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Autumn

Protiv Vsekh Tiranov - Against all Tyrants

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Autumn    121

23-05-2016

"Adal, bratr. Slava Yakor. It is good to see you." The camoflauge clad man spoke with a thick Russian accent, a salute given to the man clad in similar uniform. The other man drew down his Balaclava, revealing a face that appeared to be in his early 20's. In turn he saluted, replying in kind, bearing a Chernarussian accent. "Slava Yakor, Serzhánt Alexi.

"I trust the road did not give you too much trouble?" Alexi brought down his hand, resting it on the dust-cover of his AK pattern rifle. "No infected hopefully?" He jabbed with his words, as if looking for a little commendation for what he did, which was explained well before Adal arrived.

[align=left]"I must say, there are none deciding to take a bite out of the communication lines. You have done quite the job." Adal announced, moving closer to the other and turning to look off at the thick wire that ran towards a radio station off in the distance. "Assuming the infected are not much trouble this far up in the mountains?"

"Nyet, I get maybe a handful in a given week." Alexi paused, glancing over to Adal and blinking. "How is South Zagoria? How is home?"

An exhaled sigh told it all, but the young soldat added his own musings to it. "It is a shitshow, clowns, slavers, fascists, as if the world hadn't descended into madness enough.

"That... I'm sorry. I was told you were born there... Figured you may have a polished idea of what it is right now. Maybe ah... Rose colored glasses view..." 

"Da, I was born in South Zagoria, but it's a home that doesn't want me anymore. Hasn't since..." He stopped himself and coughed, albiet a little awkwardly. A silence ensued, only startled by the gentle spring breeze, rustling branches reciprocating with their own sound. Before long, Adal fabricated a question to fill it, the awkward silence that had long filled the conversation. "So why the sudden need for back-up here? All the way up at this radio station?"

Relieved, Alexi laughed and patted his stomach. "Ah Kapitán Winter didn't tell you? The radio operator is getting married back in Yakor. So we gave him two months to get that out of the way. You'll be back with your group once he's back."

"A bit much for getting married? Doesn't he only need a day?"

Alexi laughed out, smacking Adal on the shoulder and gesturing him to follow. "Ahhhh I knew I would like you, come on. I've got Kompot and food inside the station."

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Autumn    121

"Kompot eh? It's been a good long while since I've had some Alexi." Adal ducked into the radio station first, setting his bag down beside the door and clasped his hands together. The radio station itself wasn't exactly something to write home about. But it screamed personality, posters were hung up, miscellaneous junk, trophies and clutter to make something that was seen as uniform and lifeless, rather the opposite.

A loud whistle emitted from Adal's pursed lips, Alexi following in behind and closing the door, almost as if a ritual, he stuck his rifle in an umbrella rack, the stock first and barrel being pressed up against one of the consoles for support so that it wouldn't fall over. "I make the best Kompot this side of South Zagoria. I can promise you that Adal." He gestured with his finger and rolled up his sleeves, revealing mangled forearms that look like they had been through several jungles of barbed wire. "I put apricots, blueberries, cherries and raspberries in there. Pair it with a stiff drink to counteract the high from the sugar and you will sleep like a baby!" It was clear the man was proud of himself, he wore his pride like a badge of honor that at a glance couldn't be tarnished, couldn't be besmirched.

"I'm willing to believe that Alexi. But first, let's see what I'm working with in terms of a transmitter." Adal appeared stoic, a little more focused on what he was supposed to be doing here rather than finding out Alexi's famous Kompot recipe that no doubt was similar to most Eastern Europeans.

"Alright, c'mon." Alexi replied, going over to a rather big console that had clearly seen better days. It's dials and numbers lighting up signified that they had power, albeit not to run it at full power but enough for it to receive and transmit semi-intelligible transmissions. "This is what you are going to be working with. It's a piece of shit, constantly goes out and frankly we'd do well to have another generator hooked up to it to double the power and output." Alexi slapped his hand on the metal side with a loud 'Clang!'. "But it works, I suppose that is all we could really ask for."

"No need to tell me it's a piece of shit, I can see that. When's the last time the wiring was checked in the building itself? Perhaps rats chewed through some of the cables? The place probably was used half to hell at some point." Adal moved an empty mug over to his left and hunched over the console, looking over each of the sliders and not touching them. If this thing truly was on the frits, how it was now worked.

"Nyet, I haven't, orders from Yakor not to tamper with the radio station as it's one of our few lines of communication to the South Zagorian region as well as the surrounding areas."

"What is the point of being in contact if they can barely hear you?"

"Adal, I do not make the rules, maybe you go pay a visit to Yakorgrad and tell them. 'We need new wiring for radio tower Yuka-03.' Maybe they might tell you not to piss off and to 'just follow orders'." Alexi peeled away from the console and went to a cooking pot full of Kompot, with a ladle he ferried some out into two glasses and asked Adal who was fiddling with the console. "Vodka or nyet?"

"Hm?" He peaked up, glancing over at the man holding two glasses. "Nyet, I'll take watch tonight in-case we get some unwelcome visitors.

"Fair enough." Alexi replied, bringing up a bottle of clear liquid that had a duct-taped label, bearing the word Vodka, as if it was written by some child. Splashing his drink the rest of the way full with it, he brought both over to Adal and handed him the one without the liquor in it and muttered. "To your health." Raising his soon after in a toast.

"And to yours."

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