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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jun 25, 2014 17:18:14 GMT -5
"If the Reds hadn't blocked the tunnel to Revolution Square, we would be in Polis by now" grumbled Alexei. He tapped a grubby finger against the tin of his mug. Natalya, his aunt, was facing him across the small circular table they were sitting at. Alexei blinked, his eyes stinging from the thick cigarette smoke that filled the tiny bar's stuffy air.
His aunt...only a few days ago she was still a weird stranger that Opal had taken under her wing. He still found it hard to believe that Natalya was from outside the Metro, let alone the surface. He had imagined his family many times when he was a child, wondering what his mother and father looked like, and if he had any relatives. His aunt, however, shattered every single image he might have had in his mind. For one, she was coarse and vulgar, even more so than his native station's fishermen. She seemed to not care at all about her appearance, unlike most women he had met.
And most of all, she was violent.
"-Those Reds didn't seem too wary" she said, her voice low and husky, "with a bit of planning and some luck, we could try and sneak through their blockade. I'd say they're either not expecting the folks in Kitai Gorod to march forth and attack them, or they simply don't consider this blockade as important enough."
"Nat" said Alexei with a sigh, "I'm not going to run the risk of pissing off the Red Line. They have spies everywhere."
"Then how do you suggest we reach Polis? Take a detour through the Ring Line? Trek across the surface?"
Natalya lifted her mug and drank, knocking back the foul liquor as if it were water. Alexei sipped his own drink cautiously, and shuddered at the acrid taste.
"Either way we're screwed" she said, "we have no idea where Nadya is, we have no money to pay the Hansa...we might as well just sit tight and hope we don't get our throats cut in our sleep."
Alexei leaned back and sighed. She was right. As far as he could see they were stuck in Kitai-Gorod. As he mulled over the matter, a shabby-looking man approached Natalya and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey Miss, got any bullets to spare for a poor old man?"
"-No" she replied coolly, "and get your hand off my shoulder."
"Now now, I'm sure we can make some kind of deal..." said the man, opening the folds of his dirty brown coat. Inside were small plastic bundles containing a wide variety of powders and herbs, undoubtedly drugs. There was the a soft metallic click and the drug dealer found himself with the barrel of an APS Stechkin jammed into his gut.
"Piss off, old man" said Natalya, "or I'll fill you so full of holes they'll want to hire you for the whore house."
The man muttered and left them alone. Alexei saw a few cautious glances in their direction, but the people of Kitai-Gorod seemed otherwise unalarmed. They had probably seen many fights, and a threat at gunpoint had lost its menace long ago. Natalya tucked the machine-pistol back into its holster, sighing irritably.
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Post by CaptainNips on Jun 26, 2014 4:17:29 GMT -5
"What do you mean you're 'not going there'? Look, I don't have a good rep with those commies either, but a man needs a ride you know? Those damned officers don't trust lone stalkers heading to their checkpoints alone..." especially when equipped like he was now. It was as if the Reds could smell even the ex-Hansa grunts.
Mikhail looked persuasively to the man, but the railcar keeper's eyes remained heavy as stone, and his position just as adamant. "I've been telling you what I've told every other person on this station. Those uptight Reds told me the very same very explicitly." he said, speaking to the veteran next as if he was phrasing a complex statement to a child. "'The tunnel to Ploshchad Revolyutsii has been blockaded by the Red Line. No one goes through except for themselves or allies of Comrade Moskvin'."
Allies of Moskvin... Mikhail found that amusing; he doubted that any gangster on Kitai-Gorod would call themselves 'allies' to that wretched bastard. As he stated before, Mikhail wasn't what you would call a dear friend to the Reds either. He'd sooner gun down a corrupt officer than pass idly by him, but bullets and opportunity called for him to pass through Revolution Square and into Polis... and Mikhail had grown impatient.
"Then run right through the bastards!" he exclaimed, mostly out of frustration and desperation. "You just drive on right passed 'em and I'll do all the shooting."
The grey-haired driver shook his head, obviously perturbed as he began to resume business to packing up his supplies, "You and what fucking army? You may have that fancy automatic shotgun of yours, but no one can take on those Reds. Go on, go home. You're wasting my breath. I can get you to Kusnezki most, easy, but not the Square. Period."
Bl'yat. Mikhail walked away, shooing off the driver as if he was the nuisance. Kusnezski most was not Revolution Square, and it would not take him to Polis... unless he wanted to wade through waves of Commies and Nazis to get there. The Square he could handle, he had contacts, but it was his only way. Now, that only way was blocked, and the Stalker saw little to do except wait it out and hope the latest grudge between the Reds and gangsters would die out.
Going away from the tracks he walked past the beggars, the tents, the butchers, the weaponsmiths, the whorehouses, and the scores of gunmen... gangsters, always peering at the Stalker grunt with suspicion. Eventually, deciding it was best to escape their gaze, Mikhail strode into the nearest bar. It was a quaint place, and would have been pitch dark without the use of candles. There were few in the tiny establishment, but the bar was already full of the smoke of cigarettes and hashish, a substance Mikhail was all too familiar with. The large man took a seat towards the back, his table near a woman and young man in discreet conversation. He sat facing the door, laying his Saiga against the chair and his skull-chalked helmet before him on the charred wood.
