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The wasteland swallowed the sound of their engines quickly, leaving only the steady hum and the occasional groan of suspension as the convoy pressed deeper into no-man's land. Every mile forward was a mile further from Sanctuary, a mile closer to whatever waited for them in the dark.
The wasteland had a way of swallowing time. The road stretched on and on, broken only by the carcasses of old-world cars, their frames rusting into jagged silhouettes, or the skeletal outlines of trees long stripped bare. The steady hum of the convoy's engines became almost hypnotic, a rhythm that blurred one mile into the next.
It was Robert who first broke the silence in the lead Humvee. His finger traced across the map again, the lantern casting long shadows over the paper. "Up ahead," he said quietly, his voice careful but carrying an edge of anticipation. "Scouts marked this as an old residential block. Apartment towers. Half-collapsed, but still standing. We've had reports of movement there before."
Sico's grip on the wheel tightened, his eyes narrowing as the horizon began to shift. Shapes emerged — not the sprawling skeletons of factories or the jagged lines of collapsed bridges, but something more intimate. Buildings. Homes. Windows shattered, facades torn open like broken jaws.
And then they saw it.
One building stood taller than the rest — or rather, what was left of it. A cracked and leaning apartment complex, its upper floors torn away as though some giant hand had clawed through them. Rusted balconies sagged like broken ribs, and the walls were pocked with holes. The kind of place where shadows moved when they shouldn't.
Even before the convoy slowed, they knew they weren't alone.
Figures shifted on one of the open balconies. Large figures. Too large. The unmistakable, hulking silhouette of a super mutant. Its skin glistened faintly under the headlights, rough and mottled, its head turning slowly toward the sound of engines. Another appeared behind it, then another, peering out with the same dull, hungry gaze.
"Contact," Robert muttered, though the word felt unnecessary. Everyone could see it now. The convoy slowed to a crawl, engines rumbling low, lights cutting sharp beams across the ruined street.
Sico's hand slid off the wheel and onto the weapon resting between the seats. Not his rifle. Not the kind of gun he'd trusted a hundred times before. This one was different. He lifted it carefully, weighing it in his hands.
The dart gun.
A crude-looking thing, cobbled together from rifle stock, scavenged tubing, and a modified pneumatic chamber. It looked fragile, almost laughable compared to the raw brutality of the mutants ahead. But the dart he thumbed into the chamber was no joke. The syringe gleamed faintly, filled with the milky concoction Virgil and Curie had brewed — a sedative potent enough to drop a deathclaw if their math was right.
Robert's eyes flicked to it, then to Sico. His jaw was tight, but his tone even. "First time in the field. You sure you want to test it like this?"
Sico chambered the dart with a low hiss of air pressure. "Better to test it than let those things run loose. Virgil swears by the dosage. Curie double-checked it. That's good enough."
From the rear of the convoy, MacCready's voice crackled over the radio, tinny but sharp. "Well, boss? We gonna sit here all night giving 'em a show, or do we got a plan? 'Cause I'm telling you, they already know we're here. And they don't look like the friendly type."
The mutant on the balcony roared then, a guttural bellow that rattled broken glass from the window frames. Another answered from somewhere deeper in the building, the sound rolling through the night like thunder.
The convoy went silent. Engines idled low, soldiers shifting in their seats, eyes wide but steady. This was the moment — the line between planning and action.
Sico pressed the radio to his mouth. "MacCready. Hold your men. No fire until I say."
A crackle, then a muttered curse. "Copy that. But if one of those bastards comes running, I'm not playing nice."
Robert leaned forward, his finger pressing to the map again. "We've got at least three confirmed in sight, possibly more inside. If we want to capture them alive, we need containment fast. That means luring them out, disabling them, and getting those cages up here before they recover."
Sico glanced back toward the flatbeds. The cages loomed like iron promises, their steel bars gleaming faintly under the convoy's lights. They looked strong enough now, but he knew better than to trust appearances. A super mutant could tear a man apart with its bare hands. The only question was whether those cages would hold once something that strong was inside them.
He turned back to Robert. "Options."
