|
Post by spartacus on May 19, 2012 9:07:31 GMT -5
Radek had his hands against the wall of Tuskaya station next to a line of 4 others, quickly being patted down for recently fired weapons. The patrols were on high alert due to nearby explosions and gunshots and now everyone was a suspect. Radek remained calm, keeping himself quiet as he was accumstomed while being searched. After they had gathered all the weapons, he was flung about to face the snarling Hansa Guard who held up a shiny new revolver, the end of the barrel matted in powder showing it to have been recently fired.
"Is this yours?" he growled, raising both brows. Radek couldn't help but admire the handiwork of the weapon that was not his own, realising that they had probably fired the gun themselves and was merely looking for someone to admit to owning such a valuable item so they could punish him. After all, if they let the gunshots go on without a punishent to someone, it would make the Hansa guards look incompetent. Radek shook his head wearily, frowning as he stared his blue eyes towrd the guard's. The guard grunted, shoving Radek off the wall and moved on up the line, repeating the question.
Radek walked the station once again at a sombre pace, thinking of how he could get to Sevastopolskaya safely. He surely could not walk alone. Despite his training, he would be no match for a gang of bandits if they got the jump on him. He needed a caravan that would take him on board, but there was none at the station, the only caravan leaving was heading north. He continued plodding up the station, coming out against the south-bound line once again as he shifted his gaze up and down. The Reich would need to know Sevastopolskaya's military capabilities in detail if they were ever to have hopes of aqquiring the electricity for the Fuhrer. Everyone in the Metro had heard of the station's staunch defence and bitterly experienced guardsman, but only those who had been could ever testify the truth. And so, not trusting hearsay, Radek needed to go.
His passport had taken him through the Hansa a week ago safely. He trusted the Reich's forgers entirely, but could not help feel nervous as he approached the Hansa' line from the Reich's direction. Surely they would notice a young, Aryan man from the Reich would not have been able to procure a passport so easily? But he was not questioned, and any fear was cast aside when he entered the glistening Hansa ring line.
Radek shifted his weight between his feet, gazing up the line, then down the line, then up the line again, licking his lips in anticipation of anything that could help him. A black-haired Hansa citizen brushed past him as he waited, and Radek clutched the hilt of the Makarov at his wasit tightly. He was still unaccumstomed to having to deal with the impure socially. Hiding his views was only difficult when he had to speak and as such, he kept his sentances short and to the point so as not to trip over himself. As he gazed up the line, eyeing the gate toward the Ring Line, he noticed the guards were organised now, gazing ahead curiously. As he approached with his head cocked in interest, he overheard a conversation between the gatesmen.
"-Caravan from Serpukhovskaya!" "Why is it heading this way? We got a carvan through here a few days ago, we have no need of supplies?" "It's not FOR us, Smehilik, it's heading to Sevastapolskaya"[/b][/color]
What luck, thought Radek with an efficient nod to himself.
David gulped slightly, shaking his head. "Something must have really spooked the Hansa boys to get the guards riled like that..." he said as he slowed the cranking so that they were approaching at a jogging pace. He hoped that whatever was wrong, it would not affect their journey too much.
