Two and a Half Years before 2033 - End of Year 2030

"How We First Met" – Expansion Pack

Sitting in the very darkest corner of the bustling restaurant with his back to the wall, the rugged Stalker carefully observed the people around him. There were several tall tables set up around the room, and not a single one was left empty. At many places in the room, people stood with their drinks in hand, as the population of the place proved to be more than there were chairs available.

Eating his supper of pork with mushrooms quickly, he glanced at his watch to check the time. He liked to go to different places in between patrols, as there was always something going on and always an opportunity to gather intelligence. Things in the stations, especially those of the Greater Metro, changed swiftly, and the Stalker had lately been particularly interested in the current state of affairs between the warring bandit clans. From Novokuznetskaya to Kitai-Gorod, there were no less than four different factions of organized criminals who were constantly plotting their next scheme. Although the Stalker had never bothered to involve himself in their plans or strike against them, he had taken up eavesdropping on the lesser bosses as somewhat of a hobby; perhaps also every now and then giving an anonymous tip to a rival clan, just for his own entertainment.

Tonight, there was definitely the pressing sense that something interesting would be happening at any moment, and so he cast his wary gaze at the crowd once more. This is when he spotted it; the building arrangement for a potentially lively display, a private performance for him to revel in. His senses never failed him. Amongst the usual disheveled and scrawny men with shaved heads and embellished pigskin jackets, there was a young woman wandering about the room in a leisurely manner. She wore a long patchwork dress under a dark gray jacket, which upon closer inspection seemed to be refashioned from an old military sweater to fit her slim figure perfectly. Her long reddish brown hair fell around her pale pink face like the picture frame on a masterpiece and although he had at first noticed her for her unusual presence, he was halted by her beauty.

Without question, the loudest table of men was sitting near this girl; they had been laughing and drinking heartily even before the Stalker had entered the establishment. From their outward appearance he could identify that they were members of the leading party of this station, and obviously enjoyed their free time without interference. Two of the men seemed to be boasting about some recent conquest, although he hadn't heard what their gains entailed. The others at the table praised and goaded them on, giving a noisy toast and slamming their mugs together.

This was the setup that would prove eventful. The Stalker quickly downed the rest of his tea in anticipation, not wanting to miss a moment once it had begun.

"Ey krasotka, why don't you come over here and sit with us, huh?" A stout man with a double chin cackled lustily to the girl, slapping his knee as if to invite her to sit on it and taking a swig of brew that then dripped from the corners of his mouth and into his beard.

"Do I look like a common whore to you?" The girl spoke in a crystal voice and sported a fierce glare, standing up straight and squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight.

"Not common, no! Definitely easier on the eyes than those career girls in Venice." The man guffawed again, his buddies joining him and slamming their mugs together in another toast. "But every one of you females has a price."

The stout man narrowed his eyes and his smile faded, he seemed to be staring her down, like a challenge. The Stalker was watching carefully for the girl's reaction, finding his grip had tightened on the edge of the plywood table. For a moment, he thought the girl might strike, or possibly even cry and run off to her tent to get her father or brother to settle the score. But she remained firmly rooted in place, her expression softened a bit and she took a step forward so the stout man could hear her as she began to speak again in a low voice.

"Alright then, we can make a deal." She showed a mischievous smile.

The Stalker was surprised by her statement but for the wrong reasons, he was sure that he had sensed something different about her, yet she had given in so easily. He sighed, sinking back against the wall and folding his hands together to rest his head against.

"Haha! I told you!" He toasted with his buddies once more. "Ten bullets? Twenty?"

"Your life." She spoke flatly, narrowing her eyes.

The Stalker perked his head up sharply and didn't take his eyes off her again, completely bewildered by her response.

"What the fuck kind of deal is that?" The stout man immediately flew into a rage, not wanting to be made a fool of.

"You heard me. I will go in that room over there with you, for whatever you like… but afterwards, I get to slit your fat throat." She spoke with distaste, nearly spitting as she laid out her terms.

The Stalker couldn't believe his ears. Was she simply toying with the man? Or did she truly have a blood lusting price for her services? Who would ever take her up on such an offer? Surely she wasn't serious. This girl didn't look like the sort who would sell themselves to any useless scum that turned up at the local bar. No, this one was far too clean and sharp-witted, he thought, but what was her game?

"Just what the fuck are you on about, bitch?" The man slammed his hand on the table, his friends looking angrier by the minute and each was heckling their supposed leader to teach her a lesson.

"Not worth it to you? No matter." She turned to walk off with a contented smile, waving the man away with her hand.

