I do not own any part of the setting of or characters from Metro 2033. Those rights belong to their respective creators.
"But to this day I wonder: When we burned the Dark Ones from the face of the earth, was something lost as well...?"- Artyom's last thoughts on the destruction of the Dark Ones.
"If I have to to walk down there one more time, I will be personally disciplining you, damned be the consequences!" The portly overseer slammed the radio down onto his desk, one of the few commodities inside the metro. As he takes a sigh to compose himself, I wonder how many bullets he spent on the slim reminder of an age that died long ago. The man looks me in the eye, then gives me a curt nod before handing over a rusted key that may have been a baby in his expansive palm. "Just tell the guard by the gate where you are headed. He'll help out."
"Thank you," I reply, gently cupping the key and allowing it to slide into a pocket on my vest. I march down toward the gate, gazing around the cramped environment that is Lone station. Most of the metal present is rusting, slowly drifting to pieces from disuse. On some walkways, there is just enough space for two men to pass by each other. The hospital in on the corner is overflowing with patients; the doctors refuse to let new cases in and put the least injured outside to wait while they deal with those afflicted with disease or severely mauled. Passing by the crowd trying their best to appear calm, a mother runs up to me, a small baby held in her hands, wrapped in a wool blanket that barely covers the child.
"Thirty five bullets, that's all I'm asking for sir," she pleads with me, 'I have other children that need food I can't pay for, medicine I don't have." I lower one hand into my pocket, grasp one of her open hands, and place twenty-five military grade 5.45×39mm rounds.
"Keep your child. We have already slaughtered enough infants in that stupid war," I growl at her. It's disgusting to see a mother willing to sell her own child, and I take no pity on someone willing to stoop to those low paths. She scampers away from me, having little grip on the child, but seems to be gripping the ammo like she had given birth to it. I'm not surprised she chose to not extort me for more: rangers have a reputation around them for taking little crap from others. 'Whatever', I decide mentally, 'let the rat have its rotten meal.' I continue on, doing my best to ignore the furious shouts of "skank"and "bitch" as well as the moans of pleasure coming from within the bar towards my right. However, when there are that many saying the same phrase or groaning a similar sound, well… eventually, someone will hear it, even through a thick metal helmet. I stop by the armory, little more than a repurposed toll station, to grab the last few supplies I will need then approach the gate.
"The fukkin hell yoush want, ranga?" The man is so clearly inebriated, I want to beat him for not taking his occupation seriously.
"Open the gate," I deadpan, tossing the key to that pathetic excuse of a guard. He fumbles, dropping the key, which inspires another wave of swearing from the grit covered man, before he manages to unlock the gate I need open.
"It's yours funeral," he barely manages to murmur. There's a certain amount of drunken cretins I can take at any given time, and he has passed this number. In a single connected move, I have his ramshackle weapon, a 'Bastard' submachine gun, on the floor and a gauntlet around his throat.
"I want you to take a look at the station you pretend to be protecting. The people in there are dependent on the security of these gates; and here you are, barely able to stand, much less raise an alarm for nosalises attacking." I throttle the man, no, the ублюдок, to make my point clear. After a short period of the moron pissing his pants, he quickly nods and backs away, rather sober now. I shoulder open the door, leaving the station behind me.
I sigh. To be honest with myself, Lone station is really one of the best stations in this depraved world. Some may call it hell; others believe it to be the gateway to heaven. The truth, however is this really is purgatory. I recall meeting this man, known to some as 'Wolf', but he told me to call him Khan. He had asked if I knew what happened when we died. I replied "No, of course not."
"You become a wraith to these dark tunnels of hope," Khan told me, and I felt inclined to believe him. Despite being over fifty, he easily could have kept pace with any ranger. He pointed out towards a shadow, or what I thought was one. "Those are the ghosts, unable to ascend to heaven or descend to hell, for we have atomized both, leaving them here in an eternal limbo." Then, I saw the shadow move, I heard the voice of a child wondering where her father is, then a nosalis attacks. It takes little imagination to judge what happened.
I snap back to where I still walk the tunnel. Only something brave or foolish would walk down this abandoned way. Perhaps I am both.
So caught up in my thoughts, I only just hear voices coming up ahead. They seem very close, hardly more than a few meters away. My reflexes kick in, raising my Kalash and flicking my headlamp on in second nature.
In front of me is a creature so similar to the blast shadows created by a nuclear weapon. It stares at me, curious. It also stands above me, roughly several meters tall, with arms that almost drag along the ground. My arms begin to shake. I believe I will die here. But wait…, the creature has no eyes, no details. I look around, and drop my Kalash at the sight. A dozen of the ghosts surround me. After a quick, staggering check of my map, I snatch my weapon back up and turn toward the first one.
