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Post by CaptainNips on Jul 19, 2012 7:34:46 GMT -5
"You do not belong here! You should be shot for trespassing!" a Red officer yelled as he tried to push Mikhail outside the Red boundary. The officer prodded the burly man with his rifle while Mikhail held a look of innocence upon his face. "And stay out!" the officer exclaimed as he took a final shove. Mikhail stumbled and cursed under his breath, "Asshole..." The officer turned and yelled once more, "What was that?!" Mikhail waved his hand dismissively and proceeded to light a metro-made cigarette. This... is Komsomolskaya. It is a Ring station shared with the cruel Reds which means that there is constant bickering. Whether it is about trade rights, boundary rights, or even if one side has a larger supply of tobacco, the two will always be argueing. Mikhail himself has earned a reputation with several Red officers, the fact that he works for the Hansa makes his relations even worse.
Mikhail scratched his manhood and blew a train of smoke into the dusty air. Komsomolskaya was almost devoid of people that day, leaving only the beggars and drunkards skulking around the halls. Komsomolskaya really was a beautiful station. Upon the walls and roof there were many mosaics from the days of old. One of which was a mosaic depicting a Soviet division throwing down a Nazi banner in front of Lenin's mausoleum. Komsomolskaya itself has much recorded Soviet history which is why it is one of the most revered Red line stations.
I need some refreshment, Mikhail thought and shrugged to himself, Why the hell not? I haven't had some good alcohol in ages.
He then walked faster down the hall and occassionally tossed some spare bullets to poor beggars. When he reached the bar, Mikhail took a seat near the counter and set his AK-74 against his leg. The bar was dark and only illuminated by the candles on each table. This particular bar boasted that they had quality pre-war alcohol in stock. However, the drinks tastes wouldn't often live up to the customers expectations. A stout bartender then stepped over and looked questioningly at Mikhail.
"I'll take a vodka," he ordered. "Anything for you, Mikhail," Pyotr answered. He then handed a clay mug to the stoic man and poured in some vodka.
There were two old men seated not far from Mikhail. The table was lit by a single candle and there many used mugs before the men. The two were speaking rather loudly due to their near drunkenness.
"What did you do before the war?" one man asked "Nothing special. I was a car salesman. How about you, Artem?" the man answered. "Huh? Oh... I worked at a military warehouse not far from Komsomolskaya," the man named Artem answered.
Mikhail's ears perked up during this conversation. He paused in his drinking and listened further to hear what else the men might say.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jul 21, 2012 5:05:37 GMT -5
Living alone for weeks, even months on end with only yourself for company often meant that Nadya had only her memories and thoughts to entertain herself. In her previous life, the one before the bombs had wiped civilisation from the face of the Earth, she had lived by a simple but effective maxim: do not dwell on the past. She had followed that maxim every day of her life, refusing to give her past too much thought. Doing so would have brought nostalgia into her life, and with it regret, two things Nadya wished to avoid.
Now, though, her old life was gone, incinerated and blown away like the rest of humanity's achievements and dreams. Her new life in the bowels of Moscow had also gone tremendously wrong, turning her into an outcast, a monster demonised and feared by hundreds. Her mutant genes put fear in the hearts of men, fear of pollution and decay, fear of degeneracy. Fear of losing the only thing left to them: their humanity.
And so, Nadya was left by herself. Nobody to talk to, nobody to befriend or love, nobody to hate. All she had was herself, her thoughts and her memories. Now she spent days on end thinking about the past, her old dreams brutally crushed, her family extinguished forever. Sometimes, when the crushing weight of loneliness and despair was too unbearable even for her own weathered soul, she would slip away from the present and lose herself in the maze of memory. She would relive parts of her previous life a thousand times, like an actor in a play filled with ghosts and shadows. She would laugh, she would cry. Her voice would echo in the darkness of the tunnels.
But she would always be alone.
