Vladimir "Volodya" Grachyov

Rangers of the Order

Posts
60
Last visited
September 15, 2020
Player
AnOriginalAccountNam

About Vladimir "Volodya" Grachyov

Corporal

Custom Fields

Playby
Sergey Puskepalis
Age
29
Occupation/Rank
Spartan Ranger Scout.

Character Information

Born in 2010, Vladimir and his family, like thousands upon thousands of others, would rush into the Moscow metro for shelter on July 6th, 2013. Fortunately for Vladimir the station he found himself in with his parents was one of the four stations that would later make up Polis.

By 2028, Vladimir was required to choose from one of the four castes that make up the citizens of Polis, but instead of choosing either to join the Kshatriya as some would have assumed for a man who expressed interest in a military career, Vladimir would ask to join the The Order of Sparta then still lead by the now infamous Colonel Miller.

The training was brutal and there were times when Vladimir considered giving up and returning to Polis in disgrace and beginning to be allowed into the Kshatriya instead but in the end Vladimir made it through training, he would spend time as a cadet rather than a full member of the order for about two years before finishing his training and proving himself by early-mid 2030. He would later be assigned the role of scout, handling many reconnaissance missions in various parts of the metro and the surface.

Over the next few years he would have a relatively normal career in the Rangers; eradicating mutants, killing bandits and saving their hostages, doing secret missions against the Nazi's at their front line against the communists in 2032 and 2033.

By 2034 this would change and Vladimir like many Rangers would take part in the gruesome battle for D6 during which he would be badly injured, barley surviving the explosion of a grenade that was tossed during the battle.

He'd recover by October of 2035 and continue his career, and he had hoped that the battle of D6 was the last he'd ever have to deal with Metro-2 and whatever was there, sadly for Vladimir this would not be the case. By November of 2038 there were rumors of a new survivalist community south of Paveletskaya, a society that had formed within a bunker believed to be connected to the Metro-2 system. By 2039, The Polis council as well as the current leader of the Spartan Order had become curious, both knew there was much more to Metro-2 besides the D6 bunker, but only parts of it had been mapped by their scouts before the battle of D6 and from the few piece of pre-war governmental paper work that the Kshatriya could get their hands on from the Library. Now they had the possible whereabouts of an entrance. Gathering up a few scouts and a few other Rangers, Vladimir was ordered to head to this Bunker-703 and to find some way to access their portion of Metro-2 and to begin the process of mapping it out.
Possible Plots

Anything to do with my other characters and the Metro-2 subreddit.

