Fallout 4 Mercenary Novels & Stories

As the weak morning sun finally broke through the gray highland mist, the distant, burned-out silhouette of the western bottleneck came into view. Waiting at the tree line, looking thoroughly exhausted, damp, and deeply confused, were the surviving remnants of his mercenary vanguard. Out of an elite fifty-man tactical team, only about twelve were left standing. They were huddled around a pathetic, smoking campfire, wrapped in emergency blankets, their high-tech armor dented and scored by massive wolf claw marks. When the mercenary commander saw a disheveled, half-naked, limping man covered in mud and seaweed dragging himself out of the heather, he instantly drew his sidearm. "Halt! Who goes—

“But we won’t sacrifice our morals or our souls for it.” The Keeper cackled, their amusement growing. “Oh, how noble of you. But I’m afraid finding your friend requires a greater sacrifice than mere morals or souls.” Reina frowned, her grip relaxing slightly. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously. The Keeper approached them, their eyes flashing with dark magic. “The only way to find Adelia is to enter the realm of the Mevara,” they said solemnly. “You must journey through the Shift Tower and face the challenges that lie within. But be warned, the cost of entering the realm of the Mevara is steep. You must give up a part of yourself.”

In a natural limestone bowl sheltered from the worst of the wind, the council's hired mercenary camp buzzed with cold, calculating efficiency. Roughly twenty mercenaries—hardened veterans of the southern border wars, clad in mismatched tactical gear and heavy leather dusters—sat around a series of low-burning campfires. They weren't high council enforcers bound by protocol or uniform; they were apex predators-for-hire, answerable only to whoever paid the highest bounty in silver and gold.

"There are at least four of them... heavily armed..." "Stay down," I whispered, my voice dropping all hesitation, turning icy, sharp, and lethal. The heavy thud of boots descended into the muddy slope. A beam of white light shone directly into the shattered windshield, illuminating the empty front seats. "Target isn't in the front," a mercenary called out, stepping closer to the driver’s side door with his rifle raised. "Moving to inspect the rear—" Before he could finish, I kicked the crushed passenger door open with everything I had. The heavy metal slammed straight into the mercenary’s knee with a sickening crack. He screamed out in pain, stumbling backward into the mud.

The screen was flashing in bright, blinding orange text: [AUXILIARY POWER BUS 04 OVERLOAD] [THERMAL RUNAWAY INITIATED IN 00:00:30] "You fool!" Thorne screamed, dropping her calm facade completely as she turned toward her mercenary. "Kill him!" "NOT TODAY!" I roared, bursting out from behind the junction box! BANG! My first shot caught the mercenary square in the side of his neck. The heavy round tore through his tactical collar, severing his carotid artery in a violent spray of crimson as he collapsed sideways into the transformer bank, his knife clattering across the iron floor.

made my stomach clench. Falco met the man halfway, hands at his sides, posture textbook respectful. “Sorry, sir. Got turned around looking for the restroom. Miss Ava here was helping me.” He lied with such easy confidence that I almost believed it myself. The merc’s head swiveled between us, lens gaze locking on my face, then back to Falco. There was a pause, long enough for me to feel sweat bead under my arms. “Return to your assigned post,” the merc said. The tone was pure military: clipped, final, no room for argument.

“I swear I’ll have the money by next Friday. I have a new gig lined up—” She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly lowered herself onto the wide leather couch, crossing her long legs. The silk robe parted just enough to reveal a smooth thigh. She didn’t speak for a long moment, letting the silence crush me. When she finally did, her voice was low, smooth, and terrifyingly composed. “Alex Mercer. Twenty-one years old. Computer science student. Broke, irresponsible, and apparently under the impression that I run a charity.” She tilted her head slightly. “I don’t.”

"Since we've made too many enemies, we might draw too much attention." "Mercernaries…" Bigby murmured and nodded. "Oh, I got it! We can go to the Merc Union!" Caleb nodded. "Alright, let's go to their base." Oxley, Fafnir, and Bigby nodded and changed headings, arriving at Harvest Sun, a second-rate city. The Merc Union had a base in every city, where even cultivators could register as mercenaries or build a merc team. They could then receive and conduct missions to make money.

Taro crouched behind a stack of rusted shipping containers, rain pelting his armor, his rifle held tight against his chest. Yosuke knelt beside him, checking his watch in the dark. "Downtown grid's dead, Taro. No cop radios. Open highway." "Then let's go get paid." Taro's voice came out as a low growl. "We take the warehouse, we put a bullet in Moretti's brain." He waved his hand, and thirty mercenaries in black tactical gear broke across the wet asphalt, rushing the reinforced steel doors of Warehouse Four. "Get the charges on the hinges! Now!" Taro barked.

I had buried that body myself, crying like a child. A loud knock on the door made me jump. "Alpha!" my Beta, Marcus, shouted. "The mercenary is here. The one we hired to protect the borders. She just drove through the front gates." "I’m coming," I said. I wiped my eyes and put on my Alpha face, the face that was made of cold stone. I walked down to the front courtyard. I expected a dirty wolf in old clothes. Instead, a huge, black armored SUV, a car that looked like a tank pulled up. The engine roared like a monster.