Moments later, he wasn't the only one to glance curiously as the woman to near him placed a rough man at gunpoint, with the man scurrying off soon after. The ex-Hansa chuckled to himself.
Good ol' Kitai Gorod, you'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, he thought, swearing to himself he'd heard the phrase somewhere before.
Mikhail shrugged and then sighed, leaning back in his chair, contemplating his disposition. Nothing was going his way, nothing. Ever since the Gardens. The Gardens...
"What can I get you, sir?"
Mikhail was snapped out of his daze, a portly man with a bushy mustache appearing to wash his table with a moist rag. The stoic Stalker placed two rounds on on the table, "Got any mushroom tea?"
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Post by derchemiker on Jun 26, 2014 15:52:29 GMT -5
"Out of all possible stations, why do I have to get stuck at Kitai Gorod?" tought Peter as he saw that the woman at the table next to his was holding an man in an worn out coat at gunpoint. After the shady looking man, who seemed like some sort of dealer, left the bar in a hurry, Peter turned back to the, now almost worthless research results, he collected at VDNCh.
Almost two and a half years ago he was at Prospect Mira, he wanted to sell chlorine tablets for water purification to the Hansa, as travelers, coming from Richskaja, brought the first storys from horrifiyng cratures that where attacking the VDNCh: taller and stronger than every human in the metro and their skin was completely black. Some said that it's only a matter of time until these mutants, called "Dark Ones", will overrun VDNCh and then attack the Ringline. It seemed that after a week passed, even the station lead got a bit worried about this mysterious threat.
Peter swiftly saw an opportunity to earn some bullets. At the first chance he travelled down to VDNCh to get as much informations about these mutants first-hand as he could take. He reported for every guard duty at the Border to Botanitscheski Sad that he could take and took photos of every attack that happend during his stay, observed these creatures thoughtfully and listened to every story the guards told him about the mutants.
After two weeks of studying the Dark Ones Peter came back to the Ringline and selled the informations he collected for 50 Bullets to the station commander at Prospect Mira. It was suprisingly easy for him to convince the man that the VDNCh will fall soon and that the Dark Ones will be immediatly at the Borders of Prospect Mira.
After this trade he stayed at Prospect Mira and worked some time for the Hansa as an chemist, in exchange for some bullets and all the Chemicals he needed for his experiments.
Things were going fine for him. About 4 days ago he finally startet his journey to the Polis in order to sell his old research results from VDNCh to the chroniclers, academics and scientists, when suddenly the Communist`s closed the Revouliton Square. Now he is stuck at Kitai Godo until the Reds eventually come to the rational again.
He was lost in thoughts about the past two years until the stout bartender came back to his table "Here is the coffee you ordered."
"Thank you." answered Peter, still a little lost in memories. He took three Bullets out of his Jacket and gave them to the Bartender "The rest is for you" then grabbed an sugar cube out of his pocket of and threw it in the cup. After a few minutes he tought to himself "If theres some safe and warm station in the Metro, at this Station your the farthest away from it." Smiling about the reference he just made, Peter drank his coffee quietly and observed the other people that were sitting in the Bar.
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Post by The Karcolith on Jun 28, 2014 11:47:33 GMT -5
Oleg pulled the heavy grate back over the manhole leading up onto the surface and made his way down the rusting ladder, the surface's wind howl grew quieter and quieter until it was just a distant whisper, the heavy load over his shoulder dug in uncomfortably, with a jarring wrench with each rung he descended until he touched down and felt the solid ground beneath his worn boots. Making his way through a labyrinth like maze of maintenance tunnels he put his shoulder to the rusted service door and hefted, the heavy door was sagging on it's hinges and ground open slowly with an irritable rasp that echoed off the walls of the tunnel. Once he was through he rammed the door again forcing it shut with a loud clang.
Taking a moment to catch his breath and swap the heap sack to his other shoulder. He'd intercepted a patrol of Reich members and had slaughtered them, taking their weapons, filters and other useful items that he could scavenge from their corpses. Kitai-Gorod seemed as good as any place to sell the wares, maybe give away some of the additional food if he couldn't sell it. He loathed the that place but also found he was drawn to the place, running from past meant it was the perfect place for someone like him. His past didn't matter, just that he could get hold of things that others couldn't from the surface.
Nearing the checkpoint he dug into his pocket for his passport but most of the guards knew him fairly well, occasionally finding cigarettes or even narcotics that he'd often give them as bribe. Lifting his hood off and nodding to the guard on duty the man waved him through as another group was being searched.
"What the fuck!?" One of the people in the group cried out. "How come he doesn't get searched and we do?"
