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Post by tharina on Aug 11, 2014 17:42:17 GMT -5
With a relaxed smile she chewed on something that was just sold to her as 'something close to tabaco'. To be honest, Tharina did not care at all what it was, as long as it didn't kill her. It was only her second time visiting Kitai Gorod and dear Lord, she hadn't missed it. The faces followed her walking down the narrow corridor and If she didn't knew about the hidden wealth in the criminals pockets of this station, she would've guessed that they could not afford lanterns or lights. The ways were dark and the few dim lamps were not enough to see where one was going.
"An Expedition gone wrong... ", she murmured, taking a step out of a dirty alleyway onto a dirtier main thoroughfare. If there was one thing the young Baumanski doctor was not happy about, it was the blockade. She was stuck, no denying that. Almost two days and she could not yet decide how to continue her path back home. Still, she hoped for a group of Reds who might take her to Revolution Square. Damn it, she would crawl through the old tunnels air pipes, if she only had the manpower to actually survive that stupidity. For now, she would take her time. Enjoy life. Make herself forget.
She shuddered. Never before did she even think about forgetting. Usually, she was the one taking notes, trying to remember every little detail of every very second her life had to offer. After the Gardens, she wanted to sit down, to drink and to cut her curiosity out of her like a tumor.
As if her feet heard her thoughts she walked up to a bar, a shabby and tacky hut. The smell of tobacco and weed seemed to pour through the little cracks in the part wooden, part concrete structure. Whatever the bad smell was, entering the pub was a better idea than standing on the middle of the street in the lousiest crap of a Metro Station. She adjusted the flight cap on her head, which was a nice accessoire - but couldn't hide the bald head of the woman - and grabed her kitbag close as she walked through the bar's entrance.
The inside was worse than the outside. The floor seemed to be made up by ashes, dirt and bottleshards, the people were the very antithesis to trustworthiness and the light was not any better than on the streets. For a second she thought about turning around, but her head intervened.
'Just because this looks bad, doesn't mean you won't find worse. You already dressed up, no one is gonna steal from you. At max, they might try to buy an hour of your time, Tharina. Keep calm, sit down, grab something to drink. You're stuck, Lady... ', she told herself, ironing her dirty but not-so-ragged trouser suit and the lab coat over it with her bare and sweaty hands and looking for a place to sit, before getting her feet up on the table, leaning back and scratching her nose in thought. 'Let them have alcohol', she begged herself. She rubbed her eyes which adapted to the gloomy room. One man stood with his back to her table, stuck in conversation with what Tharina would have called a 'tunnel hag'. She could not guess the lady's age, but her condition was no good. Her skin, her hair, her breathing. Something had hit her, trauma both physical and psychological, at least she looked like it. But that man... Tharina was positive that they had met before. Her head ached. She waved to the barman and ordered a sto gramm. Time to forget.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Aug 22, 2014 7:48:36 GMT -5
Although not unexpected, Mikhail's outburst rubbed Balalaika like flint. She rounded on him, good eye and blind eye glaring into his, her scarred lips twisted into a snarl.
"Do you think I dragged my ass out of the Library just to find out my best friend is dead? Do you think I would cling on to my wretched life just to give up on her?"
By then a glint of madness was showing in Balalaika's eyes. All her being clung to the idea that somehow, somewhere, Nadya was alive. The fact that Mikhail was so quick to bury her only made Balalaika's determination stronger. Perhaps her friend was in trouble and in desperate need of help.
"You might want to give up, but not I" she said, her good eye glinting like the barrel of a rifle in the beam of a searchlight. "If she is dead, the River will show me and...and then I will allow myself to die with a calm mind. You can stay here if you like, I'm going to the River."
The short woman turned to Alexei and Natalya, who had remained utterly silent during the exchange. "You two can come with me if you choose" Balalaika told them before turning to the bar and saying in a loud voice: "Twenty bullets to whoever comes with me through the Northern tunnel!"
As Balalaika faced the bar, Alexei approached Mikhail and said softly: "You knew my mother?"