Sometimes, Nadya would break out of her exile and venture into an inhabited station. Usually she would only go into the smaller ones, where there were fewer people to recoil in horror from her deformity. On other, rarer occasions, Nadya would go into a bigger station, her face and eyes concealed by a hood. On such adventures, Nadya would bathe in the warm, busy glow of human activity and presence. She would listen to every little conversation, no matter how banal, enjoying the sound of human chatter and language, something she was usually deprived of.
This time was no exception. She walked up through the tunnel, up to Hansa's checkpoint. She gave them her worn passport and, as a sign of trust, showed them her mutation. The guards were uneasy about letting her in, but the fact that they knew she would be there meant they could easily hunt her down if something went wrong. After a quick discussion with the guards, Nadya was let into the station, her hood hanging over her snake-like eyes.
As she left the darkness of the tunnel, Nadya was immediately struck by the brightness of the lights. The white light of electric bulbs stabbed through her sensitive eyes, temporarily blinding her. She fumbled for a pair of old sunglasses and put them on, immediately diminishing the cruel intensity of the glare.
Then came the noises. Human voices. Guards barking orders and laughing at salacious jokes, children laughing and shouting, their footsteps echoing through the station. Nadya stopped and looked around her, taking in the sights and sounds. Here a merchant sold grilled pig meat, hot meat sizzling on a grill made out of half a metal barrel, grease spitting upwards. She saw a weaponsmith working behind his wooden counter, tinkering with various weapon parts, metallic clinking and clanging amidst coarse male chatter.
Nadya suddenly felt overwhelmed by all this human activity. She felt like a walking corpse wandering in the world of the living. All of it became unbearable, and she sought refuge in a small bar. Once inside its smoky interior, she went to a quiet section of the counter, sitting down on a rickety stool, and ordered some vodka.
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Post by CaptainNips on Jul 21, 2012 6:26:15 GMT -5
Mikhail casually extinguished his cigarette on an ash tray before him. He barely noticed the hooded figure enter the smoky bar. All of his attention was fixed upon the two old men. The tempting phrase loomed over Mikhail teasingly.... Military Warehouse. This could be his chance to strike it big! If he could attain all the valuables inside such a warehouse, Mikhail could support his dying father and pay off many "debts" he owed to certain people. The "debts" that he owed were one of the reasons why Mikhail joined the Hansa. But unfortunately, the Hansa couldn't protect Mikhail from all the dangerous people he owed bullets to.
"A military warehouse? Quite a job," the other man said. "Yep," Artem answered, "My assignment was to load and carry off missile crates from the supply trucks. I hated-" "Missiles?" the man interrupted loudly. Artem nodded, "We mostly held guns and ammunition though. The main bulks of the missiles were held in very... confidential areas." Mikhail could hold in his rising interest no longer. He turned to the old men and inquired, "Where was this warehouse again?" Artem turned and scratched his head, "Huh? Oh let me see... Go north on the main road next to Komsomolskaya Square. The warehouse should be next to a winding crossroad. You can't miss it." "Spasiba," Mikhail thanked the man.
Artem nodded and returned to his previous conversation. Mikhail dug into his messenger bag and brought out his map of pre-war Moscow. The map was withering with age and already had many pencil markings scratched onto it. It was once a tourist map given to Mikhail by his best friend and mentor, Dmitri Borovsky. He then traced a pencil along the main road and circled the crossroads where the Warehouse was claimed to be.
Shouldn't be too hard of a journey, Mikhail thought, I will grab the supplies and run back home safe and sound. Easy.
After consuming the rest of his vodka, Mikhail stood up, slung his AK over his shoulder and left 2 bullets on the bar counter.
"Thanks for the vodka Pyotr." Pyotr took the bullets and asked, "Where you off to now, Mikhail?" Mikhail turned and, after a short pause, he answered with a boyish grin, "To claim lost treasure."
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Post by The Karcolith on Aug 24, 2012 13:41:13 GMT -5
"Hey you, yeah you." Shouted a slightly drunk man to Oleg who was quietly enjoying a drink. The man made his way to where Oleg was sitting and leaned on the table making it rock heavily, nearly spilling Oleg's dink.
"Can I help you?" He asked the man, his voice quiet and menacing, not liking the sudden intrusion.
