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Alice gasped, Morris cheered loudly, Jonas's eyes widened, then filled with something fragile and powerful all at once. Sico watched the three of them stand together with sweaty, aching, exhausted, and proud.
The applause and murmurs of shock were still thick in the air when MacCready finally blew a sharp whistle, cutting through the noise like a blade.
"Alright, alright! Settle down!" he barked, though even he was grinning wider than usual. His squad gathered around him; some leaned on rifles, others crossed their arms, a few still whispering disbelief at Jonas's performance.
Jonas, Alice, and Morris stood together awkwardly at the center of the camp, all three still sweating, still flushed from the trial, still processing what they had just done. Alice was leaning forward with her hands on her knees, trying to calm her breath. Morris sat on a crate, wheezing dramatically while drinking from a canteen as if he'd crossed an entire desert. Jonas stood straight-backed, though his posture trembled lightly, betraying how hard his body was still working.
Robert stepped up beside MacCready, flipping open a small binder where he had been taking handwritten notes for each candidate. Even at a glance, the three recruits could see the pages were full.
MacCready cleared his throat.
"Jonas. Morris. Alice," he began, his voice firm but not cold. "You three completed the Commandos' entry trial. That alone puts you above ninety percent of settler volunteers." He walked slowly before them like an instructor in an old-world boot camp. "But every trial needs an evaluation. And trust me—what I'm about to say isn't meant to tear you down. It's to sharpen the edges you already showed today."
Morris lifted a shaky hand. "Sir, before we begin… can I request a chair? Or a bed? Or maybe a coffin?"
MacCready rolled his eyes. "No."
Morris groaned.
Jonas smothered a laugh behind his hand.
Alice, though still catching her breath, straightened reflexively, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders.
MacCready began with her.
He planted himself in front of her, clipboard tucked under one arm.
"Alice," he said. "Your triage work was excellent. Better than excellent. Flawless. Fast vitals assessment, clean tourniquet placement, proper pressure application, you treated that dummy like a real wounded soldier."
Alice blushed hard, fingers fidgeting by her sides. "Thank you, sir…"
"But," MacCready raised a finger, "you get tunnel vision. You hyper-focus on what's in front of you. That dummy? You treated it like it was the only thing happening on the battlefield. But this course wasn't just about medical skill. It was about survival under chaos."
Alice looked down, ashamed.
"No," MacCready said firmly, making her flinch. "Don't apologize. You have a medic's instincts. That's rare. What you need is field vision. Situational awareness. The ability to treat while moving, while listening, while anticipating. Right now, you're a great medic. But we're training combat medics. Different world entirely."
She swallowed.
"Understood, sir."
Robert stepped forward, voice softer.
"You overcame fear. That alone is worth more than technical perfection."
Alice blinked rapidly. "Really?"
"Yes," Robert said. "And if you want to be Commando material, you'll need to keep overcoming it. Again and again. Fear doesn't disappear. You just learn to run with it."
MacCready nodded. "We'll help you build speed. Reaction time. Combat awareness. You have the heart. Now we shape the skill."
Alice bit her lip, then nodded fiercely. "I won't let you down."
"You didn't today," MacCready said. "Not even close."
Next, MacCready turned to Morris, who was now sprawled dramatically on the crate like a dead settler after a radscorpion attack.
"Morris," he said.
Morris weakly lifted two fingers. "Present… in both body and spirit… barely…"
A few Commandos snorted.
MacCready crouched, elbows resting on his knees as he faced him.
"You are, without exaggeration, one of the most chaotic candidates I've ever seen."
Morris blinked. "Uhh… thank you?"
"That wasn't praise."
"Oh."
"But," MacCready continued, " chase isn't always bad. Sometimes, unpredictability can save your life. You adapt fast. You think fast. You react fast. Too fast, sometimes, which is why you triggered the secondary route."
"I didn't mean to!" Morris shouted defensively from the crate. "It was an accident!"
MacCready smirked. "Exactly. Your biggest weakness is also your biggest strength, you act before thinking."
Robert chimed in. "And in a battlefield, that gets people killed."
Morris deflated.
"But," Robert added, "you finished the course faster than Alice. And not because you rushed. Because you committed."
