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Post by danjaman on May 15, 2012 12:47:10 GMT -5
Barely a hundred meters out, Vikor flashed his light on and off rapidly, in signal to someone a few hundred meters ahead, after a brief moment he must have had a reply and Sergei could just make out the faint flicker of lamps far off.
"A potrol is headed this way!" Viktor reported, his voice echoing back to them.
The older man who led the caravans was fully aware there would be a patrol about this time, but he had hoped to pass them half way to Tulskaja.
"You see this is why I have you on point Viktor, you're so perceptive!" He called back, if only to let them know that the message had been received.
"They're coming back from guard duty at Tulskaja, they would have had a rotation not long ago. Look, don't stop to chat with these guys okay, we are nealy quarter of an hour overdue already." Said the caravan leader over the squeek of the cart.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 15, 2012 13:36:45 GMT -5
OoC: just pointing out a small fact about the operation of railcars. Metro denizens wouldn't literally 'push' them, but would use a hand-cranking system that makes the wheels go round, like this.Balalaika tried hard not to look annoyed by the young man's questions. After all, being considered in a friendly manner by members of the team would be more advantageous for her than being considered like a cold, rude bitch. Besides, Sergei wasn't really pestering her in the way men usually did but was asking her about her experience with the tunnel they were currently travelling through. Due to the jammed blast gates in one of the abandoned stations on that line, Balalaika had (evidently) used the line to get to the surface. However, Balalaika had not enjoyed working for the stations along that line. Not because they didn't pay well, but because of one station: Nagornaya. To the inexperienced, Nagornaya was just an abandoned station. To those who'd been there, Nagornaya was a sinister and dangerous place. Balalaika had never witnessed any of the things people said happened there, but she'd definitely felt the atmosphere there. There were also no rats at Nagornaya. "Well...", she said, looking up at the ceiling, "I worked for Sevastopolskaya a few years back. A small job grabbing stuff at the surface, nothing important, but to get to the surface, we had to go through Nagornaya. That station...well, I don't know for sure, but something's just wrong about it. No rats, dead quiet...but the Sevastopolskayans kept talking about people disappearing there. I've heard the bullshit they tell to keep people from attacking them, but they're not telling lies about Nagornaya. They're scared of that place, and I can't say I liked going through that station either." Balalaika glanced furtively back at the others on the convoy, as if to make sure nobody was listening. "Don't tell 'em, though. They'd freak out. And don't tell 'em about Tchertanovskaya. Some people say it's cursed." She chuckled wryly. She didn't believe in curses and superstition, but she knew that some places were dangerous.
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Post by danjaman on May 15, 2012 15:53:08 GMT -5
OOC: I guess i was assuming the shipment was kinda compact and wouldn't need a proper railcar, but thinking about it, it would be heavy, so yeah we could carry on with it as a proper pump wagon without much problem.
Cursed. That would be one word for it, thought Sergei to himself. Whatever it was, no one went there anymore, it was open to deep underground tunnel sytsems full of things you didn't want to meet.
"I don't mind going through Nagornaja so much, as long as I have armed companions to watch my ass, but Nagatinskaja gives me the creeps..."
The thought of it made him shudder.
"I don't know about Tchertanovskaya; but Nagatinskaja feels haunted or something, like you are always watched from the darkness while you make your way through."
He'd never actually had any encounters there, unlike Nagornaja, where he and his patrol had had to take down a handful of surface creatures one time.
"Its not that I belive in ghosts or something. I mean they say its maybe solitary beasts or reclusive degenerates that sometimes go there, but either way, it has an unwholesome atmosphere. I don't like to feel threatened when theres nothing to shoot at, if you understand. Its probably all in my head, I know that."
The caravan leader tried to dispel the talk of what might be ahead, at least until after they were well passed Tulskaja.
"I've been leading these caravans for many years now and I've only seen a couple of mutants and a stray dog at Nagatinskaja." Said the old man. "Its Nagornaja where we have to really keep an eye out, I've seen trouble there a few times, but usuually nothing too serious. As for Tchertanovskaya... you'll hear enough of that when we reach Sevastopol. So lets lighten up the conversation okay guys?"
Sergei just shrugged, he didn't mind what they talked about really.
Without any more explanation of why he stops the talk about the stations the caravan leader starts a new topic of conversation which was apart from their current situation: "I know the Governor at Sevastopolskaja from way back, I guess you must have done whatever you were paid for, Balalaika, if you are returning there now... Maybe you or Oleg here can tell a story from the surface after we're past this patrol? I mean if you don't mind..."