"Hold on a minute!" The man yelled angrily, standing up abruptly and reaching inside his jacket, assumedly for a weapon.

The Stalker flinched, getting to his feet instantly and reaching for his Stechkin. But there was no chance for him to intervene, as the girl proved to be more agile than anyone could have guessed. Just as the stout man with the beard was pulling out his gun, she slid one foot backwards and turned her body around, closing the distance between them and twisting his arm outwards with one hand. The swift but powerful motion forced him to release the grip on his pistol and she managed to catch it with her free hand and point it back at him with perfect form in a matter of seconds.

"Change your mind already?" She said in a sing-song voice, giving an unsettling smile as she clicked off the safety.

"Uhh, uhh! Fuck!" The fat bandit murmured as his friends swiftly abandoned him at the table. "Let's get out of here!" He yelled as he wriggled his wrist from her grip and turned to run after his companions, stumbling over another group of people at an adjacent table as the alcohol had stolen away his balance. Knocking over a chair on his way out of the enclosure, silence prevailed in the small place for several minutes. The other patrons in the bar weren't sure if they should applaud the girl or go running off in the same manner. Each inhabitant eyed this nimble girl warily, trying to judge her temperament as she looked over her prize with pride.

The Stalker was completely astounded, sinking back into his chair for one bewildered moment and examining her movements as she strolled away without a care, carrying her new weapon carefully with both hands and ejecting the clip to count the ammunition left inside. He replayed the event in his mind, and only now was asking himself why he'd been ready to come to her rescue at all. After a few seconds in awed silence, he quickly gathered his knapsack and helmet and went after her into the station.

Just a few meters straight ahead he spotted her amongst the crowd, walking away at that same leisurely pace and he rushed after her with hastened steps. That had been the answer to his inklings! It wasn't the event itself that astonished him, but now he understood that it was the girl that had piqued his intuition.

"That was well done, girl." He spoke softly, so as not to startle or provoke her as he caught up alongside.

"I am not a girl." She grumbled, not looking over at him.

"No, for certain. You are a fully grown and deadly woman." He paused, trying to recover himself but unsure how to proceed. Anything he could find out about her would satisfy his curiosity about such a magnificent performance. Where had she learned to move like that? "You are clearly not one of them, either. So, where is it you are from?"

"As if it's any of your business…" She scoffed.

"Listen," he began, drawing up in front of her and forcing her to stop, but then not fully knowing what he intended to say next. He suddenly really wanted to get to know her, understand her mind and motivations. But how could he possibly explain everything he needed to in just a few captivating sentences to hold her attention so she wouldn't overlook him? "You can put those talents of yours to better use. Make a name for yourself."

"I already have a name." She didn't hesitate to give him a smart retort.

"And what might that be?" He replied smoothly, finding the source of his charm once more.

She glanced sideways at him; a look of distrust was expressed as she had only just been berated by another man seconds ago. But as her eyes met his inquisitive stare, her expression relaxed and she halted in her tracks. His overwhelming energy emanated outwards, surrounding her, and she could no longer resist his questions.

"Aleksandrya." It was as if she had succumbed to a truth serum, her smoky gray eyes still locked with his icy blue ones, and she spoke very softly and clearly. "Aleksandrya Adrianovna Dmitriyev."

"It's nice to meet you, Aleksandrya. I am called Hunter." He found himself smiling and tried with difficulty to remain stern.

"That's not a real name." She furrowed her delicately sculpted brows.

"It's a title, I suppose… and my profession." He placed a hand over his heart to express his sincerity.

"I'm not interested in titles, or what you do to earn a living." Managing to break his spell, she brushed him away and continued along the vestibule.

The stalker was completely halted, bewildered by the fact that his charisma alone was not enough to hold her attention. Grown men and soldiers of all ranks balked at his presence, and yet this young woman found him uninteresting and unintimidating. Finding that he actually wanted to tell her his real name so she wouldn't walk away, he struggled for the words. It had been so long that he had gone by Hunter that he almost didn't remember.

"Ivan!" He called loudly, making several people in the area including Aleksandrya stop short. Striding over to where she stood staring at him in disbelief, he dared to put a hand on her shoulder so she couldn't run off again. "My name is Ivan… Antonovich… Zaytsev." He spilled out the names slowly and reluctantly.

"Zaytsev?" She raised an eyebrow. "Like… Vasily Zaytsev? The sniper?"

He gave one quick nod, not wanting to admit his link to the famous Soviet historical figure; that aspect of his background was not up for discussion at the moment.

"What exactly do you want?" She sighed softly, not as if she was annoyed but realizing that now she was ensnared. Although her expression was dejected, her eyes proved to him that she was fascinated by him, especially as she was now taking note of his uniform and arsenal.