Robert didn't hesitate. "Option one: we bait them into the open. Use noise, light, whatever draws them out. Darts from range, then chains once they're down. Option two: we breach the building, isolate targets in smaller groups. Higher risk of ambush. Higher casualties." His eyes met Sico's. "Option three: we don't do this here. We fall back, find a more controlled environment."
Before Sico could answer, MacCready's voice cut in again. "Yeah, that third one ain't happening. You saw 'em same as I did. Three, maybe four, right there in the open? That's a gift, Commander. You pass this up, you'll spend the next week chasing shadows."
Robert frowned. "And rushing in without a plan is how we lose men."
"Men are already nervous," MacCready shot back. "You drag this out, you'll lose them anyway. Morale doesn't last forever, pal."
The radio went quiet again, the argument hanging heavy in the cab. Sico finally exhaled, the sound sharp inside his helmet. His eyes stayed on the building, the balcony where the mutants shifted and growled like beasts in a cage that wasn't theirs.
"We take them here," Sico said at last. His tone cut through doubt like a blade. "But we do it right. Minimum casualties. Robert, you're with me. We'll hit the first one from range with the dart. If it drops, MacCready, you and your men move in with chains and secure it for transport. Flatbeds follow, cage gets loaded immediately."
"And the others?" Robert asked.
"We stagger it. One at a time. Don't let them swarm us. If they rush, suppress with rifle fire, but do not kill unless absolutely necessary. Three live captures. That's the mission."
There was silence over the radio for a moment. Then MacCready's voice came back, low but steady. "Fine. One at a time. But you better pray those darts work, boss. 'Cause if they don't, we're all gonna find out just how fast one of those freaks can rip a Humvee in half."
Sico's grip tightened on the dart gun. He knew MacCready wasn't wrong.
The first step had been made. The plan was set. Now came the harder part: making it work.
He leaned closer to Robert, his voice low enough that only the man beside him could hear. "We take the first shot. Make sure the others see it drop. That's how we prove this can work."
Robert nodded once, his expression grim but resolved.
Sico pulled the bolt, the pneumatic chamber hissing softly as it primed. He steadied the gun, its weight unfamiliar but certain in his hands. Out there, on the balcony, the first super mutant stepped forward, gripping the rusted railing with hands the size of sledgehammers. Its eyes gleamed yellow in the headlights, its lips curling back in something that was almost a grin.
The moment hung suspended, every breath in the convoy caught in the same silence. The dart gun gave off a sharp hiss as Sico exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The weapon bucked with a dull thump, nothing like the crack of a rifle—quieter, almost anticlimactic—but the dart cut through the air in a straight, whispering line.
It struck the super mutant square in the chest.
For a second, nothing happened. The hulking brute glanced down, almost puzzled by the tiny thing jutting from its flesh. It let out a growl, thick and wet, like a drum beaten in a cave. Its hand twitched toward the dart as if to pluck it free—
Then the sedative hit.
The mutant staggered, a sudden, staggering sway of its massive body. Its roar turned into a confused grunt, then into a strange, choking sound. Its knees buckled. The rusted balcony railing shrieked under its weight as it sagged forward, then backward, before finally collapsing like a felled tree.
The sound shook the whole block. Concrete dust rained from the ceiling above as the mutant hit the balcony floor. A second later, it was still—its chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths. Out cold.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then, chaos.
The other mutants inside the building roared, a chorus of guttural voices echoing through the half-ruined halls. The ground seemed to vibrate with the weight of them. One bellowed a word that rattled the air:
"HUUMAAANS!"
The sound carried across the street, deeper than any war horn, sharper than any alarm bell.
Sico didn't waste a second. He snapped the bolt on the dart gun, chambering another sedative dart with a hiss of compressed air. His voice cut across the radio, sharp and precise.
"MacCready—go! Chains on the first target, now!"
"Copy, copy—moving!"
The rear Humvee roared forward, its headlights sweeping over the dust and rubble. MacCready leaned half-out the window, barking orders to his squad as the vehicle screeched to a halt beside the flatbed. Commandos poured out, chains clattering, their boots striking the pavement in frantic rhythm. Two men rushed up the stairs toward the balcony, while another pair dragged a ladder into place to climb up the side.