Morris blinked. "Committed?"
"Yes," Robert said. "When you messed up, you didn't freeze. You didn't panic. You just kept going."
Sico stepped forward slightly, arms crossed.
"That stubbornness," he said, "is valuable. But it needs discipline. You have power. You have instinct. But you don't yet have control. Once you learn that? You could be dangerous in all the right ways."
Morris stared up at him, wide-eyed, like a child being told he was secretly a superhero.
"So… I did okay?"
MacCready nodded. "More than okay. You surprised the hell out of us. And if you keep training? You'll surprise even yourself."
Morris grinned so wide it almost split his face.
Then MacCready turned to Jonas.
The crowd fell silent again, as if instinctively aware that this evaluation wouldn't be simple.
Jonas stood at full height, shoulders squared, but his eyes flicked nervously between MacCready and Sico.
MacCready let out a breath.
"Jonas," he said, "you didn't just pass. You set a record."
Jonas inhaled sharply, as though the reality had only now sunk in.
"But raw talent," MacCready continued, "isn't enough. So let's talk weaknesses."
Jonas tensed.
"You rely too heavily on instinct," MacCready said bluntly. "Your body knows what to do faster than your mind does. That can make you reckless in real firefights."
Jonas blinked. "Reckless?"
"Yes," Robert said. "You read the battlefield extremely well. But you also sprinted through the shifting-panel corridor like you trusted yourself more than the environment."
"I did," Jonas admitted.
"And that trust can be fatal if misjudged," Robert replied. "Confidence is good. Overconfidence is a killer."
Jonas swallowed hard.
MacCready scratched his jaw. "That said… you have something I've only seen in veteran units."
"What's that?" Jonas asked quietly.
"Presence," MacCready replied. "Calm. Focus. The ability to cut through the atmosphere and just perform. It's rare. And damn valuable."
Jonas looked down, cheeks flushing from a mixture of pride and disbelief.
Robert stepped closer.
"You're not just recruit material," he said. "You're leadership material."
Jonas's head snapped up.
"M-me? Leader?"
"Yes," Robert said.
But Sico stepped forward now, and the crowd shifted subtly. Even MacCready leaned back a bit. When Sico spoke, it wasn't with the tone of a president addressing citizens.
It was something deeper.
Something personal.
"Jonas," Sico said quietly, "you don't see your own strength. Not yet. But everyone else does."
His gaze softened. "You weren't born a soldier. You weren't trained for this life. Yet today, you stood in front of a course designed to break you—and you moved through it like someone who's been fighting their entire life."
Jonas looked overwhelmed, almost breathless.
"That is leadership," Sico said. "The ability to stand firm when others can't. The ability to rise when your past tells you to fall."
Jonas swallowed audibly.
"I… I never thought I'd be good at anything," he whispered.
Sico placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You are good at becoming better."
Jonas's eyes burned, but he blinked hard, refusing to let them fall.
MacCready stepped back, satisfied.
"Alright," he barked. "That's enough emotional crap. Time for the next step."
The recruits stiffened.
"What next?" Morris asked nervously.
MacCready pointed at the trio, then at the back of the camp.
"You three. With Sico. Now. He wants a private word."
Alice gulped.
Jonas's pulse quickened.
Morris scratched his head, confused. "Did we do something wrong?"
"No," Sico said calmly. "Follow me."
Sico led them behind the main training scaffolding, where the noise of drills and shouts softened into a muffled background hum. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the steel beams, cutting soft veins of gold across the dirt.
The three recruits stood in a line, unsure whether to be afraid or honored.
Sico turned toward them, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.
"Today," he began softly, "you surprised me. All of you."
Alice looked down shyly.
Morris stood straighter.
Jonas held his breath.
"You came into this yard with uncertain futures," Sico continued. "But you're leaving this trial as something else. As people who can stand on the front line of the Republic if they choose."
Alice's lips parted in shock.
Morris blinked rapidly.
Jonas stared as if those words were impossible.
Sico stepped closer.
"But passing the trial is not the end," he said. "It's the beginning. You showed potential. Each of you. Enough potential that I want you to think beyond simply joining the Commandos."
They exchanged startled glances.
