My name is Siberian, I am a scavenger for Riga station, and this what its like living in the metro...
"My name is Siberian, I am a scavenger for my home station at Riga. My life is spent mostly wandering on the surface of the ruined city of Moscow, walking in and out of the crumbling husk of buildings, fighting and killing the abomination that litter the surface be it equine or not, everyday I am risking my life for the sake of a few bullets and some rotten cans of food, but its my life and I make do...
“My name is Siberian. I live, like many others, in Riga Station but unlike many others, I am one of the very few scavengers that dare walk the hell that we once called earth. I am alone almost every time, there are few who have the courage to leave the safety of the metro, but I am the only one in Riga, strange I know but that’s the way it’s been ever since Captain Anton and his team were killed off by a group of demons. After the smoke cleared I was one of the last seven at the station, in the months following, those seven turned to six, shortly after it became four, then three, finally only one.”
“It has been two years since Artyom had destroyed D6 and both the Red and Ranger armies. There are legends that say Artyom never died and can be seen wandering the obliterated mass of the bunker, others say you can find the ghosts of all the men who died in the explosion reliving their final moments. I say it’s all bullshit.”
“I have to go soon, there is a huge storm coming through, and we don’t know how long it will last, so I am going up to collect anything I can, I pray it won’t be my last…”
the sound of the metallic beats drew my attention away from my writing as I looked up from my type writer and to the door. “Yes, who is it...and what the hell do want?” I snapped.
“Uh, sorry do disturb you Siberian, but our scouts are saying the storm is coming faster than we thought, so I was just coming to make sure…” The nervous voice of one of Arkady’s scouts replied through the tin sheet I used for a door.
“трахнуть меня” I muttered “ Give me a damn moment I asked, but no, Arkady has to send of his…" I sighed "You out there, go tell the smith to get my gear ready, I will out in a minute” I rubbed my temples with the tip of my hooves.
“Y-yes sir” I waited until I could no longer hear is echoing hoofsteps among the loud chatter of the overcrowded station.
I leaned back in my chair and heaved a slow sigh, going outside was never as thrilling as it was made out to be, it’s a hell hole, a ash covered planet with radiation pooling every were you go, but somepony has to do it, at that unlucky son-of-a-bitch is me.
After a few more curses under my breath, I stood to all fours and pulled out the paper in the type writer, looked it over, then tucked it into a small box that I keep stored under my bed. I took the type writer and set it under the desk, now I was able to reach the small compartment that I carved out of the desk myself. Inside was my revolver, old and covered in grime, it had saved my ass more times than I would like to admit, nor remember. Other than the revolver there was a handy little trench knife I had found a year or two ago in what is left of D6, the damn thing looked older than the metro itself, but with a little care it was a reliable tool. I closed the compartment, and collected my journal and its complimentary lighter that always remain in a drawer to the bottom left of my desk.
I reached over and opened my cabinet that was set so tightly inside of my ‘room’ and pulled out my holster, saddle bags, and coat. I put the holster to my chest and slipped the gun into it along with my knife in its sheath that was tied to the bottom of the holster, then my bags over my back and the coat over the rest of my body.
After a last minute sweep over my room to make sure I was not forgetting anything, I pushed aside my door and slid it back into place before making my way through the station. I had gotten lucky with my room, the pony before me had gotten killed when he wandered to far from his post all alone and was dragged out into the tunnel by a swarm of lurkers and I came just in time to get it.
“Good luck out there, scavenger” Many of the stations inhabitants would tell me as I walked by, in return I would nod with a sly smile, or even go as far to say “thank you”. Many amateurs eat this up but after a little while it gets repetitive, if you live long enough for it to become repetitive that is…
On my travel to the smithy, I crossed over Black Street and took a quick glance at all the ponies literally stacked on top of one another in little slide outs they call home. I shook my head and moved on. Eventually the smithy was in sight, but before I could cross over to it, I was stopped by a light brown pony.
