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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 23, 2011 0:06:49 GMT -5
"Damn mutants," Yuras hissed under his breath as he fired his semi-automatic shotgun, the round found it's mark in the back of one of the monsters skull. Three reports later and three more joined the first mutant, yet the other hungry black beasts took no notice of the their fallen comrades and continued to chase the cart with snapping maws. Despite both he and Balalaika working together the Nosalises kept coming and where slowly gaining speed on the motorized cart, they where like a mudslide of clawing, biting, death. He prayed that they would reach the station before they where completely overwhelmed.
"-We're almost at the end of the tunnel!", shouted the driver. Thank goodness, thought Yuras as he continued shooting, he could hear the station's bells and could see the lights up a head. They where going to make it. They sped up, reaching the guard post just in time to see the Arbatskaya guards ready it's main defense; a flamethrower.
Not even a second after the trolley passed they lit the weapon, the jet of fire illuminated the tunnel, burning and killing the on coming threat. Fire had been mans first weapon against his predators at the dawn of time and it now served as a means of protection even after his down fall.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 23, 2011 10:43:01 GMT -5
Balalaika shielded her face as a scorching wave of heat flooded the tunnel behind them. A flood of burning petrol hit the Nosalises before they could retreat, setting fire to them and filling the tunnel with the foul smell of burnt flesh. Balalaika heaved a ragged sigh and laughed.
"That was a close one", she said, before urgently looking for her bag. She sighed in relief when she saw it had not moved during the battle.
"-Yeah", said the cart driver. "Now let's get going. We're behind schedule."
The cart hiccoughed and set off again, soon leaving the maintenance tunnel and regaining the main one. Balalaika put her Helsing down next to her and took a small, dented metal case. A pre-war cigarette case she had salvaged in the remains of a house a couple of years ago. She took a small, battered cigarette out and lit up, taking heavy drags of tobacco smoke. Live fast, die young seemed to be what Balalaika was aiming for.
The cart made a brief stop in Arbatskaya, picking up two more people, one of whom was an old man who, like most men and women his age, knew a good deal about the old world. Balalaika engaged him in conversation and asked him about the museum she had visited on the surface. The old man told her it was called the Kremlin Armoury, a rather unoriginal name for a building located inside the Kremlin. Balalaika's trip to the museum had been insanely dangerous due to the Kremlin towers' infamous attraction they exerted on unwary travellers. The old man also told her that the Kremlin Armoury had once been home to the world's biggest collection of Fabergé Eggs.
Oh, it still is, old man, thought Balalaika as she glanced furtively at her bag. The journey from Arbatskaya to Polis was a quick one, and, after passing the military checkpoint, the cart soon arrived within one of Polis' four stations. As Balalaika hopped down onto the quay, she couldn't help but notice (again) how clean the walls in Polis were. The pre-war decorations were still perfectly visible, and the station they had arrived in was brilliantly lit with electric lighting, causing the short woman to shield her eyes slightly before her eyes got used to it all.
Once her eyes had grown accustomed to the light, she looked around her before walking briskly off. She needed to see the council, or someone in charge. She'd had enough of carrying this burden, and wanted to be rid of it as soon as possible.
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Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 23, 2011 22:35:00 GMT -5
“Rina, where are you going so early in the morning?”
“To the market! I want to see what sorts of things the scavengers have found on the surface!”
The woman who had called out to her paused in her task, smiling slightly. “You know Dimitri will never let you buy anything.”
Arina frowned at the reminder of her father’s strict rules. “Aw, why did you have to remind me? I was hoping you’d forgotten, Angela.”
The older woman gave her a wry smile that promised she would never forget. “Your papa has asked me to keep an eye on you when he’s away at work. I’d never forget.”
“Meh…” Arina pouted, though it didn’t seem to have any effect on the woman in front of her, so her pout—which was normally called ‘cute’ and was hard to resist—dropped to a frown again. Angela had a way with mentioning things nobody wanted to hear, but it was also in a way that told you she meant business, even if her words sounded kind.
She buckled under Angela’s gaze, and her frown deepened. “I won’t buy anything. I just want to look.”
“If you’ll recall last time you said that, you came back with a clock…”
“But it was so beautiful!”
“Dimitri wasn’t very happy, Rina.”