Topics I Participated In

Earning Forgiveness 2

Started by Gleb Borodin · August 9, 2020

@Morrigan @Dragon
----Two Weeks Ago-----
The caravan continued on into the darkness, the nearly burnt out lanterns gave them just enough light to see the rails that the railcarts glided across but beyond that it was pitch black, a sight they had all become accustomed to over the past few days. They had been traveling for about a little less than a week by this point. Day after day of moving around the redline, using maintenance tunnels long forgotten to time, bribing patrols and once they left the redline, fighting their way through bandits and mutants in the tunnel.
No one said it would be easy but this was worse than any of them had expected. Their caravan left the redline days ago with sixty people, now only twenty remained. Many of them were either injured, dehydrated, hungry, exhausted or all of the above. Many had wondered if they truly were marching off to a better life somewhere else in the metro and had not been tricked into a death march.
“Halt!” a male voice called out. Stefania raised her head and looked ahead, in front of them was a man in a hoodie with an AK in his hands, behind him were several more guards behind sandbags their machine guns and spotlights focused in on the caravan.
Are we finally here? She wondered. She was starting to get comfortable, as was her travelling companion. The trip had not been easy for someone as sick as him.
“…Are you Popov?” The caravan leader asked.
“I am.” The man replied a moment later and soon a sense of relief spread throughout what remained of the group as Popov walked over.
“Welcome everyone!” He said. “Welcome. Please, get your things, my men will help you inside.” He explained and as more soldiers walked ahead Popov, as Stefania had been told, went directly for her part of the caravan and stopped alongside their railcart.
“Mr. Antipin? Are you alright?” He asked. The old man had been resting on the floor of the railcart as best he could, he could barley walk and was perhaps the weakest out of the caravans people.
“I’ve been better…” He whispered and Popov nodded.
“Do you think you’re still up for what you discussed with Andrew?” He asked and Antipin managed to weakly shake his head. Andrew the Black Smith was the man who had helped them set up this caravan, a former weapons maker from the Armory turned smuggler, with people being what he and his friends, men such as Popov, would smuggle out of the Redline. They had been doing it for years from what Stefania had been told.
“No?” Popov asked.
“No…she will…” He muttered weakly. Stefania didn’t argue, they had agreed days ago.
“…Does she know your daughter?” He asked and Antipin nodded.
“We’re best friends…” Stefania explained.
“Do you know where Yekaterina is?” Antipin asked weakly.
“Not yet, but I’ve sent word to friends of mine.” Popov added. “They can find anyone, and quickly too. When we find her we’ll decide what to do next.”
---- One week Ago----
“Ah, Stefania; come in.” Popov said, holding the tent flaps aside and walking back behind his desk.
“So…did you do it, did you finally find her?” Stefania asked after taking a seat, hoping he would not be wasting her time again.
“I did.” Popov said and Stefania breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived.
“I have…good news and bad news though.” He explained. “Well bad news for a communist such as yourself.” He clarified then shrugged and continued “The good news is she is alive as you suspected, she made it out of the Redline and is alive; last my sources checked anyway and it was pretty recent too. A few days back in fact.” Popov explained, leaning back in his chair, and going through a cabinet nearby.
“Well…then what’s the bad news?”
“She’s not in an independent station or at Oberon as we had hoped. She’s at Serpukhovskaya—in Hansa.” Popov explained, finally finding the home-made map he had been looking for, unrolling it and pointing to a station, his index finger landing on a station just north of Hansa’s southernmost station of Tulskaya. While Popov had expected a more animated reaction, Stefania merely looked at the map in confusion.
“W…what is she doing there?” She asked
“Living her life, I presume. From what I have been told she’s been working as something of an assistant to a stalker, well two stalkers actually.” Popov began. “One of them…a Mikhail Turgenev seems to be her boyfriend in fact from what we’ve gathered.” Popov explained and Katya felt almost as if she had been punched in her stomach at the boyfriend part but she kept that to herself.
“She’s working for those…capitalists then? Living as one of them?” She almost spat out and Popov nodded.
“Tell me about these…men of hers.” Stefania asked.
“Well Mr. Turgenev is in something of a partner ship with a Gregory Blok, another stalker slash explorer from the Arbat Confederation who sort of moves between the Arbat and Serpukhovskaya every couple of days; they both scavenge from a neighborhood on the surface called The Dead City. Place is a nightmare but a gold mine for stalkers. When their not picking that place apart they go to other parts of the city as well; Mikhail from what I can tell is nothing special.” Popov said. “But Mr. Blok is, he’s actually rather infamous in both the Hansa and the Arbat and other locations as well.” Popov explained and once more Stefania was confused, but also concerned.
“A criminal?” She asked. “Is…is she with them willingly?” Stefania asked soon after, hoping she misunderstood.
“Blok is not a criminal" Popov said seriously, noticing her nervousness. "At least not officially. He keeps finding loopholes and hiring others to move things for him; we’ve even used him to get our weapons a while back actually but only through an intermediary at the armory. As far as I can tell he’s more of a weird combination of stalker, arms dealer and smuggler, but despite all of that from what I can tell he’s not violent unless need be--he’s not a murder essentially is what I'm saying--he’s not a kidnapper either; so I’m sure she’s there of her own volition.” Popov explained, trying to come off as reassuring.
Stefania stifled another breath of relief, still suspicious about these men of hers…at the same time at least they knew where she was, hopefully. After a few more moments of staring at the map in silence, remembering how far they’d have to travel she looked back up Popov.
“When can we head out?” She asked.
----Present Day------
It had been the better part of a week since Misha had been banned from entering Polis. In that time a wedge had been driving between the members of the family.
