If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Back in the chamber, Sico, Preston, and Sarah remained at the communications console, their focus already shifting from response to stability.
For a while, none of them moved from the communications console.
Not because there was more to say.
But because the quiet that had settled in after the report from Zimonja felt like something that needed to be respected.
Held.
Allowed to breathe.
The low hum of the open channel still carried the distant sounds of order being restored from boots moving in measured rhythm, medics giving calm instructions, the faint metallic clink of secured weapons being catalogued and stacked.
Life returning to structure.
Control returning to its place.
Sarah finally saved the last entry on her tablet, the soft confirmation tone barely audible in the chamber.
She lowered the device slightly, her shoulders easing just a fraction as she took in a breath that felt fuller than the ones she had been taking throughout the engagement.
"It's all logged," she said quietly. "Initial report will be ready for review in a few hours."
Preston nodded once.
"Good," he replied.
Sico looked at them both, his gaze steady but no longer carrying the immediate sharpness of command. The work now had shifted from reaction to responsibility, from conflict to maintenance.
"Then we move," he said.
The words were simple.
But they carried a sense of continuation.
Because leadership did not end when the shooting stopped.
It only changed shape.
He turned away from the communications console and walked slowly toward the main exit of the chamber, his footsteps echoing softly in the now mostly empty hall.
Preston and Sarah followed.
The chamber doors opened with a low mechanical hum as security personnel stepped aside to let them pass.
Outside, the corridor was still active.
Guards at their posts.
Support staff moving between stations.
Delegates in the distance being guided toward their temporary quarters for the night.
The atmosphere wasn't tense.
But it was alert.
Aware.
Everyone in the building knew something had happened.
And they were still processing it in their own ways.
Sico walked forward at an even pace, his presence alone enough to draw respectful nods from the personnel they passed.
No one stopped him.
No one interrupted.
There would be time for reports.
Time for questions.
Time for analysis.
But right now, movement mattered.
As they approached the main exit of the Congress building, the distant sound of voices began to filter in through the reinforced doors.
Not raised in panic.
But gathered.
Concerned.
Curious.
The doors opened.
And the night air met them.
Cool.
Fresh.
Carrying the low murmur of a crowd that had formed outside the perimeter.
Dozens of people from settlers, workers, off-duty personnel, family members of soldiers had gathered at a respectful distance from the Congress building, kept back by a loose but firm line of Freemason security.
They weren't shouting.
They weren't pushing forward.
They were watching.
Waiting.
Because word had spread quickly.
It always did.
There had been gunfire.
At Zimonja.
And when something like that happened, people needed to see with their own eyes that their leaders were still standing.
Still present.
Still in control.
As Sico stepped into the open, a subtle shift moved through the crowd.
Not a cheer.
Not a cry.
But a quiet ripple of attention.
Heads turned.
Voices hushed.
Preston's eyes scanned the perimeter automatically, assessing the crowd, the spacing, the posture of the guards, the position of the Sentinel Tanks that stood like silent giants at the edges of the square.
They had been brought in earlier as a precaution.
As a deterrent.
As a statement of readiness.
But now, with Zimonja secured, their presence carried a different weight.
One that was no longer necessary.
Sico took in the scene for a moment.
The people.
The soldiers.
The machines.
Then he turned his head slightly toward Preston.
"General," he said calmly.
Preston stepped closer.
"Yes, sir?"
Sico's voice was quiet, but firm.
"Disperse the gathering," he said. "Calmly. Respectfully."
Preston nodded.
"Understood."
"They've waited long enough," Sico continued. "Let them return home with the knowledge that the situation is under control."
"Yes, sir."
Sico's gaze shifted briefly to the Sentinel Tanks stationed along the perimeter.
"Have the Sentinel units stand down," he added. "Return them to their assigned posts. We don't need a show of force anymore."
Preston followed his gaze, then nodded again.
"I'll relay it now."
"And the soldiers stationed here?" Sico asked.
"Rotate them back to standard patrol assignments," Preston answered immediately.
"Good."
Sico's attention moved back to the building behind them for a moment, where within its walls dozens of Congressmen and Congresswomen were now settling into their temporary quarters for the night.
"Increase security around the Congressman or woman ' homestays," he said.
There was no hesitation in his tone.
No uncertainty.
Just clear instruction.
