Work Text:
The Chapter Title is from a Song:
Narayan · The Prodigy
The subway tunnel was lifeless, just footsteps were reproducing. It sounded like numerous people were strolling, their boots heavily merging with the metallic railings. The echo was drilled into the dark underpass, vibrating as it got back two the people carefully trekking in the darkness.
Since Khan had gathered up Artyom in the tunnels of Sukharevskaya near Prospekt Mira he had not expressed a lot with his mysterious rescuer. It already was apparent that he was senior, and even had been knowledgable before the missiles had struck the surface of Russia. Khan was... Artyom had no concept of what to even assume of him, but it was useful to know that he could at least rely on the philosopher, who unmistakably had been sent from Hunter. He had a deep knowledge of various paranormal or mystical phenomena in the Metro. It still made Artyoms skin crawl to think that Bourbon had perished because of the dead singing in the pipes, which held them trapped in the tunnel system. The conversation was still so clear in his mind, he already had forgotten that he had just pocketed the dead of their belongings.
They finally had reached the small station, the first checkpoint and meter glowing with a faint light. His feet hurt, every step was difficult and Artyom tried to focus not to trip over the bearers on the ground. Loose stones and dust were kicked up as Artyom stumbled. In the low flashlight, he could see how rusted the metal rails were. Long cobwebs hung from the ceiling as Khan directed his head towards it, attentively watching the cursed subsurface passage. The light which annihilated the walls of the tunnel grow more and more, and so did the shadows, long shapes of their dark shades hunting the metro system. It felt like someone or them, in a different timeline was stepping behind them and the feeling that something was about to happen did not leave Artyom. His hair on his arms was standing away, a fit of goosebumps running over every pore on his skin. It was frigid, and the gun in his hands was grave, dragging him down to the ground. If he fell, he was sure he would be sucked up by the depths of darkness, falling through the rails, into hell. Burning flames, just like Artyom imagined the Metro and his beloved home station looking like if the Dark Ones took over. It was all so bizarre, to think that he had lived there in harmony for so long, and now it was all so close to being annihilated if he didn't succeed... He needed to reach Polis as quickly as he could and speak to Melnik! He had sworn it to Hunter. We would do this for his home station and for everyone he knew, they will be protected!
Khan seemed to detect his loop of thoughts as if he could read his mind. Artyom acknowledged that he was a wizard, just like he had rumors about them back in VDNKh. Khan even looked like one. Artyom recalled that they had long beards, and weird clothes with stars imprinted and he couldn't help himself but smile at that thought. The clothes that Khan was wearing were true, magical in Artyom's eyes. So colorful fabric, stars, and constellations are embroidered, with a deep red tone fading into blue again. It reminded him of something... Something he had seen before! Was it the Arabic desert? Or the Silk Road, which existed so many years ago. Expensive and bright textures were being passed around, with warm thunderstorms of sand entrapping the traveling caravan. It was even impossible to imagine such a thing, sand, what was it exactly and how did it feel like? Artyom did not believe that it was so small that it could run through one's fingers as Sukhoi had represented it once to him.
And then there it was again, the deep fear that he would never get to ask his Stepdad if he had seen any deserts yet. Just like the gold powder in the endless heat, VDNKh will be gone, nothing more than a memory, just like everything he knew and saw. Another cold shiver ran over him and he dragged his hurting arms onto his jacket, pulling his limbs close to his body.
"Don't dwell on it... the bad thoughts... otherwise they become true" Khan spoke up, the rifle he was carrying was clinging against the weird spray can, which was revealed to be a self-made battery that could be charged.
"I... How do you know? " Artyom asked, regretting instantly to even confront the mysterious man. He had so much more knowledge than him, and it was hard to believe what Khan was speaking off being lies.
"That you are thinking about the dangers of the Metro? Or that everything will go wrong when it could go wrong? " Khan stated, raising his eyebrow as he waited for Artyom to reach up to him. The Station wasn't far away now and it felt him more at ease. The tunnel fear was getting ahead of him, feeling watched.
"Both..." Artyom chuckled, he felt hesitant to speak to Khan. He had no idea why but he did not want to anger him. Those blue eyes were sparkling with something so magical and as if it was a window to a different universe, jumping into a different realm.