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Post by spartacus on May 16, 2012 3:53:43 GMT -5
OOC - Got it, i'll keep in mind in future.
David's hands began to throb from the constant work of the hand-crank. He sighed, realising he needed something to keep his attention focused on and with conversation going on around him, what better way to keep distracted? Regrettably, however, all he had to talk too was Oleg. So bitterly he glanced up toward him and blurted out a short, curt question.
"So...you're a stalker?"
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Post by The Karcolith on May 16, 2012 8:07:40 GMT -5
"So...you're a stalker?" David asked, catching the Oleg off guard.
Readjusting his grip on the crank he took looked up.
"That I am." He said pausing, thinking up a story to avoid his actual past.
"I'm not entirely comfortable around crowds of people, not that the mutants are much for company either. It's just a sort of calling I guess, that and I was born before the war so seeing the city is... almost pleasant." He said, most of that was true but he wanted to elaborate a little more on the things he did.
"But as for actual survival and scavenging, it's a little less easy, but the pay is good and it allows you to see things that you wouldn't normally see. But taking jobs like this are an easy pay for a safer job."
"...maybe you or Oleg here can tell a story from the surface after we're past this patrol? I mean if you don't mind..." The leader said, a shiver went through Oleg, a lot of his experience on the surface had been when he served in the Reich.
Maybe if I talk about something when we fought off mutants, or exploring ruins? He thought.
"I'll see when we get there." Oleg said to the leader. Returning his glance to David.
"What's your story?"
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Post by danjaman on May 16, 2012 9:07:57 GMT -5
The laughter of the patrolmen, on their way to get drunk and catch up on sleep, reverberated through the tunnel. They were barely a hundred meters ahead and closing. The four of them outfitted as any usual guards you could find anywhere in Hansa territory. Their AKs were slung on their backs and they were swigging from a canteen being passed around, maybe some liquor they'd brought for the walk back.
"Clear the track you drunkards!" Called Viktor.
The group file to the right, to pass the caravan on its left side. "Okay Your Highness, it would be a shame to get run down so close to home." A plucky patrolman replied.
The caravan leader, signaled for David and Oleg to keep going and gave a modest salute to the patrol, before enquiring about the outpost: "Whats the word from Tulskaja?"
The patrol stopped about 5 meters ahead of them, as the caravan passed, one returning a salute. Another of the patrolmen, a tall guy with his helmet removed and a blue-purple bandana covering his shaved head, answered in an almost professional tone: "Not a pig to be seen at Tulsk', been quiet there, guess thats why they sent the heroes home, they don't need us today."
They burst into warm laughter again. Sergei thought maybe he saw one of them shoot a wink in Balalaikas direction as his helmet light illuminated their faces passing by next to them.
"Thanks, and to your good health guys." offered Sergei with a smile.
This is what Sergei liked about being on the open tracks, bumping into people all the time, and often those you didn't see in the same Tabaks as you usually visited. But it was the Sevastopolers he was really looking forward to see again: Frontier types, rough and ready, and they were always happy to see a caravan.
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Post by spartacus on May 16, 2012 12:09:17 GMT -5
David grunted a brutish "Humph" in reply to Oleg's tale as he continues his repative, aching motions, sliding the car along the tracks as he did so. He had never cared much for history or for progress. The simple life is all he dreamed of.
"Bah!" David said eventually after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence between the pair. "What is there of use up on the surface that we do not already have access to down here in the tunnels?"
He sighed, realisng he should reply to Oleg's fair enough question.
"I was raised along the Red Line during the war with the Hansa. I remember the words they pumped into our heads." he chuckles slightly as he put on a fake Communist tone of voice. "'All for one and one for all, my brothers! stand together comrades against the evil Reich!' Bah! We were no different from them...just as brutal, just as hateful...thankfully, during my first patrol within their little 'National Yotuh Service' expedition, I managed to slip away during a mutant attack. I got picked up by a caravan who were kind enough to secure me a passport provided I was on call for them whenever they required a guard. And here I am...nothing quite so...exciting as yours, I should think." David let out a deep exhale, using it to force his hand down a little stronger on the crank now. Thankfully his memories of the past were few and far between.
"I could really use some of that VDNKh Mushroom tea, boss...we got any?" he called back to the Leader who chuckled loudly as he responded.
"We have Mushrooms, David! But not for you. And anyway, we havn't had a caravan from VDNKh in a long-long time. People are starting to say their mushrooms have taken over the station!" The Caravan leader chuckled loudly to himself again at this as David merely smirked and glanced back up at Oleg, awaiting any reply.
