If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
They crossed the boundary an hour later. The Geiger counters fell silent. The sky brightened. The Sea was behind them now, as they drive toward Sanctuary.
The road out of the Glowing Sea gradually gave way to sturdier ground, the twisted landscape smoothing out into the cracked highways and reclaimed dirt roads that webbed the outer edges of Minutemen territory. In the distance, the first signs of human effort reappeared—floodlights on rusted pylons, warning signs marked with the Minutemen emblem, and checkpoints manned by alert guards with binoculars and scoped rifles. As the truck rattled forward, the air tasted clearer. Fresher. Not just from the drop in radiation, but from something deeper—hope, maybe. Or anticipation.
Virgil sat in the back of the truck, bundled in extra padding, cradling a small satchel stuffed with notes, hand-drawn diagrams, and a sealed vial or two that had somehow survived the transformation. He was pale, his frame leaner than it had ever been, but there was a fire behind his eyes—a clarity that hadn't been there before. Occasionally, he glanced out through the small slit in the side of the truck's covered bed, watching the world outside pass by like a dream.
Then, as they crested a final hill, he saw it.
Sanctuary.
Even from a distance, it looked nothing like the sleepy suburb it had once been. The towering perimeter wall was the first thing he noticed—thick concrete layered with sheet metal, standing over three stories high. It wrapped around the settlement like a fortress, punctuated at intervals with tall watchtowers. And each tower was manned. Guards in Minutemen armor stood vigil, eyes sharp, movements precise. On top of every tower, mounted machine guns gleamed in the morning light, tracking slowly back and forth in automated arcs.
Virgil blinked. It wasn't fear he felt. It was the opposite—safety. For the first time in years, he wasn't walking into danger. He was being welcomed into something that had grown strong, structured, alive.
"Jesus…" he muttered, voice hoarse with awe. "You turned it into a citadel."
In the front seat, Sico smiled without turning around. "Told you we weren't just a ragtag militia anymore."
The truck rolled forward and approached the front gate, where two guards waved them through after a quick scan. The gate hissed open with hydraulic ease, and the moment they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere changed. The noise of industry hummed in the distance—machinery working, people shouting orders, hammering and welding. Children darted through the streets, laughing. Traders rolled carts down reinforced roads. Minutemen soldiers, engineers, medics, and civilians alike moved with purpose.
It wasn't just a settlement.
It was a city.
Sico turned his head slightly and looked back at Virgil. "We're heading straight to the Science Department. That's where you'll be stationed."
Virgil's brow lifted. "You're sure?"
Sico nodded. "You'll report to Mel—he's the head of the department. But you'll be running Bioscience. That's your domain. You built half the Institute's biology protocols. You know more than anyone else alive about genetic manipulation, cloning, and cellular regeneration. We need you."
Virgil didn't reply right away. He was still staring out the window, soaking it in—the order, the life, the purpose this place radiated. It was a stark contrast to the sterile, hidden corridors of the Institute or the radioactive wilderness of the Sea. This was real.
The truck turned down a well-guarded avenue toward the north side of Sanctuary. A large steel structure loomed ahead, connected by reinforced tunnels to several domed labs and tall ventilation towers. A Minutemen flag flapped in the breeze above the entrance, beside a blue banner labeled "Science Division." It was massive—clearly repurposed from several pre-war buildings stitched together with new tech. Solar panels lined the roof. Pipelines traced the walls like arteries.
The truck hissed to a stop near the side entrance, and the team climbed out. Sico stepped around to open the back and offered Virgil a hand.
"You ready?" he asked.
Virgil took the hand, steadied himself, and nodded. "Yeah. Let's do this."
Inside, the Science Department was a different world altogether. Glass corridors crisscrossed between lab sections. Security checkpoints blinked green as Sico led Virgil through, nodding to the guards posted at each junction. Monitors displayed molecular schematics, atmospheric readouts, and logs from field experiments. Technicians in lab coats hustled from room to room. In one section, robotic limbs were being assembled; in another, crops were growing under artificial lights.
And at the center of it all stood Mel.