"At the worst possible time, everything will go wrong " Khan stated low, his glance somewhere far off, not explaining what he meant by that and Artyom shuddered.
With a loud gulp, he followed Khan who simply continued towards the guards sitting on the ground as if nothing happened. More questions about questions burning on his tongue like hot tea.
"And what... defined that it will go wrong?" Artyom questioned, unsure if he was being rude towards the weird magical man.
"You and the universe, to be more specific Murphy's law" Khan replied, his yellowish teeth glowing in the orange light of the fireplace. The guards at the checkpoint did not even look up to them. One of them nodded toward Khan as a greeting and they were let in.
"The law, it exists, and it is real, so never think about the bad things that lurk, otherwise you will end up facing them," Khan remarked and Artyom nodded, taking that advice to the heart.
Artyom took a huge gulp as he saw the station of Sukharevskaya. The first thing that Artyom detected about the station was that the ceiling of it was smaller than the previous one in the tunnel. Once orange-looking marble stones littered half of the wall and then concrete reached into the air with an ark. Or that was what it should have looked like before they had settled into the tunnel system. An old sign reading the directions was already so destructed it was impossible to even comprehend the letters. It was dim in Sukharevskaya, nothing but one big fireplace in the middle of the station, making the trails of rails where the trains would have departed lingering with shadows of the pylons. Black squared and glass shards were the only leftover of the initial light in the metro.
"Lighting used to come from rows of inset lamps running along the base of the ceiling," Khan explained seeing that Artyom was inspecting the upper part of the shelter.
"What will we do here?" he asked, Khan greeting the men who were on watch, their guns readied in their hands, their flashlight seeping into the darkness of the other end of the platform. Not a lot of structures were built here, in the distance he could see that a marketplace had been made. Different smells were blowing in his direction from the cold wind that swept over the station, the sweet aroma of something cooking making his stomach growl. It was different from Prospekt Mira, where he had been particularly blown away by the things in the station in awe. Wooden walls separate houses, instead of tents littering the huge platform. The lights were so bright, that he had to squint. But here in Sukharevskaya, it was more a faint glow like back in VDNKh.
"Rest" Khan spoke with reassurance, and his blue eyes had even a relaxing effect on Artyom. He felt safe with him, just like he had felt with Sukhoi.
"We will rest. Like Genghis Khan did before conquering the Muslim Khwārezm-Shah dynasty." Khan declared and Artyom nodded uncertain, not even understanding what he was lecturing about but if it made sense for Khan he counted on him. The older man had sat down, patting the space next to him with his gloved hands.
"Who were they?" Artyom questioned, sitting down on one of the wooden planks that had been littering the station. He looked around again, the entire atmosphere was dire. As if something evil had been in the air, seeping out of the tunnels, scaring every person living at Sukharevskaya away. Just the guards were there, others peeked with interested eyes out of their tents, disappearing as Artyom looked at them. The fire was crackling loudly next to them, warming up everything.
"Who?" Khan replied, the backpack he was wearing was loudly hitting the ground, multiple metallic objects being thrown on the inside of it around. Artyom silently watched the older man, who easily zipped open the bag, taking out items of food.
" The Khwārezm-Shah?" Khan expressed, raising his eyebrow in a judging manner and Artyom lowered his head with shame. It was clear to him that he could not hold as much knowledge about everything in the world as Khan did, but he still felt as if important things were absent from his mind.
"Yes, who were they?" Artyom requested, still not looking at the old wizard.
"They were the enemies of my foremost! The Dynasty that ruled in Central Asia and Iran, they were fierce warriors and unafraid, but Ghensis Khan was stronger!" the aged man revealed, his voice suddenly so low and different it send a shiver down his back. The blue eyes which were fixated on the backpack were suddenly clouded and foggy. There hadn't been a lot of sounds in the metro station itself but now Artyom was aware of how quiet it had gotten and he turned around. The crackling of the fire next to them was the only sound and it echoed around so intensely in the huge hall of the platform. Even the whispering of the guards had stopped.
"I didn't know that" Artyom whispered, nodding with interest, hoping that Khan would return to the man he was when he had met him a few hours prior.
