Disclaimer: The characters and story originally created by Dmitri Glukhovsky in the book and video game series "Metro: 2033" and its sequels do not belong to me. Those properties are owned by Glukhovsky, 4A Games, and Deep Silver. This work of fiction is intended for entertainment purposes and is not meant to be canonical, though I tried very hard to make it fit within the parameters. I do retain my rights for the creation of my own original characters and ideas. I do not make any money from writing this story.
Chapter Nine: The Two Musketeers
Aleks stood still at the top of the stairway where the opening led out to the bottom floor of a building at street level. Looking apprehensively around the enclosure for signs of movement, she pulled one strap of her gas mask tighter and loaded a fresh magazine into her rifle, double checking that the safety was on. She fumbled in a pocket for a small compass and turned it a few times in her hand, periodically looking out into the distance through the shattered windows. Artyom assumed she was looking for landmarks or street signs that she recognized.
"Have you ever been to the surface before?" Artyom asked. He wanted to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder but restrained himself at the last minute. She seemed anxious, but that could have been because of their encounter with the mutants, not necessarily because they had come into a new hostile environment.
"Only a few times." She revealed in a somber tone that suggested that she didn't exactly enjoy the sight. "I was with Hunter."
Her revelation calmed her agitated movements, but put Artyom's senses on edge. He tilted his head slightly to the side, wanting to hear more about it. This time, he was concerned with both her history with Hunter and also what her impression of the ruined city was.
"I was furious the first time I saw it." She hung her head and sighed, clenching her compass in a fist. Her words had an increased effect as they stepped to the edges of the crumbling building and looked out over the desecrated remains of the over world. "How could we have done all this?"
"What do you mean?" Artyom scanned his eyes over the dead structures as he always had, not seeing anything more than the obliterated shells of concrete and marble dwellings.
"Humanity, us, people! How could our forefathers have blasted everything we had into oblivion? And even now, we divide ourselves into factions; we wage war against each other in the Metro. We use the very last of our precious resources to continue killing and destroying each other! Look at it! Don't you think we should have learned something from this?" Aleks held out her arm as she ventured to the outer wall of the building they were in, the palm of her hand flattened to the endless gray sky.
Artyom gazed out upon the landscape with a new perspective. Although understandably saddened by the visage during his other excursions to the surface, he had never fully contemplated the previous chapter of human life and what it had actually been like to live in a world untouched by the fires of war. He understood that he would never truly know what it had been, but now that she had spoken of her bitterness about the subject, he also found himself becoming angry that he had been deprived of that other life that the older residents in the Metro spoke of so fondly.
"You're right." He said simply, trying to compress the enormity of world events and the disaster to fit within the remaining expanse of their underground universe. What was the difference between the countries who had laid waste to Moscow and the factions down in the Metro shooting each other over ideology and territory? Having learned what he could from old textbooks and his stepfather's lessons about the previous world, he recognized that the factions and stations in the Metro represented different countries. Making this connection burned him up inside more than any small conflict he had encountered. He felt stupid, believing his role in life was so important, especially once his mission with Melnik and the Dark Ones had become clear. He had marched endlessly forward without question at the time, but all of that seemed so insignificant now in comparison to the vast expanse of ruined lives laid out before them.
"Do you remember any of it?" Aleks asked quietly, breaking the gloomy silence.
Artyom turned to see Aleks watching him with concern.
"No, well, not really. I can barely see it." Artyom squeezed his eyes shut and, with effort, pushed the memory to the forefront of his mind. "I remember… the trees… at the Botanical Gardens. I was there with my mother. She bought me an ice cream. Then we were on the train home, and… it all ended."
"I was very young too. I remember walking with both of my parents in Red Square, it was Christmas time. Did you ever see it? They put up a huge tree with glittering lights all over it." Her voice waned as her visions of it took over, her eyes twinkling as they lit up with the memories. "And in the Spring they have the Victory Day parade, thousands of soldiers marching and tanks… people honor the soldiers who died in the past wars and walk to St. Basil's Cathedral… and they would set off fireworks at night."
Standing side by side they stared into the city, now eroding and dim. Artyom tried to imagine every crevice in vivid and beautiful detail, as if nothing had changed.
The distant screech of an unseen demon brought them back into the real world. Aleks took to gazing back at her compass. Artyom blinked a few times, hoping that his vision of the city would return for one more moment, but it was in vain. He checked his watch, it was just about four in the afternoon, and judging by the angle of the sun low in the sky confirmed that he had been diligent about keeping the time correctly. Feeling somewhat proud, he looked over at Aleks who was now scanning a scrap of paper with neat scribbling resembling a homemade map.