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Post by CaptainNips on Aug 27, 2014 3:33:19 GMT -5
His expression was stoic, and strangely filled with pity as he faced Balalaika's protests. her anguish was clear, his rejection practically dripping off every single word. It was misery, and Mikhail had been through it all already. Many a time he had sought aid from Exhibition, trailed and nearly begged the stalkers to go with him to just investigate the mysterious ruins in the Gardens. Al for naught. The fear of ghosts, of the dark ones, was too high, and was a contagious belief throughout the station. And soon, that contagion spread to Mikhail... and it was clear that no one would be going up there any time soon.
And as he listened, his gaze first on her but soon dwindling onto his mug, her next words hit him like iron. "I did not give up!" Mikhail snapped, his eyes darting to Balalaika. Yes you did. "I did not! I have tried, and thought and thought, and all signs point towards her passing."
The fellow stalker's stubbornness was revolting, pestering him beyond belief. And Mikhail grimaced. River... clam mind. There was no dying in this hell-hole with a calm mind! Mikhail's conscience was far from calm at that time, that's for sure. Everything inside him was conflicting, second-guessing and disproving his own self. It was torture. Mikhail listened as Balalaika announced her fruitless expedition. And even still, the side of him without hope clung on desperately. No one will go... chasing ghosts. What makes her any different than I?
The burly stalker drank, letting down his mug with a heavy thud.. and someone approached him. "You knew my mother?"
That voice. Familiar it was, and Mikhail couldn't help but allow a shiver to run down his spine as he looked vaguely to the side. It was the young man, now looking and standing next to him like a statue. And those eyes. He was, indeed, a statue... a ghostly apparition. "Yes." was all he could let out at first, as if all along this young man's parent was Adder. "I knew your Mother..." his gaze had grown distant, like it always did. "We went on a few surface jobs... she was special, alright. I may not have known her as well as I should've, but she was special. Special to me," he looked into those cold, slanted eyes, going on. "To all of us."
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Post by derchemiker on Sept 1, 2014 15:01:28 GMT -5
After he ordered another coffe Peter grabbed the ,now half empty , yellowed pistol ammuntion box and let it fall into the open backpack under the table. Then, with his eyes still on the old pre war pistol on the table Peter picked one of the black magazines out of the backpack and pulled an leather case out of his jacket with the other hand. He put the Magazine besides the gun and then opened the leather case, it contained an set of small brushes and an piece of cloth whith oil stains.
Peter put the case down on the table, picked up the pistol and dismantled it into the main parts. While he was cleaning the gun parts he noticed that the discussion at the bar between an stalker and the small woman got out of hand more and more, it even seemed like the woman would have an emotional breakdown. At first he tried to ignore the conversation, but then the woman turned around and announced loudly that everyone who would travel down the north tunnel with her will get an payment of 20 Bullets.
An group to travel with is the thing he needs the most at the moment, shure Turgenewskaja wasn't Polis, but from there he could atleast get back to hansa trough a few service tunnels. Still waiting for someone to react to the offer Peter reasembled the Parabellum gun and put the leather case back into his jacket. Then he loaded the gun with the refilled magazine and pressed the slide releas. As the so called broken arm mechanism snapped back into the normal position he noticed that an young man was aproaching either the woman or the stalker standing next to her. Peter holstered his gun and picked up the old backpack.
After he put the backpack on his back he started to slender to the bar still fighting in his mind wether he should use the opportunity to leave or not. On the one hand he heard pretty horrifying storys about this tunnel in Particular on the other hand he heard atleas 3 times more storys about Kitai Gorod. The young guy he saw earlier was talking with the stalker as Peter reached the bar, he tapped the bar next to the woman and said: "I'll take you offer, 20 bullets and I travel with you trought the northern tunnel." Still with doubts in his mind he waited for the woman to awnser.
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Post by The Karcolith on Sept 2, 2014 17:49:12 GMT -5
"I'll go with you, no payment required." Oleg said quietly, turning back to his untouched drink.
Though the bar wasn't large, it was dark enough to conceal someone if they choose their position carefully, that was just wait Karc had done, sitting idly in the darkness watching as different characters came and went. Watching with some interest as three thugs got beaten to a pulp in mere moments by one man no less. As they scampered he chuckled wondering if they'd try to attack anyone else. The man that'd won the dispute promptly got up and slung a bag over his should and left. After that another man who'd been sitting quietly reading something also left.