"Of course, you didn't, you weren't there" Khan stated, something cruel in his voice making him feel on edge. It was as if the storyteller had been trapped in the old events again, seeing the war before him. The flames sparkling in his eyes, dancing with so much wrath Artyom felt suddenly very unsafe around the fellow. And as if nothing had happened, Khan went back to normal, with a soft smile giving him a reassuring nod.
"Disshelf your backpack, don't waste your energy" he instructed and Artyom let out a growling hiss as he removed the weight from his shoulders, shoving it between his legs.
"So tell me Artyom, where exactly do you need to go?" Khan urged, his hands working quick as he set up some pot, burning water inside of it, preparing food. He watched what Khan was doing, and after finally sitting down he could feel the exhaustion in his body. His legs and arms were aching with a dull pain when he moved. He hoped he did not break any bones. The worry if he ever could make it to Polis was deeply in his chest, making it hard to breathe and he stemmed his hands onto the wooden surface. Trying to ground himself, he started to hum an old sold he heard often as a kid, his mother had sung it to him? Or was that Sukhoi? He was not sure anymore, but it felt soothing and relaxing and Khan patiently waited for an answer, not even demanding that Artyom stops whatever he is doing.
"I can hear the uncertainty and the certainty, clarity and the lack of clarity in the rhythm" Khan stated, with closed eyes listing carefully to the tone that Artyom was humming. He felt indeed uncertain now, not sure if he should continue but he did, wanting to know more.
"The clouds of probability are strong around you" Khan explained further, but to Artyom, it made no sense, those were just words he did hear, he acknowledged them, their meaning-making sense of their sounds, but he still lacked the understanding. He stopped, gulping heavily his head feeling like it was smoking, waiting for a further piece of the puzzle.
"Don't stop, don't break the flow of the universe!" Khan demanded with a cold voice and Artyom shuddered, obeying him.
After some time of Artyom humming the melody which just as Khan had interpreted as clear and unclear at the same time was becoming true. His voice got shakier at some parts, uncertain if he was now allowed to stop and he let out a relieved huff as Khan nodded. The man waved his hands, the bracelets on his arm ringing.
"So young Artyom? Where will your journey take you?" Khan requested the hint that he knew the answer already made him fidget with trepidation.
"I need to go to Polis, over the transit station-" Artyom started to explain but he was quietened by Khan who waved the knife in the air.
"We will travel to Kitai-Gorod, there our path might split, but it is uncertain yet" Khan philosophized, and Artyom wanted to already ask how he knew that. The man smiled, the beard on his chin hanging down waving as he nodded, before speaking up.
"I do know, I saw it. It won't be easy" he expressed in a calm manner and Artyom felt the anxiety in his body rising. No matter whether it was that even made Khan uncertain it might kill him for sure.
"Where is everyone?" Artyom asked, feeling uneasy at the thought that no of the people in the station were visible as if they could feel the darkness around them. Just some rats were crawling around, quickly rushing over the platform to disappear into the other line of trails. He tried not to think about how many there were lingering around, the squeaking they caused making him shiver. It was even shameful to admit that he was afraid of such small creatures... But the memory of how they had emerged into a wave of death did not leave his mind. The screaming haunted him, the eyes of his mother as she stretched her hand towards him, pleading to beg the guards to have compassion and to protect young Artyom's life.
"They can feel it, the dead are singing and they are loud." Khan voiced, his tone cruel and cold as if he knew more than he wanted to share.
"The pipes?" Artyom bid, not looking up as Khan started to prepare things to make a meal. The pot over the fire was already unclear, bubbles rising as the water was already cooking. It felt warm and he stretched his aching hands towards it, feeling the warm steam of it soothing his worry down.
"Sukharevskaya will have to perish, the darkness resolves and bears over, the singing will shift into chanting, and then the gas will circulate like the perdition beneath the underpasses, it will crack unrestricted and contaminate every compartment. Like a breathing being, the manufacturers will famish and their remains will be finalized into a cycle of cleansing." Khan disclosed, and he could not yank his eyes away from the illusionist.