The guard strolled up to the man and spat at his feet and muttered. "Regular visitor, now pipe down."
Continuing quietly he noticed several more notable characters in the crowd, a couple eying him a little to eagerly. Oleg sighed, he'd hoped to avoid this but obviously some had taken note of his coming and goings. Spotting a small, dark bar he headed for it, it wasn't really his ideal place but in such a small area away from the crowds he'd be able to take care of these prospecting thieves.
Entering quickly he placed the heavy bag down and pushed under his table before giving the barkeep a wave, signalling him to come over.
"Two bottle of vodka, one empty." He said quietly, pushing a fistful of high grade rounds into the man's hand.
Moments later the two bottles and a glass were placed on the table. Oleg poured a drink but left it untouched, taking a several swings from the bottle before putting back on the table and fastened the lid. Looking around the bar now that he'd adjusted to the darker surroundings he saw several interesting people amongst the usual visitors to the bar, the watching an old man shuffle back to the bar muttering he looked to the two sitting together, their body language couldn't be more opposite of each other related perhaps? Another man pouring over papers was nearby as well another, largish man sitting by the related couple. Before he could contemplate any longer a group of three entered and made a beeline for Oleg, stopping on the other side of his small table.
"Hand the loot over quietly and you can leave here alive." The largest of the three said in a hushed tone.
"Heh, you really think that little threat will convince me?" Oleg scoffed his piercing, pale eyes locked onto the apparent leader of the three. Reaching for the glass of vodka casually.
Drawing a filthy looking knife, the man was about to say something but before he could get a word out Oleg splashed the stinging liquid in their faces and took up the empty bottle, with a hard swing the bottle smashed over the man to the right's face dropping him as he howled in pain, next he swung his fist still holding the neck of the broken into the jaw of the other lackey who collapsed unconscious. Dropping the remnants of the bottle he knocked the knife from the leaders hand before drawing his revolver and holding leveling it at the man's face. Hearing the distinctive click as the revolver was cocked he instantly went still holding his hands up to his face.
Oleg smiled cruelly and delivered a savage kick to the leg the man cried out and collapsed holding his shin and groaning in pain. Crouching down he spoke just loud enough so the bandits could hear.
"Next time you won't be so lucky. Now get out."
Watching as the trio pitifully left he looked about the bar, most of the locals had already lost interest, but some of the others were still looking, a trifle of disbelief or dismay, with a mild shrug Oleg took up his gear and loot and went to leave, but one of the faces seemed familiar, glancing back he tried to remember where he'd seen the man before but it wasn't clear. Pushing open the door he strode quickly towards the markeys to offload his loot as quickly as possible.
As he walked he tried to remember where he'd meet that man before.
As he neared the market it dawned on him, they'd defended Nadya sometime ago, from a pack of thugs. His memory was hazy of the events to he could remember the man's name. Mikhail.
((Changes can be made))
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jul 16, 2014 4:54:03 GMT -5
"Now that was fun to watch" cackled Natalya. A fight had broken out between one man and a trio of thugs only a few tables away and, much to her and Alexei's surprise, had ended with the lone man's victory. Alexei sighed and shook his head before taking another hesitant sip of vodka. His aunt smirked and took another gulp of her own drink.
"At least you Metro rats can fight" she rasped, wiping her dry and cracked lips with a dirty sleeve. She eyed her chipped cup again and immediately finished its contents, letting the vile liquor scorch its way down her throat. Alexei eyed her disapprovingly.
While the odd pair marinated in alcohol and frustration, a diminutive figure had stealthily made its way into the bar. It skirted quickly past Oleg and made its way to the counter. It then threw back the heavy hood that hid its head, revealing a pale heavily scarred face. As the barman served Mikhail his "mushroom tea" (in actual fact probably just some hot water with mushrooms dumped in it), she looked up at him and rasped: "Vodka, please."
The barman swiftly served the small woman, trying to avoid staring at her milky and bloodshot eye. An old gash ran from her upper lip to her forehead, exposing her teeth in an ugly snarl and leaving one of her eyes blind and useless. Her black hair was clean and combed, but some of it appeared to have fallen out or burned off by some chemical, leaving only pale scarred skin in its stead. Most disturbing, however, was the sound of the woman's breathing. Every breath came in a faint but laboured wheeze, sometimes interspersed with a nasty bubbling sound, almost as if bloody phlegm was shifting through her damaged lungs. She took a quick sip of vodka and set it back down on the counter. Her good eye wandered over the room, slipping over every face present until it came to Alexei and Natalya's table. There the woman froze and stared. A flash of confused recognition seemed to go through the cold blue of her good eye. Silently she turned to Mikhail and nudged him softly.
"Hey, do you know those two?" she asked him, nodding in the direction of Alexei and Natalya. As she looked up at Mikhail, another glint of recognition went through her good eye. "Wait...I know you. You're Mikhail. We-"
Her sentence was cut short by a burst of violent coughing. Her small shoulders shook visibly with each cough. When the fit receded, the woman's eyes widened and she gasped for breath, her mouth hanging open like that of a beached fish.