|
|
|
Post by quandry on May 20, 2012 1:09:19 GMT -5
"Will you tell me the truth, or will you just sit there thinking you can worm your way out of this one?" Curtis pulled his revolver and presented the empty cartridges. "Didn't do it. No ammo. . .My wallet is as desolate as Polyanka, on a weekday at that, and I don't like carrying around garbage rounds." He added, "Besides, I told you. Neo-nazi, probably just blew himself up trying to impress a girl. Probably blew her up too." Two men in a bleak office, a dim light emitting from a blinking bulb above them. The officer, who adorned the Hanseatic seal quite obviously, commanded again, "Listen, if you don't tell me you did. . ." Curtis took off his widebrimmed hat and placed it on the desk, waiting for the Russian to finish his sentance. " . . .Then I'll lose my bet to Gugal! Come on, it was fifty bullets-- give me break! You know all going to do is give slap on wrist, yes?" Rubbing his scruff, the American leaned back in his chair, smiling, "Gugal, huh? Well, in that case, bring him in and I'll tell him I did it. Boom, you got fifty-- Deny it to the public. I already got the word out that a 'Nazi' has been coming around, trying to sabotoge you all. Now, that's not to say it's not true-- but well, we both know what really happened." Both men laughed, "I don't even want know, American! Haha!" A decrescendo into a softer voice permitted, and Curtis reimbursed the Russian, "Tell you what. Get me on the next cart in here, let me just get out of here. Then do whatever the hell you want with my 'good name'. I just need to leave. You might have a lot of bandits coming your way, but they wont even bother if they know I'm not here." He paused, before adding, "They'll probably be sending civilian scouts to check the place out. I'm here, well, they'll be here too." The officer nodded, and then, briefly, thought about how ironic that shady business, in this case, actually led to a smarter decision. If they detained him, surely the bandits would attack-- no question. But by letting Curtis go, he cuts down the chances. "Well, Curtis, you are in luck. . ." The officer looked down a list, "A caravan from Serpukhovskaya is heading to Sevastapolskaya." "So, it's headed to the same place?" "No, no-- What? No. Serpukhovskaya to Sevastapolskaya." "Right, from Sassafras-skaya to sassafras-skaya. Whatever. When is it getting here?" "We've got five minutes, I think. More or less. Not enough time for a drink-- That reminds me-- Gugal! Get in here!" A smartly uniformed soldier instantly rushed into the room, eager to point his firearm at the guest. "Freeze, American!" He looked to the stalker, and then to his captain, who looked askance at him. Quickly, his rifle snapped back into ornate position. "Sir!" "Gugal, hear the man." They both looked at Curtis, "Yeah, I did it. I also made love with their bodies and ate a little bit. That's why it's all burnt-- I like my human well done. Sorry about the mess though, I just got ahead of myself-- never was a fan of cleaning my plate." His words were so disgusting to Gugal, he would've freaked had his officer not started laughing hysterically. "Oh, Curtis! Well, as punishment, leave the station and when you come back, you bring me souvineer! Ah, haha! You must be going, I have business-- Ah, Gugal, a bet is a bet! Come, take his place!" Curtis got up, and nodded-- and nearly bowed-- at the officer, gesturing respect with his whole body. With that, he left and closed the door behind him. The officer instantly rushed towards Gugal, and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Listen, Gugal-- Listen to me very closely. I know you are upset--" "He's A FUCKING MURDERER! A psychopath, insane, delirious! You are CORRUPT!" "Gugal, listen. Listen to ME. Learn something for once!" "What, that allowing criminals to roam free is okay?" "No, Gugal! That the man actually DID eat their fucking bodies, that he probably bathed in their blood and satisfied himself with the veins of his enemies hearts-- Stalkers, especially him, are insane, do you hear me-- INSANE!" "And he is out there now, with our wives, our children--" "Gugal, Gugal! The stalker doesn't want them. They are weak, pathetic even-- he wants us. Men who dare against him. Men who defy his call, and challenge him. If you are below him, you are not worth his time-- If you are equal to him, like I, then you laugh with him and live-- but if you put self above him, well, look at what happened when multiple men did! We do not even know how many men were there. It could've been a two, six, a dozen! There is so much blood and gore strewn everywhere, we do not know. But I know that I am alive. And you are alive. Gugal-- Gugal, we must be greatful. He is going away. He is leaving. And when he comes back, he comes back in peace-- with capital and service! Gugal--" "No! No, this isn't right--" "Gugal, listen, we can be on stalker good side and benefit from capital, or we can have bloodbath. Did you hear gossip about neo-nazi doing this?" The guard paused, before admitting, "Yes. It is base though. I don't believe it." "Well, believe it. It is not definate, but it is currently our official suspcion--" "You are going to officially lie?" "A tighter seal against the Nazi's has always been something we've been looking forward to. Arousing a bit of paranoia concerning them can do us all some good." "I hope you're right about this. Lets just hope high command eats up your little white lie." - - - - - - - Curtis casually strolled out of the office, and immediately headed towards the tracks. A soldier escorted him towards a clerk, who gave him official papers to board the next cart, which was more than Curtis could wish for. Nonchalantly, he pulled two documents from his coat: Top Secret: Operation HOUND
The Soviet Mil Mi-24: A manual to repair and command Fearing suspcion, he shoved them safely back into his coat and waited by the sidelines, watching into the darkness as it stared back.