"I am the Omen, and like white sheets that wave in the wind of the cruel fate that has settled here, I will tear them out and harbor them on me like a shepherd ushers his flock." Khan expressed, his eyes glowing in the orange light. Artyom wanted nothing more than to stand up and run. Run forever, into the darkness of the underpass, so quickly that he would even abandon his rifle. It was clear, that the inhabits of the station felt the exact, the energy that Khan brought into the already gloomy metro station was strong, like a dark thunderstorm circling them. The sparks of the fire flew in the air, causing him to flinch with tension. In the glow of the fireplace, he witnessed how Khan had posed up, both his hands arching into the air as if he was praying, his mouth agape as he roared.
"The Beacon is lit! A Numinous at its core! The Cyle has started!" Khan shouted, his tone so indifferent from his usual muttering. Maybe the mysterious man really was the incarnation of the renowned Khan.
"What Cycle?" Artyom whispered, unsure if he was allowed to interrupt his weird ritual.
"The Cycle is a logical consequence born from the right circumstances"
"It will and does threaten other realities," Khan stated low, the effect of the all-seeing mind ceasing down slowly.
Artyom gulped hard, with apprehension unsure what to do now. He just wanted to feel safe again but it was clear that the hardest part of his pursuit was still before him. Either with or without Khan by his flank. The fact that the man had mentioned other realities was making his head spin, was there somewhere one where the bombs had never struck their country, peace and comradery connecting them all, no longer their world filled with hatred and fear. He did not notice that everything had gone back to normal.
"Do what I tell you, kotyonok" Khan mumbled, his voice low as he dragged the knife across the sheet, cleaning it of the blood. A wet thud erupted as the man dropped the meat into the bowl, bubbles rising as it started to cook. It already smelled so satisfying, that Artyom couldn't do anything else but nod, eyeing the pot above the flame with hunger. If he was honest, he instantly would do everything that Khan would ask of him, just to get whatever he was cooking. The smell made him mouth water, and he could feel his stomach grumbling with protest, his appetite setting in.
"Someone is hungry huh? Help me. Then the process is faster and we can share our bond more" Khan stated, a whistle leaving his lips and Artyom eagerly took the cutting board with the mushrooms on top, setting it down on his lap. His hands were aching as he wrapped them around the handle, and he hissed in pain. Redrawing his hands he saw how torn open they were, the recoil of the rifle he had been operating had cut them open on multiple fingers. The flesh was so ripped like burns. Also stumbling around in the dark with Bourbon, which made him fall multiple times added to it. He could recall the darkness drowning everything, the rails of the metro digging into his clothes, his bleeding fingers aching as he dragged himself further, trying to escape the whispering noises and hissing of the pipes. Artyom looked up as he noticed that Khan was studying him, clicking his tongue he went back to preparing the meal.
Sometimes none of them spoke and he finally started to chop the mushrooms. The activity was relaxing for him, the motion of it already programmed into his movements. He sat up, sweeping the finished vegetables into the brewing pot. He smelled the metallic aroma of meat and other herbs and he gulped, not trying to droll.
The food was so satisfactory to Artyom, it felt like he was in heaven. Sure, if hell existed deep down, hidden under tons of rubel and earth? Heaven must also be a thing in here... or maybe it was stored inside of the bowl of remedy.
"Thank you... this is the first real meal since if left my home station" Artyom explained, wanting to show his gratitude towards Khan who smiled proudly.
"So... will you do something?" Khan questioned and Artyom stared at the dusty floor of the metro station, not feeling confident to even look him in the eyes. Khan's voice was so demanding, that it made him instinctively obey.
"What?" Artyom requested, being brave enough to look at the wizard. His blue eyes sparkled with something and he would be lying if he did not envy Khan's look. His beard was more than a prober length, hanging down from his chin with multiple accessories braided into it.