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Post by The Karcolith on May 18, 2012 4:00:44 GMT -5
"There is still a lot of equipment, military and civilian that is of use to the people of the metro, maybe not to an individual, but say I find a batch of old, intact radios. It's guaranteed that someone can put them to good use." Oleg replied, finding himself defending the need to scavenge from the surface.
"After all, we were the dominant species before the war, now... we've sunk." Oleg said, lowering his voice to a mutter as he finished the sentence.
Nodding as he listened about David's upbringing, and commenting when finished.
"The Red's and the Reich both believe their own propaganda, but do any of the officers or the ones starting the propaganda fight?" Oleg said, a topic he'd had a lot of experience with, having both fought the Red Line and believing what the Reich had said. "Though I suspect the Reich will eventually be wiped out." He added.
On the comment of VDNKh tea, he kept quiet, strange phenomenons of plants taking over stations wouldn't have surprised him much.
"I've never had tea from VDNKh tea. I hear it's quite unlike any other tea in all the tunnels."
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Post by spartacus on May 18, 2012 7:31:59 GMT -5
David did his usual "Humph!" in response to most of what Oleg was saying, but eventually conceded the point with a nod. He had no wish for a long argument, he wasn't exactly the most articulate man in the Metro.
"They will kill eachother off eventually..." he said with a weary shake of his head. He raised his brows in surprise though when Oleg admitted to not having tried tea from the famed station.
"Ah, VDNKh tea is wonderful! Like all tea, it is bitter at first, but their's is far far less so. It is even somewhat enjoyable! No one's quite sure how they do it, but the Hanse has been trying to buy their secret for as long as they've been growing mushrooms!" David chuckled, glancing over Oleg's shoulder to the tunnel ahead after, licking his lips as he eyed the first flicker of light. They must be approaching Tulskaya, he reasoned.
"Boss," David called out quickly, "Are we stopping or going straight through?"
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Post by quandry on May 18, 2012 12:34:32 GMT -5
Darkness swirled up and swallowed the light. Three bandits trotted out from a hole in the wall, into unknown territory. They knew here that there wouldn’t be any of their allies, traveling far from their hideout. “Looks, looks! Vlacheslav, let us leave! Please!” “Listen, Marmeladov, it called commitment. Just a man.” “Look, you see the patrol so far away? They leave Tulskaya unguarded, we can bring loot to boss, women, uh! — ammo—who cares about the American?” A third voice arose from behind them, Afon, “The boss does. You say you want be professional for boss, yes? This be initiation.” His voice sparkled with a splatter of fright, “But Afon—Vlacheslav, come on! Vlacheslav!” “Listen, here your options Marmeladov: one, you stay here, watch us kill man and reap reward. Two, you run back to boss and have nuts cut off. Three, I cut off nuts right now and use you for bait—Friggin’ American probably cannibal too.” “Afon—Afon, please, talk sense to Vlacheslav! Afon!” There was silence, “Afon! Afon?” Scurried, the initiate looked back and froze. His comrades feet tapped against Marmeladov’s face, body suspended from the ceiling by a coarse rope. Dilating eyes blurred into a frenzy-filled fear of degradation, screaming his lungs as if he had all the air in the world. “AAHHH!! VLACHESLAV, VLACHESLAV— OH, NO! no, no, no. . . Afon—Afon the Immortal! Vlachesla-a—” The more experienced soldier clasped his hand over Marmeladov’s mouth, “ Shut up, Shut up! He’s here— He’s HERE!” Only the creak of the deadman’s noose was present; not a rat scurried. A sudden aura of fear flooded the two, washing them in a dreadful tsunami of utter terror. Suddenly, the least experienced freaked; pushing his revolver into his own mouth; Vlacheslav quickly smacked it out of his hand. “Get a hold of self! Look at me, Marmeladov, look at me—” Debris fell from the ceiling. Both instantly, in pure fright, screamed as loud as they could, opening fire on the metro and into the darkness. Bullets panged off of sewers, dug into concrete. It wasn’t long until only the click of their machineguns was heard. The smoke rose from the tips of their rifle, evaporating their tension, confident that they've scared their target away. “Cut Afon down, Marmeladov. . .We’ll have to bring ba-a-a—” Afon’s noose suddenly fell at the sound of a gunshot, both men instantly looked away while Curtis jolted from the shadows. A rope wired around the two, and then suddenly squeezed; both were instantly bound. A silhouette ran around them in circles, further