"T-t-t'voyu...t'voyu m-mat" she mumbled, hastily dabbing at a small trickle of red at the corner of her lips. "Y-yeah, I remember you. Do you remember me? I'm...I'm..."
The woman wheezed, her lungs producing a weak whistle.
"B-Balalaika" she finally managed.
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Post by CaptainNips on Jul 16, 2014 9:03:39 GMT -5
The man chuckled from his spectator's view of the bar scuffle, grinning in his dimly lit corner. "A wretched hive of scum and villainy..." Mikhail said to himself again, discreetly flicking the automatic fire switch up on his Saiga. He never knew when suddenly 'old friends' would come after him. Old friends.
The stalker heard the brawling man speak, a loud growl of a threat before he picked up his belongings. Mikhail recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. Years of treading the wretched surface and tunnels mostly alone had set his mind fixed on other things, and he found it hard to remember all his past coworkers. It was only until after he had left, when the veteran could place his name.
"Oleg... That was Oleg. Shit, I should've bought him a drink. We could've had a few laughs and talks of old times," he cursed softly to himself. Oleg was a past acquaintance of his, Mikhail joined him to defend Nadya, who was then at the mercy of an angry mob of paranoid mutant-haters. They even scavenged a military warehouse that same day, where Mikhail got his trusty Saiga.
"Shit..." You needed all the friends you could get in the Metro, and it was a rarity if you ever saw old ones in the same station as you. People either move on, or they die. Sometimes you don't even know which of these two paths they went down. And such was the cruel fate of all in the Metro: You're trapped. Doomed to wake in this cruel nightmare, again, again, and again.
His gaze darted back up, his train of thought being broken by the large presence of the barman. "Your tea, sir." Mikhail thanked him, "Spasiba," and looked inside his mug as the barman went off to tend to a hooded customer. Oh come on, fucker just plops a shroom in and calls it tea! The world is against me, I promise ya. The miffed customer took a sip, his face contorting. I miss VDNKh already... they at least knew how to make a good cup of tea.
"Hey, do you know those two?" Someone nudged him.
"Hmm?" Mikhail turned, embarrassed at first at being caught nearly gagging on his 'tea'.
But this person actually was gagging, after saying his name and claiming she knew him. The former Hansa guard's brow raised, as he raised a hand to her shoulder, "Easy there, sit down." Slightly trying to aid her to set down next to him at the table. As he did so, Mikhail tried to place the stranger... he had practice with Oleg, but this woman was scarred beyond belief. Not to mention her voice croaked like a frog. She could've been anyone, and so Mikhail patiently awaited for her to speak.
Between a wheez, she finally said, "Balalaika." Mikhail's face shone in recognition. "Balalaika! How could I not remember. I saved your ass in Sevastopol, if I recall... from insectoids or some crazy shit." Remember the two paths? Moving on and death, Mikhail assumed long ago that Balalaika had been consumed by the latter, knowing her kind of luck. But it already seemed she'd been consumed by something close to it.
His tone lowering, he looked around, not quite believing the meeting, "Well, it looks like your luck hasn't been so good lately, eh..." He'd have asked her how she was, and exactly what happened to her, but that was a story for another time he reckoned. And so he looked to the pair off to their right, not far from the table.
He peered closely, trying to distinguish features in the dim lighting. He didn't see anything of interest in either the boy or woman when he first entered, but after close examination... he saw it.
"That boy's eyes... They-they're... I've seen them." Mikhail spoke, face paling as if he'd spotted a ghost. His grip tightened on his mug as he said, perhaps a little loudly, "Nadya..."
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Post by derchemiker on Jul 16, 2014 21:21:26 GMT -5
"Stupid petty criminals" thought Peter to himself as he saw that an little group at the bar was a about to rob an stalker that just sat down. "Maybe I should hel-" was the second thing that came to his mind, but before he could even finish that thought the stalker managed to win this more than unequal fight.
As the little group left the bar in an miserable condition Peter smiled "Even in the metro there is some sort of karma". Soon after the criminals the stalker also left. Again Peter was looking around, hoping to find something interesting. He noticed an strange figure at the bar, her face disfigured by the metro itself. Thinking about what could have caused such an injury Peter came to the conclusion that it must be either an accident with chemicals or an to him unknown disease. But except for this woman there was nothing worth noticing. "It's time to leave" he tought while getting ready to go.
After he finished his coffee Peter took his backpack and walked to the exit, as he passed the woman and the man sitting at the bar he heard "Balalaika" wondering why they would talk about an music instrument he pushed the door open an stepped out. Wandering trough the station he decided that the market is worth a visit. Peter turned into an dark ally to the right of him and could already see the lights of the market at the and of the ally.
