Dorogoi Dlinnoyu (Metro 2033 roleplay) - IC

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Vesper, Jun 6, 2013.

  1. Show Spoiler
    One month later, tomorrow.

    Makar Lazarich Nastarov didn't rush. One, it was doable, but hard to run in all of his equipment, and two, he didn't want to seem too eager to leave. He liked Belorusskaya, it always kept him busy with its livestock falling ill every single day. But now it was the time for a change; also, some people could get mad for noticing he killed a pig or two on purpose and stole the meat for his personal provisions. But that wasn't important - he just did what he had to, didn't he?

    When he reached the spot that Dimitri - the head of Managers - told him and the four other people to visit before leaving, he looked around. With his gas mask off, his grey eyes scanned his surroundings, but there was nothing out of ordinary. Someone was getting his spleen kicked out of his body a few meters ahead; a prostitute waved to Makar and he waved back to her (what a lovely lady, nearly no scabs on her face); a huge man stood right next to him..

    Nastarov fought the need to jump away. Dimitri, seeing that, snickered, but that wasn't a nice sound at all.

    "Feelin' a little jumpy, Nastarov? Shittin' your pants already, Swine Doctor?" he mocked, crossing his arms on his wide chest. Although he wasn't fat - hardly anyone was these days - his figure reminded Makar of a bear.

    "The term is 'veterinarian'" he responded calmly, putting his backpack down on the ground.

    "'The term is veterinarian''" repeated Dimitri and spat on the ground. "You're lucky Oleg didn't kill you for what you did a week ago."

    "I DID help him" protested Makar and Dimitri snickered once more.

    "Da. It was the slap on his butt cheek that fucked with him. Have you seen anyone else?"


    "Blyat! Fine, we'll wait. I'm not goin' to repeat everythin' to every single person that decides to bring his ass here."

    Makar didn't respond. As he saw it, talking with Dimitri was unnecessary - Manager always tried to make fun of people, simply because he could. Killing him, eh!, even hitting his jaw was pretty much impossible, well, at least when you didn't want to have whole Belorusskaya trying to murder your ass. The man sat on his backpack and tapped his fingers against his knee.

    "Once upon a time there was a tavern.."

    Nastarov hid his face in his hands. Now he was singing. Another reason to get out of that station as soon as possible..
    #1 Vesper, Jun 6, 2013
    Last edited: Jun 6, 2013
  2. The sounds and somewhat putrid smells of Bellorusskaya surrounded Miomichi Coarizake, making her feel just ever so slightly homesick already. Her entire life of hell was spent in this underground metro station, which was what made leaving it so much more thrillingly terrifying. As her mind trailed off to thoughts of what may lay outside of the station, a slight grin touched Mio's face and she quickened her slow pace to match the slight adrenaline rush she was getting. It was hard for her to focus on anything but leaving, her mind whirling around the entire idea, I could so easily get lost or killed I guess, then there is the fact that I can leave a place filled with tortured memories of her father.

    This seemed a lot easier when she was still asleep, everything seemed easier when she was dreaming. Though her dreams were nightmares to most people, she still reveled in the fact that she could dream. Maybe you should just stop and run home, Mio frowned at the familiar and velvety smooth male voice, no sense in running off to get yourself killed when you could do it at home. This annoying voice had constantly come back after her mother died, Mio believed it to be a way to cope with her mother's death and the torment and pure torture her father put her through. But, even after he had died the voice remained.

    So, just like most times, she disagreed with this voice, "I have no intention of staying here any longer, if you want to, then be my guest and leave me alone."

    A simple snicker came from it, if that were all it took to get rid of me, then you would have been completely alone long ago.

    Ignoring the moronically insightful voice, she continued at her brisk pace to her destination. When she arrived, she saw a sight that somewhat creeped her out: a large man singing, something that just might haunt her mind, even more so when she noticed it was Dimitri. Mio hardly knew him, but for the little bit she did know Dimitri, she was not surprised he was attempting to sing, and failing. She shivered somewhat then noticed the man with his face in his hands. Trying her damnedest to ignore the irritating singing, she walked over to the man and gave a somewhat forced smile, "I see you're not a fan of Dimitri's vocals either."

    (ooc: I use color to seperate Mio and her thoughts from the voice in her head: Mio and Voice. Just so we all know, I generally love long paragraphs and incorrect compound sentences.)
  3. It had seemed to appear out of a shadow. Goggles had been waiting for most of the night. It tended to do that. No one knew why or how. It moved almost robotically around the area. It occasionally glanced at Dimitri and shook its head continuing to walk.

    "There are more coming yes?" The synthetic voice rang out of the mask as it stared at Dimitri, even in broad day light the goggle lights were blinding. It dimmed them down after shaking its head.

    Goggles began to think. But then again, it did that a lot. However, what it was thinking was a mystery. As was it's whole life. Some had said it was apart of the station, a guardian who protects it from evil. Others say it was the first down here. Goggles had liked starting gossip and rumors about itself. It gave it something to do. Most of the people knew Goggles was here long before they were.
  4. Out of one of the darker tunnels came an old man. After entering the dimly lit room, he squinted for a moment, either because his eyes needed to adjust to the sudden increase in light or some of the smoke from his cigarette got into his eye. After a brief moment of studying all the people gathered, he gave them a toothless smile and spoke in a raspy voice.

    "Priviet Dimitri! Priviet the rest of you."

    Tvardovsky approached Dimitri and shook his hand, gripping it strongly.

