Roleplay part 9

Yes but the Rangers would not come after you because, like you said, only Benji and Melnikov know what happen to Steve.

Fatigue was finally setting over me. Yet still, I march over to one of the two sealed doors in the station. With all the energy I have remaining, I force the door open and step inside. My pupils are greeted by the sight of the rag-tag group of misfits I have been traveling with, one that I am growing a custom to. They were all gearing up, ready to leave. Using all the strength I can gather, I toss the duffle bag across the floor. It skids across the concrete until colliding with the tip of one of Melnikov's steel toed boots.

"Merry Christmas, Grigori." I say through faint lips.

This is all I am able to get out before basically collasping against the wall adjacent to the door, exhausted. I rest my head against the concrete and close my eyes, not caring to look at the group or the smoke filling the room. I lay limp for a few moments, my body numb. To the others, I could take the appearance of a corpse. Only thing stopping this are the violent coughs and weak groans of pain that pierce my lips. I did not want to move another inch. I do not think I can move another inch. I am tired. I am aching. I am sore. I am bleeding. I am thirsty. I am hungry. I am dressed like a fucking fascist. I am cold. I am choking. And I am not finished, for I still have to get Yuri.

 

Oh dear lord, Stalker.

 

I slung my Ak-47 back over my shoulder and headed down the tunnel towards what I thought to be the Service Room. As I walked down the tunnel I began to realise that the Rangers would probably not need me and force me to go back to Polis.

After finding the door that I believed led to the Service room I pushed the door open. I instantly grabbed my revolver and pointed it at the man sitting on the ground as if it was a reflex. "Wh-who-who are you? Are a nazi?" I questioned with my gun shaking in my hand slightly.

I'm not aligned with any group.

 

"A ranger i said taking off my helmet and slinging my rpd i could not get a good look at the man who had questioned me but i knew he had a gun in my face so are you i nazi i asked.Pulling the hammer back on my revolver but leaving it in its holster."

 

I put my gun back in it's holster and begin to walk closer to the man. "No. I'm not a Nazi I'm currently with a group of Rangers. They should be coming any minute now." I said while turning around to look at the doorway.

 

'Rangers my own kind good now take me to your leader i said while putting my helmet back on.Whats your name i asked."

 

My character is a member of GRU, an agency working for the Reds. Basically CIA of the Reds. However this particular mission isnt exactly sanctioned by the Reds, this mission is to save the Reds from themselves. Using strong cooperation with the Rangers.

By the time I pulled my face from my palms the group had already started to trickle out of the service room, another being our destination where we would wait for our missing to hopefully return. Deciding to try once again to walk I slowly stood up from the stoll and began to put weight on my right leg, taking metal note of it's performance as I went. It felt strenuous enough just standing on both legs but I knew I had to attempt to make progress. As the weight on my legs reached half my body weight my right leg suddenly buckled at the knee. I fell to the floor in shame.

For a moment I simply lay there, thinking. My mind and body betrayed me, telling me not to bother getting up. That it was pointless. That I was useless. I looked down at my left wrist to see the cuff and briefcase again. The cause of all my misery lay locked to my very flesh. I was to do everything in my power to ensure it's survival. Hmpf!, what power did I have now.

Inturupting my deep pondering I heard the voice of Grigori beside me. "Need help?" he whispered in a kind tone. Whatever shattered remnants of my pride where left itches me to refuse but my reason and heart knew this could not be done. After a long pause I silently grabbed ahold of Grigori's hand and flew to my feet once more, positioning myself to his left side. We wrapped hands around each others shoulder so he could take just enough weight off of my right leg to allow me to at least keep a reasonable pace when walking.

Just as we where about to leave a pair of rusty door screeched open from behind us. We turned around to investigate. A dark cloud bellowed from within the door and for a second nothing happened. Then a large duffle bag slip from it's depths in front of Grigori's feet letting off smoke as it cooled. "Merry Christmas, Grigori" a voice called. Then a figure burst out of the smoke who as the duffle bag let off a stream off smoke from his hot cloths. As the smoke cleared one could finally see that Fyodor was the smoky figure, who somewhat unexpectedly collapsed onto a nearby wall in a jelly like state.

Regardless of his recent entrance I yelled to him that we needed to leave the room immediately. The smoke from the vent had already filled the room to dangerous levels and now with the opening of the double doors the smoke poured into the room without mercy. I didn't look but I had expected that Grigori had already picked up his bag with his free hand. I myself held the cuffed briefcase in my own free hand, although it was an akward feeling not being able to tell if I was still holding the briefcase. I looked down every second to make sure I still gripped it.