“Well papa shouldn't have to tell me what to do with the bullets I earn doing my job. Just like I don’t tell him what to do with the bullets he earns doing his job.”
“Now how many times have we had this conversation, Rina?”
“…Many. Anyway, I’m off!”
“Rina!”
Arina left the kitchens and Angela behind quickly, no longer wishing to hear her lectures. She was already nineteen, and she could take care of herself. It was disappointing that her father failed to see that. Ever since her mother had been killed all those years ago, he’d done his utmost to make sure that she never saw so much as a glimpse of any place beyond Polis.
The market was lively, as it had always been. A variety of noises filled the air as she shouldered carefully past the men, women and children that dotted the aisles, searching for one face in particular. Finally, she spotted a man with a graying beard with a pair of old, worn goggles around his neck. “Grigori!”
“Arina! I was wondering when you would come along!”
“I’m sorry. One of the ladies at the kitchen wouldn’t let me go. She was giving me a lecture about saving bullets and everything…”
The man gave her a toothy smile, one that she knew very well, which caused her to smile back. Grigori was always able to make her feel better after a lecture. “So what do you have today?”
“Well…I wasn’t able to scavenge much, but I did come across some fine china, a bit of jewelry, even a few books.” Grigori pointed things out as he told her, and she looked at everything laid out in interest. But her eyes stayed on one particular object. An old pocket watch, the brass showing slight age, but the glass covering the clock face was intact, as well as the cover. The chain was weathered, just like the brass, but still seemed sturdy enough.
Grigori noticed her interest in the device. “Ah, do you like it? Found it while I was returning to Polis. I managed to get the inner workings to start up again, as you can see.” The needles inside were moving, and her interest grew. But she was saddened when she realized that her father would be angry if she purchased it.
The older man noticed her dismay, reading her face silently, as he knew that her father was strict when it came to his daughter’s spending. A kind smile drew over his face, and he picked the watch up, holding it out for her. “Take it, Rina. I won’t charge you a thing.”
“Grigori, I couldn’t…”
“Think of it as an early birthday present.”
“Thank you!” Arina barely had anything from the surface from before the war, so she was thoroughly dazzled by the device in her hands. “Thank you, Grigori! I suppose I should be going. Papa wanted me to purchase some things for him today before he returned.”
“Go on, Rina. Best not hold your errands off for too long.”
She gave him a small wave before turning to walk deeper into the market, holding the watch securely in her hands.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 24, 2011 21:41:37 GMT -5
After getting off the cart and heading into Polis, Balalaika quickly found a member of the Brahmin caste, the last true keepers of wisdom and culture in the world. Balalaika cared little for books and all their fancy words, what she cared about was herself and staying alive, as well as money. The Brahmin caste had given her an insane joke of a job: to find and bring back to Polis one of pre-war Moscow's most precious objects, a Fabergé Egg.
Balalaika had no idea what or who Fabergé was, but the object she had found in the cursed ruins of the Kremlin had immediately caught her attention since it was quite literally coated with gold. Gold was an extremely rare material in the metro, and was only seen on old jewels and other precious objects some survivors had brought down with them during their flight from the bombings. Balalaika had never seen that much gold on a single object, and was pretty sure the egg outweighed every single gold watch or bracelet in the metro. She was also surprised that the object was still as pristine as ever despite the fact it had been left in a building mostly open to the harsh elements of the surface. Evidently, Balalaika had no idea that gold did not corrode like other metals did.
In any case, she wanted to be rid of the cumbersome object. It was too beautiful and far too dangerous for her to be carrying around. It could spark the greed and envy of others and expose her to humanity's worst instincts. It was a cursed object, and she made that quite clear in front of the Brahmins once she got to meet them. With determination in her stride, she extracted the object from her bag and plonked it down on the table before stepping back.
"Here's your stupid egg, Brahmin", she said, addressing the shaved and robed man who was sitting behind the table. The man's face underwent a genuinely surprising transformation, shifting from tranquillity to almost childish delight as he took hold of the egg and looked at it from ever angle.
"-So the stories are true...humanity's treasure is still in the Kremlin", said the Brahmin, looking at his fellow wise men and then back at Balalaika. "Did you see...did you see anything else up there?"
