lysander117
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Ahh, Artyom. You have arrived!
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Post by lysander117 on May 25, 2013 12:24:52 GMT -5
Krasnye Vorota - Barracks
Andrei Malashenko sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning as he got up and crawled over to the bucket of water which served as a basin in the corner of his small tent. He splashed water over his face, blinked, and yawned again, stretching to expedite sleep from his limbs.
"Comrades, we must fight the fascist reich at every turn. Even now they ready themselves to try and take our greatest asset - armoury station. We cannot let this happen, the people must stand against this evil if this glorious socialist revolution will spread. Our army is mobilised, young patriots are compelled to join - make yourselves known at the recruiting office and know that you are aiding the cause which our forefathers started. Slava krasnoy linii!"
The P.A. system never stopped blaring out its endless stream of propaganda - most of it prerecorded and sent on railcars from the offices of Comrade Moskvin. Sometimes though, when important announcements were made - Andrei would hear the deep voice of this station's chairman. He couldn't say he liked the statements which were made on the air, but being a good communist and having a red tinged soul, he could not help but be aroused by some of the words spoken by their leader. Comrade Moskvin was the ideal leader for the revolution - middle aged, handsome and charismatic, he charmed the hearts and minds of the people of the Red Line with his fervent jargon and made sure that they were entirely loyal to the cause of the faction. A perfect communist leader.
After he had dressed himself in his military fatigues and strapped his holstered Mosin M1985 to his belt, Andrei went in search of his friend Pyotr. They had been friends since a very early age - Andrei's family having adopted Pyotr when his mother had died and since then Pyotr had been a constant companion. They had joined the Red army together, though for very different reasons and they had been in several engagements against the Fascists - becoming known as reliable and steadfast soldiers.
Both were staunch communists, but Andrei and Pyotr's views on the red line were different. Whereas Pyotr thought the Red Line was the be all and end all of Communist capability - the epitome of socialist power and the greatest, most sophisticated form of such a state ever created by mankind. Andrei had been disillusioned with Red Line policies ever since his father had been sent to Lubyanka. Andrei believed that there could be a better form of communism, more tolerant, more free and far less oppressive. In his eyes, the oppression and suspicion with which the Red Line treated even allied stations was the main reason that the revolution wasn't spreading. He had read about communism in the old world and it seemed to him that the Red Line was just reliving the past, not using the advantage of a new age to better its predecessors.
As Andrei reached the tent of his friend, he pondered the message which had been pressed into his palm. He had decided that he would investigate it today, once he had some free time to find the flashing light which was mentioned. It was not a search on which to take Pyotr, as his friend's blind devotion to the Red Line was often a hinderance to Andrei's desire to experiment. He was just as likely to report Andrei as to support him.
He opened the tent flap and kicked his friend, who was snoring loudly. "Hey suka, wake up or we'll miss breakfast - i don't want to spend all day on patrol with you moaning into my ear about your empty stomach."
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milch
Nosalis
Age quod agis
Posts: 66
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Post by milch on May 26, 2013 1:33:34 GMT -5
"Poshel ti" was Pyotr's sleepy reply. But nevertheless the prospect of being hungry on patrol got him into motion. He rolled off of his, what some would call, bed and moved over to his desk and the chair on which his clothes were hanging. After slipping into his uniform Pyotr opened the drawer of the desk and pulled out his Lolife in its holster and strapped that on. He wet one of his hands in a large tub of water and rubbed his face with it to wake up a bit more. When his morning preparations were all done he was finally ready to get some breakfast.
"Well, what the hell are you waiting for now? Let's go!" he pushed his friend towards the tent flap and followed him out.
The station seemed deserted at this time of day: everyone was either sleeping or having breakfast in the canteen. The latter was where Pyotr and Andrei were headed. As always the canteen was bursting with people, there was barely a place to stand let alone sit, so some people were holding their bowls with one hand as they stood and ate with the other. The two soldiers pushed their way through the crowd and towards the cue.
They were shuffling along, and shuffling, and shuffling until Pyotr could no longer stay silent and began showering his friend with his thoughts regarding this and that and the other. Until finally he said "Hey, Andrei, em... I'm being sent on an arrest today again". Andrei let out a deep sigh of disapproval. Pyotr knew his friend didn't appreciate the whole notion, but he could've at least been a bit more discreet about it. "Don't!" Pyotr hushed his comrade "Don't react in such a way when we're surrounded by people! Your thoughts regarding my work aren't going to be favored by the commandment. And the people around us aren't going to go and ignore your obvious criticism of the regime's decisions like I do! Anyone in the canteen is like to report you. So do try to keep it down". With that came Pyotr's turn to get his bowl of whatever the farmers came up with. "Meat stew" was the morning treat that day. "Somebody needs to tell them that potatoes aren't meat" Pyotr remarked jokingly. The same joke he has been making for years now.
They had the rest of their meal in silence, both brooding over what to expect of the day. Once they were finished they made their way back to their respective tents to get their gear and armor for their patrol. Pyotr donned his heavy armor which covered most of his body and strapped to his belt all of the satchels he needed. One for dynamite. One for his pistol ammo. One for his RPK ammo. And one for his gas mask filters and the mask itself. Finally he put on his helm and lowered the visor. After slinging the machine gun over his shoulder he was ready to go on patrol. Pyotr went over to his friend's tent and called for him "Come on, Andrei! Have you forgot about the patrol or what?".
