“I still think it’s possible that he’s alive somewhere.” Sergio insisted, hoping that saying it out loud would somehow make it true.
“Yeah but all this time and nobody has heard a word from him? Nobody has seen him anywhere? That guy was no joke; he was a real warrior. No simple Snout or Demon could take him down, it had to be a bad situation up there.” Nikolai attempted to convey how hopeless the idea was.
“How does she know him, anyway?” Sergio thought it was worth a try. If Nikolai was willing to be thankful in her stead, perhaps he could get an answer from him on her behalf as well.
“It’s not for me to say. Give her a while, she’ll calm down, then you can ask her again yourself.” Nikolai smiled his usual warm smile and that went a long way to comfort Sergio. Perhaps this wasn’t a group of crazy outcasts trying to become bandits or start a faction. They were just the same as he was, human, and looking for answers.
Chapter 5: Avtozavodskaya
Here at Avtozavodskaya there was a moderate amount of activity despite the late hour, though it did not seem as bustling as a larger station would be, as here there seemed to be no need for defenses or patrols. It was a strangely decorated station, with very tall straight walls and only a very narrow platform in the middle of the two tunnels which seemed to stretch on forever into the darkness. There were many square marbled columns that fanned out at the tops and blended seamlessly into the cracked plastered ceiling, illuminated by the red and occasionally white emergency lights if the protective casing around the bulb had been broken.
Sergio sat at the edge of his given tent in the long row of them set up between the columns on one side of the platform. Leaning his back against the cot, the flap was open and he watched the activity of every passerby. He remained dazed by the events that had just taken place, by the personalities he had been captured by. The predicament with Sara’s connection to Sacco was peculiar and the way she and her group had gone about looking for clues was extremely clever. It proved, at least to him, that they didn’t intend to harm him. He was agreeably surprised to learn that he was not the only one who had been mentored by Sacco. Knowing that someone else shared the pain of the veteran Hunter’s disappearance was a relief. He still contemplated how Sara had come to know him. When and where could they have met? What experiences did they share or what had Sacco taken an interest in with her to begin with. Obviously the fact that she was intelligent and resolute was a fine basis for any faction soldier, or even an officer. In fact she technically was one; she modeled herself as the leader of Roten Spaten and none of her male counterparts seemed to question or disparage her. Everything they did was for her support or was in line with an order she had given them. She was a brilliant mastermind, watching her orchestrations go along like a graceful melody.
And what of the Revolutionists? Mentioned by Nikolai, it seemed as though Roten Spaten had some kind of agreement with them to inhabit and defend their reserve base in their absence – unless they were just one small squad of a larger ideal and each collective force had its own name. Like the bandit clans but in reverse? Sergio remembered Comrade Rusakov offhandedly mentioning Avtozavod before the squad of energetic men dropped him at Paveletskaya not more than six weeks ago. How could he have imagined what was really down here besides maybe a few hidden stockpiles of ammo and canned food in case of emergencies? Surely not an entire populace of people who were never mentioned in the rest of the Subway, but he supposed that most stations outside the Ring territory weren’t of note to most of the larger factions who controlled the central confederations. Even his own station at Exhibition had relative anonymity before stories of the Dark Ones reached out to the larger audience, and ended up drawing in Sacco to his doom.
Sergio was basically a nobody when Sacco had come to The underground radio station. Yet somehow the Stalker knew to trust him with such an outrageous task for someone who had barely left their home station before. Uncertain was a severe understatement for what Sergio had been at the time, he knew nothing of the types of despicable people who controlled the key areas that he had to travel though in order to get to Polis. It all seemed so impossible at the time, and yet here he was, still breathing, on the other side of the finish line. Either Sara was just as ordinary as he was, or Sacco could read minds and see into the future. Perhaps it was both. Though reluctant and terrified, Sergio had carried out his mission dutifully, even though it had actually lead him in a whirlwind across half of the Subway and always landed him on the wrong side of the barricade. Sara didn’t seem afraid of anything, and on the contrary seemed quite in charge of herself and her station – did it belong to her? Maybe the residents could give him some clues to all of his wonderings.
The people here were unusually quiet and went about their business at a leisurely pace. There was one communal fire burning on the tracks of the far tunnel just off the platform; several residents were gathered around it having a pot of tea and a laugh. There were many decidedly non-Italyn people here, and Sergio remembered fondly the members of the Revolutionist squad. The population was the same here, most people were of some brand of European culture, but also he could recognize a few Americans, Asians, Africans, and Spaniards. There was at least one person of every heritage that he could see from where he was sitting.
“So this is what Nikolai meant when he said these people had nowhere else to go.” Sergio spoke quietly to himself. With all the increasing standards for genetics in the Realm territory, and with Polis and Sicily being so wary of outsiders wanting to immigrate, there truly weren’t many places for simple people just wanting to lead a life of peace. Although this station was small and dark, it was beautiful because of its diversity. Sergio had never really considered the question of racial purity. A small part of him supposed that the complete loss of Italyn culture would be a shame, but he never understood why racial background held such precedence if these people had been living in Rome before. None of it mattered now anyway, there was no Italy anymore really.
On that sour note, Sergio decided he had done enough sitting and thinking, and struggled to his feet lazily. Letting out a long breath, he walked down the main platform for a ways, listening to random conversation and the laughter of some children. He wondered if he would have children someday; if he would live for a long enough time to care for them, or whether it was worth it at all to risk having a child that was sickly and condemned to live in this underground cesspool forever.
Too much thinking, he had to immerse himself somehow. He tried his luck sitting in the small kitchen area, hoping to integrate himself into another person’s conversation, but the few people who were sitting down to eat remained aloof to his presence. Next, he walked to the fire; there was always a good conversation to be had when sitting around the community fire, even with people you didn’t know. This time he ventured an introduction.
“Hello, may I sit with you?” He asked timidly, adding in a weak smile.
“Of course my friend, pull up a crate. The tea is a bit cold now, but you’re welcome to a cup if you can tell us a good story!” A man with a short beard spoke with a gentle but deep voice. He was impressively built, with blonde hair, and wore a long brown jacket.