Moscow, Russia. 2012 In the year proclaimed to be the beginning of the end for the human race, the seeds that had been planted more than fifty years ago took root and bloomed into weeds that blanketed the world. Humanity, for all it's progress, was unable to ignore the destruction brought on by the most unholy weapon that they were able to create. Nuclear Warheads. It is unknown who fired the first missile; some say it was us, others: the Americans. Who started world distruction is not important, no more important than which ape first slapped another ape. It does not matter because that was another world, a life that is far gone. As the world was destroyed by nuclear explosions and the very air tainted to the point where we could no longer breath, a small number of us escaped into the metros and subways under our cities. That was when our world become much, much smaller. Metro, Moscow 2032 Twenty hard, cold years passed. Our Metro has become a much harsher place. Our home is divided, between the Reds and the Fourth Reich in our tunnels, and the monsters in the choking winter above. The Metro is what can be easily called Hell, and we must fight for every breath we take. For those who are born and know nothing but the Metro, I pity you, and my heart goes out to you through these final words of mine. If, by some cruel twist of fate, those who find this live to see grass growing and trees blooming on the surface, then take this note as a message from the past. And finally, you will only waste time if you are looking for items on my corpse. My final Military Grade Round is in my gun, though it will not be for long.