Robert had already raised his rifle, covering them with steady aim as he glanced toward Sico. "Second dart ready?"
"Loaded."
Another roar thundered from inside the building. A second mutant appeared in the jagged frame of a collapsed doorway, its enormous head jerking toward the convoy below. Its yellow eyes burned in the headlights' glare. It raised a rebar club in one hand, the thing thicker than a man's arm, and bellowed again.
"FIND THEM! HUUMAAANS!"
Soldiers stiffened, rifles coming up in a wave of metallic clicks. But Sico's voice cut through the mounting panic.
"Hold fire! Minimum casualties!"
He steadied the dart gun, lined up the shot. The mutant's chest heaved, its broad shoulders rolling as it lumbered forward into the open.
Sico fired.
The dart struck high in its shoulder. The mutant jerked as if stung, let out a furious howl, and staggered against the wall. Its rebar club smashed into the concrete, sending shards of stone spraying. For a horrible moment, it looked like the sedative hadn't worked.
Then its movements slowed. Its roar weakened into a deep, slurred growl. It stumbled, swaying like a drunk, before dropping to its knees. Another moment, and the massive figure toppled sideways into the rubble with a crash that sent dust spiraling.
Two down.
The convoy was alive with movement now. Commandos shouted to one another, boots pounding as they swarmed to secure the second target. Chains rattled, cages creaked, men grunted with effort as they tried to wrestle limbs the size of tree trunks into bindings.
But the third mutant didn't hesitate. It charged.
From deeper in the building came a deafening roar, followed by the thunder of massive feet pounding across concrete. The thing burst through the shattered front of the apartment block, smashing through a half-hanging doorframe like it was made of paper. Dust and plaster exploded outward as the hulking figure stormed into the open street.
Its eyes locked straight onto the lead Humvee. Onto Sico.
"HUUMAAAN!"
It was already sprinting.
The ground shook with each stride, asphalt cracking under its weight. Commandos screamed warnings, rifles snapping up, but Sico barked his order before they could fire.
"Hold! I've got it!"
He jerked the bolt back, slammed another dart into the chamber, and raised the gun. Robert was shouting something, but Sico barely heard him over the roar of the mutant closing the distance. The thing's footsteps pounded louder and louder, a storm bearing down, until it filled Sico's vision entirely.
He aimed for the chest, steadying his breath—
Fired.
The dart hissed out, struck true. The mutant bellowed, clawing at its chest as the syringe stuck deep. But unlike the others, it didn't stumble immediately. It kept running, momentum carrying it forward, rage drowning out the sedative's creeping pull.
"Shit!" Robert snapped. "It's still coming!"
The monster was only fifty feet away now, then forty, then thirty. Its shadow swallowed the Humvee's hood. Soldiers screamed for permission to fire.
Sico didn't flinch. He snapped the bolt, slammed another dart in, and fired again.
This one hit the neck. The mutant roared, a horrible, guttural sound, before lurching forward another ten feet. Its rebar club swung upward, gleaming in the headlights—
Then its body seized. Its legs locked, momentum carrying it forward another few staggering steps—before it pitched forward and collapsed flat on its face, the rebar club clattering uselessly against the road.
Silence slammed down like a hammer.
The convoy froze, Commandos staring wide-eyed as dust settled over the street. For a few heartbeats, no one dared to move.
Then MacCready's laugh crackled over the radio, raw and disbelieving.
"Holy shit—it worked! You dropped the big bastard!"
The Commandos roared their relief, voices rising as the adrenaline bled into ragged laughter and frantic shouts. Some clapped each other on the back, others immediately rushed to secure the third mutant in chains, their movements clumsy with nerves but fast with urgency.
Robert exhaled hard, lowering his rifle as he turned toward Sico. "That was too close."
Sico simply reloaded, chambering another dart with the same steady precision. His voice was flat, almost cold.
"Two darts for the heavy ones. Remember that."
