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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 17, 2011 18:15:23 GMT -5
It had been one long and very tiring trip. Going to the surface always was, but Balalaika was used to it. She was used to the cold, the desolation, the omnipresent danger of mutants and the radiation. It was all part of her life, her job, her "role" in the metro. It was that or nothing. As she approached the blast door that shut Kievskaya off from the surface, a light was switched on and pointed at her face.
"Who goes there?", said a gruff voice from somewhere in the obscurity. Balalaika, blinking in the harsh light, raised her hands above her head and shouted:
"-Turn that fucking light off, I'm human!"
The light was, much to her relief, immediately switched off, leaving her in complete darkness before the blast doors behind the guard post were opened, letting a flicker of light into the dark tunnel. Balalaika picked up the bag she'd been carrying and had dropped on the ground when the guard had bade her to stop and walked into Kievskaya, nodding at the three guards stationed at the entrance. As usual, Kievskaya was burgeoning with activity, with people selling their wares from wooden stands in some of the station's alcoves while others hurried about their daily business.
"-Well if it ain't Balalaika", said a voice that made Balalaika's hair stand on end. "Didn't think I'd see you again..."
Balalaika turned around and sighed as she recognised the governor of the Arbat-controlled half of Kievskaya. They both got on like cats and dogs, and Balalaika smirked insolently before answering:
"-Well if it ain't Petrov. Still sucking on Hansa's cock?"
Balalaika did an obscene gesture with her hand and cheek to illustrate her gibe, which made Petrov scowl menacingly. Feeling the storm clouds gather, Balalaika switched to a more cautious attitude. Why was Petrov out here? And why did he have two armed guards with him? Everything about Petrov spelled trouble.
"-You won't be so gabby once I tell you what me and my comrades are here for", said Petrov, his mouth twisting into a nasty smile. "You owe the Arbat Confederation 5000 bullets, and you have to pay them up now or face imprisonment.
Oh shit. So that's what Petrov was so happy about. Balalaika looked quickly around her like a cornered rat looking for an exit. Her only hope was to reach the Hansa controlled part of Kievskaya, since Hansa always listened to what she had to say. Here, she was at Petrov's mercy.
"-Well err, shit", said Balalaika. "But I'm afraid I don't really feel like cooperating..."
And with that, the small woman bolted, leaving Petrov and his two guards behind. The trio quickly caught on though, and began to give chase.
"-Stop her! She's trying to reach Hansa!"
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 17, 2011 23:27:51 GMT -5
Yuras walked through Kievskaya; he had only just returned from the surface less then an hour ago and was looking for something to warm himself up then find a place to rest. It seemed that next time he went back out he would have to go deeper into the dead city. The areas just outside the stations had been pretty well been picked clean by other stalkers meaning he would have to take longer and longer trips. As if Nikita did not worry about him enough as it is, instead of him being gone a day or two he would be gone three or four. It also meant that the possibility of being trapped on the surface during the day would become much more likely, something that he prayed to both god and devil would never happen to him. Very few people who had ever been stuck on the surface ever made it back alive and the ones that did had gone insane. The world above was not the domain of humanity any more, yet still he had hope that humans would one day take the world back.
"Stop her! She's trying to reach Hansa!"
Pull from his thoughts he turned in the direction the shouting had came from, he watched as a woman of small stature ran by, behind her Arbat goons where in hot pursuit. He at first did not want to get involved with the matter, but after noting the woman looked to be around the same height as his missing sister, he changed his mind. Seeing a pile of old rusty metal barrels stacked on their sides he went up to them and after making sure the woman had passed he pushed them over. The barrels rolled into the Arbat pursuers and knocked them off their feet, before anyone was able to get their wits about them he was gone. By the time Petrov and his men where back on their feet the woman was on the Hansa side of the station. Yuras smirked to himself having made enough trouble for one day, he slowly began to make his way to the Hansa part of Kievskaya in hopes of meeting with the recent escapee.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 18, 2011 0:00:43 GMT -5
As Balalaika ran from Petrov and his men, she dodged between the people in the station, doing her best to put as many metres as possible between her and them. Unfortunately, her short legs were no match for the taller Petrov and his two watch dogs, and Balalaika found herself losing ground. As she was sure Petrov would catch her, a thunderous rumble and cries of alarm reached her ears, and she was flabbergasted to see metal barrels roll off their support and crash into her pursuers.
Not even slowing to see what had happened, she sped forth, snatching her passport out of her pocket and quickly showing it to the guards between Arbat and Hansa. The guards were not particularly zealous, so she passed without any problems and soon found herself in the Hansa half of Kievskaya, slowing down and finally stopping to catch her breath. The run from Arbat had exhausted her, as she wasn't carrying the lightest of loads. The Hansa controlled half of Kievskaya seemed more populated than the Arbat half, but Balalaika cared little for differences in population. Instead, she demanded to see the local administrator. Unfortunately, the administrator was away in another station of the Ring Line, so all Balalaika could do was go to the local bar and indulge in one of her favourite hobbies: getting piss drunk on vodka.
