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Post by The Karcolith on May 27, 2012 2:52:57 GMT -5
"Huh?"Oleg grunted in response to Radek's answer about the war. It was probably a lie but he wasn't really able to think of way to probe further in that direction.
Trying not to act to surprised when Radek removed his hood, unveiling his messy blonde hair, but people had blonde hair all over the metro. Before he could think or say anything else another man dropped into the seat next him, distracting him.
Flicking a officious glance to Radek and than back to the nonchalant newcomer he decided to drop the investigating for now, working away at the crank he asked in more casual tone to either man in the cart.
"So where do you call home?" He asked gazing around the station. He had to think of a new way to figure out how to incriminate Radek, before he could of asked more directly, but chances were certain things changed since he'd exiled from the group.
For now he'd bid his time, and wait for an opportunity to either separate Radek and himself from the caravan and beat the answer out of him, or hopefully catch him out somehow through his behavior.
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Post by spartacus on May 27, 2012 6:48:48 GMT -5
Radek ground his teeth as Oleg failed to respond in any way to his looks. This was probably better than it was worse, surely a traitor would have flipped at the mere sight of an Aryan? Then again, he had little social experience and he was painfully aware of it. As he mulled over the though he tensed up when Curtis plonked himself into the seat beside himself. The man had an odd aroma about him and he couldn't stand it. It reeked of....decedence.
Radek continued cranking and cranking until Oleg popped the question out there. Radek furrowed his brow for a moment and shrugged. "Kitai-Gorod" he stated bluntly. That was a well-rounded, if criminal run, station which held all sorts of people from Neo-Nazi's to Trotskyists to Anarchists.
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Post by quandry on May 29, 2012 0:07:54 GMT -5
Curtis licked his finger in order to turn the next page, in which a two-page vertical shot was taken. He held it up and squinted at the nude model, raising one eyebrow in intrigue as if he were a connesuier of some kind. He thought about it for a moment, and then he realized that the wagon would've seen whatever mess he'd left behind. It only took a few moments for him to get to the verdict of what he wanted to do.
They seemed to almost be out of the town until the man next to him cracked a question to the rest of the caravan. He waited for man who stole his initial spot to speak before being next-in-line;
"Katai-Gorod? Me too, a bit-- Well, Arbat Confederation is where really I was born. But I've been spending the last few years up on the surface, a friend of mine found a bunker so we're planning on living up there. Infact, we got a big plan ahead of us, bullets beyond your dreams." His eyes never really left his magazine, which was held up infront of his face, but he seemed to incline towards Oleg, "But, I'll talk about that later. How 'bout you, partner?"
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Post by The Karcolith on May 29, 2012 12:53:29 GMT -5
"Me?" Oleg questioned answering Curtis' question, "I don't call anywhere home, I haven't for years, like you I've been scouring the surface for a living. You say you want to live in a bunker on the surface?" Oleg asked curiously. It seemed like a rather mad idea to him, but maybe there was something he didn't know.
Looking back to Radek he asked casually more out of curiosity than the inquisitive nature he would have before.
"Have you been to the surface Radomir?" He asked...
((OOC: Will add more later))
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Post by spartacus on May 29, 2012 13:06:05 GMT -5
Radek furrowed his brow, eavsdropping on Curtis' short conversation with Oleg. Could life really survive on the surface? The idea of a bunker was, he supposed, not all that different from a Metro. But surely then they would be trapped in the event of an attack? It was an odd concept, he decided that he must see this bunker one day. "I...have had some experience. Nothing but short, paid patrols just around the exit...i've never properly explored the city above our heads." Radek said genuinly. The only part he decided to omit from his tale was the hours he spent tied to a stake with nothing but a gasmask on as a child in order to make him slightly more resistant to the radiation. The memories made him slightly fearful of the surface...the screams..those terrifying, howling screams that tore through his skull as he cried for his father, the General who raised him... No. It made him strong. He no longer cried, it was a useless addition to the human system. He had all but expunged it from his body. And now he knew that little extra defense against the radiation would prove useful if ever he were to revisit the surface. As he pumped the cranks he found his head growing fuzzier...a strange noise filled his head in a commanding voice, akin to that of the great Fuhrer, and yet... "LEAVE THIS PLACE" Radek stumbled backwards into the seat, clasping his ears with a groan as the image of a deadly black figure flashed before his eyes. OOC - Will edit as Karco edit's his.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on May 31, 2012 4:05:21 GMT -5
Balalaika ignored what the others were talking about. Besides, the creaking and squeaking of the railcar was enough to drown out most of it for her, since she was sitting at the back. Instead, she idly kept her eyes on the back of the convoy, her headlamp illuminating the darkness of the tunnel. Soon they'd be leaving the "civilised" section of the line and would be travelling through two deserted stations: Nagatinskaya and Nagornaya. Nagatinskaya wasn't anything special, but Nagornaya...