“Ah you must be Siberian, yea?” The moderately aged unicorn stallion looked at me with a wavering smile, I hated him already.
“Yes, what do you want” I looked down at him without moving my head, I was actually fairly tall I stood at 4’9, the stranger only at the average 4’4.
“Ah a stallion who is strait to the point, I like that” He snickered.
“What the hell do you want?” I drove the point home.
“You are a hard pony to impress, fine, if you get the chance I would like you to find some items for me if you can” He hoofed over a short list with about six items scribbled on it. “I’m making my way to the Armory, and the items I need are no were to be found here”
I looked at the list, the merchant wanted guns parts, used filters, gas masks, ammunition, bullet casings, and clothing. “What do plan on doing with all that?” I asked.
“Sell it at the markets in the Armory, if you can bring me at least something from that list, I will pay you very well for your trouble, and if all goes well I might be able to get the traders moving again" He reached out a hoof “An honest merchant’s word!” I looked at him with a bleak expression.
“I’ll see what I can do, I will be back in a hour or less, I will look for you at the bar, if you’re not there I’m selling what I found to somepony else who needs it, like the many starving and poor souls who live back there” I tossed my head to the side back towards The Black Road to underline my point in bold.
“I understand you fully, thank you so much and happy hunting!” He took my hoof and shook it with a wide smile before he ran off deeper into the station.
“Черт купец” I said a little louder than I should have.
I at last rushed my flank to the smithy were the large burly pony Vadim stood looking over his weapons, he smiled through is thick curly beard when I came up to his counter. “привет Siberian, I have your gear ready”
“Thank you, Vadim” I sighed leaning over the counter.
“one of the scouts came running here to tell me that you were coming, you must have done a number on him, he could hardly get the words out of his mouth” He had is back to me when he said this, but turned back around and set the familiar bastard gun before me and ammunition in suit.
“80 rounds is all I can spare, how is your revolver?” He asked
“37, but I will be fine for now, save it for the others”
“You’re a good stallion, my friend” I nodded and took the complement with a smile, I had always liked Vadim, despite is looks he was a good hearted and gentle being, without him I would probably would have bled to death…but that's a story for another time.
I took the gun and slung it over my neck so it was strapped tightly to my back over the coat “When will the new shipment arrive, this is the third one I've gone through this month” I asked
“There has been some damn rumor floating around saying that the tunnels around here are flooded with nosalis and lurkers, they say the overcrowding is drawing them near, it’s all bullshit the Hanza are stirring up, worst part is some of the ponies here are starting to believe it after...after the...seventh barrier was attacked” He sighed before giving me a gas mask and roughly 30-40 minutes worth of filters.
I placed the mask on top of my head to where I could rapidly slide it over my face as it was designed to do. After I gathered my filters into my bag, I started off to leave the station, but I stopped when Vadmin called me back to him.
“Siberian, if you find anything…weapon parts, or supplies it will help us greatly here until we can solve the little ‘problem’ and get the caravans moving again” He looked at me with thatt look lingering his eyes. “If you bring the right parts I could maybe make you that AK or fashion you some modifications for your other weapons” He said leaning over the wood counter.
“I won’t be on the surface for that long Vadim...” His smile wavered and died like a rat with a needle in it's heart “…But I’ll bring you what I can find” The look on his face meant more than a thousand words to me.
I walked away from the smithy and wondered through the crowds, passed the market stalls and empty vendor stations, and under the bar that always had a patron or two still lingering for a drink. By then I was close to the stations exit, but before I could make the last turn, a pitiful sight caught my eye...
There was a younger looking mare leaning against the wall and in her hooves was a even younger foal, both of them covered in dirt grim, and stains from who knows what. They were thin and bony, the mares cheeks were sunken in like creators and the foal...I dared not to look.
When I came next to them, I stopped and set down five military grade ammunitions I keep with me in my bags, she looked at me with a face full of shock and tears building in the edges of her eyes, we said not a word to one another, even when I walked away, she was speechless.