Unfortunately half way trough this dim path, an figure armed with an knife that hid behind an tent stepped out infront of Peter "Give us your backpack and your weapon." mumbled the masked man, standing right in front of him. He already knew that scum, the was the leader of the little group that tried robbing the stalker "But if he is in front of me where are his friends?" this question was answered immediately by someone standing behind Peter "Are you deaf or what?! Give him you Backpack you little bitch!" They surrounded him.
With two guys behind his back and the leader of the group armed with a knife in front of him the chances winning an fight in an dark ally were insignificant small. The only way out of this situation was reaching the market which was only 25 meters away, but first he had to get past their leader.
"Okay,.. I uhm.. you can have my stuff, but please don't kill me." responded Peter. Taking of his Backpack and holding it infront of his Body as an cover, "Look guys, Im an Scientist and in this Backpack ... there is an folder that I would like to keep... would you mind if I take it out?" then he took an Step towards the leader of the group.
"Let me look in it first. Then I decide if you keep it or not." answered the leader, slowly lowering his knife and coming closer to Peter.
Peter got nearer and nearer to this knife swinging scum and slowly moved his hand to the right site of his back pack. "I'll get the folder out" It looked like Peter was about to open the Backpack but instead he swiflty grabbed the black military knife which was attached to the side of his Backpack with some black tape, making it almost invisible in the mody light of the station.
Then he knocked the knife out of the leaders hand with his backpack an rammed his old Army knife into the robbers leg. Peter whispered "Not your lucky day." and leaped over the wounded Bandit which was now laying on the ground screaming. Running as fast as he could trough the small and dark ally Peter almost tripped one or two times. As he finally reached the secureness of the first market stalls he stopped and turned around to see if the other two guys decided to abandon their leader and hunt Peter down, but the only thing he saw were three shadows disappearing in the dark alley, one of them limping and supported at walking by the other two.
He holstered his knife and put on his Backpack again. "Stupid petty criminals" Peter thought again turning to the market. Wandering between the stalls of all kinds of traders looking for something that could help him in the tunnels.
After he sat down on the ground, leaning against an supporting pillar Peter tried to think of an way out of Kitai Gorod, "Anything is better than staying in this Station" he thought "if Im lucky I find someone who is forming an expedition or an caravan I can travel with."
(changes can be made ^^)
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Post by The Karcolith on Jul 18, 2014 13:14:19 GMT -5
Oleg stashed the magazines away in his pack, he'd be eating well for a few weeks with that haul. With a few rounds jingling in his pocket he had his way to one of the more respectable looking butchers selling fresh pork taking a bite from the tasty meal he smiled inwardly, he wasn't used to treating himself but the usual rations he survived on while scavenging were barely palatable he shuddered thinking about the tasteless muck.
Thinking back to the fight he'd just had he slowly made his way back to the bar he'd been in before and to hopefully catch up with Mikhail even if briefly. He noticed one of the other men who was in the bar looking slightly down on his luck. Oleg noticed the German pistol, a slight recall to his past made shudder and clench the his damaged hand, before focusing and moving on back to the bar.
Half expecting to encounter the same robbers from before he was slightly disappointed when he didn't see them. He spotted the little bar and opened the rickety door and stepped in, he saw Mikhail talking to a smaller person and looking at the two sitting near where he'd been sitting before.
Approaching quietly he gave Mikhail a nudge on the shoulder and spoke quietly.
"Mikhail, how have you been?"
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jul 19, 2014 5:03:03 GMT -5
The diminutive woman nodded, satisfied that Mikhail recognised her.
"Remember the Library?" She rasped, "I stayed behind so you could escape. My leg was broken..."
..."C'mon, you fuckers!" She yelled and plucked a grenade from her bandolier. The beasts in front of her seemed to recognise the object and hesitated, a spark of vestigial intelligence that sent chills down Balalaika's spine.
"I have a surprise for you" crooned Balalaika before unpinning the grenade and holding it at arm's length, like a shaman brandishing a talisman. She was gritting her teeth so hard her jaw hurt, and sweat ran down her pale skin. Her broken ankle throbbed angrily.
The Librarians stood stock still. Balalaika shut her eyes, waiting for the explosion that would end her wretched life.
But none came.
"Oh fuck, not a dud" she breathed, her eyes widening in shock. One of the Librarians gave an ape-like shriek and hurled itself at her. Balalaika was thrown sideways into a wall, pain flooded her face and blood soaked her skin. The world went partially dark.
Another blow hit her in the ribs and she screamed. The force of the blow tossed her into the air like a bundle of cloth, and she hit the floor with a sickening crunch. More pain erupted from her left arm, but she was suffering far too much already to really notice. She felt the claws of her assailant digging into her flesh, ready to rip her open like a fish on market day, but Death never came. Instead the room shook with a mighty detonation, the roof caved in on them and drowned Balalaika's world with screams and the sound of crashing rubble...
"...I guess the grenade wasn't a dud after all" said Balalaika with a sigh. "I managed to escape and dragged my sorry self out of there. Broken ribs, broken arm, broken leg...it's a miracle I even managed to get out. I made my way out through the basement, but one of the bastards had ripped my gas mask to shreds. I breathed in poisoned air. I got back to Polis and they treated me, but they couldn't do anything for my lungs. I have a few days, maybe a few weeks left to live. Nazdrovie."