|
|
|
Post by spartacus on May 20, 2012 5:07:14 GMT -5
Radek pulled his trenchcoat together to cover his Kevlar vest. He would not get in trouble for wearing it since everyone had some form of armour, but what with the agitated atmosphere he did not want to stand out in any way and so also pulled the hood down, concealing more of his brow as his head remained downturned. He waited by the tracks and listened, barely aware of another two men approaching the same tracks, staring into the same direction. He thought nothing of it at first.
But then once again the atmosphere changed. guards buzzed to and fro and as he stood a clear order could be heard echoing from the main platform behind him.
"Ok Hansa soldiers, listen up! We found a gory scene down in the maintenence tunnels and we know who did it. There is a nazi around the station somewhere who has infiltrated our borders. Look out for anyone acting suspciously and bring them to me! Do NOT get caught alone with him!"
The hairs on Radek's neck immediately stood on end. Was it him they're after? But he hadn't killed anyone on the station, in fact the last conflict he had had was at a bar fight in Kitai-Gorod. He surely would have been informed if anyone from the Reich was headed his way so that left two possibilities.
1 - Their was a group of nazi sympathisers at the station that Radek would have to take advantage of, possibly recruit. Although unfortunately due to the commotion, they don't appear to be too experienced. Or 2 - Someone high up has created an obvious scapegoat. It is a shame, Radek thought, that the people of the Metro demonised the Reich so much when it is they who would bring propsperity, purity and peace to the metro.
Radek lifted his gaze, sensing a stare upon his back as he twisted around, directing his blue-eyed gaze directly into the eyes of strange Stalker standing next to a nervous looking Hansa soldier. This stare lasted a few seconds and he refused to give in to the instinctive urge to back away. He saw little fear in the Stalkers eyes, his kit clearly far more expensive and in far better condition than Radek's own. What he did see, however, was a twitch. A tiny, barely noticable trait hidden deep within the eye itself that proved it had seen things no mortal man should see. And for the first time in many years, Radek felt genuinly afraid. His gaze broke off swiftly, turning back up the tunnel as he shuddered out an exhale, wishing the caravan would arrive.
|
|
|
Post by quandry on May 20, 2012 14:58:18 GMT -5
The guard beside Curtis nearly stirred, effercessing fear at only a look at the man. And it wasn't normal at all. Lots of guards have seen more than their fair share of action. The tracks remained staid.
Curtis pulled his revolver out and solemnly-- without looking at it-- bounced it around, spinning it and juggling it idly. He did it in such a way that it appeared that, besides his hands and arms, nothing else moved. With a final spin, he holstered his gun and looked towards the guard.
"Ever make love on the surface?"
The guard, now completely baffled at his obscure question was nearly left speechless, but he managed to respond, "No-- No, of course not."
"Well, you're missing out. If it's fresh, some bugs might've made it's way into it, makes a nice crunchy sound when you're doing your business. Don't get me wrong, if'n you can't find anyone right away, than there is usually some rookie kid who forgot to wear a gasmask or a yellow belly looking for too much adventure. With their bodies all frozen, it really makes you feel like you have a purpose; and really tests your abilities in the sack, huh? I remember this one time, I thawed out a mans whole nether region by jus--"
Sickened by the stalker, the guard twisted away and powerwalked without looking back. Curtis simply shrugged, looking back at the railroad tracks, and then to Radek. But at that, he just looked at the man while he looked away. He wondered if his story caught the young mans attention, or even if he realized Curtis' existence. Pushing to find out, he inquired,
"Do you really think I did any of that, kid, now do ya'?"
|
|
|
Post by spartacus on May 20, 2012 15:15:16 GMT -5
Radek blinked as the Stalker called out toward him and reluctantly shifted his gaze to return Curtis'. He shifted his weight to his left foot and twisted his body to follow his sight. He spoke quickly and bluntly as he was used to.