"I hope this works," I pray, as if these beings truly can understand a word of what I say. After mustering what small reserves of courage I have left, I start chanting. "Ambulate in lumine, ambulate in lumine, ambulate in lumine, ambulate in lumine…" As I repeat the phrase, I notice the ghosts step aside, letting me pass through. Still, I keep what may as well be a prayer up to defend myself. As I trudge through, time begins to lose meaning.
It may have been only a few minutes, but I notice my surroundings no longer have ghosts around them. Khan's philosophy suddenly drags itself to the front of my mind: "You reap what you sow. Force shall answer force, war shall breed war, and death only brings death. To break this vicious cycle one must do more than act without any thought or doubt." Very different from my ranger corps. Our mantra states 'If it's hostile, you kill it.'
After walking for around thirty minutes, I see my goal in sight: the rumors were true. Sanctum station exists. As I eagerly begin approaching it, I hear a faint buzzing not unlike electricity. No, it can't be…
The source rounds the corner and reveals my fears to be verified: a large ball with an azure glow to it, sparks flying off at random intervals. I raise my gun, but then stop just before firing. Has anyone ever killed an anomaly? No, because you can't.
As the thing passes me by, I sigh in relief. My indecision saved me, but I can't stay here forever, not when-
"It's not so dangerous, is it?" A voice whispers. Instantly, I throw the butt of my gun into where this man's belly is and am rewarded with an explosion of air from what I hit. I turn on my heel to face who it is. I stop.
"Even without knowing how you would change, your face is something I can recognize, Khan." I smile, raising him from his prone position. "Apologies kicking your ass to the ground, you never know."
"You nearly died from an anomaly, I should apologize," Khan laughs, dismissively waving a hand at me. "As I said, it is not so dangerous, eh? Not as evil as your rangers have you believe." Khan places a cigar in his mouth, pausing to light it, then continues with it to the side, "No, it is no more evil than say fire. But I think you understand now."
"Understand what?" I inquire, as I have little idea as to what he is discussing. Were it not for my thinking about the history of anomalies, I would have opened up on the thing and probably die.
"Why I can't let you go to Sanctum." All too late I see the ashot he has pointed at me. "You may be cut from another cloth, but rangers would use the supplies in here to destroy that which they do not understand. Think: why did they not tell you what format 'supplies' take, hmmm? I suppose no one told you that 'Sanctum' is just a cover. When they refer to 'Sanctum', they refer to the last nuclear weapon. I refuse to let your jolly group of murderers control everyone with such a device." It can't be possible, can it? That, perhaps, my leader lied me?
And yet, I realize how correct Khan is. Whenever there was something a ranger failed to interpret, the usual response was to apply an unholy amount of firepower to the target. With such a device, we could control any station through mere mention of causing an apocalypse the station would not survive. He did not even require his weapon to convince me, though the 'shotgun-pistol' certainly can be persuasive. Especially considering who wields it. However, I also know it is my duty to inform the rangers of the station. At the very least, I must tell them the station exists. Hell, I am unaware if the 'weapon' Khan speaks of even exists.
"Khan, as much as I agree, it is my duty to enter that station and ensure the security of the supplies," I retort, making very clear that he may have an ashot, but I have far more armor than he has cover available and an automatic rifle. In truth, I have the power here.
"And tell me, what of the rangers? Would you stand idle while they commit genocide yet again? To bring the horrors of the surface into the Metro itself? They who claim to be our 'protectors' have killed far more than they protect. A sad fact, but true." Khan's response gave me pause, as does the sigh he exhales shortly after.
Pain flashes through me as I hear a loud noise rip through my ears. I feel a falling sensation, which is cut short by the hard rails of the tunnel. He shot me. Khan shot me. So why does he look shocked?
"Khan… wha… what did you?" I wheeze, blood starting to constrict my throat. Khan opens his mouth, but either says nothing or I miss what he says, as I hear nothing. A few shots ring out, and I turn to see the source. Mid turn, I freeze, seeing the broken corpse several meters away, a new puddle of crimson dying the tracks. Even with what little light trickled in from the shattered lights, the band of the Fourth Reich is present.
"I apologize. I can't help you ranger," Khan assures me, starting to slowly fade into the darkness. A grin forms on his lips, then continues, "But should you live, I have no doubt that we will meet again. Cest 'la vie, ranger. Cest 'la vie." With that, the lights flicker out, leaving me alone with my imagination. Colors are getting hard to see… Oh look. Another light.
But why's it moving?