"What do you mean?" Alice asked quietly.
"I mean," Sico said, "that each of you should aim higher."
Morris frowned. "Higher than… being a Commando?"
"Yes," Sico replied. "Much higher."
Jonas hesitated. "Like… what exactly?"
Sico met his eyes.
"Like becoming squad leaders."
All three of them froze.
Alice covered her mouth with her hand.
Morris whispered, "Squad… leader?"
Jonas felt his heart crash into his ribs.
Sico stepped forward until he stood only a meter from them.
"You have different strengths," he said, pointing to each one in turn. "Alice with your precision, compassion, discipline. You care deeply, and that creates loyalty. A squad would follow a medic they trust with their lives."
Alice's chin trembled. "I… I never imagined…"
"Morris," Sico continued, turning to him. "Not once today did you back down. Your courage borders on recklessness, but courage is a foundation. Controlled properly? You could inspire soldiers who feel they have nothing left."
Morris's eyes glossed with disbelief.
"And Jonas," Sico said at last, his voice gentler, "you carry quiet strength. That is the rarest kind. Not loud, not boastful, just steady. People look to someone like you when the world falls apart."
Jonas swallowed hard. "…Me? Lead? Someone like me?"
"Yes," Sico said. "Someone exactly like you."
They stood in silence, overwhelmed.
Then Sico continued, voice low but firm.
"I'm not assigning you those roles today. You must earn them. Through training. Through hardship. Through failure and persistence. But I want you to aim for it. I want you to grow into it."
He placed a hand over his chest.
"The Republic needs leaders, not just fighters."
Alice wiped her eye.
Morris nodded fiercely.
Jonas felt something inside him settle into place.
Sico stepped back.
"You already proved you can stand up," he said. "Now learn to make others stand with you."
The three recruits bowed their heads deeply but not because protocol demanded it, but because respect compelled it.
"Thank you," Jonas whispered.
"Thank you so much," Alice added.
Morris tried to speak but choked on emotion, so he simply thumped his chest once in salute.
Sico gave them a rare, warm smile.
"You start your official training tomorrow," he said. "Rest tonight. Celebrate, if you want. You earned it."
He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"And remember," he added softly, "this trial wasn't meant to show us who you are. It was meant to show you who you could become."
The three stood in stunned silence as Sico walked away, Robert falling in step beside him.
Dawn broke softly over the Commandos' training yard, not with the blazing heat the Commonwealth sometimes hurled down, but with a cool, subdued warmth that tasted almost like a beginning.
The kind of morning that carried promise.
And nerves.
Lots of nerves.
Alice had hardly slept. Her mind replayed the trial again and again with every stumble, every breathless moment, every second where she thought she'd fail but didn't. Her body felt like it had been beaten with steel rods, but beneath the soreness there was something else buzzing in her chest.
Pride.
Morris slept like the dead. Jonas had to shake him awake three times, and on the fourth try Morris tried to swat him away, mumbling, "Five more minutes, Ma… the super mutant can wait…"
Jonas had slept equally poorly, but not because of discomfort.
He'd lain awake staring at the ceiling of the barracks, hearing Sico's words echo through his mind, "Someone exactly like you."
He still didn't believe them. But he wanted to. Badly.
When they finally stumbled out into the morning yard, their breath steaming in the cool air, the Commandos were already assembled.
MacCready was pacing like an impatient shepherd, a whistle hanging from his lips. He pointed dramatically at the trio the moment they stepped outside.
"Finally!" he shouted. "I was starting to think one of you got eaten by a yao guai overnight!"
Morris raised his hand. "Not gonna lie, sir… if a yao guai attacked me right now, I'd just let it win."
"Too bad," MacCready replied. "Training's harder."
The Commandos chuckled.
Jonas straightened instinctively. Alice tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt. Morris cracked his neck loudly, attempting to look intimidating but only succeeding in looking sore.
Robert approached with a datapad and the calm seriousness of a man who had already been awake for hours.
"Today," he said, voice gentle but firm, "you start where every Commando starts that is the fundamentals."
Morris blinked. "Fundamentals? After yesterday? I thought we already proved ourselves…"
"Fundamentals," MacCready cut him off, "are how you stay alive. Yesterday you proved you can perform under pressure. Today you learn how not to put yourselves in that pressure in the first place."