“Are you coming, Mr. Turgenev?” Grischa called from the platform, Misha forced down the urge the tell the old man to knock it off. He was in his tent, still getting his radiation suit on and his pack loaded, normally Katya would help or at the least make conversation as he got everything together but she was still giving him the cold shoulder…mostly. In the past few days she had began to talk again, look at him more, she was seemingly coming around but still pissed off all the same.
The same could not be said for Grischa, the old bastard had become all business, more so than usual, the usual chit-chat in between business ventures was gone, most of what could be considered corner stones of their friendship were gone. Grischa treated Misha more and more like a soldier everyday, and himself more like a commander.
Fine, if that’s how he wants it then fine…Misha thought, finishing with his radiation suit and quickly throwing everything into his pack, staring at Katya who just sat on their bed in silence. Misha sighed and grabbed his RPK and slung it over his shoulder and began to walk out.
“I’ll be back in a few hours he said.”
“Misha…” She muttered and he stopped, hoping she’d say something, accept his apology, ask to come with, anything.
“…Just…be careful, please?” She asked, while Misha was disappointed that it wasn’t more, he also felt he couldn’t complain. It was something at least. At least she still cared to some extent.
“I will.” Misha told her with a nod and then left, heading for the stations airlock.
“Finally.” Grischa said, to which Misha glared at him but the old man, unshakable as always, just moved on ahead as if the dirty look meant nothing at all and looked at the two other stalkers present, Adam and Vasha. Both had worked with Misha and Grischa before, but they normally operated independently. They would need the extra help this time though, and not just for what they had found up top a few days ago; but also due to the lack of trust between Misha and the old man.
“Everyone ready?” Grischa asked once more, getting affirmative replies from Adam and Vasha, and before Misha could even respond the old man turned back around to tell the station’s main airlock guard to open up the gate.
“Heard you basically got grounded last week?” Vasha whispered and gave a soft but devious chuckle.
“Shut up!” Misha almost shouted back, the noise of the airlock gate opening up muffling most of it.
“Alright, it’s open; get moving!” The guard ordered and the stalkers threw their gas masks on, activated their watches and made their way through the airlock which quickly closed behind them and they began their ascent up the decrepit escalators, up towards the surface.
----Meanwhile at Polis-----
“How much for the tent at the far end of the platform?” Gleb asked.
“That one…ten bullets?” The ‘hotel’ owner asked. In all four of Polis’s station there were little groupings of tents that made up ‘hotels’ for travelers. Despite the stations opulence they were not exactly five stars, the tents were old, very close together, some even had holes, but they’d be good enough for the travelers who’d be at the station for only a day or two anyway and they'd have just enough privacy for him.
“Ten? Just for the night” Gleb asked then put the bullets on the table. “Gonna make me go bankrupt with how much I’ve already spent getting here. Every little bit counts these days…”
“You can try another station; they’ll ask for more.” The owner replied and Gleb nodded before muttering a thanks and heading to the tent. Waiting.
“May I come in, sir?” A female voice asked from outside the tent and he opened up the flap.
“What for?” Gleb asked expectantly.
“I got some new sheets for your bed.” She explained and Gleb nodded.
Good.
“Alright, come in.” Gleb ordered and the woman entered, laying some blankets down, and quickly sliding a folder across the bed to him, which Gleb quickly grabbed and looked through before looking outside the tent. Most people were already heading to the bar or going to bed, and the tent’s location gave it a bit more privacy than others but not much.
“I didn’t think it’d be you, Gleb.” The woman explained. “I thought they’d get me for this…but they told me they wanted you.” She continued.
“Yeah.” Gleb continued skimming the folders contents once more. “Jurisdiction, as always Natasha.” He added. “In an odd way.” He continued.
“…It was someone from the Redline then? Rather than someone from Polis?” She asked, their employers only told them so much, just enough for their job. Asking another person in the know was one of the few ways for people like them to get more information if they wanted.
“So it seems.” He said. “But that’s only part of it. They want me to… ‘have a word’ with Belikov. One of the Kshatriya here I believe.
“The Kshatriya chief, yes.” Natasha confirmed and Gleb nodded.
“Who will come after him?” Gleb asked and Natasha gave a small smirk.
“For right now it’ll be some higher-ranking members of the Polis council, a Dmitry Yahontov being the most likely. Took some time for him to see reason.” She muttered softly and Gleb nodded again.
“As for Belikov, how can I get him to see reason?” Gleb asked.
“Check the back.” Natasha explained and Gleb flipped through the papers in the folder, finding a picture of a young woman and a small document.
“Nadia Belikova....pretty girl…” Gleb muttered, knowing where this was going.
“His niece. Only family he’s got from what I’ve heard.” She explained and Gleb nodded.
“Good…” Gleb muttered.
“He there now?” He asked a moment later and Natasha nodded.
“Last I checked anyway, just before I came here.” She explained then pointed out the set of large wooden double doors that was the entrance to Belikov’s office.
“He’s too comfortable it seems, unlike the last chief there’s no one outside his office most days.” She whispered and Gleb nodded.
“When you’re done how will you leave?” She asked quietly.
“Same way I came in. Thank you, Natasha.” Gleb said and left the tent with his small satchel and made his way across the platform then to the other side of the station.
----
“…Hey, what the hell—who?” Belikov started when the doors opened up quickly then stopped when he saw who it was.
“…G-Gleb?” Belikov asked as Gleb closed the door.
“What…what are you doing here?” He asked nervously, his eyes already darting around the room as Gleb walked over and sat down at the chair in front of Belikov’s desk. A thousand different possibilities began to play in Belikov’s mind.
“…No.” He began and Gleb kept silent. He knew Gleb well, and his 'employers' as he called them. Many knew them in the metro, especially those like Belikov...do a favor or two for them and they'd pull some strings, they got him this job after all.