"I want to help you." He shook his head, that wasn't really the answer. "I want to know where you learned to do that kind of stunt. If you're already that adept, then I want to teach you what I know, and show you what I do."

"And why would I want to do what you do?" She asked tentatively, leaning onto her toes in wait for the answer and cocking her head slightly.

"You're still not convinced?" His expression now turned serious, as he had tired of her reluctant acceptance. In his heart he understood people through their most slight changes in expression or demeanor, and she was more than interested in his proposition. "Tell me, what exactly brought you to the bar this evening? You neither ate, or drank, or talked to anyone at all before that asshole bothered you."

She attempted to hide her surprised and fearful face by turning her head away from him, but he would have none of it; turning her head back in his direction with a hand that seemed so big compared to her, he forced her to look into his piercing blue eyes.

"Either you've come to cause trouble on someone else's orders, or you are well on your way to becoming what I already am. We are one and the same, Aleksandrya Adrianovna. So, what do you say to that?" He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her reply and confirmation, exerting every ounce of his invisible willpower into her through his grip on her delicate face.

Aleksandrya spoke not a single word, but nodded her head slowly. Taking in the entire image of the strapping Stalker with her widened eyes, she tried to guess how many battles had made him the threateningly massive and hardened figure that he was. She could faintly feel his pulse from his fingers, and was lulled into a rhythm that aligned with his aura.

"Good. Now, come with me." Slipping his grasp from her pale pink face to her dainty wrist, he led her into the tunnel and away from the station. She did nothing to protest or prevent him.

After being guided down the rest of the crowded platform reluctantly, with little variation in the Stalker's pace, the girl decided to try to slow him down with further conversation. If she could hear him speak more, perhaps she could convince herself that she wasn't being led away to her death in some abandoned hallway where he could easily just wring her neck without effort and this station would forget all about her. There was a cautious feeling inside her stomach, only it wasn't based in fear but in curiosity. She doubted even her own reasoning that this rugged soldier was hauling her away for ransom, or worse, and instead spent the next few strides trying to figure out what she could about him.

"What is Sparta?" She asked innocently, still trying to absorb every detail about his arsenal. The official name of the Order was printed on his uniform and helmet along with a logo depicting a stylized red letter M and a white skull.

"What is—? You seriously don't know about the Polis Rangers?" He jerked his head back for a moment, but did not stop walking and did not let up on his moderate grip around her wrist. "The Spartan Order is a neutral force, for the protection of the entire Metro and its people."

"I have heard of the Order, but I've never met a Ranger before. I suppose rumors give precedence to legends." She said cryptically, wriggling under his grasp to try to communicate that she would still follow if he let go.

Hunter wasn't quite sure what she meant by that but the strange comment didn't deter him from his forward momentum. He wasn't about to let her go before he could fully explore in his own mind exactly what his intentions were, and in any case he didn't want to risk her getting bored of him again and wandering off. He almost chuckled to himself at the incredulity of the recent memory – she had nearly just walked away from him completely unimpressed and for the first time in forever he had struggled to make conversation, was it just because he didn't normally talk to women so casually? Barking orders and reporting about a mission was easy, but conversations with the opposite sex required more finesse than he was used to. And she was unusually strong-willed, which had made it all the more difficult to convince her just to listen.

But now he most definitely had her attention, as she kept up with his brisk pace and asked him more about himself. He tried to consider how he was going to answer, how he was going to project himself, as she was sure to have more detailed questions about his profession and his intentions in dragging her out of the station alone. But that was just it; alone. He had become so accustomed to being alone most of the time, though there were missions where he commanded a squad or platoon for a larger operation or for diplomatic purposes, the majority of his missions were done solo. It had just been easier that way, faster and more efficient, as he found he had little need for rest or other such recovery periods. Staying more than a day or two in his small room at the Smolenskaya Spartan base even for sleep or injuries made him feel uncomfortably lazy, and he always had an anxious sense that the Metro would somehow succumb to devilish forces if he was not out in the tunnels or at the very least keeping a watch somewhere. But it wasn't entirely that he wanted to be alone, there had just never been anyone who could keep up with his pace or enthusiasm for long enough to warrant taking on a specific partner.

"I want to know if you can clarify something for me." She spoke the question which shook him from his thoughts but it was more of a straightforward demand if he'd ever heard one. Not exactly in the mood for small talk before they reached a secluded destination, he grunted a reply, not knowing if she'd take the hint. "What kind of creatures do you hunt? ...or do you mean people?" She tried to slow him down, her arm straightening out in protest but he did not let up.