"Double the watch rotations," he continued. "No delegate is to be left without escort until they return to their settlements tomorrow."
Preston's expression sharpened with professional focus.
"It will be done."
Sico gave a small, acknowledging nod.
"Coordinate with Sarah on the roster," he added. "We need clear documentation of every movement."
Sarah, standing just behind them, lifted her tablet slightly.
"I'm already pulling the assignment grid," she said.
Sico allowed himself the smallest hint of a relieved breath.
"Good."
He looked at both of them from Preston to Sarah as his two closest operational anchors in this moment.
"You have it from here," he said.
Preston met his gaze.
"Yes, sir."
Sarah nodded as well.
"We'll handle it."
For a brief second, the three of them stood there together in the open air outside the Congress building.
Not speaking.
Not needing to.
Because everything that needed to be said between them had already been said.
They understood the situation.
They understood their roles.
And they trusted one another to carry them out.
Sico gave one final nod.
Then he turned.
Leaving them there.
He began walking across the square toward the main Freemasons Headquarters building.
The night had deepened while they had been inside the chamber.
The sky above was dark, scattered with faint stars that managed to push through the dim glow of the settlement's lights.
The path ahead of him was lit by evenly spaced lamps, their warm light casting long, steady shadows across the ground.
Behind him, he could hear Preston's voice already issuing calm, clear orders to the perimeter units.
"Alright, listen up," Preston called out, his tone firm but not harsh. "Crowd dispersal in phases. Keep it calm. No rush, no force."
A few seconds later, another order followed.
"Sentinel units, stand down and return to assigned posts. You're no longer required at the perimeter."
The deep, mechanical hum of the Sentinel Tanks began to shift as their engines powered down from combat readiness into movement mode.
One by one, the massive machines turned, their heavy steps controlled and deliberate as they began to withdraw from the square.
Sarah's voice joined Preston's a moment later, softer but precise.
"I need confirmation on all escort assignments," she was saying into her comm line. "Every delegate accounted for, every homestay secured."
The system was moving.
Adjusting.
Stabilizing.
Just as it was meant to.
Sico didn't look back.
Not because he didn't care.
But because he trusted.
Trusted that the people he had placed in those positions would do exactly what needed to be done.
He continued walking toward the headquarters building, his steps unhurried, his posture straight.
People along the edge of the square watched him as he passed.
Some gave small nods of respect.
Some simply watched in silence.
A few whispered quietly to one another.
But no one approached him.
There was an understanding in the air that tonight, the President had already given what he needed to give.
As he reached the entrance to the Freemasons Headquarters, the guards at the door straightened and opened the reinforced doors for him immediately.
"President," one of them said in quiet acknowledgment.
Sico inclined his head slightly as he passed.
Inside, the headquarters felt calmer than the square outside.
Quieter.
Controlled.
The long corridor ahead of him stretched out in clean lines, illuminated by soft overhead lighting.
He walked through it at a steady pace, his footsteps echoing faintly against the polished floor.
This was a different kind of battlefield.
Paperwork.
Reports.
Decisions that would shape what happened next.
And those decisions mattered just as much as the ones made in the heat of combat.
He reached his office door and paused for a brief moment before opening it.
Not out of hesitation.
But out of awareness.
Because once he stepped inside, the next phase of responsibility would begin.
He pushed the door open and entered.
The room was as he had left it earlier that day.
Desk organized.
Documents stacked neatly in ordered piles.
A map of the Republic displayed along one wall, small markers indicating outposts, supply lines, population centers.
One of those markers was Zimonja.
Now secured.
He walked to his desk and rested his hands on the surface for a moment, letting the quiet of the room settle around him.
Then he moved.
Sitting down in his chair.
Pulling the first set of documents toward him.
Incident response authorization forms.
Casualty and detainee logs.
Preliminary reports that would need his signature to move forward into the next stages of processing.
He picked up a pen.
And began to work.
Outside, the Republic continued to settle into the night.
The crowd in the square gradually dispersed under Preston's calm direction.
The Sentinel Tanks returned to their posts.
Security around the delegates' homestays tightened.
Medical teams at Zimonja continued treating the injured.
And in the Freemasons Headquarters, in a quiet office lit by a single desk lamp, Sico worked through the paperwork that would ensure that everything that had happened tonight would be properly accounted for.
Then morning came slowly to the Republic.
