Introduction
The year is 2033. The world has been reduced to rubble. Humanity is nearly extinct. A few thousand live on, not knowing if they are the only survivors on the planet. They live in the Moscow Metro - the biggest air-raid shelter ever built. It is humanity's last refuge. It is a world without tomorrow, with no room for dreams, plans, hopes. Feelings have given way to instinct - the most important of which is survival. Survival at any price.
An apocalyptic war on a grand scale has devastated the surface of the Earth, leaving deadly radiation and biological-weapons changed fauna into dangerous mutants. The Moscow Metro, which was built from the beginning, 1935, as a giant underground shelter, becomes the last shelter of humanity. In this unforgiving world, over 20 years the Metro stations of Moscow have become independent states, forming confederations and alliances, even fighting wars, trading, etc. The tunnels are a source of constant dangers - radiation, mental threats and mutant predators take lives of many brave people, who venture between stations to trade for life or travel for other purposes.
One day, news came to your station about a man looking to hire some people to hunt down an artifact in an old, abandoned station, with a reward that would make even the most greedy mercenaries drool. However, the majority of the populace decided against it, as the path leading to this old station is considered one of the most dangerous in the Metro. You, however, are not daunted by this apparent suicide mission. With the reward money, you could retire and spend the rest of your days indulging in what little pleasures the Metro has to offer.
The story begins as you arrive (or are already at) Polis, the largest station in the Metro. The man whom you seek has requested that all who are interested in embarking on this quest meet him in the local pub that afternoon. There you will find others like you whom you will travel with through the Metro in search of the artifact. From here, it is your story...
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STATIONS-
On our journey, we will come across many stations. Here is a list of some of the more prominent ones. While we are not guaranteed to visit all of these stations, it's good to at least read up on them to add a bit of depth. Also, keep in mind that we will be adding more stations as we move along.
Polis - Polis is a group of 4 stations situated at Arabatskaya, Alexandrovsky Sad, Biblioteka Lenin and Borovitskaya station. Throughout the Metro Polis is known as a station of Wealth and Power, and is called "The Last place on earth where people live as people, where they still remember what the word human means, and how it should sound".
Hole station - Hole station is a large independent station, housing many families, soldiers and scouts.
Market station - One of the bigger, more populated stations in the Metro. As evidenced by its name, it houses a large market, as well as a large bar area.
Armoury station - Armory Station, is a Communist controlled station that mass produces a large majority of the weapons seen in the Moscow Metro. Above Armory Station was originally a weapons armory, hence the name, where weapons and ammunition were manufactured. After the nuclear disaster, the workers from the former armory went underground below it, and started a settlement. Since this place had an excess of weapons, and munitions, the settlement thrived, and became one of the biggest in the Metro. Years later, it became under the control of the Communist faction, when threats of Nazis increased. It is now responsible for the majority of the ammunition and weapons created in the Metro, since it houses much of its original factory equipment.
Reich station - The home station of the Nazi's. Not much is known about the station, as only Nazi's are allowed in or out.
C7 - The supposed location of the weapon sought by your employer.
FACTIONS
As a member of the party, you are independent. You could have come from one of the factions, or you could have been a lone wolf all your life. You are also free to sway in support of one or more of the factions.
Rangers - The Rangers are a group of well trained soldiers that servey the metro system individually or in small units helping settlements as well as fighting Bandits, the Reds, the Nazis, and Mutants and appear to have strong ties to Polis.
The Commonwealth of the Stations of the Ring Line - Or Hansa, is the largest coalition of stations with power reaching every part of the metro's ring line.
Communists - Communists or Reds are politically far left soldiers working within the Red Line. They are in total war with the Nazis employing large quantities of units.
Stalkers - A large, unorganized, group of scavengers who venture the ruins of Moscow looking for anything to salvage.
Nazis - A politically far right neo-Nazi army working within the Fourth Reich. They are in total war with the Communists prefering heavy firepower.
Bandits - Are a criminal faction in the Metro universe. They control certain stations throughout the Metro system. They kill travellers and rob others, and they also apparently sell poor merchandise for the price of a genuine copy (i.e Weapons).
MUTANTS
Mutants. The scourge of the Metro and rulers of Moscow's scarred surface. They come in many forms, and are all more than capable of killing a man.
Nosalis - A common mutant found in the metro. These are the most commonly encountered mutants, and will often be dogging us as we venture into untamed tunnels.
Lurker - Small, numerous and agile creatures. They are hardly a threat to groups of people, but be careful not to get separated.
Watcher - A large hersuit mutant commonly found on the surface. They usually howl to attract the attention of the pack.
Demon - A dangerous giant bat-like creature found only on the surface. A single Demon can decimate unwary bands. Those they choose not to kill on the spot are often grabbed and flown to their nests, where one can only imagine what becomes of them.
Librarian - Quasi-Intelligent beasts, very dangerous. However, they will not blatantly attack humans, rather, they will stare at you for some time in an intimidating manner before losing interest and walking away. When this happens, do not look in their eyes, but do not take your eyes off them, for turning your back on a Librarian, or attacking them for that matter, is certain death.
WEAPONS-
Weapons! Or rather, whatever rag-tag firearms that can be procured in a post-apocolyptic environment. The upside to such a situation is that there is plenty of room to diversify, so feel free to come up with your own weapon design. Just know that there are no super-fancy high-tech firearms within the Metro.
AMMUNITION -
In the Metro, ammo is money. Literally! Vodka and pleasurable company can be bought if you have the right amount of bullets. This gives all the more reason to conserve your ammo.
MOSCOW - The surface -
The surface of Moscow is a scarred, irradiated wasteland populated by all manner of mutants. Frozen over after a nuclear winter and coated in radiation, gas-masks are a must out here.
CHARACTER SKELETON-
Name: (Russian names are preferred. Nicknames can be whatever.)
Age:
Gender:
Home station: (Feel free to choose! Or make up your own!)
Physical description: (Text. Image if you have one.)
Personality:
History:
Gear: (Weapons, clothing, armour, etc. Don't need to be too specific on this bit.)
- 20 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors
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After what seemed like ages, the tiny railcart finally came to a slow stop, its rusted wheels scraping against the tracks. Alla Adamov was among its occupants, along with three other men who looked as if the Metro had shaken all the life out of them. Needless to say, it hadn't been the most enjoyable trip Adamov had been on, and he was more than happy to see the backs of the three as they took off down the walkway. Picking up his bag, Adamov slung it over his shoulder before raising his head and having a look at his surroundings. Polis, the largest station in the Metro, or more accurately, collection of stations. It wasn't quite big enough for people to have a sense of personal space, but it was still something. Stepping out of the cart, he was immediately approached by one of the many sentries that defended Polis. In most cases, being approached by the local militia meant one was in a heap of trouble, but in this case, the man was an old friend of Adamov's. "So they're still letting your fascist ass in here, eh Alla?" He let out a quick laugh as he gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. "What brings you to Polis, my friend?" Adamov shrugged before replying "I heard over in Armoury about a man looking to pay some serious bullets for a job. Apparently I'm supposed to be able to find him here." His friend gave a quick grunt "I'll say you can. If we're talking about the same guy, that little shit has rented out the bar for the afternoon. It's a real pain in the ass."
Adamov smiled "He must have some big clankers to keep you away from the vodka. Oh well, might as well get going. I'll see you later." They shook hands "I hope so, my friend. Be careful out there!" With that Adamov turned and walked off in the direction of the bar.
As he made his way through the twists and turns of ramshackle huts that housed Polis' residents, he couldn't help but think of his home station. Naturally, Reich was far cleaner and more tidy than stations such as this, the society there focusing on discipline. Spending so many years traveling throughout the Metro, he had seen the deteriorating conditions of the various stations, and they were getting worse every day. The Reds were clueless on how to handle resources, and the independent stations only wasted them in vain attempts to defend themselves from the hordes of mutants that infested the tunnels. So far, the only people he had seen utilize the limited resources of the Metro properly were his own people, the Nazi's. That is why wave after wave of Reds is continuously gunned down on the frontlines. Nevertheless, total victory for the Fourth Reich is now impossible. Their numbers are too few, and growing fewer with each skirmish. He had held out for years, hoping that one day they would embark on one last crusade, to at least go out fighting. But the leadership seemed to prefer a slow death.
"Oh well."
It can be easy to get lost in a place like Polis, but Adamov had been through the station enough times to know how to get to the bar. It was a relatively large structure, it had to be, as it's where the majority of the populace and passing traders spend their time. In this case, however, Adamov picked up an unusual quietness as he approached the place. It looked as if the bar had indeed been cleared out, and whoever could do that would have to have some serious funds. As he approached the entrance, he found the way blocked by what looked like the most heavily-armed man he had ever seen within or without the Metro. Guns and knives were holstered just about wherever they could be, and all that could be seen through his helmet were his cold, staring eyes. Adamov walked up to him "I'm here for the job." The man lowered his gaze on him "The briefing doesn't start for half an hour. The boss wants to make sure we have everyone here who's participating. You'll have to wait." Adamov folded his arms "Right." Taking a peak over the mans shoulder, which was no easy task as he was even taller than himself, Adamov could see into the bar. The majority of the lighting was out, and sure enough, Adamov could see a man reclined in a chair sitting in one of the darkened corners. Turning around, he found a place to sit, or rather, he just sat himself on the ground, leaning against the wall opposite the bar. Setting his bag beside him, he tipped his head forward, his chin touching his chest as he dozed off.