A moment of silence passed without the Stalker so much as turning his head in her direction.

"Your name? Hunter? Your profession, you said?" She prodded.

"What if I give you this time to think about it and then take a guess? Don't speak again until I tell you to." He looked back at her momentarily to get his point across, still not releasing her, although he wasn't holding her very tightly.

She squeaked out a sort of indignant huff, implying that she wasn't happy with his intonation but would oblige his demand.

Through a dark side passage in the northern tunnel and up a flight of stairs into a series of corridors and service rooms he led her into a specific opening that curved around into a sort of outpost. There was a bedroll here, a radio that was currently turned off, a lantern already lit, and some makeshift furniture where he plopped her down before turning away and began rummaging in a metal trunk in the corner.

She continued to size him up with her eyes, sweeping over every detail of his outfit and his demeanor. He hadn't given her his permission to continue talking but he had let go of her and turned away; and what did she really need his authorization for anyway? She had a right to know her supposed captor, or at least get some kind of explanation as to his strange name and profession.

"You're a shadow man. Not just some stalker, some soldier, but this right here is what you do. You wait in a dark corner for the right moment. I saw you sitting in the back of the bar by yourself." She began, slowly at first, unsure of herself, and also not wanting her words to come across as insulting somehow, because she still didn't know exactly what he was capable of or what he wanted from her.

Hunter turned his head towards her and his narrowed eyes gave away that she was on to something.

"I don't think it has to do with animals at all, and not really people either." She spoke more confidently, knowing she had his attention piqued.

"Not really?" He replied with an eyebrow raised, as if egging her on before he turned back and kept digging in the chest.

"No. Only if they cross your path." She leaned forward with her hands gripping the corners of the bench she sat on. "Or catch your attention." She mused in a gentler voice, referring to herself.

He turned his head once more, this time giving away nothing but a wary glance, though she took it to mean that she was correct. Perhaps her feminine charms weren't exactly lost on this man, though it was obvious that lust was not his primary motive for approaching her. Still, he was rather attractive and somehow charming, though not in the typical fashion that she was used to when other men made conversation with her. This one was on some sort of mission, she thought, and it didn't even really have to do with her, but there was some greater purpose to his existence which she didn't quite understand yet. She took a deep breath and studied him as he swayed slightly in his search; he wore a black and blue camouflage uniform that she had never seen anywhere else before, a thick bulletproof vest and shoulder pauldrons. Pouches and accessories hung all over his torso: grenades, a small orange medical case, two large sheathed knives, a shortwave radio, a map case, and a holster strap around his shoulders which carried a huge pistol. His helmet was a really fancy model, the kind with a gas mask built right into the visor. She had never seen anyone even half as impressive as this man before.

"I think it's something like... when there's a threat – you find it. Not just for your Rangers but anywhere. You travel so far from Polis that you aren't just a guard… hm, but you are too young to be from the regular military before the end of the world." Aleks paused, wondering just how old this stranger actually was. He couldn't have been any older than forty, which would have given him too little time to have been in the army before the bombs rained down on Moscow twenty years ago. No, he was entirely comfortable in the Metro and knew how to operate on his own. There were no uniformed ranks of multiple men like this as she had seen at the Victory Day parade in Red Square when she was a little girl - he was unique. "No, I think it's like a watcher, a vigilante, if something goes wrong then you find a way to fix it."

Hunter was completely silent and still, he had stopped ruffling the items in the trunk and sat back on his heels and took a breath.

"It seems you're ahead of the curve. You can already sense…" He said in a low voice without turning around. "Yes, girl, a vigilante."

"My name is Aleks." She insisted loudly, getting to her feet and planting them firmly, determined this time to have his full attention.

"Not Sasha like other girls named…? No, right, it's Alexandria like the ancient city in Egypt. How interesting." He mused aloud, and stood up to his full height with some sort of catalogue in his hands.

"Yes. My father named me for his love of mythology and the great library that contained all the world's knowledge. But only my mother calls me Sasha." She crossed her arms. "And I want to be treated like an equal, not a little helpless girl - Sasha sounds too soft."

"So your mother is alive, then? I would have guessed you for an orphan, to be living in a place like this and toying with bandits for fun." Hunter tried to change his expression from the amused banter into something similar to concern, but it just went flat as he considered the answer to his own question. He was going to have to get to know her, and quickly, as he didn't have much time before he was due back at Polis to report in and he wasn't sure when he might travel this way, or if he'd be able to find her again.