entangling their bodies together. Their already sore throats began to throb in pain, now squealing and sobbing, “ AAAHH!! AAAHHH!! AEEIII!!” With a wide-brimmed hat, the figure appeared finishing the knot, “Quiet up,” Curtis said, “Still got rope.” Vlacheslav tried to pull his combat knife to untie himself, but a spark of fire flickered off the tracks; the lean figure pulled the knife from the bandit in vice and threw it to the side. The smoke from the end of Curtis’ revolver was blown into Vlacheslav’s face, “Not quick enough.” “You think you can barge in here, just take us hostage? Huh, Gung-ho? Who do you think you are?” Curtis scratched his scruff, waiting until there was silence. “Well. I’m the American. And no, I didn’t just barge in. Psychological warfare, Sun Tzu stuff—basics, you know? Besides, it was your own fault. . .Look at the piping patterns here—” He pointed out the cascading pattern, “Too easy to climb. That’s how I got your friend in a bind—No one covered your back, either." An air of near calmness preceded, He paused once more, before adding “And that Sun Tzu, I found an edition in Chinese—even more lucky enough to find a friend who could translate it for me, you know, pardner? I’d get you a copy if I wasn’t planning on killing you two.” Immediately, Marmeladov pleaded and begged, “Let us go! Please, we’ll do anything, our money! I’ll—I’ll make sure we straighten this out! We can just leave, l-like you never came! Oh, let us go! I’ll even let you rough me up, have fun—Just let me live! Let me live!” Curtis slapped his hand against the younger mans mouth. “Shh. First off, if I kill you. . .I get your money. Second off, if I kill you, I don’t have to worry about you killing me later when you have more friends. Third off, you got me thinking, maybe necrophilia wont be half bad.” “You’re sick, you know that stalker, your sick!” yelped Vlacheslav, in which Curtis paused, letting the echo of the mans words simply ring through the tunnel. “You know,” Started Curtis, “I never fancied callin’ myself a stalker. Not to say I ain’t, I certainly deserve. You see, it’s a title you got to earn, really. Jus’ being on the surface and grabbing a few things here and there doesn’t make you one, I reckon. You can't just be insane enough to go to the surface. . .You gotta be insane enough to respect and love it.” " Please! Please!" A sheepish smile crawled to his lips, "But you were right about one thing. I'm just a man, like you-- equal. I just ran into a bunch of luck. . . or maybe I just took it all from you." “Sick! You’re sick! Like Nazi scum, you—” Immediately at the mention of the 4th Reich, Curtis pulled his revolver and shot four times, a bullet for each knee. He grabbed Vlacheslav’s shirt and pulled him towards his face, “You call me Nazi again and—” “ AAHH! FUCK! Nazi scum! Nazi stalker scum!” Curtis rummaged through their belts and felt for a wick. He was nearly startled when he heard a wagon off in the distance. Shrugging this off, he reached into his back pocket and lit match. “What are you doing? Stop that!” “Please, oh, stop! No! Let us free!” The sizzle of the wick sounded, “You know, when your boss told me that I was kickin’ the hornets nest, I admit, I reckon I was a bit scared . . .” He patted him on the shoulder, “Guess it’s just sign of the times.” Curtis ran, ran for the life of him, down the opposite direction of the wagon or the patrols while the sound of thunder rolled.
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Post by danjaman on May 18, 2012 12:39:16 GMT -5
OoC: Holy shit, quandry! Crazy post, where are you guys, infront or behind the caravan? You see the patrol we just passed? Or a different one? I just wanna know if we hear the rifle shots or not..
The laughter of the patrol faded behind them and they were well on their way to Tulskaja, just a few hundred meters more and they would see the nothernmost checkpoint.
"We should stop briefly, get news of the tunnels ahead," replied the caravan leader. "But that doesn't mean checking if the bar is open... we're still on duty remember." He looked at Sergei and then to Viktor in particular.
"Okay, if you say so." Answered Viktor, feigning a slight on his character.
Sergei brushed the comment off, the thought hadn't really crossed his mind; he'd drank enough last night to put him off the thought of alcohol for a good while. He carried on with the conversation that had been going on just before:
"I think the struggle between Reich and the Reds will probably go on and on forever, they're in a state of deadlock pretty much... but what I don't understand is why we let the fascists harass the smaller stations... even places like Kitai Gorod, I know they're not part of Hansa, but..." He hesitated a second. "I mean they cause alsorts of trouble beyond their borders is all..."
