Will we?"
It wasn't doubt.
Not exactly.
It was a question of method.
Of how far they were willing to go.
Preston didn't look away.
"We'll get what we need," he said.
Sico studied him.
Then gave a faint nod.
"Good."
Another pause settled in the room, but this one was different.
Less heavy.
More focused.
The kind that came before action.
Sico leaned back once more, but his attention didn't drift this time.
It stayed locked.
Sharp.
"We need to understand how deep this corruption goes," he said.
"Because if Carver had people inside Diamond City Security…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Preston did it for him.
"Then he could have people inside other settlements."
Sico nodded.
"Exactly."
A quiet tension settled between them again.
Not from uncertainty.
From the scale of what they were dealing with.
"This isn't just cleanup," Sico continued. "This is containment."
Preston's jaw tightened slightly.
"Then we start with him."
Sico tilted his head just slightly.
"Not just start," he corrected. "We break him."
The words weren't loud.
They weren't aggressive.
But they carried weight.
Because Sico didn't say things like that lightly.
Preston didn't respond immediately.
Not because he disagreed.
But because he understood what that meant.
Interrogation wasn't just questions.
Not when someone like Carver was involved.
Not when the stakes were this high.
Sico watched him for a moment.
Then added, quieter now.
"He's already accepted that he lost this round."
Preston thought back to the look in Carver's eyes.
That shift.
That moment where the certainty had faded.
"Yeah," Preston said.
Sico nodded slightly.
"That's where we start."
Another pause.
Then Sico reached for a different file and slid it slightly across the desk, not fully offering it yet, but making its presence clear.
"I want you to go in prepared," he said.
"Not just as a soldier."
"Not just as a commander."
His eyes met Preston's again.
"But as someone who understands exactly what this cost."
That landed differently.
Because it wasn't about tactics.
It wasn't about strategy.
It was about weight.
Responsibility.
The kind that sat in your chest long after the fight was over.
Preston didn't look away.
"I understand."
Sico held that for a second.
Then finally pushed the file fully across the desk.
"Good."
Preston stepped forward and took it.
The folder felt heavier than it should have.
Not because of what was inside.
But because of what it represented.
Sico leaned back again, his posture settling slightly now that the direction had been set.
"Take a few hours," he said. "Get your head straight."
Preston didn't move.
Sico noticed.
"You're no use in that room if you're still standing on that battlefield," he added.
That was true.
Preston knew it.
But stepping away didn't feel right.
Not yet.
"Understood," he said anyway.
Sico nodded.
"Then use the time."
Another pause.
Then, more quietly.
"And Preston."
Preston looked up again.
Sico's expression hadn't changed much.
But his voice had softened just enough to matter.
"Don't go in there angry."
Preston didn't answer right away.
Because that part…
That part was harder.
Sico watched him.
"You want answers," he said. "Not satisfaction."
That settled it.
Preston gave a small nod.
"Yeah."
Sico leaned back slightly, satisfied.
"Then go."
That was the dismissal.
Preston turned and walked toward the door, the file in his hand, his thoughts already shifting again.
From the battlefield.
To the cell.
To the man waiting inside it.
The door opened.
Then closed behind him.
Back out in the hallway, the world felt the same as before.
But Preston didn't.
Not exactly.
He moved through the headquarters again, slower this time.
Not because he was tired.
Because he was thinking.
About the interrogation.
About what Carver knew.
About how much of it he would give up.
And what it would take to get the rest.
Outside, Sanctuary continued its quiet rhythm.
But now Preston saw something else in it.
Something that hadn't been as clear before.
Faces.
People.
Lives that depended on what happened next.
On whether they could stop whatever Carver had started.
On whether they could find the rest of it before it spread further.
He exhaled slowly.
Then turned slightly, adjusting his path.
Not toward the prison.
Not yet.
Toward Magnolia.
There was still one thing he had to do before anything else.
Because Sico was right.
They took care of their own first.
The interrogation could wait a little longer.
But the families of the twenty-three?
They couldn't.
And Preston wasn't about to make them wait.
The hallway outside Sico's office felt quieter than it should have.
Not silent.
Sanctuary was never silent.
There were always footsteps, distant voices, the faint hum of generators, the clatter of tools from somewhere deeper in the settlement.