"I don't want to talk about it." Aleks said quietly, glancing down at the floor and away from his direction as he approached her closer. "Why do you care anyway? You don't even use your name…"

"Never mind about me, this is about you. And I was not the one causing a scene in the bar. So you have no choice but to tell me. See, in order for this relationship to work, we must be able to share secrets. There must be trust. No fear, no lying. We exchange secrets and stories until there is no one else to tell them to. Let's say it's like quantum entanglement." His tall and well-built frame loomed over her, casting a strange shadow on the wall behind him that seemed to amplify the sense of tension. What had she gotten herself into?

"Relationship? Entanglement?" She looked at him sideways, and seeming to accept the terms she continued. "Then what's your secret?"

"I told you one already. Besides you, only one other man alive knows my real name. I don't use it for anything anymore, that world is gone anyway." He seemed to gaze through her, perhaps imagining his life before the war.

"Zaytsev?" She remembered aloud, "You're what, his grandson or something? Is that right, Ivan Antonovich?" She teased him seriously, hoping to get more of a reward with her questions.

He nearly cringed at the name, but somehow liked the way this girl said it without fear.

"And where is your mother then, Sashenka? Back in Chinatown working in the kitchens of that bar? Did I distract you from a family operation of stealing guns from bandits?" Hunter teased her back, that playful smile pulling at the corners of his mouth again. Why did he find this banter so amusing? Could he even remember smiling over anything else recently?

"She's back at home… in Reich." Aleks glanced away again, not wanting to get caught in his gaze which could draw out her deepest thoughts.

"Trust." He said quietly as he reached out and put one of his strong hands on her shoulder which seemed so tiny by comparison, his light blue eyes widened and then his face relaxed, not showing force, but emanating a sense of calm that made her feel at ease – injecting her with that truth serum again.

"She lives in Darwin station… Tverskaya, with my stupid step-father." She said angrily, crossing her arms and trying with difficulty to not to look him in the eyes as frustrated tears welled in her own. The pain of the memory was still too fresh to not get emotional.

"Not a good man I take it?" He cocked an eyebrow, relaxing his hold on her now that she had begun to open up.

"That depends what you think of Der Führer." Aleks stared straight back at him, her eyes seemed to burn with fire but really it was just the reflection from the lantern.

His stunned reaction gave her leave to sit back down uncomfortably as his hand fell from her and he sank into his own seat across from her. Had he just unknowingly kidnapped the Führer's step-daughter? But then what was she doing in Kitai-Gorod? Had she run away from Reich on her own, or had she been excommunicated?

"Yes, I know what you'll ask next, I ran away." She spoke up after he hadn't given his opinion of the leader of the Fourth Reich stations and he could swear that she was reading his mind. "I escaped actually, with my friend - Andrei. He was a security officer, but after his wife died in childbirth he agreed to help me. We left Darwin station together, that was about half a year ago, and I haven't looked back since then. Fuck the fascists, and my stupid mother for marrying one - the worst one."

"I imagine they are looking for you then?" Hunter looked up at her, but she had turned her gaze to the floor again. Any hint she could give to her refugee status would help him construct his plans on what to do next. He wasn't keen on leaving Aleks where he'd found her, as those bandits were sure to seek revenge once sober, and now the Nazis were drawn into the mix. He quickly tried to come up with ideas, where could she relocate that would be relatively safe and also accessible for him to visit whenever he could spare time between assignments?

"Yes. At first Andrei and I went to the Red Line, but at that time they had an extradition policy and we didn't want to take our chances with all the snitching going on. Hanza has a similar agreement with Reich, and it's impossible to get the kind of documents they want, so that was out." Aleks shrugged her shoulders, sitting back down as she calmly explained herself. She untangled her arms and had begun gesturing with them.

"And how did you come to Kitai-Gorod?" Hunter sat up straight, now fully invested in hearing her history.

"We had to lie about our identities to the Reds to get to the next station down the line, through Theatre, and then we bargained our way to Venice by way of a trade caravan. Venice didn't have room for any new residents, so we ended up here." Aleks crossed her arms almost defensively, as if trying to figure out how this Ranger was able to get all of this information to come pouring out of her. She wrinkled her nose as she had wrapped up her account of her escape, eyeing Hunter suspiciously. "Why do you want to know all this?"

"And so you live here with this Andrei now? As a security guard I'm sure he can protect you?" Hunter leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Of course, just as he has been all along. He's more like my real father than that pretender could ever hope to be. He's the one who taught me to shoot and fight hand to hand." Aleks gazed off towards the door, forgetting about her concern for his motives. That answer also satisfied his question about where she had learned her swift movements.

"Well that answers that," He nodded to himself, "Though you'll need to be careful for a while in case those criminals recognize you. You should change your appearance." Hunter gestured to her outfit.