This was one reason why Sergei admired the Revolutionary Brigade, at least they tried to stop these incursions, and kept the bastards on their toes. It was really the reds who were the contained faction; which of course Sergei appreciated was to most peoples minds, including his own, a good thing.
"Well," started the leader again, "I fought in the war against the reds, I can't say I will ever forgive the atrocities of that time... I guess its best that they are both locked in their own struggle, allows the rest of the metro to get on with living their lives."
The thought of the war seemed to make the old man sombre and he tried now to change the subject:
"But anyway, I guess I'm mellowing in my old age: It would be good to see peace in the Metro for a while. Hey, how about a story from the surface then before we get to Tulskaja?"
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 18, 2012 16:49:18 GMT -5
Balalaika softly banged the back of her foot against her seat, listening to what was being said. Her attention was immediately caught when the others started talking about the Red Line. After all, it was in Kropotkinskaya that she had grown up, alone and starving, until the Communists had taken power. After that, she'd thrown her lot in with the Reds, working with their secret police and arresting suspected traitors and dissenters...she didn't want that part of her life to come to light.
When the caravan's commander asked the two stalkers present in the convoy if they had any stories about the surface, Balalaika's mind quickly got working. She'd seen and done many things, but what could she tell her companions? In the end, she settled for a story dating from her days working for the Reds.
"Well I have a story", she said, speaking over the squeaking of the wheels and the steady pumping of the crank, "a few years ago, I took up a job for the Red Line. They wanted me to guide a battalion of communist raiders across the surface, so they could capture a large shipment of weapons that the Nazis had stored in an old apartment block.
"So I did. Loaded down with grenades, ammunition, weapons, armour and gas masks, we left the Red Line and travelled through the city as quickly and as discreetly as possible. They didn't want to waste ammo on mutants, so I had to take a lot of precautions. In the end, though, we reached our target, but we'd lost one man to demons on our way there, so the Reds asked me to participate in the raid in exchange of more bullets.
"And I did. I was with the first man to enter the building. We sneaked up to a ground floor window while the others hid in the ruins around us, and we took out the Nazi guards in the room with our spear guns. With that done, we helped the raiders enter the building without being spotted by the enemy, and we attacked them from inside. They were taken completely by surprise, but as they say 'a cornered animal is a dangerous animal', so they fought like rabid dogs.
"It was close quarters then. Spades, knives, clubs made with a bit of wood and concrete...it was brutal. Everyone trying to rip everyone's gas mask off, skulls being smashed, people getting stabbed. It was hell, and it's a miracle we didn't attract any mutants. In the end, we won. Killed off the last Nazis who'd barricaded themselves in an apartment and we grabbed the weapons we'd come to get. When we got back to the Red Line, I was awarded the Order of the Red Banner."
Balalaika nodded to herself and smiled. She still had the medal, deep inside her rucksack, although her role in the raid she'd described had been very different in reality...
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Post by spartacus on May 18, 2012 17:59:21 GMT -5
David nodded a few times to himself as Balalaika's story came to a close, grinning slightly after. "They do have a thing for their shiny commendations, don't they?" he chuckled. Taking the oppertunity to glance up over Oleg's shoulders again, they were approaching a checkpoint, however something was wrong. The guards at the barricades were extremely tense, rushing back and forth. Clearly something had startled them.
"Er-boss..." he spoke, licking his lips as he stroked his shotgun's handle breifly before returning the hand to the crank, slowing down ever-so-slightly. He could see from the Caravan Leader's body language, he had picked up on the change in atmosphere too. David let out out a shudder, mumbling under his breath... "I knew it....stalkers only bring trouble, we're not even past the Hansa yet..."
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Post by danjaman on May 18, 2012 19:21:31 GMT -5
The rest of the Hansa guys listened curiously to the story. It like something out of a fairy tale to them. None of them, even the caravan leader, had been to the surface. It was as alien to them as deep sea diving.
"Wow, I never met someone with a medal before," exclaimed Viktor. "Hey boss, why don't we get Hansa silverware?"
Sergei burst into laughter, "You mean after all your hard work they didn't recognise you, Viktor?!" Silver and gold didn't impress Sergei much, but, the valour required to receive such an award was a status symbol in itself, and he respected that. "When we get back I'll start a petition for you Viktor, if only you go fetch some fancy paper from the surface first, for all the signatures..."