"Do what?" He was aware of a commotion and of gunshots, but little else, of course. Although he winced at being coined "Kid". No one had ever called him that. Only the weak were called children past the age of 14, and now, at age 19 and a part of the Reich's Covert Special Forces, being called Kid was almost an insult if not for the obvious cultural inferiority of the stations outside of the Reich.
The man had a curious accent, he did not know where it was from.
|
|
|
Post by The Karcolith on May 20, 2012 22:33:00 GMT -5
Listening quietly as they continued Oleg could smell a strange smell as they rolled forward, they all could for that matter. He couldn't describe it but it certainly wasn't a natural smell, death clung to it.
A cry of surprise from the men at the front of the convoy startled everyone.
"I wonder what it was?" Oleg muttered half aloud to the others and half to himself. Soon enough his question was answered, the area literally completely painted in what looked like blood and other gore, as well as extreme charring on the ground. All while a horde of rats scavenged for whatever remaining parts of... however many people it had been, Oleg couldn't tell if it was one person or ten.
"What in the world?" Oleg said stunned by the scene, looking to the others on the cart, "I've seen some violent deaths in my time, but this... this is..." He trailed off unsure what to say, it didn't seem natural
|
|
|
Post by quandry on May 21, 2012 0:47:03 GMT -5
"Koldan, there are Hansa guard there. . ."The young man with the hockey mask whispered, bracing his dirty machine gun to his bare chest. The much larger, bear-like man looked down and pushed him aside, "Let me see for myself."- - - - - - - The guards in the blast area seemed to be circulating, to make sure all recruits were sent back and that only veterans were present to witness, and guard the area. They occasionally shot at rats, prayed, and vomitted profusely. Some seemed lost in thought at the pure brutality of the event. While disoriented by the trauma of the scene, they were not entirely pensive; it looked to each one that they still retained discipline and remained protective. - - - - - - - "Holy fucking shit," Whispered one bandit, peeking through a crevice, "That's a lot of fucking blood.""It wasn't done by Hansa. They don't do stuff like that. Even if they did, they wouldn't look like they do know. They'd clean it up and celebrate, or greet that cart."The idea of raiding the cart, now that it was mentioned, sprung in almost all of the bandits heads, but given the circumstances, they all seemed to reject the idea and it was never mentioned out loud. The biggest man said quietly, this time with pitch in his breath, "I know what happened. We're going out there, no guns." "But Koldan--" Ignoring the initiates plead, the bear-like man stepped from the crevice, away from the shadows, and a lanky pair of six others-- all much skinnier and obviously bandits, some adorning hockey masks and skulls-- all with their rifles unloaded and hanging from straps. Immediately the Hanseatic guards aimed their rifles at the group, but startled as they were, they did not fire. "Hold, hold all of you!" The commander walked forward, his combat boots inevitably platting against the caking blood, no longer like liquid but rather like mud. "Who are you? Are you responsible for this?" What else could the commander say? It seemed appropriate for the time. They were going to bring them all back to the station anyway for intense interrogation. The big bear, Koldan, took a moment to think before one of his men went astray, leaning down to touch a severed head that still had a noose tied around the neck, "Oh, no. . .no, Afon. . ." Koldan raised his hands in surrender, "We are from Kitai-Gorod, that's about all that matters. You must hear us, this was not our doing-- infact, it was our men--" He was cut off by the grieving of one bandit, hugging the severed head to his chest, "Afon, the immortal. . . Afon!" Ignoring his cries, Koldan went on, "After finding out that our leader was an ex-Nazi, he nearly assassinated him and stole critical docum--" "Afon, oh why! Not like this!" "If you think