Not with the sudden burst of noise and urgency that had filled the night before, but with a softer return to rhythm.
The sky over Sanctuary was pale at first, a faint gray-blue that gradually warmed as the sun rose over the distant treeline. The air still carried a chill from the night, the kind that clung to the ground and to the edges of metal gates and wooden fences, before giving way to the steady warmth of day.
At the main gate of Sanctuary, preparations had already begun.
Convoys were being organized in neat lines beyond the reinforced entrance with vehicles idling quietly, drivers running through final checks, escort units standing by with practiced discipline. Freemason soldiers moved through the area with calm purpose, checking manifests, confirming assignments, ensuring that each Congressman and Congresswoman would be returned safely to their own settlements.
It wasn't rushed.
It wasn't chaotic.
It was structured.
Deliberate.
Because last night had reminded everyone just how important that structure was.
And at the center of it all, standing just inside the open gate, were Sico, Preston, and Sarah.
Sico stood with his hands loosely at his sides, his posture relaxed but attentive. The intensity of the previous night had settled into something quieter now with a steady presence, grounded and composed.
Preston stood to his right, one hand resting lightly against his belt, his eyes scanning the movement of soldiers and vehicles with the instinct of a man who always kept one part of his attention on security.
Sarah stood to Sico's left, her tablet already active in her hands, the roster of delegates displayed as she checked off each departure in real time.
The first group of delegates approached.
They came in small clusters with two, and sometimes three at a time each accompanied by their assigned escorts. Some carried satchels filled with documents. Some walked with their hands free, their shoulders lighter than they had been the day before.
They looked different now.
Not untouched by what had happened.
But steadier.
More certain.
Because they had seen their Republic tested and they had seen it hold.
The first Congressman stopped in front of Sico, offering a respectful nod.
"Mr. President," he said.
Sico returned the nod, meeting his gaze.
"Safe travels," Sico replied. "You'll have a full security escort until you reach your settlement."
The man gave a small, appreciative smile.
"We'll carry what we saw back with us," he said quietly. "People will want to know."
Sico inclined his head once.
"Then tell them the truth," he said. "That we stand together. And that we will continue to do so."
The Congressman nodded again, then stepped past them toward the waiting convoy.
One by one, the delegates came forward.
A Congresswoman from a farming settlement thanked Sico for acting quickly.
Another from a trade hub spoke briefly with Sarah about follow-up reports she would need.
One older delegate clasped Preston's forearm firmly, gratitude clear in his eyes even without words.
Each farewell was brief.
But meaningful.
Because each one carried the same understanding as they were not leaving a distant government behind them.
They were leaving a system they were part of.
One they helped shape.
One they now trusted more deeply than they had before.
As the convoys began to depart, engines rumbling softly as they rolled out of Sanctuary's gate one after another, the space slowly grew quieter.
Less crowded.
Less full.
But not empty.
Because what remained was something more enduring than the physical presence of people.
It was continuity.
The Republic continuing to function.
Settlement by settlement.
Road by road.
Preston checked the last convoy's escort detail, giving a final nod to the unit commander.
"Keep your comms open," he instructed. "Check in at each waypoint."
"Yes, General," the commander replied.
The convoy rolled forward and out through the gate, heading toward the main road that would carry them back across the Commonwealth.
Sarah tapped the final name on her tablet.
"All delegates accounted for," she said. "All convoys departed on schedule."
Sico looked out through the gate for a moment longer, watching the last vehicle disappear down the road until only the dust of its passage remained in the morning light.
Then he exhaled softly.
"It's done," Preston said beside him.
"For now," Sico replied.
Because it was never truly finished.
There would be reports to review.
Investigations to conduct.
Reforms to implement.
But the immediate moment with the one that had begun in tension and ended in controlled stability had passed.
Sico turned to Preston and Sarah.
"Continue monitoring convoy progress," he said. "And keep me informed if anything changes."
"We will," Sarah replied.
Preston gave a short nod.
"I'll maintain patrol rotations around Sanctuary and the approach roads," he added. "No chances."
Sico gave them both a look of quiet appreciation.
"Good."
He hesitated for just a fraction of a second.
Then his tone softened, just slightly.
"I'm going to check on Nora," he said.
Sarah's expression warmed faintly.
"She should be back from the Institute soon," she said.
"I hope so," Sico replied.
There was something unspoken in his voice there.
Something more personal.