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lysander117
Lurker
Ahh, Artyom. You have arrived!
Posts: 47
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Post by lysander117 on May 26, 2013 11:10:56 GMT -5
"Wait a minute." Andrei shouted, picking up his Kalashnikov, slinging it over his back and strapping webbing full of magazines and a belt of throwing knifes to his chest. He also pocketed the piece of cloth that the stranger had given him - routine searches were the rule of the day, even in Red Army tents and Andrei didn't want to be discovered holding suspicious and possibly treasonous material in his possession.
Ducking through the tent flap and pulling on some fingerless leather gloves, Andrei came once more upon the platform - now buzzing with activity as the people of Krasnye Vorota station were starting to go about their daily pursuits. Pyotr was standing in front of Andrei's tent, wearing a full body armour and a helmet - looking as if he was ready to take on the whole of the Wehrmacht. "Glupiy ubludok," Andrei laughed "don't you think that you're a bit overdressed for a simple patrol around the station?" Pyotr mumbled something about being prepared under his breath and they both set off, swaggering along the platform with their rifles at their chests. "You know bratan, I will never understand why you take such pride in these political arrests. Don't say that it's what a good communist does - you know that's bullshit that the party makes up to make us soldiers believe that we're doing the right thing. It's as if the whole Lubyanka shit never happened to us - my father was your father too, after a fashion so don't tell me you don't think it was an injustice for those bastards to lock up my dad for just speaking his mind."
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milch
Nosalis
Age quod agis
Posts: 66
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Post by milch on May 26, 2013 13:26:10 GMT -5
The two soldiers made their way up the station, keeping close watch on the civilians that now filled the station. As they walked, guns in hands, looking threatening just for the sake of keeping any ideas of crime out of the people's heads.
The two were half way through their patrol when Andrei suddenly said "You know bratan, I will never understand why you take such pride in these political arrests. Don't say that it's what a good communist does - you know that's bullshit that the party makes up to make us soldiers believe that we're doing the right thing. It's as if the whole Lubyanka shit never happened to us - my father was your father too, after a fashion so don't tell me you don't think it was an injustice for those bastards to lock up my dad for just speaking his mind."
Pyotr tightened his grip on the LMG in slight discomfort. He didn't like being questioned about his devotion to the cause of the Line in such mocking ways, especially by Andrei. "The Red Line is the only thing that stands between the Fascists, Hansa, all that scum, and the innocents of the metro. The Line does whatever it thinks is best for the people, whether it be arrests, executions or anything else. These arrests are necessary to keep the order here, Andrei, and there are no exceptions. They locked up yo- our father because him 'speaking his mind' was causing a stir in the ranks. The people who I arrest, Andrei, are people who want to undermine the reputation of the glorious Red Line and it's cause. What I do must be done".
Just as Pyotr finished his speech a commissar passed by and the two friends saluted him, a salute which he returned. When the officer was finally out of earshot Pyotr continued "So what do you think must be done? You think the Line must go soft and let things go to shit here? Blyat', I mean, you think the commandment would have been doing all this if there was no real threat? Then man I'm arresting today is a dangerous man. He is armed and if he tries to resist I have orders to kill. You think they'd go this far if he wanted to live his life like the rest of us. true communists, loyal to our cause?"
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Post by chancewalker on May 26, 2013 22:48:41 GMT -5
Dalis had been following the two young men since they left the canteen, back in Lubyanka his GB high ups had told him to follow a certain Andrei Malashenko due to recent suspicion regarding his loyalty. Having listened to the men talk he came to the conclusion that the boy was not a traitor he just had his doubts, Dalis had read the boys file he had good reason to feel the way he did.
Despite being a GB Dalis was a trusting person he thought it himself if a good comrade like Pyotr trusted him he would have nothing to fear, never the less he decided he would tail the pair for a while longer.
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Post by CaptainNips on May 27, 2013 2:12:40 GMT -5
Darkness... that some, fucking old darkness...
The entire tunnel was consumed in an abyssal blackness... darkness you could almost touch and grab hold of. The simple visual of this everlasting darkness caused Vadim to think of his old studies... of dark matter. A subject of space that has been boggling the minds of scientists for centuries...
Had been... Vadim corrected himself.
Dark Matter neither emits or absorbs light, it is a force of it's own free will. It's-
"-existence is totally reliant on it's surrounding environment." Vadim said almost robotically and grimaced, "Ah, shit. How do I remember that crap."
Vadim spit on the ground and trudged down the old tunnel, tired of these mind-twisting thoughts of life. Besides, why did they have to matter anymore? The world's nearly destroyed, academics are of no use to Vadim... only his guns and wit are. The grim assassin sighed and watched the ground thoroughly, trying to be aware of any missteps. The tunnel was generally quiet... but that was to be expected. This was a busy tunnel, often bustling with Red convoys and patrols; thus the passage was often cleaned up of any intruders.
The lone hitman checked his watch, 9 am.