Adamov smiled "He must have some big clankers to keep you away from the vodka. Oh well, might as well get going. I'll see you later." They shook hands "I hope so, my friend. Be careful out there!" With that Adamov turned and walked off in the direction of the bar.
As he made his way through the twists and turns of ramshackle huts that housed Polis' residents, he couldn't help but think of his home station. Naturally, Reich was far cleaner and more tidy than stations such as this, the society there focusing on discipline. Spending so many years traveling throughout the Metro, he had seen the deteriorating conditions of the various stations, and they were getting worse every day. The Reds were clueless on how to handle resources, and the independent stations only wasted them in vain attempts to defend themselves from the hordes of mutants that infested the tunnels. So far, the only people he had seen utilize the limited resources of the Metro properly were his own people, the Nazi's. That is why wave after wave of Reds is continuously gunned down on the frontlines. Nevertheless, total victory for the Fourth Reich is now impossible. Their numbers are too few, and growing fewer with each skirmish. He had held out for years, hoping that one day they would embark on one last crusade, to at least go out fighting. But the leadership seemed to prefer a slow death.
"Oh well."
It can be easy to get lost in a place like Polis, but Adamov had been through the station enough times to know how to get to the bar. It was a relatively large structure, it had to be, as it's where the majority of the populace and passing traders spend their time. In this case, however, Adamov picked up an unusual quietness as he approached the place. It looked as if the bar had indeed been cleared out, and whoever could do that would have to have some serious funds. As he approached the entrance, he found the way blocked by what looked like the most heavily-armed man he had ever seen within or without the Metro. Guns and knives were holstered just about wherever they could be, and all that could be seen through his helmet were his cold, staring eyes. Adamov walked up to him "I'm here for the job." The man lowered his gaze on him "The briefing doesn't start for half an hour. The boss wants to make sure we have everyone here who's participating. You'll have to wait." Adamov folded his arms "Right." Taking a peak over the mans shoulder, which was no easy task as he was even taller than himself, Adamov could see into the bar. The majority of the lighting was out, and sure enough, Adamov could see a man reclined in a chair sitting in one of the darkened corners. Turning around, he found a place to sit, or rather, he just sat himself on the ground, leaning against the wall opposite the bar. Setting his bag beside him, he tipped his head forward, his chin touching his chest as he dozed off.
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"Privet Leonidas! Kak dela?"
Leonidas paused in his step and swung around, grinning broadly under his beard. He took several long strides forward and grabbed the shorter, stockier man,pulling him into a bear-hug.
"Tolya!" He boomed, almost lifting the young man off of his feet in their embrace. "I'm fine my friend, how about you? It's been months since I was last here in Polis! Come, walk with me. Tell me, what's been going on with you? "
He let the man go and, red faced, Tolya fell into step with Leonidas. He began to talk of his work in Polis, his new home, wife and even an expected child. Leonidas said not a word as they walked, instead nodding or making approving noises. Reaching the end of the Borovitskaya station boundary the two men halted and again embraced.
"You must come and stay soon Leonidas. I know that Nastya would love to see you again. Say you will! We'll get the good vodka and celebrate."
Leonidas laughed, patting his friend affectionately on the back.
"I'd love too Tolya, but I may not be staying in Polis long. I've come here about a job. Apparently some big-shot has taken over one of the bars here and is calling a few mercenaries together. Supposed to be paying big money too. A lot of pristine-quality bullets, or so I hear. Well you know me. How can I resist such a job? But I'd better get going. I don't want to be late and miss my opportunity!" He laughed and embraced Tolya once more.
"Well come back soon, dedushka! We all miss you around here."
"I wasn't aware that I was a grandfather yet! Besides, I'm not that old. When I come back I'll be sure to visit. That's a promise! Take care now."
"You too, old man!"
They both laughed, and parted ways.
Leonidas made his way through Polis slowly, pausing at vendors' stalls and even stopping to haggle over a pale, emicated chicken with a women, simply for the hell of it. He didn't buy it, but did pick up a small, beaten and soot-covered kettle and a few two-litre bottles of purified water. He'd need his own cart if he kept going on like this. His pack was starting to get heavy. As he walked, he met several friends, exchanging pleasantries and small pieces of gossip and news, but refused to hang around for longer than a few minutes. He was nearing the bar now, and he wanted to make sure he got in on this job. If it was funded by such a high-ranking member of 'society' (such as it was) then maybe he'd find a little bit of respite from his persuers, perhaps some protection from this man's guards. If he had any, and that was likely. He gently laid a hand on the barrel of his STG-44 assult rifle, to reassure himself that it was still hanging over his shoulder. As all these thoughts whirled through his head he found himself infront of a man, massive in proportion, blocking the door to the bar. Leonidas looked up at the mountain of meat.
"Privet. I'm here for the job."
The man looked down at him, his face forming a sneer as he took in the laden rucksack of goods, and the kettle hanging from it all by a hook.
"Hi. What, you a trader or something? I doubt you'll be of any help." The massive guard drawled. "Go away and peddle your wares someplace else."
"I'm no trader my friend. I'm here for the job, and I'm not going anywhere." Leonidas spread his hands wide and smiled up at the man. "So, can I come in?"
"No."
"Oh... Why?"
"Same reason I gave the other guy. Because the boss wants to make sure we have everyone who's participating here before the briefing starts. If you're adamant about sticking around, then just wait around here for about twenty minutes. Then you can go in."
Leonidas grinned, thanked the guard and looked about the area. A large man (by no-means larger than the guard in the door-way, but still taller and broader than Leonidas) was dozing with his back to the wall, opposite the bar. Striding over, Leonidas seated himself against the same wall, several feet from the man. He set his pack down infront of him and rummaged around in it for a few moments. Smiling, he drew out some stiff pipe-cleaners and a little toothbrush. Setting these aside for a moment, he swung the STG-44 around from his shoulder, setting it down on-top of his rucksack. Picking up the pipe-cleaners and the troothbrush, he began to dis-assemble and clean the assult rifle. As he worked, he whistling merrily to himself, but also kept an eye about his surroundings. He was interested to see who else, if anyone, would show up.
Leonidas paused in his step and swung around, grinning broadly under his beard. He took several long strides forward and grabbed the shorter, stockier man,pulling him into a bear-hug.
"Tolya!" He boomed, almost lifting the young man off of his feet in their embrace. "I'm fine my friend, how about you? It's been months since I was last here in Polis! Come, walk with me. Tell me, what's been going on with you? "
He let the man go and, red faced, Tolya fell into step with Leonidas. He began to talk of his work in Polis, his new home, wife and even an expected child. Leonidas said not a word as they walked, instead nodding or making approving noises. Reaching the end of the Borovitskaya station boundary the two men halted and again embraced.
"You must come and stay soon Leonidas. I know that Nastya would love to see you again. Say you will! We'll get the good vodka and celebrate."
Leonidas laughed, patting his friend affectionately on the back.
"I'd love too Tolya, but I may not be staying in Polis long. I've come here about a job. Apparently some big-shot has taken over one of the bars here and is calling a few mercenaries together. Supposed to be paying big money too. A lot of pristine-quality bullets, or so I hear. Well you know me. How can I resist such a job? But I'd better get going. I don't want to be late and miss my opportunity!" He laughed and embraced Tolya once more.
"Well come back soon, dedushka! We all miss you around here."
"I wasn't aware that I was a grandfather yet! Besides, I'm not that old. When I come back I'll be sure to visit. That's a promise! Take care now."
"You too, old man!"
They both laughed, and parted ways.
Leonidas made his way through Polis slowly, pausing at vendors' stalls and even stopping to haggle over a pale, emicated chicken with a women, simply for the hell of it. He didn't buy it, but did pick up a small, beaten and soot-covered kettle and a few two-litre bottles of purified water. He'd need his own cart if he kept going on like this. His pack was starting to get heavy. As he walked, he met several friends, exchanging pleasantries and small pieces of gossip and news, but refused to hang around for longer than a few minutes. He was nearing the bar now, and he wanted to make sure he got in on this job. If it was funded by such a high-ranking member of 'society' (such as it was) then maybe he'd find a little bit of respite from his persuers, perhaps some protection from this man's guards. If he had any, and that was likely. He gently laid a hand on the barrel of his STG-44 assult rifle, to reassure himself that it was still hanging over his shoulder. As all these thoughts whirled through his head he found himself infront of a man, massive in proportion, blocking the door to the bar. Leonidas looked up at the mountain of meat.
"Privet. I'm here for the job."
The man looked down at him, his face forming a sneer as he took in the laden rucksack of goods, and the kettle hanging from it all by a hook.
"Hi. What, you a trader or something? I doubt you'll be of any help." The massive guard drawled. "Go away and peddle your wares someplace else."
"I'm no trader my friend. I'm here for the job, and I'm not going anywhere." Leonidas spread his hands wide and smiled up at the man. "So, can I come in?"
"No."
"Oh... Why?"
"Same reason I gave the other guy. Because the boss wants to make sure we have everyone who's participating here before the briefing starts. If you're adamant about sticking around, then just wait around here for about twenty minutes. Then you can go in."