 

Skaara, is Benji with all of us? if he is not, apologies from missing him in my mental roll call. again, Odessa is very much alive, but passed out. Odessa is not a ranger per se, but works closely with them, she's just a Stalker..

*after hours, or what seem like hours, of crawling through vents and encountering dead bodies after dead or dying bodies, we reached the meeting point, but it was rapidly filling with smoke. the guys were there, and the newcomer, all except for Steve. I briefly wondered what had happened to him before my survival instinct put me on alert once more. we needed to move and had no time to dwell on anything. my body ached like it had never done before. I was badly limping now and my head felt about to explode, but we had to go. just a little further I heard a familiar voice in my head beckoning me to move. at that moment Jet came to me and meaowed desperatly. she knew we had to go and that we had no time for greetings. with all the strenght I could gather, I moved out of the room and across to the service room we had started our journey from. there I just collapsed against a wall, taking notice of a stranger with a rangers uniform. we must seem like a strange apparition, right in the middle of the most secretive place in the metro. all torn and bloddied, our faces covered in soot from the smoke, and to top it all a mutant cat among them. it was then that I also realised Dark, his friend and Sako the dog were missing*

'you are a sight for sore eyes guys. glad to see you here' I said with as much energy I could find before collapsing to the side and loosing conciousness.

 

Benjamin isn't with the group, no. He's on his way to the service room through the vents with Odessa's gear in his arms.

It took me some time ro realize, through the thick smoke, that I had actually just struck the ventilation-shaft's wall so hard that a crack had appeared. Bad welding, apparently. In this case, though, I would call it Good welding. But the light was still not explainable. It was coming from outside the crack. And it was not just my imagination that had it growing stronger. It was actually growing stronger, and I could feel the whole ventilation shaft shaking more and more. A screaching and screaming noise was growing louder and louder. What in the name of the metro was happening?

Was my brain being so over-stimulated by the smoke that it was expanding and about to explode? That was what it felt like. Looking through the crack, I was blended by a large objective falling downwards in full speed, my ears almost felt like they were bleeding, and the shaft was vibrating so violently that I felt like I was hovering. When I got my sight back, and everything calmed down, I was barely able to make out that it was a ventilation shaft right before I heard what I presumed to be the elevator, hit the floor with a loud boom. I did not think much about the elevator, as I was very relieved that the smoke slowly poured out through the crack. I had a minute or two which felt like ten seconds of breathing through the crack, getting some "fresh" air between each chest-breaking cough.

This was just about enough to keep me going. I took one last deep breath from the crack before I kept moving. More smoke was still pouring in, but some of it was also flowing out. It was not increasing as rapidly as before. I was thinking that I was getting close to the service room. I was hoping so. But to no avail, the shaft just kept going and going, and it seemed that eternity had wrapped its evil claws around my whole body. I was beginning to hesitate wether the shaft was actually leading to a service room or not. I was just hoping that the group was still there, or at least that they had gotten out alive.

Eventually, my prayers of coughing and grasping for air, were heard. The dim lighting far into the distance was becoming visible. Every single move of a limb felt like the longest leap in my life, as if attempting to reach for the stars. As I was getting closer, the opening was growing larger and larger, and the light seemed more present than ever. I wanted to call for help, but my throat was burning, and for each breath, it felt as if the flesh in my throat was slowly and painfully being pulled and ripped to shreds. I could not take it anymore. It was killing me slowly. Once again, I lay down on my stomach. I wanted to breathe, because I needed Oxygen. I was being strangled. But at the same time, I did not want to breathe because each breath felt worse than downing a glass of strong alcohol.

In a desperate attempt to cry for help, I glided my hand over to my rifle and fumbled around, switching off the safety. It was pointing towards the end of the shaft. I knew that it was silenced, but they would most likely see the bullets fly into the wall never the less. I managed to find the trigger, and pulled it. It was difficult, but I did it. A burst of silenced shots flew through the vent and hit the floor in the Service room until the magazine was empty. No one checked it out. They were not there. They had gone. I thought about stretching for my revolver, but it was hopeless. Firstly, I did not have the strength to reach it and pull it out. Secondly, it was also silenced, and thirdly, they were all gone anyway.