Balalaika shivered. Evil things went on in Nagornaya. It was one of those stations that seemed tainted by something evil and incomprehensible to the human senses and intellect. Her friend Nadya, who had travelled to the deepest, farthest reaches of the Metro, knew of many such places. Places where voices echoed from ages long gone and forgotten, places haunted by strange things...
And then, suddenly, Balalaika found her thoughts becoming more distant, her mind growing fuzzier. A strange noise like static suddenly seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Gingerly, she raised a hand to her temple...
LEAVE THIS PLACE.
Balalaika's breath froze abruptly in her lungs and her eyes shot wide open. A single, loud voice had echoed in her ears...or was it her mind? The voice seemed to have lacked timbre or sonority, it had just been there, in her head, utterly paralysing and overwhelming in its ethereal authority.
Losing her balance, Balalaika almost fell off the railcar. She grasped the handrail, panting, her vision going blurry and her head throbbing agonisingly.
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Post by The Karcolith on Jun 1, 2012 7:28:18 GMT -5
"It's quite the experience." Oleg commented to Radek about the surface, "But ever perilous of course." They were approaching Nagornaya, to Oleg it was a miserable place, others said it was cursed and that people would go insane. He'd heard of people even dying from tunnel like this. An eerie feeling came over Oleg, he hardened his will against the station's 'effects', clasping the crank firmly and continuing the rhythmic action of cranking the cart along, Radek seemed to be suffering badly from something, as did Balalaika who very nearly fell out of the cart. "Focus, focus on the crank." Oleg said in a strong voice, a whisper went through his head, a chilling voice. LEAVE THIS PLACE. Squeezing his eyes shut, he said again, more forceful this time, in a voice that wasn't dissimilar to that of the sort he used when fighting the Reds, hoping that Radek might be able focus if he thought he was among colleagues. "Focus, be strong, FOCUS!" He said shouting, letting the cart roll on it's own, he reached across and shook Radek. Locking on to his eyes clouded with fear, his own eyes empty, and cold. "Snap out of it, your being weak." Hoping the allegations would penetrate whatever was affecting him, and at the same time maybe reveal something that Radek wouldn't normally reveal.
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Post by spartacus on Jun 1, 2012 8:35:08 GMT -5
Radek was rocking back and forth, incomprehensible screaming going on through his head. He saw flashes of images, childhood memories, his friend Dmitri being skewered - at that thought he burst out into a groan as if crying, but no tears would come. 'Why can't I cry?'