Having dumped her loot next to her bar stool, she slapped a few bullets on the counter and addressed the bar keeper.
"All right comrade, vodka for me", she said.
"-So Balalaika, how was the surface?", asked the bartender, who had already seen the short woman many times in his establishment. Balalaika took a swig of vodka and answered curtly:
"-Fucking freezing. Also, demons fucking love me, they're like dogs trying to hump my leg, only with more claws and teeth and they want to tear me to pieces. That's love for you."
The bartender laughed and went off to serve another customer, leaving Balalaika to her booze. The short woman soon lapsed into a fuzzy, alcohol induced reverie.
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 18, 2011 12:25:36 GMT -5
Yuras strolled up to the Hansa guards and idly showed his passport then crossed over the invisible line that divide the Arbat and Hansa controlled halves of Kievskaya. Unsurprisingly the Hansa side of the station was more populated then the Arbat side. The Hansa controlled more stations and had a much large territory then the Arbat, that meant the Hans merchants where able to provide more of a selection and better prices then the Arbat. Naturally people would go to the place that offer the best deals and more items.
He looked around the market for a bit, but saw nothing that caught his eye so he made his way to the local bar. He took a set on the stool on the opposite side of Balalaïka and her bag and waited to be served. He had been to this establishment once or twice before, the food and drinks here where pretty good and reasonably priced.
“What will you have,” asked the bartender as he wiped a shot glass.
“Vodka,” said Yuras placing a few bullets on the counter to cover his expenses.
The barkeep took the ammunition and placed a cup and a bottle of the station made vodka in front of him. Yuras pored the mushroom vodka into his cup as he looked over at the woman next to him. Maya had been gone for five years but he doubted that her appearance had changed that much over the years, but there was still a chance.
“You must have a guardian angel or just be very lucky,” he said taking a swig of his drink and relished in the warmth that spread throughout his body, “not too many people could have gotten away from those guys.”
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 18, 2011 12:41:13 GMT -5
"...so I decided to go through the building", said Balalaika, slurring as she spoke to the bartender. "It was a big building, y'know, with a big hallway and shit. I guess...I guess it was some kind of office before the war. Anyway, I went through the building and..."
“-You must have a guardian angel or just be very lucky,” said someone, interrupting her little anecdote, “not too many people could have gotten away from those guys.”
Balalaika turned drunkenly around on her stool to face whoever had spoken. A man on the stool next to hers whose grubby clothes and gear and all round rugged appearance seemed to show that he was an explorer, or maybe a scavenger like her. Hansa attracted a lot of scavengers due to its opulence and wealth, which kindled the hopes of those who wished to sell their finds at a high price. Balalaika knew however that Hansa was also tight-fisted, and preferred to pay little.
"-Whu?", she said, blinking slightly. "Guardian angel? What a load of shite. I'm just the luckiest girl in the metro, that's all. Who're you anyway?"
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 18, 2011 22:39:33 GMT -5
Yuras’s hopes of finally being reunited with his sister where once again obliterated, like a ship that had been dashed across rocks during a storm. The drunken woman was about the same height as his sister she even had the same blue eyes and black hair as Maya had. But the woman's voice was not a match nor was her age, it was close but still a miss. Maybe next time it would be Maya, his sister had to still be alive, even if she had only one tenth of their father's blood she would find someway to survive.
"Whu?" said the woman unsteadily, ""Guardian angel? What a load of shite. I'm just the luckiest girl in the metro, that's all. Who're you anyway?"
Finishing the cup he poured himself another one before answering, he needed to get some sleep before his return trip to Polis but it would look odd if he did not reply to her seeing that he was the one to start the conversation. Yet still he had sometime on his hands.
"Just a neutral observer," he said then took another drink from his cup, "but what does it matter, I'll be moving along shortly anyway."
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 19, 2011 12:43:31 GMT -5
"Hrrm", said Balalaika before taking another gulp of vodka and unceremoniously wiping her mouth on her sleeve. The bar was starting to spin now, not that this worried her. All she needed now was a place to crash. "Moving along eh? Where to? Polis? bah, doesn't matter."
She got down from her stool, struggling slightly to stay standing. A few of the bar's regular customers looked at her and smiled knowingly. Balalaika was smashed again. The short woman stumbled slightly, trying to reach the exit before the bartender walked around the counter and took her shoulders.
"-C'mon, Balalaika, time to lie down."
Balalaika let herself be lead behind the counter and into the storeroom, where there was an old mattress on the floor. Muttering to herself, she didn't even bother taking her boots off and slumped onto the mattress where she promptly fell asleep.