"And what's wrong with my appearance?" She shot her head like a whip in his direction.

"Nothing's wrong..." He tried to hide a smile, even from himself, not wanting to admit that her beauty was part of what enticed him to speak to her. "It's just, a tactic. Understand? For me, I don't need to hide who I am; I can settle my own business. But for you, as of now, you're a target. You need to learn how to disappear, and that will be your first lesson."

"Disappear? Like abra-fucking-cadabra?" She said sarcastically. "What lesson?"

"It's about how you act." He attempted to calm her with a hand stretched out flat. "You ever heard the term 'laying low'? Well it's like this, do what you can to look different, stay at home and don't take risks. Assume that everyone is out to get you, that's how you survive."

"So how am I supposed to act in the presence of strange and threatening men?" She jabbed at him with a playful twist at the corner of her lips which got him to glance away awkwardly. "I've survived so far, and without your advice even. How do you explain that?"

"Do you know anything about that pistol you filched?" Hunter changed the subject entirely, not wanting to walk down that particular track with her, as it might compromise their own arrangement if she were to over think his advice. It was time for more practical discussion, what else did she know about combat? About defense, and weapons, and strategy?

"What about it? It doesn't matter what it is, I was just going to sell it. I have my own gun already." Without hesitation she gathered up her patchwork skirt, exposing her long milky white legs which terminated in a worn pair of combat boots which were a size too large. To his further surprise, there was a thick fabric strap tied around one thigh. She had an immaculate Makarov handgun with a Metro-made silencer pressed against her, revealing it to him for only a few seconds before returning it to the hidden location. She looked up in time to catch his staggered expression before challenging him with her eyes and her next few words. "You don't think I'd walk into a bar full of bandits unarmed, do you? I'm not stupid."

"Well, no, I suppose—" Hunter coughed awkwardly and tried to hide his flushed face with the back of his hand, desperate to hook back onto the train of thought he had lost before her intimate revelation. It suddenly felt very warm in the small room. "Anyways, I was going to start by teaching you about some weapons specifications. Do you know much about your Makarov?"

"It takes nine by eighteen ammunition of the same name, the standard sidearm of our police and military forces even though they tried to replace it a few years back." Aleks gently patted at the weapon under her skirt, and moved to pick up the stolen pistol from beside her.

"And have you gotten much practice with it?" Hunter asked, impressed enough with her response.

"Not on… live targets, you mean?" Aleks asked ominously, trying not to give anything away.

"Whichever." Hunter growled coldly.

"Yes." She confirmed non-specifically, narrowing her eyes to his indifference.

"Fair enough, you have my confidence thus far. I only aim to expand your knowledge." Hunter stretched his eyebrows up and then unfurled the volume that had been clutched in his hand this whole time. "I want you to study this until I see you again, remember as much as you can – especially about any of the firearms you've already seen or used. Got that?"

"A catalogue? Okay." Aleks accepted the thick magazine from his outstretched hand, already beginning to flip through its pages in search of a model similar to the new one in her possession. "So, you're leaving?"

"Yes, I have to get back to Polis by tonight." He checked his wristwatch briefly and then looked back over at her, "I may not return for some time, but meanwhile I will see if I can find somewhere else for you and your Andrei to go to. It isn't safe here for people such as yourself. Between the Slovenians and the Muslims… no, it's better that you don't stay here for too much longer. This damned station is turning into a powder keg, and soon they'll have segregation and puritanical standards the same as your fascists."

"You want us to move? But where would we go?" Aleks looked up with fear in her eyes, not understanding why this stranger was so invested in her safety. "I don't even have my old passport anymore; I burned it after we got free of the Red Line, so nobody could trace it back."

"You let me worry about that, documents, everything. I have connections." The Stalker got to his feet swiftly and adjusted the rucksack straps on his shoulders before walking away slowly. "Now come on, I'll escort you back to your tent or wherever and while you are waiting for me, you won't go anywhere or take any risks. Do you promise?"

"But—Just wait, one minute, please." Aleks demanded, although in a timid voice as she stood up from the bench.

Hunter stopped short and turned around even though he was already past the frame of the door. He cocked his head with interest and prayed to whatever god that cared, hoping that she wasn't about to refute everything they had discussed.

"Why are you doing this? Who are you, really?" She clutched her stolen pistol and the catalogue tightly in her hands, as if ready to defend herself with the items if he made any sudden moves.

"I don't really know why," He mumbled, thinking out loud with a sigh. Then he settled down on the thought and spoke more clearly. "We're supposed to protect people, and no matter how agile you are, someone like you doesn't belong here. And in your situation - well, you're more than just a refugee. You need diplomatic asylum."