He turned sharply and pointed toward the far end of the yard where rows of metal obstacles stood gleaming with morning dew.
"Warm-up run. Five laps. Move."
Morris groaned. Alice swallowed. Jonas nodded, as if accepting some grim but noble fate.
They took off.
MacCready watched them sprint or try to sprint, around the yard. Morris kept a decent pace for exactly forty seconds before slowing dramatically and loudly proclaiming he could feel his "ancestors judging him for life choices." Alice ran in short, even strides, conserving her breath with practiced discipline. Jonas ran with surprising ease, not fast, not slow, just steady with the kind of pace that said he would finish because stopping was never an option for him.
Robert watched quietly, hands behind his back.
"They're unpolished," he murmured.
MacCready nodded. "That's the good part. We get to shape them."
At the end of the fifth lap, the three recruits were sweating rivers.
MacCready blew the whistle. "Water break. Thirty seconds."
Morris collapsed dramatically to the ground. Alice leaned against a post, chest rising and falling like she was calming herself intentionally. Jonas drank slowly, eyes lifting toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to crest.
Something tugged at his memory as Sico's words, the look in his eyes, the quiet trust.
He wanted to earn it.
He wanted to be someone worth believing in.
MacCready called them back into formation.
"Next," he said, "combat basics. Stance, footwork, balance. You'd be amazed how many people die because they don't know how to stand properly."
Morris whispered, "You're joking."
"I wish I was," MacCready replied. "Spread out."
They did.
For the next hour, they practiced nothing but foot placement, weight shifting, center of gravity control. Morris tripped over his own boots at least six times; Alice learned quickly but kept over-stabilizing, making her movements rigid; Jonas adapted with uncanny speed but had to be reminded repeatedly not to rely purely on instinct.
Then came grappling drills.
Blocking drills.
Escape drills.
Silent communication drills.
Situational awareness tests.
Morris failed the silent communication drill spectacularly by attempting to improvise gang signs that confused everyone, including himself. Alice grew more confident with each test, and Jonas stunned several Commandos by disarming a training knife faster than MacCready expected.
By midday, their bodies screamed in protest, sweat soaked their shirts, and dust clung to every pore.
And yet…
They were smiling.
Not because training was easy, it wasn't. It was brutal, overwhelming, exhausting.
But because for the first time in their lives, they were surrounded by warriors who didn't see them as dead weight.
For the first time, someone expected them to rise.
And they did.
They were rising.
Far beyond the Commandos' training yard, at the heart of the Freemasons Republic, a different kind of energy was building.
Lightning-fast.
Electric.
Excited.
Inside the Freemasons Radio station with a retrofitted pre-war communications tower humming with high-tech upgrades as Piper Wright stood in front of her microphone, headphones slightly askew, leaning forward with the enormous grin of someone who had excellent news and was absolutely delighted to be the first to share it.
A small "ON AIR" sign glowed above her head.
She cleared her throat dramatically.
"Aaaaand good morning, Republic listeners!" Piper announced, her voice bursting through radios across settlements, command posts, guard towers, and even a few lonely scavenger hideouts. "This is Piper Wright coming at you live with some very exciting breaking news!"
She shuffled her papers, though she didn't need them; she'd memorized every word.
"As of this morning, the results from the Commandos' special recruit trial are in and folks, you're gonna want to sit down for this one!"
Her voice lowered dramatically.
"You remember the sparring competition we covered two days ago? The big one in the main plaza where three unexpected dark horses rose through the ranks and absolutely swept the tournament?"
A drumroll sound effect played, courtesy of her very amused producer.
"Well guess what?" Piper continued. "Those three champions with Alice, Morris, and Jonas have officially been accepted into the Commonwealth Commandos!"
Her voice rose triumphantly.
"Yes, you heard that right! They won their entry rights fair and square, and yesterday they completed the Commandos' grueling operational trial and passed!"
Across the Republic, cheers erupted.
In Sanctuary, settlers paused in their morning routines, grinning proudly.
In the marketplaces of Concord, shopkeepers turned up the volume.