"-Yeah", said Balalaika gruffly. When were they going to spit out the bullets? "There were a few other things like that, but I was in a hurry. I just grabbed the closest one and ran."
Evidently, Balalaika's words did not truly convey the terror she had felt up in the Kremlin. The Kremlin's towers had seemed to exert a powerful, confusing aura, and Balalaika had forced herself not to look at them lest she decided to wander deeper into the building. The Kremlin had also seemed inhabited by a strange and frightening presence that she could feel all around her, prying and invisible.
"-Balalaika...you have already rendered humanity a huge service..."
"-Cough up the bullets, old man, you've no idea how dangerous it was to grab that fancy bauble of yours."
"-Oh well", said the Brahmin in a sad voice, as if Balalaika's complete disregard for what he'd been trying to get across had disappointed him. "Here is your payment."
The Brahmin put eight pristine AK-74 magazines on the table. All were fully loaded with military grade bullets, but Balalaika was rather disappointed. Only eight? The object and the risks she had taken to retrieve it seemed to be worth a lot more to her.
"Now...Balalaika. We need you to do one more job for us..."
"-I'm not going back to the Kremlin", snapped Balalaika, but the Brahmin merely looked at two of his younger companions who took hold of a small wooden crate that lay on the floor and put it on the table before opening it. Balalaika's eyes widened as she saw the contents: bullets, bullets and more bullets. Hundreds of them. She had never seen that much money in a single box. With this, she'd be able to pay her debts to Kievskaya three times over. Blinking, she looked at the Brahmin, speechless.
"Are...you...you've got to be shitting me, vek", she said. "All this? Really?"
"-Yes. We want you, Balalaika, to go back to the Kremlin and bring back ALL the eggs. They are very precious to us, and we are ready to pay you handsomely for it."
"-You're cruel", said Balalaika. Her greed had been aroused and it was burning away within her like an ardent flame. She wanted those bullets. "You're bloody cruel...I...all right, I'll do it."
"-I knew we would understand each other", said the Brahmin with a smile Balalaika could only describe as slimy.
_______________________________________
As Balalaika left the council room she felt feverish. So much money, and a semi-suicidal mission. Everyone who went to the surface knew about how dangerous the Kremlin was, and Balalaika had gone against all common sense and knowledge in her first incursion into the accursed fortress, and now she was about to do it all again. The eggs were also heavy and bulky. How would she transport them all? Her pack would already be mostly full with the stuff she needed to survive up top. Again she got the feeling that she was just a poor, desperate scavenger that the Brahmins were sending on a suicide mission, chasing after some old chimera from a fairy tale.
She needed a drink.
As she headed towards the closest bar, going through the station's market, she failed to see a young woman heading her way, and knocked into her. Jolted from her turbulent and fretful thoughts and still suffering from a hangover, Balalaika lashed out and snapped:
"Watch where you're going, kid!"
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 25, 2011 15:57:43 GMT -5
After making a quick stop at Arbatskaya and picking up two more people they arrived in Polis. Yuras promptly paid a visit to the Brahmans that had sent him to the surface to collect the copper. He was paid for the items he brought back and bid them farewell.
Polis had been his home for a few years and he had even gone out of his way to make sure that his son was born and spent the first year of his life here. However Yuras could not stand being in this place for long, it reminded him too much of his father and living in his shadow. For the two years before his father's death, the two of them had gotten to bond like never before, that made his death even harder for Yuras. What was more no matter how old he got or what he had accomplished both the Brahmans and the Kshatriyas would always refer to him as the son of Kostyantyn or child of Kostyantyn and never by his name or pseudonym even after his father's death.
He wandered the market area, every time he came here he would always try to find something for Alexei and Nikita. Both his son and wife loved any of the old pre war things that he returned with, books, clothing, jewelry it did not matter. He whet up to one of the stalls and looked at the wares that where for sale, two items immediately caught his attention: one was a Ushanka the other was a silver colored necklace with a simple teardrop shaped pendent. He picked up the hat and examined it; it was soft, most likely made of rabbit fur and look like it was meant for a child. Placing it back on the table he looked at the necklace, it showed no signs of rust or corrosion. "How much do you want for this and the hat," he asked the shopkeeper showing him the items.
"-Hmm…for you I'll part with them for two mags."