He was tall, lean, and had the look of someone who had long since given up on sleep as a necessary part of life. His salt-and-pepper beard was neatly trimmed, and he wore a dark blue coat marked with the insignia of his department. At his hip was a datapad, blinking with messages. As he spotted them, he stepped forward, giving Sico a brief nod before turning his attention to Virgil.
"So," Mel said, scanning him up and down. "You're the famous Virgil."
"Not sure about 'famous,'" Virgil muttered. "More like infamous."
Mel cracked a grin. "Well, infamous gets the job done sometimes. I've read your notes. The ones you passed through Nora, and the ones you gave Sico now. Your work's brilliant. Your method's terrifying. But effective. We need that kind of mind here."
Virgil looked around the lab. "You really think there's a place for me here? After everything?"
Mel nodded. "We don't waste second chances. Especially not ones that walk out of the Glowing Sea alive."
Sico clapped Virgil on the back. "He's your man now. Head of Bioscience. He answers to you, but give him the space to work."
Mel extended a hand. "Welcome to the team."
Virgil hesitated, then shook it firmly.
It was real.
They gave him his own lab suite at the far end of the wing—a glass-walled section with its own power supply, environmental controls, and sterilization unit. As he walked inside, he passed through a decontamination mist, feeling it tickle against his skin even through the suit. The room was spacious, lined with equipment that had once been scavenged from Vault-Tec facilities and upgraded with Minutemen tech. A long workbench stretched across the left wall, while the right held cryo-storage units and a portable gene sequencer. In the back, a window looked out over a hydroponics farm being monitored by two researchers.
"This… is mine?" Virgil asked, stunned.
"For now," Mel said. "If you want more, earn it. But something tells me you will."
Virgil turned slowly, absorbing every detail. He set his bag down on the table and drew in a slow, deep breath.
Then he turned back to Sico, something vulnerable in his expression.
"I don't know how to thank you."
"You don't have to," Sico replied. "Just do what you do best. Help people."
A beat passed, then Virgil nodded. "I will."
With that, Sico stepped out, leaving Virgil alone with Mel and a small team of assistants who had already begun organizing the lab under his direction. For a while, Virgil simply stood there, letting the silence of the lab wash over him. Then, with steady hands, he unpacked the notes he'd written during the transformation—the erratic pages, the DNA sketches, the hand-drawn diagrams of altered nuclei. He laid them out one by one, smoothing the creases, and began sorting through them.
He was home.
And the work had only just begun.
Then Sico went to see Robert and the Commandos, who were still waiting by the truck, leaning against the metal frame and chatting quietly. Their hazmat suits were smudged with dirt and dust, and their shoulders sagged with fatigue—but there was still that watchful energy in their stances, the kind that never quite left soldiers who'd just returned from deep into the wasteland.
Robert noticed Sico first and pushed off from the truck with a small grunt. "All good with Virgil?"
Sico nodded, eyes lingering a moment on the Science Division's entrance, where the doors had hissed shut behind him just minutes ago. "Yeah. He's in. Got his own lab, access to everything he needs. I think he'll do good work."
The Commandos looked at each other and exchanged tired but satisfied looks. They had guarded him, trusted him, brought him out of the Glowing Sea alive. Now he was behind fortified walls, part of something bigger. Something better.
"Well," Robert said, glancing down at the dirt-caked front of his hazmat suit, "I don't know about you guys, but I'd like to not glow in the dark tonight."
That earned a few laughs, subdued but genuine. Sico smirked and nodded toward the eastern sector. "Hospital's waiting. Curie's expecting us."
They climbed back into the truck, this time with a little more relief in their movements. The job was done, the weight a little lighter now. As the engine rumbled back to life, Sico took a long breath and let it settle. This was what progress felt like.
The drive to the hospital wasn't far, but it took them through the heart of Sanctuary. The main roads were wide and clean, lined with buildings that had either been restored or built anew from sturdy scavenged material. People moved with purpose—builders on scaffolding, traders haggling near the marketplace, soldiers in training at a small drill yard. It was alive. It was growing.
And people noticed them.
The Commandos in their hazmat suits were hard to miss, especially with the Minutemen logo painted across the truck doors. A few residents offered nods of respect. One child waved enthusiastically before being pulled gently back by a concerned parent.
