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Post by danjaman on May 12, 2012 20:55:41 GMT -5
"Sergei."
After a heavy night drinking whatever was available for a modest price, sleep had come heavy, and dreams were vague and failed recollection.
"Red monkey, you sleep too long. Sergei!"
Serrgei sturred with his head swimming and the first sensation to greet him was a dull thumping headache, of the kind only a hearty breakfast could cure.
"I'm ready, give me a minute..." he pleaded without full knowledge of who he was talking to.
Sergei sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It made little difference to the way that he felt, but at least he could see a bit better. It was not a dissapointment to find his comrade Viktor's head looking down on him from the curtained doorway. At least it wasn't the patrol seargent.
"Oh fucking tunnel trash, we go to Sevastopolskaja now, right?"
The memory of todays orders hit him like a railcar full in the face. He was already fumbling out of his sleeping bag.
"Yes, how exciting, Sergei. Get moving now, okay? Some day I'll let you sleep and watch you get your ass kicked!" Viktor laughed and let the flap of the hessian curtain fall back.
Sergei got up, lit the pig oil lamp, and with water from his field canteen washed his face, the tepid water bringing him one step closer to being useful. He had to gather a few things, but not much; his rifle and flashlight was a good start. He was still dressed from the night before which helped, he just had to neaten himself up a bit and find his helmet. The caravan escort duty was nothing new, quite routine really and it felt good somehow to leave the ringline for a while. As comfortable as it was, it felt somehow constricting, and at least he and his patrol could be their own boss for a brief time in the tunnels; so long as the shipment got through. He found he was all of a sudden instilled with enthusiasm which, unlike many of the Hanse troopers, he was known for.
Ready and willing Sergei blew out the lamp and left his cubicle. A small step above the tents that the transiants had to sleep in, but he was more than content with it. He prefered in some ways the seclusion of a campfire beyond the five hundredth meter. But what a Hanse passport could grant you was of course sometimes, even to him, a pleasant reward. Afterall, you couldn't so readily get drunk and collapse out in the tunnels.
They were to rendevous at the south tunnel checkpoint, and it seemed that Viktor had started out ahead of him. He set off whistling a tune he had heard round a campfire with his comrades at Avtosavodskaja, the memory of his Trotskyist friends singing along brought a smile to his face. He would contribute a few cartridges, metro made of course not currency, to his next delivery to them. This was for him an habitual homage to their cause and they were always grateful for it. And in any case, he would be rationed a magazine for the trip and a couple cartridges would not be missed. He kept them by in a small tin container in his billet. But for now, he had to think of the job at hand.
The way to Sevastopolskaja was not too dangerous. They could find mutants to deal with when passing through Nagornaja, due to the jammed open gates to the surface, but he'd been through there on more than one occasion and they would have half a dozen good men, so it was not too daunting really. It would be nice to see the Sevastopolers again, they were a rare breed, very resolute in the defence of their station, and honest with it. There was also the outside chance they would bump into Stalkers, who used the Nagornaja gate for some of their expeditions, though he had never seen them there. It could happen.
This would be a good trip he thought to himself.
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Post by The Karcolith on May 13, 2012 23:48:20 GMT -5
"So you want to take part in this escort do you?" The guard asked Oleg eying him suspiciously, "Show me your passport again, stalker. He said adding vemon to the last word.
Passing his worn passport to the guard we hoped he wouldn't question to much about his past.
"Is everything in order?" Oleg asked politely, to avoid annoying the already tense guard.
"It's fine, go over thee, they wanted extra firepower, and..."The guard was said, handing back his passport but paused, "Where did you get that gun?" He questioned spying the rather rare OC-14 hanging from Oleg's shoulder.
"Oh this, I happened to find one while exploring the surface one time. I had to modify it a fair bit so it fired the usual 5 45 rounds." Oleg said rather glad for the subject change.
Okay well, as I was saying, go over there, and stand near the tracks, someone will eventually assign you something to do. Now get." The guard continued.
Pushing his passport into his coat pocket and slinging his pack over his shoulder Oleg made his way to where some people were standing, watching others loading containers on the carts.
"I've signed up to help with the escort, who do I talk to?" He asked.
"Go down to the south tunnel's checkpoint." A man with a raspy voice said, pointing in the direction.