“No. No. There’s no way they would. Not me…not now.” Belikov muttered, an overconfident smile forming on his face which soon disappeared when Gleb tossed the picture from the folder down onto the desk. Belikov felt his heart stop momentarily, and his face went white as he looked back at Gleb desperately, already beginning to beg the younger man when Gleb finally spoke up.
“Those tunnels.” He said, and for a moment confused Belikov. “You know the ones. Those ‘maintenance’ tunnels.”
God damn you, Grischa!
“Just…please, leave her alone—I…I’ll tell you whatever—” Belikov stuttered, once more returning to his begging.
“I’ve been told it was a woman who found them. I’ve been told her name was Yekaterina Antipina? She is supposedly a refugee from the Redline. Came with some stalkers, one your familiar with? A…Gregory Blok?” Gleb asked and Belikov nodded quickly.
“Good. We know their names but tracking them has been harder. You seem to be a friend of this Mr. Blok. I’m guessing where he goes, they do?” Gleb asked and Belikov nodded once more.
"Y-yes..." Belikov stuttered. "Their...business partners--more like a family actually." Belikov explained weakly
“Good. Where is he?”
“I…” Belikov began, his mind was boggled by now; what should’ve been easy to answer escaped his mind and he began to remember conversations, pointless ones from years ago; anything Grischa had briefly mentioned about anything that could count as a home for a man like him.
“I…He’s—He’s at—” Belikov continued.
“Enough.” Gleb said calmly, silencing Belikov again. Gleb gave him a stern look then nodded to the picture of Nadia.
“Look at the picture, look at your niece. I know what she looks like, she is a pretty girl. Beautiful even, I bet she's already caught the eye of a man or two around Polis." Gleb began and Belikov, almost out of instinct, nodded.
"I know where her tent is. I know her schedule." He continued, staring Belikov dead in the eyes, calm as ever while the old man could hardly keep still in his seat.
"I know where she works, I know where she spends her off hours, which restaurant she likes to frequent when she can afford it, I know that you know damn well where this Mr. Blok is, and I know that Ms. Antipina is with him, most likely anyway, as you have implied.” Gleb explained. “So, you have ten seconds when I’m done talking, ten seconds to say whatever little shithole station their in. Or I will leave this office and I will find your niece, Nadia Belikova, whether it’s at her job, at her favorite restaurant, or most likely her tent while she is asleep and I will make sure she is no longer the pretty girl that I keep saying she is." Gleb said, this time becoming more forceful, his tone becoming more sincere and stern as Belikov continued to try and plead and was once more cut off by Gleb.
"And that’s if I choose to let her live, and you know the power men such as myself have, Belikov. You know that if I so choose so I can do that, and there is nothing that you, or Valkov, or Marcianus, or even the Polis council can do to stop it. We know everyone’s little secrets, we know what can win people over and what terrifies them, and if all else fails we learn their lives and when we can end them--So, just to remind you, when I’m done you will have ten seconds to tell me where the people I want live, or I will get up out of this chair and find your niece, and even if you grow a spine and grab that pistol from your desk, they’ll simply send another after you and your niece. So, as of right now, the clock is ticking.” Gleb said, leaning back in his chair slightly and going silent once more, all the while Belikov’s heart continued to beat, louder and louder, pulsing in his ears until it was deafening.
“…Serpukhovskaya…” Belikov managed to weakly mutter out.
“Serpukhovskaya? The Hansa station north of Tulskaya?” Gleb asked, wanting to be sure before he left, already standing up once he saw Belikov give a weak and defeated nod. Belikov could hardly think. He couldn’t lose Nadia…she was all he had left besides his job in life.
“See, was that so hard?” Gleb asked with a smirk and Belikov glared at him angrily but still to terrified to do much else.
“Will…there be anything else?” Belikov managed to say through gritted teeth and Gleb just nodded.
“Just one thing…” He muttered.
----------
Quickly now, quickly, quickly! Gleb’s thoughts commanded, his tried his best to hurry along but not to look as if he was trying to get out of Polis in a hurry. He had done this countless times before but every time he tried to make his escape, paranoia and doubt would set in and he felt as if he were on display for the whole metro to see.
He would take the normal tunnel, the one he took to get here. He had feared that that girls discovery of it would put everything into lock down but it seems the Kshatriya just wanted everything to go back to normal and other than a simple lock there was no guards hanging around the entrance to the ‘maintenance’ room. The key to the lock had come from Belikov’s desk, quickly he undid the lock, pocketed the key and hurried into the maintenance room, closing the door behind him before any passerby saw him and began to make his way down the tunnel. It didn’t take long to find the false wall and begin his journey back home. He'd have plenty of time, and more importantly resources back there to find make it to Serpukhovskaya.
----
Natasha had been ‘working’ as a maid for Polis for a while now, almost two years. No one really paid to much attention to her, no one would raise an eyebrow at a maid heading to Chief Belikov’s office. Still though she made her way to the office quickly, opened the door and let it close behind her.
Good job, Gleb. Natasha thought as she walked over to check Belikov’s body, feeling his neck for a pulse and finding none. Part of her had feared Belikov would fight back, pull a gun or make some noise, call for help or something, even with his niece on the line but thankfully it seemed Gleb got through to him. Soon her job would truly begin.
She gave the office a once over, the same with Belikov’s body. Nothing seemed too suspicious. No blood, nothing knocked over, no signs of a struggle. Gleb got in and out cleanly thankfully. If it all worked out it’ll look like Belikov had a heart attack.
With that…it’s time to get to work. She thought and began to breath, heavily at first then more forcefully then went for the door as quickly as she could, forcing it open.
“Help!” She screamed out into the station, the few passersby soon rushing over.
----A few hours later, Serpukhovskaya---