He glanced toward the cages, where the first mutant was being hoisted by sheer manpower, chains creaking under its weight. The second was already being dragged across the rubble, and now the third was beginning to be bound, its enormous body twitching faintly as the sedative sank deeper.
"Get them loaded," Sico ordered, his voice sharp over the radio. "Now. Before more show up."
The dust hadn't even fully settled when Sico's voice cut sharp across the convoy.
"MacCready," he barked into the radio, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Take twenty Commandos, sweep the block. Anything that broke loose during the fight, anything screaming in the shadows—I want it put down. Quiet and clean. No stragglers left to hound our trucks."
There was a beat of static, then MacCready's voice came through, calm but threaded with adrenaline. "Copy that, boss. Twenty men. Sweep and clear. We'll smoke out the rats before they start biting."
The rear Humvee's engine revved, its headlights cutting swaths of pale light across the gutted tenements. Soldiers peeled away in groups, their boots pounding the broken asphalt as they split into tactical units. Some darted into alleyways with rifles shouldered, others stacked against the doorframes of collapsed apartment blocks. The sharp clicks of safeties flicking off carried through the night, punctuated by the quick, staccato hand signals of men moving with urgency.
Sico didn't watch them leave. His eyes had already shifted back to the three fallen monsters. Their chests rose and fell in deep, heavy rhythm, each breath a guttural growl dragged out through sedation. Chains rattled around them as Commandos wrestled with the sheer size of their limbs. It was like trying to shackle boulders that occasionally twitched.
"Robert," Sico said, his voice lower now but edged with command. "You supervise loading. I want every link locked, every cage reinforced before they move an inch. If one wakes up halfway, this street turns into a graveyard."
Robert gave a quick nod, jaw tight, his eyes flicking from the hulking silhouettes on the ground to the waiting flatbeds. "Understood. I'll ride the men hard. We'll get them secure."
He slung his rifle over his back, already moving toward the first team struggling with the balcony mutant. The men had managed to slip a chain around one of its massive arms, but the weight was dragging them like oxen in a mud pit. Robert's voice cracked like a whip.
"Keep the chain taut! Don't let slack build or it'll whip free. You—yes, you—get the second loop under the armpit, not the elbow. Think leverage, not muscle!"
The soldiers grunted in response, sweat gleaming under their helmets as they strained against the dead weight.
Sico, meanwhile, stayed near the lead Humvee, dart gun still in his hands, eyes scanning the block. Every broken window felt like a watching eye. Every gust of wind stirring the rubble sounded too much like boots shifting in cover. The adrenaline hadn't bled from him yet. He knew how fast things could turn. One roar, one loose brick, and the whole operation could collapse into chaos.
The street was alive with noise now. The metallic screech of chains dragging over asphalt. The grunt and curse of men as they heaved against muscle and bone that outweighed them three to one. The clatter of cages being pried wider on the trucks, reinforced with makeshift braces welded days before this mission. All threaded through with the distant, echoing cracks of rifles—MacCready's sweep team flushing out the stragglers.
From time to time, a bellow reached the convoy, muffled but bone-deep, as some cornered mutant found itself cut down. Each one carried like a warning bell.
Robert's voice rose above the din, commanding, correcting, cajoling. "Easy, easy—don't pull against each other, you're fighting your own damn team. Coordinate the lift. On three, damn it. One, two—heave!"
The first mutant's body finally scraped onto a metal sled, sparks flying as its weight ground against the frame. Men swarmed the sides, pushing and pulling until it lurched up against the flatbed. Chains tightened, ratchets squealed, locks slammed shut.
Sico didn't need to step in. That was Robert's domain now. His second's sharp tone carried the authority of someone who had seen too many botched loads turn into funerals.
Instead, Sico kept his eyes on the street, every sense sharpened. The quiet moments between MacCready's bursts of gunfire were worse than the shooting. They left space for imagination to conjure shadows that moved too quickly, silhouettes too tall in broken doorways.
Minutes dragged. Sweat carved lines through grime on men's faces as they worked. Every chain was a battle, every heave a risk of waking the monsters too early. The sedative was strong, yes—but not perfect. No one knew how long it would hold, or how quickly these brutes could shrug it off once rage and adrenaline returned to their veins.