Losing interest again he took another sip of the shot before putting the glass down again gently, the bar was quiet again until another person opened the door, this time a remarkable looking individual appeared... She looked like she'd walked through hell and back. From what he could catch of her voice it sounded as rough as her appearance. She was talking with a large man seated at the bar, whatever they were talking about it was clearly had some emotional tie between them as voices were slightly raised, in this time the two that had left came back one than the other. The bigger of the two that returned joined the two at the bar.
"Well that's interesting boyo." He said quietly to himself. "Very interesting."
As he watched on he noticed the trio were glancing at a table where two others were sitting.
"This is gettin' better still." He muttered equally as quiet and took another swig of his drink, finding he'd drained it and the bottle he'd been given was empty too. With a sigh he was about to try and get the bartenders attention when the sickly looking woman announced that she'd pay 20 bullets to anyone that accompanied her up north. Drumming his finger's on the rickety table he came to the conclusion that he'd join, there had been nothing of interest to his search here so the journey would be a good way to earn some bullets after spending a sizable sum in the bar and in the markets. Several people had already agreed to the offer.
"Huh, what's it matter? You won't miss anything here..." He summarised.
Standing and stretching he made his to where Balalaika was still, "Sounds like a deal to me lady, just let me know when you were planning on leaving and I'll get my gear." He said, before adding.
"After all, the more the merrier right?"
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Post by tharina on Sept 4, 2014 18:52:04 GMT -5
She took the disgusting, moldy root out of her mouth. It had been a good idea to stay near the exit and to keep her voice down. Now, the woman had become a little nervous, rubbing her bald head with the one hand while resting her face on the other. The shady room had turned silent over the offer of 20 bullets. In this shithole, stinking of booze, stale food and vomit, 20 bullets often turn out to be a little fortune. Her dirty (but painted red with old car polish) fingernails were strumming over the metal plate. Someone had nailed the rusty peace of scrap iron to old petrol barrels and made a table out of it. Finally, she couldn't hear her fingertips over the murmuring crowd. It was the exact same second, the well-dressed woman remembered, how she got to meet the Stalker, who was given a clout by this old hag for questioning the survival of his friend. She was absolutely sure she knew him. Because she had been there.
At first she wasn't sure about getting herself involved. A little sweat dropped down her neck and made her quiver. She still had some vivid memories of the botanical gardens and her close call. She did escape her fate but only with a wounded knee, two broken ribs and no fresh air left. Her headaches were worse since that day.
That day. She wouldn't call it day, again. She could hear the deafening silence, the voiceless screams in her head, the smell of burned flesh and of clogged filters; she could feel the dirt and mud which glued her fingers together and for a second Tharina thought she remembered the place itself to enter her head. Finally, she shrugged off the memories and wooden splinters scraped her skin as she got up from her chair. She had had to burn some of her old clothes and still, this new suit had more holes and patches than it should have had. The bleached green color must have been beautiful - a decade ago. Now it had the stale green-gray color of mold and perfectly fit the raddled and worn-out labcoat. She made a few careful steps, shouldering her bag and approached the well-known stranger.
"Are you sure you wanna go back there, boy?", she sad, tipping on Mikhails back and smiling away the retrospection of the dark days before. "I'm sorry... what was your name again? We didn't really get the chance of smalltalk, I guess." She nodded at the surrounders, trying to get a good look at this group of people, willingly throwing themselves at the dangers of the north tunnel. "It is you, isn't it? We saw each other on the outside. I guess it was you. Or you bumped into the person I saw and stole his very equipment."
The stalker turned around and was still for a moment. Tharina couldn't guess if that was due to the circumstances or she really ment a different person. Either way, he didn't answer before...
"After all, the more the merrier right?"
The girl from Baumanskaya snarled at the man talking. "Oh well, If many men on one place wouldn't always end in trouble, then maybe we would still be able to see the surface without packing ourselves into rubber and glass. In fact, the more, the more conspicuous a group can be. But I'll let you figure this out on your own." She smirked and took a sip of that bitter water which they dared to call beer in this dark hole of a tavern.