Because beyond the Congress, beyond the Republic, beyond the responsibilities that defined him in the eyes of others as there were still the people who mattered to him in a more human way.
Preston gave him a small nod.
"Go," he said. "We've got things covered here."
Sico inclined his head once in thanks.
Then he turned away from the gate and began walking into Sanctuary.
The settlement was alive in the gentle way it always was in the morning.
Settlers moving between houses.
Smoke beginning to rise from cookfires.
The distant sound of hammering from someone repairing a roof or reinforcing a wall.
Children's voices somewhere farther down the path.
Life.
Normal.
Continuing.
It was a different kind of reassurance than the structured order of the Congress or the disciplined control of the military.
It was the reason those systems existed in the first place.
Sico followed the familiar path toward Nora's house.
He had walked it many times before.
Each step felt known.
Grounded.
As he approached, he could already hear a faint, bright sound drifting from inside.
Laughter.
Light.
Unburdened.
He reached the door and pushed it open gently.
Inside, the room was warm with morning light spilling through the windows.
And there, in the middle of the floor, was little Shaun.
The boy sat cross-legged on a woven rug, a small toy in his hands, his face lit with quiet delight as he moved it back and forth in some imaginative game only he fully understood.
Beside him, slightly to one side, stood Codsworth.
The Mr. Handy robot hovered attentively, his polished metal frame catching the light as he observed the child with a kind of gentle, programmed care that somehow felt almost human.
Sico paused just inside the doorway.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
He simply watched.
Because the contrast between what he had witnessed the night before and this quiet, innocent moment in a small home in Sanctuary that felt profound.
Important.
A reminder of what all of it was for.
Shaun looked up first.
His face brightened instantly when he saw Sico.
"Uncle Sico!" he called happily, his voice clear and excited.
He scrambled up from the floor and ran toward him with small, quick steps.
Sico's expression softened immediately.
He crouched slightly as Shaun reached him, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Hey there," Sico said warmly. "Looks like you're having fun."
Shaun nodded enthusiastically, holding up the toy.
"I was playing with Codsworth!" he said proudly.
Codsworth gave a polite, mechanical bow from where he hovered.
"Good morning, sir," the robot said in his refined tone. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
Sico gave a small smile.
"Good morning, Codsworth."
He glanced around the room once more, then looked back at the robot.
"Has Nora returned from the Institute yet?" he asked.
Codsworth's optic sensor dimmed slightly in a polite, apologetic manner.
"I'm afraid not, sir," he replied. "The missus is expected to return this evening."
Sico nodded once.
"Alright," he said quietly.
There was a brief pause as he absorbed that.
Then he looked down at Shaun again.
"Well," he said, a gentle warmth returning to his voice, "I guess that means I get to spend a little time here until she comes back."
Shaun grinned at that.
"Okay!" he said, clearly pleased by the idea.
Sico let out a soft breath.
The warmth of that moment lingered.
It stayed in the air like something gentle and unhurried, wrapping itself around the room in a way that made everything feel quieter, safer, more human.
Sico remained crouched for a second longer after Shaun's excited greeting, his hand still resting lightly on the boy's shoulder as if grounding himself in the simple reality of it all from this house, this child, this fragile peace.
For a man who had just overseen a crisis that could have fractured an entire Republic, the contrast was almost overwhelming in its simplicity.
And yet, it felt right.
It felt necessary.
Because this small home in Sanctuary, this laughter, this warmth was the reason he had stood at the gate that morning and made sure every convoy left safely.
It was the reason he had built the Republic the way he had.
So that moments like this could exist without fear.
Without interruption.
Without loss.
Shaun tugged gently on his sleeve.
"Uncle Sico," the boy said, his eyes bright with that endless curiosity only children carried so effortlessly, "do you want to play with me?"
Sico's expression softened even further.
"Of course I do," he replied.
He rose slowly, letting Shaun lead him back toward the rug in the center of the room. The toy in Shaun's hand with a small, worn figure that had probably been scavenged from somewhere in the Commonwealth, became the centerpiece of their little world.
"Okay," Shaun said, kneeling down again and placing the toy carefully between them, "this one is the hero. And he has to protect the town."
Sico settled down across from him, folding his legs comfortably as he listened with full attention because when Shaun spoke, he listened as if it were the most important briefing he would receive all day.
"And what's happening in the town?" Sico asked.
