Post by CaptainNips on Apr 25, 2013 8:15:15 GMT -5
The year is 2034. A nuclear spring has come upon the surface. New mutants stalk the dead city, and the first true rays of sunlight can be seen. For once the lone stalker can see grass! Grass! This new change of events has brought hope to all denizens of the Moscow Metro. Hope that someday Man could return to the surface, and be free of the perilous radiation. To be free of all scars of the old nuclear war. But some changes... are for the worst.
War is brewing in the Metro. The Fourth Reich has declared itself the superior faction. The Reich will stop at nothing to achieve dominance throughout the Metro. And the odds are not particularly with Polis or the Hansa... the Fourth Reich has secured and gain control of several cordons in D-6, the coveted and secret military facility within the Metro. The Reich now has access to the most deadly weapons remaining in this scorched world...
Their leader, who calls himself the Fuhrer, preaches Nazi victory and triumph. He preaches of a Final Charge, one to end all wars and assimilate the Reich as the ultimate, ruling power.
This is the Dawn of the Crusade.
* * *
Deep beneath the barren surface, Pushkinskaya is bustling with a great fervour. Lines upon lines of men file up to an armory, each common soldier being given an assault rifle or submachine gun. Men load ammo boxes and mount Percheneg machine guns onto rail cars. An engineer does his finishing touches to an authentic military T-90, found inside D-6. The Fourth Reich is preparing for war...
Viktor Kovalenko stood on the platform, looking broodingly at the busy soldiers, hands behind his back. He wore a long, grey trench coat and grey officer cap. At his side was a TT-33 handgun with an iron cross grip. The Nazi officer, presumably in his 40's, had high cheekbones and had cold grey eyes. Viktor's cold stare often made all soldiers uncomfortable. It felt as if he stared into your soul, as if he knew what you were thinking... making you believe he was the higher being. There was only one person that Viktor was humble too... a person whom he lowered his piercing stare. The Fuhrer.
Well... I never thought I'd see the day, Viktor thought, The Fourth Reich will be victorious. Polis will fall first, under fire and our biological weapons. Then... the Ring Line and those idiotic communists. And eventually, the whole Metro will be under our grasp.
Viktor looked around and shifted in stance. Each soldier was heavily trained and ready for battle. They were ready for whatever the Metro factions had to throw at them.
A short, almost lemon-faced Nazi captain approached Viktor, stuttering as he spoke. "The Fuhrer seeks your presence, Commandant. He'll be making his speech soon."
Viktor looked at the Captain up and down then replied, "Very well. Lead the way, Captain."
The captain nodded and led Viktor to the Fuhrer. They struggled through the crowds as an announcment blared.
ALL PERSONNEL ARE NOW ORDERED TO REPORT TO THE GRAND HALL. REPEAT, ALL PERSONNEL TO THE GRAND HALL.
The two nazi officers then reached a back room, right next to the Grand Hall stage. The Fuhrer stood by, arms crossed and murmuring to himself. Several guards were posted around the room.
Viktor straightened his stance and saluted, "My Fuhrer."
The Fuhrer turned his head and nodded to Viktor, "At ease, Commandant."
Viktor relaxed and surveyed the area. He could hear the thump of boots in the Grand Hall as the soldiers congregated to hear their leader speak. He turned his gaze back to the Fuhrer and inquired, "You requested my presence, sir?"
"That I did. You have done me a great service in the past, Viktor... you fight with honor, dignity and show no mercy to our enemies."
"Thank you, my Fuhrer. I simply do what is justified."
The Fuhrer nodded and stated, "Indeed. I am appointing you coordinator of operations, my right-hand man throughout this campaign. You shall command my men and moderate their movements. Understood? Know that this is a great honor... I rarely offer such a rank."
"Yes, my Fuhrer. I shall not disappoint. I know we shall be victorious."
The crowd outside grew restless and many began chanting and stamping their boots.
FUHRER! FUHRER! FUHRER!
The Fuhrer looked out onto the bright stage, "Looks like it's time. Come, my Commandant, I'd like you by my side as I speak."
Viktor nearly blushed as he followed his prestiged leader onto the stage. The stage was brightly lit and a wooden podium placed in the center. The whole Grand Hall was roaring in cheer. Long, red swastika banners hung from the walls. The Fuhrer approached the podium, Viktor standing not far beside him. He tried to keep a commanding expression in front of the Reich army, being next to the Fuhrer himself and all.
The Fuhrer waved his hand in the air to silence the cheering soldiers. He then spoke in a great voice into an old microphone...
"Fellow soldiers, brothers, and citizens of the Fourth Reich. You have all come forth today to witness our great alliance ascend into glory and utterly endless power!”
The huge crowd let out a big cheer. The Fuhrer continued...