Slapping down an old map, the drunken man pointed to an area many knew, but nearly no one ever entered. The MSU or Emerald City as it was known.
"I heard a little rumour that a way into the university has become clear, you have to cross the river at just the right time of day. It's all in here." The man said tapping a small ledger on the table, dropping it clumsily onto the floor. Groaning as he picked it up and thumbed through it finding a page and showing it to Oleg, the page did indeed note an article on tidal change.
"This is about the ocean." Oleg said reading the verse in the book, "The river isn't mentioned, besides the water in that river is probably dammed in. But what the hell. How much?" Oleg inquired, thinking the man would want bullets in exchange for the information.
"Want... why would I want something?" The drunkard asked, genuinely confused by the question, with that said he staggered off again slumping against the wall to continue his drinking.
Oleg continued looking through the book hoping to find more information but was dissapointed to find the book was largely water damaged and missing pages.
Dropping it on the table and looking around the bar studying a few of the people milling about he let his gaze fall on a man who was just leaving, what he said intrigued Oleg, something about lost treasure, was it related to his own little treasure hunt he intended to go on soon.
Stuffing the book into the pack, or so he thought he rushed out after Mikhail to ask about this treasure, moving past partons, he accidentally bumped into a smaller person by the bar, the book fell from his pack, helping the person he inadvertently knocked over he went to apologise but was stunned by her eyes.
"Sorry." He muttered quickly, placing 5 bullets on the bar and left after Mikhail.
Walking quickly he came across him still with in station's confines, making his way beside him he asked him about his treasure hunt.
"Excuse me, I don't wish to intrude but what was that treasure you mentioned?" Oleg asked.
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Post by CaptainNips on Aug 25, 2012 9:54:43 GMT -5
Mikhail turned his head to the stranger curiously. The two men stood a few feet away from the bar entrance. Mikhail looked up at the tall man, not used to being looked down upon. The stranger was obviously a veteran.
"Eh? Oh that..." he paused and rubbed his shaved head.
"There's an old military warehouse not far from Komsomolskaya. I'm headed there."
Mikhail pauses again, this time lighting a new cigarette. "You interested? I could use some extra muscle up there..."
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Aug 30, 2012 10:06:13 GMT -5
Nadya listened in silence to the various conversations she could hear in the bar. Two men were discussing the fantastical possibility of a new kind of headless psychic mutant, a rehash of a story Nadya had heard many times before. A tall man with the look of the vagrant about him was accosted by a drunkard, and Nadya heard the Emerald City being mentioned. Another folk tale? She wasn't quite sure, to be honest. Nobody had been close to Moscow State University for two decades, and Nadya knew why. The grounds around the university had become heavily irradiated, turning the area into a death zone for anyone brave enough to try and cross.
Some however spoke of other ways. Tunnels built in the Cold War, cleverly concealed in the Metro and the urban wasteland on the surface...
Nadya's idle thoughts were roughly interrupted when someone knocked her off her stool. She hit the floor with a grunt and swore, looking up at whoever had bumped into her. She recognised the vagrant from earlier and cringed as he looked straight into her eyes. Instead of alerting the bar to her presence, though, he simply muttered a quick apology and left, picking up a moldy old book from the floor as he did so.
With a grunt, Nadya stood up and looked at the damage: her vodka had been spilled over her legs, soaking her grubby trousers. Noticing the stares that she was drawing, she decided to leave, hastily heading for the exit. As she left the drinking establishment, she pushed past the vagrant and another man, briefly catching the word "treasure" as she went past, trying hard to keep her eyes down and her hood up.
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Post by The Karcolith on Sept 3, 2012 2:58:20 GMT -5
"Of course I'm interested, who knows what else we might find." Oleg said, "In turn, I might have some work that you might be interested in. But for now we can focus on this military warehouse. I'll follow you."
As they started to walk, the same lady he'd accidentally knocked over in the bar rushed past head down, clearly avoiding eye contact with anyone. Which in it's own funny way seemed to attract attention.
"Hey, wait up." He called, wishing to apologise properly this time.