    "Quite a nice circus you got yerself here Dimitri"

    After a short, coarse snicker Mikhail pointed at both Goggles and Miomichi.

    "Blyat! A fucking squint-eye and a Robocop. How am I supposed to trust these people? They will get my ass torn to shreds before we reach Hansa!"

    After dragging on his cigarette, the old man puts his backpack down and sits on a rusty pipe, smiling like he is having the time of his life. Misha always loved calling people names only to enjoy their many reactions. It was a good way of getting to know what can you expect from your future companions.
  5. "Well, we don't know where he came from. We were on the surface as part of our retrieval for information, and we saw him wandering around. He seemed pretty normal, so we asked him to come with us. And now he's in containment, for further questioning, he said he was good with metals and farming, so maybe we can utilize him to salvage things for us. After all, the radiation seemed to have no effect on him, and he claims to know the surface pretty well."

    Trevor sat on the hard, iron bench in the holding cell of one of the underground metropolitan's containment blocks. He wasn't quite sure why he was there, or if he'd even get out. With a sigh exuding his lungs in a slow, calm manner, he leaned back against the ivory painted bricks of the wall, where he'd recline his head and blink due to the small refraction of light overhead.

    It shone the outline of his tired eyes, as well as the deep hue of some chocolate color that clouded the abyssal pupils therein. Rolling his shoulders counter-clockwise, he looked to the two guards, or assumably; and stood from the bench. Walking over towards the bars, he leaned into them, grappling two simultaneously before calling out,

    "Have either of you got any medication for a headache? My head, is killing me. I've run out of ginger quite some time back."

    One could easily assume that Trevor La'Gatzi was quite an articulate fellow, and he often knew how to take care of people with a simple remedy having to do with food. He was no doctor, but he was wise, often with the ability to deliver advice as to how to alleviate some pain, or even when one had fallen ill.

    Closing his lids, he pressed his forehead into the bars and gripped them tighter, making a secondary inquisition.

    "Please, anyone. I need to rid of this headache."

    "I don't care, shut the fuck up and stay in there, you'll get your medicine when we know you're not hostile."

    "But I'm entirely harmless."

    "Then what are the blood stains?"

    "I don't know... I blacked out, and when I came to, I noticed my hands were covered in blood."


    The guard replied, laughing.

    "Like we haven't heard that one before."

    "Please, just... get me out of here."

    The guard seemed uneasy at this point, and was getting tired of Trevor's begging, that much was obvious. Getting from his seat, he walked to Trevor's cell, and brought his baton up to level with Trevor's face. Those dark brown eyes were unveiled through crescents of flesh films, where he inhaled slowly and furled his brows even further. He didn't say anything to the guard, even after he proceeded to press the tip of the baton into Trevor's forehead.

    "I run this, not you. Like I said, you'll be out of here when we know for sure that you're not a murdurer, or something."

    Slowly, the tall male brought his hands from the bars and pressed his palms to his eyes. The convulsions of this headache were only getting worse, and the pain was almost astounding. Feeling his shoulders tighten, he began to breathe heavily and muttered something under his breath. It sounded something like, "Let... me... out." the guard held his ground, and started smacking the iron with his baton.

    This was only making the convulsions worse, almost as if the guard had been following some sort of rhythm with each pulse of excruciating pain that only seemed to spread through Trevor's skull. He could feel pressure in his eyes, sensitivity in his teeth, his skin began to feel like it was on fire. However, the guard still didn't seem to care.

    "Sit down, I'll go try to s-..."


    The guard had been interrupted.

    "Excuse me?"

    "Station said silence, you fat pig!"

    And at that point, Trevor had walked to the bars where the guard stood and reached out.

    "Station want your keys. George give Station keys!"

    And with an extremely hard tug, after having managed to secure the guard's collar, he pulled the guard into the bars, causing the bridge of his nose to smash, followed by his cries of pain. He began to beat Trevor's arm with his baton, but this was to no avail. The other guards watched in horror, and one of them ran over, managing to get a controlled surge of electricity to run through the psychopath's muscles.

    This was also unsuccessful, as Station then reached his left hand out and grappled the guard's head, or what of it he could, and yelled something that was almost incomprehensible.

    "You want shock Station? Station show George Station no like shock!"

    And pulled the guard's head into the bars again, and again, and again, and again... and again.

    And no matter how much the other guards tried their best to pull the monster off of their colleague, they had been entirely unsuccessful. One of them had enough, and pulled a gun on Station, who had already managed to snatch the dead guard's key and unlock the cell. They hadn't noticed it, given that they were paying attention to this man having his face split open.

    Stepping out of the cell, Station looked to the gun in the man's hand and slowly walked over, a grin on his face. The man was reluctant to pull the trigger, but too shaken up to actually do it.

    "S-stay right there! I d-don't want to shoot you!"

    "Then Station shoot himself."

    The psychopath grabbed the wrist of the hand that was securing the gun before twisting it every which way, causing the bones and joints to sever in such a violent fashion, where Station suddenly stepped forward, headbutting the guard, and snatching the gun from his hand.

    "Station no like guns, but he like when they go bang bang!"

    And the guards instantly knew the onslaught that was to come.

    Just as any witnesses would have suspected, the psychopath had utilized the weapon on both the guards, wasting the clip on these two men before tossing the gun elsewhere and walking out of the holding chambers. Covered in more blood, Station sat down somewhere quiet, with his legs crossed and against one another before staring at the row of shops across from him, where he began to rock back and forth.