I let my head drop down to the floor of the ventilation, coughing more and more. In anger of dying when finally being so close, I clenched my fists. My left one was empty, but my right one was holding Odessa's gear. And that was what saved my life. I remembered the flask. The flask that Odessa had promised me a slurp of. The flask that hopefully contained the right ingredients to permanently remove the remaining radioactivity in my lungs. It was probably helpful against the Toxin-smoke as well. With all my power, I reached into Odessa's backpack and searched through it blindly. I eventually managed to make out the shape of the bottle in my hand and pulled it out, hopefully without pulling other items out at the same time. I took out the drinking tube of the gas mask, opened the flask, and put it into it. I sucked in the contents, and I could immediately recognize the foul taste. The taste of life. I could immediately feel my throat being salved and taken care of by the drink. Then I screwed on the lid and put it back into the backpack and made sure nothing else had fallen out, closed the backpack and the drinking tube.

I could slowly, but surely, feel the strength in my body being regained. It was just what was needed to make me crawl on and roll out of the vent like a sack of grain. The roof was covered by the black smoke, and the smoke was slowly becoming thicker and thicker, slowly moving its way down. But it had not reached the floor yet. In triumph, in victory, in joy of being alive, I lifted my arm and ripped the gas mask off my face, not caring about the nails on the mask poking me as I did so. I began to inhale what seemed like the longest and deepest breath in my life. But as I breathed out, another cough occured. I sat up and eventually concluded that I needed more of the drink. I drank it all. I felt greedy, but upon saving Odessa's gear, this was the least she could sacrifice for my sake, I hoped. I sat there for a while to recover, changing the magazine in the rifle. My dreadlocks were almost black now.

Sorry for the very long post (Again). If I've gotten it right, you guys are now in the next Service room with Dimitri, right?

 

yeah, just across the tunnel. at the momennt Odessa is out for the count, so I'll wait to post until someone brings her back, somehow.

 

Not long after I entered, a voice told me we had to move. I did not want to, but I still had to get Yuri. Just this duty was enough to send me to my feet. Of course, the smoke filling the room helped a little, but mainly Yuri is the reason I attempt to gain my balance. My knees feel like poorly made rubber, wiggling and bouncing once I put pressure on them. It was a fight just to stand. I struggle at first, keeping my palm pressed against the wall, a safety in case I collapse. Before I know it I am wandering towards a light beckoning through the black mist that engulfs the service room. With what little energy I have remaining, I stagger over to the tunnel entrance, guided by the light. I clench my nails around the door frame and lunge myself into the tunnel. By this point, everyone else has already evacuated the death trap. This in mind, I turn and seal the door behind me, leaning my forehead against the metal when I hear the hiss of the airlock. I stay here in a time that my lungs must have reserved for hocking themselves up, because they did it so naturally. Once I gather my self I stumble down the tunnel and into the bathroom adjacent to the service room. Then I shut the door behind me.

A dim-light bulb burns from a wire hanging from the ceiling. A sink mirror combination sits against the left wall. An ancient toilet is installed at the back of the room, a metal bar screwed in next to it. That walk got my juices following. Once they've started, well I really couldn't stop them. The aches, pains, sores, all dissipated instantly. I found a new deposit of energy within myself. First order of business, strip myself of the fascist uniform. I did so in a heartbeat and tossed the uniform into a trash bin near the sink. Next, I examine the wounds I suffered in D-6. Just a few cuts and bruises. The major one being on my left hand. I bandage myself up fairly quickly. I get dressed in my usual gear; green faded combat pants, climbing harness, combat boots, only the right finger-less glove due to the bandages, black muscle shirt, shoulder hostler, and a blue kerchief around my neck. I slide into the grey bomber jacket, an old world Soviet military symbol is patched to the right shoulder. I hook the AKS-74u to the climbing harness. Dressed and geared, I step over to the sink and rest my elbows on the counter as I hunch over the drain. I rub my hands along the back of my neck, locking and stretching my fingers.

I glance up from the sink and to mirror for a second, where I see an unfamiliar figure. I had to do a double take, I did not recognize myself. Not because of the cracks and smears covering the glass, but because I actually look different. The skin beneath my shaven facial hair was darker, grimy. The two claw gashes that ran across my right cheek had healed and become indentations. Smoke and ash had settled on my forehead and the bridge of my nose. I look older, I look grizzled, I look rigid. I remove my canteen from my rucksack. I pour a good amount of my drinking water onto my face, removing most of the dirt and ash. I look back into the mirror. The five o'clock shadow stayed along with the indentations. I scoff from the corner of my mouth. I toss my rucksack over my shoulder and pick up the Mosin-Nagant, then I walk towards the door. I wiggle the knob and push it open, stepping out into the service room.

"Who's up for Mendeleevskaya?" I ask, shutting the door behind me. "Can only take one person."

