I Am Still Alive. » Places

         A sort of roar was heard in the distance, not too far behind the bus in vehicle terms; maybe a block or two back. A single light pierced out from the tunnel, a few resounding gunshots echoing. The sound was extremely delayed thanks to acoustics in the tunnel. The motorcycle made its way forward, slowly creeping upon the large vehicle ahead. It's rider was fairly interesting, and for some folks on the bus, a familiar, yet hidden, face. Garbed in slightly torn jeans, boots, a coat with a furred collar, dark shirt, he seemed rather fitting to be on the chopper style bike. Dogtags dangling, a bandanna covering the majority of his face, grey hair flying back in the wind.

Rikter glanced down to the shotgun strapped at his shoulder and sitting in his lap, shifting and checking behind him. The bass guitar was still there, good. After a moment, there was a grin going across his lips as he was pulling up near the bus. "They'll learn that I'm not one to stay down in a battlefield...Heheheh." He chuckled, Russian accent flowing from his tongue. Slowly and carefully, he was moving along side the bus, from the side in which the door was at. "Ey, rebyata! Doma papa! [Hey kids! Daddy's home!]" He shouted in Russian at the top of his lungs, hoping at least someone on the unknown bus would hear his voice. Rikter could only presume that his statement would be heard and the voice would be recognized.