In the militia outposts guarding the northern border, soldiers thumped their fists against their armor in approval.
Piper wasn't done.
"And here's the kicker," she said with rising excitement. "Word from inside the Commandos. Oh yes, straight from officers who were there, says that all three of them showed exceptional promise. I repeat: exceptional."
She leaned closer to the microphone.
"Sources tell me that Morris triggered the course's advanced route by accident but still powered through like a lunatic hero, Alice executed flawless medic triage under pressure, and Jonas was setting set a new record. Yes, a new record for civilian recruits."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"I don't know about you, folks, but I've got chills."
She shuffled her papers again, barely holding back a smile.
"The Freemasons Republic believes in opportunity. In rising through courage, not through birthright. And these three? They're proof of exactly that."
A softer note entered her voice.
"They earned this. Every bit of it."
Piper pressed a button, and triumphant acoustic guitar music swelled gently beneath her voice.
"So let's give a big congratulations to the Republic's newest Commando recruits," she declared proudly. "Alice, Morris, Jonas, the Commonwealth is rooting for you."
With that, she moved smoothly to the next segment, but across the Republic, the news spread like wildfire, lifting spirits and stirring excitement wherever it landed.
And at the Commandos' training yard, MacCready's head snapped up as the distant echo of Piper's broadcast drifted across the landscape.
"Oh no," he muttered. "Here it comes…"
They were midway through a grueling set of endurance drills when one of the Commandos, a tall man named Ritter are jogged over holding a portable radio.
"Sir," Ritter said. "You'll want to hear this."
MacCready frowned. "If it's Piper again, I swear—"
"It is," Ritter confirmed.
Morris perked up immediately. "Piper? What's Piper saying?!"
Alice looked nervous. Jonas froze mid-motion.
Ritter turned up the radio.
Piper's voice flooded the training yard:
"—and yes, folks, the three champions of the sparring competition have officially begun their training with the Commandos this morning!"
Every recruit, officer, and synth in the yard turned toward Jonas, Alice, and Morris.
Dozens of eyes.
Dozens of smirks.
Dozens of murmurs.
Morris went pale, then red, then pale again. "Oh no. Oh no no no. I did not ask to be famous!"
Alice squeaked, covering half her face with her hands. "People are listening, right now people are hearing this right now—"
Jonas stood still, stunned.
Piper continued through the radio:
"—and let me tell you, folks, these three aren't just joining; they're standing out. If you see them around the Republic, give them a cheer!"
MacCready slowly dragged his hand down his face.
"Oh, this is gonna make their egos unbearable…"
Sico, who had quietly approached during the commotion, folded his arms with faint amusement.
"I think it creates motivation," he said.
MacCready shot him a look. "Sir, with all due respect, Morris does not need encouragement. Morris needs supervision."
"I heard that!" Morris yelled.
Sico simply smiled.
But then he turned his eyes toward the trio.
"Alice. Morris. Jonas."
They all snapped into attention, their earlier embarrassment evaporating.
"You earned this moment," Sico said gently. "But don't let praise stop you. Use it."
The three nodded.
Alice, despite her flushed face, straightened with quiet determination.
Morris puffed out his chest, looking as though he might explode from pride.
And Jonas felt something shift inside him that something deep, something steady.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Purpose.
MacCready clapped loudly. "Alright! Enough radio fame for now! Back to training! Being an overnight sensation doesn't make you a Commando, discipline does!"
The Commandos shouted in agreement.
Alice took her stance.
Morris shook out his arms.
Jonas inhaled slowly, then exhaled.
They stepped back into formation together.
And training resumed.
If morning training was tough, afternoon training was… another world.
The sun had climbed high, bathing the training yard in blistering heat. Sweat clung to the three recruits like armor they didn't ask for. Muscles screamed. Feet ached. Their lungs felt raw.
MacCready and the squad didn't go easy on them, praise from the President didn't buy leniency.
If anything, it made the drills harsher.
"Again!" MacCready barked as Jonas completed a defensive roll. "Keep your center of gravity low!"
"Again!" he yelled at Alice as she practiced combat medic extractions using a weighted dummy. "Your grip is slipping, in a real fight that's death!"