Leonidas grinned, thanked the guard and looked about the area. A large man (by no-means larger than the guard in the door-way, but still taller and broader than Leonidas) was dozing with his back to the wall, opposite the bar. Striding over, Leonidas seated himself against the same wall, several feet from the man. He set his pack down infront of him and rummaged around in it for a few moments. Smiling, he drew out some stiff pipe-cleaners and a little toothbrush. Setting these aside for a moment, he swung the STG-44 around from his shoulder, setting it down on-top of his rucksack. Picking up the pipe-cleaners and the troothbrush, he began to dis-assemble and clean the assult rifle. As he worked, he whistling merrily to himself, but also kept an eye about his surroundings. He was interested to see who else, if anyone, would show up.
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Cheers went up as Natasha landed a blow on her opponent's jaw, then quickly drew back and kicked him square in the groin. He stumbled backwards with a groan of pain, lowering to his knees. Natasha got ready for another blow, but the man waved a hand - clearly signalling his defeat. Cheers erupted once again as bullets were traded between the crowd. "Bets again?" She murmured, but shrugged it off. People needed something to do down here, and watching a woman beat a man who'd been taking advantage of the local girls was something; especially when it involved gaining a few bullets. "Oh, shit!" Natasha said, running to grab her pack and rifle. Swinging the rifle across her chest she grabbed the pack and ran down the confusing streets of Polis.
She'd heard of a man willing to pay a large amount of bullets for some sort of mission involving C7; no way in hell was Natasha missing a gig like that. Dodging men, slipping by women and jumping over the small children that hung around the streets, she made her way towards the bar the man was to be holding a meeting at. Her long legs got her there in record time - in fact, she was a little early. At least that was her assumption when she noticed the two men, obviously waiting for something. One was older, perhaps in his forties, cleaning a rifle. The other man was younger than the other, but still older than Natasha. He was soundly asleep, or as soundly as one can get around here.
Natasha approached a mountain of a man that was clearly guarding the door. "I'm here for the job. Am I supposed to wait, or what?" The words were quick and to the point, her voice sounding almost bored. The man was huge, a major difference than the one she'd just beaten. His eyes (the only thing visible beneath all his weaponry and armor) swept over her, and Natasha could only guess that he was smiling. "Are you mute?" Natasha asked, placing a hand on her hip.
"Wait with the others. The boss isn't ready for you, yet." Natasha spun on her heels and approached the two men, sitting down a little a ways from the one cleaning his gun. Rustling through her pack, she took out a well used cloth and pressed it to her lip. She hadn't realized it was bleeding from the earlier fight until a moment before. It wasn't anything, though, Natasha had suffered far worse.
She'd heard of a man willing to pay a large amount of bullets for some sort of mission involving C7; no way in hell was Natasha missing a gig like that. Dodging men, slipping by women and jumping over the small children that hung around the streets, she made her way towards the bar the man was to be holding a meeting at. Her long legs got her there in record time - in fact, she was a little early. At least that was her assumption when she noticed the two men, obviously waiting for something. One was older, perhaps in his forties, cleaning a rifle. The other man was younger than the other, but still older than Natasha. He was soundly asleep, or as soundly as one can get around here.
Natasha approached a mountain of a man that was clearly guarding the door. "I'm here for the job. Am I supposed to wait, or what?" The words were quick and to the point, her voice sounding almost bored. The man was huge, a major difference than the one she'd just beaten. His eyes (the only thing visible beneath all his weaponry and armor) swept over her, and Natasha could only guess that he was smiling. "Are you mute?" Natasha asked, placing a hand on her hip.
"Wait with the others. The boss isn't ready for you, yet." Natasha spun on her heels and approached the two men, sitting down a little a ways from the one cleaning his gun. Rustling through her pack, she took out a well used cloth and pressed it to her lip. She hadn't realized it was bleeding from the earlier fight until a moment before. It wasn't anything, though, Natasha had suffered far worse.
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Katja eyed the device in her hands curiously. It was about the size of her palm, and looked lifeless save for a dull red light on one side which provided no noticeable illumination. She held it to her ear for the hundredth time, and found it emanating an ambient hum. A grimace formed on her face. The humming was so quiet, even in the most isolated of tunnels one would have to know it was there to notice it, but that did not assuage her fears. The rest of the team would doubtlessly include seasoned veterans, men whose senses are accustomed to picking up the slightest changes in the norm. If the tracking device was discovered, Katja would have a hell of a time explaining herself. The Communist troops were under orders to stay at least 6 hours behind her, and no more more than 12. When the signal was off for longer than 10 minutes, they had orders to move to the last known position. All Katja had to do was turn off the signal when the group reached their destination.
"Govno..."
She stood and shoved the device down to the bottom of the pack. She listened intensely, but heard nothing. Satisfied, she began to make her way to the bar. Polis reminded her of her home, Chernekov Station. It was big, dark, and crowded, and the people never looked like the sort you'd want to restart the human race with. She had to keep an eye on her pockets as she waded through the crowd, because pickpockets usually picked her as a target. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she wasn't a giant. Sure enough, a brave young urchin tried removing a refill tank that hung from Katja's side. Her hand smacked the child's so fast, not even a fly could have seen it coming. The girl looked at her hand, now mostly red, and scowled. Katja took off her helmet and offered a kind smile.
"S-sorry miss... I thought.." the girl's meek voice trickled out as she looked away from Katja's face.
"No. You didn't think. If you had thought, we wouldn't be here." She stood up and began walking away, her helmet under her arm. "No one ever thinks."
Contrasting herself, Katja thought quite a deal during the rest of her walk. She thought about her made up history in case anyone bothered to ask, which she thought was unlikely. A 'Stalker just back from the surface with communist ideals and a good shot' was all she'd come up with by the time she arrived at her destination. Across from the bar entrance, three figures were seated, each absorbed in their own affairs. All of them had the mercenary air about them, so Katja's tension eased a bit. Guarding the door was a mountain of a man, easily a foot and a half taller than her and wider than her by two. He was armed to the teeth, literally, and he stood so stoic, Katja could have mistaken him for a statue. She didn't bother speaking to the man, as he'd clearly already refused the others, at least for now. Instead, she nodded as she passed him, received his nod, and turned to get a closer look. The man closest to her looked in his forties. Katja would bed the entire job's pay that he'd either be the first to die, or the last, depending on how he spent his years. Next to him, was a young woman that looked to be about her own age. She looked able, but then again, so did everyone else. When she saw the woman from a distance, she was hoping that she wouldn't be the shortest anymore, but from the looks of this woman's legs, she still would be. Last was a large man who had apparently fallen asleep. If the others hadn't been around, he'd already be dead and Katja would be making off with his things. A pity.
She sighed and sat down between the sleeping man and the older one and rested her head against the wall behind her.
"Govno..."
She stood and shoved the device down to the bottom of the pack. She listened intensely, but heard nothing. Satisfied, she began to make her way to the bar. Polis reminded her of her home, Chernekov Station. It was big, dark, and crowded, and the people never looked like the sort you'd want to restart the human race with. She had to keep an eye on her pockets as she waded through the crowd, because pickpockets usually picked her as a target. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she wasn't a giant. Sure enough, a brave young urchin tried removing a refill tank that hung from Katja's side. Her hand smacked the child's so fast, not even a fly could have seen it coming. The girl looked at her hand, now mostly red, and scowled. Katja took off her helmet and offered a kind smile.
"S-sorry miss... I thought.." the girl's meek voice trickled out as she looked away from Katja's face.
"No. You didn't think. If you had thought, we wouldn't be here." She stood up and began walking away, her helmet under her arm. "No one ever thinks."
Contrasting herself, Katja thought quite a deal during the rest of her walk. She thought about her made up history in case anyone bothered to ask, which she thought was unlikely. A 'Stalker just back from the surface with communist ideals and a good shot' was all she'd come up with by the time she arrived at her destination. Across from the bar entrance, three figures were seated, each absorbed in their own affairs. All of them had the mercenary air about them, so Katja's tension eased a bit. Guarding the door was a mountain of a man, easily a foot and a half taller than her and wider than her by two. He was armed to the teeth, literally, and he stood so stoic, Katja could have mistaken him for a statue. She didn't bother speaking to the man, as he'd clearly already refused the others, at least for now. Instead, she nodded as she passed him, received his nod, and turned to get a closer look. The man closest to her looked in his forties. Katja would bed the entire job's pay that he'd either be the first to die, or the last, depending on how he spent his years. Next to him, was a young woman that looked to be about her own age. She looked able, but then again, so did everyone else. When she saw the woman from a distance, she was hoping that she wouldn't be the shortest anymore, but from the looks of this woman's legs, she still would be. Last was a large man who had apparently fallen asleep. If the others hadn't been around, he'd already be dead and Katja would be making off with his things. A pity.
She sighed and sat down between the sleeping man and the older one and rested her head against the wall behind her.
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'So that makes two more' thought Leonidas. And both of them women. He had finished his maintenance of the STG-44 and was re-assembling it with an expert and well-rehearsed ease. He had cleaned out the barrel and chamber with the pipe-cleaners, the firing mechanism and the bolt catch with the tooth-brush, and had even gone as far as removing each bullet from the magazine, polishing them to a sheen with a somewhat-clean hankerchief and then replacing them all. He clapped the magazine into place and drew back the bolt, completing his work. He then slowly and methodically packed up his cleaning utensils. The machine-gun, his prized posession and the oldest serviceable weapon in the metro (and possibly the world for all anyone knew) was back in it's place, slung over his shoulders. Throughout all of this Leonidas sang to himself. It was a jolly tune, uplifting in its own way, though the pomp of it (not to mention the lyrics) made it obvious that this was a propaganda song; though whether it had originated in the metro or not was unclear to all but the oldest who knew its words.
