Jump to content
Metro: Beyond

Recommended Posts

An Italian philosopher, one Niccolò Machiavelli, posed a question in one of his most prolific works. "Is it better to be feared, or respected?"  The answer he had provided was that it was good to be feared, but one must take care not to be hated. 

Signore Machiaveilli, Dusty Haig could not help but note, seemed to have a point, because being one of the most feared men in one of the most feared factions in the Metro was good. 

Today was another day of patrols. While the Tagansko Line was slowly falling under the Reich's influence, his paymasters demanded more of him than a couple of stations. The sooner the Line fell under the control of the Reich, the sooner he could get the fuck out of the Metro and start fucking moving. America was his end destination.

Or was it?

Times like today, Dusty almost didn't want to go home. If there was anything left of America, he'd be just another American, an ordinary human being. They'd take his Bitch, take his uniform, take everything that had kept him alive in this dank, dirty metro for the past two decades and change. Fuck that. He wasn't Private Haig anymore. He was Dusty. And Dusty was just peachy here in these tunnels, Bitch in hand, and little toy soldiers lined up in front of him.

Today was inspection day for this little Reich outpost, and that meant that Dusty was gonna get his pound of flesh out of at least one little maggot today.

Destiny Station was currently on the list. Polyanka. He'd heard rumors of 'ghosts' haunting the tunnels, memories and wisps of a bygone age. Bullshit. Hallucinations and bad dreams of cooped-up Ivans with nothing but time to think and listen to the deep, dark tunnels. A light breeze down here made grown men piss their pants. It made Dusty ashamed. He'd always been told Russians were made of tougher stuff. The Reich even dressed for it.

Why the fuck a bunch of Russians thought it was a smart idea to cosplay as Nazis (you know, the guys they beat the everloving shit out of in the Second World War), Dusty would never understand, but hell, they paid better than the Reds, which was fine by him. If they asked him to start up a concentration camp for a whole Beta-C's worth of MGRs, he'd be sending muties through a meat grinder in minutes. 

The watchpost staff stood arrayed in front of him, nine men in total, not counting the command, who stood beside him. Each man stood loaded for bear and ready for inspection, seeming to think that he was gonna go down the line, one by one, and bash them at the first sign of mutation. 

Nah. That wasn't on the agenda. Yet. He had bigger fish to fry. Somebody at Polyanka had a very, very big mouth, and had a problem keeping it closed. Somebody told someone else something, and that got to someone else, and that, also, got to someone else, who passed that along to yet another someone else, and pretty soon the whole damn Metro was gonna know what the Reich was up to. 

If he couldn't be trusted with information as small as the existence of Dusty Haig, in Dusty's opinion, he couldn't be entrusted with vital equipment and oxygen that could be used by someone with more than two functioning fucking brain cells. 

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, in practiced Russian. Once, he could barely speak the language. Now, even if he had the mother of all American accents, he was at least intelligible. 

"Yes, sir!" came the response, in unison. Nervous. Jumpy. Word was travelling fast around Reich-controlled stations about Dusty, it seemed. He didn't make house calls because he found them fun

"Good. Then I don't need to introduce myself." Dusty's eyes wandered over the group. "However, I believe you all, as loyal soldiers of the Reich, are entitled to a bit of information. There is treason in your midst. Soldiers assigned to this very outfit have leaked classified information to outside forces in Hanza. Information that could jeopardize our future operations in this very station. I do not need to remind you the punishment for treason, gentlemen, but... I am willing to be merciful. Report the men who have been leaking intelligence to our enemies, and you will not only  be spared, but rewarded for your loyalty to the Reich. Refuse to comply, and I will be forced to assume that all of you are complicit in this treason. In that case, you shall be dealt with according to protocol. I will give you a few moments to consider your options, soldiers. Use them wisely."

With that said, he turned to his second - aDagestani man, Abdulvakhabov- and spoke in perfect, fluid English. It was unlikely the men would be able to understand him, especially when he used code. "Standby for Black Bravo dash Lima."