With that, Balalaika took a drink. A bitter smile crossed her ruined lips.
"So, you know Nadya?" She said, glancing towards Alexei and Natalya. "She did tell me she had some "family". Namely a sister, and a son..."
She looked straight at Mikhail, gauging his reaction. But just then another man arrived, and Balalaika recognised the one who'd fought off the muggers only a few minutes earlier. Now that he was closer, she recognised Oleg.
"Oleg" she rasped, "it's been a while. Remember me?"
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Post by CaptainNips on Jul 20, 2014 21:23:00 GMT -5
Mikhail listened with eyes widened to Balalaika's story. It reminded him that no matter how good you were or how well you knew the Metro, it always got you in the end. A stalker's time always runs out eventually. Days... only weeks left alive. He could only imagine what was going through her head, regret, sorrow, redemption...? He remained silent, giving a downcast nod. What could he say? It wouldn't change a thing anyway, and the Metro was no place for warm comforts. The stalker had no doubt that if Balalaika hadn't stayed behind, he'd have only days left too.
But now it was another shock that Mikhail was forced to see. Those cat-like eyes, a well-known but almost ghostly sight. It was hard to believe his own eyes at first, but Balalaika proved his thoughts right. "Of course I know Nadya, we did a few surface runs." An acquaintance... she felt more than that to him, before that unearthly stone came crashing down. And for that reason was why his face had paled, and his words were short.
"She did tell me she had some "family". Namely a sister, and a son..."
A sister... a son. Nadya with family? The two didn't seem to go together, and the snake-eyed stalker had never mentioned any traces of it to him. But it seemed to all fit... the boy, just tables away, with a stoic woman, scarred and tough as nails. Son, and sister. He wondered if they knew... pondered how they would react to know Nadya's near inevitable fate. Mikhail had given up believing in her somehow surviving. He had seen that rock fall, and saw her shadow under it. His next cold words illustrated this state of mind perfectly.
"Nadya is dead. A few weeks past. I saw it."
He nearly spat out the last words, suddenly feeling the urge to down a vodka. Mikhail was just about to call the bartender over for a new drink for him and his reunited friend, when someone nudged him. The ex-Hansa near-jumped in his shoulders at the touch, yet calmed at hearing the familiar voice. "Mikhail, how have you been?"
Mikhail looked up, trailing up from the black fist to see the cold eyes of yet another old partner. "Ah... Oleg. I've been better," he said, trying to summon a smile, "I see from earlier, you still have trouble not attracting trouble. Good to see an old partner, you may recognize another next to me..."
The stalker motioned to Balalaika next to him, drawing attention away from him in an act to look hospitable and friendly. His wandering mind couldn't resist gazing back at the 'sister and son'. The boy's eyes, just like his Mother, had an entrancing guise, and Mikhail couldn't help but fall into them and remember the past, memories of the dark. The grip on his Saiga tightened, his spacey gaze more stoic... until he finally motioned the bartender over. "Vodka."
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Post by derchemiker on Jul 22, 2014 17:09:43 GMT -5
Peter stood up again with a sigh, he did not want to spend the rest of the day sitting at the market doing nothing but thinking about the situation he is in. He opened up his backpack and looked trough his belongings while wandering trough the marketplace, after checking that he had enough to eat and drink he checked his Bullets. "Hmm, my P8 .. check .. two magazines .. check .. the Luger reserve magazines.." Peter stopped, he noticed that the reserve magazines of his primary pistol lacked ammuniton, "..verdammt.." he had forgot to rebuy ammunition after he got attacked by a pack of nosalis in the tunnel between Taganskaja and Tschkalowskaja.
He was standing infront of the bullet exchange as he saw that the hadn't any ammunition fitting the pre war pistol."Finding bullets for the Luger in Kitai Gorod is gonna be an pain in the arse" Peter thought, it already was difficult for him to get the right type of bullets at Prospekt Mira. The main part of his bullets were are selfmade because of the unusual caliber this pistol has. So instead of buying anything he asked the guy that worked at the exchange where the next gunsmith is.
He followed the directions that he got from the trader and quickly found himself in front of an small improvised House with an sign over the main entrance that said "Andrejew & Titov, Guns and Ammunition since 1999". As Peter entered the store he saw that to his left there was an wall filled with Posters of Guns, mainly match weapons like small caliber guns and air rifles but also some hunting rifles. He noticed that further back in the room there was an grim looking man sitting on an stool with an shotgun ready to use leaned agains the wall behind him. He gave the guard an nod, turned to the right and walked up to the counter.
Peter couldn't see the Shopkeeper so he rang the little silver bell that was placed on the counter. Immediately he heared an man respond to the ringing from an room which seemed to be the stockroom of the shop "I'll be right there".