After all that I finally had made my way to the great iron doors that shielded the station’s residence from the outside wasteland. I turned to one of the guard ponies who sat against the makeshift barricade who was running his knife against the floor out of boredom
He was a unicorn, but after the nuclear attacks that had transpired over 20 years ago completely obliterated not only the surface, but magic as well turning unicorns into simple working ponies, pegasi into useless large birds, and earth ponies into mules…as they always have been.
“What did the scouts say the area was like?” I asked, he paused is bored scratching and looked up to me with dim yellow eyes, I knew the stallion, his name was Matvei and we’re old drinking comrades.
“Like shit” That’s what he said every time I asked him…same answer, same question.
I chuckled and shook my head “Open ‘er up, let’s get this over with as soon as possible” I told the watch ponies.
“Ready posts!” The commander shouted “Open it up, and make it fast!”
The sound of metal on metal filled the surrounding room and pinched my ears, I covered my eyes as the door slowly swung open letting in the wind and light flood the room.
“Good luck out there, scavenger!” I heard as I slipped my mask on and looked at my watch.
5:37
“If I am not back by 6:30 assume the worst, and don’t come for me!” I think the commander said something at the moment but I did not hear, nor care enough to listen.
I walked into the light I could barely hear the door close behind me over the wind as I made the slow assent to the surface, the frosty gales burning any exposed fur. I carefully walked up the run down and snow blown escalator, watching my breaths fog up the mask but vaporize as the fresh air filtered into it.
Eventually the escalator stopped and I came to be surrounded by the ruins of the old station that at some point was a tall and mighty place, but now only an echo of its divine glory. As the wind started to howl and whistle through the cracks, windows, and tears in the building, I felt nostalgic. I wondered over to the stations reception and looked into the room beyond the shattered grates and windows, I sighed to myself.
I was checking to see if maybe… just maybe… there would be a young mare to great me asking me where I would be going and If such a thing would happen, I would look right into her the eyes and say ‘home’. I have a hard time remembering home, were I lived, the street it was on, or what I did before all this…all I know now is that Riga is my home and many lives are in my hooves.
I shook my head and left the reception area and walked over the crumbled bits of concrete and skeletal remains, the bones more so than the boulder sized slabs of rock. I had always believed that the unburied bodies of those who passed served as anchors to their spirits. Many called my idea absurd, but that is what o believe in and that is what i stand by. I walked on passed the remains, not wanting to step on them as I finally came to a stop in front of the doorway of the metro and looked at the world that we once called ours.
Ash and snow blew into my mask and the wind toyed with my coat as I stood looking out into the barren tundra like wasteland. Massive cracks broke the roads into miniature canyons, some buildings would be leaning on one another like wounded soldiers, others were just simply massive piles of rubble marking the spots were they once stood. Black skinned trees mangled the ground with roots thicker than a man’s arm that seeped deep into the upturned sediment that I could hardly call earth.
The sky was filled curling and wrenching clouds that moved rapidly over the grey burned sky, and farther to the east was the dreaded storm that fired bolts of light at the ground as if was purging the forsaken earth.
This is what my world…our world is now, and if there is or ever was a god…I don’t think he will give us another chance…
I wish I could have lifted my mask and take in a breath of the surface air, but alas to do something as foolish as that, would be fatal.
The harsh winds from the storm caused me a great deal of discomfort, fueling the urge to finish this as soon as I possibly could. I jumped the few steps of the station onto the snow covered pavement and took my normal path from the station. I would walk to right of the station and follow the road until it ended at a large blockade of a fallen building and make a left.
After the second turn it was fair hike to an old square were many pre-war stores and homes were built, it was a gold mind for the metros scavengers and there was only a few groups who knew of this place.
The only problem was it was at minimum a half-hour to get there, another to get back. All though, five minutes down there was a split in the road, and another area I had not bothered to look yet and for good reason. I took a glance at the storm, I could return with nothing, risk freezing to death, or risk the chance of running into any roaming savages or worse.