The gasmask was perhaps the worst part of getting undressed due to his injuries. He had returned from the Dead City was cuts and stab wounds all along his torso and shoulders, those hurt like hell but were well on their way to completely healing over the last few weeks, most of them weren’t as bad as they appeared when he had to escape the dead city last time. Even now they still stung but they were nothing compared to the pulsating pain that would shoot throughout his face and then cause it to throb for a while afterwards, sending out more little pin-pricks and a sharp pain afterwards.
He practically had to force himself to continue, taking a deep breath and gritting through the pain, Misha had pulled off his gasmask upon returning. The decontamination process wasn’t as bad but water and cleaning products didn’t exactly feel good to the cuts on his face either.
Usually, before all that nonsense with Joe and Polis, they’d all go to the bar after getting changed into their day clothes. Or rather, Grischa would take them but now there were no talks of going to the bar, no jokes or happy conversations or thankfulness for return from the surface safe and sound once more, there was no comradery, no Grischa had simply told them to get going while he looked over what they had collected, saying he would find a buyer for all the fuel, scrap, spear parts and ammunition they had found and then send every man their cut. No one tried to challenge it, there was no arguing with Grischa when he was still this pissed. So, everyone returned home. Misha had been dreading his return home for…the first time in his life probably, now that he thought about it anyway.
We gotta fix this…He thought as he rounded the pillar on the platform, soon finding his tent…and Katya still inside. She had a small book in her hands and looked up at him and after a brief moment gave a small smile and Misha felt himself relax. After their argument last week he had found himself more nervous around here. He could handle the anger and annoyance that came with walking on eggshells around Grischa, when it came to Katya though…all it brought was pain. He was more angry at himself then how she had reacted.
Who could blame her after all?
Misha entered the tent and forced a smile at Katya, it hurt to smile. Anything with his nose or face was a chore now; and no doubt would be for however long it took everything to heal. Once he got in he put his RPK in the corner and then zipped up the tent and began to strip down his radiation suit and begin to get dressed.
“What are you reading?” He asked as he looked around for his shirt, she shrugged and flipped the book over. Despite Hansa having many impressive libraries in most of their stations, Serpukhovskaya was one that had very little in the way of well maintained books, many were like Katya’s at the station’s library; missing pages and covers, you’d have to ask around and wait for either a stalker or a caravan to bring in books that had not fallen apart or had begun to rot unlike in the rest of Hansa, where some stations had printing presses and were actively making and selling them left and right.
“It…seems to be a biology textbook.” She said and Misha smirked.
“You thinking of becoming a biologist then?” He asked and she gave a small chuckle.
“Maybe—I think I could be.” She said then shrugged. “Mostly I was just going through the library and just flipped through it…then I found this.” She said and turned the page to him, inside was an incredibly faded picture of a large animal; one he hadn’t seen in years.
“It’s an…elephant?” He asked and then nodded to himself after he made out what was left of the picture on the page and Katya nodded back.
“Yeah.” She replied. “…you said you were…nine? Right? When the war happened?” She asked and after throwing his shirt on, Misha nodded, his mind going back to July of 2013, the last time he lived on the surface rather than made quick expeditions to it. The age gap between the couple had been weird at first, for Misha at least. Misha had been born on the otherside of Moscow, north west of what is now Hansa territory, back in 2005. He had plenty of memories of life on the surface, of the sun, the fresh air, snow, rain, ice cream, cars everywhere. All the things Katya had never, and now that he thought about, would probably never see, except with a few exceptions such as the surface during her brief training runs years back. She had been born underground, according to her the day after the wars first anniversary. The tunnels were all she knew, and much like the age gap these two different life experiences was weird, at first, they learned to make do despite it; and in a weird way it was a plus to have conversations like this with her. While many in the metro would go into bouts of melancholy when reminiscing or crying over the world, they had all lost, Misha actually enjoyed talking about the old world, why he could not say. He missed it sure, but he supposed he was not the type to cry over it.
“Well a few months shy, but yeah; pretty close to nine.” He explained.
“…Did you ever go to the zoo?” She asked and he smirked and nodded, finishing with his clothes, and sitting next to her on the bed.
“I did, a few times. My family…wasn’t really well off, basically dirt poor but we would go to the zoo when we could.” He explained then continued on, knowing where her conversation would go.
“…I can kind of remember the elephants. They were huge, obviously, taller than those city buses you might find on the surface. Slow as hell.” He explained. “Smelled.” He continued with a smirk and a shake of his head. “I liked other animals though…” He explained, thinking back to his few trips to the zoo with his parents, there was a few specific ones he liked more than others.
“Like?” She asked and he shrugged.
“The monkeys, penguins, a lot of the birds actually…wolves, foxes.” He said, wondering which of those she’d be familiar with. She merely nodded and was silent for a moment.
“….I’m sorry, Misha.” She muttered and the barley visible smirk that had formed on his face disappeared and they both became tense again.
“It’s fine—” He began to tell her.
“It’s not.” She said back, calmly, seemingly having thought out what she had to say and accounted for Misha trying to brush it aside.
“I…I shouldn’t have lost it on you.” She began. “And I definitely shouldn’t have smacked you.” She said. “No one should, I…I just…” She sighed and shrugged. “I was angry…afraid.” She explained.
“I fucked up.” Misha muttered.
“Yeah…you did, but I still shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry…I really am.” She said, a tired but hopeful look in her eyes as she became silent, waiting for him to either accept her apology or to keep justifying her actions. She doubted he’d tell her to fuck off but she was afraid of what this would do to them. Misha remained quiet for a bit, thinking everything over. Neither of them were good at apologies, never had been for the few years they’ve been together.