"How may I help you?" asked the old man while walking with an big box filled with old pre-war ammunition types to the counter. The trader was probably close to the 70, he was wearing an green lumberjack shirt and an brown leather coat, also Peter already knew his voice he just couldn't place it jet. "I need ammunition with an special caliber for my Pistol, do you have um .. 7.65x21 mm bullets?" said Peter, "7.65 on 21 ..hmm.. thats an strange caliber, I don't even know what guns are using this kind of Bullets." answered the trader. Peter smiled, he pulled the old P08 out of his holster and put it on the counter "This antique for an example.". The Shopkeepers eyes widened as he saw the old pistol "I'd never thought that I would see such an rarity here in the metro, even before the war I only had one customer that buyed now an then a few boxes of ammunition for this such a weapon, he was an professor at the university if I remember it correctly." It was after the old man had said this when it dawned on Peter from where he knew the voice. Peter remembered that the store he used to buy his ammunition from during is time at the moscov university was basicly right around the corner of this station. "Is there an chance that your name is Nikolai Andrejew?"
The next 10 minutes Peter spend chatting with Nikolai about the time before the war and what theyve been doing in the metro. After the conversation came to an end Nikolai said "Well, lets come back to the reason why youre here. You have to know that I was one of the first people that placed an foot on the surface after the war and the first thing I did after admireing the beautiful sky was opening the Storage of my old store and carrying every box of ammunition I could find bit by bit down in this shop, with the help of my son" he nodded in the direction of the guard "so theres an good chance that I have the kind of bullets you need. Just wait a minute." The old man quickly walked back into the Storage and Peter could hear Boxes and cartons moving and after a few minutes he came back to the counter with 6 small packages of the caliber Peter needed. "Thank you very much, how much do I owe you?" said Peter while Taking a bunch of cardridges with AK Bullets out of his Pocket. Nikolai answered "Well, normally I would say about 45 Bullets but given the fact that you are probably the only person in the whole Metro that is able to use this caliber and the fact that I already know and like you I would say the cost about 10 bullets." Peter chuckled "Generous as always." He packed the Luger ammunition in his Backpack and put 15 bullets on the counter "Here, take the little extra, after all you did for me I think you earned it." Peter closed his backpack walked out of the store.
He turned to the left and walked back to the bar, hoping that he would find there some way out of Kitai Gorod.
(Changes can be made and the typos will be corrected before you wake up tomorrow ^_^)
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Post by The Karcolith on Jul 25, 2014 4:44:46 GMT -5
"Ah... Oleg. I've been better," he said, forcing a smile, "I see from earlier, you still have trouble not attracting trouble. Good to see an old partner, you may recognize another next to me..."
Looking to the smaller stalker that Mikhail was talking about the voice was familiar if raspy.
"Oleg" Balalaika rasped, "It’s been a while. Remember me?"
Oleg studied the small woman's face, the twisted features still reminiscent though.
"Balalaika?" he asked, "It certainly has been a while."
Sitting silently for a few moments he thought back to when they'd last travelled together, finally remembering, though when it was, was a mystery to Oleg but it had been a group when he'd first met Balalaika and Nadya along with a few others.
"I haven't seen you since meeting you and a few others near those haunted stations.” He commented, “I can't remember the other two but I remember Nadya was there though the details a hazy at best.”
Looking around the bar again his gaze settled on the two sitting together.
Asking quietly to his old companions.
“Who are they?” He said in a low voice “Clearly they aren’t natives to this shithole of a station. That kid looks familiar but I know I’ve never seen him before.”
((I have little to contribute until we either find trouble or wander somewhere else))
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Jul 27, 2014 12:36:29 GMT -5
"Nadya is dead. A few weeks past. I saw it."
Mikhail's words were like a stab to the heart for Balalaika. For a moment she sat in silence, her eyes unblinking.
"-No..." She said, slowly shaking her head, "That isn't possible. It can't be!"
Still shaking her head she turned her gaze to the dirty floor. Nadya couldn't be dead. Not now. She had dragged herself through the Library and fought her way to recovery only because of Nadya. She had vowed to see the snake-eyed woman one last time before Death carried her away in its cold embrace. But if Mikhail had seen Nadya die...surely he couldn't be mistaken. Balalaika regained control of her thoughts and began to go through the possibilities. If Nadya was dead there wasn't much they could do about it, yet still doubt remained. Perhaps there was a way to find out...
"I need to know" she said grimly, "and there is a way for us to know. Once and for all."
She glanced cautiously around her and leaned closer to Oleg and Mikhail. "There is a place in the Metro that can show us what we need to know, maybe even take us to it. But before we go I need to do something."
Balalaika stood with a wheeze and limped towards where Alexei and Natalya sat. As she drew closer she saw that both of them bore striking similarities to Nadya, especially the boy, whose blue eyes shimmered whenever they caught the light. She stopped at their table, laying her hands down between them. The woman gave her a hard look before snapping:
"What do you want?"