"Stand up, all victims of oppression. The tyrants fear your might. Don't cling so hard to your possessions, for you have nothing if you have no rights..."
So Leonidas continued, the song conjouring images of how all empires would be overthrown by the obvious greatness of the socialist movement. How the working man, united with his fellows would throw off the yoke of oppression and the capitalist, upper-class pigs.
"What a load of bollocks."
Leonidas laughed. A low, rumbling chuckle that seemed to come from the core of his very being. He glanced about himself, noting for the first time that both of the women were sitting on either side of him. The one between him and the large, sleeping man was small, with a very tomboyish sense about her. She was dressed in a manner that hardly surprised him. Practical but comfortable, with enough protection to give her a chance if something got too close for bullet-work down in the tunnels. He smiled a greeting, his face beneath the beard creasing pleasently, the skin around his eyes (real and fake) breaking into crow's feet and laughter-lines. He then turned his attention to the second woman, sitting several feet away. She was taller than the first, and seemed more muscular. She was long-legged, and not altogether un-attractive. He estimated her to be perhaps half his age, maybe thirty at a pinch. He smiled and nodded to her in turn, before again rummaging around in his rucksack. Shortly he drew out a bottle of vodka and a shot-glass. Pouring himself a drink, he set the bottle to one side and resigned himself to the wait.
"Stand up, all victims of oppression. The tyrants fear your might. Don't cling so hard to your possessions, for you have nothing if you have no rights..."
So Leonidas continued, the song conjouring images of how all empires would be overthrown by the obvious greatness of the socialist movement. How the working man, united with his fellows would throw off the yoke of oppression and the capitalist, upper-class pigs.
"What a load of bollocks."
Leonidas laughed. A low, rumbling chuckle that seemed to come from the core of his very being. He glanced about himself, noting for the first time that both of the women were sitting on either side of him. The one between him and the large, sleeping man was small, with a very tomboyish sense about her. She was dressed in a manner that hardly surprised him. Practical but comfortable, with enough protection to give her a chance if something got too close for bullet-work down in the tunnels. He smiled a greeting, his face beneath the beard creasing pleasently, the skin around his eyes (real and fake) breaking into crow's feet and laughter-lines. He then turned his attention to the second woman, sitting several feet away. She was taller than the first, and seemed more muscular. She was long-legged, and not altogether un-attractive. He estimated her to be perhaps half his age, maybe thirty at a pinch. He smiled and nodded to her in turn, before again rummaging around in his rucksack. Shortly he drew out a bottle of vodka and a shot-glass. Pouring himself a drink, he set the bottle to one side and resigned himself to the wait.
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Adamov jerked awake as he suddenly became aware that more people had shown up. It's not that he'd actually heard anyone, he just seemed to have a natural sense for what was going on around him. Raising his head, he found that he was no longer the only one who had chosen this place to kick back. At his immediate side sat a woman, a rather tomboyish-looking woman. Relatively small, she looked about his age or so. Perhaps it was the masculine air about her, but Adamov had a feeling she knew what she was doing. Next to her sat a man, older, who somehow managed to pull off both a humble and hardened appearance all at once. People with beards always seemed to do that. Farthest from him sat another woman who also looked his age. She was larger than the tomboy, and seemed equally as seasoned. In Reich, the relatively few number of women meant that they were constantly given all the protection the Nazi's had to offer, and as such never saw combat themselves. These women, however, looked as if they were far more than capable of holding their own. Getting to his feet, he stretched a bit before turning to them. "Good morning, comrades! You all here to make a bullet or two as well?"
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A dark mist fell about the figure where it walked slowly through the tunnel. Behind the figure two other figures walked and they were humans just as he was. The sound of dripping water filled the empty silence that had once existed here. A rat or two ran around, either playing with each other or hunting food. The two persons walking behind the one in the front were a couple who had sought the fastest way to Polis. Since they didn't have any bullets they couldn't take any of the rail carts and thus, here they were, being escorted through the dangerous Metro system by a man unknown to them. However, the fact that he were a Ranger from the looks of it made them them feel a bit more safe. The man in the front wore a reinforced Ranger armor, but he was in no means a Ranger himself. He was just a young man who sometimes wanted to do the right things for the right kind of bullets or deals. He didn't often do things just for the deed.
The figures name was Leonid Petrov, often called "Leo" by his respected friends and "Petrov" or "Ranger" by people who had yet to get to know him. Petrov didn't walk unarmed as he scouted ahead for anything hostile. No, he was carrying a Bolt-action rifle which he had leveled up to his chest. You never knew when one or more Nosalis would ambush you and when that moment came you better be ready to shot. In the end it all came down to how good your aim was and how good you could take the recoil from your weapon. The better you aimed, the more you killed. The better you endured the recoil, the longer you could keep on shooting in a long fire fight.
However, Petrov didn't only have a Bolt-action rifle at his disposal; On the right side of his waist hanged a crowbar and on the left side a revolver were attached. His prized knife were firmly stuck unto his chest where it could easily be accessed during a close-combat scenario. During his three years of traveling between stations, Petrov has easily learned to follow his own way of using his weapons and come up with new things all the time so his enemies could never adapt to him. If they even lived after facing him. After having walked a bit further they reached an opening in the tunnel and it ended in an another giant room. On the ground below there was a small iron bridge that seemed very worn-out and almost about to burst while above hanged a firm line that could easily be used to climb over the floor bottomless floor itself. There were literally no sight of rooms floor, there was only darkness below. Not even with his dark-vision goggles on his mask could Petrov see the floor itself. The had reached a pit. Petrov stopped for a moment and sighed heavily.
"Why do we stop?" The woman whispered just enough for both her husband and Petrov to hear her.
"There's no way over." The husband whispered back and sobbed for a moment. He was clearly the real "woman" between the couple, but that was none of Petrovs real concerns at the moment. He didn't just have to escort this couple to Polis, but he also had a time to catch in Polis when the meeting with the rich guy would happen. He had heard the news of it a couple of days ago and now he thought it was worth to check it out. However, first he had to get himself and these people over to the other side of the room without much trouble. Looking down, Petrov deemed that the bridge might hold him but not the other two and looking up he noticed that even though the line was firmly attached to both walls, it might not hold three people at the same time. And just as he was about to tell the couple of his plans he heard shuffling noises a couple of meters behind them. They couple didn't notice it, but Petrovs sharp ears did and as he swung around he saw a pack of Nosalis coming right at them!
"Grab the line above and move!" Petrov roared as he pushed himself past the couple. He went down on one knee and shot one bullet at the time as the Nosalis came closer and closer by the second. After each bullet one of them fell, but it was just as quickly replaced by another one. "How many of these sookas are there!?" Petrov thought as he continued firing. From behind he could hear how the couple struggled to get over and in front of him he heard the Nosalis as they came closer to him for each passing moment. Suddenly the man screamed and Petrov couldn't help but to look back at the line. The man had lost his grip and fallen into the abyss below while the woman kept on going, crying a bit to herself. And just as she reached the other side, Petrov stopped firing, tossed his weapon onto his back and tossed himself over to the line as several Nosalis launched right at him. The line snapped and he fell with it.
The Nosalis that had been hanging on his back when he had gripped the Line fell to the abyss while Petrov held onto the line for all that was dear in his life, even though it wasn't much. He tried not to look down as he began to crawl up the line and eventually he reached solid ground again. Looking back across the room, Petrov could see how the pack of Nosalis had all gathered at the ledge where he had made his jump onto the Line and looking down he didn't see any sign of the man who fell. The woman was really crying now and Petrov didn't have the rights word to comfort her. That was not one of specialties.
After some resting, Petrov decided it was time to move on. They were just a small walk away from the gates of Polis by now and he was sure that they would not encounter anymore of those monsters on the way there. The roads to Polis were growing safer these days for that, Petrov was grateful. It didn't take long for them to reach the Gates of Polis and seeing as Petrov was dressed in a Ranger outfit he and the woman was let it after a couple of shorts questions that he had come to expect from people around here. And just like that, they were in Polis! Petrov and the woman parted ways after wishing each other good luck. Since he had made the deal with her husband, he couldn't bring himself to put his burden onto her.
By the time Petrov found his way to the bar there had already gathered a couple of people there, but no one that gave interest to Petrov. He simple kneel down and waited for the heavily and huge man at the bar door would move aside so he and the rest could walk in and meet their mysterious employer.
The figures name was Leonid Petrov, often called "Leo" by his respected friends and "Petrov" or "Ranger" by people who had yet to get to know him. Petrov didn't walk unarmed as he scouted ahead for anything hostile. No, he was carrying a Bolt-action rifle which he had leveled up to his chest. You never knew when one or more Nosalis would ambush you and when that moment came you better be ready to shot. In the end it all came down to how good your aim was and how good you could take the recoil from your weapon. The better you aimed, the more you killed. The better you endured the recoil, the longer you could keep on shooting in a long fire fight.