Good. If the men didn't want to cooperate, he could make them cooperate. 

It didn't take long for the fear to crack one of them.

"It was Medvedev, sir!" one of the men stated, a wiry, short little slug with a rusted, beat-up AKS. "We went whoring in Hanza on leave. I warned him to keep his mouth shut, but he must have gotten drunk and-"

"Vitaly, you son of a bitch!" another shouted, breaking his salute. Must be Medvedev. "You lie!"

"Woah, woah, woah, woah... slow down there, cowboy," Dusty said, smiling beside himself as he carefully aimed his Bitch at Medvedev. "Get back in formation and tell me anything you think I might need to know."

The man did as he was ordered, and notably, barely even flinched. "We did go whoring, yes, and I did get fucking drunk, but we didn't go to Hanza. We stayed on the Tagansko the entire time. If Sobolov went to Hanza, he most certainly did not do it with me."

"I can attest to that, sir," another man, tall and broad, spoke up, cool as a cucumber. "Some of us would go to Hanza in plainclothes. Never Medvedev. He prefers to stay near home because his tattoos make him identifiable."

"Let me see 'em, boy," Dusty said, jerking his gun up slightly. Medvedev nervously complied, throwing off his shirt like it was on fire to reveal arms covered in fascist iconography. This was a Reich's man through and through. 

"My honor is true, Hauptmann Haig," Medvedev stated, shaken, yet somehow confident in spite of it. He was scared, yeah, but anyone who told you that 'if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear' was a god-damn liar. 

"So it is, Medvedev, so it is." He then motioned to the calmest man among them. "Who else didn't go on these trips to Hanza?"

"Commander Taktarov, Medvedev, and Simonov preferred to go to Schiller for recreation, from what I understand."

"That is correct," Commander Taktarov agreed. He'd already been thoroughly investigated back at Schiller. No reason for him to lie. Dusty turned his attention to the men whose names weren't listed. 

"Medvedev. Simonov. Step out of formation." He then motioned to the calm giant. "What's your name, soldier?"


"You as well, Bruno." 

All three men called stepped out of line towards Dusty, where they were motioned on further by Abdulvakhabov and fell in behind him. Now it fell to the rest. Vitaly first. 

The Beast roared, and three bullets flew, two hitting the man in the chest and one right between the eyes. He crumpled like wet paper, his head smacking against the Metro floor with a loud, wet crack. MGRs never failed. 

"He seemed like the type to never shut up," Dusty noted. "Better safe than sorry. The rest of you will be taken in for questioning. Should you be found innocent of wrongdoing, you will be reassigned to surface patrol. Drop your weapons." 

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me..." one of the men muttered.

"If I were shitting you we wouldn't have a dead body in front of us now, would we, son, now drop 'em. Five."

All but one of the men dropped their weapons as soon as he started counting. The one who'd bellyached held onto his shotgun for longer. Too long for Dusty's liking. He fired again, this time five shots. Each one hit home center mass, and the man dropped his gun as he fell back, landing on his stomach in the rapidly-forming puddle of blood from Vitaly's dispatch. He twitched for a bit, but soon fell still. 

"I never was much good with keeping time, men." Dusty muttered, turning back to Bruno, Simonov, Taktarov, Lieutenant Mueller, and Medvedev. "You five gentlemen are my will enforced on this place. Until you are reinforced, hold this station. I'll send word to command to get you some replacements as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," Taktarov replied. "Would you like to perform a full inspection of the station?"

"That's a negative. You handle that and get me a report no later than tomorrow evening. I'll be waitin'."

"Of course, sir."

Well, that was much less violent than Dusty had honestly thought it would be. He was expecting some real resistance from the station, but it seemed either there really was just two idiots in their midst, or perhaps they were too scared of him to properly speak, unless it was to sell each other out to the wolves. Made his job a hell of a lot easier.

Seemed old Niccolò was pretty damn smart, after all.


Edited by deTimber
error fix
Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

  • Create New...