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 19, 2011 23:52:35 GMT -5
He watched, as the woman was lead behind the counter then into a small room by the barkeeper. It was clear by the reactions that "the luckiest girl in the metro" was well known around this area; perhaps this was her home station or something. He quickly downed the rest of his drink, then got up from the stool and left the bar. He was slightly buzzed by the time he was done, yet managed to remain steady and up right when walking. He soon found an unoccupied bench and laid down on it, this would serve as his bed for the night.
The station's walls, floors and ceiling where covered in grime, dirt and dust. All of which was caused by the many years of cooking, campfires and just human occupation. Yet despite the time that had passed and the amount of people that lived here one could still find traces of the metros past. The old pre war government had spared no expense when they made the stations each had been well decorated with paintings and murals, floors and walls made of marble and delicate gold painted inlays. What's more almost no two stations looked alike and some stations like this one where dedicated to different Slavic cultures. Kievskaya as the name implied was dedicated to Ukrainian culture; perhaps that was why he always felt homesick when staying here. The only things that he had of his original homeland where the fleeting memories of his childhood and what stories his father had told him. He could only remember very little of his life before the war, it was as if the Metro wiped away your identity and memories.
Yuras laughed at the notion; the Vodka had to be playing with his mind, he hugged his pack to his chest worried that some thief would steal what he had worked so hard to scavenge on the surface. He was one of the few lucky scavengers that Polis would hire, most of the time it was to look for things like smaller car parts, computer equipment, rubber, bolts and sometimes books. This time he had been sent out to find copper wiring and pipes, that where a big commodity even after the war. Slowly he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
The next morning he awoke to something moving around in his bag, he opened his eyes to find an older man dressed in nothing but tattered clothing trying to dig into his rucksack. The thief now realizing that the person he was trying to rob was now awake tried to take hold of whatever he could get his hands on then run. However Yuras was faster, he took the man by the back of his collar and kicked out his legs from under him. The would be thief fell to the ground with a loud thud and dropped the pipe that he had gotten a hold of. Yuras let go of the man's rag of a garment and the man took off forgetting the copper he tried to steal.
He didn’t bother to chases the man as he picked up the pipe, chances where the Hansa guards had already gotten hold of him, and if they didn’t well then maybe that would have been enough of a lesson. Despite of his assurance that the thief did not take anything off his person he checked to make sure. It would be a major issue if he found out later that he didn’t have his passport or other important documents. Fortunately he was right and so continued on his way. To get to Polis he would have to go through one more Arbat controlled station, not like that was going to be an issues yesterdays incident would most like be forgotten by now and even if it wasn’t they didn’t have any proof he did anything anyway.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 20, 2011 12:17:01 GMT -5
Balalaika slept uneasily, as her dreams were visited by memories of her childhood as well as her time spent in Kropotkinskaya. In her dreams, agents of the Red Line chased her through dark tunnels with no end, and a horrible, rotting creature she knew was her father chased after her with its skeletal hands outstretched. After several hours of fitful sleep, Balalaika woke up feeling stiff and with an atrocious migraine, something to be expected from sleeping on a lumpy old mattress with unhealthy quantities of vodka in your system.
Grunting, she got up and left the storage room, mumbling a hasty thank you to the bartender who was opening up his bar for a new "day" in the metro. She left the bar and headed for the nearest weapon trader, as her Hellsing's scope had been broken during her trip to the surface.
"All right trader, I need a new scope for my spear gun", said Balalaika, giving the trader's counter a quick look.
"-I've got the best scopes in the metro", said the trader. "Metro-made, and pre-war. Take your pick."
Balalaika examined the three scopes the trader had on offer: a pre-war PSO-1 scope and two metro-made scopes. The former was often much better than the former, but it was always possible that pre-war scopes were damaged. Balalaika inspected each scope and saw that the PSO-1 had a crack across its lense. In the end, she settled for a metro-made scope.
"Thank you lady", said the trader as he pocketed Balalaika's bullets. Balalaika removed her broken scope from her weapon and fixed the new one onto it. Once this was done, she headed towards the tunnel that lead to Arbatskaya. Sometimes there was a motor cart that linked Kievskaya and Arbatskaya up, depending on how much fuel the Arbat Confederation had to run it, and today was such a day. She made her way to the cart and paid the fair (she gave the driver a dud bullet without even feeling any guilt whatsoever) before making herself comfortable on one of the seats. The guards in Arbatskaya wouldn't bother her, as it was only in Kievskaya that she had debts to pay off, so the trip to Polis would be an easy one.
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 20, 2011 12:53:22 GMT -5
It seems today was his lucky day the Arbat had their motorized trolley up and working. Which was rare, because normally they could not or would not pay for the parts to fix it most of the time. The cart would cut his travel time in half, if things went as planed in Polis he could return home to Belorusskaya by tomorrow if not sooner. He paid the toll and took his set and was surprised to find that the drunk woman from last night was also on the trolley. Didn’t she also say something about Polis during their "chat", he could not remember.