Likely morning for those station-lubbers at Krasnye Vorota.
K-CHUNK! K-CHUNK! K-CHUNK!
Vadim jumped at the sudden noise and quickly drew his custom-made revolver. The pistol's bright nickel glinted in the black... Vadim had long ago learned to draw this weapon quick an easy, being able to put a bullet in someone's head within what seemed like milliseconds. But this ominent noise unsettled him...
He then looked behind him, looking down the red-dot scoped sight of his revolver.
K-CHUNK! K-CHUNK!
A bulky, wooden object began to reveal itself around the curve of the rails... Vadim sighed in relief.
Just a rail car, I should've known. What am I getting so worked up for...?
The cloaked man then jumped to the side of the tunnel into a maintenance corner... just to stay out of the car's sight. An encounter with Red officials certainly would not help right now... even with Vadim's reputation and passport. The car passed by as quickly as it had been heard. Vadim could only make out a couple armed soldier and one of those stern-faced commanders at it's head.
He then stepped out of the corner, once he was convinced the car was out of sight, and continued on his walk for Krasnye Vorota.
Shouldn't be too far now... Hopefully their officials, or even Moskvin has some work for me.
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lysander117
Lurker
Ahh, Artyom. You have arrived!
Posts: 47
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Post by lysander117 on May 27, 2013 5:55:31 GMT -5
The two soldiers had come to the end of the platform by now, so they turned and headed towards the area of the station reserved for party officials and officers - an area which instead of tents, had small 'rooms' with wooden partitions; this was considered a luxury, though hardly acting in accord to the tenets of the philosophy that the party claimed to live by.
"Pyotr, I know order needs to be kept - that guy is a danger to order in this station and could perhaps cause deaths in the future." Andrei paused to buy a tin cup of tea from a sooty-faced merchant and waited for Pyotr to do the same before they walked on "But his case is a rare one and you know it; most arrests are people who are considered political dissidents by the party, people who have spoken their mind about one or two of the party's policies. It doesn't mean they need to be locked up in the Lubyanka."
Andrei stalked along the tunnel leading to the luxury quarters. For some reason, he was angrier at the Red Line today than he had been in weeks and he didn't know why. Maybe the square of cloth had something to do with it, ever since he had had it pressed into his hand he had felt more able to speak his mind about his true thoughts. He looked to Pyotr once again. "You know yourself that even if someone is in the wrong place at the wrong time, they are taken with the suspect and treated as criminals. You could just be sitting around a fire with your friends; if one of them is a criminal - a commissar is coming with a squad of soldiers and a suspicion that said friend has been muttering about the policies of comrade Moskvin. When those bastards arrive, everyone is packed on the train to Lubyanka and never seen again." He paused then and feeling someone's gaze upon the back of his neck he turned around, looking into the crowd of people heading to their workplaces. He caught a glimpse of a leather helmet - an unusual piece of equipment for a common civilian, but that was soon obscured by more people. His suspicions aroused, Andrei turned back around and walked the final few metres to the luxury quarters before continuing. "I mean, look here? This place is a prime example of what the line is doing wrong, we're communists - meant to be working towards equality; yet we have inequalities like this. Where these men and women live in luxury just because of their rank and they look down their noses at us just because we live on the platform. In tents. Bratan, this state is going back to the old days before the apocalypse, when people lived in fear of their leaders and were afraid to say anything; or worse - we're going to end up being no better than the Hansa. This event was a chance to restart, to succeed where our forebears fai..." Andrei stopped, seeing a blinking red light coming from one of the luxury rooms.
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Post by chancewalker on May 27, 2013 10:23:51 GMT -5
Dalis was abnormally interested in the two guards conversation, both had a good points but the way he saw Andrei's eyes flared up when he spoke of Lubyanka and the arrests seemed discomforted the agent.
As the men entered the Luxury area Andrei seemed to look at him for a moment, but not into his eyes. "Damn" Dalis quietly said to himself,"He must of been looking at my hat or something." Dalis pulled the Leather Helmet down and stuffed it in his large jacket pocket.
These soldiers may have been sharper than he expected, slowly he pulled back a bit to try and watch them despite not being able to hear the conversation.
but as he turned around to blend into the crowd Andrei stopped to look into one of the rooms. "What the hell is he doing?"
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milch
Nosalis
Age quod agis
Posts: 66
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Post by milch on May 28, 2013 11:29:59 GMT -5
When Andrei stopped near the rooms Pyotr smacked him on the arm with the butt of his RPK. "What the hell are you waiting for? Let's finish our patrol and then you can go stare at whatever you like, but right now I'm in a bit of a rush" Pyotr took a long sip of tea as the two got back en-route "and as I said before" his voice was much more hushed now "don't speak so loudly and so disrespectfully of the commissars! Especially, when you're near their quarters, tvau mat'!".
They came to the end of the platform past more Luxury rooms and merchant's stalls and then turned around 180 degrees. "I know what you're saying about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but how else should the commissars operate? How do they know that the people from your example aren't sitting with more criminals? Eh? Of course they'll have to take them for interrogation and once they're sure that the people are truly innocent and only then can they release the suspects". Pyotr was once again unhappy about the way Andrei was speaking of the Line. And such speeches were becoming more and more often. What was Andrei getting at? It was like he was trying to get himself arrested as hard as he could.