'Why can't I cry!?' Above the din, above the screams he heard a far away voice, somehow familiar yelling "Foooocccuusssss!!", the sound reaching him slowly and eerily as if stretching across a vast plain. Suddenly the flashing of random memories stopped and he was presented with a magnificent image he had never seen before. He was alone, flying in mid-air, his body nowhere to be seen. In front of him was a grand, golden building surrounded by magnificent trees that stretched along an incomprehensibly infinte roadway. Around a scattering of side roads he recognised a wonderful city, living, breathing, vehicles moving too and fro, specks of people going about their daily routine. In front of him, standing taller than anything else, was a grand spectacle indeed. The Kremlin. He recognised it from some old pictures. The stars, the amazing domed rooftops, the jagged, formidable walls. And as he stared at the stars, transfixed by their glittering beauty, he saw a black splash below him. Soon he realised it was water...a sick, evil water falling from the sky. And as he watched, the city began to melt as the water became a black acid, burning everyone and everything. He wanted to scream, but he had no mouth. And all he could do was watch helplessly as everything beautiful burned. Everything but the Kremlin. Suddenly as he gasped, the world coming back to him, although in a faded fashion. He was staring at Oleg who was shouting some dulled words and he stared, eyes wide trying to make out what he was saying. '....You're being weak!' Now he understood. Out of pure instinct he shot forward, shoving Oleg back as he let out a yell, pumping at the cranks furiously with all his might with strength he didnt know he had, tapping into the reserves saved for life and death situations. He found himself recanting a childhood marching order. "I will not be weak! Weakness is death! Death is servitude!" Radek found himself repeating that for a long time, unaware of whether it was a mumble or a yell, just pumping, eyes closed as he pushed and pushed, trying to escape the dreaded station.
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Post by quandry on Jun 1, 2012 19:12:50 GMT -5
Curtis elbowed Oleg, giving him a peek into the page, "You know, sometimes I wonder if any of these girls are my mother-- they should be old eno--" The man wasn't listening, not in the slightest. But to Curtis, it didn't really matter. He just went back on. His father would probably never have a chance with one of these girls anyhow. But it wasn't long until he laid back; some of the others started to freak out, going down the tunnel, but Curtis fancied sleeping through. He seemed to have a tough day, and this part of the tunnel was always a bother. Almost as instantly as he closed his eyes, his body fell limp and the magazine covered his face. A wave of black mucus filled his body, and he grabbed at his exploding cranium of vile soot. Swimming in a never ending sea of dark goo, the thick paste slowed his advance, only granted vision when terrible squeals of lightning visciously tore through the air. And in these flashes, you could see an intense monster, a giant wave that gruesomely bore a smile from ear to ear, teeth distorted in a frenzy-phase of hatred. A voice came through-- LEAVE THIS PL-- AAAAAAARRRGGHH!! And was blocked off immediately by the nightmarish thunder of the beast, swallowing Curtis' retreating body. He awoke to Radek pushing Oleg away, slamming his hands on the crank screaming. But what he screamed stirred Curtis the most. He heard it before, and it seemed to light a fuse. Jolting from his seat, Curtis pulled his revolver against Radek's head, pulling the trigger as rapidly as possible. But nothing shot out, the gun had been empty-- He had to be sure, he had to be, so he asked Radek, still pressing with what little leverage his element of suprise had, "Tell me you're equal to me! Tell me you're a human being, just like me! Tell me!" His paranoia was obviously catching up to him, and when he discovered it, he didn't care. He wanted to be re-assured, and re-assured immediately, that he wasn't sitting next to a fascist-worshipping pig. The pages of his porno became unbound in the act of all this, being thrown into the back in a messy and irrecoverable manner.
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Post by spartacus on Jun 2, 2012 5:19:29 GMT -5
Radek felt the gun against his head as he pumped, glancing sidelong and aware Curtis could see Radek understanding the situation. He stopped rechanting and went to answer but felt his tongue catch in his mouth as if a pincer held it in place, his mouth frozen open as if he had been stabbed. He shoved his chest out as he tried to let out a word, but all that came was an odd 'Huuuurrgghnn!'
He felt his neck twist painfully to face Curtis his arms still following in their rythmic actions as his mouth spoke words his brain knew nothing of, his voice somehow not his own.
"Are we not all....equal....in d-d-death?" his mouth fumbled and rolled, eventually spitting out the phrase. He furrowed his brows at Curtis, his eyes screaming 'THIS IS NOT ME SPEAKING!' and yet, his tongue continued on...
"We used to be....like you....we used to be....d-divided-ed-ed-ed-ed...now we are onnnneeeee. The stars of the o-o-old govveerrnnnment will sh-ooowww you tooo ussssss" The words began to lose focus as Radek regained partial control of his tongue, now just arrived at the station of death, Nagornaya and the tunnell slipped downhill a bit, travelling at it's own momentum now.
