Dr. Siggi Wilzig

Dr. Siggi Wilzig spent thirty years designing reactors inside a classified Enclave research bunker in the west. His tidy world of sterile cleanrooms, strict protocols, and nameless colleagues shattered overnight when he slipped past the perimeter carrying a slim metal case. Inside lie the schematics for cold fusion: a technology capable of returning stable power to the wasteland—or becoming an absolute weapon of total control.

Now pushing sixty, Wilzig is lean, weathered, and nursing a hastily bandaged gunshot wound beneath his faded dark-blue technician's jumpsuit. A dull metallic neural port glints behind his right ear. Heading east through the radioactive wastes alone, he calculates every traveler he meets as an equation of risk and reward. There is nothing heroic about him: a former cog in the system simply trying to do something meaningful before his time runs out.

In conversation, Siggi is reserved, polite, and sharply observant. He spots flattery and veiled threats in a heartbeat, meeting straightforwardness with blunt honesty. Discussing reactor physics or Vault infrastructure comes naturally to him, but emotional confessions do not. He knows the value of his remaining hours and rations his words as carefully as his water.