The second mutant was halfway into its cage when its massive arm twitched. Just a spasm—nothing more—but the chain crew flinched like it was a whip. One soldier yelped, scrambling back, nearly dropping his end.
"Hold steady!" Robert roared, his voice cracking across the moment like thunder. "It twitches, that's all. You let go again, and I'll have you in the cage with it!"
The men grit their teeth and redoubled their effort. The sound of ratchets turning came like salvation, each click a small victory.
Over the radio, MacCready checked in.
"Boss, sweep team's cleared three blocks out. Found two runners—dropped 'em both. No heat signs beyond that. Looks like the noise scared the rest deeper into the ruins."
"Stay sharp," Sico replied, his tone clipped. "Noise has a way of calling cousins in this city. Keep your men wide and circling until all three are loaded. No gaps."
"Roger that. We'll keep the wolves from the door."
By the time the third mutant was finally secured, the men were running on fumes. Muscles trembled with strain, gloves slick with sweat, breaths ragged in the cooling night air. The cages groaned under the strain, reinforced steel flexing with every unconscious shift of the titans inside.
But they were in. All three of them. Locked, bound, chained.
Robert gave the final lock a sharp tug, then slammed his fist against the metal. The sound rang out, solid. He turned, wiping a streak of dirt across his brow, and met Sico's eyes across the street.
"Secure," he said simply. His voice carried the weight of exhaustion but also the edge of grim pride.
Sico gave a single nod, his expression unreadable in the Humvee's glare.
"Good. Mount up. We're not lingering here."
The Commandos began to pile back into vehicles, movements sluggish but precise, discipline holding through the fatigue. The engines rumbled to life one by one, headlights cutting through the rubble-strewn darkness.
But Sico didn't climb in just yet. He stood by the lead Humvee, dart gun still in hand, scanning the skeletal city around them. For a long moment, he listened—to the distant echoes of MacCready's men regrouping, to the groans of shifting metal as the cages settled, to the deep, unnatural rhythm of the mutants' breathing.
Only when he was sure no new roar rose from the ruins did he finally sling the dart gun and step toward his door.
"Let's move," he said into the radio, his voice carrying through every earpiece. "Convoy, roll out."
The engines roared in unison. The convoy began to crawl forward, flatbeds groaning under their monstrous cargo. The night swallowed the sound, carrying it away into the dead city.
The convoy moved like a steel serpent through the ruins, headlights sweeping over broken walls, fractured storefronts, and the skeletons of cars long since rusted to their bones. The cages rattled on the flatbeds, each jolt sending a low groan of metal that raised the hairs on the back of every man's neck. Inside, the mutants shifted slightly, their unconscious weight testing the chains, but none stirred enough to break the silence.
The air inside the lead Humvee was thick. The smell of sweat, gun oil, and the faint chemical tang of the darts clung to everything. Sico sat in the passenger seat, helmet tilted back, his dart gun resting across his lap though his hands never quite left it. His eyes weren't on the road ahead but on the shadows slipping by outside.
Robert was across from him, squeezed into the rear seat, his armor still dusty from the fight. He leaned back against the seat, head tilted, but his eyes were alive—sharpened by the adrenaline that still hadn't let him go. He hadn't spoken since giving the final "secure" call. Not until Sico finally broke the silence.
"How many did we lose?"
The question landed heavy in the small space, like a hammer dropped onto glass. Even the driver's hands tightened around the wheel, waiting for the answer.
Robert drew in a long breath through his nose, then let it out in a slow sigh. "Fifteen wounded," he said. His voice was steady, almost too steady, as if he was making sure of the number in his own head. "No deaths."
Sico's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "None?"
Robert met his gaze, nodding once. "Not a single one." His voice carried a note of disbelief, even as he repeated it. "Cuts, bruises, broken bones, a few nasty gashes. Two concussions. One poor bastard nearly had his arm snapped clean off by a swinging doorframe when that third mutant went down. But nobody in a body bag."