"Suddenly, I have to go, wait here" Khan stated and he got up, and walked away. He was not sure how to feel about that, being all alone in a station he had no idea where anything was... and the people here were not even interested in coming out of their hiding places, or that's what Artyom had thought. Right as Khan had left, vanishing into the depths of the darkness of the tunnel leading away from the station, sounds rattled around. With fear, Artyom grasped his rifle out of reflex. Years of being on guard at the first checkpoint had trained his senses but it was, as usual, a false alarm. More people emerged from their tents and carefully with afraid glances started to look around. Artyom sat there, perplexed staring at them. He was not sure if he should say something to them? He carefully tried to greet someone and they turned around startled. It was a young man, and from the clothes, he was wearing he was either a trader or a guard. Someone wandered extremely close to him, their bodies brushing each other, even in a persuasive manner, squeezing their hands together. With a soft smile, Artyom watched them, and he froze as he suddenly saw something that was not meant for his eyes. It felt worse than robbing Bourbon of his belongings... The two men who had been walking past the fireplace were kissing each other, whispering things into each other's ears, falling with affection into each other arms as if they just obtained one body. Usually, Artyom felt a ping of envy seeing couples, mostly younger people, trying new things out and falling in love. He had already noticed that more people had forgotten about the traditional family, and how it should have been... So seeing those two men act like a regular couple was unnatural, ending up rubbing his eyes to make certain he was seeing right.
The couple disappeared behind the dusty pillars of the huge station of Sukharevskaya. His eyes were still lingering to the spot they had been for a few seconds ago and he huffed irritated. He was not sure how to feel about it, but partly it made him excited?
He couldn't dwell on what emotion it was causing him, even making his palms sweaty as Khan appeared again. With a strong pat on his shoulder, the old wizard gestured for him to get prepared. Gathering up the backpack off the ground, he quickly strapped it, soothing the green wool jacket down with his hands, getting rid of the sweat.
"Our journey takes us further, like the infinite monkeys" Khan philosophized and Artyom tried not to even question his eccentric wording.
"Where were you?" He asked, taking the gun and holstering it to his shoulders. The skin on his palm was burning, the cuts giving him a dull aching pulse.
"I had to disappear for a reasonable cause, a big component of the universe and the human life... I took a piss" Khan informed with a smile, and Artyom nodded. He was still not sure how to even take any of the words the man was speaking seriously, but the energy behind every word was just too strong and confident to just simply believe them. Khan was a true-born leader, and Artyom still had to learn a lot to turn out like the illusionist.
"I saw... something" Artyom started to tell, not sure if he should even ask Khan about that topic, but he wanted to know more.
"What did the youthful Artyom see?" Khan bid, smiling with certainty as if he already understood it.
"I don't know how to...describe it? Two men? They were kissing each other" Artyom whispered, feeling his entire face flush with embarrassment. This just felt as bad as asking his stepfather how children were born and if really storks lowered them from the sky into the underpass system. That we won't ask Khan, he already knew that's not how babies were made.
"The kiss of comradery or... Love?" Khan requested, starting to look around if other people were around them.
"Love?"
"Ah, well what about it? It's like the universe, large and unobstructed, but nevertheless so complete of energy, and invariant if no fresh life can be formed that way... Is it truthfully against the macrocosm if it did not adjust together?" Khan questioned and Artyom just blinked dazed, earning a mumbled comment that he did not grasp.
"Huh?"
"They are in love. There is nothing more to say about it. Artyom isn't it good for them that they found each other?" Khan stated, and Artyom tried to wrap his head around that. Sure, he was not against it, more perplexed on why another man would fall in love with another. They didn't have any soft curves that were seen as attractive? But he would be lying if he did not find it somewhat augmenting.
"But-"
"Children? Even if they can't carry them into the energy-filled and twisted branch of our macrocosm, does that not mean they shouldn't? How considerable orphans do you see? They could have accumulated a home, does it have any difference from other family? The metro is unwinding and so are the ordinances of it, don't let the aged reasons take over"
He nodded, right if it made them happy and could even make children without anyone give a home, there was really nothing in his mind to object about it. It was even an interesting concept, he himself grew up just masculine figures in his life. What if there had been another one? Would have he turned out any different? He did not think so, it make him smile with appreciation.
"See it on the bright side—" Khan displayed, his hands stroking his braided beard that was hanging down from his chin. The tall man was walking ahead, his clothes, which were filled with beautiful patterns of tribalistic embroidery were waving as he moved.