"Wherever we're going, we should hurry before it gets too dark." He said in a low voice, apprehensive to the nocturnal activity of mutants and other creatures if they delayed much longer. It was hard to say whether the surface was more dangerous during the day or the night, as there was a fair amount of nocturnal predators just the same as there were creatures that enjoyed the warmth of the sun.
Aleks nodded her head in agreement, although didn't seem very sure of herself or her directions.
"We'll keep heading for Kuznetsky Most. There is an entrance to Red Square, but it's heavily guarded inside and I don't think we would be welcome without a pass or an escort, especially with weapons." She spoke as she took her first hesitant steps onto the street.
"Okay, lead the way." Artyom gave her a reassuring smile, but it wasn't perceptible through the visor of his helmet.
Aleks gave a quick nod of her head to indicate which direction they would be heading in, folded up the map neatly, and proceeded down the street to the left of the building. Immediately their path was littered with debris from ruined buildings and abandoned cars, making their route more like a maze. They wound their way two blocks northwest, periodically having to climb over some objects and obstacles to continue in the right direction.
They were flanked by the tall skeletons of high rise offices and apartments, most of which had store fronts adorning the lowest level. Artyom could make out a few words from the old signs and advertisements; a corner grocery store, a liquor store, an electronics shop. The few entrances that weren't blocked or collapsed showed him only empty cabinets, bare shelves, and some stores were completely barren, having been stripped of all useful components that were no doubt serving some new purpose down in the Metro.
Metal shelving for instance had a wide variety of uses, depending on if it was a solid sheet or a grated type of shelf. They could be used for barricades or reinforcements of walls, for fortifying or building completely new trolley carts, to make bed frames or other furniture. Wooden planks had mostly been burned in the early underground days for warmth, light, and for cooking. It was a rare to find boards that hadn't already been altered or cut in some way. Bottles and cans were emptied and reused, usually for brews of teas and alcohol, but also for medicine and for filtered water. Wires and other electronic components were often disassembled in order to make weapons or repair existing radios, motors, and light systems.
Artyom wondered if those things could have been put to better use, his head still clouded with reflections on the previous conversation. The memory of Nikolai's story about holdovers jumped to his mind. At the beginning of humanity's survival in the Metro, the intention was just that – to survive, though in a shorter term sense as most people assumed that the military or government would come to evacuate them from the Metro at some point. Although assuredly curious and eager to return to the surface, there was such fear and misinformation among the survivors even now that Artyom thought it wouldn't have been possible for life in the Metro to have evolved any other way.
He looked ahead to Aleks, who had stopped momentarily to check her compass again. It had been nearly an hour since they had ascended to the cluttered streets. The sun teetered on the edge of the horizon, basking the jagged landscape in a golden orange glow. She tucked the instrument away and looked over at him, gesturing at a sizeable pile of rubble. With an apprehensive sigh, he hurried to her side, taking the first few steps up the shattered concrete remnants before offering her a hand.
"On the other side is the entrance to Revolution Square, it should be clear but sometimes there's a patrol. Try to stay quiet until we can figure out the situation." Aleks grasped Artyom's outstretched hand with her own. She looked up as if she knew exactly what was on the other side of the wall and could see it.
"Right." Artyom nodded his understanding, squeezing her hand tight and pulling her up to his level once he'd found a stable foothold. "Have you been to this station, too?"
"I passed through Revolution Square after I, well, after I got out of Reich. It wasn't the best home for a runaway girl but it is where I met Nikolai and Dmitri." Aleks continued to climb ahead of him. She was nimble, despite her armor and rucksack.
"They are from the Red Line? How did you meet them?" Artyom was slightly surprised at the fact, but that didn't change his affinity towards the brothers in any way. It answered a lesser query in his mind as to how the noble band of vigilantes met one another, setting another piece of the Red Arrow puzzle in place.
"They were traders there but they actually lived at Prospect Marx and visited Teatr and the square regularly to do business." Aleks reported almost with pride.
Artyom wasn't surprised about the brothers' business history, and he nodded his head intently in order to further the conversation.
"After a little while, they told me that they actually worked as spies for the Comrade Commissar. It sounds interesting, being a spy, but it isn't what you might think. They hated it because they were instructed to inform on their neighbors and friends. What you've heard about people snitching on each other there? Well, it's true." Aleks' final statement was spoken with a subdued tone, and it was obvious to Artyom that she would not speak of it further.