Yuras dug into his coat and placed the magazines on the table, it was a lot of bullets but he didn't worry much about finances, as long as he held a contract with Polis then money would never be a huge issue for him. He put the items into his pack and began to make his way out of the market; he had a long journey back to Belorusskaya a head of him. He did not fancy a return trip to Kievskaya, nor could he take the Grey Line due to Nazi controlled stations he would have to continue along Line 3 until he hit Kurskaya station. From there he would follow the Ring Line home. However just as he was getting ready to leave Polis someone called him from behind.
"-Son of Kostyantyn, please wait." the voice called and Yuras turned to face the man. With disgrace he noticed the young Brahman was at least ten years his junior, newly accepted in the caste,
"-What is it," Yuras answered gruffly he knew the Brahmans had another job for him.
"-The council wishes to see you, it's urgent."
The scavenger sighed and allowed the younger to lead him to the council room. Once there he was greeted by one of the high elders and was quickly briefed on his next job; accompany another scavenger into the Kremlin and retrieve the golden Fabergé Eggs.
"-I mean no disrespect sir," said Yuras carefully he knew that they could at any time revoke the contract he had with them, " but I don't think I'm the right person for the job, certainly there must be someone else."
"-Then perhaps your contract is up for discussion, there are many other stalkers who would be more then willing to take it, do you understand child of Kostyantyn?"
"-Yes I understand elder," he said bitterly the Brahmans knew exactly what strings to pull and when, "I will accompany the other scavenger and retrieve the artifacts."
"-Good, now go rest and prepare, you are doing humanity a great favor."
With that Yuras left the council room, he felt like a man walking to his own execution. They want him to go into the Kremlin of all places and all for some fancy gold eggs. They might as well had asked him to jump into the Moskva River and fish for pearls, and even that was probably safer then entering the Kremlin. The Kremlin was a forbidden, dangerous place, not meant to be looted or scavenged, it was a cursed place. He staggered to the bar and took a seat, he needed something to put his mind at ease.
"Good to see you again Ferret," said the owner of the establishment, Yuras had been here many a time and Aristarkh was one if not the only person in Polis that did not refer to him by his father, "something up? You look like you saw a ghost."
"-Yeah," he said stiffly as Aristarkh pored him a drink, " the Brahmans are sending me on a fucking suicide mission. They want me to join some crazy bastard to get some fancy trinkets from the Kremlin of all places on the surface."
"- And your contract won't let you turn down the job."
"-Yes…they hold that thing over my head and make me jump like a dog…God how I would love to pound in the face of the asshole that went into that accursed place…to bad I'll be partnered up with the bastard.”
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Post by Rie (CSF) on Jan 26, 2011 22:24:35 GMT -5
“Watch where you’re going, kid!”
“Watch where I’m going!? You were the one staring off into space!” She wouldn’t have some random stranger accuse her of having her head in the metaphorical clouds, when she was clearly spacing out. “Don’t blame me for things that are your own fault!” This was dangerous. She could see that this woman, who was clearly older than her, was armed, and in a foul mood. But being told she was at fault set off Arina’s desire to prove that she was wrong. She had seen the woman coming, even tried to step aside, but there hadn’t been enough room to avoid hitting her. It had been a simple misunderstanding, but her pride sought to blame this stranger.
Before the woman in front of her started spitting coals—because it was clearly obvious she was angry at Arina for blaming her—someone called her name from behind. “Arina!”
She looked over her shoulder to see Angela nudge her way past two people. “Rina, there you are. Your father is back. He’s been looking for you.”
“Papa is back? I-I see.”
“Have you completed your errands? He mentioned that he’d asked you to perform some.”
“I was on my way to do so…”
“You’d best hurry then. Dimitri wants to see you as soon as possible. He’ll be waiting at the bar.”
“Yes, Angela…”
Arina gave the rude woman in front of her one last look before waving to Angela, then passing the stranger by.
She went about her errands quickly, not wanting to keep her father waiting. He could be understanding, but he would also know she could have been dawdling instead of doing what he asked immediately.
She reached the bar half an hour later, immediately looking for her father. He would be hard to miss, as he was quite tall and somewhat imposing. She spotted a familiar man with dark hair and an old, worn coat with what she understood was Moscow’s flag sewn into the shoulder. “Papa!”