The way back to their end of the station was quite uneventful apart from Andrei's constant looking back, as if he were paranoid about something. Once they got back and reported to the officers about their patrol and that everything was in order they were given their leave. "Hey, Andrei, I'm going to go and get ready for that arrest. I'll catch you later" and with that Pyotr disappeared behind the flap of his tent.
The young man lifted the visor and took off the helm to wash his face. He paused for a moment, holding onto the edges of the large water tub, and reflected back at the orders given. Shoot of he resists. Dead or alive. That meant something. Normally, Lubyanka wanted their prisoners alive and unhurt, so that they could hurt them themselves, but when they wanted the suspect dead or alive. That meant he wasn't even necessary for interrogation. His guilt was known and proven. Pyotr locked up his RPK in a chest under his "bed" and checked the ammo in his Lolife. He needed to be quick with his reactions and the machine gun was not the best thing for that. Putting his helm back on and once again lowering the visor Pyotr stepped outside. Although it seemed as if he was in the tent for just a few moments, more than half an hour had passed and Pyotr had to be quick about the arrest. He moved down the station, deeper and deeper into the tents towards the less prominent part of the occupants of Krasnye Vorota station. As he moved between row and row of tents people closed the flaps of their shelters at his approach and the people he encountered on the way did all they could to stay out of his way and not bump into him. They feared him Pyotr suddenly realised. Just as they feared all the other soldiers and officers and anyone else who wore the Red Line uniform. But why? He was there to protect them. He was their guardian shield. He was what stood between them and the Reich, Hansa and all of that other scum. The two thoughts didn't fit together. Pyotr got so caught up in his thinking that he didn't even notice how he got to the target's tent.
The light of the oil lamp flickered through the gaps in the torn fabric of the tent. The flap, acting as a door, was hanging loose, lightly moving in the breeze that always filled the metro but didn't seem to have any definite source. Pyotr slowly stepped towards the tent and made out the shadow of the man he was to arrest. The man's name was Dimitri. From the description Pyotr had read earlier, Dimitri was quite short with black combed over hair and green eyes. The soldier unholstered his pistol and gripped it tight in his hand. His arm was 90 degrees at the elbow, his pistol level with his chest. With the barrel of his Lolife he slowly pushed the flap slightly aside to get a peek inside. And there he was. Dimitri. The man who wanted nothing for the Red Line but failure. Pyotr watched the man a while longer. He was in a rush, packing a suitcase with what little belongings he had. Once all the clothes were packed, Dimitri moved over to a table and picked up a book. Karl Marx's "Capital". He opened the book and inside found a Makarov pistol. The book's pages were cut from the inside in such manner to look completely normal when closed, yet it was able to hold the pistol and conceal it without causing any concern for the officials. And the choice of book was very practical as well. Little literature was favoured by the Line, only a handful of authors they considered suitable for a true communist. When Dimitri tucked the Makarov into the back of his trousers Pyotr decided it was time to act. Now he had irrefutable evidence for himself, proving this man was up to no good. "Hold it there! Your are under arrest by the order of Commi-" Pyotr didn't have time to finish. Dimitri's look of astonishment and fear quickly changed for the look of desperation. And a desperate man is the most dangerous man of all. He reached with his right hand for the pistol he tucked behind his trousers earlier, but the move was predicted by Pyotr, who knew the man's little secret. Pyotr fired two shots: one to the heart and a control to the head. The man was dead before he even hit the floor.
The shooting attracted some nosy bystanders but the look of Pyotr in his uniform quickly shoed them away. Pyotr holstered his Lolife and began going through Dimitri's belongings. A standard procedure. Finding only a token amount of bullets and belongings Pyotr's prediction of the man being not so prominent proved itself true. Pyotr was about to finish his search, seal the room and report back to the commandment when he caught sight of a little brown spot sticking out from under the mattress. On closer inspection it turned out to be a tiny notepad, which was used as a journal. Pyotr, being naturally nosy, flicked through to the latest entry.
"(the date was written in incomprehensible writing as was most of the journal. Few people in the metro were completely literate)
They've taken Joseph to Lubyanka last night. ... innocent... He was set up by the... ... I must go after him, I can explain it all to the interrog...
...I've decided on the date, I'm leavi... must pack...
They're after me."
Pyotr stood for a while reading into those lines over and over. Being naturally slow it took him a while to piece everything together. He tucked the journal into the inside pocket of his shirt beneath his armor. Then he left the shelter, everything as it was, and sealed the tent.
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lysander117
Lurker
Ahh, Artyom. You have arrived!
Posts: 47
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Post by lysander117 on May 28, 2013 17:50:17 GMT -5
As soon as Pyotr disappeared, Andrei went into his tent and sat on what passed for his bed. A whorehouse was where he was meant to meet this man he never met? Did they want him to die? Such a bastion of hanseatic decadence would arouse the suspicions of the commissars to no end, not to mention the fact that such a place disgusted Andrei to his core - it was one of the best examples of how Comrade Moskvin's regime was buckling to the corruption of capitalism, letting it seep in whilst putting on a face of stoic totalitarianism.