I being who I am decided to pick the ladder and make the detour down the less beaten path, so I kept my gun close. I quickened my pace as I trotted down the road with the building looming down at me and every window holding a gun-pony with his rifle locked onto my head.
In my traveling I would stop and take a peek into any of the burned, frozen husks of the carriages and rotten caravan carts. I managed to pull maybe a few tattered sheets of fabric or the skeletal remains of a soul long forgotten.
This time around I was approaching what looked like a more finite looking carriage tipped onto its side with its belly facing my direction with bits of wood scattered about. I took the bastard gun into an aggressive position and approached gingerly. I took a 720 around the wreckage, scanning it as well as the surrounding area.
Hoof prints, fresh that came from farther up the road and were all over the place when they came closer to the carriage, and then continued into the building directly to my right, the left side of the road I came up on. At the same time, there were tracks from something far, far different than any pony I’ve ever heard of. I looked back up the small flight of stairs to the busted down door of the ruins. There were no tracks of normal pony kind leading out of the building. Only blood.
I dug around in the snow and to confirm my suspicions, bullet casings could be found rather easily. I collected as many as I deemed necessary before putting my thoughts to the overturned carriage.
I set down the submachine gun, and clambered my way on top of the wreck. I sat down for a moment and looked up at the building, all the windows were broken and black, no living thing made itself present, but I kept my guard up.
I could start feeling a tight feeling in my lungs as my breath condensed onto the mask. I whipped out my revolver and a new filter, I unraveled the old one and tucked it away as I screwed in the fresh one before tooking in a deep, slow inhale. As I was doing this I craned my neck to see what lay inside of the carriage with my revolver aiming into the wreckage as well.
In the poor lit interior, I could see what looked like a mummified family of ponies, there skins only coated in snow and skin like tanned leather. There was nothing of interest only more signs to give me a deep sinking feeling in my stomach. What looked to be the son of the three corpses was very recently dined upon.
I was about to jump back down to the road, but I was halted when a howl of some beast pierced the cold winds, I stopped dead cold. Through my mask, I could see the black deformed nosalis running along the roof tops, at least 6 were barreling to him.
“Oh fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck” I heaved of carriage and scoped up the bastard before making my charge into the open building.
The only light came from the rapidly dispersing sunlight that shone into the darken hall over his body. I reached into my coat and flicked on my flashlight from my belt, and stormed up the stairwell. In the few moments I had to observe the walls, bullet holes and blood stains were everywhere I looked.
My thought was that I was going to die like a fucking animal in here, scratching the walls as I try to claw away from the nosalis ripping my limbs apart.
“Fuck this shit!” I shouted as I clamored over the last few steps to the third floor and saw one of the doors were open.
I knew before hoof, the scavengers had done the same before me and died in there but I had little to no options in this situation. I tool a leap into room and pushed myself onto the wall, left of the door way, and held the bastard with my one hoof being used as a stand.
I could hear the snarling and grotesque noises the beast made from outside the shattered window, but my focus was the stairwell. My heart was beating fiercely my throat; my breaths were deep and ferocious; my fight response was flaring in my veins.
I had my hoof wrapped tightly to the weapons grip as the mutants came closer and closer. Dust, snow, and ash came drifting down over his mask, but I dare not move to wipe it away. They made it to my building, searching for a scent, my scent.
To this day I never knew what it was, the storm, other ponies, or something far greater than the mutants, one of the creatures made a high pitched whine and to a great relief they scattered and there screeching died in the wind.
The snow piled through the window as I remained still, locked in fear. I finally let myself exhale and lower my weapon, my legs still shaking. No matter who you are, when something comes and crosses over you like that, it’s damn terrifying.
In my peace I was just finally given the chance to sit down and examine the room and when I did, wish I hadn't. The bloody and mauled bits of the scavengers stained the walls, and there limbs scattered about, there is times were I’m thankfully for the mask.