“ALL of our training and preparation has led to this day. The day we assert ourselves as the true and rightful power in the Metro. All the weak shall be trampled under our path of war! We shall demonstrate that ONLY true Russian power can lead to victory! It is today that we turn that vision into reality! Glory to the Reich!"
The Nazi horde saluted and chanted.
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA! (Glory! Glory! Glory!)
The Fuhrer grinned, seeming to feed off of the endless chants and salutes.
"The days of reckoning are coming! Days when we will demonstrate to all of the Metro our might, will, and unstoppable force. The mission of the Reich is coming to a logical, just, and victorious climax! Glory to the Reich!”
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA!
"But those days are just beginning... No, they are in their infancy! But very soon we shall march upon Polis itself and the rest of the Metro! With our newfound military firearms, missiles and biological weapons, we WILL be victorious! We shall rain fire upon our enemies! Just like the fire that burned our world twenty years ago! Glory to the Reich!
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA!
The Fuhrer pounded his fist on the podium, his speech becoming stronger and more passionate.
"Too long have we been pushed back by our foes! Too long we have feinted our victory! We now have the Sword of Justice and now we must strike it! We shall make a Last Conquest into the Metro! An Ultimate Battle! The Last Crusade to ultimate victory! Glory to the Reich, my soldiers! Glooorrrry to the Final Crusade!"
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA!
The army of the Reich chanted Glory wildly then erupted into great cheer.
"Now go forth my warriors! Win me the Metro and I'll win you freedom and justice!"
The horde cheered for the Fuhrer and waved their guns in the air. After a few seconds the aemy dissipated and went onto the platforms.
The Fuhrer sighed, excessively sweating. Viktor spoke, "A great speech, my Fuhrer."
"That it was, Viktor... that it was. Now run off... prepare the men. You'll only advance on my orders, I want to see how Polis reacts soon..."
The Fuhrer walked towards the backstage entrance then turned back, "Ah yes, seek out Captain Aleksander Novikov. He'll be leading the frontline troops. Contact him when I give the order to attack, we have a couple hours at least. Understood?"
Viktor nodded and departed for the platform. Nearly every trooper was now inspecting his rifle and beginning to group up with his unit.
We attack in a couple hours? Shit... we must attack now! Enough of this pointless waiting... the Fuhrer must act now, before Polis can’t land a lethal strike on us... they will soon know of our weapons of destruction.
Viktor stoically stood and looked over the crowd, searching for Novikov.
He shouted, "Novikov! Aleksander Novikov!"
Where is he... I bet our message is already being made in Polis... I must speak to him quick.
* * *
Meanwhile, in Polis...
Polis life was going as smoothly as always... envoys arrived in rail cars laden with rare goods, Rangers guarded the gates loyally and the Council blathered on uselessly. Even the ever-paranoid traders seemed to have no ill news. But one thing... was amiss.
A black coated man walked steadily along the tracks, showing a particular interest for a small tower not far beside him. Atop the towers, large speakers were placed for station-wide announcements. The man looked all around, seeing no one watching, and quickly sidestepped into the tower’s entrance. He walked peeked around the corner and walked up the small set of stairs to the top of the tower.
The stairs led to the top room... various radio equipment was placed along a wooden table, along with a record player connected to the large speakers. The radio man sat on a creaky chair, his back to the mysterious man. The black coated man took two cautious steps forward and poked the radio man. The man only gave out a loud snore in reply and shook his head. The black coated man, relieved, then walked to the wooden table and withdrew what seemed like a record from his pocket. He removed an old propaganda record from the record player and replaced it with his own new disk.
The man put the needle in place and played the record. As soon as he finished doing so, he sprinted down to the stairs and out of the tower, beginning to blend in with the crowd.
The same recorded message would be blaring across all Polis and Ring Line stations, all saboteurs suddenly fading away just as they came. The voice... was the Fuhrer’s.
Attention, people of Polis and the Ring Line. How long have your leaders eluded you? Taken advantage of your needs and Russian rights? They feed off of your own tax and misery. Those cruel people only seek their own personal gain. No longer can you people sit by and let these cretins take advantage of you. Therefore, it is my honor to address to you, that the Fourth Reich will be declaring war on Polis and the Hanseatic League. We seek to end this injustice and bring true Russian power to the Metro. But remember, we do not mean to cause bloodshed on the common people, the Fourth Reich is not your enemy. This is merely a battle between our leaders. The leaders of the Hansa and Polis send you out to fight a war you cannot win.
Many Polis officials looked around frantically, eventually spotting the radio tower.
“Turn it off! Turn it off now!” one official shouted.
The propaganda continued...
I repeat, the Fourth Reich is not your enemy, this is a fight you cannot win. The Fourth Reich is the automatic victor. We have numerous weapons of destruction and biological chemicals to use against you if need be. I repeat, we shall attack with our biological weapons should you resist and fail to surrender...