"Again!" he shouted at Morris, who was mastering the art of not crashing headfirst into obstacles. "Stop thinking like a raider and start thinking like a soldier!"
But something extraordinary happened around the second hour.
The three of them began to find their rhythm.
Alice adapted with surprising finesse; her movements became tighter, cleaner, quicker. Her focus sharpened, and she started anticipating instructions before they were given.
Morris, sweating enough to fill a small lake, slowly began turning his chaotic bursts of energy into controlled momentum. His dodges became smoother. His reactions less panicked. His movements intentional.
And Jonas…
Jonas was evolving.
MacCready saw it first the shift in posture, the widening of peripheral awareness, the way Jonas's breathing synchronized naturally with his movement.
By the time the sun dipped low over the training yard, the world had settled into that warm evening hue the Commonwealth rarely offered an amber glow painting the rusted scaffolds, the cracked concrete, the steel targets, and the sweat-soaked bodies of every soldier finishing their last drills.
Jonas, Alice, and Morris felt like their bones had been replaced with scrap metal. Every limb ached. Every breath trembled. Their shirts clung to them like wet cloths, their muscles protesting even the smallest movements.
Even Morris, whose energy seemed infinite in the mornings, was hunched over with hands on his knees.
"I'm dying," he wheezed. "This is it. Tell my story. Make it dramatic."
"You're not dying," Jonas muttered, though he sounded half-dead himself.
Alice didn't even speak. She just leaned against a post, sweat dripping from her chin, hair plastered to her face.
MacCready watched them with his arms crossed, chewing on the end of a stim-gel straw. He didn't look sympathetic. He didn't even look mildly concerned. In fact… he looked amused.
"Good," he finally said. "You're tired. You're broken down. Your muscles are jelly. Perfect."
Morris lifted his head slowly. "…Perfect for what? A funeral?"
"For sparring," MacCready replied.
Alice nearly dropped to the floor. "S-sparring? With who?"
"With him," MacCready said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.
Jonas, Alice, and Morris turned.
And froze.
Sico was standing in the center of the training yard.
Gone was the presidential coat, the clean uniform, the tactical coat usually worn during inspections or operations. Instead, he was dressed in plain workout gear with a dark athletic pants, a sleeveless compression shirt that showed a surprisingly scarred and powerful build, and taped wrists like an old-world fighter preparing for a match.
His hair was tied back.
His stance was relaxed.
And his expression was calm.
Too calm.
"Absolutely not." Morris immediately spun around. "Nope. No way. I like living. I want to keep doing that. Fighting, the PRESIDENT? After doing drills all day? Three against one? That's not sparring, that's suicide."
Alice nodded vigorously. "We can't fight him! That would be, that would be like hitting our superior or something!"
Jonas didn't move, didn't speak. He just stared at Sico, feeling a strange pressure settle in his chest.
Because he could tell from the way Sico stood still, centered, like he was one breath away from exploding that this wouldn't be a light contest.
MacCready snorted. "If you think he's fragile, you're adorable. The President isn't asking you to fight him. I'm telling you you're going to."
"No!" Morris said again. "He's the leader of the Republic! What if we break his nose or something?!"
Sico raised a brow.
"Morris," he said calmly, "if one of you breaks my nose, I will personally promote you."
Morris blinked. "…Really?"
"No."
Robert, who arrived just then with a towel over his shoulder, sighed. "Children, relax. You're not going to break anything. You're the ones in danger here."
"That doesn't make me feel better!" Morris cried.
Robert shrugged. "It shouldn't."
Alice swallowed, her cheeks pale. "Sir, I don't want to fight you. It feels wrong."
Jonas, still quiet, finally spoke. "…Why us?"
Sico's attention turned fully to him.
"Because," he answered softly, "your training today wasn't meant to push your bodies. It was meant to exhaust your instincts to see how you fight when you have nothing left."
Because that, Jonas knew, was how people truly revealed who they were.
MacCready clapped his hands sharply.
"Alright! Positions! Now!"
The three recruits stood frozen, still unsure whether to obey.
MacCready leaned forward. "Listen to me. I've fought Sico before. More than once."
Morris blinked. "…And you survived?"