Andrei already had suspicions that he was being followed by the commissariat - the man in the leather hat he'd seen earlier had only emboldened those; so it would mean a great personal risk to head to this whorehouse and meet this stranger, a man whom Andrei had never met, a man who could just be someone planted to root out idealists like him.
"But if they already have me pegged for Lubyanka, what have I got to lose?" He muttered, deciding then and there that he was going to take this opportunity - he had virtually nothing to lose, his family were dead and his loyalty to the state was completely fabricated. Only Pyotr stood in his way - his oldest friend, yet someone he could not fully trust thanks to his blind loyalty to the party and his faith in the fact that he was fighting the good fight. Pyotr would have to choose between his friend and the state he so loved, Andrei decided. But when that time came, which of the two loyalties would prevail.
Consigning such thoughts to the grave, Andrei started to pack his bag in preparation for his inevitable flight. At the bottom, he laid his military grade cartridges - counting out three hundred, a sum which made him a rich man by Red line terms. Above that, he put a picture of him, his mother and his father taken before the war and a possession which Andrei prized above nearly all others. Apart from those two most important items, he packed some ration packs, a water bottle, his passport and finally, his gas mask; he then stuffed the pockets with spare filters, bandages and medkits. After he was sure that everything was in order he covered the bag with a leather jacket and laid his kalashnikov against it so as it would look as inconspicuous as possible - just in case Pyotr decided to poke his head inside the tent flap.
Before he left Andrei also removed the webbing from his chest, leaving the throwing knives and his revolver on his person - just in case things went awry before he had a chance to get away. Donning his greatcoat and peaked cap to make himself look as respectable as possible, Andrei took a deep breath and ducked out of the tent and headed off in the direction of the luxury district.
All the time he was walking he had to resist the urge to look behind him, taking deep breaths to assuage the paranoia that was rapidly grasping onto his consciousness. Perhaps that conversation with Pyotr had gotten too heated earlier, perhaps a good comrade had heard and reported the both of them to the authorities. Andrei cursed himself for not holding his tongue as he realised that just that conversation could give the authorities pause to arrest the both of them. By the time that particular string of thought had reached its end, Andrei had arrived at the red light. He stared at it, taking in its ominous blinking presence and having an inner battle within his mind as to whether he should take a step over that threshold and into his possible downfall. Just as he was thinking this, the strong, authoritative voice of Chairman Moskvin sparked into life over the intercom.
"Comrades of the Red Line, our glorious revolution is continually supported by you're diligence; remember to report any suspicious conversations you may happen to overhear - as they may be the words of spies, placed here by the fascist pigs or the hanseatic scum to undermine the party in their jealousy of the life we have here. Such reports will be rewarded with a sum of five military cartridges paid out on delivery of the information. Slava krasnoy linii!"
"Fucking bastards." Andrei muttered, as he stepped into the dim red illumination of the whorehouse.
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Post by chancewalker on May 28, 2013 19:28:21 GMT -5
As the guard looked into the room Dalis realized it was just a whorehouse. The second boy, Pyotr got his friend to keep moving but as they walked Andrei kept looking back. "Ah" He was right it was the helmet that had thrown the boy off he didn't seem to pay attention to Dalis anymore, Dalis decided he would remember that trick, if anyone started to catch on he would change disguises. As they continued to talk Dalis observed that Andrei was certainly no enemy of the state but definitely not trustworthy.
The boys then split up it seemed that andrei was heading back to his tent, at last a perfect chance to see what he was up too. The agent followed Andrei back to his tent then went around to the other side to listen in from behind the "Home" he heard the boy muttering but the only thing he could make out was "What do I have to lose" This worried Dalis because if you knew anything, people with nothing to lose were the most dangerous.
He then decided to go back around and wait for Andrei to come out. This time he would stay ahead of him instead of behind, but still close enough to tell where he might be heading.
Once the Andrei started started towards the luxury quarters he knew he would be heading for the brothel. Dalis moving through the crowd quickly went into the room before of Andrei and parked himself by the bar ordering a glass of vodka, he did not drink the vodka.
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Post by CaptainNips on May 29, 2013 9:05:22 GMT -5
A bright spotlight shifted across the dark tunnel, briefly illuminating Vadim Chuikov making his way to Krasnye Vorota's entrance. The light then stopped and fixed itself onto the lone man. Vadim shielded his weak eyes from the glaring light and leaned away from the brightness. "Jesus, cut that out, man. That light is killing my eyes," Vadim remarked.
Behind the dominating, bright glare of the light, he could just make out three silhouettes and the cordoned off entrance to Krasnye Vorota.
A raspy voice shouted, "Who are you and state your business in Krasnye Vorota! You are obviously not Red Line personnel..."
"Get this fucking light out of my face and I'll consider telling you," Vadim snapped.
The spotlight moved to the side, ggiving Vadim's eyes less strain and allowing him a better look of the area. Once he finished rubbing his eyes, the assassin observed the cordon. Two walls of sandbags were placed there, a metro-made machine gun mounted onto the fortifications. The officer there wore a stern expression and was dressed in the typical brown communist uniform. The other two men were obviously regular soldier, one wielding a Mosin Nagant and the other a common Kalash.