this is bad, this-- this is nothing. He has information which, if utilized, could break the bonds of society as we kn--" The guards were already weary, and the sobs from the bandit were growing louder, "Oh, Afon! Afon, it should've been me. . .I'm so sorry. . ." "Stop FUCKING CRYING!" Finally Koldan yelled, escalating tension by a mile. The younger man, sobbing as he was, shrieked in a startled frenzy and squealed as loud as he could before taking out his revolver and shooting at his head. The first few shots disassembled his jaw, cheek, nose and ears before finally spewing gray matter through a hole in his head, " AAHHHHH!! AEIII!!""FUCKING FIRE! FIRE! JUST KILL THEM ALL!" The guards pulled their triggers and emptied their weapons, as if they were orgasming in a painful hate-filled killing spree; the bandits bodies convulsed as they were pierced with lead; a grenade was thrown and the explosion made a doubled bloody mess. Apparently, as well, it seemed to be a signal; bandits jumped from crevices and fired at the guards. "AAAHH!!" "FUCKING DIE, GAHH!" "My legs! Oh, no, NO! My legs!" "Jesus fucking Christ!" "MOTHER FUCKER!" "Please, no! Not today, not today!" "I'm so sorry! Oh God, I'm so sorry!" "I'll fucking suspend your throat from the ceiling!" "OH SHIT! OH SHIT, SHIT!" A group of unarmed soldiers quickly ran behind the cart and began pushing at it, "Go, go go! Get them through, get them through now!" - - - - - - - Curtis didn't care to resurge the topic. Instead, he just looked down the shadows, now hearing gunfire. "I said," he cleared his throat, "Ain't that just the sign of the time, chief? Ain't it just the sign of the time." He pushed a cigarette into his mouth, his question clearly rhetorical. "You smoke, pardner?" was followed by the swish of a lit match, immediately applied to the end of the stick.
|
|
|
Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 21, 2012 2:58:34 GMT -5
Getting into Tulskaya had never been too hard for someone with a passport, but today things seemed altogether different. Sure, there was the whole checkpoint business where the guard patting down Balalaika would most likely cop a feel while "searching for unauthorised weaponry", but that was normal. Today nothing was normal. Today, the Goddess of Strange Events had brutally wrestled the God of Normality to the ground before violently having Her way with Him.
Sitting at the back of the caravan and lacking the height to see over the piled up goods, Balalaika had been unable to see what was going on. She'd briefly considered climbing up on the crates to have a good look at what the people out front were searing and "oo'ing" and "aah'ing" at, but had dropped the idea. So when everything turned sour and gunshots echoed loudly through the stale air of the tunnel, Balalaika still didn't have the faintest idea of what was going on.
"T'voyu mat!", she cursed, looking around her for something, anything to shoot at. But just as she was about to descend from the railcar and bring her "considerate thoughts" to the enemy, several unarmed soldiers of the Hanse intervened to give the caravan a push.
"What the bloody fuck is going on here?", she yelled aggressively, "why in fuck is nobody working on the cranks? Why the fuck are we being shot at?! FUCK!"
Tired of the confusion and all the shooting, Balalaika went to the side of the railcar, leaned out and started shooting with her AKS-74U.
"I don't know who the fuck you are, you sons of bitches, but nobody, NOBODY ever gets between Balalaika and her money!"
OoC: Thank God for Lazarus. My comp died just as I clicked the 'post' button, but Lazarus saved it all.
|
|
|
Post by spartacus on May 21, 2012 11:35:28 GMT -5
"Suki!" David yelled as he jumped back to the Crank, pushing on it furiously, yelling to Oleg as he did so. "Take a hold of your end! Push, Oleg! Pu-" he was cut off as a bullet sliced through his skull, splattering Oleg with grey matter, bone fragments and a deep crimson red artwork splattering and bouncing off his armour. His body slumped over the crank, jerking with the flow of the caravan as it was pushed into Tulskaya, the giant metal gate folding together to cover their rear.