The caravan leader, dispite his time in the war fighting for the anti communist coalition, couldn't help but admire the acheivement also. And he loved to hear the stories from beyond the metro:
"Thats quite a thing to be involved in Balalaika. You must be tougher than you look, if you dn't mind my saying so..." He seemed almost embarrassed by that remark: although he had seen the courage of women on many occasions, and that hadn't been his meaning, he realised how what he just said must have come across. He was in no doubt about the ferocity the reds were capable of in battle, he'd witnessed it first hand; surviving a few up close encounters himself during that time. "Well, we needent worry about you too much if we run into trouble" He smiled.
After some, not so awkward silence, Segei noticed the mood ofthe caravan leader was becoming more sour, he wondered if he took offence at traveling with someone who had been allied to the reds at one time.
"Something wrong?" said Sergei, standing up in the cart and looking in the same direction as the caravan leaders distant stare.
"Thought I heard something..." Answered the leader, not turning to look at his companion.
"are there any other patrols do you think?" Sergei said. It was unlikely, they were nearing the northerly outpost, and they would have seen lights if it was another Hansa detatchment between them and the watchfires. The only light that could be seen, was very faint in that direction, and the caravan leader knew it to be the outpost.
Viktor and Arseni had their weapons readied up front and were scanning around for signs of movement. The mood in the air had changed quickly and the tense atmosphere was pressing down on the caravan like the heaviness before a sudden downpoor. David's words brought the leader to his feet as they neared the checkpoint. It looked like something was amiss.
"Shall we stop?" Asked Viktor, in an uncertain tone, clearly he couldn't see anything up ahead in the darkness of the tunnel.
"Lets keep going." Asserted the leader firmly, "we're nearly home", a term he often used for any friendly station, including Sevastopol, "...and if its a problem at the outpost... maybe they'll need our help. Keep your eyes peeled and check every crevace and hatchway..." He started mumbling to himself again about loose ends, but seemd to be very concentrated on their immediate surroundings, as if looking for secret ways into the tunnel he'd missed on all his previous expaditions. Few in these times knew these tunnels as well as he did. He knew there were a number of small access ways, and at least one still ahead of them; it may have been a long time quiet, but bandits had used those access routs in the past to reach the this line.
Sergei, half turned to the rear, with kalashnikov in hand, listening intently for the sound of foot steps over the noise of the cart. He figured anyone following would have to be running quite hard to catch them and his instinct told him thet trouble, if any, lay ahead of them.
They trundled on edging closer to the light of the outpost and it became clear that the watch were moving around in search paterns.
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Post by quandry on May 19, 2012 0:19:57 GMT -5
(This was infront of you. You should be nearing it in the next few posts, or, well, the next post. How would Curtis hear a railcar coming if it was moving away from him? Don’t answer that.) Like the most tremulous storm, the two bound men warped into a helix of twisted hatred and flesh. The bullets they had on them exploded, as well as any other grenades, which added further to the shrapnel of it all. Blood soaked the metallic tunnel; veins spattered across wires, organs of all sorts impaled upon rail spikes and debris, distorted and bloody skin caking against the wall of the subway. At the blast area, the tracks were off put; it was simply a black scorch against the ground of both gunpowder and concentrated blood. Drips of blood splattered against the floor, *Platt* *Platt* *Platt* and it wasn’t long—infact, it was remarkably quick— until rats and insects of all kinds began to feast on their remains. The dry hum of rodents feasting on the human remains was paired with a deathly horrible smell, secreting the scent of dead mass from all directions. - - - - - - - Curtis stopped. He could hear patrols coming by—station patrols who might rightfully frame him for such a crime. In an instant, he slumped to the side, appeared half asleep and pulled a porno and a cigarette. A green brigade of recruits, led by an experienced militiaman, steadily stopped at the sight of him; all nine pointed their kalashnikov’s at the stalker. “Freeze!” But Curtis flipped a page, “You know,” he said, “These girls are about as old as my mother when I was born, you ever think of tha—” “I said freeze!” Curtis froze—why not? The leader of the group brusquely explained, “We have heard explosions—you are the only one so far. We will have to put you in custody—” “Woah, hold your horses now. If you want to catch up to the man who made that explosion, I have my money on that neo-nazi scum who ran down that way,” He pointed down the tunnel, “Regular stalker wannabe, yelled something about the Fuhrur or whatever they call it. I’m telling ya’, you better catch up before they really sabotage this place.” His fabricated lie seemed to work, so he added “I was meaning to end the yellow scum myself, but I figured it was more trouble than it was worth. You see, I’m not one for trouble.” But suspicion had still remained in the air, “You come with us. . .” So he did, all the way to Tulskaja.
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