Metro: 2033 RP (Roleplay)

Aleksander banged three times on the surface door of Prospekt Mira, waiting impatiently as the guards on the other side squabbled about opening it, about whether or not he was some beast wanting to slaughter them all.
"A beast wouldn't fucking knock!" He shouted in exasperation, not expecting them to hear him. Eventually, the door was opened and Aleksander entered the station. His rifle was hanging from his side, while on his back he carried his Helsing and a large duffel bag, filled with scavenged items from the surface. He nodded at the guards as he removed his mask, and headed into the Market.

After delivering the supplies to his client, he headed to the bar for a drink; his freshly-earned bullets burning a hole in his pocket. It wasn't like he was going to shoot them, if he could help it. Downing a shot of vodka and ordering another, Aleksander took a much needed rest.

Vlad listened and nodded as the merchant detailed his job to him. In truth, he had been sold on the idea as soon as he heard they would be going to Polis. The 'city' was notorious for denying sole travellers, so this was his best bet. The amount of bullets being offered only helped to sweeten the deal though. Vlad's ears pricked up when the merchant began to detail his route however. Too close to a Red or Nazi station could spell trouble.

"We'll be travelling to Sukharevskaya, then onwards to Chistye Prudy, Turgenevskaya, Kitay-Gorod, Tretyakovskaya, Dobryninskaya, Oktyatrskaya, Park Kultury, Kievskaya, Smolenskaya and finally Arbatskaya which lands us squarely in Polis. Though you'll understand if we have to take some detours along the way. I haven't travelled that route in a while and it may be that some of the tunnels are no longer in use."

Vlad nodded at him, though the mention of Chistye Prudy and Turgenevskaya didn't please him. He would have to keep his head down there, and hope that none of the guards recognised him

Next to Aleksander, a guard he had become aquainted with on his last visit sat down and ordered his own drink.
"You just get back from the surface?" He asked as the drink was placed in front of him.
"I did," Aleksander replied, "Just having a drink before I head back to Polis."
"Polis?" The guard repeated, "There's a trader looking for escorts to Polis, if you're heading that way anyway, you might as well earn a few bullets extra."

Aleksander nodded, asking where he could find this trader, and after getting directions, he headed over.
"Are you the guy looking for escorts to Polis?" He asked, carrying his helmet under his arm, his other hand keeping his rifle from banging into his hip.

Vlad looked the newcomer ,who had just interrupted, up and down. He was clearly a Stalker, based on his gear and the guy looked pretty handy with his gun. Stalkers were usually trustworthy, and loyal only to whoever was paying them, so Vlad felt safe with this guy. He stood aside patiently and waited whilst they talked.

Aleksander quietly listend as the trader went over the route they would take, eying up his apparent co-worker as he listened. The guy didn't look too big, but he wanted to know more before he accepted any kind of job.
"So who's this?" Aleksander asked, twitching his head towards the man.

"Vlad." Vlad said as he offered a hand out to the man in front of him. The Stalker was clearly well armed, Vlad noted. THat would be good for some of the tunnels they were due to travel through. He knew the tunnel between Turgenevskaya and Kitay-Gorod was reputed to be dangerous. Though no-one ever said exactly how.

Aleksander examined Vlad as he shook his hand. He couldn't quite tell if he was a Russian, thanks to the balaclava covering his face, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it, even if he did turn out to be a sub-human, not in Hanza.
"Aleksander," He said, nodding, "Where are you from?"

"Originally? I came down to Metro in Lubyanka but we moved to Nakhimovsky Prospekt a few years later. I grew up there and worked as a guard all my life. We got the occasional Bandit attack and mutants every now and then though, especially because of the water generators at Sevastapolskaya. You know they power the whole of Hanza? Quite impressive. What about you?" Vlad liked to talk about his life, or rather his fake life that they had invented before he had left Lubyanka station.

"I lived in Chekhovskaya when I was little, and I lived there until the Nazis took over," Aleksander answered, "My mother took us to Krasnopresnenskay as soon as she was able, and then we moved to Tretyakovskaya." He answered. It wasn't an entire lie, he had lived in Chekhovskaya, and his first posting had been on the Reich/Hanza border, before he'd been shipped off to the Front Line, at least. "Remember much of Lubyanka? Must've been hell living under the Communists."