Shaun's face grew serious in the way only a child could manage that earnest, imaginative, fully invested mind.
"There are bad people coming," Shaun said quietly. "But the hero isn't scared. Because he has friends."
Sico felt something tighten gently in his chest at that.
He nodded once.
"Then we should make sure the hero's friends help him," Sico said.
Shaun's smile returned instantly.
And just like that, the world narrowed to a simple story on a woven rug.
They moved the figures together, creating a quiet narrative of danger and bravery and protection. Codsworth hovered nearby, occasionally offering a polite observation or encouragement in his refined tone, though he kept a respectful distance with understanding, in his own mechanical way, that this was a moment meant for them.
Outside, the day moved on.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the settlement, bringing with it the hum of daily life from voices, tools, footsteps, the distant murmur of a community rebuilding itself piece by piece.
Time passed gently.
Without urgency.
Without interruption.
At some point, Sico found himself leaning back slightly, watching Shaun become more animated as the story grew more complex that adding imaginary characters, shifting the stakes, declaring victories with small bursts of triumphant laughter.
Codsworth eventually excused himself to begin preparations in the kitchen.
"If you will pardon me, sir," he said politely, "I shall begin preparing dinner for when the missus returns. A warm meal will be most appropriate after her travels."
Sico nodded appreciatively.
"Thank you, Codsworth."
The robot gave a small bow and drifted into the adjoining space, where the soft sounds of utensils and careful preparation soon began to fill the background.
Shaun barely noticed, so absorbed in his story that the world outside it seemed to fade.
Sico, however, noticed everything.
The small details.
The way the sunlight shifted across the floorboards as the hours passed.
The way the air inside the house grew warmer in the afternoon.
The way Shaun's energy ebbed and flowed with bursts of excitement followed by quieter moments where he leaned against Sico's side, still holding his toy but resting for a minute before continuing.
At one point, Shaun looked up at him and asked a question that caught Sico slightly off guard.
"Uncle Sico," he said softly, "are you a hero too?"
Sico blinked once, surprised by the directness of it.
He considered the question carefully.
Then he smiled gently.
"I try to be," he said.
Shaun seemed to accept that answer easily.
"Good," he said simply, and went back to his game.
The simplicity of it stayed with Sico.
Because in Shaun's world, being a hero wasn't about titles or authority or strategy.
It was about protecting people.
Being there.
Standing with others.
And maybe, Sico thought quietly, that was the truest definition of all.
The afternoon slowly gave way to early evening.
The light outside the windows shifted again which golden now, softer, stretching long shadows across the ground outside and filtering warmly into the house.
The sounds of Sanctuary changed too.
Work began to wind down.
Voices grew calmer.
The rhythm of the settlement shifted toward rest.
Inside, the smell of food began to drift gently from the kitchen with something warm and comforting, carefully prepared by Codsworth with his usual meticulous care.
Shaun noticed it first.
"That smells good," he said, sniffing the air with exaggerated seriousness.
Sico chuckled quietly.
"I think Codsworth is making sure we don't go hungry."
Shaun nodded approvingly, as if that were exactly what he expected.
They had just begun to tidy up the toys on the rug at least, Sico had begun to tidy them while Shaun half-helped in the way children often did when it happened.
A soft hum filled the air.
Low at first.
Then growing.
The familiar, unmistakable sound of Institute teleportation technology activating.
A faint blue glow began to form in the center of the living room, swirling lightly as the air seemed to shimmer and bend.
Sico's posture shifted immediately that instinctively alert, though not alarmed.
Because he knew that sound.
He knew that light.
And a moment later, the shape within it resolved.
Nora appeared.
The glow faded as quickly as it had come, leaving her standing there in the center of the room that still, steady, a faint trace of travel dust on her boots, the Institute device at her wrist dimming as the teleport completed.
For just a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then Shaun moved.
"Mom!"
The word burst out of him with pure, unfiltered joy as he ran toward her with small, quick steps, arms already outstretched.
Nora barely had time to react before he reached her, wrapping himself around her waist in a tight hug.
Her entire expression changed in that instant.
All the focus, the weight, the responsibility she carried from the Institute melted away, replaced by something softer with something deeply human.
She knelt down immediately, wrapping her arms around him just as tightly.
"Hey, my baby," she said softly, her voice full of warmth and relief as she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too!" Shaun said into her shoulder.