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Post by dehotherguy on Sept 5, 2014 15:24:34 GMT -5
Sid began to doze off, arms crossed and a half empty bottle of vodka on the table. A job to Polis had been interrupted by the Reds, who blocked off the tunnel. Until the tunnel was open once again, there was little to do but wait.
Sid looked up after hearing a croaky voice's offer of 20 bullets for an escort job through the Northern Tunnel. Short on bullets, and with nothing better to do, the half Korean mercenary got up from the table and walked to the bar. "I'm in."
(I'm kinda worried that I'm interrupting a post order, so if I am, just lemme know and I'll delete this post and wait until I can post)
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Sept 7, 2014 15:52:35 GMT -5
Balalaika's scarred lips twisted into a snarling parody of a smile. So far three people had taken up her offer. The other patrons simply looked away or muttered among themselves. The Northern tunnel's reputation was the stuff of legends, as a caravan could enter it and never be seen again. Many myths and hypotheses surrounded that tunnel, and one of them had been formulated by Nadya...the simple thought of her old friend made Balalaika's twist in anguish and strengthened her determination to go through with her plan. As she spoke again, Nadya's voice slowly worked its way through her mind.
"All right, that's one, two, three brave Metro people who'll be earning themselves twenty military grade bullets! But I'm going to need more people than this!" She said, "We all know small groups get swallowed up by that tunnel!"
...I've been through that tunnel, the one between Prospekt Mira and Kitai-Gorod. Twice, in fact. Once with a group of ten travellers, and once alone. I'll never repeat that last experience, though...that tunnel has some rather unusual phenomena going on. It's as if a great vortex is there. Not a visible one, mind you...
"We've all seen how large caravans go through there without any trouble" said Balalaika.
...more like a psychic vortex. An inner phenomena linked to the tunnel itself. When a large group walks through that tunnel, nothing happens, but when a small one takes the same path, they vanish. I don't know what became of those who vanished, but when I was alone in that tunnel, it was as if I was slowly drifting into myself. I went so far within my own self that I almost became lost, and a man who loses himself on the winding paths of his mind never returns to the safe, sane world of the living.
Balalaika stopped and waited. Surely more people would take her offer. Twenty bullets was not a price you refused in the Metro, especially not if you were the sort to be stuck in Kitai-Gorod.
"We'll go" said the AK-slinging woman. The snake-eyed young man beside her nodded in agreement, and Balalaika's smile returned.
"And that's five people, my friends! Who's next?"
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Post by CaptainNips on Sept 9, 2014 4:13:56 GMT -5
His shoulder's jumped at the short tap. Head darting around, Mikhail's eyes widened. "Where in the hell did you come from...?" Mikhail forced a grin to mimic hers to make light of the past. His words were certainly his thoughts when he first saw this stalker. Muddied, tattered and barely hanging onto life, both Nadya and Mikhail were quite at a shock to catch eye of her. But now, here she was... another addition to the apparent reunion of many of Mikhail's past acquaintances. The burly man couldn't say he remembered her name either.
"It's Mikhail, Mikhail Zukov," he nodded. "Yours? My apologies too. It's like I'm seeing ghosts everywhere now. Ever since that shit over at the Gardens." The stalker shuddered, remembered that feeling... that vision. The effects were dastardly cold on his heart, and Mikhail barely remembered what came after the collapse, and what had even become of Tharina. All he could recollect was searching, digging through that stone with bruised and bloodied hands. Searching.
"Da... it's me, alright." Not on the inside. "But if there's anyone who gets my cold understanding of what happened over there, it's you. Balalaika over there is trying to dig up something best left buried. We'd only be meeting face-to-face with it again." Mikhail said, eyes manic, suddenly realizing what a freak he sounded like. Though then again, he had said "we". Mikhail went over the hard truth over and over in his head, eyes studying and observing each volunteer and more stalkers rallied to Balalaika's now promising croaks. "Bl'yat, I can't just let Oleg and Balalaika go without me anyway."
Pushing his stool back, Mikhail stood up to his full height, Saiga at the ready as if already entering the tunnels. Lowering his hand to make a final and swift swig of his vodka, Mikhail sighed with the thought of that possibly being his last drink. "I'm in. Though these humble stalkers here should know what they're getting into, Balalaika." A great pit formed in Mikhail's heart, both gladdened and saddened to see so many.