However, Petrov didn't only have a Bolt-action rifle at his disposal; On the right side of his waist hanged a crowbar and on the left side a revolver were attached. His prized knife were firmly stuck unto his chest where it could easily be accessed during a close-combat scenario. During his three years of traveling between stations, Petrov has easily learned to follow his own way of using his weapons and come up with new things all the time so his enemies could never adapt to him. If they even lived after facing him. After having walked a bit further they reached an opening in the tunnel and it ended in an another giant room. On the ground below there was a small iron bridge that seemed very worn-out and almost about to burst while above hanged a firm line that could easily be used to climb over the floor bottomless floor itself. There were literally no sight of rooms floor, there was only darkness below. Not even with his dark-vision goggles on his mask could Petrov see the floor itself. The had reached a pit. Petrov stopped for a moment and sighed heavily.
"Why do we stop?" The woman whispered just enough for both her husband and Petrov to hear her.
"There's no way over." The husband whispered back and sobbed for a moment. He was clearly the real "woman" between the couple, but that was none of Petrovs real concerns at the moment. He didn't just have to escort this couple to Polis, but he also had a time to catch in Polis when the meeting with the rich guy would happen. He had heard the news of it a couple of days ago and now he thought it was worth to check it out. However, first he had to get himself and these people over to the other side of the room without much trouble. Looking down, Petrov deemed that the bridge might hold him but not the other two and looking up he noticed that even though the line was firmly attached to both walls, it might not hold three people at the same time. And just as he was about to tell the couple of his plans he heard shuffling noises a couple of meters behind them. They couple didn't notice it, but Petrovs sharp ears did and as he swung around he saw a pack of Nosalis coming right at them!
"Grab the line above and move!" Petrov roared as he pushed himself past the couple. He went down on one knee and shot one bullet at the time as the Nosalis came closer and closer by the second. After each bullet one of them fell, but it was just as quickly replaced by another one. "How many of these sookas are there!?" Petrov thought as he continued firing. From behind he could hear how the couple struggled to get over and in front of him he heard the Nosalis as they came closer to him for each passing moment. Suddenly the man screamed and Petrov couldn't help but to look back at the line. The man had lost his grip and fallen into the abyss below while the woman kept on going, crying a bit to herself. And just as she reached the other side, Petrov stopped firing, tossed his weapon onto his back and tossed himself over to the line as several Nosalis launched right at him. The line snapped and he fell with it.
The Nosalis that had been hanging on his back when he had gripped the Line fell to the abyss while Petrov held onto the line for all that was dear in his life, even though it wasn't much. He tried not to look down as he began to crawl up the line and eventually he reached solid ground again. Looking back across the room, Petrov could see how the pack of Nosalis had all gathered at the ledge where he had made his jump onto the Line and looking down he didn't see any sign of the man who fell. The woman was really crying now and Petrov didn't have the rights word to comfort her. That was not one of specialties.
After some resting, Petrov decided it was time to move on. They were just a small walk away from the gates of Polis by now and he was sure that they would not encounter anymore of those monsters on the way there. The roads to Polis were growing safer these days for that, Petrov was grateful. It didn't take long for them to reach the Gates of Polis and seeing as Petrov was dressed in a Ranger outfit he and the woman was let it after a couple of shorts questions that he had come to expect from people around here. And just like that, they were in Polis! Petrov and the woman parted ways after wishing each other good luck. Since he had made the deal with her husband, he couldn't bring himself to put his burden onto her.
By the time Petrov found his way to the bar there had already gathered a couple of people there, but no one that gave interest to Petrov. He simple kneel down and waited for the heavily and huge man at the bar door would move aside so he and the rest could walk in and meet their mysterious employer.
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Natasha nodded at the other man, using a few seconds to study him. He seemed experienced, used to rough life. More than was usual, that is. He might be a good ally, should it come down to that. Natasha crossed her legs, letting out a sigh. She tipped her head backwards and looked up at the empty blackness above.
"Good morning, comrades! You all here to make a bullet or two as well?" Natasha had been watching him get up out of her peripheral vision. He was strong - that much was evident.
"Who isn't looking to make a bullet or two?" Natasha retorted, leaning her head against the wall. Hopefully he wouldn't try to start a conversation. Natasha didn't like to talk, much. While wondering when they would be let inside, another man approached. He seemed close to Natasha's age, and well armed. By instinct Natasha laid a hand on the rifle that she'd lain beside her.
"Good morning, comrades! You all here to make a bullet or two as well?" Natasha had been watching him get up out of her peripheral vision. He was strong - that much was evident.
"Who isn't looking to make a bullet or two?" Natasha retorted, leaning her head against the wall. Hopefully he wouldn't try to start a conversation. Natasha didn't like to talk, much. While wondering when they would be let inside, another man approached. He seemed close to Natasha's age, and well armed. By instinct Natasha laid a hand on the rifle that she'd lain beside her.
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A shudder broke the otherwise cryptic silence in the tunnels. Boris was near the entrance of Polis and had been changing clothes in the tunnels; being half naked in such a cold and damp place was far from the best experience he had had so far, the cold winds showed not mercy to his body. Though it did make him speed up a bit. His disguise was made of mainly black clothes (more civilian appearing than the nazi uniform), making it easier to not being seen in the dark by the normal eye, though he still wore his fingerless gloves and grey scarf. He still wore his black spray painted helmet, not that it had anything to do with the Nazis, it was a homemade piece of protection. his pistol was secured at his belt along with the water container, handgun munition, and the standard issued knife. The throwing knives were at the calf of his leg, rarely used and when they were it was when he was in a crouching position.
Hiding his Nazi armband in a secret pocket in his bag he began to walk the remaining distance to Polis. Boris den Kaiser was a member of the Nazi army, convinced that it was the only political and military faction in the Metro that would ever stand a chance against the mutants and hunger that ravaged many stations. He was experienced as a scout and infiltrator…What the senior officers called for reconnaissance, whatever that really meant.
Continuing to walk through the tunnels, Boris could hear noises ahead. Not knowing whether it were bandits, rangers, or anything of the like, Boris drew out his VSV, turned off his lamp and moved through the darkness. He didn’t get far.
The VSV was wrestled from his grip and before Boris could even think of reacting he was tasting dirt and dust in his mouth as his legs were swayed away from him. “Who are you and what are you doing approaching Polis like that?” human voices said.
Coughing out the dirt in his mouth Boris answered, “My name is-”cough “Boris Helden. I’m coming from the Market Station. Heard of a good job here.”cough
The grip on his clothes lessened and the unseen men pulled him up in the darkness. “I’d advise you not to come to Polis with your weapon drawn. You’d be shot if it wasn’t us that were at duty.”
“I appreciate that,” Boris answered though there didn’t come a reply. Had they honestly just vanished like that? No trace, no sound? Boris felt it was no wonder that the Nazis hadn’t managed to take Polis…If these rangers were this capable of killing trained scouts, he wouldn’t dare to think what would happen if a whole army of these men were send out.
Continuing his walk and heeding the advice from the ghostly sentries, Boris continued his journey through the tunnel. The gate to Polis was damn well guarded, and once again Boris felt amazed by the sheer sight of security that the Station possessed. The process of entering Polis had been as his Captain had predicted, long, tedious and filled with paperwork; thankfully the Nazis had forged papers of Boris’ identity, birth date, etc. All to minimize the chance of being caught as a spy.
After what must have been an hour of procedures before Boris managed to get into the streets of Polis. It must have been the sentries in the tunnel that had informed them about him. Why else would they make him go through all sorts of checks and background information?
Anyways, he was in Polis and no suspicion had been raised. So far so good. Now to proceed with the mission; rumors had it that someone was looking for an area with something very valuable. Whatever it was the Nazis wanted it, and they had send Boris to find the place and report back; while they trusted that Boris would find it they did not have the same number of soldiers as the Communists, they did however have some of the best tanks and heavy weapons.
Boris’ first instinct was to go to the bar to find out about this job that had caught the ears of the Nazis. Boris kept to himself until he entered the bar, he wasn’t the most sociable when it came to larger masses, he always preferred to focus on smaller groups as it was more manageable.
“You all here to make a bullet or two as well?” Boris heard a man say outside the bar. The voice woke Boris up from the self-centered dreamworld he had been in. Stopping, he looked at the three people, two men and a woman. ‘Odd…Rarely see women fighting,’ Boris thought to himself as he looked between the entrance of the bar and the group standing outside.
Deciding that it would be better to gain information through socialization, Boris approached the most talkative person in the group. The very man that had started talking in the first place. “Greetings comrades. I see I’m not the only one looking for some good bullets.” He gave each member of the group an acknowledging nod as he gave them yet another seizing look.
“Say why are we standing outside the bar? Or is this the place to sign up for jobs” Boris asked though he quickly added, “New to Polis, you see. I'm used to different methods.”
In case anyone would ask where he was originally from, Boris would simply claim to be from the market station or an unknown station at the outskirts.
Boris couldn’t help himself from giving the woman a look. Her hand was on her rifle, though whether it was instinct, or a threat to everyone, Boris didn’t know for sure; better keep an eye out on her.
Hiding his Nazi armband in a secret pocket in his bag he began to walk the remaining distance to Polis. Boris den Kaiser was a member of the Nazi army, convinced that it was the only political and military faction in the Metro that would ever stand a chance against the mutants and hunger that ravaged many stations. He was experienced as a scout and infiltrator…What the senior officers called for reconnaissance, whatever that really meant.