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Post by CaptainNips on Sept 3, 2012 4:15:59 GMT -5
Mikhail nodded and started to walk towards the exit with Oleg.
"Hey, wait up," Oleg called, facing a short statured stranger.
Mikhail simply stood there aloof, his hands on his hips.
What could he want with a hooded stranger, he thought, Ah well... the warehouse isn't going anywhere.
Mikhail then sighed and rubbed his shaved head once more.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Sept 3, 2012 4:55:00 GMT -5
Nadya snapped around, alarmed that someone was actually following her. She was attracting far too much attention. The whip scars on her back were a testimony to what happened when she attracted too much attention. She had to get out of here quickly.
"What?", she asked, turning to face the man following her. He was the same man who'd knocked her over and the same guy who'd been discussing this mysterious "treasure" with some other mujik in the bar's entrance. "Look, I don't have much money and I didn't come to your station to cause trouble. I just need food and ammunition and then I'll be gone. The guards allowed me in."
Nadya tensed and assumed a defensive position, ready to make a run for it at the first sign of trouble. Her heart missed a beat when she caught a glimpse of a gang of men wielding sticks and cudgels slowly making their way towards her position.
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Post by CaptainNips on Sept 3, 2012 5:06:48 GMT -5
Mikhail remained silent, expecting Oleg to speak. This lady was skittish and obviously not liked in other stations. Mikhail exhaled another trail of smoke as he noticed the stranger look off somewhere behind them. He turned around to see several gruff men, armed with pathetic primal weapons, coming towards them.
"Shit," he cursed and turned to his companion.
"I think we have some unwanted company," he mumbled.
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Post by The Karcolith on Sept 3, 2012 9:15:00 GMT -5
"I don't any trouble either..." Oleg started but looked around, they had gained the attention of someone and they were coming over to investigate. Shit, he thought.
Stepping closer he said quickly and quietly. "Why not join us, we're going to an old military warehouse, plenty of loot to go around."
Taking two more steps he standing beside Nadya, jolting his right shoulder his Groza fell into his waiting hand. More than a match for the gang now rather close but had halted at Oleg's action.
"If you have a problem with one of my companions, I'm more than happy to settle it here or out of the station." Oleg said meeting the eyes of each of the men in the group. The tension made the scenario stretch onwards for what felt like eternity.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Sept 3, 2012 9:47:37 GMT -5
Nadya was about to flee when the stranger stepped between her and the mob. In a split second, he had a gun in his hand, something compact and ugly that looked like an assault rifle. She felt a lump grow in her throat and sweat bead on her skin. The man's offer was almost lost to her in the panic she felt, but her brain did register something about a warehouse and loot.
"Whoa man, he's got a gun", said one of the men in the mob, a scrawny young man with a plank for a weapon. Definitely not a match for the two men who seemed to have taken an interest in Nadya's condition. Another larger man carrying a vicious-looking nail bat in his thick, calloused hands eyed Nadya malevolently before turning to her impromptu protectors.
"Step aside, brother", he said, "we know what she is. She's mutant scum, and her kind aren't welcomed here."
Nadya looked around her for any sign of the station's guards. She saw two of them nearby, but they seemed to be ignoring the situation. Typical.
"Look, I'll just leave the station, okay?", she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She could already picture her two defenders stepping aside, the cries of hatred, being beaten to the ground and dragged off to be dumped in the nearest exit tunnel, bruised and bleeding. "I'll just turn around and leave. I don't want any trouble. I won't come back either, I swear!"
"Y'know what happened to the last guy like you who slimed his way into this station?", said Mr Nail Bat before nodding at something behind Nadya. She turned around and saw a rickety metal structure built on the station's platform, a structure from which there hung two ropes.
Ropes with nooses.
"Oh shit", breathed Nadya, terror stabbing her heart with its icy blade. She turned to glance at her protector and hissed urgently: "If you get me out of this mess, I'll follow you on your warehouse expedition, no matter how dangerous it is."
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Post by CaptainNips on Sept 3, 2012 18:28:44 GMT -5
Mikhail watched the situation at hand calmly. He glanced at Oleg then at the supposed mutant.