Large crowds had gathered to hear the propaganda, many looking terror stricken. The populace was restless, the propaganda must be stopped or a riot could arise.
Within the crowd... a black coated man could be seen... smiling...
War is brewing in the Metro. The Fourth Reich has declared itself the superior faction. The Reich will stop at nothing to achieve dominance throughout the Metro. And the odds are not particularly with Polis or the Hansa... the Fourth Reich has secured and gain control of several cordons in D-6, the coveted and secret military facility within the Metro. The Reich now has access to the most deadly weapons remaining in this scorched world...
Their leader, who calls himself the Fuhrer, preaches Nazi victory and triumph. He preaches of a Final Charge, one to end all wars and assimilate the Reich as the ultimate, ruling power.
This is the Dawn of the Crusade.
* * *
Deep beneath the barren surface, Pushkinskaya is bustling with a great fervour. Lines upon lines of men file up to an armory, each common soldier being given an assault rifle or submachine gun. Men load ammo boxes and mount Percheneg machine guns onto rail cars. An engineer does his finishing touches to an authentic military T-90, found inside D-6. The Fourth Reich is preparing for war...
Viktor Kovalenko stood on the platform, looking broodingly at the busy soldiers, hands behind his back. He wore a long, grey trench coat and grey officer cap. At his side was a TT-33 handgun with an iron cross grip. The Nazi officer, presumably in his 40's, had high cheekbones and had cold grey eyes. Viktor's cold stare often made all soldiers uncomfortable. It felt as if he stared into your soul, as if he knew what you were thinking... making you believe he was the higher being. There was only one person that Viktor was humble too... a person whom he lowered his piercing stare. The Fuhrer.
Well... I never thought I'd see the day, Viktor thought, The Fourth Reich will be victorious. Polis will fall first, under fire and our biological weapons. Then... the Ring Line and those idiotic communists. And eventually, the whole Metro will be under our grasp.
Viktor looked around and shifted in stance. Each soldier was heavily trained and ready for battle. They were ready for whatever the Metro factions had to throw at them.
A short, almost lemon-faced Nazi captain approached Viktor, stuttering as he spoke. "The Fuhrer seeks your presence, Commandant. He'll be making his speech soon."
Viktor looked at the Captain up and down then replied, "Very well. Lead the way, Captain."
The captain nodded and led Viktor to the Fuhrer. They struggled through the crowds as an announcment blared.
ALL PERSONNEL ARE NOW ORDERED TO REPORT TO THE GRAND HALL. REPEAT, ALL PERSONNEL TO THE GRAND HALL.
The two nazi officers then reached a back room, right next to the Grand Hall stage. The Fuhrer stood by, arms crossed and murmuring to himself. Several guards were posted around the room.
Viktor straightened his stance and saluted, "My Fuhrer."
The Fuhrer turned his head and nodded to Viktor, "At ease, Commandant."
Viktor relaxed and surveyed the area. He could hear the thump of boots in the Grand Hall as the soldiers congregated to hear their leader speak. He turned his gaze back to the Fuhrer and inquired, "You requested my presence, sir?"
"That I did. You have done me a great service in the past, Viktor... you fight with honor, dignity and show no mercy to our enemies."
"Thank you, my Fuhrer. I simply do what is justified."
The Fuhrer nodded and stated, "Indeed. I am appointing you coordinator of operations, my right-hand man throughout this campaign. You shall command my men and moderate their movements. Understood? Know that this is a great honor... I rarely offer such a rank."
"Yes, my Fuhrer. I shall not disappoint. I know we shall be victorious."
The crowd outside grew restless and many began chanting and stamping their boots.
FUHRER! FUHRER! FUHRER!
The Fuhrer looked out onto the bright stage, "Looks like it's time. Come, my Commandant, I'd like you by my side as I speak."
Viktor nearly blushed as he followed his prestiged leader onto the stage. The stage was brightly lit and a wooden podium placed in the center. The whole Grand Hall was roaring in cheer. Long, red swastika banners hung from the walls. The Fuhrer approached the podium, Viktor standing not far beside him. He tried to keep a commanding expression in front of the Reich army, being next to the Fuhrer himself and all.
The Fuhrer waved his hand in the air to silence the cheering soldiers. He then spoke in a great voice into an old microphone...
"Fellow soldiers, brothers, and citizens of the Fourth Reich. You have all come forth today to witness our great alliance ascend into glory and utterly endless power!”
The huge crowd let out a big cheer. The Fuhrer continued...
“ALL of our training and preparation has led to this day. The day we assert ourselves as the true and rightful power in the Metro. All the weak shall be trampled under our path of war! We shall demonstrate that ONLY true Russian power can lead to victory! It is today that we turn that vision into reality! Glory to the Reich!"
The Nazi horde saluted and chanted.