Continuing to walk through the tunnels, Boris could hear noises ahead. Not knowing whether it were bandits, rangers, or anything of the like, Boris drew out his VSV, turned off his lamp and moved through the darkness. He didn’t get far.
The VSV was wrestled from his grip and before Boris could even think of reacting he was tasting dirt and dust in his mouth as his legs were swayed away from him. “Who are you and what are you doing approaching Polis like that?” human voices said.
Coughing out the dirt in his mouth Boris answered, “My name is-”cough “Boris Helden. I’m coming from the Market Station. Heard of a good job here.”cough
The grip on his clothes lessened and the unseen men pulled him up in the darkness. “I’d advise you not to come to Polis with your weapon drawn. You’d be shot if it wasn’t us that were at duty.”
“I appreciate that,” Boris answered though there didn’t come a reply. Had they honestly just vanished like that? No trace, no sound? Boris felt it was no wonder that the Nazis hadn’t managed to take Polis…If these rangers were this capable of killing trained scouts, he wouldn’t dare to think what would happen if a whole army of these men were send out.
Continuing his walk and heeding the advice from the ghostly sentries, Boris continued his journey through the tunnel. The gate to Polis was damn well guarded, and once again Boris felt amazed by the sheer sight of security that the Station possessed. The process of entering Polis had been as his Captain had predicted, long, tedious and filled with paperwork; thankfully the Nazis had forged papers of Boris’ identity, birth date, etc. All to minimize the chance of being caught as a spy.
After what must have been an hour of procedures before Boris managed to get into the streets of Polis. It must have been the sentries in the tunnel that had informed them about him. Why else would they make him go through all sorts of checks and background information?
Anyways, he was in Polis and no suspicion had been raised. So far so good. Now to proceed with the mission; rumors had it that someone was looking for an area with something very valuable. Whatever it was the Nazis wanted it, and they had send Boris to find the place and report back; while they trusted that Boris would find it they did not have the same number of soldiers as the Communists, they did however have some of the best tanks and heavy weapons.
Boris’ first instinct was to go to the bar to find out about this job that had caught the ears of the Nazis. Boris kept to himself until he entered the bar, he wasn’t the most sociable when it came to larger masses, he always preferred to focus on smaller groups as it was more manageable.
“You all here to make a bullet or two as well?” Boris heard a man say outside the bar. The voice woke Boris up from the self-centered dreamworld he had been in. Stopping, he looked at the three people, two men and a woman. ‘Odd…Rarely see women fighting,’ Boris thought to himself as he looked between the entrance of the bar and the group standing outside.
Deciding that it would be better to gain information through socialization, Boris approached the most talkative person in the group. The very man that had started talking in the first place. “Greetings comrades. I see I’m not the only one looking for some good bullets.” He gave each member of the group an acknowledging nod as he gave them yet another seizing look.
“Say why are we standing outside the bar? Or is this the place to sign up for jobs” Boris asked though he quickly added, “New to Polis, you see. I'm used to different methods.”
In case anyone would ask where he was originally from, Boris would simply claim to be from the market station or an unknown station at the outskirts.
Boris couldn’t help himself from giving the woman a look. Her hand was on her rifle, though whether it was instinct, or a threat to everyone, Boris didn’t know for sure; better keep an eye out on her.
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"Good morning comrades! You all here to make a bullet or two as well?"
Leonidas looked up from his vodka. The big man was awake.
"I'd say so. Could do with a few more cartridges, eh?" He patted the STG-44 with his left hand, as though that was answer enough.
"Finally awake I see hm? Where are you from tovarich? I'm always up for a bit of news from the outlying stations."
The questions was genuine. Leonidas looked about the small group as he spoke.
"As a matter of fact, I'll direct the same question to the rest of you. If we're working together, we might as well get to know one-another eh? I'm known as Leonidas, but you can call me Lenechka or Lenya if you'd prefer."
He raised the shot of vodka to the group, and downed it. "Slancha!"
He poured himself another, and looked around at them all expectantly. Whilst waiting for their answers his customary smile never left his face, though his hand remained on his machine-gun. When meeting new faces it was always good to keep up your guard. "I'm not from any station particularly, but I've a few things to share, if anyone'd care to trade information. As a matter of fact, I heard about an incident up at Polezhaevskaya. Some pretty grizzly stories from up thataways. Something about the entire station suddenly going dark. Everyone gone. No trace of what happened to them!"
He shuddered for effect and then downed the second shot, the friendly, warm smile again spreading across his features.
"But anyway, enough of my ghost-stories. Tell me about yourselves!"
With this said, he proffered the bottle of vodka to anyone interested as he waited for their replies.
Leonidas looked up from his vodka. The big man was awake.
"I'd say so. Could do with a few more cartridges, eh?" He patted the STG-44 with his left hand, as though that was answer enough.
"Finally awake I see hm? Where are you from tovarich? I'm always up for a bit of news from the outlying stations."
The questions was genuine. Leonidas looked about the small group as he spoke.
"As a matter of fact, I'll direct the same question to the rest of you. If we're working together, we might as well get to know one-another eh? I'm known as Leonidas, but you can call me Lenechka or Lenya if you'd prefer."
He raised the shot of vodka to the group, and downed it. "Slancha!"
He poured himself another, and looked around at them all expectantly. Whilst waiting for their answers his customary smile never left his face, though his hand remained on his machine-gun. When meeting new faces it was always good to keep up your guard. "I'm not from any station particularly, but I've a few things to share, if anyone'd care to trade information. As a matter of fact, I heard about an incident up at Polezhaevskaya. Some pretty grizzly stories from up thataways. Something about the entire station suddenly going dark. Everyone gone. No trace of what happened to them!"
He shuddered for effect and then downed the second shot, the friendly, warm smile again spreading across his features.
"But anyway, enough of my ghost-stories. Tell me about yourselves!"
With this said, he proffered the bottle of vodka to anyone interested as he waited for their replies.
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As Adamov was about to introduce himself, there came a low voice from within the bar. Too quiet for Adamov to make out the words, the armed man at the door must have heard, as he gave a nod over his shoulder before turning to the group "You're free to go inside." he said, before taking one huge step to the side, leaving the entranceway open. Adamov looked to the others "Looks like we can introduce ourselves later, time to get rolling!" And without further delay he stepped forward into the bar. As he had noticed before the lights had been dimmed down considerably. A few of the square tables had been rearranged into one long table as if for a formal meeting. At the end of the table, his face partially concealed in darkness, sat an enormous man. With a wide chest, broad shoulders and long, muscular arms, he looked as if he spent most of his free time wrestling with Librarians. With skin as pale as any Metro dweller, he had dark hair that looked neatly combed. Clearly this was one of the few inhabitants of Moscow who still bothered with grooming. His clothing was the most striking thing about him, as the clothes looked relatively tidy with an emphasis on comfort, in fact, Adamov would wager that some of the clothes hadn't been touched since the hellfire.
As Adamov entered the bar, the mysterious man spoke: "Looks like more showed up than I expected. Sit." He had a very deep, relaxed voice. As Adamov took a seat at one of the many chairs around the table, the man pulled out a cigar, an item which in this day and age must have cost a small fortune. Bringing it up to his face, he flicked a lighter and for a moment Adamov could clearly see his face. He had deep, drooping eyes with a rather large mouth, his forehead had several wrinkles that looked as if they had formed as a side-effect of having to deal with irritating people rather than age. If Adamov had to put an age on him, he'd guess somewhere around fifty or so.
After lighting the cigar, he inhaled deeply, his already massive chest seeming to double in size, before exhaling a puff of smoke that nearly filled the entire bar. "I'd like to get this over with quickly."
As Adamov entered the bar, the mysterious man spoke: "Looks like more showed up than I expected. Sit." He had a very deep, relaxed voice. As Adamov took a seat at one of the many chairs around the table, the man pulled out a cigar, an item which in this day and age must have cost a small fortune. Bringing it up to his face, he flicked a lighter and for a moment Adamov could clearly see his face. He had deep, drooping eyes with a rather large mouth, his forehead had several wrinkles that looked as if they had formed as a side-effect of having to deal with irritating people rather than age. If Adamov had to put an age on him, he'd guess somewhere around fifty or so.
After lighting the cigar, he inhaled deeply, his already massive chest seeming to double in size, before exhaling a puff of smoke that nearly filled the entire bar. "I'd like to get this over with quickly."
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Katja analyzed the newcomers quickly but not obviously. They both looked like the rest of the people gathered here: hard-assed, armed to the teeth, and likely drunk. She didn't pay much attention to the conversation, because most of it was uninteresting and only there to diffuse the awkwardness. Katja had no problem being awkward. She piqued up when the older man who introduced himself as Leonidas offered up his drink, after taking two shots himself. What was it? Noon? Seems a bit early to be drinking.. Katja was about to say something, but was interrupted by the guard, saying the could go inside. The man stepped to the side, and it was as if Polyphemus had moved his boulder from the entrance, although the guard was more akin to Polyphemus than the boulder. Katja stood and followed one of the men in. As she entered, she turned to the older man and offered her hand in greeting.
"Well, Leonidas, you seem like the kinda guy a girl'd want protecting her out in those tunnels. Looks like Miss Metro over there won't have to stay behind, eh?" she chuckled a bit, before continuing; "I'm Katja..or Kat. Don't really care which."
They were in the bar now, and Katja took a seat at the table directly opposite the man who was to be their employer. It was a bold move, but Katja was a bold person. Something had to make up for her size.