"Thank you." Oleg said and made his way towards the checkpoint.
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Post by spartacus on May 14, 2012 4:11:29 GMT -5
David Volkov stood straight on the caravan platform as he gripped the Duplet in between his hands, running his finger across the barrell. He had been born and raised mostly in the Hanse, making a living with these caravan trips. All he wanted in life, quite clearly, was to get the job done, go home and get drunk. Life, for David, was simple. This was just another caravan run he was assigned to do and he hoped to have it over within a few days.
As he spread his gaze around he saw two fairly burly men chatting away at the checkpoint and made the obvious assumption. "Hey! You the guns-for-hire? Over here!" David bellowed, his unattractive, grisly voice bouncing off the tunnel walls toward his quarries.
As they approached, he noticed how heavily armed they were, especially compared to himself and his simple shotgun. Heavily armed people meant they had made enemies. Enemies meant trouble for the caravan. "Great." he muttered darkly to himself, "These guys look like trouble."
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Post by danjaman on May 14, 2012 9:21:38 GMT -5
The caravan leader steppd out of the dispatch office, he'd been given the inventory to be checked on arrival and unloading at Savastopolskaja, the usual munitions and supplies, and of course the packet of tea for his old friend Istomin, the Sevastopol governor: the caravan leader looked after his old war comrades.
"Where the hell is everbody," he growled while finding the head count still three short as Viktor Petrinov strolled up.
"Sergei is on his way," Viktor couldn't help a smile.
"Then who else are we missing, we should be gone by now! And we have only three of you regular Hansa to maybe two strangers here, what is this shit?"
The caravan leader was a good man and relaxed when on the tracks, but got a bit edgy before departures, he hated being late to his destination without good reason.
"I dunno." Shrugged Viktor, and tried to busy himself helping the loading team finish up.
Sergei had been to the armory and claimed his ammunition for the trip, a full magazine to add to the two thirds full one he already had. While locking and loading the fresh ammo he'd been joined by another Hansa trooper, who looked quite green, maybe only a week since drafted to the expeditionaries. They were talking about what to expect on the road ahead as they made their way to the rendevous point.
"Sergei Vasilevich, reporting for duty." he pronounced with a rigid salute.
The cheeky feiged formalities were for Viktor's benefit, though noone dared laugh as the last cargo was put on board. The leader ignored Sergei's tone, though chalked it up for later should he throw the book at them. He could tell the soldier behind was new to this, the eyes gave it away, probably never stepped foot passed the three hundrededth meter...
"So, new guy, stick with Viktor over there."
He gestured to the big guy and ignored Sergei for the moment. The checkpoint guards had just given him the list of those accompanying him on the expedition and he wanted to make sure he had exactly who he was supposed to...
"So we've got Viktor and Arseni," Arseni was the new guy; "Sergei the joker," he said with a scowling look straight at him, then moved on; "David. Good at least we've got one career soldier here, maybe we'll make it through afterall... welocome aboard." he said planting a palm on David's shoulder. "You guys decide who pushes the wagon first while I talk to our other companions."
There was a woman's name on the list too; but he couldn't see her anywhere. Ever the gentleman he would try and delay their departure for a minute to give her time to get signed up. He didn't particularly want a woman to look after nor be surrounded by drooling guards with their minds on the woman's ass and not on the tracks; but he didn't get to decide who came with, he only had to get everyone there and perhaps back again.
There was no note on the list as to whether the strangers were being paid as escort or were just making their way with the group as 'passengers'. He could have double checked at the departures office, but he would have to get to know them at some point anyway... He knew the score as to their usual purposes in these tunnels, he'd been running this caravan for a long time.
"Who are you, Stalker? You coming the full distance or you bugging out to the surface at Nagonaja?"
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 14, 2012 10:16:24 GMT -5
"WHOA! WHOA! WAIT FOR ME!", shouted Balalaika, her boots echoing loudly on the floor of the station as she ran, panting, towards the caravan. It was at times like these that she cursed her short legs. Last night had been spent knocking back mugs of cheap mushroom vodka, swearing loudly at silent locals and trying to make the pretty serving girl understand that, no, Balalaika was not interested in the male customers.