"But what does that even mean?" Aleks remained rooted to the spot, dropping her hands slightly but not breaking her fearful gaze. "You don't know anything about me at all."

"I wouldn't know how to explain it exactly. I just sense… that you need my help and I can't ignore that feeling. I don't always decide where I'm needed, you know. It's like you said, waiting in the shadows for the right moment." He looked down at the floor, almost ashamed of his next statement and not knowing if she would ever understand it. "And you… you remind me of myself, somehow, and… I didn't think there was anyone else like me. And well, we are both alone, aren't we? But not anymore. As I said, we are one and the same, Aleksandrya Adrianovna. So what do you say?"

After a long pregnant pause during which the Stalker was trying not to breathe or move a muscle so he wouldn't miss her response, Aleks softened her worried expression and smiled.

"Alright, Ivan Antonovich, I promise I won't go anywhere."

Hunter didn't even flinch at the name, from her lips it sounded warm and comforting and he returned her smile, feeling a strange and unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

He gestured towards the hallway, which bade her to follow him back to the station, and he didn't have to drag her this time. She followed along behind him complacently and quietly, and he could feel her gaze sweeping across his back intermittently.

"Don't come back down this way looking for me, I won't be returning here again until I've found a suitable place for you to relocate to. And don't tell anyone else about this, about me, they wouldn't believe you anyway. If you want to inform your Andrei about the situation, just exercise caution when doing so, and tell him he has nothing to fear from me – you don't, alright? My job is to protect people – 'If not we, then who?' That's what the Spartan Order is for." He glanced back at her to make sure she had heard everything.

"I understand." Aleks almost sang the confirmation, taking in his words with reverence as if they were a holy gospel and nodding her head the whole time.

He led the whole way back to the station platform and then stopped, allowing her to take the lead towards her domicile which was situated between the oddly-shaped geometric columns in the eastern hall. The low square arches were spaced narrowly and frequently, leaving just enough space between each for a small apartment and much of the main hall floor space available for community activities. She stopped at one of these apartments mid-way down the platform and cautiously put her ear to the door. Hunter looked at her puzzlingly before understanding that she was trying to determine if her security guard friend was at home or not. The slight nod of her head gave away that he was not there.

"I'll go in and change my clothes right away, like you said." She began in an uncertain voice, not knowing how to say goodbye in this strange circumstance.

"You'll do just fine; after all you've survived all this time without my advice." He teased with a smirk, mimicking her insult from earlier.

"Sorry," she stifled a laugh and covered her mouth with the hand that was holding the catalogue. She was instantly forgiven in his mind.

"And let me have that pistol before I go; it's a P-96M by the way, not worth too much in that condition but I'll trade you for it anyway – save you the trouble." Hunter unsnapped a canvas pouch on the front of his armor and took out a full clip of cartridges and held it out to her.

"Are you sure—?" Aleks reluctantly made the trade only because she understood that he was giving her far more cartridges than the pistol was worth but not comprehending why. "I don't want to be in your debt."

"Think of it as my appreciation for tonight's entertainment. Really, I'm in your debt. Anyway, I've already got more than enough for myself," he gestured to his remaining arsenal with a sly look. "Now go inside, and don't go out again until you've changed clothes and spoken to this Andrei."

"Andrei Ivanovich. I won't. Thanks." She confirmed everything with a single nod, leaning her hand on the door pull and not wanting to look away from him. "Bye, then."

"We will speak again soon." He said warmly, taking one last moment to look into her eyes, the color of a rain cloud, and then turned sharply to the left and disappeared amongst the crowd on the platform.

Aleks quietly slipped inside and latched the door closed, diving immediately onto the lower bunk in the small enclosure and sprawling out her limbs. She breathed heavily for a few minutes, suddenly overwhelmed with all the energy and emotions she had just cycled through, and bewildered as to the kind of strange transaction that had just taken place with the handsome Ranger known as Hunter.

Less than an hour ago, her life looked completely different; boring and dismal, and hard to imagine much success or happiness in it within the confines of Kitai-Gorod station. Suffering and running in exile from one station to another, she was hesitant to pick up and move again – but the Stalker had made some good points about the politically charged atmosphere at the dual-platformed Kitai-Gorod. Steadily being broken into halves by two headstrong bandit clans of differing ideologies, she had done her best to stay out of their way and attempt to portray herself as a simple working girl. She did shifts in the kitchens and tended the meager farm plots in the tunnel that was not used for railcars with the other women in the station, but she certainly didn't aspire to stay here and complete busywork for the rest of her life.