The man across from her had a cigar, something Katja had seen men kill for in the tunnels. After exhaling, he spoke up again.
"I'd like to get this over with quickly."
Oh, it will be over quickly.
"Well, Leonidas, you seem like the kinda guy a girl'd want protecting her out in those tunnels. Looks like Miss Metro over there won't have to stay behind, eh?" she chuckled a bit, before continuing; "I'm Katja..or Kat. Don't really care which."
They were in the bar now, and Katja took a seat at the table directly opposite the man who was to be their employer. It was a bold move, but Katja was a bold person. Something had to make up for her size.
The man across from her had a cigar, something Katja had seen men kill for in the tunnels. After exhaling, he spoke up again.
"I'd like to get this over with quickly."
Oh, it will be over quickly.
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The mountain moved, the way into the bar was clear. Leonidas pushed himself to his feet, screwing the cap back onto the vodka bottle.
"Guess introductions'll wait eh?"
He followed the rest in, leaning in towards the guard and thanking him, before slipping him a few bullets as he passed. The guard took them, a brief look of surprise passing over his features like a wave, only to be replaced by stony impassiveness almost instantly. Leonidas knew that he'd made a friend out of that. Not a good one, but the guard would likely have his back in the future.
"Well, Leonidas, you seem like the kinda guy a girl'd want protecting her out in those tunnels. Looks like Miss Metro over there won't have to stay behind, eh?" she chuckled a bit, before continuing; "I'm Katja..or Kat. Don't really care which."
Leonidas looked down at the young woman, and then took her hand, her grip almost as firm as his. He inclined his head politely. "Well Katja, if you needed protection you wouldn't be here. But I thank you for the sentiment at any rate."
He laughed, patting her softly on the shoulder. He liked this kid. She had a sense of humor. That would be important in the tunnels. Seating himself next to her at the edge of the table opposite the vast man with the cigar, Leonidas poured himself another shot of vodka, then poured a second into the bottle's cap, sliding that to Katja. He'd noticed her perk up when he'd offered a drink outside, and he reckoned that it would be good to begin the process of making friends with the people he'd be working with. As the 'shot' found its way infront of the woman, the man at the head of the table began to speak.
"I'd like to get this over with quickly."
Leonidas sat back in his chair and turned his eyes to the speaker, watching him intently.
"This should be interesting" he muttered to Katja.
"Guess introductions'll wait eh?"
He followed the rest in, leaning in towards the guard and thanking him, before slipping him a few bullets as he passed. The guard took them, a brief look of surprise passing over his features like a wave, only to be replaced by stony impassiveness almost instantly. Leonidas knew that he'd made a friend out of that. Not a good one, but the guard would likely have his back in the future.
"Well, Leonidas, you seem like the kinda guy a girl'd want protecting her out in those tunnels. Looks like Miss Metro over there won't have to stay behind, eh?" she chuckled a bit, before continuing; "I'm Katja..or Kat. Don't really care which."
Leonidas looked down at the young woman, and then took her hand, her grip almost as firm as his. He inclined his head politely. "Well Katja, if you needed protection you wouldn't be here. But I thank you for the sentiment at any rate."
He laughed, patting her softly on the shoulder. He liked this kid. She had a sense of humor. That would be important in the tunnels. Seating himself next to her at the edge of the table opposite the vast man with the cigar, Leonidas poured himself another shot of vodka, then poured a second into the bottle's cap, sliding that to Katja. He'd noticed her perk up when he'd offered a drink outside, and he reckoned that it would be good to begin the process of making friends with the people he'd be working with. As the 'shot' found its way infront of the woman, the man at the head of the table began to speak.
"I'd like to get this over with quickly."
Leonidas sat back in his chair and turned his eyes to the speaker, watching him intently.
"This should be interesting" he muttered to Katja.
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Natasha didn't say anything to them; she liked it better when people didn't know who she was. Sooner or later, if she were to be spending a lot of time with these people, she'd have to introduce herself...but Natasha wasn't much of a people person. In her opinion, it's a lot easier to get around by yourself. In truth, she used to be much friendlier. But so many of the people she met ended up dead. Why bother?
Just as she was about to rummage through her pack for something to eat, the guard stepped aside. Natasha jumped to her feet, swiftly swinging the rifle over her chest. Nodding at the guard as she passed him, she stepped inside the bar. A large, muscular man, that seemed to be in his late forties, early fifties maybe, was sitting down near the front of the room. His eyes passed over everyone as they entered; assessing them, most likely. Natasha made a mental note not to get on his bad side. He was smoking a cigar, probably to show off his wealth. First impressions, right?
Taking a seat with her back to a corner, Natasha pulled her hair down and ran a hand through the chocolate brown locks. When was the last time she slept? She rubbed her hands over her face, then focused on the man. "I'd like to get this over with quickly." Natasha smiled; this would be good.
Just as she was about to rummage through her pack for something to eat, the guard stepped aside. Natasha jumped to her feet, swiftly swinging the rifle over her chest. Nodding at the guard as she passed him, she stepped inside the bar. A large, muscular man, that seemed to be in his late forties, early fifties maybe, was sitting down near the front of the room. His eyes passed over everyone as they entered; assessing them, most likely. Natasha made a mental note not to get on his bad side. He was smoking a cigar, probably to show off his wealth. First impressions, right?
Taking a seat with her back to a corner, Natasha pulled her hair down and ran a hand through the chocolate brown locks. When was the last time she slept? She rubbed her hands over her face, then focused on the man. "I'd like to get this over with quickly." Natasha smiled; this would be good.
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After everyone had seated, their apparent employer spoke again. Adamov noted that while he claimed to want this over and done with, he seemed to be taking his time, taking a slow drag on his cigar between sentences. "Before we begin," he said "I might as well tell you that the task you are about to undertake will indirectly result in casualties somewhere along the line. I'm assuming everyone here has killed once or twice in the past, however, if there are any closet pacifists in the room, you know where the exit is." After a quick scan of the room, it was apparent that everyone that was here knew what they were doing. "Good." He took another long drag on his cigar and exhaled, Adamov couldn't help but wonder how many times he could before they were smoked out of the bar. "There is a station far off from here by the formal name of C7. Its last use was as a storehouse for the government before the fallout. It has been cleared out for the most part, but within it there still lies a weapon from before the bombs fell. This is where you all come in." He leaned back in his chair a bit more: "I need you to go to C7, and secure this weapon. Naturally, you have no obligation to work as a team, though the tunnels leading to C7 are some of the most mutant-infested within this Metro." Taking yet another drag from his cigar, he leaned back in, his sunken eyes looking around at the group. "If there are any questions, make them quick."
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As the massive guard moved aside, Petrov rose from his position and walked with the others into the bar. The lights were pretty dim and the man at the end of the tables were barely visible, but what one could see of him was his large figure, his weird cloths and that glowing cigar in his mouth. Any conversation the others might have had were ignored by Petrov as he put on his Ranger mask once they entered the bar. He didn't like to leave his face exposed and the filter was removed to save it for the surface. He could still breath perfectly fine through the mask. Once they were all inside, Petrov seated himself a bit away from the man with the cigar and two seats away from the girl who had just recently spoken with the elderly man.
There he sat in the short debriefing where the man with the cigar described and explained where they were heading, what they would secure for him and what kind of obligations they had within the group itself. The part that the tunnels leading to this supposed place was one of the most mutant-filled places in the Metro did indeed disturb Petrov a bit, but he shrugged it off as the man with the cigar asked if anyone had any questions to ask.
"I have three." Petrov rose from his seat as he spoke with his cold and rusty voice, "Will this route take us through the surface? How much do we get paid and what will you do with the weapon once you have it?" The Ranger remained standing as he gazed over at the man with the cigar, ignoring any looks directed at him from the others. His deal was with the rich guy, no one else. There was also a reason to why he asked what the guy would do with the weapon, because since it would take so many people to secure it there had be something bigger to the whole picture.
There he sat in the short debriefing where the man with the cigar described and explained where they were heading, what they would secure for him and what kind of obligations they had within the group itself. The part that the tunnels leading to this supposed place was one of the most mutant-filled places in the Metro did indeed disturb Petrov a bit, but he shrugged it off as the man with the cigar asked if anyone had any questions to ask.
"I have three." Petrov rose from his seat as he spoke with his cold and rusty voice, "Will this route take us through the surface? How much do we get paid and what will you do with the weapon once you have it?" The Ranger remained standing as he gazed over at the man with the cigar, ignoring any looks directed at him from the others. His deal was with the rich guy, no one else. There was also a reason to why he asked what the guy would do with the weapon, because since it would take so many people to secure it there had be something bigger to the whole picture.
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"If there are any questions, make them quick."
Leonidas stroked his beard, then downed his shot of vodka and leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers together as the ranger spoke. He waited patiently until all three questions had been asked, then stated:
"I'll second our 'masked friend' here on the first two of those three questions, we going up-top, and what're we likely to get in recompense for our services? But I've also got a question of my own. I don't care what you do with this weapon when you have it, it's not exactly our place to ask anyway" he shot a look at the Ranger as he said this "but I think I speak, on all of our behalf, when I ask you what this thing looks like exactly? If I'm going to be busting my arse for you and your bullets, I for one want to at least know what it is I'm securing. Now I don't care what it is, or what it does, but a description would be nice. No disrespect, of course."
