Fallout 4 Mercenary Novels & Stories

"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?"

" we haven't heard anything about your families and friends , And you have been reported missing for quite sometime ...." Loveth cuts him off quickly " I am an orphan and I happened to be sold to a mercenary by my foster father . So kindly move on to something else. I no longer have business with my past ." Loveth crossed her legs as she waited for the next question even though she knew she had given too much information to the public and right now a part of her solemnly regretted it but it was too late already . " So lastly we hope you will honour our invitation next time ."

She clamped her teeth together until she tasted copper. Seconds later, the beam of a high-powered tactical light swept down the lane. The first mercenary stepped into view. He was clad in matte-black body armor, a customized assault rifle raised to his shoulder. He stopped right in front of the blood smear, his light focusing on the rusted latch. "Got a trail," the merc muttered into his collar mic, stepping closer to investigate. "Looks like she tried to hide inside the lower tier." He turned his back to Nora's true hiding spot.

Video! Harlan understood. He grabbed a heavy flashlight, smashed a small hole in a boarded window, and bellowed into the rain, mimicking the mercenary roughness. **<< PHOENIX COMMAND! HEAR ME! SHOW US MACK! ALIVE AND TALKING! NOW! OR NO DEAL! >>** Silence stretched. Seconds bled away. Two minutes. Then, a flicker of light from the tree line. Not a muzzle flash. The glow of a tablet screen, held aloft by a mercenary. A grainy, rain-spattered video feed appeared.

It might not be his actual death, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t feel real. “Are you okay?” Luka asked, returning to my side after defeating the Golem. “He… I…. He… What…” I stuttered, unable to form a complete sentence, let alone even form a solid thought. “Mercenaries are trained to kill themselves if they are captured. They are insanely loyal to their cause. He was never going to give up who sent him. But I already know.” “Then who?”

Chapter 24: The Butcher of Life Nine ​The rain didn't just fall on Julian; it seemed to avoid him, parting around his frame as if afraid to touch the darkness radiating from his skin. The "Cleanup Team"—six men in tactical grey ceramic armor, wielding high-frequency pulse rifles—halted ten yards from the wreckage. They were professionals, trained to bag supernatural anomalies, but they weren't prepared for the ancient pressure now flattening the grass around the car. ​"Target identified," the lead mercenary barked into his comms. "Dr. Valerius is non-compliant. Engaging with stasis rounds."

’ Eric and Genevieve thought to themselves but didn’t dare say anything out loud as they noticed that Marcus’ mood had significantly improved as he had started to skip round his grandfather “But without any active abilities no academy will accept him.” Eric said with a sight tactfully choosing his words so as not to ruin the mood “Nonsense, with me around who needs a filthy academy let by a bunch of untalented Hunters.” Sword-saint Predator harrumphed and Marcus only grew more excited and both Eric and Genevieve could only shake their head as a smile wormed its way into their formerly gloomy faces.

As soon as I walked in, about a dozen blades were aimed at me. “Halt!” a voice growled. I dropped to one knee in the sand, gasping dramatically. “Don’t shoot. Please, I’m just a mercenary! Just looking for coin! I need work.” Before I knew it, four scouts surrounded me. I could see the suspicion in their eyes. I expected this. A tall man stepped forward. I could tell he was a sergeant by the shoulder plating. One of his eyes had a deep scar. “You’ve got guts, walking in like that.” He said “Or you’ve got a death wish.”

The one mercenary standing in an open area that’s why the assassin shoot him first. Bang! The one mercenary fall on the ground and dyed with his own blood, the assassin shot him in his head. The one mercenary died instantly. The four mercenaries were alerted when they saw that there allied died and someone shoot him headshot. They took there gun and sniper to find Where’s the enemy’s exact location. It was dark outside, so it’s not easy to find him. They used the ultra light dark telescope to find and scanned the surroundings but they didn’t catch him.

Now, stripped of their weapons, armor, and authority, they huddle together in the freezing dark, shivering in their soiled uniforms as they realize they were never meant to survive this campaign. Mercer didn't just abandon his frontline camp; he locked his own failing forces down here to rot once they outlived their tactical usefulness, sealing them away like garbage to hide the evidence of his crumbling empire. The sheer callousness of his betrayal sickens me, proving once again that the syndicate values its foot soldiers even less than we value our pack animals.