As Radek finally regained control of his body he gasped, letting out a brief "I....!" and then he dropped. His energy drained completely, the unconscious seizing him. During his unconscious state he groaned....odd, horrid moaning like that of a tortured man. And his dreams...Those dreams...
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jun 3, 2012 9:51:00 GMT -5
The fear. It was omnipresent, a veritable ocean of inky terror emanating from every centimetre of the tunnel, everything was black and cloying, obscene, the lantern hanging from the back of the railcar a sickeningly red ball of bloody light. Balalaika shut her eyes, trying to repel the awful blackness, but even behind her eyelids it was there, everywhere. Her skin was slick with sweat, sounds all around her distorted and slow, like voices in an aquarium.
Balalaika took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, but it came out ragged and broken. Slowly, almost drunkenly, she turned to see what was going on at the front of the caravan, what all the deformed, muffled noise was about. The guards appeared to be fighting, or writhing around, she could quite tell. Their movements were blurry and sickening to her senses and all she could do was shut her eyes again and try to drown out the dreadful, nauseous din.
And all she was left with was her heartbeat. Hollow, disgustingly organic and yet strangely alien to her. A pulsating horror, pumping her body full of foul, poisonous fluid...
Nastia...Nastia...Nastia...
She screamed, the high-pitched sound ripping its way to freedom and instantly shattering the nightmare she was in. Gone was the blackness, gone were the red orbs of nightmare light and back were the voices, the sounds of the caravan, the echoes of the tunnel. She blinked a few times, her vision blurry and a nasty high-pitched whistling sound going through her mind. Something wet and warm was running from her nose. With two fingers, she reached up to touch it. They came back stained with red. Blood.
The men in front seemed to have fallen into a strange and frightening insanity, screaming at each other and shouting.
"What the fuck...is going on?", she slurred.
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Post by The Karcolith on Jun 4, 2012 10:52:46 GMT -5
Oleg fell back grasping at the side of the cart avoiding the crank handle which was flailing from Radek's furious work. Despite all this he'd heard what he'd said too, smiling inwardly he knew exactly where such remarks before, but it seemed so had Curtis.
However the young man spoke, as if possessed, it certainly wasn't anything a fascist would say, which intrigued Oleg.
"It seems our friend here is either a fascist or possessed. Either way, we shouldn't take any chances with him, he should be restrained in case he tries to attack one of us." He said, more as a suggestion rather than a command, it seemed several people that had been traveling with them had ran away into the darkness.
Looking to Balalaika who had slurred a question.
"It would appear that the station's... presence has gotten to some of our colleagues." He answered, nobody else seemed to have any idea what had happened, and with the unaccounted escorts that had run in terror, he wasn't sure if anyone else other than Curtis had actually heard of seen what Radek had said.
Sitting down he took hold of the crank again, with some strain began moving the cart along. Not sure what else to expect as they went along away from the cursed station.
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Post by spartacus on Jun 4, 2012 12:10:37 GMT -5
Radek laid still, unable to change and unaware of his surroundings and any effect they might have upon him. All he did, was dream. Nightmares tore through his mind, the very voice that stole his tongue acting as a narrator for the vile images set before him on a stage made of blackened, sickening plague-riddled blood. Interspaced between these nightmarish images that tore through the very essence of his being, making leeway into his most deeply buried fears, were moments of incredible clarity and lucidity. Before him stood the Kremlin, again. The city effectivly destroyed around him in the state he viewed it on those few and short expeditions he had taken to the surface. A viscious blob-like entity spread itself below him, quickly coalescing into a tangent, black being before him, flying high alongside Radek. Was this a Dark One? He had never seen one before...long, spindly limbs...an odd, jawless face...and yet Radek felt it's immense power as if it were a thousand Fuhrers. This creature was undoubtedly the future of mankind, as some people had suggested. And yet, as much as it went against everything he believed in, he felt sure he would follow this creature to depths even the Fuhrer couldn't ask of him.