"We weren't under the Reds back then. It was the Arbat Confederation, though I'll admit I don't remember much of it. We left in the year before the Revolution took fire there. I've never been back." Vlad chewed over what the Stalker had said, running stations through his head. "I've heard Tretyakovskaya is mostly flooded though, and that there's whole tunnels there that you need a boat just to get through."

"It's the truth, mostly," Aleksander replied, "They don't call it Venice for nothing. There's always food, at least. Plenty of fish; mind, you have to check for radiation. I knew this woman, ate a bad fish and got cancer for her trouble. Shrimp's can be a bastard if you fall out of your boat, too." Aleksander paused, scratching his head. "Got any combat experience outside of your guard duty?"

"Shrimp?" Vlad asked in an amused tone. "Those little pink things that we used to have before the Metro?" He chuckled a little at that. "Not really. I travelled from Nakhimovsky Prospekt with a caravan to here though and that wasn't an easy journey. Nagornaya and Tulskaya are completely bandit controlled. "

"Any experience at all that might help us on our trip?" Aleksander asked, continuing to probe Vlad. "It's not good to carry dead-weight halfway across the Metro."

"сука. Fighting bandits is plenty of experience. We're not all surface divers like yourself." Vlad was offended by his statement. They'd made sure his backstory had a decent amount of combat experience just in case he needed to travel with caravans and the like.

"Bandits are one thing, but there's a lot worse than bandits in the tunnels," Aleksander replied, "A lot worse than mutants too, come to think of it. You sure you're up for the journey?"

"I'm sure I can shoot better than you even with half a bottle of vodka in me." Vlad gave a little chuckle. "Come on, Stalker. Give me the chance and I'll prove I can handle myself."

"Last time I gave some stranger a chance I ended up with two dead Stalkers and a nasty scar across my back," Aleksander replied, "Besides, it's not up to me. It's up to our employer," He turned to the trader, looking him in the eye. "You good with a newbie watching your back?" He asked him.

Konstantin scans the merchant's wares. HIs eyes eventually land on the stock available for the Duplet on his back. He had been meaning to grab one for a while, but had never had enough ammunition for a purchase. He grabs for the duffel bag slung across his shoulder and digs around in it. He procures the required amount and the transaction finishes with barely a word spoken. He breaks the silence with a simple question. "Anyone looking for some jobs needing to be done?" The merchant looks around to his compatriots and one of them speaks up. "Friend of ours is looking for some help to Polis. Look for the lost looking man." Konstantin nods and heads off the way he came and past the bar.

He can see a small group of men gathered around having a conversation, one looking like the merchant that the others were talking about. He approaches the group from behind, breaking in so the merchant can see him. "You need some help getting to Polis?" He asks.

Aleksander looked at the newcomer as the merchant explained everything for the third time, taking note of his equipment and the way he carried himself. Apart from his guns, his gear screamed of surface exploration, so he was probably a Stalker.
"So, what's your name?" He asked as the merchant finished the details of the journey, muttering that three would be enough.

He takes in the information relayed to him from the merchant and nods as his new employer stops speaking. He is about to ask another question regarding the other two, but he puts two and two together as one inquires his name. He turns and nods to the inquirer. "Konstantin. Yours?" He keeps his introduction short, names are all he cares about in the case something goes wrong. He'd need to call them something. Their pasts are something he couldn't care at all about. He sticks his hand out for a handshake.

"Aleksander." He replied, taking Konstantin's hand and shaking it. "You a Stalker?"

Konstantin nods as he gives his firm handshake. He releases his new compatriot's hand. Looking Aleksander over he can tell just by the look that they are of a kind. "I am. You must be as well." He answers and shares his observations while still keeping his words short. He looks over to the second of their group and nods to him. "Konstantin. Your name?" He asks, while looking him over. Konstantin can tell this one is not a Stalker, but any hand is more than welcome in his views.