They were only doing it for bullets... the entire thing felt horrid to the ex-Hansa grunt. Why drag all these poor souls into their problem. A problem that dealt with... things beyond understanding. Yet, cannon fodder was needed.We're all fodder in the Metro. For some reason, Mikhail couldn't help but shake off the instinct that not everyone would come back in one piece. As observed through all his experience, you rarely could avoid loss on such bold endeavors.
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Post by derchemiker on Sept 10, 2014 10:00:35 GMT -5
Looking at the other people that agreed to the offer, Peter noticed that some of them already seem to know each other.
"I'm in. Though these humble stalkers here should know what they're getting into, Balalaika."
Wondering what the stalker meant with "...what they're getting into..." He leaned against the bar, looked at balalaika and waited for the explenation.
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Post by The Karcolith on Sept 10, 2014 20:11:26 GMT -5
Karc turned and smiled a sarcastically friendly smile at the woman.
"While I'm aware it ain't no walk in the park lady." He stated while pointing to his expressionless face, "Ignoring my ever so optimistic appearance I like to try and see the positives in ventures like this, since it might be our last."
He left to pick up his gear from his small living quarters, kicking the door open and letting bang shut behind him.
Oleg mean while had remained silent since volunteering, it had been some time since he'd ventured north and wasn't sure if the influx people agreeing so readily was a good thing or not, he knew he could look after himself but didn't want to leave anyone behind, but knew self preservation was an attribute that helped scavengers stay alive, and putting his neck on the line for others wasn't something he did often.
As he pondered this, the man with a strange accent returned. Now with his rifle slung over his back, a modified pistol hanging from his waist along with his backpack.
"No armour?" Oleg asked as Karc reconvened with the waiting group.
Pulling the collar of his shirt down to reveal the light body armour Karc commented.
"I like to travel light." He said shrugging and leaning against the bar, also waiting to hear from their croaky voiced leader.
((Idly waiting to start...)
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Post by tharina on Sept 14, 2014 5:54:21 GMT -5
She frowned. Everyone in this room seemed to rush for adventure. Only Mikhail watched the scene with the same amount of worries in his face as she had in her heart. She took the drug-like weed she had chewed on a few minutes back and put it into one of the many improvised ashtrays on the tables, some made from old tincans, some made of broken glass bottles. She rubbed an itch out of her right eye and took a minute to stand and watch.
Dust and Smoke filled the air of the bar, followed by the smell of alcohol and gunpowder. Shady people were all around, acting drunk but listening with a glitter in their eyes. Balalaika was a fearless woman to speak of bullets in the mid of a bunch of criminals. Finally, she turned towards Mikhail again, her usual grin was gone and her eyes reflected the memory of the walk she had done next to the grim reaper. Without thinking about it, she put her left hand up to her rib, which had taken quite a while to heal. "Tharina." she said, with a soft and gloomy tone to her voice. The bald woman looked at the stalker with concern.
"Are you sure you want to go up there again? Think about it. It's a place of death. I lost 4 people up there and almost died myself. To be honest, I think you're the only other person I know who's been in the gardens and came back alive. And you certainly look like it was not a stroll in the park." She pulled her trousers up and tightened her belt. "And I really don't want to be known as the last living visitor of the Gardens. Actually, I would have loved to... " she paused, hesitating to continue her talk, then moving closer to the stalker, whispering with low voice, " ... I was glad to see you. I'm still not so sure about what was real and what I imagined up there. It took me almost a week to think straight again. And that had nothing to do with my lack of filters or scent of drugs around here. Do you... well, am I making any sense to you? I must sound as If I turned insane." She chewed on her lip, then raised her left arm to the barkeeper and shouted, ordering a glass of vodka for her nervous fingers, strumming over her rib.
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Post by dehotherguy on Sept 16, 2014 2:55:39 GMT -5
Sid sat down at a nearby empty table, waiting. Reaching in one of her belt pouches, she pulled out a box of cigarettes. Taking one cigarette, she popped it in her mouth and put the box back into the pouch. Leaning towards the table's improvised tin can candle, she lit the cigarette, and took a long puff. The Northern Tunnel. It was a mysterious place, another example of the Metro's countless anomalies. To some, these aspects of the Metro were incomprehensibly frightening. To others, they were just everyday features of this post-war world.