The caravan leader twisted about, speaking quickly. "Everyone ok? The goods still in place? Balalaika, good shooting! Oleg, good work on the crank! David G-" he stopped dead, staring for a few seconds. An experienced regular, killed by a stray bullet. Who knows what thoughts crossed his mind? But as a caravan leader, he did not have time right now to think things over.
Radek shook his head to the stalker, only afterwards realising how odd it was to find someone in the metro who didn't smoke. "No....I never quite had the-er...currency for it." he muttered in reply. The sound of groaning metal drew his gaze back toward the rail where a caravan was rushing in, grinding to a halt quickly. He saw the platform of the railcar splattered with blood and a dead body slumped over one of the hand cranks. "Perfect..." he muttered to himself. Looks like this was the Caravan heading to Sevastapolskaya and it appeared to be needing a new guard.
He approached quickly, showing no sympathy for the body as he called out- "My name is Radomir Markovic! Who is the caravan leader here? I'll replace that corpse of yours for whatever you were paying him." Radek was quite obviously unaware of the meaning of sympathy as a few of the guards stared toward him, stunned at his hubris. In his head, Radek naturally reasoned that the guard must have been weak or he would have survived. Since the weak would die anyway, why care? Apparently many of the caravan didn't share his opinion as he swept his gaze across the passengers, eventually settling his blue eyed gaze onto Oleg, a fine looking figure of purity. A pang acted in his gut however. 'Havn't I seen you before?' he thought.
OOC: Ikr, happened to me SO many times. EDIT OOC: Just to inform people who don't know, T'voyu Mat - Your mother Suki - Bitches
|
|
|
Post by The Karcolith on May 23, 2012 0:13:53 GMT -5
Oleg was shocked at the death of David, he hadn't known the man more a than a few mere hours but had talked more than he normally did. But he'd grown used to losing people in combat, in fact it was one of the only traits he was glad he'd picked up from the Reich. It had been hardened by his time spent as a stalker.
Wiping the gore that had once been David's head from his armor and picking pieces of what he'd rather not guess from around him, he helped lower the corpse off of the cart before taking his seat again. By this time Radek had announced himself and taken the now empty seat.
Looking to the man several emotions struck him at the same time. Fear, surprise and raw anger. The man carried an air about himself, something he'd known. Locking eyes with the man's startled blue eyes. He'd seen this man before. However the exact circumstances of where, were a little blurry.
Wiping the hand crank once more and rolling his shoulders. Looking back to the newcomer. "Let's hope it's an easier trip this time." He said quietly waiting for the word to move out.
|
|
|
Post by spartacus on May 23, 2012 16:56:02 GMT -5
Radek kept eye contact with Oleg for a few, long seconds. He had been recognised. But he had been raised in the Reich no one outside of it would-... 'Ah...' he thought to himself. 'So that's where I know him from'. So he was from the Reich..but was he an agent sent out like him, or a traitor? Radek snorted through his nose at the thought. Traitors. Worse than the impure and the mis-guided. People who had been raised under the Reich's reigime and denied it's full glory. Sabotours, communists incognito, Anarchists...whatever the Reich's true followers called them, their punishment was allways universal.
Death.
"So..." he muttered eventually as they began pumpung the crank, "Where are you from?" Radek spoke in what he thought was a calm voice, but was blissfully unaware of his own level of cockyness instilled into him. His body language remained starkly rigid and he could not shake off the raised hairs on his neck as a particularly eastern-looking man brushed passed him on the Caravan. He took a moment to gaze around, noticing the members of the crew. When he spotted Balalaika, he grinned cockily for a moment before turning back to the crank. The Reich was in need of women.
|
|
|
Post by The Karcolith on May 24, 2012 2:34:46 GMT -5
Oleg delayed answering Radek instead observing the newcomers actions, also knowing how Reich members were, it would annoy him if he wasn't answered immediately. He was sure from the way this young man carried himself that he was a member of the Reich, he probably had blonde hair under that hood Oleg thought.