“Well, looks like we meet again Lady luck,” he said, “looks like your living up to your name.”
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 20, 2011 13:49:54 GMT -5
Balalaika was busy checking the pumping system of her Hellsing when she heard a somewhat familiar voice next to her.
“Well, looks like we met again Lady luck. Looks like your living up to your name.”
Balalaika looked up from her weapon and saw a dirty, rugged-looking man get into the trolley. She took some time to recognise him, as she had only seen him briefly in the bar last night, not to mention the fact she had been knocking back the booze.
"Oh, it's you", she said before loading small steel arrows into each of her gun's barrels. "So, going to Polis too? I'm going there to sell some stuff that other stations aren't really interested in. Mostly books and aah...something else", she said.
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 21, 2011 9:11:14 GMT -5
“Yeah,” he said taking a set on the cart, “for pretty much the same reason as you… I hope this rusty bucket doesn’t breakdown before we get there.”
He just wanted to get to Polis and make the delivery, so he could get home and return to his family. He had thought about getting out of the scavenging business but he could not bring himself to become a framer or even a trader. It was the excitement and thrill of going to the surface that kept him from quitting. In away he was addicted to the danger it was his job and this is what he would do till the day he died.
Soon a few more people joined them on the trolley and they got underway, they would be arriving in Polis very soon.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 21, 2011 12:01:22 GMT -5
As the trolley slowly made its way through the dimly lit tunnel, Balalaika couldn't help but give her bag protective looks. Its content was a lot more special than a bundle of old copper pipes and some ammo, far, far more special than that. She'd gone to a lot of trouble to get it, even risking her life exploring the museum where it was stored. Suddenly, the cart stopped as a guard armed with a Bastard machine-gun stepped out into the tracks and raised a hand.
"The tunnel ahead is blocked to all circulation due to toxic gas", he said, his voice echoing in the tunnel. "You'll have to take a maintenace tunnel that goes around this one."
Balalaika felt herself tense as the cart's driver muttered grumpily to himself. The cart was started again and made its way off the main tracks, its motor coughing and spluttering like a man with a bad cough. The maintenance tunnel was definitely not as well lit or in the same state as the main tunnel, and this made her nervous. Poorly lit tunnels were the perfect place for a mutant attack, and Balalaika unconsciously took her Helsing and pumped it up, its metal arrows flashing slightly in the dim light cast by the gas lantern that hung from the front of the motor cart.
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 22, 2011 3:54:18 GMT -5
"Fuck," he said to himself just as they entered the side tunnel, any number of things could kill them in the maintenance tunnel. That could be anything from mutants looking for lunch, Bandits looking for loot or even the so called voices of the dead or other strange phenomenon that occurred in the tunnels. Which was something Yuras feared more then Nosalis or thugs. The Metro was full of "haunted" tunnels and stations, that not even the rats dared venture. He had never believed in ghost and other paranormal activity until he traveled into a side tunnel near the VDNKh. At first it was not so bad just a normal dark, damp tunnel or it was until he passe some pipes that had been broken then he didn't know what happen. He just remembered coming to in the next station, some Ranges said that they had pulled him out of the tunnel and that he was shaking like a leaf and muttering something about the "voices". From then on he always avoided that side tunnel like the plague.
" Well looks like there is no rest for the wicked," he said as he brought his Saiga to bear, "I guess this is better then, being stuck there forever."
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 22, 2011 14:43:24 GMT -5
The cart trundled noisily through the mostly dark maintenance tunnel. A few spots of pale green light came from phosphorescent mushrooms and lichen. The driver kept casting nervous glances around him while Balalaika switched her headlight on and kept her Helsing ready for use. A soft, but stale breeze came from somewhere down the tunnel, probably due to a blast door opening somewhere at the end of it. Balalaika began to hum quietly to herself.
"Rastsvetali iabloni i grushi, Poplyli tumany nad rekoj...oh, what's this I hear?"
An odd grunting noise reverberated through the tunnel, followed by vicious roars and snarls. Balalaika immediately recognised the source of these sounds: Nosalises. The driver shouted something over the din and banged his fist on the motor of the cart.
"Keep the cart going!", yelled Balalaika to the driver. "We'll cover you!"
Balalaika turned to face the back of the cart and saw several Nosalises emerge from an old vent. They began to chase the cart, drawing closer with every minute. Balalaika gave her Helsing one last pump and took aim at the closest of the creatures before finally pulling the trigger. The arrow made barely more than a small whistle of air as it left its barrel and hit the Nosalis in the head. The creature was instantly killed and fell down. Its companions, however, continued to give chase, and Balalaika brought another one down.
"-We're almost at the end of the tunnel!", shouted the driver.
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