In the end, she'd been unceremoniously wrenched from her chair (an old wooden box) and hurled outside where the floor had welcomed her with open (and painfully hard) arms. The night following that incident had been spent in a corner of the station, with two stray dogs constantly trying to gain access to the contents of her bag. The short woman had awoken five minutes before, eyes bleary from lack of sleep and body ravaged by aching muscles.
But how had the great and dastardly stalker known as Balalaika ended up in such a dire situation? Well, all had started in a smoky, noisy little bar up in Kitai Gorod. After a particularly disastrous expedition to the surface, Balalaika had gone to drown herself in vodka. Eight glasses of the stuff later, Balalaika had found herself seated at a dirty, crowded table in the company of five gents busily rolling a pair of dice away. Swept up by liquor, the rattle of the dice and the tinking of bullets being tossed onto the betting table, Balalaika had gambled and gambled...until she had not a single round left.
Added to her bankruptcy was a colossal amount of money she owed a local arms dealer. Balalaika had promised the dealer that she'd pay him back as quickly as possible, and had thus been forced to take up any kind of work she could find, even the most disgraceful.
"You're...not leaving...yet?", she panted after skidding to a halt near the caravan, "No? Good! I'm Balalaika, I signed up for the escort..."
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Post by danjaman on May 14, 2012 11:31:15 GMT -5
Interupted by the late arrival, the leader carried on as if it was no trouble, though ofcourse ready to listen to the reply of the tall man in the long black coat. He hadn't forgotten about him.
"You some kind of Stalker too?" He said, trying not to sound too mythed, and not really requiring an answer from the woman.
"Okay, Balalaika," he said looking at the roster, "so you'll be with us all the way. I like to know the state of play before we set out, saves me worrying unnecessarily if someone leaves us unntoiced."
He stands ready for Oleg's reply, and any questions they might have...
"Anyway, we're almost ready here, we'll leave in two minutes, guys. So you staying the course too, Oleg?"
Sergei noticed the woman arrive as he double checked everything was seccurely loaded. It was rare that a woman would join this caravan maybe, but not unheard of. Made for a more interesting trip anyway, which was never a bad thing, both the unfamiliar faces looked like they might have a good story to tell. Sergei didn't know David Volkov too well, but recognised he was a seasoned soldier and had definitely seen him around before, the face seemed familiar. Could be they had been on duty before some time ago but he wasn't certain of that. Viktor looked to David and gave his opinion on the shift patterns:
"I think the new guy should push first." He said with a big grin, not unexpected, as he himself had had a pig's share of the donkey work himself on his first caravan, as likely had all the other guards.
Sergei, imediately started to laugh. "Well seen as though he's to stick with you, I guess you are volunteered too! I think that seems right, don't you, David?""
Viktor gave Sergei a nod, in appreciation of his own oversight and, taking the joke with customary good humour.
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Post by spartacus on May 14, 2012 13:12:50 GMT -5
David glanced to Sergei with a very unamused face, shooting him a dangerous glance of petty hate. Unfortunately for his reputation, he couldn't keep it up and soon begun chuckling with an accepting nod.
"Bah! Allright. Viktor! Looks like we're pushing because these lazy louts havn't got it in them!" David shook his head with a smile as he and Viktor jumped down behind the caravan, shouldering their weapons as they awaited the order to go. Despite his weapons, maybe this particular Stalker wouldn't be as bad as he hoped. This Oleg, on the other hand, he still had suspicions about.
As he heard a female voice, he couldnt help but give her the eye with a chauvinist little wink. Unfortunaly, by her tired scowl, she didn't seem interested. 'Not yet, anyway!' thought David, accepting the challenge.
"S-so...what's it like down there? I've-er...i've heard things." spoke Viktor with a slight stutter. "It's-eh...just stick with us, ok? Don't wander far and if you hear a sound, just keep walking" David replied quite factually as he glanced about, clearly not quite aware of Viktor's uncomfortableness.
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Post by danjaman on May 14, 2012 14:38:52 GMT -5
Wondering what was wrong with Viktor, who was usually quite level headed, he stepped out of the way of the cart. It wasn't as if the big guy hadn't been through these tunnels before... maybe he was making fun of the new guy.
"Don't worry Viktor, Aseni and myself will keep an extra eye on you. We won't let the tunnel trash get to you."