At least we’re trying…He thought.
“….Do you still think I’m an idiot?” He asked after a few more moments of silence, giving her a small, almost childish smirk and she laughed a little in response and nodded.
“Sometimes…but not all the time.” She explained.
“Reckless. Reckless would be the best way to describe you sometimes.” She said a moment later and he nodded.
“Yeah—that sounds like me.” He said and she made him turn his head to look at her, looking over the bandages on his face.
“Does it still hurt?” She asked and he nodded slightly.
“Little bit…”
“Just a little bit?” She asked.
“…Ok, more than a little.” He muttered back after a moment as she took her hands away from his face after deciding against touching his wounds.
“…Think a drink might help with that?” She asked.
“It might.”
“It’s on me.” She added.
“…Alright, I’m in.” He told her.
“Well…come on then.” She said, taking his hand and stepping back as he pushed himself up off their bed and she pulled down the zipper on the tent flap and walking out with him and beginning to make their way down the platform.
“Hold up!—Mr. Turgenev!” Someone shouted from behind Misha, who, along with Katya, stopped and turned to see a man in a hoodie and an AK slung over his shoulder approaching them with a young blond woman in tow behind him.
“…Do I know you?” Misha asked as the man came over with his companion. By now, Katya had already begun to ignore the conversation between both of the men, and the words the woman began to say that interrupted their conversation also fell on deaf airs. For Katya the world stood still, and the face of the woman was one she had never expected to see ever again.
“S…Stefania?” Katya muttered. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.
“Yes…Katya, I—” The blonde woman began to say before the man with her spoke up.
“…Would it be possible to continue this somewhere else?” He asked. “The bar maybe?” He added, looking off in its general direction.
“I think you should explain it now.” Misha told the man sternly.
“I will. At the bar. Trust me, we’ll be needing some drinks.” The man explained, taking Stefania by the hand and beginning to head down the platform, before Misha could react Katya followed.
“You know them?” Misha asked, hurrying after her.
“All will be explained soon.” The man replied. They continued down the platform then stopped again.
“Mr. Blok!” The man called out, Grischa had been walking back towards his tent but stopped just as Misha had at the call of his name. He ignored Misha, for once not out of malice but seemingly genuine confusion on who this man could be.
“What’s all this?” Grischa asked, gesturing to the tiny crowd in front of him.
“Come with us to the bar—I need to speak with all of you.” The man explained and Grischa, after a brief moment of thought nodded and gestured for the man to lead on.
What the hell Grischa!? Misha wanted to shout, when they had stopped for the old man he had hoped he would help stop whatever the hell was going on not agree to this weirdo’s need for a conversation. The man lead them towards the bar without another word, the little crowd following behind him the entire way.
----Meanwhile at Polis---
“Welcome back, corporal. How’s Riga doing?” Valkov asked Voloyda walked into his tent. Valkov had sent him to deal with some bandits in Riga’s tunnels, a small group but they proved to be craftier than he had expected. He had hoped for a quick mission, get to Riga, get to the tunnels, off some bandits, go to the bar, be the local hero then spend the next day or so returning to Polis.
“Could’ve been better, sir.” Voloyda said bluntly. “The intel was off, it wasn’t a group of ‘five or so’ as we heard. It was more like ten, maybe twelve. A lot smarter than your usual bandits, came across more trip wires and traps then I think I’ve seen in my life. Some crazy mother-fucker with a Shambler, high as hell, nearly took my head off with it.” Voloyda continued.
“Jesus” Valkov muttered, judging by Voloyda’s tone none of it was exaggerated, then again the Ranger wasn’t one to do that anyway…well too much at least.
“Oh it gets worse. Trying to sneak through the place was impossible. I only took down two of the sentries before the whole tunnel and the maintenance room they lived in turned into a warzone. Riga’s militia had to get involved. They lost two guys trying to save my sorry ass.”
“God damn it.” Valkov sighed and Voloyda nodded.
“Well…we got it done in the end. Those tunnels are safe again, at least from bandits. That anomaly between Alekseyevskaya and Riga seems intent on staying there.” Voloyda commented then shrugged. “If you can, send me with someone else next time, unless we know for sure.” Voloyda said and Valkov nodded.
“I’ll try…well, you got it done like you said. Hopefully nothing else comes up today, I say you’ve earned a break for now.” Valkov explained and dismissed Voloyda soon after who left the tent and returned to the barracks and stowed his gear in his locker before walking into the rest of Polis, it was late and he could use a drink right about now
He stopped on the tracks and looked over at the platforms that contained the home for the more well to do Rangers. It had been a few days since they interrogated Joseph, and Joe, as usual was angry; he considered heading over and seeing if she was home. She wasn’t on a mission last he heard, a drink could do her good if she was willing, he thought and began to head over.
“Help!” Someone shouted, an old woman; her voice echoing throughout most of the station, easily heard by most due to how late it was. Voloyda turned, soon finding the source of the screaming at Chief Belikov’s office. Voloyda began to sprint over.
“Help, I think he’s dead!” With that many who had been staring began to crowd around Belikov’s office just as Voloyda entered, making his way past the maid and walking over to the old man, checking his pulse and finding none.
God damn it. Voloyda thought, looking around for what could have killed the man but saw nothing.
Did the fat ass finally have a heart attack? He asked himself and kept looking around. It’s what it seemed like, there was no cuts, no bruising, no blood or anything else. It’s like he just died. The maid continued with her screaming, asking passersby and the crowd to get some help. As Voloyda walked back over to the maid to calm her down some in the crowd ran off, some saying they were gonna get Valkov, others to find Dagonet while some began to hurry off to find the first Kshatriya they could get their hands on.
Guess it’s back to work then…Voloyda thought before turning his attention back to the maid.
Earning Forgiveness.