I was not in the waiting mood, not while I still had energy to spare.

 

I pondered how I was going to answer Joe's question for a few moments. Fortunately for me, at that moment the door that led deeper into D6 popped open, releasing in a stream of smoke. I raised the AK suspiciously, just to have a large black duffel bag that I recognized come flying through and land on the floor at my feet.

Behind it were Fyodor, and Odessa, who both looked the worse for wear but very much alive. "Thanks, Fyodor." I said as I leaned down and picked the duffel bag up. Taking the weight as best I could off of Gena so that he could walk more easily, I followed Odessa out into the tunnel.

I heard Fyodor seal the pressure door behind us as I helped Gena along the tunnel towards the others service room. He was leaning on my left shoulder, since his right leg seemed to be giving him the most trouble. As I glanced up from supporting the weight of the man beside me and the bag full of weapons, I noticed that Anton was talking to someone inside the service room where we were headed. "What now?" I thought.

As the group began to file into the service room, I saw who it was Anton had been talking to, a man dressed in what could be called the standard Ranger uniform, though his helmet, which he took off and sat on, had a rather interesting design painted on it. He had black hair and he looked like he was younger than me, though the RPD light machine gun slung over his shoulder seemed to suggest otherwise. I almost unconciously stopped as soon as I saw him, dragging Gena to a halt with me.

I looked over the newcomer for a few moments, trying to pin down what was familiar about him, and then continued inside to get out of Fyodor's, the last in line, way. He walked past me and went into what looked like a restroom. "You are a sight for sore eyes guys. Glad to see you here." With those words, Odessa collapsed against the wall unconcious. I did not want to just leave Gena in the middle of the service room unsupported, so I walked him over to the wall next to Odessa and helped him to lean against, and then threw the newly reaquired duffel bag in the corner.

"She's okay. Looks like she just passed out." I announced after checking her pulse. "Sergei, or doctor, do one of you want to take a look at her, make sure she is alright?" I asked the two men, beforing turning back to the new newcomer, the ranger.

I could not quite figure out why he seemed familiar. Or what his possible intentions were. But Anton seemed to be relaxed around him, and I was too tired to try to start up a conversation. So, I waited until Fyodor came out of the bathroom again and announced he was going to Mendeleevskaya.

I glanced over at Gena. He probably was the most in need of getting to a station, though thinking about it the doctors there would probably not be able to do much more than treat his symptoms. "And thats only if he is not contagious." I thought to myself, shuddering at the possibility of the damage the toxin would do if released metro wide. "Are you going to get your brother?" I finally asked Fyodor.

 

Um he had his helmet on a full face ranger helmet

"I noticed a man eying me but not talking i put my helmet on the floor and sat down on it before saying names dimtri good to meet you guys."



also steve is not his real dad his real dad was a russian soldier steve found him half dead in the tunnels

 

I did not say that dmitri's face was familiar. And even if he is not by blood related, he probably picked up Steve's manerisms.

You did say he was shadowing the group, right?

Also, I would imagine everyone in the group is eyeing dmitri, since they do not know him.

 

yeah he did but he has a sould and he was ghosting them because he wanted to make sure they made it after all he is not heartless like steve

 

Sorry, but I've made the decision that LagTagBag is discluded from the roleplay. His character is either dead, captured, lost, or something like that, in D6. he's MIA. If you want to bring him back, LagTagBag, you will have to be a lot more active in the roleplay.

The coughing had stopped. At least temporarily, but I was hoping it would last permanently, and so I believed as well. I hooked the gas mask onto my backpack before I walked out into the hallway after pushing the door open, then closed it again. With the rifle in my hands, I walked down the silent tunnel slowly, all alone. As the service room behind me had filled with smoke, I expected them to have moved on, perhaps to the closest other service room to take a longer break. Following this trail of thought, and the trails on the ground, I approached the door to the next service room. Slowly, I opened the door and peaked in before I walked in through the entrance. Odessa and Fyodor were there, as I had expected, as I assumed that they were the ones who had blown the bombs. This was when I realized that Sergei was not there. Neither him, nor Dakrbringer, Wojcie, Sako or Steve. Despite how this would usually depress me, I was so relieved to actually see the group still keeping it together. I had been holding my rifle in a passive way through the tunnel, but upon entering the room, I let my arms drop down in a sloppy way, with the rifle in my right hand, the tip of the silencer leaning on the floor. I just stood there and looked at them in a tired and relieved way without saying anything.

 

Dimtri is with the group sitting on his helmet in the middle of the room