Leonidas chuckled in a good-natured way as he finished talking, spread his hands out in a guesture of goodwill and then one again leant back in his chair and poured himself another shot as he awaited the big-man's reply.
Leonidas stroked his beard, then downed his shot of vodka and leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers together as the ranger spoke. He waited patiently until all three questions had been asked, then stated:
"I'll second our 'masked friend' here on the first two of those three questions, we going up-top, and what're we likely to get in recompense for our services? But I've also got a question of my own. I don't care what you do with this weapon when you have it, it's not exactly our place to ask anyway" he shot a look at the Ranger as he said this "but I think I speak, on all of our behalf, when I ask you what this thing looks like exactly? If I'm going to be busting my arse for you and your bullets, I for one want to at least know what it is I'm securing. Now I don't care what it is, or what it does, but a description would be nice. No disrespect, of course."
Leonidas chuckled in a good-natured way as he finished talking, spread his hands out in a guesture of goodwill and then one again leant back in his chair and poured himself another shot as he awaited the big-man's reply.
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Natasha eyed the Ranger as he walked in. She never got along too well with Rangers; they were shoot first and ask questions later kind of people. And most of the ones she'd run into were as arrogant as it got. Natasha grimaced at the memory when she got into a fight with one...only for him to have several other Rangers rush to his aid. Needless to say, she lost.
Her attention snapped back to the still unnamed man. Natasha listened intently as he explained the mission, and as the two men stood and asked their questions. She nodded in agreement; how much she was going to be paid was definitely something she wanted to know...as well as what exactly they were looking for. Otherwise, it seemed simple enough. Get in, retrieve the weapon, get out, and don't die.
Her attention snapped back to the still unnamed man. Natasha listened intently as he explained the mission, and as the two men stood and asked their questions. She nodded in agreement; how much she was going to be paid was definitely something she wanted to know...as well as what exactly they were looking for. Otherwise, it seemed simple enough. Get in, retrieve the weapon, get out, and don't die.
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The man once more leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes lazily as he replied: "Whether or not the trip takes you to the surface depends entirely on your own actions. You could arrive their solely by sub-level routes, but in some cases it may be more advisable to take the surface. Your payment..." He took in one last drag of his cigar before putting it out. There was still a good half of it remaining, and could still fetch a good price, but he simply threw it to the floor. "Will be sufficient. If that is not enough for you then feel free to leave. As for what the weapon is and what I intend to do with it, in order to prevent the information falling into the wrong hands, you will not be told what it is. Just know that you will know it when you see it, as it is the only remaining item within C7."
Adamov raised his hand like a preschool student before asking a question himself "Is it a weapon?"
The man ignored him as he continued: "The reason as to why I need this weapon is simple. I am currently in need of a vast amount of resources, resources I can only acquire with the weapon in question."
To Adamov's surprise, he pulled out yet another cigar "Transportation will be provided to Armoury station should you choose to take it. From there on, how you get to C7 is up to you." Reaching in his breast pocket, he pulled out several maps, throwing them onto the table in front of him "Here are directions on how to get there. Once again, I do not demand that you travel together, though once again, it is advisable. Lastly," he lit his second cigar before continuing, "when you arrive in Armoury, show the map to a man with a red glove. He will give you an item necessary for completion of the job." Taking a deep drag from his cigar, he once again turned his eyes to the group "If that is all, feel free to leave. Your rail cart will be waiting at the tunnel leading to Armoury."
Adamov raised his hand like a preschool student before asking a question himself "Is it a weapon?"
The man ignored him as he continued: "The reason as to why I need this weapon is simple. I am currently in need of a vast amount of resources, resources I can only acquire with the weapon in question."
To Adamov's surprise, he pulled out yet another cigar "Transportation will be provided to Armoury station should you choose to take it. From there on, how you get to C7 is up to you." Reaching in his breast pocket, he pulled out several maps, throwing them onto the table in front of him "Here are directions on how to get there. Once again, I do not demand that you travel together, though once again, it is advisable. Lastly," he lit his second cigar before continuing, "when you arrive in Armoury, show the map to a man with a red glove. He will give you an item necessary for completion of the job." Taking a deep drag from his cigar, he once again turned his eyes to the group "If that is all, feel free to leave. Your rail cart will be waiting at the tunnel leading to Armoury."
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"A vast amount of resources, huh? That could be anything from food, cloths, ammo or more weapons. This man doesn't seem like the needing nor the noble kind of man and he sure as hell ain't poor, so in the end everything comes down to getting more weapons. What do you do with a vast amount of weapons? Conquer? Bring order and peace? Wipe out all the mutants within the Metro? Take control of all the stations? I'm not usually the man who asks questions, but this seems a bit too shady for me. However, the payment is too much to pass up on. Tricky situation for sure. Guess I just have to be careful and make sure this weapon doesn't fall in the wrong hands.", Petrov thought as he pulled one of the many maps from the table and proceeded towards the exit, glancing slightly towards the old man with the eye patch.
As he got out from the bar, Petrov kept his mask on as he turned left and walked up the street. He knew this station almost like his own hand and thus, he had no problems navigating through it. Whatever or not any of the guys or gals from the bar were following him towards the exit where the rail cart supposedly were waiting for them, Petrov didn't make any attempt to look back to see if any of them were doing so. The station was large to say the least and many people lived in this Ranger protected Station. Not many stations were protected by Rangers these days. However, that was none of Petrov's problems and it wouldn't ever be any of his problems either.
After arriving to the exit, Petrov nodded at the railroad guards as he leaned towards the dirty wall and waited for the others to arrive as well. This would be one hell of a journey and he wouldn't get far on it alone. However, that didn't mean he'd have to make friends, just... "allies".
As he got out from the bar, Petrov kept his mask on as he turned left and walked up the street. He knew this station almost like his own hand and thus, he had no problems navigating through it. Whatever or not any of the guys or gals from the bar were following him towards the exit where the rail cart supposedly were waiting for them, Petrov didn't make any attempt to look back to see if any of them were doing so. The station was large to say the least and many people lived in this Ranger protected Station. Not many stations were protected by Rangers these days. However, that was none of Petrov's problems and it wouldn't ever be any of his problems either.
After arriving to the exit, Petrov nodded at the railroad guards as he leaned towards the dirty wall and waited for the others to arrive as well. This would be one hell of a journey and he wouldn't get far on it alone. However, that didn't mean he'd have to make friends, just... "allies".
- 20 posts here • Page 1 of 1
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View All » Add Character » 7 Characters to follow in this universe
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Leonid Alexandrov
Yeah, I know a joke, but it's an oldie... "There once was a man from Nantucket..."
Leonid Petrov
"There's nothing left."
Boris den Kaiser
A Nazi scout and infiltrator agent.
Trending
Leonid Petrov
"There's nothing left."
Leonid Alexandrov
Yeah, I know a joke, but it's an oldie... "There once was a man from Nantucket..."
Boris den Kaiser
A Nazi scout and infiltrator agent.
Most Followed
Boris den Kaiser
A Nazi scout and infiltrator agent.
Leonid Alexandrov
Yeah, I know a joke, but it's an oldie... "There once was a man from Nantucket..."
Leonid Petrov
"There's nothing left."
Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Metro: C7: Out of Character
Discussions
Most recent OOC posts in Metro: C7
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
I hate it when they cancel shows. Especially Lie to Me. That was my favorite.
Anyways... I would post, but my post is the second to last. Like Irish, I don't wanna clog it up with all mine.
Anyways... I would post, but my post is the second to last. Like Irish, I don't wanna clog it up with all mine.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
I'm not posting for a while because I've already had my hand in about five of the current posts. I'd like to give other folks a chance for a little. No offence meant by my question you understand. I'm just not big on watching an RP wither up and die after a week's run. It'd be like Fox Network cancelling a good TV show after 1 series.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Why then, Irish, should you not post? O.o
I'm writing something right now, just wondering why you think you have a reason not to post something since the man answered the questions asked? :P
I'm writing something right now, just wondering why you think you have a reason not to post something since the man answered the questions asked? :P
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
So why not post just then when you had the connection? Seriously guys, someone post that isn't me or Arctic.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Hey, I'm having a lot of internet problems, and I can't really predict when it will be stable. I'm really sorry! Just go on without me, I'll find a way to improvise myself back, and if the story went too far ahead, I'll just leave. No need to hol it all back because of me.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Hey I'm going to be out for about a day, going to the Uproar Festival...but I'll be sure to catch up when I get back. Just postin' to letchya guys know.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Alright, the bar scene has begun. We can save the introductions for when we're out and about.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Anyone keen on orchestrating some sub-plots? Such as rivalries, allies, romantic interests...etc?
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Saxious wrote:Argh...Damn it. Misunderstood, oh well, thankfully there's the edit option.
:EDIT:
Fixed it.
But it still says your character was in the bar. No-one's allowed in yet. :|
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Argh...Damn it. Misunderstood, oh well, thankfully there's the edit option.
:EDIT:
Fixed it.
:EDIT:
Fixed it.
Re: [OOC] Metro: C7
Reianna wrote:I guess we're gonna wait for the last character to post then go inside?
We've already got four of the six outside, it's a good chance for people to introduce themselves before things kick off. Once the other two show up, we'll head in, but if they're not here by tomorrow at noon or so (rl) we'll go in anyway.