He pursed his lips in understanding and disappointment as he gave a solemn nod of his head. He could only imagine that such a predicament would be the exact reason that the brothers sought a life outside the Red Line, and their mutual refugee status with Aleks and Ivanovich was what inspired the Red Arrow to form up. Artyom was certainly thankful that he was lucky enough to have lived in an independent station where trust in your neighbor was as important as air for breathing. Although that had left his life at VDNKh rather sterile, he was grateful for the protection it had afforded him for so long.
Aleks reached the top of the rubble pile first, and peered over the crumbled edges of the slabs. Below was a wide half-paved clearing in front of another Metro entrance which was situated at the base of a mostly untouched and ornate brick building.
"Okay, it looks clear - but let's wait a minute and see." Aleks whispered closely.
It appeared to Artyom that the Reds had purposefully piled up the debris in the area on both sides of the street below them, making somewhat of a canyon. Revolution Square was one of the most iconic stations of the Red Line and in general was expected to be rather grand, but Artyom also knew that the purpose was more sinister – it left room for the movement of a large number of soldiers to enter and exit at will.
Short gusts of wind pressed on them, making a faint whoosh as it passed through the empty window frames of the buildings around them. Otherwise, there were no sounds for several minutes. Aleks motioned for Artyom to slowly follow her down the other side of the pile, somewhat sliding along the slanted blocks and slabs, it was much more steep on this side. Reaching street level with a thud, Artyom was immediately tackled by Aleks as she pushed him down behind an overturned car. Lying on her stomach facing him, it looked as if she were trying to press her body into the ground behind a low metal fence. Artyom followed suit and stayed low. His heart pounded excitedly when he heard the echoing voices of several people a short distance away.
Aleks shook her head briskly at him, as if shivering, her eyes wide with fear and trying to express the need for silence and stillness; the sound of human chatter was usually comforting but was not always a welcome occurrence. She pressed the side of her head to the pavement and listened. Artyom carefully straightened out his legs behind him so that he lay completely flat. Through the gap beneath the car he could see several pairs of boots marching down the street. The formation wasn't very organized and they could both hear rather informal conversation going on between the men walking past.
"Why do we have to go the long way, Comrade Major?" A young soldier whined timidly.
"Blyad Igorek, I've told you before - when we are out on patrol, you address me only as Comrade!" Spoke a second man in a playful tone despite the serious order. "Anyway, we have to go around because of the mess in Venice."
"What happened this time?" A third man asked in a very deep and serious voice.
"Eh, some rival bandit clan showed up and caused a big scene, there was some shooting and everybody ran. It's all locked down until they can clean it up." The second man - and apparent commander - answered.
Artyom was amazed that the news of their misfortune in Venice had already travelled so quickly. Perhaps the Reds also had emplaced members in that station just as the Red Arrow had with Semyon, feeding information back to their commanders. He looked over at Aleks but she didn't move, still listening to the conversation between the soldiers.
"Have you started reading that book I leant you yet?" A fourth voice sounded, but it wasn't clear who he had questioned.
"Oy chuvak! It's freakin' addicting! Athos is definitely my favorite character, for sure. I just wish I had more time to read it." The commander replied exuberantly, but the voices were starting to dampen as the squad walked further down the cleared path. "Their motto reminds me of our home on the Red Line. All for one, and one for all, eh priyatel?"
The echo of their laughter faded to silence with the next gust of wind. It was nearly dark now and Artyom was suddenly eager to get moving again. The chill in the air set his hair standing on end and the urge to reach their destination became dominant. Aleks quickly sprang to her feet, and a fleeting look between them confirmed to the other that they were ready to continue. Aleks led the way down the next cleared street towards Kuznetsky Most.
The next segment of their trek was rather straightforward compared to the veritable labyrinth they navigated coming from the abandoned side of Kitai Gorod. Aleks hadn't reached for her map or compass since they had started moving again, which was probably a good sign. Artyom kept very close behind her, his rifle now in his hands. The disappearance of the sun had put his instincts on high alert. Ulman's advice came back to him - You can't predict mutants for long. He worried about another ambush - after all, so many things had gone wrong since they had left Avtozavodskaya with a company of five. Then again, perhaps there was only a certain amount of bad luck one could encounter within the expanse of a day. It seemed to him that their hardship had ceased since coming to the surface, as their avoidance of being noticed by the Red patrol squad was actually extremely lucky.