Started by AnOriginalAccountNam · August 3, 2020

@Morrigan
"You want another drink?" Grischa asked, watching Katya down what little remained of Joe's vodka and then hand the bottle back to the old man as she nodded and he did the same.
"...It's been a hell of a day." He said, and began to lead Katya to the bar.
What time is it? He wondered. Every station in the metro ran on its own time, where it was the crack of dawn in one it was the middle of the night in another. Right now it seemed it was getting late at Polis, people were heading home and those who were not were going to one of Polis' many bars which Katya and Grischa soon found themselves in. With the left over bullets he had, Grischa bought Katya and himself some dinner, mushroom soup and then after a little back and forth with the bartender Grischa also got them the hardest alcohol his left over cash could buy them, some shroom vodka straight from Kievskaya.
The dinner conversation was mostly one sided, Katya pushed her food around and only stared at her drink. Grischa knew he wasn't the kindest person, but over the past few years Katya had spent around him and that good for nothing Misha, he had, at least somewhat privately, grown fond of the girl, and hated to see her give everything the silent treatment.
I'll get her to cheer up...or die trying. He thought, then looked around the bar and shrugged before grabbing his drink and holding it up, gesturing for Katya to do the same, a little toast between the two.
"Hey....to better days." He said, she gave him a confused look and shrugged.
"To better days" she said and downed her drink.
----------------
Just before the Polis version of 'night' was to become 'day' there was a series of thunderous knocks on Joe's door.
"O-open up!....Come on, open up!" Some one shouted as the knocking grew louder then the knocks turned into strikes, as if the person was punching the door.
"I said come out bitch!" The female voice behind the door almost screamed.
Death is for the Weak

Started by Joseph Sousa · July 26, 2020

Joseph finally started to recognize some places. There were changes, a lot of changes but that didn't matter, he knew where to go. He had to know where to go. He wasn't going to let that place be the cause of his death. He had to see his daughter again, had to make sure she knew he didn't leave intentionally. It was important to him.
Even as he stumbled, he was hungry and thirsty. It had been a day since he had anything to eat or drink but now wasn't the time to dwell on that. He pushed himself back up and forward.
Just another mile.
Just another step.
He could do this.
The filter he had was old and probably not even functioning anymore but he was as stubborn as his daughter.
By the time he reached the station entrance he could barely stand. The guards were up in arms. "Who the hell are you?" they shouted as he collapsed.
"Sousa," he said before he blacked out.
The guards scrambled. "Isn't Sousa a woman?" some of them said. "That's what I thought."
"Just get him inside and cuff him to the bed. We'll figure it out if he survives."
They dragged Joseph into the entrance and decontaminated him before taking him to medical and tying him to the bed before a doctor checked them out. Once he was stable they went and found Joe and told her a guy had asked for her which confused the hell out of her but she went anyways. She figured it was probably the dumb ass vulture hoping she'd not let him get kicked out of Polis or some shit. When she entered the curtained off place she actually stopped dead in her tracks, her hands dropping to her sides as she blinked to be sure it was real.
Voldya was behind her. If he tried to go around her she would stop him. "Just give me a second."
@AnOriginalAccountNam
Bunker-703 Part 1

