“Might as well check the exit first since we’re already in this maze.” Sergio tapped the paper and then extended it towards her so they could both look at it. “See here?”
“Lead the way then, Sergio, boss, sir!” Marco saluted with a coy grin which was infectious.
Sergio only hoped that this lighthearted feeling would last in both of their hearts, because that worrisome pit in his stomach was fighting against her warm gesture even now. At least when it came to the tunnels and passageways he felt somewhat confident, but once they got to the surface, any number of things could happen.
Twenty minutes later, they had wound through the last stairwell marked on the instructions which should eject them into a police station. But upon climbing the stair tower, they were quickly halted by a smattering of concrete debris blocking the way. Sergio craned his head to try to look up beyond the blockage, but couldn’t tell where the mess began or ended. Bits of metal rebar and twisted pipes stuck out between the crumbled slabs at a steep angle, essentially putting a lid over their heads so they couldn’t reach the next landing. He could see a recess in the painted concrete shaft higher up which was probably the exit, but it would be impossible to climb up through the central column which seemed to be partially supporting the weight of the ruins. Perhaps with the right team of people, the blockage could be cleared away for a safe exit, but as of right now there was nothing the two of them could do to get through.
Sergio let out an annoyed breath through his nose, descending the twenty or so steps to where Marco had fallen back to the corner landing.
“It’s hopeless.” He grunted and gestured vaguely towards the concrete slabs piled up behind him.
“To the station, then?” She asked with a hint of excitement and he wondered again why she seemed so exuberant. Most new recruits were stunned silent by the very nature of their merit assignments, teeth chattering and hands clutched white-knuckled around their guns.
“How are you so calm about all this?” He blurted out, and then turned his head away awkwardly; he hadn’t wanted his annoyance about the situation to transfer to her.
“What do you mean?” Marco seemed hurt by his comment somehow, as if he had meant that she wasn’t taking their mission seriously. Sergio wished he could take it back, but it was too late now.
“Well I mean, like you seem actually happy to… like you aren’t worried at all?” Sergio studied the floor intently, not wanting his own worry to infect her.
“Of course I’m… well, not worried, but aware. I think it’s time for your own lessons, Sergio. Come on, sit here and listen for a minute.” Marco crouched down and settled with her legs crossed on the landing, patting the dusty floor beside her as an invitation to him.
He did as she asked, mostly out of curiosity, but more so out of confusion. What kind of lesson could she mean? Taking a deep breath, he settled down in the same fashion and opened up his mind for the task.
“Sacco used to tell me that listening was always more important than talking, than moving, than breathing even. You have to get to know your surroundings, understand them like a close friend, look and listen – to everything.” Marco paused and then searched his face for his understanding. “If you don’t know what is normal in a tunnel or a station, then how can you tell when something is wrong with it? It’s a constant process, and you can’t just forget about a tunnel or a hallway once you’ve been through it. You have to keep it up here,” she tapped her temple gently with one finger. “Keep it in your mind, picture it if you can, and that’s your real map to the Subway.”
“Okay, I think I get it… but how does that help you stay calm?” Sergio lowered a brow and leaned his head back disbelievingly.
“It’s about trust…” Marco gazed off at the wall momentarily, probably trying to hear in her mind Sacco’s exact words. “Trust in yourself. You can acknowledge your fear, you learn to live with it sitting inside of you, but you don’t ever let it have control. Are you in charge of your mind, or is it in charge of you?” Her voice even sounded a bit deeper at the end, as if she were channeling the Stalker’s own voice through her throat like in a séance.
“I-I don’t know… sometimes…” Sergio mumbled quietly, not wanting to recount or even think about his nightmares and visions; feeling like a hostage every time the Dark Ones entered his mind.
“Well now is the time to find out.” Marco stood up straight in one fluid motion and held her hand out as if to help him up as well. “It takes practice. We all have to start somewhere. I’ll help you as much as I can. Okay?”
Sergio gravely nodded his head as his thanks and only took her hand to complete the gesture because he didn’t really need her help to get up. He tried to force a smile but she was already starting to descend the stairs, so he would save that small amount of energy for the upcoming practice.
He led the way out to the Zamoskvoretskaya line easily, as he had already come through here a few times with Makarov; he wondered where the motorized trolley was that they had ridden to Sario on their way to the Church, was it still parked at the Sicily border? How many other Hunters came and went through here from D6?
In the tunnel, everything was quiet, with only a faint static noise filling his ears which was the omnipresent vortex of air running through the tubes that ancient man had carved into the Earth so precisely. Remembering Marco’ idea, he darted his flashlight around in search of the nearest air duct but Marco had found one first, having taken advantage of his slow reminiscent pace to dutifully carry out their mission. Sergio felt almost as if the roles were being reversed and maybe Vera was testing him, too – making sure that he was still fit for duty or seeing if he could at least compete on the same level as Marco? But he hadn’t had the luxury of personal training from a veteran of any force, and Marco had seemed to receive almost more than her fair share. Did the Realm give combat training to all their citizens, as Vera had mused about? How competent was Marco in battle before Sacco had met her? Evidently she had known just enough to get the Stalker’s attention, so then what could all of his lessons have been about? He only hoped that she would keep sharing them with him, and maybe then he could feel more confident in calling Sacco a mentor of his again, as the title had most certainly passed to Vera or Maro in the last two months.
“Give me a lift, will you?” Marco whispered loudly, dragging Sergio out of his thoughts. “And hand me my weapon after.”
Sergio did so without hesitation, taking a knee and cupping his hands to grasp her boot and haul her up towards the large square mouth of the ventilation ducts. He looked down to see the Vintorez leaning against the recess of the tunnel liners and tenderly picked it up, but he didn’t have any time to ruminate over it or its previous owner because Marco was whispering at him again.
“I’ll see how far I can get… I think the tavern is up on the left?” She awkwardly stretched a hand out of the opening because she didn’t have enough space to turn around and face him. Somehow she managed to fumble the rifle into position to balance on her back with one hand. “See how far you can go into the tunnel; maybe the residents are being cordial today. I’ll meet you up there somewhere.”
“Be careful,” he replied back sternly, wanting to say more but completely unsure as to what words would be helpful right now.
Marco didn’t answer, and he could faintly hear her shuffling through the ducts as he slowly turned to head towards the station. Verona. He tried to remember what was there; it was an independent residential station, and he vaguely recalled a small market and arguing with some woman but couldn’t remember any other details. He didn’t know a single thing about this tavern that Vera and Marco kept alluding to, and Marco had said there were bandits as well as the possible Realm insurgents. Did she try to keep track of every bandit-laden station, or was it only because her home station was at the other end of this very same line? Avtozavodskaya was, let’s see, five stops away, and Sergio knew that it could take more than two days trying to cross through both the Fourth Realm and the Red Line to get past all the other stations along the way. But on a speeding silver train? It might have only taken ten minutes. If only that kind of journey was still possible, then he wouldn’t worry so much about her if she decided to return back to Avtozavod.