"Vlad Vladslav." Vlad beamed at the guy. Clearly these two were experienced Stalkers, so he would have to watch his actions carefully in the journey ahead. "It's good to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Vlad" Konstantin says with a sort of half smile. He turns to Aleksander once again. "It's also nice to meet a fellow Stalker." His smile fades as the introductions end. With nothing more to say, he feels as though this is a satisfying conclusion to their little meet and greet. Of course, that depends on how the other two feel. He doesn't mind listening to any more chatting here, but he feels they should move on. It's a long ride from here to Polis. He thinks.

Vlad turned to the merchant. "So when do we set off?" He asked in a genial way.

"Get some sleep, we'll leave in about nine hours," The merchant said, counting his bullets.
--
Aleksander, thankful that he'd been given a chance to rest, slept for a full eight hours and was currently sat next to the merchant by the bar, drinking some tea exported from Exhibition, and reading a book he'd found on the surface excursion. It was a rare find; some of the older officer's in Reich had said the book was banned before the war and Aleksander couldn't pass such an opportunity by. The merchant didn't speak to him, content to worry about the other two being late.

Vlad had only napped for four of the hours allocated, as it was still early in the day and he hadn't been awake for very long. For the rest of the time, he mostly wandered around the markets, haggling and bartering over prices of various things with no intention to actually buy them. When he could, he'd slip in a hint or two about the Red Line or Communist Ideals and the such. When he finally checked his watch, he saw he had just under twenty minutes to meet back up with the Merchant and he quickly hurried off to the bar area to do so.

Konstantin had gotten a very stiff sleep on a cot he had rented out. While he did sleep a fairly long while, more than he had in the past few days, it wasn't a sleep made of comfort. He rubs his neck and cracks it as he walks up to the bar where he had seen Aleksander, Vlad and their employer. He grabs a stool and waves off the bartender. He says nary a word and just takes a cigarette out of his pocket with one hand and lights it with his other. A satisfied look plasters itself on his face as he blows out the smoke.

Aleksander looked up from his book, placing a scrap of paper on the page he had reached and snapped it shut. The Merchant stood up, shouldered his bag and set off to the tunnel they'd be using, motioning for the group to follow.
Aleksander finished his tea and put the book in his bag and followed, fastening his helmet as he walked.

The cigarette hangs off of the side of his mouth. Smoke rises from the tip, and like his smoke, he rises as well.He slings his duffel bag across his shoulder once more and shambles off to follow the other two. As he walks, he begins cracking his wrists and then his fingers. This morning habit of his has made many people angry. To tell the truth, it's a good way to tell the patience of others.

Vlad arrived in the bar area in time to catch the group just as they were leaving. "Fashionably late. Not normal for me." He cracked as he fell in line with the group, hiking his pack further up his shoulder.

"Better late than never, ah?" Aleksander said cheerfully, "Next time we'll leave you behind." He wasn't joking either. During his time at Reich, if you were late while on the surface, you were assumed dead and left behind. It had happened to him once, and he'd made sure that he was always five minutes early from then on.

Konstantin, still mostly groggy from his sleep, lets the other two talk. Mornings have never come to him well and it usually take a fair bit of time for him to stop being drowsy. The cigarette still hanging from his mouth helps out only so far. The tip lights up and the filter shrinks back a tad bit and another bout of smoke leaves the other side of his mouth.

"If you left me behind, who would entertain you on the journey eh друг?" Vlad joked with the man, though he sensed the seriousness behind Aleksanders words.

"I'm sure the horrors in the tunnels would keep me plenty entertained," Aleksander replied, as they passed the first checkpoint at the edge of the station. He lit one of his own cigarettes, before jogging to the front of the group. "If I start running, keep up." He said to the group.

"That's pretty much a given, yes?" Konstantin mutters groggily as he stretches his arms out, allowing his muscles to wake up. They eventually fall back to his sides and his hands find their way back into the pockets of his overcoat.

"Hey look, the babushka is awake" Vlad laughed as they continued to walk.

A small smile cracks on Konstantin's face at the comment, "Awake enough, I suppose." He says with another puff of smoke following his words.