Started by Vladimir "Volodya" Grachyov · July 17, 2020

Within the Moscow metro there were two stations named Paveletskaya, both right next to each other. One being the transfer to the Ring Line or Hansa, the other being the independent station, simply known as just Paveletskaya but that wasn't its only name, many more called it The Hole. Paveletskaya was an odd station, long ago one might have considered it one of the more architecturally beautiful stations within the metro, like many stations from the soviet era it was ornate, and deep underground, and constructed to be both a piece of public transportation but also a bomb shelter. At first, in the early days, it seemed Paveletskaya had it made. They were deep underground, they were one of the few safe places in the southern metro, they had a large population all dedicated to keeping their station safe and trade with the then still independent stations of Hansa were getting off to a good start. Then at some point in the mid to late 2010s some stalkers decided that the stations depth was good enough to keep the station safe, and removed the hermetic gate at the stations entrance that made up its airlock. At first there was no problems, the depth of the station did keep most of the radiation out, occasionally some radioactive dust would blow in and cover the escalators but for the most part it did not affect the people to any noticeable extent but by the early 2020s a new threat would arise, mutants.
Paveletskaya would soon become a battlefield between the various types of mutants on the surface and the residence of the station who were soon no longer allowed to leave the station due to the Hansa, at least not easily. Hansa needed them to keep mutants from flooding the entire southern portion of the Ring, and soon a deal was made. Hansa would give Paveletskaya all the weapons and ammunition they could ever need, in exchange Paveletskaya would keep the mutants back.
This was well known to everyone in the Metro, it was the official story that everyone knew, Vladimir especially. He had been to Paveletskaya before, many Rangers had at some point in their career, their were few he could think of who had never set foot in this hellish station. Normally he'd report to the station master, ask for a report on anything going on in the area, if they needed supplies or anything else but now he was on a different mission, he had considered going to the station master but it seemed he was busy with some kind of emergency and was needed at the transfer to Hansa leaving only a few guards to run the political affairs of the station.
Walking down the ash covered platform of the station, past the malnourished families sitting by their campfires, Vladimir continued ahead, towards the southern tunnels. He knew the basics of his mission: Somewhere in the tunnels between Paveletskaya and Avtozavodskaya was a technical tunnel leading to a bunker, Bunker-703, a long forgotten left over of the cold war. For decades it was believed nothing laid south of Paveletskaya, even the station of Avtozavodskaya was only partially inhabited by some odd communists who had no affiliation to the Red Line and did not care for outsiders, nor did anyone care for them, but now it seemed a community that was well established but isolationist had finally opened up and now, every few weeks or months a long caravan would come wandering out of the southern tunnels and trade with this poor station--why Hansa had showed no interest was anyone's guess, regardless Vladimir had been sent to check it out, and if it existed, to begin to process of mapping out not just the bunker, but also Metro-2.
Part of him wanted to rush ahead, to tell the guards at the southern tunnel to let him through and hurry off for Bunker-703, but Vladimir decided he'd try and learn any more rumors he could from the people here, they had to know something.
Escaping the Dead City

Started by Mikhail "Misha" Turgenev · June 28, 2020

{Misha woke up gasping and coughing as he regained consciousness. He tried to sit up but stopped as pain shot through his body and head as he did.}
"Fuck..."
{He turns his head and notices the rather large watchman that had pounced on him when he exited a ruined apartment building. It had knocked his Kalash from his hands, and he smacked his head hard on the pavement while the Watchman began to claw at his chest, he had managed to get his knife out and hit its neck, then it fell on top of him and he passed out from the shock. With what little strength he had left he pushed the Watchman off of him and then, on hands and knees began to crawl towards his Kalash, grabbing it he forced himself up and stumbled off towards the apartment building, forcing the door open and collapsing on the floor in the kitchen, gasping for air once more as he does. He manages to get his backpack off and begins to wrap bandages around his wounds just as his watch begins to beep.}
"What...?"
{00: 50....00:49...00:48...}
"Not now..."
{Misha pulls a new filter out and screws it into his mask before looking into his backpack once more, three filters.}
"God damn it..."
{Just then footsteps are heard in the apartment buildings hallway, Misha grabs his Kalash and sets it to automatic and levels it at the door, listening to the footsteps getting closer. They weren't the normal pitter-patter of the watchmen, these were heavy and loud, the familiar sound of boots hitting the ground. The stories of ghosts, trapped forever in their final moments from when they died, and for those in this city, when the world ended, were all to familiar to Misha. He knew there were things in the metro and on the surface that humans could not understand, but now he found himself hoping it was the spirit of someone long dead then a possible stalker from the Nazi or the communists stations. Gather up some strength, he manages to call out}
"Whose there!?"