Out of nowhere some man who had been hidden by a thin brown blanket, sitting on some destroyed cardboard suddenly moved. The man's dirty fingers grasped Khan's leg, pulling on the olive green pants the mysterious more senior was wearing.
"Please! Please Help!" the man crowed, his eyes glassy and red from lack of sleep. Artyom shuddered to see the condition he was in. He had already seen a few helpless souls in the Metro but it still ripped his heartstrings into a mess of cobwebs as he glanced toward the homeless person. Khan lowered his gaze, something cold and powerful flashing, and the men let go of him, whispering apologies to them.
"Alright... I'll try" Artyom scowled, his eyes still lingering on the man who had interrupted them. His torn clothes were revealing his thin frame and all the bumps on his skin.
"Ah, and here we have a prime example of the stupidity of the human race," Khan stated, his voice even filled with amusement as he pointed at all the merchants behind their counters.
"Uhh... why?" Artyom huffed, scratching his face, the skin on his chin feeling weird and covered in dirt.
"See" Khan exposed, giving the man who had absorbed him a warning kick, as he again tried to reach them with begging mumbles praying for his life.
"I mean see! Look around" Khan retold, his fingers pointing still towards the wooden mass of shops. It should have been filled with people, all coming streaming from each branch of the metro to buy and find the wonders of Sukharevskaya. But apparently, there was no such thing as a specialty for the station, no special mushroom tea, how they made them at VDNKh. Just a few beggars were sitting on the ground, torn clothes and rags covering their sick limbs. Sometimes the pipes of the metro let out a hiss and it made Artyom flinch with tension.
"Gravitational fields... They run through here, they are everywhere" Khan stated, walking around the wooden counters, his eyes fixated on the ceiling of the station, the old lights not shining.
"What?" Artyom asked confused, walking faster to reach up to Khan who was taking bigger steps than he did.
"I said, the universe flows with waves and energy! And to build this metro they used special physics, sounds of vibrations to see what tunnels were the most stable ones for the Cold war, the secret underpass where trains even today pass-through" Khan whispered, his voice again as if it wasn't his own and Artyom had no words as a reply. A secret underpass? He knew from his Stepfather that some tunnels were not explored yet, either broken, inaccessible, or shut off from the lines, to protect their people. The red had their territory split at the south side of the metro, the university laying there. It was unclear to him what exactly it was and according to the maps that Khan had insisted to keep? More tunnels were still ready to explore.
"What secret underpass?" Artyom asked, with haste looking around in hope that none of the Traders heard what they were talking about. With respect for fear bowing their head to the ground, not looking at them as they passed.
"That I cannot tell you, time will do that. Let the gravity flow of the cosmos into you and you will see" Khan stated, and Artyom just nodded, not comprehending what the man was telling.
"But what if it doesn't?" Artyom opposed, hoping that he did not enrage Khan with more questions, blinking at him. It felt like he had gone too far, what if Khan suddenly decided that he was not worth saving? What if Hunter was wrong about him? He just had a simple message and everyone could take it instead of him. Khan was more experienced, so Artyom thought if something happens now, he would worry about it later.
"I just don’t believe in coincidences. They aren't any, and everything occurs for a reason but don't dwell on my views, use your brain!" Khan stated.
"I sincerely doubt that." Artyom huffed irritated, driving his aching hands over his face. The stinging in his eyes was now the only thing he could sense. How many hours was he already awake? It was all a blur, and the constant low light in the Station was making his eyes even more droopy.
"Don't worry, it'll all make sense later." Khan laughed. His choice echoed through the entire station making its inhabitants peek out of their tents.
Remembering what he had seen ealier, he had more questions about it, and after a while he gathered his strength to ask Khan if loving another man was normal. But also recalling that somthing like had had been dangerous.
"But... wasn't the- the thing forbidden? " Artyom asked, unsure how to even word what he had witnessed.
