Fallout: Wasteland Doll Commander

The setting sun cast long shadows across the skeletal skyline of Lexington. From a rusted billboard just outside the city limits, Sarah peered through the haze, her optics tracking flickers of heat and motion within the crumbling silhouette of the Corvega Assembly Plant.

Sarah (grim):"Yeap… they've really dug in deeper than I thought. That place is completely a fortress now."

Beside her, HK416 fine-tuned her scope, voice cold and clinical.

HK416:"Thermal confirms over eighty hostiles. Upper catwalks, boiler halls, external scaffolds. One heavy weapon signature—RPG-7."

Sarah:"think his underling called him, Jared."

The name lingered, acrid as smoke.

UMP45 (over comms):"He's the bastard who shot us down in Lexington, right~~ Boss?"

Sarah:"yes, His handiwork. Same launcher signature."

UMP9: "Ooooh, I'm sensing a revenge arc. So Boss, Should we cue the dramatic music?"

G11 (half-asleep): "...Only if I get to nap afterward."

Down by the perimeter wall, Nate and Preston emerged from a scouting run, dust clinging to their armor.

Preston:"Back access is a no-go. Raiders sealed it with rubble and barbed wire. No easy breach."

Nate: "They've got firing lines all over the place. We'd be shredded on approach."

Sarah nodded and tapped her folded map, now spread across a nearby crate.

Sarah: "We're not walking through the front door. Not yet. We prep the Forward Operating Base here at Starlight, and deploy Heavy Ordnance Corps Mk 47 Striker should be arrive soon. Then—Team 404 leads infiltration. Small unit, fast and precise."

Nate folded his arms, frowning.

Nate:"You sure your Dolls can handle a hundred dug-in lunatics?"

Sarah (evenly):"They're not just Dolls."

She glanced down from the billboard. Under the overpass, Team 404 lounged like apex predators between kills—UMP45 lazily oiling her weapon, HK416 disassembling hers with mechanical precision, UMP9 tossing a spent mag like a coin, and G11 dozing in the shade, one eye cracked open.

Sarah:"They're war-forged assets. You'll see."

Preston (quiet):"Jared really kicked off the Lexington collapse… then he's also the reason nake difficult on my team escape from quincy."

Sarah's tone cooled.

Sarah:"Then it ends here. For Quincy. For everyone who still believes the Minutemen can stand."

Lightning flared to the east. The storm was drawing closer.

Inside the Starlight Drive-In, the command tent buzzed under flickering lanterns. A holo-map of the Corvega plant glowed atop a crate, surrounded by crates of munitions and marked rifles.

Just outside the tent, a deep mechanical growl rolled across the lot.

An olive-drab military Humvee, restored from Red Rocket salvage, rolled into the forward camp—its engine smooth, tires kicking up grit. Scars of rust and burn still marked its panels, but it ran with purpose.

As it came to a stop, the passenger door swung open.

Mayling stepped out in her Division coat, tugging a lock of hair behind one ear and waving off the light drizzle. The rear compartment swung open to reveal racks of weapons, mod kits, and salvaged optics.

Sarah (smirking):"Well, look what the wasteland dragged in."

Mayling (dryly):"Don't thank me. The hummer's just a glorified vending machine."

UMP9 (eyeing the goods):"Ooooh, is that a night-vision mount for the BAR?"

Mayling:"Hey Hey, Caps up front, 404. I run a business, it's not a charity."

UMP9 boooed on Mayling's comment.

Sarah turned to the others.

Sarah:"Division support may wear friendly colors, but we pay like everyone else. Public face matters—this needs to look like a mercenary contract, not a shadow war."

Preston nodded.

Preston:"Then I'll pull the squad leaders. They'll know what gear to requisition."

Sarah:"And tell them to save receipts. I'm not footing their bad decisions."

She turned back to the map and pointed to the western service tunnel.

Sarah (focused):"With Jared's locked tight. As Minutemen stir the front with Mortar support from MK47. 404 flanks him. If he bolts, we've got the "Ghost Mule" ready to intercept."

HK416 (flat):"You're still calling it that?"

Sarah (grinning faintly):"It fits. Silent, ugly, and it gets the job done."

UMP45:"Well.....Bet it still beats riding Brahmin carts."

G11 (murmuring):"Still dibs the back seat…"

Sarah keyed her comm.

Sarah:"ISAC, log vehicle: operational. Codename 'Ghost Mule.'"

ISAC (chime):"Asset confirmed. Systems stable. Route synchronized."