Last hope # metro last night fanfiction

This isn't exactly roleplay, but it might be a starter for a future plot as soon as I find a decent roleplayer who's willing to play Artyom.
Anyway, I wrote this inspired by some ideas I has about what happened to Pavel after Artyom left him.

Chapter 1


Pavel lay flat on the cold floor, breathing hard as though he had been running for hours. At first he just stood there, laying on his back, staring blankly at nothing. He placed his hand on his thigh where he could feel a burning sensation which he recognized as a bullet wound. He gazed down at his lap to inspect it, but got distracted when he noticed a bullet shaped lighter on his lap which looked oddly familiar. Pavel reached for it, blood on his hands which he wasn’t sure if it all belonged to the wound on his thigh or if it was even his, and placed the metallic lighter safe in his pocket. Then, with some effort, he sat up, one hand still on his thigh and the other reaching for his revolver; he lifted the gun with his shaky hand, pointing it around as though he expected to see something unusual there but soon he found out he was alone and the gun fell silent on the floor. Piercing down through his gasmask he finally took a closer look at his injury: he had seen worse, but it was still stinging. As soon as he tried to examine it more closely, a faint picture of Artyom came to his mind and he recalled the gun shooting between the two, which caused the injury. Then, as if someone had just stabbed him in the stomach, Pavel remembered a dark figure next to Artyom with big yellow eyes and hell. That had to be hell, what else could it be? The feeling was all too real to be a nightmare. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to forget the cold, a cold as he had never felt. He tried to erase the sensation left by the hands that held him and pulled him into the dark, drowning him in despair and fear and hopelessness as a thousand screams rang on his ears, calling his name, trying to swallow his very soul and take him to the shadows. And then, Artyom.

A cold sweat covered his whole body as he shivered violently and yet the air from his filters felt thick and warm. The constant burning pain from his thigh brought him back to reality, but it was hard to breathe, it was hard to think at all when all he could feel was fear. Soon enough he was hyperventilating again and with the little sanity he had left he resisted the urge to remove his mask and scream – he had to leave that place.

His overlarge leather jacket was stained with dust and blood and one of his legs dragged uselessly as he hauled himself to his feet.

“Bitch” he hissed, his nails digging into the fabric of his pants.

As he descended the stairs of the building, he gazed upon the bodies of his comrades lying peacefully on the floor, almost as if they were only taking a nap. It’d be hard for him to believe a single guy had taken them all down on his own but it was Artyom after all.

“Shit…He really took them all out” he whispered to himself, and there was something like pride and admiration on his tone.

As he said it, he heard a clinging sound coming from just around the corner. He recognized the metallic sound, a gun being prepared to shoot. Any other day, the major of the Red Line would’ve jumped behind the crates and surprise his opponent by tricking him and shooting him right on the back but at the moment, maybe because of the blood loss, or just because he didn’t care at all anymore, he stood there in the open of the corridor.

“Artyom?” Pavel asked expectantly, his voice weak. He was really feeling the blood loss now.

“M-major?” a familiar voice echoed from the room before he saw a friendly face peeking up at him along with a gun on trembling hands “Y-you’re alive!”

It was Vadim, their youngest recruit. Pavel smiled slightly at his comrade.

“Comrade Vadim! Good to know I’m not the only one left” the captain opened his arms to greet him but his hand quickly returned to his thigh “But please put that thing down”

The recruit smiled excitedly at his commander and then looked at his gun, almost surprised that he was still holding it and quickly lowered it, approaching him. Even know he was wearing a mask, Pavel could tell the kid was smiling, and most likely crying.

“Major, oh Major; it’s so good to see you. I thought you were… It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. And… you’re wounded!” he exclaimed when he finally noticed the big blood stain on the other’s uniform.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch” Pavel lied, limping forward into the open. He stopped and examined the place “It seems we are the only ones who made it, huh?”

Vadim took a while to answer and when Pavel looked back at him, the rookie had his hands over his mask peak and he was visibly sobbing.

“I’m only alive because I’m such a coward…When the ranger came I hid in that room” he admitted “I don’t deserve to be alive when all my comrades died valiantly…”

“Your comrades are dead because of me. I was the one who ordered them to fight” Pavel reached for his shoulder, where he placed his hand to give a light squeeze “They didn’t die valiantly, they died because they craved death… and death came upon them”

Confused by his own words, Pavel’s hand slid down Vadim’s arm and he nearly fell forward. With the help of his soldier, Pavel regained balance and with an arm around the other’s neck, they were able to cross the courtyard full of junk until they finally reached for the cross road that lead to their home station .

“So, this Artyom guy…” said Vadim after a long moment of silence “Do you think he’ll be able to stop the Red Line?”

Pavel didn’t reply, but he truly hoped so. Because now he truly understood that Artyom was Metro’s last hope.

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Hope you guys enjoyed it. Not sure if I should continue it.