“Arina, my daughter!”
She immediately headed over to her father, who gave her a pat on the head, ruffling her hair like he had done ever since she was young. “Did you finish those errands I asked you to do?”
“Yes, Papa. Your supplies are back at the room.”
“That’s my girl.” He patted her head again. “So have you stayed out of trouble while I was gone?”
She knew this was a question to entertain a sort of conversation between them – he would have already asked Angela how she was and if she had been disobedient, in which case she would be promptly scolded the second they had some privacy.
“Yes, Papa…”
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 26, 2011 22:48:03 GMT -5
Balalaika sighed irritably as the young woman she had smacked into ran off to some other part of the station. Her mood had not been improved by this little encounter, and the fact that Balalaika would need at least two other people to help her grab the eggs did not make things any better. It all seemed impossible and hopeless. Who would even want to go to the Kremlin?
She entered a bar nearby and sat down heavily at an empty table. Her mood went from foul to morose, and she looked dejectedly around the smoky, crowded room for any prospective candidates. As she looked, she caught the sound of a familiar voice nearby.
"...the Brahmans are sending me on a fucking suicide mission. They want me to join some crazy bastard to get some fancy trinkets from the Kremlin of all places on the surface..."
Her curiosity piqued, Balalaika turned around in her chair to look at who was talking. She recognised the man from Kievskaya.
"...they hold that thing over my head and make me jump like a dog…God how I would love to pound in the face of the asshole that went into that accursed place…to bad I'll be partnered up with the bastard..."
Balalaika smiled craftily as she heard this. So it seemed like the eggheads had gotten someone to accompany her into the Kremlin. Smiling, she stood up, went over to the man and flung her arm around his shoulders.
"-I couldn't help but overhear your conversation", she said, relishing every second of it. "And it appears you got shoved into a lil' job with some crazy bastard to go to some insanely dangerous place...well, good news! The crazy bastard is in fact a crazy bitch, and I am that bitch."
She grabbed the man's chin and forced him to look at her, her face twisted into a cruel smile.
"I trust you'll enjoy your little trip with Balalaika!"
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 27, 2011 11:43:08 GMT -5
Yuras jumped slightly when someone came up behind him and put their arms around his shoulders, he recognized the haggard yet still feminine voice of the woman. His theory to who, was confirmed when she forced him to look at her, it was none other then "lady luck".
"So the old fart is trying to kill me," he said dully seeing that she was getting enjoyment from his discomfort, " Luck mixed with insanity, is a potent combination no wonder you got out of there alive."
"Now would you mind getting off of me? ," he continued, "my wife would not be pleased to know someone was hanging on me like a scarf," Moving his things a side he motioned for her to take a seat, “the names Yuras but I also go by Ferret."
Instead of using the Russian word for Ferret he used the English pronunciation, it was the only English word he could remember from when one of the Brahmans tried to teach him. He never was very good with foreign languages, nor did he ever care to ever learn one. His sister on the other hand loved them and he had put forth a halfhearted effort for her, but he never got too far. So to appease her he took on that nickname, after awhile it just stuck with him. “Now that we are partners why don't you tell me how you came a crossed the Brahman's new oddity or are you going to leave me dying of suspense?” he asked, “ I’d like to know exactly what I’m up against in there, I’m not too fond of surprises or dying for that matter.”
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 29, 2011 9:35:01 GMT -5
Balalaika laughed and ruffled Ferret's hair before stepping away from him and hoisting herself onto a bar stool.
"Well, it all started with a lone scavenger who happened to venture into the Kremlin, and saw something shiny. But he got scared and ran, and he later told the people here about what he'd seen. The old fossils in charge of the thinking part of Polis were immediately interested and sent him back, but he never returned."
As she spoke, Balalaika took some dried mushrooms out of her pocket and started chewing on them.
"Of course the Brahms could have sent a full ranger squad to grab this mythical pre-war treasure, but the military caste were opposed to this kind of hocus pocus, so all they could do was recruit crazy, desperate scavengers to go take a look in the Kremlin. I did some nosing around and it turns out they've already sent nine people to the surface to nab the loot, but none of them came back.