"-I want to know if you know someone called Nadya Orumov" said Balalaika, "also known as 'Adder'."
The woman's eyes widened. "How do you know that name?" She hissed.
"I am an old friend of Nadya's" said Balalaika, "we met a long time ago, and the last I heard of her was that she'd gone missing. If you want to find her, come with me."
The pair glanced at each other, unsure how to take Balalaika's blunt offer. Finally, the young man pushed his chair back and stood, soon followed by the woman. Balalaika nodded and smiled softly before limping back to Oleg and Mikhail.
"Now", she said as Alexei and Natalya arrived at the counter, "I think it's probably safe to say that nobody here knows where Nadya is. However, as I was telling Oleg and Mikhail, here, there is a way of knowing."
"-How?" asked Alexei.
"A special place" answered Balalaika in an enigmatic whisper, "Nadya showed it to me a few years ago. A forgotten place that few have ever been to, and even fewer have returned from. However I believe that it's a risk worth taking. Now I think it would be a good idea to go looking for some hired muscle. It never hurts to have an extra gun covering your back."
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Post by CaptainNips on Jul 30, 2014 22:10:16 GMT -5
The barman had brought the vodka. Mikhail saw Balalaika's disbelieving expression, choosing not to pay attention to it as he slid his mug inwardly towards himself. It hurt him just as much to remind himself of Nadya's passing, and shook his head at the woman's words.
"No... that isn't possible. It can't be!"
"She's dead..." he said again bitterly, his words low almost to a whisper as he raised his mug to drink. "I saw it."
She didn't believe him. Of course... she didn't believe him. Of course, when he was the only one who saw those rocks fall. Only he and that one other stalker, and only God knows what happened to her. The loner was in danger of death when Nadya and him found her, and she could be dead now for all he knew. The Metro takes everyone in the end. Even Nadya.
He took another swig, sighing as he listened hopelessly to Balalaika's ramblings. Mikhail shook his head, finally being able to muster words. "What more proof do you need? I saw those rocks fall. I saw it!"
But she was gone, now limping over to confront the stoic woman and the boy. Shit... he thought, looking to Oleg for some input of some kind, his own eyes seeming to say, Talk some sense into her, will ya? But it was too late, no matter what Oleg would have to say, the young man and woman were now there, standing curiously at the counter next to them. Mikhail sighed, and set down his mug with a thud as he listened.
Way of knowing, special place, risk worth taking, hired muscle... the words tired him. They were words of fantasy Mikhail had long ago went over in his head when he stalked the ghostly halls of VDNKh. No one is going to chase ghosts, especially in the Metro.
"Mother of God..." he cursed, surprised himself that such a religious expletive could escape his lips. "What more proof do you need, Balalaika? Nadya is dead, crushed under rock of the Dark Ones hive." he stated harshly, no longer afraid to say it in front of these two strangers, whatever connection they had with Nadya. But even then... he dared not mention what else he had seen at the Gardens. That presence, that chill, that shadow in his mind. That brief glimpse.
"What is this about hired muscle anyway? No one is going to sign up, and possibly risk their neck, for somebody who's most likely already lost their own." the stalker spoke bluntly, yet truthfully, the scars on his face dimly highlighted by the candlelight. "The Metro takes everyone in the end, Balalaika, you of all stalkers should know that... even someone as special as Nadya."
Mikhail leaned back into his chair, taking a hot breath from his rant. His mind wandered in the pause, zooming back to that day, right back to the Gardens. And it was there that his mind summoned that image... that one glimpse, that feeling of dread, when he saw it. And it was there, that Mikhail realized it was not doubt that was swaying his words, it was fear. And with that, Mikhail reached into his pack. "So, you want proof, eh?" he bitterly said, digging in his pack to finally withdraw a rifle.
Metal and wood bent and splintered, the Nagant could have appeared to be mere scrap as he slapped it onto the counter. Mikhail looked to each of them, studying each of them before his eyes trailed past the experienced woman's fatigues, and onto her companion. His eyes rested on the bright, familiar blue eyes as he spoke. "Nadya's rifle... whatever we found--whatever we disturbed in the Gardens... I never want to provoke again." The stalker shook his head, you could call it superstition, but fear was definitely etched on his face. Whatever mark that thing had left on Mikhail, was still there... burning and fresh.
"So if we want to find Nadya, if she's even alive... I can guarantee you that that thing will be at the end of it.
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Post by derchemiker on Aug 4, 2014 13:30:35 GMT -5
As Peter entered the bar he sat down right where he sat before and opend his backpack. He put one of the ammunition packages he just bought on the tabel and right next to it 2 magazines for his Luger. When he started to refill the magazines, Peter noticed that an stalker had put an old nagant rifle on the counter. Wondering why someone would carry around an broken rifle Peter couldn't think of an better reason than that it probably is a memento of someone the stalker liked.
After he filled the two magazines Peter ordered an coffe, leaned back and waited for something to happen.
Oleg wasn't carrying the rifle. Twas Mikhail.
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