“Oh sweet mother…” I did not move at first, the mere thought on how close I was to becoming that was not a new feeling, but it still made me nauseated. Using the bastard gun as a crutch, I pulled sorry flank from the floor and with a twitch, scavenged for any useful items.
I used my gun to poke around and only then and there would I reach into the mess to gather the scraps and junk. I managed to remove the mask of one of the two, gather a half-a-dozen filters, more spent casings, some military cartages. Something that struck me as odd was that there weapons were nowhere to be found, nor ammunition.
In my continued searching, a thought came thundering into my head and that was what time it was. I stopped and pulled up my hoof to look at the watch on my wrist.
6:17
“Вот дерьмо” I muttered, I left whatever was not already packed into my bags and coat and took my leave but as I turned to the doorway, my reality paused for a moment.
Not all of the mutants had left, one still remained and it was already lunging out from the hallway with its jaws open wide. In the moment were time was at a standstill, I had the moment to think and react. I let my weight force my body to drop underneath the creature as it flew over my head.
I flipped around on my haunches and blasted the damned thing with the machine gun, but my rapid movement and unsteady grip made the spray near ineffective. I made the move to grip the gun with my free for-hoof only to pounce upon.
I heaved as hard as I could, trying more or less, to keep its teeth from tearing open my neck. Its spit covered my mask making the situation worse. My adrenaline was flowing through my blood like electricity, giving my muscles the extra boost and with one great feat of will, I used my hind-legs to thrust the nosali of my body and through the window.
I wasted no time and bolted to the opening and fired down at the creature from the vantage point until the gun jammed in near the end of the clip. From the amount of blood that stained the falling snow, It was safe to conclude it was dead.
Through my panting, I chuckled in relief. “That’s what you facking get you sorry piece of ass!” I yelled to its corps. I was flopped to the window still and chuckled once more.
I dragged my body away from the window and rather slowly made my way to the door frame were I took another pause, and from the corner of my eye saw a broken AK down the hall. Still out of breath I ran a hand along the wall as I walked to go and collect the find only to stop at the sight of yet another pony curled up against the wall.
I scooped up the rifle and looked down to the blood stained body.
“Better you than me, eh?” I said gaining the control over my breathing.
I made sure my haul was together and secure, and then continued down the stairwell back to the outside waste. The nosalis was still sprawled out in the snow, its flesh dotted with bullet holes. The gust of wind that terribly burned my skin forced my legs to move and sludge back to the metro.
The snow came flying in sideways, with pieces of ice and debris pelting my body. As I turned and made the final stretch, the snow was piled past my knees making my muscles and skin burn. Even when the traveling was horrible, the silence of the snow coming in and the wind blowing past me as I walked through the ruins of this great city, I found it calmed my nerves.
The way it looked, how what little nature was around, carved itself into the roads, carriages, or anything for that matter all being buried under the white powdered snow. It made me feel like the world was burying the dead city, the dead ponies, and itself.
The how entirety of this place being set to rest, but in the catacombs of the metro, there will be no rest and no burials. Just a constant kill and be killed survival and even though we had nearly ended ourselves, we still turn and fight each other. I guess it’s in are nature, the urge to survive at the cost of anything that gets in the way.
The storm was in full force narrowing my visibility to a near white-out, but this I have been down this road countless times, and off a gut feeling I turned to my left and I luckily stumbled over the stairway of the metro station.
I scampered my way up the steps and with relief, through the entrance. I paused for a just a moment to let the burning in my thighs quell to a comforting ache.
I fumbled through the main hall, and quickly thundered my way down the escalator to find the door of Riga station open to me as I ran in. No pony spoke to me until the door was shut and sealed up behind me, due to the fact I would not hear them through the grinding metal, wind, and masks.
With a loud slam, the great iron door shut and the guards removed there gas masks, as well as I.
“Right on time!” The watch captain patted my shoulder with a shallow grin “You are every time!” he scoffed.
“Shut up” I responded as I pulled my watch up to my face.