"So the Brahms heard about me. I have a reputation that tends to precede me wherever I go, so they heard about me being a crazy, greedy scavenger who'd already done the impossible several times before. So, before I knew what was happening I was dragged out of this very bar and put in front of the Brahms who said they'd pay me generously if I went to the Kremlin to retrieve the 'Fablijay eggs' or something. I already had some debts in several of the metro's station that I had to pay if I wanted to continue circulating freely, so I accepted...and here we are now."
Balalaika paused in her explanation to wave the bartender over and ask for a cup of tea. The VDNKh Commonwealth had a strong monopoly over the metro's "tea industry", so all "tea" came from there. Once she had her battered metal cup full of tea, Balalaika turned back to Ferret.
"In any case, we won't be able to grab all of the eggs, we need at least one more person. There's ten of the damn things, well, nine now that I took one of them, so the best way to divide them would be to have three eggs per person. They're pretty bulky too, so you'll have to choose your gear wisely with no excess stuff...if they don't fit, you'll have to chuck a few things away."
Balalaika looked up to the ceiling, as she often did when she was thinking.
"Trouble is, where can we find someone desperate enough to follow us into the Kremlin?"
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Post by blackpapermoon on Jan 31, 2011 0:43:45 GMT -5
Yuras sighed heavily, this trip was becoming even worse by the minuet. Nine people missing and the Kshatriyas refusing to send Rangers to aid them, this was going to be one hell of a raid. Balalaika had gone into and out of that unholy place once, but could she do it again? Well he was going to have to wait to find out. "Trouble is, where can we find someone desperate enough to follow us into the Kremlin?" she said looking up at the ceiling deep in thought.
"-I’m not sure either," he said honestly, " the bastards got me by my contract…all I can think of is someone who really wants to leave Polis badly and who in their right mind would do that right now.”
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jan 31, 2011 8:40:57 GMT -5
"Contract? You have one?", asked Balalaika before laughing. "Mujik, you have tied yourself down so badly with that."
She swallowed the mushroom, now reduced to wet mush, and put another one in her mouth. As she chewed, she tried to remember if anyone in Polis owed her anything. Maybe someone she'd saved a while back? Or someone who owed her bullets? Her memory stirred at the latter, and she picked her dirty nails thoughtfully.
"Someone in Polis definitely owes me money, and a lot of it", she said after a while. She looked at her nails again and then her hands, who were dirty as a mechanic's. She felt the sudden need to have a bath. "But who was it? I can't remember..."
She raised her eyes to the ceiling again, deep in thought. Was it Andrei One-Hand? Alexei Orumov? Or that crazy old bastard Dmitri the Gipsy? After much thought and digging around in memory lane, her mind clicked and she remembered who it was who owed her so much dosh.
"Aha! Now I remember...we might as well go find him and get ourselves some money. I don't remember his name very well, but I definitely remember his face..."
As she left the stool and turned around, she stopped, her eyes having caught sight of a tall and rugged man talking to a familiar-looking young woman. She looked at the man intently for a few seconds before a nasty smile twisted her lips.
"Well, looks like we won't have to go looking for his house. There he is", she told Ferret before making her way towards where the man and the young woman were talking. He seemed to be lecturing her on something, and the young woman was addressing him as "papa".
"Terribly sorry to interrupt your little chat, but I have business with you, comrade", she said, addressing the tall man. She flashed a crafty smile at the young woman before redirecting her attention to her apparent father. "I trust you remember me? I'm Anastasia Malenkov, although I'm more widely known as Balalaika. Some time ago we met at Prospekt Mira, and you bought something quite expensive from me. I told you you could pay me later since you didn't have enough bullets, so...I've come to collect my payment."
Even though this was Polis and people here tended to be less prone to violence than in other more disreputable stations, Balalaika still gently flipped a section of her coat up, exposing her belt. An APS Stechkin machine-pistol as well as a long and vicious-looking saw-toothed blade hung from it. She gently placed her hand on the pistol's grip before looking at the young woman again and smiling.
"So you're the devotchka who bumped into me earlier on. Sorry about that. I had some rather worrying things on my mind."