"I was from the surface, before the war. But since that is all gone, it doesn't really matter does it? I've called many stations home in my life and none have ever really suited me, but than a good stalker never settles, does he?" He answered leading away from the topic, while thinking of his time with the Reich. He tried to think of something that would make Radek react.
Occupying himself with cranking the cart along he thought of something to ask.
"What do you think of the war between the Reds and the Reich?" He asked, it was a subject he kept some interest in. "It sure will be interesting to see who gets the upper hand, personally I can't see the Reich holding out against the Reds much longer."
|
|
|
Post by spartacus on May 24, 2012 5:35:54 GMT -5
Radek licked his lips as the man delayed to answer. If he was a Reich agent, he had certainly been out for a long time to forget the basics. But, he had been trained to expect this and so he put his energy into cranking instead. Oleg's story was deliberately elusive, but again, that could go either for or against the accusation of Oleg being a traitor....he had to see his reaction somehow.
The question about the war caught him off guard, it was a somewhat obvious probe as he felt Oleg's eyes boring into him, trying to discover the same thing Radek was. He knew he would have to say things people were shot for saying back home in order to seem reasonable here in the decedant Metro, but he could not quite bring himself to do so. He was starkly aware of how he stood out now amongst the other members of the caravan, his body language saying more than it should so he tried to loosen himself up with little success.
In the end, Radek bit his tongue bitterly as he spoke, attempting to put some resolve into his voice. "I do not concern myself with wars." he spoke quickly, glancing his gaze upwards to eye Oleg. He needed to see his reaction but he could not reveal himself as an agent. He had no Reich passport or symbols on him, it was not their fashion in the secret service to do so for the very reason that they might be recognised so any accusation Oleg made could be easily rebutted so long as he stood with the caravan. Radek reached up for his hood for a moment, moving it backwards with a sniff to reveal short, blonde hair made messy from the hard work of the crank. He glanced up casually toward Oleg, trying to gauge his reaction as they traveled through the abandoned tunnel, a clattering of feet running above them very lightly, almost inaudibly.
|
|
|
Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 24, 2012 6:24:51 GMT -5
"Bloody fucking hell...", muttered Balalaika. One man killed in a freak attack by bandits. Weren't these tunnels supposed to be quiet? The blood and brains splattered over the railcar seemed to show otherwise. The small woman eyed each of the men guarding the caravan, looking for signs of fear and uncertainty. She cared little for death. All that mattered to her was money and getting paid.
When the caravan picked up a new passenger in Tulskaya, Balalaika returned his cocky grin with a melvolent gaze.
"What the fuck are you smirking at?", she spat. She wasn't going to put up with a worthless, womanising bozo, but thankfully he climbed on to the front railcar. When the convoy started moving again, Balalaika returned her attention to her task.
"Nagornaya had better be quiet today...", she muttered uneasily.
|
|
|
Post by quandry on May 24, 2012 14:10:04 GMT -5
Curtis shoved his hands into his jacket, watching Radek take his seat so eagerly. He spat out the cigarette, discarding it among the rails. The officer from before arrived, and as the caravan began to leave, he blew his whistle until his face glew red, indicating for them to stop.
Nearly shoved towards the cart, Curtis approached the leader.
"Not so much room. . ." He looked at the papers and raised his eyebrows, "Nope, doesn't seem like we can turn you down," He looked into the cart, "Sit between the two there, you don't need to crank. We still got a long way to go."
"Sure thing."
The stalker climbed into the cart, shuffling his coat, and fit between Oleg and Radek rather tightly. Curtis himself didn't really care; he pulled out his old porno from a pocket inside his jacket and leaned back. Obviously, he seemed unconcerned in general. The cart began moving forward, creeping through the town with as much ease as it could offer.
|
|