Sid leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, waiting.
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Post by Lawnmower Joe on Sept 24, 2014 5:01:38 GMT -5
While the bald stalker spoke quietly to Mikhail, two more stalkers decided to join the group. While Balalaika's smirk remained, she could only feel dread at going through the Northern tunnel. She had only been through it with Nadya, and now she would be attempting the crossing without her friend. However, it was better for her and the group to take the oncoming challenge with a smile. Such a show of confidence would bolster morale, and perhaps make the crossing easier. She knew from experience that fear could be just as bad as any unexplained occurrence in the darkness of the tunnels.
"Very well! We have everything and everyone we need" she rasped, "Now let's go!"
Balalaika limped her way out of the bar, not even bothering to look behind her. She knew the group would follow. Outside the bar, the many scents of Kitai-Gorod enveloped her. A scantily clad woman looked at Balalaika enticingly, but the scarred stalker ignored her and continued on her path to the Northern tunnel. At one time she may have stopped and asked for the woman's "services", but now Balalaika had only one purpose in her mind. When she arrived at the Northern guard post, her hob-nailed boots alerted the watchmen to her presence. A tall man with shaved hair and an Adidas track suit turned to face her, a Soviet pistol protruding from a holster on his belt.
"You goin' North?" he asked, eyeing the small stalker and the group behind her.
"Yes" answered Balalaika. The man cocked an eyebrow.
"Looks like folks are gettin' real desperate now with the Reds closin' the other tunnel" he said, "All right then, you go through. Be careful out there. We ain't sendin' out search parties to look for lost stalkers."
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Post by CaptainNips on Nov 9, 2014 4:41:51 GMT -5
Tharina's words barely sunk in enough for Mikhail to hesitate on his choice. It was the same thing, the same brooding thought process that had went through his mind countless times before. There was no turning away from this one, no matter how ludicrous the risk. He'd help Balalaika and this rag-tag group of mercs go on this mad chase for a ghost. There was no other choice. There was no point in convincing them. It was true, Mikhail and Tharina were of the few, if not the only, stalkers to survive a trek to the Gardens. The only others who could have supported their claims... their visions of it, of death... had already been consumed by it. Even Nadya.
Mikhail closed his eyes and shuddered briefly, "Believe me, I saw it too. And if we make it far enough... I don't doubt we'll be seeing it again." The burly, heavily armed stalker looked to the gathered crowd at the bar. They had good numbers, decent firepower. But the former Hansa soldier wasn't convinced of its durability. He'd been in nearly every tunnel imaginable, even down to Sevastopol. He'd seen full task forces, machine-guns and cars, you name it, take to those dark tunnels, only to never be seen again. In the worst cases, not a trace left behind. Just blood and silence. With this rag-tag group, even numbering near 8, the veteran still sensed their chances to be low in the dirt. Especially for where they were going.
"Though from how it sounds, we won't be going towards the Gardens." he turned back to Tharina. "Balalaika has somewhere else in mind."
Mikhail heard the woman give the all-clear to depart, and rose with a sigh. Taking one last swig of his tea, slapping down a bullet, the man hollered. "Oi, barkeep. I expect better mushroom tea by the time I return. There must be some remnants of that VDNKh stuff lyin' around."
And the group was off, Mikhail following with Saiga slung over his shoulder. Walking through the station, past the blockaded checkpoint, and past the many wonders of Kitai-Gorod, hopefully not for the last time. Nodding shortly to the guard, Mikhail hopped down to the tracks. As they walked aways a bit, beginning to be shrouded by darkness, the station's lights growing farther behind them, he flicked on his headlight. "Alright, I expect you all know the drill. Stay close, light on, and weapons at the ready. Those at the rear, keep a good watch. There's a reason that no one else took this tunnel..."
The echoes of his words faded through the tunnel, the man falling into place near Oleg and Balalaika. Mikhail attempted to bring light to whole reckless escapade, despite his instinctual frown, instant when shrouded by the Metro's darkness. "Just like old times, eh?"
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