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Post by Rie (CSF) on Feb 24, 2011 11:35:39 GMT -5
((OMG a post? Yaaaay! Too bad it's short.)) “Papa, what is she talking about?” “Nevermind, dearest. Why don't you go home? I will meet you there soon.” “Okay...” Though Arina wasn't at all comfortable about leaving her father here with this woman, she had no choice; once he told her to do something, it was set in stone. With a courtesy nod to the woman, this 'Balalaika', she quickly made her way to their small hovel. *** Arina had spent the better part of an hour and a half pacing around their small home. She trusted that her father was alright, but this talk of 'payment' was what really scared her. She wasn't aware that her father had any sort of debts, being that he was such a straight-laced man. She was just contemplating going back to the bar when the door slid open, admitting her father and Balalaika. “Papa?” The smile that was on her face dropped when she noticed his grave expression. This couldn't possibly be good. He looked as though someone had just died; he looked possibly even more grave than when he had told her that her mother had been killed. “Dearest...” “What's wrong, papa?” “I am afraid...you must go with Balalaika.” “Papa...?” She didn't understand... “Please understand, Rina. There was no other way.” “At least explain to me why I have to go with her!”
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Post by blackpapermoon on Feb 25, 2011 14:53:15 GMT -5
Yuras waited outside of Dimitri’s home, he hated to see the young girl forced to come on this expedition but he also didn’t want to wait too much longer. Humans had spent so many years beneath the surface that the sun’s rays would blind them and burn their pale skin. Leave them defenseless to the world’s new masters, they didn’t have much time to lurk about the surface at night.
“I hate to interrupt,” he said after knocking on the door, “ but we need to leave soon if we have any hopes back before dawn."
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Feb 25, 2011 23:55:03 GMT -5
"Go now? Are you insane?", said Balalaika in answer to Ferret's concern. "We aren't even ready to go yet. We'll leave for the surface tomorrow night, and we'll probably have to spend a day on the surface too. Don't look at me like that, it's not impossible."
With that, Balalaika turned to Arina, who seemed confused and horrified at her father's decision.
"Now...Arina is it? I met your father a year ago or so, on the Ring Line. I was selling some stuff I'd brought back from the surface, and your father wanted to purchase something I had, but didn't have the money for it. I sold it to him anyway, and said he could pay me later. Now's the time to pay off his debts, but your father still can't afford to pay in bullets so, we made a deal. You'll work for me for a bit to pay off your father's debt."
She paused for a moment, glancing at Ferret and Arina's father.
"And that means you'll be going to the surface with me."
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Post by blackpapermoon on Aug 12, 2011 14:42:42 GMT -5
This was wrong, Arina was just a kid she had her whole life ahead of her. Yuras had a son and a legacy that would carry on his name should something happen to him. Besides the moral reasons there was another reason he did not want the young girl to come along, she was too green to be allowed to go on this mission. He and the other veteran stalker would be too busy watching out for Arina then their own hides, she would be the death of them up on the surface. What they needed was someone who could look out for themselves and knew of the possible dangers that faced them.
“No, she should stay here,” said Ferret, “she'll only be a hindrance to us; we need someone that is experienced if we want to make it out alive.”
“Come on comrade,” he said taking a hold of Balalaika's arm and pulled her out the door, “let him find some other way of paying off his debt.”
“I know someone that will be a better candidate for our mission,” he said now letting go of her arm, “this way I'll take you to him.”
Yuras lead the other scavenger to another makeshift hovel on the other side of the station. He knocked on the door but received no answer, however heavy snoring could be heard from in the structure. Ferret muttered to himself in Ukrainian before forcing the door open, on the bed lay a rather plump man with a hairy face, an empty bottle of Vodka sat not too far away from the drooling drunk.
“Hasn't changed a bit,” said the lanky dark haired stalker, “once he's sobered up, I'll get him to join us.”
“Bear,” said Yuras roughly shaking the man's arm until he awoke.
“-w..what..hu…oh Ferret how's the wife and kid,' said the drunk groggily reaching for a new bottle.
“-Well, look I need to ask a favor…”said Ferret then explained the predicament that he and Balalaika had found themselves in. “- That is quite the favor…been wondering who they were going to send next,” said the old scavenger scratching his neck, “ I'm retired been so for almost thirteen years.”
The man sighed before continuing, “I'm going to regret this but I'll come with you, your father was a good friend he would have wanted me to come.”
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