The being took him by the hand, shooting a nightmare through his veins as the lucidity faded. He felt himself burn, be buried alive, be eaten by rabid Nosalis' and then when he was all chopped up and fed to the pigs of VDNKh of which he had read, he screamed as each individual bite into each individual peice of his parted corpse unleashed a wave of pain as if the nerves remained connected.
Soon came the lucidity again and now the black being sucked Artyom through the Kremlin, down it's dark hallways. He could see nothing but impressivly mosaiced flooring before being drawn down a staircase that smelled of evil. A sort of memory lapse occured and he found himself standing in front of giant steel door, surrounded by a number of neatly charred skeletons. Then again, he blinked, and he was through the door, standing in a magnificent place, similar to a station, but cylindrical, with a seemingly never-ending staircase leading down-down-down. And when he gazed down the pit, he saw the tip of a beautiful white cone, various symbols and writing he couldn't make out scrawled on it with a control panel in a booth nearby. Radek glanced up and around for any clue as to where he was, and then he saw it, what he had been sent to find; unconsciously, without awareness, he muttered in his waking form... "D-6....", as his mind lapsed once again into the nightmarish hell of his own fears.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jun 8, 2012 4:59:23 GMT -5
They weren't moving fast enough, or at least, not fast enough to Balalaika's blurred senses. The cart seemed to be crawling along the tracks like a rock sinking through molass. They had to leave as quickly as possible, for Nagornaya's influence was sinking its claws into their psyches. Balalaika could already feel the overwhelming, suffocating sense of terror overcoming her again.
"Pump this fucking lever faster!", she cried before scrabbling over the crates that separated her from the front. She shoved one of the comatose men aside, grabbed the lever and started pumping as fast and as hard as her arms could pump.
"We...have...to get...out...of here!", she panted, casting fearful glances at the station. The man she'd shoved aside was now muttering something about D-6...utter nonsense probably. All Balalaika cared about now was saving her skin.
And as the cart began to gather speed, shadows of the deepest, darkest black began to gather around them, seemingly clinging to the vehicle like an evil gelatinous mass. The air also became filled with frightening low wails of an unknown source. These disembodied cries filled Balalaika with even more fear and anguish, and tears began to stream down her face as she started to mutter incoherently to herself.
"So many dead...so much suffering...they're all screaming at us...shut up, please shut up...oh God..."
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Post by quandry on Jun 9, 2012 3:53:46 GMT -5
Curtis jolted at his seat, "Him hurt us? You're worried about the fascist bastard hurting us?" He grabbed Radek and pressed him against the edge of the cart, "You want to feel how it is to be crushed under the wheels of this cart-- huh? Do you?" But he was limp, unresponsive. Disatisfied he pulled the limp man next to him, propped him up, and started loading bullets into his gun frantically. The metallic edge of the bullets banging against the ground as a result of his shakey hands stabbed pains into his head. "Ugh. . ."
Some more noise was present, and before he knew it, Radek's body was pushed onto him. He fired randomly outside the cart, screaming at the top of his lung. Now dropping his pistol into the bottom of the cart, the mans eyes were barely opening. He looked at Radek straight, breathing steadily while a thousand spectres of pain squealed around him, "Are you a fascist? A fucking nazi? I will fucking RIP YOUR TEETH OUT! AAAHHH!!"
He shook Radek back and forth before scrambling for his gun on the floor, "First," He said towards Oleg, regardless of whether he was listening, "I'll shoot the pig in the knees." He clicked the hammer on the gun, now retrieved, "Then, we'll. . .we'll castrate him. Hang him upside down. Skin the fucker, burn him alive w-with his own flesh-- Lets fucking do it!" And as he pressed the barrel hard against Radek's knee, he fired as fast as he could; but lo and behold, there were no bullets left.
Being the second time in the journey he hadn't succeeded in wounding or killing Radek, he screamed, throwing his gun violently at the opposite seat, "WHY!" Grabbing Radek and pushing him against the cushion, "WONT!" Another shove, "YOU!" Once more, "DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIEDIEDIEDIE!!"
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