Thus, she had begun to use the very same skills she had learned in order to make her escape from Reich to escape her dreary daily routine. The performance that Hunter had witnessed this evening was only the fifth or so attempt she had made to hoodwink the haughty bandits and nick some sort of prize off them. Normally she would stealthily take something off their person when they were distracted or passed out drunk – this had been the first time she had used her tactics openly, nearly wrestling with that stout ugly man to save her own skin before he could shoot her. She hadn't wanted to admit any of this to the Stalker of course, who seemed to have such confidence in her; and her heart had been perpetually pounding against her chest throughout the entire exchange, both with the bandits and then with Hunter.

But in that little room, her life had taken a new and completely unexpected turn. Now before her there was a light, shining in all its obscure possibility. A strapping hero on a white steed had come to rescue her from the tower she was imprisoned in. But no, it wasn't really like that, and she knew that fairytales were not real. Her father used to read her those kinds of stories, himself a worldly man who studied literature and history in addition to chemistry which was his main profession. She had asked him to read her those childish fairytale books over and over again at bedtime, sometimes the same story three times in one night, before asking him if those things would ever happen to her someday. He had politely indulged her fantasy, but always encouraged her to make her own path in the world and not wait for any princes. Well, even so, she hadn't been waiting for anyone – he had simply shown up on his own, by some astronomical chance, immediately taking notice of her and implanting himself into her narrative without reserve. Maybe he had just known how much she needed someone like him? He had specifically said that he could sense that she needed help, but how could he have seen through everything?

The explicit details about the enigmatic Stalker were overwhelming her senses, and so she decided to put it all aside for the time being and try to figure out how she would explain her new acquaintance to Andrei Ivanovich. A stoic and straight-forward man, who had been chief of residential security back in Darwin station, Andrei would most certainly want as many details as she could give. But how in the world could she make any of it sound believable without starting to doubt even herself? The echo of all of his words rang like a haunting and crazy dream that she was vividly remembering after waking up. A Polis Ranger had appeared as if by magic and within the hour not only proposed some kind of partnership to her, but also stated with firm intent that she and Andrei needed to move away from Kitai-Gorod to somewhere safer - and that he would take care of it all. But where was even considered 'safe' in the Metro? Besides Polis and maybe Hanza, which seemed like completely unattainable destinations for even someone of Hunter's caliber to secure, there weren't too many independent stations within the Koltsevaya line. She didn't like the idea of living in some outlying collective farm station, and what did this Ranger expect her to do day-to-day when he wasn't around, anyway?

And Hunter – could she trust what he had said when he at last revealed his motivations to her? Could she believe any of it at all? Had it just been hopeful nonsense when he said that she reminded him of himself? That they were at all similar? How could anyone possibly make a comparison like that – a turbulent runaway girl from arguably one of the most infamous families in the Greater Metro was the same as a brave warrior from Polis who was burdened with the noble defense of those who could not protect themselves? The idea was absurd, but just as soon as she had chucked it out of her head, she began to understand that he didn't mean that they were alike by way of titles. Hunter must have meant something deeper than superficial attributes when he stated that she was like him; cunning, rebellious, maybe even a little reckless. And lonely. But was he really alone when he had the entire Spartan Order behind him? Or was he some kind of rogue operative who didn't align with the rest of that force? She didn't know enough about the Order or this one Ranger to hazard that guess, but she had immediately pinned Hunter as a lone wolf and he hadn't denied it. And besides, even if you belonged to a whole unit, a whole community, one can certainly still feel very alone. She knew that herself from experience which is why she had ended up here in the first place, and suddenly she felt sorry for him. Maybe he didn't always like roaming between stations to carry out justice on his own? And this partnership he kept speaking of – was he looking for some kind of companion? And if so, then what kind exactly?

Suddenly the latch of the door clicked as someone tried to open it from the outside, and Aleks shot up with a harsh tone ringing in her ears, panicking because she hadn't kept her promise about changing her clothes right away. What if it was Hunter coming back to double check and he had heard all of her crazy thoughts? Or worse, it was that scumbag bandit who had sobered up and figured out her identity, come to collect his pistol which she had already given away. She knew she didn't stand a chance in an actual fight against him or his posse.

"Aleks, you up? I'm back from watch." Andrei Ivanovich's gruff voice funneled through the cracks of the wooden planks.

Aleks deflated, comfortably relieved, trying to calm her heart and mind enough to reply to him and open the door.

"Yes, Andrei, I'm coming." She got up to unhook the latch, suddenly feeling very excited and grinning, "And I have something very important to tell you about!"