But to Preston, it all felt muted.
Like something had been turned down just enough that the space between sounds started to matter more than the sounds themselves.
He walked without rushing, the folder tucked under his arm, his boots steady against the worn floor.
His mind wasn't on the file.
Not yet.
It was still back out there.
On the road.
On the wreckage.
On the number that refused to leave.
Twenty-three.
It followed him like a shadow.
He pushed through the main doors of the headquarters and stepped back outside into the open air of Sanctuary.
The light hit him first.
Then the sounds returned fully.
People moving between buildings.
A hammer striking metal in the distance.
A child's voice somewhere off to the side.
Life continuing.
It always did.
Even after something like that.
Especially after something like that.
Preston stood there for a second, letting it settle.
Then he moved.
He turned toward Magnolia's office.
Because Sico was right.
There was an order to things.
And this part came first.
Magnolia's office sat on the quieter side of the administrative block.
Not isolated.
But removed enough that it felt different from the constant movement of the central areas.
Preston pushed the door open gently.
Inside, the space was organized but lived-in.
Stacks of records.
Ledgers.
Carefully arranged documents tied with worn but sturdy bindings.
Magnolia herself sat behind her desk, reviewing something with quiet focus.
She looked up the moment the door opened.
Her eyes found Preston.
And just like Sico had done earlier, she understood.
No need for words yet.
Just a look.
"You're back," she said softly.
Preston nodded once.
"Yeah."
Magnolia set her pen down slowly, her expression shifting slightly as she took in the details from the dust, the posture, the weight he hadn't managed to hide.
"How bad?" she asked.
Preston stepped forward, stopping just short of the desk.
"Twenty-three," he said.
He didn't say KIA.
He didn't need to.
Magnolia's eyes dropped for just a second.
Not in avoidance.
In acknowledgment.
In respect.
Then she looked back up.
"Names?" she asked quietly.
Preston held out the folder.
She took it carefully, opening it without hesitation.
Her eyes moved across the pages.
Reading.
Processing.
One by one.
The room stayed silent while she did.
Preston didn't interrupt.
Didn't move.
He just stood there.
Waiting.
Because this part mattered.
More than anything else he had to do today.
Magnolia closed the folder slowly.
"Families?" she asked.
"Most of them," Preston replied. "Some had people back in smaller settlements. A few… no one listed."
Magnolia nodded.
"We'll track them," she said. "No one gets missed."
Preston exhaled quietly.
"Sico wants pensions set up."
Magnolia's eyes lifted again.
"How much?"
"Enough," Preston said.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Define enough."
Preston met her gaze.
"One to two years," he said. "Full support. Food, housing, caps."
Magnolia didn't hesitate.
"Done."
No debate.
No hesitation.
Just action.
She turned immediately, pulling another ledger closer, flipping it open and beginning to write.
"Priority processing," she muttered to herself. "We'll reallocate from central reserves, adjust supply lines where needed…"
Her voice trailed slightly as she worked.
Preston watched her for a moment.
Then spoke again.
"Make sure it's personal," he said.
Magnolia paused.
Looked up.
Preston's voice didn't waver.
"They're not numbers."
She held his gaze for a second.
Then nodded.
"They won't be treated like they are."
That was enough.
Preston gave a small nod back.
Magnolia went back to work immediately, already drafting notices, organizing distribution schedules, marking names.
Efficient.
Precise.
Respectful.
Preston turned to leave.
But paused at the door.
"One more thing," he said.
Magnolia glanced up again.
Preston hesitated for just a second.
Then said it.
"Make sure they know why."
Magnolia didn't ask what he meant.
She understood.
"They will," she said quietly.
Preston nodded once.
Then stepped out.
The door closed behind him.
And just like that, the first part was done.
Not finished.
Never finished.
But started.
Handled.
As well as it could be.
The walk back across Sanctuary felt different this time.
Not lighter.
But clearer.
There was still weight.
Still loss.
Still everything that had happened.
But now it had direction.
A place to go.
A purpose.
Preston adjusted the file in his hand and turned toward the prison.
No more delays.
No more waiting.
It was time.
He didn't go in immediately.
He stopped just outside.
Took a breath.
Then another.
Not to calm himself.
To center.