"Now, out with it. Name and business," the officer said.
"Vadim Chuikov," he replied shortly and resumed into a careless, nonchalant position.
The Red officer chuckled slightly, causing the two others to do the same. Soon, the laughter escalated to a hysterical cackle from all three men.
The Red officer, breathing shakily and grinning, spoke, "So you're telling me... you are the Reaper of Hansa Governor Aleksandrov? The famed assassin and hitman favored by Comrade Moskvin himself?"
"The one and only," Vadim said.
The 26 year old man had made quite a reputation with the Commies... His most notable deed was the murder of the Governor of Komsomolskaya, Aleksandrov. As the common story went, Vadim had hidden inside Aleksandrov's latrine. And when the Governor stopped to relieve himself.... BAM! .45 caliber bullet straight up the buttocks, through the immune system, then the neck and right into the brain. But... stories are stories.
But there is one true fact among the numerous rumors and gossip on the assassination. Vadim had somehow succeeded in providing false evidence in the crime scene which pointed towarcs the Fourth Reich commiting the murder. The cunning hitman keft behind an iron cross in the Governor's pool of blood, making it seem like it was torn off in the conflict. Comrade Moskvin richly rewarded Vadim for the deed... olsidfying the man as a reputable and valuable ally to the Red Line. Many in the Red Line would undoubtedly have heard of the Reaper's tales...
Vadim stepped forward to the cordon right in front of the officer. He grimly stared at him straight in the eyes.
"You're shitting me, show me your passport," the man demanded.
Vadim slipped his hand into his coat pocket and flipped out his Red Line passport, not once taking his eyes off of the soldier. The document confained his full identity, including a free pass and pardon decreed by Comrade Moskvin himself.
"Well I'll be damned... You really are Vadim Chuikov! I'd never thought I'd ever meet such a person," the officer chuckled.
Vadim nodded and pocketed his passport, "So you gonna let me through now? I haven't got all day."
The officer suddenly wore a bright grinand gestured to the station, "Oh yes, yes. Of course, sir. Please go on. You are free to keep your weapons, just don't get into any trouble."
Vadim walked forward and passed by the cordon, "I'll try not to. Spasiba."
Even as he continued to walk into Krasnye Vorota, Vadim could feel the hot stares of the soldiers on his back. The stares only continued as he advanced through the station in full gear, murmurings of the famed "Reaper". Vadim grinned.
Suddenly, a short rattle of gunfire was heard not far down where Vadim was heading. All nearby looked around and halted intheir gossip, some with paniced looks on their faces.
Gunfire? I shouldn't be surprised... This is the Red Line after all. Strict order is always enforced, i cluding ending in executions. Seems like the shots were down this way...
Vadim went down the pathway and stopped not too far outside the tent. From the light inside the fabric shelter, he could see a bulky, possibly armored sillhouette of a man. Not too long after, the official exited the tent, sealing the residence behind him.
Vadim chuckled and observed the man, "Communism at it's finest, brutal execution of unwanted denizens..."
He then gave a mock salute and retorted, "Fine job, soldier! You've served this fine and fair government well. You teach those poor scraps a thing or two!"
Vadim grinned. He wore his usual black trench coat and donned his olive drab military boots. A bandolier of military grade and dirty rounds hung around his shoulder. Vadim also wielded his silenced Skorpion and his Russian-Schofield revolver. The odd pistol was scoped as well. Vadim looked back with pale blue eyes. His gace was hollow and his diry blonde mat of hair stuck up on end at some places.
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lysander117
Lurker
Ahh, Artyom. You have arrived!
Posts: 47
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Post by lysander117 on May 29, 2013 9:23:18 GMT -5
The whorehouse was quite empty, but the smells of the night before still permeated the air - nicotine and sweat dominated and the room had a certain humidity about it that one could associate with a whorehouse. However, at this time of day people hadn't got the time nor the money to waste on whoring, daytime was a time of work and people who absented themselves from their workplace without suitable excuse could end up being arrested by state police; such was life in the Red Line. Despite that, there were still a few patrons dotted around the dimly lit establishment - two rich looking men sat with half naked women on their laps but apart from them only two other people were bringing their custom to this god-forsaken place. One man in a leather trench coat was sitting stiffly at the bar with a glass of vodka beside him Andrei couldn't see his face, but something about his appearance seemed familiar - as if they'd met in passing or been introduced through a mutual friend. The other - a black bearded man of middling age, was sitting on a bench in the corner of the room, wearing a black leather jacket and a red scarf around his neck; more importantly, he hadn't stopped staring at Andrei since he had come in.
The young soldier decided that this was the man he had come to find; so he went to the bar, ordered a bottle of cheap shroom vodka and sat down on the bench next to this mysterious stranger. "Care to share my drink, stranger?" Andrei inquired, not knowing how else to start the conversation.
"Of course comrade." the stranger replied, smiling as he poured some vodka into his empty shot glass. "I'm always happy to have a drink with a fellow revolutionary." After downing the shot and pouring another, the revolutionary turned once more to Andrei. "I see you heeded my call. That is good. Now if you would pass the cloth back to me, i will tell you what you need to know."