"Technically, it's not illegal... Not anymore" Khan presented, his eyes darting into him and he felt nervous again. If it was not forbidden, why did he never seen it before? Artyom walked silently after Khan, who stopped at some shop. The taller man was busy inspecting the wares that were displaced on the counter. Sparkling, even glittering stones which hung on strings were covering the entire space, and Artyom would have left his mouth open in awe if he was not so busy thinking. Right as he wanted to ask Khan another question he did recall some of his friends being rather close to the other man working at the checkpoints. Both either showed up far too late, both looking as if they had sprinted a marathon and no one had questioned it. But now when he thought about it, it made his heart speed up with something new and unsettling. The nervous energy did not leave his limbs and he tried not to think about what the two had been doing when they always disappeared together. He even had introduce the other as his partner, but back then Artyom did not think anything of it but rather normal friendship.
"What's wrong Artyom? You look like you stepped out of a Sauna" Khan mused in, proudly holding the new object he apparently had purchased, clipping it to his belt to the other accessories that were decorating his outfit.
"I... Uhhh... Nothing" Artyom stumbled out, hoping that he did not look flustered, because that was the only emotion he could connect to what he was feeling.
"Ah yes, the youth from today..." Khan joked, slapping hard on Artyom's shoulder as he dragged him away from the trader who was staring at them weirded out.
"So... before we head out, take a rest. The mortal warrior needs rest and this is the only safe place you will come along in a very long time" Khan mused, throwing something in his direction, and he caught it. The cold metal hurt his fingers as he collapsed his hands around it mid-hair, with awe staring at the spare empty shells of a gun. Money, he was indeed in need of it, standing next to the marketplace did not help the urge to wander around and to get a look at the local materials the station was manufacturing. He had seen a few things of interest but out of consideration for Khan, he had not requested to stop as they had been trekking along the long tunnel.
"Thank you, Khan..." Artyom expressed, awkwardly bowing his head to the man and he earned a laugh.
"Meet me tomorrow at 4 in the morning, by then we will move, and don't waste time, it flows and the adaptation of percent of the universe of the energy will tell that we will walk next to each other without noticing. It is significant, especially here" Khan stated, his tone iron again but Artyom did not mind.
"Buy some gloves... And bandages, your hands look awful. Let the macrocosm be at clemency with you that you won't lose your fingers" Khan confessed, shaking his head and he walked away again. He felt a shudder as if the man just had frozen the air in the metro station and he started to look around. Some Traders had different wares and carefully this time paying attention to the wares they were selling, he walked past them. Many different things, from blankets, to pillows, were sold. At the other stand, fresh-smelling herbs and smoke was rising into the air. A windchime clung beautifully and it was like Artyom overlooked the stony atmosphere of Sukharevskaya.
With interest, he gripped a green book, the illustration on it already faded.
The title was in a different language so he plugged it back, taking another one. The other book was far more inspirational, the Time Machine by W.G. Wells but Artyom already has read it, so it was not something he wanted to purchase again. Seeing that the Trader was studying him, and the books he was inspecting, he lowered himself. After some time, and the loud noises of rambling were echoing around the man emerged from behind the counter again, handing something onto the wooden surface. Artyom held his breath, his eyes carefully inspecting the book as if he was afraid that he would break it. It was wrapped in plastic, the pages on the side already torn and frying. The once white book was faded, the illustrations on it in a light grey tone, but it felt like he was looking inside of a mirror. One Billion Years to the End of the World, it sparked something inside of him, and as if it held answers for his bizarre adventure he carefully grasped it, turning it over. Artyom was not sure what he had expected but the manuscript did not reveal a lot and told of something he had not expected.
"150 cartridges" The Trader stated, his voice even afraid and Artyom gulped, setting the book down again. He did not have the money for it, and maybe if he was lucky he might find the exact book once again in VDNKh.
"I'll pass" Artyom stated, giving the book a small shove, but not out of disrespect, it was a gentle gesture, and the Trader nodded with the arrangement.
"Your loss... but alright." The man stated and the weird tension of their trade hung in the air, and he excused himself. Wandering to the next stand which was especially filled with equipment might come in convenient later. With curious eyes, he started peeking around, not sure what half of the things were that he noticed. A weird-looking fabric, similar to raincoats separated into two pairs looked like a pair of socks. Artyom had no clue what they were for, or why they had both gaps on each end, not guarding feet if they were undoubtedly utilized as socks.