Sico's words echoed in his mind.
Don't go in there angry.
You want answers. Not satisfaction.
Preston closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them again.
And stepped inside.
An hour later.
The room was ready.
Not large.
Not comfortable.
Just functional.
A metal table.
Three chairs.
Concrete walls that absorbed sound more than they carried it.
A single overhead light casting a steady, unflinching glow across the space.
Carver sat on one side.
Still restrained.
But differently now.
Secured to the chair.
Controlled.
Contained.
He looked up as the door opened.
Preston entered first.
Sico followed.
The door closed behind them with a quiet click.
No guards inside.
Not visible.
But present.
Always present.
Carver's eyes moved between them.
Not nervous.
Not defiant.
Just… aware.
"You took your time," he said.
Sico pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down calmly.
"Not really," Sico replied.
Preston remained standing for a moment longer.
Then took the seat beside Sico.
The room settled.
Silence stretched briefly.
Then Sico leaned forward slightly.
"Let's not waste it," he said.
Carver tilted his head.
"Straight to it?"
Sico didn't blink.
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then.
"You've already lost," Sico said.
No aggression.
No raised voice.
Just fact.
Carver's gaze flicked toward Preston briefly.
Then back.
"I figured that part out," he said quietly.
Sico nodded.
"Good."
He placed a hand lightly on the table.
"Then we don't need to play games."
Carver exhaled slowly.
Not tired.
Not defeated in the usual sense.
But… finished.
"You want to know how it worked," he said.
Sico didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Carver looked at Preston.
Then back to Sico.
"Fine."
And just like that…
He started talking.
It came out steady.
Not rushed.
Not reluctant.
Just deliberate.
Like a man laying out something he had built piece by piece.
"The network started small," Carver said. "Supply routes. Trade adjustments. Nothing that would raise flags."
Sico listened.
Completely.
Preston didn't interrupt.
"Then we expanded," Carver continued. "Added people inside settlements. Not leaders. Never leaders. Too visible."
"Workers. Guards. Clerks. People who handled things no one else paid attention to."
Preston's jaw tightened slightly.
Carver noticed.
Didn't stop.
"Diamond City was a hub," he said. "But not the only one."
Sico spoke for the first time since it started.
"Where else?"
Carver met his gaze.
"Bunker Hill. A few smaller trade posts. Some routes near the northern farms."
Sico nodded once.
"Names."
Carver gave them.
One by one.
No hesitation.
Preston wrote them down.
Every single one.
Then came the money.
"The taxes," Sico said.
Carver leaned back slightly in his chair.
"That's the part you really care about."
"Yes," Sico replied simply.
Carver didn't smile this time.
"There were cuts," he said. "Small at first. Hard to track. Spread across shipments."
"Caps diverted before they were logged."
"Supplies rerouted and resold."
Sico's voice stayed level.
"Where?"
Carver's eyes held his.
"Hidden caches," he said. "Different locations. Rotating."
"Coordinates," Preston said.
Carver looked at him.
Then nodded slightly.
"You'll want to write this down."
And he gave them.
Every location.
Every stash.
Every route used to move it.
Time passed.
No one rushed it.
No one pushed harder than necessary.
Because they didn't need to.
Carver wasn't holding anything back.
Not anymore.
He had already accepted it.
The loss.
The end of the system he had built.
And in that acceptance…
Everything came out.
When it finally slowed.
When there was nothing left to say.
Silence returned to the room.
But it felt different now.
Not heavy.
Not uncertain.
Complete.
Sico leaned back slightly in his chair.
Studying Carver.
Then nodded once.
"That's everything?" he asked.
Carver didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Sico held his gaze for a moment longer.
Then stood.
Preston followed.
Carver didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't try to add anything.
He just sat there.
Watching.
But this time…
Not calculating.
Not planning.
Just watching.
Sico turned toward the door.
"Secure him," he said.
The door opened.
Guards stepped in.
Preston paused for a second longer.
Looking at Carver.
Then turned.
And walked out.
Outside the room, the world felt steadier.
Not easier.
Not lighter.
But clearer.
They had what they needed.
Now came the next part, with it up and finishing it. And making sure those twenty-three meant something, as their sacrifice was worth the price.
______________________________________________
• 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:-