They rolled up to the hospital's southern wing, a sleek building that had once been a pre-war clinic but was now transformed into a modern, functioning facility. The windows were tinted, the doors automated, and a soft chime rang as they stepped inside.
Immediately, the smell of antiseptic and clean linens hit them—comforting, in a strange way. The lighting was soft, the walls lined with posters about radiation safety, first aid procedures, and emergency protocols. A nurse behind the front desk looked up and gave them a friendly smile.
"Back from the Sea?" she asked knowingly.
Sico nodded. "Scheduled for decontamination and full scan. Curie said she'd be ready."
The nurse tapped a few buttons, and a nearby door slid open with a quiet hiss. "Room Three. She's prepping now."
They moved through the hall, boots thudding quietly on the polished floor. Inside Room Three, the atmosphere was different—more clinical, but still warm in that peculiar Minutemen way. There was advanced tech lining the walls: rad scrubbers, auto-scan beds, med-assist bots. At the center of it all stood Curie, her white lab coat buttoned neatly over a blue turtleneck, glasses perched low on her nose as she reviewed a screen.
When she saw them enter, her face lit up with a bright smile.
"Ah! You have returned! And in one piece, no less. Bon! Come, come, we will begin with the scans and then a cleansing flush, just to be safe."
Curie was always like this—brilliant, efficient, and never without that spark of enthusiasm that made her presence feel lighter, even in a medical ward.
Sico stepped forward first, peeling off the outer layer of his hazmat suit as a med-assist bot rolled up to take it. "How've things been on your end?"
Curie gestured for him to lie down on one of the scanning beds. "Busy, as usual! We've had six minor injuries from construction accidents, one case of heatstroke, and a patient who claimed their cat is telepathic. But I think they were just dehydrated."
Sico chuckled and lay back, the bed humming quietly as it scanned his vitals and ran a full-spectrum rad check. "Anything unusual showing up in town lately?"
Curie glanced at the monitor, adjusting a dial. "No more than usual. Your rad levels are elevated, as expected, but within manageable range. We will give you a mild detox flush. It's good you came. Hazmat suits are reliable, but not foolproof."
One by one, Robert and the other Commandos followed suit. Each of them was scanned, then moved to the adjacent chamber where a gentle mist sprayed over them—neutralizing agents mixed with targeted rad scrubbers. The mist clung to their skin for a moment, then evaporated in the warm air of the chamber.
Robert emerged from the misting unit with a small cough. "That's cold."
"Necessary," Curie said, already prepping a tray of anti-radiation boosters. "And you'll be glad for it in the long term. Exposure is cumulative, no?"
As the last of the team passed through, they gathered in the waiting area, sipping water laced with mild rad-away while Curie finished compiling their medical records.
Sico leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed. "You ever get tired, Curie?"
She looked up from her datapad and tilted her head. "Tired? Bien sûr. But it is a good tired. The kind that comes from doing something worthwhile. You know the feeling, no?"
He smiled. Yeah. He did.
The Commandos sat quietly for a while, letting the weariness settle into their bones. Missions like this—they took a toll. Even when everything went right. But there was a kind of peace in that exhaustion, especially when it ended in a place like this. Safe. Clean. Surrounded by people who gave a damn.
Curie returned with a tablet and handed it to Sico. "Your bloodwork confirms all levels are returning to baseline. I recommend rest for at least twelve hours. No patrols, no command meetings, oui?"
"I'll do my best," Sico said, rising to his feet.
Curie gave him a knowing look, arms crossed. "That is not the same as promising."
Robert stood too, stretching with a groan. "We'll make sure he rests. Even if we have to tie him to a chair."
Sico laughed and shot him a playful glare. "Try it and see what happens."
The moment lightened the air in the room, and even Curie smiled before returning to her console.
As the team exited the hospital, the sun had risen higher in the sky, casting long golden beams across Sanctuary's streets. Children were chasing a ball near the barracks. A group of soldiers marched past in tight formation. Somewhere in the distance, music was playing—an old pre-war tune about home.
Sico stood for a moment just outside the hospital, letting the warmth of the sunlight touch his face. His thoughts drifted to Virgil, already settling into the lab. To Nora, still inside the Institute. To Preston and Sarah, keeping the Scan Department growing strong. So much work lay ahead.
________________________________________________
• 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:-