"Butyl rubber with melamine cyanurate, Military protective shoe covers used and made by the OZK" the Trader stated, and Artyom nodded with excitement.
"You may ask!" The trader stated proudly, his chest swelling as he raised his head and he gave a pat on the shoe covers.
"How did you get those?" Artyom questioned, never seeing anyone with such protective gear. Not even guards were wearing them.
"A woman never kisses and tells!" The trader joked, his laugh low and raspy and Artyom chuckled uncertainly, not understanding the joke.
"I got them from a Stalker, the man died a few months ago. It was even rumored his family had all been Liquidators!"
"But you know... rumors don't hold any truth, but it's good for business!" The trader continued, his expression wondering if he had grasped Artyom's attention.
"That's remarkable!" Artyom stuttered, already fearing the price of the gear. It would be practical to have something to protect his legs, but he was more in need of gloves.
"So... what can I do for you? Need anything specific?" The man asked, his light eyes squinting.
"I need something to protect my hands..." Artyom stated, with gloom showcasing his torn and bloodied fingers and palm and the Trader whistled.
"Tried to sneak into a station without being spotted? Don't worry, here at Sukharevskaya we don't judge, a lot of low lives had settled here, the station already being abandoned since no one can pass through here."
"So it's known that people disappear?" Artyom questioned and the Trader gave a grave nod.
"It is, and there's not a lot you can do about, waiting for a caravan to pass? Would take months, so we are all stuck here and the darkness? It's like it's watching us" The trader expressed and Artyom looked around worried, right they were unable to leave from here...
"So anyway, I don't want to scare away my only customer..." the Trader laughed and Artyom smiled at the older man, his chest filling with something like happiness.
"Here, I'd deal those for 30 cartridges, a little deal for your poor fingers" The Trader expressed, and Artyom could not feel even more grateful.
The gloves that the man had shoved more towards him were grey and already torn. The padding on the knuckles was clearly gone, just the normal fabric left behind. He did not mind, it was already better than having nothing! The leather had already a few spots of miscolored age but with exhilaration he took them, testing them. The leather felt rough on his skin, but it already made him feel more protected. He grasped the fabric by the end of the seam on the fingers, pulling it off. If getting out of gloves was as easy as getting inside of them, everything would be easier in life. The double palm protection was roughed up, but it would do. The piping at the end of the cuff was yellow. Artyom handed him the money, giving him a few oose cartridges as a gift.
"Thank you, I hope you enjoy Sukharevskaya as much as you can."
"Artyom there you are! The Echo of the Future told me you will find what you have sought, but don't forget to wrap your hands." Khan expressed his voice even sweet and gentle.
"The Echo of the Future?" Artyom requested, scratching his face, the leather fabric loudly echoing as it rubbed against the slight stubble that already started growing.
"Subconscious connection between all living creatures, like a ... hive of bees, collective subconscious of mankind." Khan represented and he felt like it made no sense to him but he could also not oppose the man's statement.
"With Extreme precision, you can hear it and even pull conjure parts of it out of the stream of the tide. In the Sea of Eventualities, only a few minutes' differences can change a lot" Khan expressed, nodding towards the Trader Artyom just had bought the gloves from. Some people, he didn't see before were walking around the wooden stand, aiming their rifles at the salesman, barking curses at him for thievery.
"Should we?" Artyom insisted, unsure if he should step in but Khan shook his head.
"That was fate, we got what we wanted, and now the sea of consequences will take the devil and its pawns, we are not part of their stream..." Khan stated and he nodded, too tired to even think about the meaning behind it.
The Psychologist handed him bandages. He did not waste a single second taking care of his body and carefully he started to bind them. Not even a second had passed as the bandages were already soaked in blood and he frowned with displeasure. Suddenly aware of the pain and exhaustion he was in, he was led by Khan to the empty tents.
"Sleep..." The man demanded, but it was not an order, more a suggestion as he held open the tent. Artyom nodded with agreement, mumbling something like thanks and he entered, shelving his jacket and boots off. The backpack and rifle he had been carrying around were set aside next to the sleeping bag and he sank down with relief. He was not sure how much time had passed but quickly his eyes fell close. The last thing he heard were the footsteps of Khan leaving.