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA! (Glory! Glory! Glory!)
The Fuhrer grinned, seeming to feed off of the endless chants and salutes.
"The days of reckoning are coming! Days when we will demonstrate to all of the Metro our might, will, and unstoppable force. The mission of the Reich is coming to a logical, just, and victorious climax! Glory to the Reich!”
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA!
"But those days are just beginning... No, they are in their infancy! But very soon we shall march upon Polis itself and the rest of the Metro! With our newfound military firearms, missiles and biological weapons, we WILL be victorious! We shall rain fire upon our enemies! Just like the fire that burned our world twenty years ago! Glory to the Reich!
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA!
The Fuhrer pounded his fist on the podium, his speech becoming stronger and more passionate.
"Too long have we been pushed back by our foes! Too long we have feinted our victory! We now have the Sword of Justice and now we must strike it! We shall make a Last Conquest into the Metro! An Ultimate Battle! The Last Crusade to ultimate victory! Glory to the Reich, my soldiers! Glooorrrry to the Final Crusade!"
SLAVA! SLAVA! SLAVA!
The army of the Reich chanted Glory wildly then erupted into great cheer.
"Now go forth my warriors! Win me the Metro and I'll win you freedom and justice!"
The horde cheered for the Fuhrer and waved their guns in the air. After a few seconds the aemy dissipated and went onto the platforms.
The Fuhrer sighed, excessively sweating. Viktor spoke, "A great speech, my Fuhrer."
"That it was, Viktor... that it was. Now run off... prepare the men. You'll only advance on my orders, I want to see how Polis reacts soon..."
The Fuhrer walked towards the backstage entrance then turned back, "Ah yes, seek out Captain Aleksander Novikov. He'll be leading the frontline troops. Contact him when I give the order to attack, we have a couple hours at least. Understood?"
Viktor nodded and departed for the platform. Nearly every trooper was now inspecting his rifle and beginning to group up with his unit.
We attack in a couple hours? Shit... we must attack now! Enough of this pointless waiting... the Fuhrer must act now, before Polis can’t land a lethal strike on us... they will soon know of our weapons of destruction.
Viktor stoically stood and looked over the crowd, searching for Novikov.
He shouted, "Novikov! Aleksander Novikov!"
Where is he... I bet our message is already being made in Polis... I must speak to him quick.
* * *
Meanwhile, in Polis...
Polis life was going as smoothly as always... envoys arrived in rail cars laden with rare goods, Rangers guarded the gates loyally and the Council blathered on uselessly. Even the ever-paranoid traders seemed to have no ill news. But one thing... was amiss.
A black coated man walked steadily along the tracks, showing a particular interest for a small tower not far beside him. Atop the towers, large speakers were placed for station-wide announcements. The man looked all around, seeing no one watching, and quickly sidestepped into the tower’s entrance. He walked peeked around the corner and walked up the small set of stairs to the top of the tower.
The stairs led to the top room... various radio equipment was placed along a wooden table, along with a record player connected to the large speakers. The radio man sat on a creaky chair, his back to the mysterious man. The black coated man took two cautious steps forward and poked the radio man. The man only gave out a loud snore in reply and shook his head. The black coated man, relieved, then walked to the wooden table and withdrew what seemed like a record from his pocket. He removed an old propaganda record from the record player and replaced it with his own new disk.
The man put the needle in place and played the record. As soon as he finished doing so, he sprinted down to the stairs and out of the tower, beginning to blend in with the crowd.
The same recorded message would be blaring across all Polis and Ring Line stations, all saboteurs suddenly fading away just as they came. The voice... was the Fuhrer’s.
Attention, people of Polis and the Ring Line. How long have your leaders eluded you? Taken advantage of your needs and Russian rights? They feed off of your own tax and misery. Those cruel people only seek their own personal gain. No longer can you people sit by and let these cretins take advantage of you. Therefore, it is my honor to address to you, that the Fourth Reich will be declaring war on Polis and the Hanseatic League. We seek to end this injustice and bring true Russian power to the Metro. But remember, we do not mean to cause bloodshed on the common people, the Fourth Reich is not your enemy. This is merely a battle between our leaders. The leaders of the Hansa and Polis send you out to fight a war you cannot win.
Many Polis officials looked around frantically, eventually spotting the radio tower.
“Turn it off! Turn it off now!” one official shouted.
The propaganda continued...
I repeat, the Fourth Reich is not your enemy, this is a fight you cannot win. The Fourth Reich is the automatic victor. We have numerous weapons of destruction and biological chemicals to use against you if need be. I repeat, we shall attack with our biological weapons should you resist and fail to surrender...
Large crowds had gathered to hear the propaganda, many looking terror stricken. The populace was restless, the propaganda must be stopped or a riot could arise.
Within the crowd... a black coated man could be seen... smiling...