The silence that followed was sharper than the fight had been. Even the hum of the engine seemed to fall away.
For a moment, Sico just stared at Robert, his jaw clenched tight, the weight of the words refusing to settle in. In this kind of operation—three mutants, a firefight in the ruins, dozens of soldiers exposed in the open—losses weren't a possibility. They were an expectation. Death was the price you counted before the battle even started.
Yet somehow… not one.
Robert let out a short, disbelieving laugh and shook his head. "Hell, I'm as shocked as you are. Thought for sure we'd be writing letters by dawn. But the men—" he stopped, swallowed, then started again, softer. "The men were godsdamn good tonight. And maybe… maybe we were just lucky."
"Luck doesn't chain three mutants," Sico muttered, but his voice wasn't harsh. More thoughtful, like he was trying to weigh the truth of it.
Robert leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Maybe not. But I'll take it all the same. No widows tonight. No empty bunks." His words carried a quiet gravity that filled the Humvee more than the rumble of its engine.
Sico finally let his eyes drift back out to the ruins passing by, but there was a tightness in his throat he didn't name. He'd seen too many nights end with men carried home in silence. Too many mornings with boots lined neatly by doors that would never be worn again. Tonight wasn't one of those nights. And that—he couldn't decide if it made him proud, or unsettled.
The convoy pressed on.
Out past the city ruins, the night opened wider. The cracked asphalt gave way to stretches of overgrown road where weeds thrust through fissures like defiant fingers. The moon hung low, painting the flatbeds and their monstrous cargo in a ghostly sheen. Every so often, one of the mutants would shift, dragging a chain taut, and the men riding shotgun in the flatbeds would flinch, rifles rising instinctively before settling again.
Sico kept the radio chatter to a minimum. Just a few status checks, MacCready's sweep team regrouping into the column, reports of silence along the flanks. The less noise, the better. The fewer distractions, the sharper the edge.
But as the first faint glimmer of Sanctuary's walls came into view on the horizon, tension started to loosen in the men's shoulders. The thought of home—even the fortified, ever-patrolled home they'd built—was enough to crack the steel shell of exhaustion.
The convoy slowed as it reached the bridge. Floodlights snapped on from the far side, sweeping over the vehicles in blinding arcs. The gatehouse bristled with rifles, shadows of guards standing ready at every window and parapet. It wasn't mistrust; it was protocol. Even familiar convoys could bring unexpected shadows.
"Convoy inbound," Sico's voice carried over the radio, steady and commanding. "Stand down your rifles, Sanctuary. Friendlies returning with cargo."
The response came quick, the relief clear in the guard's voice. "Copy that, Commander. Gates opening."
The massive steel barricades groaned as they rolled aside. The convoy crossed the bridge in slow, deliberate rhythm, tires crunching over the wooden planks reinforced with steel. The water below caught the moonlight in restless ripples.
And then—finally—they were home.
The moment the last truck rolled past the gate, the heavy steel slammed shut again, locking the outside world away with a final, echoing thud. The air inside Sanctuary was different. Safer. Still tense, yes, but it carried the familiar weight of watchful eyes, not unknown threats.
"Convoy, park in front of the Science Building," Sico ordered, his voice cutting through the earpieces of every soldier. "We prep to move the cages there."
Engines growled as the line of vehicles curved toward the heart of Sanctuary. The Science Building loomed ahead, its reinforced structure lit by floodlights, the wide courtyard empty and waiting. The building had been retrofitted for exactly this purpose: research, containment, controlled experiments. It was the only place strong enough to hold what they'd brought back.
The trucks rumbled to a halt one by one, headlights spilling across the cracked pavement. Engines shut down, leaving only the creak of metal cages and the distant murmur of the river beyond the walls.
Commandos climbed out, boots heavy on the ground, faces pale with exhaustion but lit faintly with pride. They had done it. Against every odd, every instinct telling them this mission would eat them alive, they had done it.
Sico stepped down from the Humvee last, boots striking the pavement with sharp finality. He stood in the glow of the floodlights, eyes fixed on the cages as if daring the monsters inside to stir.
________________________________________________
• 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:-