Han rubbed his eyes while looking towards the rusted metal door. The gateway between hell, and...well, whatever little slice of the world they were sitting in. He wasn't really sure what to think about the world these days. He'd heard all sorts of conjecture, from stories of an angry god punishing mankind for their transgressions, to tales of man simply being bystanders of some holy conflict, something beyond our meager comprehension. And those were the tame ones.

Not many people seem to remember life before the sky opened up and rained nuclear fire on the world as they knew it. Most of them just ramble on about how mankind “reached too far” for “aspirations beyond human measure”, or something equally dreary in their trademark ambiguous mannerisms.

Of course he had read what it was really about. His pragmatic side didn't really know whether to believe it or not; he'd seen firsthand the things that men were capable of when pushed to their limits, but that was just survival instinct. Putting yourself above others, doing what was necessary no matter the cost, not taking any chances. You versus them. You against a world more deliberately malevolent than simply unforgiving. But something about the shear ignorance- no, not ignorance; deliberate disregard for the consequences; something just didn't seem to fit. The idea that his very kind was capable of willingly bringing about its mutually assured destruction just vexed him to no end.

But he shook his head, replacing those thoughts with ones of the here and now.

“Han? You listening, mechtatel'?”

He snapped his head towards his addresser. Mik was clearly not too pleased with him. This was hardly the first time he'd been caught deep in introspection.

“Yeah. Straps tight, mags polished. Batteries charged.” This wasn't his first trip to the dead world. He half-cocked his Kalash to make sure a round was chambered before letting it go with a slick, acoustic clack.

He thumbed over his magazines. He couldn't afford the luxury of the window-cut mags, for the same reason he was bringing an AK. On the surface, fixing jams costs you precious time. Filter time. Up top, every priority is put towards minimizing risks, and anything nothing avoids those kinds of risks like one of Kalashnikov's finest.

“Did Vad tell you anything about Nazi patrols?” piped Mik.

“No, but I've heard scattered rumors. Something about them being more active around the east apartments?”

“Heh, if only that was the most worrisome part. Nah, they're pushing towards the square.”

“What? Already? Did the Reds put up any fight?”

“I wish. They just cut their losses and ran as soon as they saw that Triskelion flag.”

“Damn.” He knew of course that this didn't bode well for either side. The Fourth Reich's been facing extinction without expansion for as long as he could remember, and the Reds must be pretty desperate to be giving up such a crucial foothold of their line. This, of course, bode well for the free metro as a whole. It's a pity to see so many pointlessly sacrifice themselves in a struggle over radical ideology, but he figured it would be cleaner to let them tear each other to pieces away from the rest of the free stations.

“So what scenic paradise are we to visit today, ekskursovod?” joked Han.

“Surprise surprise, we're reconning the surface area to see just how far the Nazis have pushed them back. Scout fortifications, armaments; you know, the usual deal for upper management just in case we end up having to intervene. Keeping tabs on our esteemed guests.”

“Alright then. You leading?”

“Yeah. I've got us a nice path that'll cut right through the ruins of an old, collapsed underpass. Abandoned... for the most part.”

“Most part?” Han's came to rigid attention at Mik's vague suggestion.

“Yep. Batteries still pretty fresh?”

Han grimaced. The fact that Mik didn't ask about his ammo supply was pretty telling.

“Yeah....” he sighed.

“Well then, we should be off!” Mik flicked off the lamp. Everything went black for a few seconds before their eyes adjusted to the thin stream of light peaking through the bottom of the door outside.

A soft click reverberated as both flicked the safeties off of their rifles. Mik walked up to the door, and aimed his AK at it.

“Gotovy?

“Gotov.”

Han swept open the door, and they both rushed out into the blinding, cold light.