The station where I lived most of the time was named Komsomolskaya; it was the closest thing to a home I had. Everyone knew me and I knew them. My Mother was killed in a mutant attack one day, leaving me only with my Father; all we had was each other after that. In my late teens I was trained by my station guard Captain, Dmitri, how to shoot and defend myself. Dmitri was once a Spetsnaz soldier so he made every drop of sweat count and made it a challenge to earn it.

When Dmitri saw it fit for me to be sent into the dark abyssal tunnels he gave his old Kalash assault rifle to me and assigned me as one of the station's protectors and Stalkers. One day I was returning from a journey to Polis where I had political and social matters to attend to. I was glad to smell the familiar scents of gunpowder, onions, and dirt of Komsomolskaya and was glad to be there. That is where our story begins.

"Mikhail! I know those strong steps anywhere," cried out Andrei who was a young guard full of youth and dreams like a young pup.

I continued to walk along the old, all-knowing tracks nonchalantly toward Komsomolskaya's guarded entrance. I could already savor the tenderness and the spiced aroma of the roasted pork waiting for me.

"How was Polis? You suck up to those pompous Rangers yet," remarked Andrei with a small chuckle.

"You know I would never do that Andrei, those sleeze bags take more shots of vodka than taking real shots at Dark Ones."

Andrei laughs, "You surely haven't lost your sense of humor, Mikhail. Come on in, your Father and Dmitri will be glad to see you."

I walked up to the entrance guard post where Andrei was at his duty of manning the old machine gun, which would overheat or jam during almost every attack due to the Metro gunsmiths lack of skill. The guard post was lit by a feeble lamp, which only partially brightened the area. There was a rotting, moth eaten table and chair that was covered over by a dirty, prewar beach tent. The table was littered with empty rifle and machine gun rounds along with ammo boxes full of fresh rounds and cartridges.

The Komsomolskaya tunnel entrance gate was merely a rusted chain linked fence covered with sheets of metal. The gate was a sliding sheet covered fence with at least a dozen locks on the inside. In the gate there was a small, crudely shaped, hole that was covered over with barbed wire where the gate guards could see through.

I stepped towards the gate as Andrei cried out, "Grigori! Open the gate would ya! Mikhail has returned!"

A muffled answer then came from beyond the sealed gate, "Mikhail! Can't be! He hasn't been mauled by a mutant or killed by bandits yet? Alright, I guess I can let him in. Just as long as he's scavenged some more vodka and hashish for us to enjoy."

Grigori laughed in amusement at his own joke.

The gate then let out a series of metallic clangs as each lock was slowly undone.

Komsomolskaya was just as I had remembered it. Children rushed around causing mischief, Mothers tended to new born babies or mended clothing, the men gathered around the fire smoking hashish and speaking of rumors and tales spread throughout the Metro.

I was just soaking in all the old remembrances of home when a booming voice called out to me, "Mikhail oh, Mikhail I trained you well!"

I searched for the location of the voice when I caught sight of the speaker, it was Dmitri, my old friend and mentor. Dmitri was a bulky, muscular man with an air of authority and leadership about him. Probably one of the best men I have ever had the honor to know.

"What is this…. your 13th run into the tunnels alone? I'm starting to think your going to surpass my skills, Mikhail."

"I could never surpass you, Dmitri," I replied, "I let a Dark One take a hit at me during my journey, it was merely a scratch but still it was shameful of me to have let it happen. Right after it attacked me I unleashed at least 10 bullets into its ugly damn face!"

Dmitri chuckled, "So how was Polis? Any news?"

I waved my hand in dismissal, "Polis is the same as it's always been. Drunken Rangers, so called "politicians" who act like they give a crap about the rest of the Metro's needs. You know…. Same old."

Dmitri then guffaws with laughter and claps me on the shoulder, "Come, Mikhail. I'll take you to your Father. Also, remember that young girl? Oh what's her name….. Oh yes! Vera! She was asking an awful lot about you, always asking where you are, what your doing, when your com—"

Dmitri was cut off by a guard, rushing into the area. The guard shouted out, "Dmitri! There has been an attack on the tunnel guard post! Come quick!"

Dmitri snatched up his homemade triple barreled shotgun and motioned for me to follow along with him. I grabbed my Kalash assault rifle and darted along side Dmitri.

As we neared the entrance gate Grigori was seen sitting at his post with his hands covering his face. Faint moans and sobs could be heard echoing throughout the tunnel. The gate was widely opened with at least three gray, bloodsoaked mutant corpses littered at the entrance. Dmitri and I kicked aside the corpses as we went through the gate. The guard post was demolished; sand bags torn apart, and even the table flipped over.

I felt an eerie chill go down my spine as I thought, "Dark Ones aren't that stupid to attack a post guarded by only one man."

Dmitri said as if reading my mind, "They must be desperate…. Poor bastards. Starving perhaps? Can't fill that ever-lasting hunger of theirs?"

I was scanning the area when I found a dark red streak of blood stretching to a dark, ominous corner. I followed the streak all the way to that dismal corner and found an undistinguishable figure lying there against the wall. I fumbled for my match box and struck a match to light my view. The figures stomach was gorged through as if by an animal with his guts and bowels hanging out. The man was obviously dead but his face was stricken with a terrible look of fear it made it seem he was still alive. I was then struck with a wave fear and anger as I realized who that man was. It was Andrei, the young, naïve and cheerful man that had greeted upon my arrival to Komsomolskaya.