"That's not the point," MacCready said irritably. "The point is, he's the strongest fighter in the Republic. And I don't just mean strongest politician or strongest figurehead."
He jabbed a finger at Sico.
"That man beat me, Robert, AND Preston one after another in a single spar."
Alice's jaw dropped.
Jonas's stomach flipped.
Morris made a quiet, terrified squeak.
Robert coughed politely. "Technically it was two spars… but the point stands."
Morris looked betrayed. "WHY WOULD YOU TELL US THIS NOW?!"
"Because," MacCready said darkly, "you should know exactly how much trouble you're in."
Sico rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms slowly.
"MacCready," he said calmly, "stop scaring them."
"I'm not scaring them," MacCready said. "I'm preparing their eulogies."
Jonas inhaled slowly.
Alice stepped forward.
Morris whimpered but forced his legs to move.
And the three young recruits eventually lined up opposite Sico.
The President stood alone.
Unarmed.
Relaxed.
Almost peaceful.
"Rules are simple," Sico said. "First one to go down must crawl out of the ring."
Morris whispered, "Crawl? Why crawl?"
Sico's faint smile was almost kind.
"Because after I'm finished with you, walking might not be an option."
Morris gulped audibly.
MacCready lifted his whistle.
"You three ready?" he asked.
"No!" Morris cried.
"Yes," Jonas said, surprising even himself.
Alice nodded shakily. "Ready, sir."
MacCready smirked.
"Begin!"
The whistle shrieked and everything exploded at once.
Jonas moved first.
He rushed forward, trying to close the gap before Sico could counter. He didn't want to wait, didn't want to hesitate. He had learned in the morning drills that hesitation killed momentum—and against Sico, even a second lost meant a second dead.
Alice darted to the right, keeping distance, trying to flank from an angle she remembered from the extraction drills.
Morris screamed like he was charging into a burning building and sprinted in a wild arc around Jonas.
For exactly half a second, they almost looked coordinated.
Sico tilted his head, watching, eyes sharp and alert but body loose.
He didn't move.
Not until they were close.
Jonas swung first.
A clean punch.
Good form.
Fast, despite exhaustion.
Sico caught it with one hand.
Just one.
Jonas felt the impact of his own strike returning through his arm was not in pain, but in the shock of how effortlessly Sico stopped it.
Before he could react, Sico twisted his wrist, stepped sideways, and gently guided Jonas's momentum forward—
Jonas stumbled but regained balance, breath catching in surprise.
"Good," Sico said. "Again."
Jonas pivoted.
Alice rushed in, low and fast, aiming for Sico's legs with a distraction, not a full strike. She didn't want to hurt him; she wanted to support Jonas.
But she quickly learned something crucial.
Sico didn't need to dodge her.
He stepped forward, shifting his weight, and his knee lifted gently into Alice's shoulder that not hard, not cruel, but precisely enough to push her off balance.
She gasped as she hit the ground but rolled away, instinct kicking in.
Morris chose that exact moment to launch himself from behind, arms spread like a desperate raider tackling someone for the last can of cram.
Sico simply stepped aside.
Morris flew past him, tripped on absolutely nothing, and landed headfirst into the dirt.
"MY FACE!" he shouted, voice muffled. "MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!"
"You're alright," Robert called from the side. "Get up."
"I can't feel my legs!"
"Stand up, Morris."
Morris stood instantly, sniffling.
Jonas re-engaged.
This time, he didn't attack blindly. He circled, watching carefully, studying Sico's posture.
Alice got back to her feet and shifted positions with Jonas, rotating around Sico in opposite directions.
Morris staggered into formation with them again, still disoriented but determined.
For the first time, Sico nodded in approval.
"Better," he said. "Now come."
They charged again.
This time, something changed.
This time, they worked together.
Alice feinted low.
Jonas aimed high.
Morris swung from the side like a hammer.
Three angles.
Three threats.
Sico moved so fast they barely saw it.
His left hand deflected Jonas's strike.
His right palm tapped Alice's wrist, redirecting her momentum.
His foot planted firmly, body turning in a smooth, single motion.
And Morris suddenly found himself flying through the air.
He landed on a training mat with a loud thump.
"I regret everything!" he wailed.