Andrei pulled the piece of cloth from his pocket and handed it to the man, who smiled again, seemingly expecting him to ask a question. "How did you know to give that to me? How did you know who I was, and that i was unhappy with the way this place was going?" Andrei asked - he was deeply curious about how this stranger had managed to single him out. One dissident amongst many loyalists, and in the most unlikely place.
"I have no time to tell you now, comrade. All will be explained once you join our ranks." He looked at the leather clad man at the bar and frowned, then his tone took on a more urgent note. "For now, you may call me comrade Fidel; I am a member of the First International Red Fighting Brigade of the Moscow Metropolitan, also known as the revolutionaries. We follow a purer vein of communism than these Red Line collaborationists and we have been rooting around stations, looking for people like you to join us in our fight to bring down the tyranny of the Reich and others of its ilk." Fidel looked around again and cursed, his voice now a hardly audible whisper. "If you wish to join us, meet me in half an hour at the southeast tunnel, where i will take you to our leader, commissar Rusakov at Avtozavodskaya. I cannot promise you a comfortable life, but it will be a good one and we are fighting the good fight." The revolutionary now got to his feet, and looked back at Andrei. "Now we must split ways, we have already spent enough time together as it is." And with that, he was gone, striding out of the door and back to whatever hole he was hiding in.
Ten minutes later Andrei was sitting outside of his tent, nervously shuffling a deck of cards when a something caught his eye. A man with a bag over his head was being lead at gunpoint off of the platform and onto the tracks. The voice of the station's chairman blinked into life over the intercom for the first time that day.
"Loyal comrades of the red line. This man is a fascist spy, sent to sow dissent within your ranks. He claims to be a communist; but we know otherwise. This offence can be punished by only one thing. Death. This, is what happens to collaborators and Nazis, this is the ultimate fate of all who thing serving the Reich will lead to bliss." The hood was wrenched off of the supposed criminal's head, revealing the face that Andrei now recognised as Fidel. The revolutionary looked towards him and Andrei realised what the state were doing. They had captured the man, knowing who he was and were now claiming him to be a spy in order to create a sense of patriotic fervour within the crowd who had now gathered on the platform to watch his death. Andrei realised that they were going to do the same thing to him. They were going to name him a traitor and without trial, they would execute him.
A shot rang out through the station and Fidel's lifeless corpse fell to the ground; at the same time, Andrei turned and saw a commissar come onto the platform, seemingly looking for someone. Andrei ducked back into his tent and shouldered his bag, donning his webbing and cocking his AK-74 as he did so. Hearing footsteps hastening towards his tent Andrei aimed his rifle at the tent flap, ready to greet the next visitor with a wall of hot lead.
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milch
Nosalis
Age quod agis
Posts: 66
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Post by milch on May 29, 2013 11:45:20 GMT -5
"Fine job, soldier! You've served this fine and fair government well. You teach those poor scraps a thing or two!" a mocking voice came from the side as Pyotr was just sealing the tent. He turned his head and saw a grinning man sporting a black as night trench-coat. Pyotr didn't have the time or the concentration to engage in another dispute that day. He muttered to the man something under his breath about being a true communist and a loyal soldier and then turned to leave in haste, leaving the mocker to puzzle over Pyotr's mumbling.
Pyotr ran the rest of the way to the commissariat in a rush to get the weight of the unexpected execution off of his chest. He entered the command building and stomped through the offices straight towards his officer in command. "Ah, Pyotr!" the man greeted the soldier as he shut the door behind him "have a seat. You look tired, why don't you take off your helm and get a drink?". The jolly chubby man raised a jug of crystal clear water and poured Pyotr a glass "here, you won't find any clearer and tastier water in the whole of the metro" the commissar chuckled. "Now, let's get down to business. The whole station heard the shooting, so you don't needn't worry about Dimitri's corpse any more, we've got agents there already. Now. We have another situation which requires your attention". When he heard that Pyotr let out a deep sigh. He was too worn out to do any more arrests that day, they were not physically, but psychologically tiring. "We have a reason to suspect a private by the name of Andrei Malachenko of treason" at that point Pyotr thought his heart came to a stop. Did they overhear Andrei's and Pyotr's morning conversation? But if they did, why weren't they arresting him too? The answer came to mind as fast as the question did. Because Pyotr was defending the Red Line in his argument. That's why. "Andrei has been discovered interacting with an infiltrator no more than half an hour ago. We have already arrested his friend and he is to be executed very soon. We need you to go and bring Andrei to us. Dead or alive" the commissar emphasized on the last phrase as much as he could've "can you do that?". Pyotr looked into the commissar's eyes and realized he had no other option than to say "Yes. Yes, I can" with that Pyotr rose to his feet and saluted the officer "Slava Krasnoy Linii!".
Pyotr was drenched with sweat when he reached his tent. He was in a feverish state. His mind was crushing beneath the weight of the responsibility and the outcome of his next decision. But that was the only way now.
