Marco quickly cleared the perimeter of the building with her flashlight and stepped inside through the casing of what used to be a large window. Sergio joined her as she was pointing her rifle down the deep pit of the escalators. Determining that the area was safe, she settled her rifle into the leather strap on the side of her rucksack and turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks.
“I’m following your lead now.” She admitted with a serious expression. “If you want to put on your other vest, that might help.”
Sergio began to remove his rucksack and heed her advice, not fully understanding what she was implying, but hoping she would continue explaining as he changed uniforms.
“Just tell them you were sent as a diplomat to the Baumanskaya Alliance and had to return on the surface due to Madrid and Losla.” She crossed her arms as she talked and watched him as he removed his Brotherhoodn armor from his pack. Obviously she had put a good amount of thought into the story they were going to tell to the guards inside. Sergio now wondered what Baumanskaya was like and if Marco had ever been there.
“Anything else?” He asked tentatively, wondering what the rest of her plan was, or what type of other questions they may be asked inside.
“Just keep it simple.” Marco shrugged and then she began to reach in her pocket for something.
Sergio carefully replaced his borrowed armor with his black vest from D6, placing the former into his rucksack along with his weapon. It felt comforting to have something of his own on again, even if it didn’t quite match with the rest of his outfit.
“What about you?” He made a vague gesture about her clothing and she gave a shrug. He wasn’t sure if it was only because he had interjected, but she adjusted the long sides of her heavy brown cape behind her shoulders so that her slim figure was easily observed.
“I suppose… nobody sees me most of the time. I think it’s because, in general, women aren’t seen as a threat.” She put a hand on one hip, waiting for him to finish.
“In general…” He echoed, repeating what she said rather than making an implication. He had seen firsthand how formidable she was in a variety of situations and knew her statement to be false. Taking his passport from his back pocket, he descended the escalators carefully with Marco in tow.
There was a sign at the bottom instructing them to knock in a certain way to let the inhabitants know that they were humans wishing to enter. Sergio did as the sign said and after a long pause a red flashing light came on, followed by the familiar sound of the motorized hermetic doors unsealing. He was glad to be going back underground, glad that their difficult day was almost at an end. He certainly would have been lost after leaving Madrid were it not for the knowledge that Roten Spaten had amassed on current traversable routes.
“Who goes there?” A man called to them when the door had slid back far enough to see out of.
“I’m a Hunter from the Brotherhoodn Order.” Sergio untucked his dog tags from his shirt and brandished his passport. “Passing through to get back to Polis.”
The guard took a few steps back, beckoning them inside so that the door could be closed again. Two other men flanked him at the back wall, one manning a large machine gun mounted on a metal stand and the other stood by a small table with a radio spitting out static. It seemed a small strange to Sergio that the machine gun hadn’t been aimed towards to outer door, but back into the main vestibule.
Removing the visor of his helmet, he took a breath of the cold air and looked back at Marco to give her an appreciative smile. She removed her own gas mask, moved a few strands of her hair back into place, and smiled back at him more warmly than usual. It was perceptible to him that she felt the same way as he did.
“What brings you this way, Hunter?” The guard asked with a look of genuine interest. Sergio recognized that they must be members of the local militia, as they were wearing different uniforms than the regular Red Line soldiers and were much more pleasant too.
“I was sent as a diplomat to Baumanskaya.” Sergio quickly glanced over at Marco as if to confirm that he was saying the right thing, she nodded just once. “But Sicily is restricting travel due to the incident at Madrid.”
“What a right mess, there! Bandits and crime, sure, but there’s hardly ever an open shooting going on in a residential station.” The guard looked gravely over at the radio operator and then turned his attention towards Marco and smiled widely. “So, who is your beautiful companion there?”
“She’s… my… uh—” Sergio stammered, looking over at her for answers, but she only smiled sweetly back at him and remained quiet. He was irritated by her silence and confused, and it showed.
“Haha! It’s alright; you don’t have to say it. We get it.” The man laughed, eliciting the other two guards into a chuckle.
Sergio was sure that his face had turned bright red once he understood their inference. Marco, however, remained complacent and in fact took a step closer so that she was able to take hold of his arm, somewhat leaning into him.
“So, m-may we pass?” Sergio asked awkwardly, trying halfway through the sentence to sound authoritative.
“You can go ahead into the station, but you won’t be able to get through to the Red Line until tomorrow.” The guard turned his head back to them and fell serious and straight. “It’s already closed now, plus there’s a cordon for outside visitors that restricts free transit. There’s an area for travelers down the platform to the right before the market.”
There was nothing to do but agree to the conditions and go inside the station. Sergio walked alongside Marco, letting her guide him, as his mind was consumed by how irritated he was at that entire exchange. From the insinuations of the guards and no input from her to deter them, to having to wait overnight in order to keep travelling. He felt his head getting hot and removed his helmet entirely with a huff. Looking over at her confirmed that she was still smiling innocently and her arm was still wrapped around his.
“What was all that about?” He blurted angrily, his head still feeling warm and foggy with frustration.
“Hey, it worked didn’t it?” Marco distanced herself slightly, looking up at him with her brows furrowed. “Besides, you couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.”
Sergio was stunned silent by her statement; his mind suddenly stopped its rant of grievances and switched to disbelief. He had momentarily forgotten that his companion was female, as up until now he had only seen her as a revolutionist soldier – and a force to be reckoned with at that. Nothing even remotely reaching the possibly of romance had crossed his mind about her, yet here she was, strolling alongside him with arms linked as if they were a couple walking out from their marriage vows – or so he’d heard about from others. He felt his face flush and took to looking straight ahead of them, walking more rigidly, his heartbeat now palpably throbbing in his chest.
“So we’ll find ourselves a tent at the hotel and see about getting something to eat. I’m starved, aren’t you? Those old IRP crackers can’t feed you forever you know.” Marco snickered, referring to the field rations he had been snacking on as they headed out from Avtozavodskaya that morning.
“Sure, yeah.” He managed to squeak out in reply, his head now a jumbled mess of hypothetical questions and doubtful answers that he could barely discern and could certainly never share with her.
He spent the next hour on autopilot, now actually thankful for the fact that she liked to lead him around when they walked, not to mention grateful for the positive mood she had gained. She had procured them some smoked sausage and a large portion of mushrooms, along with a few grams of tea. For two new magazines of rifle ammunition she traded two bars of soap that were surely the kind made at Avtozavodskaya. The merchant had looked skeptical of her but apparently recognized the value in the quality of the product. Besides their purchases at the market, they also stopped at a small bar near the hotel and sat down to order some porridge.