Alice tried again, faster now, pushing past her exhaustion. She ducked beneath a counterstrike, aiming for Sico's ribs like MacCready taught her.
Sico stepped around her, caught her forearm, and used her momentum to spin her gently onto her back.
"Stay light," he advised, almost kindly.
Jonas lunged at that exact moment, catching Sico off guard for the first time.
His shoulder hit Sico's torso, driving him back half a step.
Just half.
But it was enough to make Sico's eyes widen faintly.
"Good," he breathed. "Again."
Jonas struck again with two jabs, quick footwork, a shift to the left.
For three seconds, Sico actually had to defend.
Jonas felt adrenaline burn through him, felt possibility ignite in his chest and then Sico swept his legs.
Jonas hit the ground hard, the breath leaving him in a stunned gasp.
But he rolled, he pushed back up, he didn't stay down.
And when he rose, Sico paused.
Just for a moment.
Because Jonas's eyes held something new.
Determination, yes.
Instinct, yes.
But something deeper.
Resolve.
Jonas charged again.
Alice joined him.
Morris stumbled in from sheer stubbornness.
The three of them went all out, using every ounce of training from the day. Exhaustion faded into instinct. Pain faded into adrenaline. Doubt faded into purpose.
They moved like a unit, not perfect, but determined. Flaws and strengths blending into a chaotic but genuine synergy.
Sico smiled.
A real one.
"Good," he said softly. "Now—"
He moved.
And the spar ended.
Not because they quit.
Not because they gave up.
But because Sico's level was simply beyond anything they had ever imagined.
In a blur:
—he struck Jonas's guard aside and tapped his chest, sending him staggering back
—he sidestepped Alice's approach and hooked her ankle, lowering her gently onto a mat
—he caught Morris trying to grab him from behind and flipped him so effortlessly Morris shouted, "I BELIEVE I CAN FLY—" before he landed with a groan
Dust settled.
Silence followed.
And all three recruits lay sprawled across the training yard floor, staring at the evening sky in disbelief.
Morris spoke first, voice trembling.
"…Did anybody get the number of the deathclaw that hit us?"
Alice lay flat, arms spread. "I… I can't move… my soul left my body… I think I met my ancestors…"
Jonas exhaled shakily, staring upward. Not defeated. Not humiliated.
Just stunned.
MacCready walked over, hands behind his back, smug.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "now you know what fighting the President is like."
Sico approached them, not winded, not sweating, not even slightly out of breath.
He knelt beside Jonas.
"You lasted longer than I expected," he said quietly.
Jonas blinked in disbelief. "We… lost."
"You learned," Sico corrected. "That's more important."
He turned to Alice.
"You used tactics well," he said warmly. "Next time, trust your instincts more. You hesitate out of fear of hurting someone. Remove that hesitation."
Alice nodded weakly.
Then he turned to Morris.
"Morris," he said. "You fight with heart."
Morris grinned painfully. "R-really?"
"Yes. But perhaps… do less screaming."
"That's fair."
Sico stood again, offering a hand.
Jonas took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
Alice followed.
Morris tried to stand and failed spectacularly, so Sico simply lifted him upright with one hand like he weighed nothing.
MacCready clapped loudly.
"Alright! Day one complete! You survived sparring with the President, you didn't puke on the mats, and none of you cried in front of Robert. That's a win in my book!"
"I cried a little," Morris whispered.
"I said in front of Robert," MacCready repeated.
Robert adjusted his glasses. "I saw it."
MacCready sighed. "Never mind."
Sico looked at the three recruits, their sweat-soaked clothes, their trembling limbs, their defeated but determined expressions.
And he smiled.
A small, proud, genuine smile.
"You did well," he said simply. "All three of you. Rest now. Tomorrow… your real training begins."
Jonas felt something inside him settle that something heavy but warm.
Alice wiped her forehead, breathing hard, but her eyes shone with quiet fire.
Morris leaned on Jonas for balance, groaning dramatically, but even he smiled with exhausted pride.
The sky above them faded into deep violet as the last rays of sun dipped below the horizon. And the three recruits who is broken, sore, bruised, humbled was walking back to the barracks together.
________________________________________________
• 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:-