"... I`ll follow you on your warehouse expedition, no matter how dangerous it is."
Mikhail looked towards Nadya, sighed and extinguished his cigarette underneath his boot. The man then drew out his wicked looking bowie knife.
"I ain`t wasting ammo on these suki," Mikhail remarked.
He then glared at Mr. Nail Bat, "You trying to fuck with us? You want me to poke you full of holes?"
Mikhail continued his steady glare and stroked his blade ominously.
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Post by The Karcolith on Sept 3, 2012 20:30:44 GMT -5
"Brother? I am not your brother by a long shot, swine." Oleg said, his eyes were still locked on the the large man, obviously the leader of the mob. "Step aside or I'll waste your worthless hide."
The man was standing fast despite not having much chance of succeeding with his attack.
Thinking quickly on on how he could sway the group, he dawned that his left hand was still mostly blackened from the torture he'd received from the Reich.
Still holding the Groza with his right hand, he shook his left hand to loosen the glove until it fell from his hand, revealing the blackened hand.
"If you have a problem with people who are different, you can start with me, and I have intention of swinging from a noose." Oleg said, secretly pleased that several members of the mob were now backing away, knowing it was a fight they couldn't win, "I'll gladly die to keep the Metro free of scum like you, are you?" He added his eyes boring into the leaders own.
The large man went to reply but stuttered.
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Post by bawls34 on Sept 3, 2012 22:12:09 GMT -5
"These papers are out of order!" exclaimed the Red Line officer at the gate leading from the Communist sector of Komsomolskaya. Dmitri shifted his M44 Mosin-Nagant on his shoulder as he attempted to talk to the Red officer "Comrade, your revolutionary allies do not often have the opportunity to update their papers, and for good reason, we spend a good deal of time assisting in your patriotic war against the fascists!" said Dmitri, appealing to their common ground with a hint of the communist fervor the average red liner ate right up. This officer seemed to be having a bad day however, "This does not excuse you from maintaining the proper identification, for all i know you could be a fascist spy yourself, or maybe one of these Hanza pigs!" he yelled, motioning to one of his subordinates. "Now comrade, i know theres someone here who can vouch for me..i served in the Krasnye Vorota garrison at one time.." countered Dmitri, wondering what would happen next. "once but no longer? a deserter! arrest this man!" said the officer as his subordinate leveled a rifle at Dmitri.
"That will be enough, Comrade Yushenko..." came a gruff voice from behind Dmitri. "Tovarisch Komandir!" said the officer, as he and his subordinates snapped to attention. Dmitri turned to see his old friend, Commissar Makarov, standing in his full uniform, a smirk on his face as he began to berate the officer. "quite an accusation especially to be made without consulting your local politruk, who also happens to be the acting commander of the local garrison...". "of..of course comrade...my..my mistake.." said the officer, defeated, he saluted before turning to slink away to his guard post. "An officer of the Red Army..pah!" said Makarov as he extended his hand to Dmitri. "Comrade, it's good to see you, i didn't think you had made it back from the front lines already?" commented Dmitri as he shook his old friend's hand.
"I've been rotated out, i don't think they want one of their only competant officers wasted on the front lines so quickly, and as you can see, the replacements are a little...overzealous..." said Makarov. "Ah, i know, where do they find these ones..." laughed Dmitri. The two traded a few quick stories before Makarov finally looked at his watch "Well, i'd love to stay and chat, but, duty calls..." lamented Makarov. "Take care comrade..." replied Dmitri, shaking his friend's hand once more before turning and walking towards the gate. "oh! and comrade!" Makarov spoke as Dmitri walked, Dmitri looked over his shoulder to see Makarov pointing past the gate "keep your wits about you, looks like those Hanza dogs are all riled up today!" finished Makarov, Dmitri looked to his front to see a large gang surrounding a few other metro denizens. "wonder what this is all about.." thought Dmitri as he strode towards the confrontation. "I'll gladly die to keep the Metro free of scum like you, are you?" Dimitri heard one of the outnumbered men comment, his voice dripping with venom as he held a blackened hand aloft.
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