"Loyal" Pyotr muttered "Loyal to the end"
He snatched up his military issue rucksack and began packing what little belongings he possessed. In one of the pockets of the bag he placed a purse full of MGR. 300 rounds were his last savings. Into the bag he stuffed his extra set of uniform, his civilian garb, a canteen of fresh water and a bottle of mushroom vodka. He opened the chest beneath his bed and recovered his RPK. Pyotr cocked it and made sure it was armed.
"Loyal" Pyotr muttered "Loyal to the end".
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and then pulled out five sticks of dynamite from his belt satchel. He tied them all together into one batch and merged the fuse. Then he stuffed it into the pocket if his trousers. With the rucksack and the rifle on his back, his knife and pistol at his sides and all the satchels on his belt he left the empty worthless tent of Krasnye Vorota barracks.
As he was running towards Andrei's tent through his mind flickered all of the things that pressed his mind so hard. The unknown Lubyanka prisoner Joseph, Dimitri, the mocker, Andrei, their fath- Andrei's father. All of those thoughts merged into one. One that was ripping Pyotr's mind apart. Pushing the walls of his brain to the limits of bursting. Too much pressure. Too much buildup. A decision had to be made.
"Loyal" Pyotr muttered "Loyal to the end".
Pyotr was near his friend's tent when a shot rang out across the station and the voice of Comrade Moskvin set the speakers alive. He saw a silhouette disappear into the tent and followed it. When he pushed the curtain to the side his friend was pointing his AKSU at the flap, obviously expecting someone less pleasant than Pyotr. Pyotr saw a look of doubt in his friends eyes as he debated over whether to lower his gun or not.
"Loyal" Pyotr muttered "Loyal to my family"
"What?" Andrei didn't make out his friend's mumbling. And possibly fir the better. "Go!" Pyotr shouted "We have to go. Now!" and with that he grabbed his "prisoner" by the arm and pushed him out of the tent. Andrei set the way for the southeastern tunnel. Their escape had to be made by railcar. Through that tunnel their way was destined towards Chistye Prudy. A Red Line station. They would be alerted of their coming the moment Pyotr left Krasnye Vorota with Andrei. This was where the dynamite came in. "I'll catch you up! Go!" Pyotr shouted to his friend and turned to the right towards the telegraph station. All orders were telegraphed from station to station and without the telegraph there would have been no way other stations would find out about the escape. Pyotr pulled the batch of dynamite from his pocket and lit the fuse. He threw the dynamite with power, smashing the window of the bottom floor. In a few moments after he first scream of terror rang out came the explosion. By that time Pyotr already had made his way a few meters away from his throwing point but the blast still caught him. The building blew apart like a card house. Pyotr was knocked down, burnong wood and pieces of the telegraph and body parts landing all around him. He quickly got to his feet and ran. Ran as fats as he could.
When he got to the tunnel his friend had already gotten a railcar. Pyotr didn't know how, but Andrei did. Pyotr jumped on as the car set into motion. Guards were running towards the explosion site, but a few noticed the railcar and ran towards it, shouting something about a lockdown and orders to shoot. Pyotr intercepted their threat. His RPK kicked into motion and showered the guards with a rain of lead. They had no choice but to take cover and stop their advance towards the fleeing railcar. The fire was spreading through the station, setting alight the luxurious and the poor dwellings alike. The railcar on board of which the escapees were disappeared it o the darkness of the tunnel, leaving the chaos and tyranny behind as well as the old loves of the passengers.
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Post by chancewalker on May 29, 2013 16:41:19 GMT -5
Dalis didn't look at Andrei as he enter the room, he knew it would be him and that thought was also confirmed as Andrei ordered a drink at the bar.
Andrei sat down at a bench with an unknown man in a red scarf and talked for awhile and then Andrei left. Now it was obvious he didn't knew who the man in the red scarf was but Dalis knew he was trouble, most likely a Nazi spy.
Dalis stood up and walked over to the bench, the "Nazi spy" looked at him and said "Hey who the hell are yo-" Dalis punched him in the face and then slammed the man's head against the bench knocking him out in a matter of seconds.
As people in the room stood up in surprise and looked at him, one of the whores screamed, Dalis removed his GB badge and yelled "Dalis Kalinn Red Line GB! Everyone calm down this man is a public enemy." Dalis didn't wait to see what anyone else said he handcuffed and bagged the knocked man then shook him awake, leading him out of the room into the stations Police Headquarters.
20 minutes later
Shortly after reporting Andrei and the execution of the Nazi Spy, Fidel he had claimed his name was, Dalis heard the explosions "Fuck" he yelled grabbing onto a nearby table to steady himself.
It must be bombs planted by Andrei or the spy
In the police quarters people ran around rampantly someone yelled. "They are escaping its the traitor Andrei Malachenko"
Fuck Andrei was his assignment he should of kept track of the fucker, but now I have to catch him before its too late.
Acting quickly ran to find the one person he knew that could help him get this bitch, Vadim Chuikov. Dalis had heard just 10 minutes before that he was in the station, everyone had it was the famed assassin after all. Once the panicked agent found the assassin he didn't hesitate he reached into his back grabbed a 100 round drum mag of MGR thrust it into the mans hand and said.
"Theres no time I'll pay you another hundred if you help me take them alive."
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