They stayed like that for a few seconds.
Long enough for the moment to settle.
Long enough for the distance between them to truly close.
Sico stood a few steps away, watching them quietly.
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't speak.
He simply observed, his expression soft and calm, understanding that this moment belonged to them first.
Eventually, Shaun loosened his grip, stepping back just enough to look up at her with a wide smile.
Nora brushed a hand gently through his hair.
"Have you been good for Codsworth?" she asked.
Shaun nodded eagerly.
"And Uncle Sico!" he added proudly.
That drew Nora's attention.
She looked up.
And her eyes met Sico's.
For a brief second, the world seemed to narrow again which just the two of them standing there, the space between them filled with everything they didn't need to say out loud.
Then she stood.
And without hesitation, she walked straight to him.
There was no distance in her movement.
No formality.
No hesitation.
When she reached him, she placed a hand lightly against his cheek and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips.
"I missed you," she said softly against him.
Sico's hand came up instinctively to rest at her side, grounding, steady.
"I missed you too," he replied, his voice just as quiet.
There was a familiarity in the exchange.
A comfort.
A sense of coming home that had nothing to do with places and everything to do with people.
After a moment, they pulled back slightly but not far.
Not fully.
Because neither of them felt the need to create distance where none belonged.
Shaun, meanwhile, was watching them with an expression of innocent satisfaction, as if everything in his world had just clicked back into place exactly as it should be.
"Dinner will be ready momentarily, sir, mum," Codsworth's voice called politely from the kitchen, his timing as impeccable as ever.
Nora let out a small, amused breath.
"Perfect timing, Codsworth," she replied.
She glanced back at Sico.
"Stay," she said gently. "Eat with us."
There was no question in it.
Only invitation.
Sico nodded.
"I'd like that."
And so the evening settled around them.
They spent a little while longer together in the living room as Shaun eager to show Nora the game he and Sico had been playing, explaining the story with animated gestures and excited interruptions.
Nora listened with full attention, kneeling beside him, occasionally glancing up at Sico with a soft smile that said more than words could.
It wasn't a grand moment.
It wasn't dramatic.
But it was deeply, quietly meaningful.
Because it was theirs.
Eventually, Codsworth announced that dinner was ready.
They moved to the small dining table together with Shaun taking his usual seat, Nora sitting beside him, Sico across from them.
The meal was simple.
But warm.
Carefully prepared.
Exactly what was needed after a long day.
They ate together in an easy, comfortable rhythm as conversation flowing naturally between them.
Shaun talked about his day about the game, about what he had imagined, about how Uncle Sico had helped the hero protect the town.
Nora listened, occasionally laughing softly, occasionally reaching out to brush his hair back or adjust his sleeve.
Sico added small comments here and there, encouraging Shaun's story, asking gentle questions, letting him feel heard.
At one point, Nora looked up at Sico across the table, her expression soft.
"How was it this morning?" she asked quietly.
Sico met her gaze.
"Orderly," he said. "Peaceful, as much as it could be. The delegates are on their way home. The Republic held."
Nora nodded slowly.
"I knew it would," she said.
There was confidence in her voice.
Not blind faith.
But trust in him, in the system they had built together, in the people who stood with them.
They didn't need to say more than that.
Because they both understood what it meant.
Dinner stretched on a little longer than necessary which not because there was more food to eat, but because none of them felt the need to rush away from it.
The house was warm.
The light outside had dimmed into evening, the sky now painted in soft shades of orange and purple beyond the windows.
And inside, there was laughter.
Quiet conversation.
The gentle clink of utensils against plates.
The hum of Codsworth tidying in the background once the meal was finished.
When they were done, Shaun leaned back in his chair slightly, his energy finally beginning to dip after a full day of excitement.
Nora noticed immediately.
"Someone's getting sleepy," she said with a soft smile.
"I'm not," Shaun protested weakly, though the small yawn that followed betrayed him completely.
Sico chuckled quietly.
"Heroes need rest too," he said gently.
Shaun considered that.
Then nodded.
"Okay," he said.
Nora helped him down from his chair, guiding him toward his room with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'll tuck him in," she said softly to Sico.
He nodded.
"I'll be here."
And so the evening drew toward its quiet close. Another day in the Republic that mot defined by crisis this time, but something far more important which is peace and family.
______________________________________________
• 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:-