Arseni, who looked probably in his early twenties, shuffled resttlessly on his feet, maybe he hadn't slept much in passed days anticipating his first mission. He remained quiet, intending to stay close to the others. Sergei grabbed Arseni's arm to stop him shifting side to side, which was becoming a bit irritating, and tried to calm his nerves:
"Seriously, don't worry kid, in three days we'll be safe and dry back to Serpukhovskaja and get paid. Most of the stories floating around about these tunnels are probably bullshit anyway..."
That was a bit of a lie. Most of the stories were probably not too far from the truth, and three days was a generous estimate; but he wanted the new conscript to keep frosty and not lose his head before they had even left the ringline.
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Post by spartacus on May 14, 2012 16:44:49 GMT -5
David chuckled at the comment, putting on a pout.
"Hey, I thought you said the plan was to throw him at the mutants if they turn up to buy us time?" He shot Viktor a grin, laughing confidentally to himself, apparently not caring that Viktor didn't seem too impressed.
Shaking his head and pressing his hands against the card gently, he looked up to the boss, eagerly awaiting the call to get moving so he could get home and get drunk.
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Post by The Karcolith on May 15, 2012 2:00:39 GMT -5
Oleg kept quiet for most of the time they waited, eying each member of the group, his distrust in both himself and others made him uncomfortable, rubbing the numb, gloved left hand as he often did when wasn't sure what to do with himself. Simply nodding in a friendly manner to each person as they looked at him, or arrived.
He wasn't keen to introduce himself to the others in the group, seeing as they seemed to get along much better, and easily. Something he'd never been completely able to do, much to do with his own discomfort around people, and also the Reich's rigid laws.
"I'll help push." He offered, he was quite strong despite having withered away slightly since leaving the Reich. Rolling his shoulder's he braced himself against the cart and waited for the call to move off.
Looking to David who was beside also going to push, he asked "How much longer are we going to wait?"
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 15, 2012 5:29:12 GMT -5
"Yeah, I'm in the 'Up There' business", said Balalaika in answer to the soldier's question. She backed her answer up by indicating the ceiling with her finger.
Balalaika walked up to the side of the caravan and examined what it was carrying. Predictably enough for a caravan going to Sevastopolskaya, most of the crates she saw were stuffed with ammunition. Quickly losing interest in what they had to protect, Balalaika made a quick count of the men who'd signed up for the mission.
"One...two...three...four...", she murmured before nodding to herself. Seemed like a good number to cross Nagornaya. As she considered the sombre implications of not crossing Nagornaya with enough people, she suddenly remembered that her gun's magazines were still mostly empty. Nimbly she climbed up onto the railcar, sat down and started feeding bullets into her AKS-74U's magazines. Extracting five rounds from a pouch in her bag, she'd hold them between her teeth while she put them one by one into the old bakelite magazine with a soft clicking sound.
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Post by danjaman on May 15, 2012 8:02:03 GMT -5
The caravan master was muttering to himself, something about loose ends and bad omens as he approached, but time was passing and he really wanted to get the show on the road.
"All aboard!" He shouted to the dispatch office and came to organise the group.
He didn't want the new recruit Arseni taking point when they were on the open tracks, so the stretch between here and Tulskaja seemed sensible for his shift at the head of the caravan. This was the easy part of the journey, well maintained track more or less and the comfort of another friendly station ahead of them. Viktor left the cart and took Arseni out into the tunnels, they would stay about a dozen paces ahead and scout forward if ncessary.
IT seemed also a good idea that David was with the big Stalker guy, who was a bit too quiet for the leader's liking. Not that this was always a bad sign, but he wanted an eye kept on him until they could better guage his demenour and David was probably the most disciplined of the three regulars.
The woman seemed friendly enough, his instinct was that she'd be no trouble. Either way, two Stalkers weren't going to lose their heads in the tunnels if they were used to the streets of Moscow above.
"We only need two pushing that thing. Viktor, you and Aseni take point; Sergei and Balalaika take rear guard. Come on, no free rides..." He held a hand out to help the female stalker back down from the cart, with a smile so she could recognise he was only joking.
"Okay, guys, lets get moving now! We swap shifts in a half hour or so, maybe half way to Tulskaja.. keep your eyes pealed!"
