Dc Mercenary Novels & Stories

Brand had forgotten what it felt like – the all-consuming need for the blood of his enemies to be spilled on the ground at his feet. Brand shook his head another scream was silenced as he ripped out another throat. The blood dripped from his long snout as he took a breath and looked around him. Leather-clad warriors lay around him, some with eyes open staring at the sky as if looking for the Valkyries coming to take them to Valhalla. Brand snorted. Good luck. He couldn't believe the gods would want any of these followers of a deranged leader in their feasting halls.

"You're Jason Leigh, right? Human resources informed me that you're only a high school graduate. Do you really understand all this?" "I used to be a mercenary," I corrected him in a calm but clear voice. Tony was taken aback, but he quickly laughed out loud. His laugh was so loud that it echoed throughout the workshop. The people standing next to him laughed along. "What's a mercenary doing here as a stockkeeper? Who would believe you, Leigh?"

(He says placing his hands in his pockets with his thumbs out as he appears to lean back relax and nonchalantly) Sergeant Richards: Quite the mouth you're subordinate has there. It'll be a shame if we couldn't actually work on a deal after all I am interested in employing you all as mercenaries but not for any government. (He says as he holds up a flyer for a recruitment station Danztler had once placed back in Tokyo) Dantzler: See Xanne! He said the work word!! This means potential ally. Xanne: What about our fuel? Also who you calling a subordinate?!

These individuals were stronger and higher ranked than the ones keeping watch on Darcy. The members of Zion Mercenaries were mostly war veterans. The organization was active in the western criminal world. The members were highly involved in overturning political powers and assassinating political figures.

“Who are you?” The man stopped near the bottom of the stairs. “Director Adrian Mercer.” Mercer. The name meant nothing to me. But Lucien physically flinched. And Cameron ... Cameron went still in a way that made my wolf uneasy. Not because he recognized the man. Because he recognized the title. Director. Not Commander. Not Council member. Not even a general or something like that. He was something above standard military structure. Mercer folded his hands behind his back almost casually. “I oversaw the Blackridge behavioral adaptation initiative during the border wars.”

"She's a former sniper, dishonorably discharged, and was recently a suspect in a case down in Columbia along with this character." Once more the screen changed. A dark eyed man with tousled hair was captured walking down a street, facing a camera. "Damian Naraujo, who lives in El Paso. Naraujo on the surface is just a computer consultant, but we know of him because of his work in South America. He's a mercenary, people or companies hire him to take out competitors in emerging markets. Mostly tech, but he'll do anything for anyone at the right price." "And you think he's related all because of a dead body?" Priscilla wasn't sure she bought that. It was a leap. A big one.

Not yet an animal. A mercenary with a bastard sword suddenly squeezed Vic's shoulder, who never got close to the target, and pushed him back. He moved cautiously towards the prince. He was in no hurry to attack, remembering Vestovoy, where he had recently witnessed how ten Daitra soldiers were killed under the sword of this guy, who decided to irrevocably borrow money from a lone traveler. And now this. The mercenary spat, not knowing whether to believe the prince. In his long career as an assassin, he had never fought the undead. However, it did not matter much, they had to fulfill the order anyway. That is the law.

He betrayed me and even though he knew how dangerous I was, he still had the effrontery to visit my lair. The uproar of my fellow members jolted me back to reality. "Everyone! Cheers to the Lord of the house, Zeus!" I chuckled as my group of six happily clapped their glasses of beers against each other. This is what one gets when you choose to have your lair be a bar in disguise. The mornings up to the early nights were for humans while the deep nights were for us werewolves. We were called the Hunter Mercenaries, a group of skilled werewolf mercenaries led by me. Some of us here were wanted and some were new recruits to replace our fallen. Simon for starters. There he was, his young stature

“I take it that the two of you have grown a lot closer over the months” “For someone who has come to attack my pack, threatening to kidnap MY mate, I am actually very surprised that you had the guts to show up here” Dante said, glaring at the man who frowned. He shrugged his shoulders as Mikhail approached us, standing a step behind his ‘boss’, or in everyone’s eyes, his ‘CEO’. “I have to say, I should have listened to my guts and killed you years ago. I swear, things wouldn’t have reached to this point, and the little prostitute that you call mate would have been dead alongside her father; but nevertheless…”