Sergei could tell the leader was a bit concrned about the tall Staker pushing with David; but he was always overly cautious. Looked like he just wanted to get the job done and get paid. Seemed sensible. He returned a friendly nod to the man as he passed by:
"Welcome aboard big guy."
Sergei dropped back behind the caravan and let them make a few paces headstart and waved to the guards he knew near the checkpoint before he started walking down the centre of the tracks.
"Keep the kettle on, we'll be back in no time!" he called back as a parting gesture.
He could see Viktor and Arseni's flashlights come on and the beams dance around up ahead. He better not be freaking the kid out with stories already. Sergei remembered being a bit nervious on his first trip to foreign stations. His first had been a quick run to Kitai Gorod and back, but he'd been seven years in the watch before that and there were no mutants to speak of lurking around that part of the metro. This young Arseni guy looked like he was barely out of basic training. Maybe he's older than he looks.
After so many years not seeing, or at least knowingly, a Stalker, it was crazy to think that there were now two of them in his company. The trip was already showing promise. If they got to sample some hydroponicly grown vegetables at Sevastopol, could be that this would turn out the best trip he'd had so far. He switched his helmet light on and turned to the woman, trying not shine it into her eyes.
"Hey, I'm Sergei, what do I call you?"
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 15, 2012 9:15:54 GMT -5
"Sayonara, suckers", muttered Balalaika as the railcar trundled off into the tunnel. With two magazines filled up in a few minutes (she had a lot of practice in that domain), she put the final bullet in before slotting the polymer mag into her short rifle. She was now sitting next to a young man, whom she supposed was a soldier of the Hanse.
She didn't pay the young man much attention. Instead she simply strapped on her headlight and switched it on. Soon, the railcar was swallowed up by the darkness of the tunnel, with only the light coming from torches and lanterns to pierce the obscurity. The steady, squeaking trundle of the railcar was the only audible sound apart from the voices of people talking to each other. Balalaika didn't speak, keeping her attention on the task at hand. She wasn't here to chat anyway, just to earn money.
"Hey, I'm Sergei, what do I call you?"
Balalaika looked sideways at the young soldier. Yep, he'd just introduced himself and asked what her name was. Looked like she'd have to talk. Great.
"Uh, just call me Balalaika", she answered, her voice somewhat husky from all the drinking she indulged in. A rat scuttled across the tracks after the railcar had gone over them, and Balalaika watched it scamper off. For someone who knew the tunnels, rats were a good sign.
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Post by danjaman on May 15, 2012 10:26:59 GMT -5
Balalaika. He'd heard that name before somewhere, maybe at the campfrire with the Trotskyist, but he's thought they made a toast to the music or something at the time. He wondered if she knew of them; but it was a subject he didn't talk about when around his Hansa comrades.
He checked then that he'd remembered to bring his sidearm. Thankfully he must have picked it up on autopilot as he had hurredly left his bunk. He looked curiously at her weapon, then back at his own AK; the lighter frame of her AKS-U seemed somewhat appealing: it wasn't like they often had to fire at targets more than a hundred meters off anyway down here in the tunnels, so the reduced encumberance would be a bonus.
"You've been in these tunnels before, I guess; you don't seem phased by this shit. Good, you can help me look after Viktor there, he's the big guy up front with no sense of humour. I promised his mother I'd get him back safely."
She didn't really look like she wanted the conversation, but he didn't want to sit there in silence, and so persevered.
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Post by spartacus on May 15, 2012 12:09:31 GMT -5
David grunted as he pushed the cart along, his legs exerting all their strength against the immobile earth below him. He stared at his hands as he worked, thinking only of movement, blanking out all else for as long as he could. As they passed beyond the final checkpoint, the fires began to fade behind them as the trudged on toward the dreaded Nagornaya. He felt a number of rats scurry across his feet, wincing as he walked. He never liked rats.
"Damn vermin.." he muttered as the cart slid along the rails. He took this time to eye up Oleg a little closer, appreciating his effort to help but still somewhat wary. He found comfort in knowing that he would not have to see the Stalkers again after this. He never quite understood why people saw them as heroes. All they did was go to the surface and eventually get killed. How was that any different to staying in the tunnels and eventually getting killed? It was mere recklessness.
He grunted at his own though with a loud "Humph", keeping his eyes trained now on the tracks that slowly passed below his feet.
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