Inga's answer was about what Viktor anticipated. Life and death in the lands above their heads was harsh, short and bloody and filled with pain. When the environment itself was something that could viciously maul you, if not outright kill you, easy living was but a tale of older times that seemed more like myth than history to most. From the hunt to their arrival at the tunnels, everything seemed to be going wrong one way or another. The harvesters, torn apart by some unseen beasts. A pack of demons, giving chase to an already-undersupplied group. A stranger, dead in their care leaving an abandoned pet behind. Two others that had followed them, only to leave as soon as they entered town.<br/><br/>It was all a bit much even for him, given that the string of misfortunes all came on the same day. The effect it must have all had on an unaccustomed child was surely worse. Viktor didn't have to guess what 'gone' meant when Inga referred to her parents. If they weren't dead, as he anticipated they'd be from the phrasing, they were likely met with an even worse fate. That in mind, he refrained from asking for clarification. Setting the poor kid off even more was something he'd prefer to avoid.<br/><br/>A vibration and ringing noise drew his attention to a left side pocket on his vest's collection of pouches and holsters. He very gently set the dog in his arms down next to him, and the small creature walked its way over to Inga and sat down by her foot. A small paw waved haphazardly around her shin, until it eventually came to a rest atop her shoe, accompanied by an upward look and another tiny near-squeak of a whine.<br/><br/>With a weary sigh, Viktor shifted position so he was standing, undoing the clasp on the pouch on his way up. His PDA had stopped alerting him by then, but the screen clearly displayed a message icon in the upper right corner when it was pulled out readied for use. He opened it with a tap of the finger, reading what was inside the electronic note.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Red,<br/>Got some trouble moving in from out west. Come back to base soon as you can. Give us location and we'll send a ride for you. The situation looks bad and we need all our veterans here.<br/>Stay safe,<br/>Coach</span><br/><br/>Viktor began to type a response, pausing before he gave his answer to look at both Inga and Liliana. He considered the others as well, though given how eager they were to take off, he wondered if they would return at all or stay gone like the others. Just in case, he assumed the first, and replied.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Coach,<br/>In the Underbelly. NW Moscow. Got some others to take home, need supplies and shelter. Bring an extra car or two. PS you owe me a drink. Bears were in a pack this morning. Told you something was up.<br/>See you soon,<br/>Red</span><br/><br/>Turning off the PDA's screen once more to conserve the charge, he put it back in his pouch and sealed it off. "Maybe we can go somewhere else. I work at a place that's got food and medicine. We could get the doctor to help out with your head." Illnesses, whether mutagenic or not, were dangerous out in the wild with no medical supplies. Viktor couldn't do much but offer the help of an accomplice, though said help was far beyond what one could get from an average wasteland field medic. "There are walls and a lot of people there. It's safe," He paused momentarily, reconsidering the last word. "Safer than this, at least."<br/><br/>Giving Inga some time to consider the offer, he turned into the door they had been situated by, walking inside the awful-smelling room. The scent hit him like a fist to the stomach, and he visibly cringed. While it likely was not nearly as bad without the source of the stench present, an air of pestilence hung onto the dressings left behind and the blanket used to give him some measure of comfort before his passing. At first wordlessly, he lended a hand in cleaning up, putting things back into their appropriate boxes. About halfway through the stacking of a few of the scattered supplies inside a box, he spoke up.<br/><br/>"Got someone coming for me. Should be around by sunrise tomorrow. Headed out of town, got a place set up in a warehouse a bit out west. You're welcome to tag along, if you want." The top of the box he was cleaning up was closed, and he stacked it among the others he'd taken care of.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Stefan considered Mikhail's inquiry, thinking audibly. "Mmm. Not too long from here, we were nearly there already. Maybe sixteen and a half kilometers. Quite a walk from the little outpost we came from, but it's just about over with." Teleporting a bit would have been an attractive option if not for its side effects, and the complications of leaving the rest of the group behind. A walk did well enough. Less chance of injury.<br/><br/>Said walk required a bit of time. Over the course of the journey, the guards lightened up somewhat. The initial anger of having their entire reason for taking a trip ruined passed well enough, and Stefan kept up smalltalk with Mikhail and whoever else wanted to join to pass time a little faster. He proved to be very friendly and knowledgeable about local flora, and took the occasional stop to gather samples of particularly nice-looking blooms that poked out through the snow on the ground, stowing them away in an inner pocket of his coat.<br/><br/>After a while, they came upon a tall concrete wall lined with outward-hanging fencing, barbed wire wrapped around each metal bar for extra protection. A walkway topped the wall, currently being used by a pair of armed guards. The group's approach was a signal enough, Stefan's garb an unmistakable identifier. One guard whistled, and within the walls, someone pulled a lever to open the gate. The group entered, and Stefan directed them towards one of the interior buildings, the warehouse. Before the gates shut, a trio of trucks started up and drove out onto a snowy road leading away from the base.<br/><br/>The first room of the warehouse, which had been sectioned off into various small rooms to make use of the building's very spacious interior, was used as a general leisure area. A bar was set up on the furthest wall, and various furniture (most of it hand-carved and quite simple) decorated the room. Stefan's squad of guards immediately broke up, each taking off in whatever direction their intended goal was. Stefan himself rolled his shoulders, and looked back towards Mikhail.<br/><br/>"Go ahead and make yourself at home, but I could use a bit of assistance later in my office, if you'd be so kind." He started off towards a door to the left, which led to a hallway linked to a variety of rooms.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Elsewhere among the tunnels, a woman in a hooded coat with a bow on her back sat alone at a counter, idly eating a square piece of some flat, dense excuse for bread. While basic, it was more filling than a lot of things one could find out in the wild, and kept itself well enough that she decided to stock up on a stack of it for the road. She'd finished about three fourths of the bread when she heard a quiet woof next to her. Her head turned, and she was met with the sight of an absolutely gigantic dog sitting next to her.<br/><br/>They exchanged a momentary silent stare, until the dog woofed again. She responded with a simple "Hello." After taking one last bite of her bread, she held the remaining corner out to him. Once the dog took it, she lightly patted the top of his head. It was nice to see an animal that wasn't trying to tear her apart for once. She imagined it must have been someone's pet to be allowed to run about without attacking anybody. With the bread finished off, she got off her seat and adjusted her backpack, leaving the building she'd purchased the bread at behind.<br/><br/>Away she walked, stopping at the sound of a scuffle nearby. A man's voice, one of apparent anger, cut off by the sound of impact. A woman cursed not too long afterward, and she decided to investigate. On her approach, she reached under the flap of her coat and took hold on the pistol holstered underneath it, flicking the safety off with her thumb so she could pull the slide back to chamber a bullet. Soon enough, she found the source of the sounds, a man with a knife and an injured woman.<br/><br/>"What's going on here?" She demanded in a firm voice, pointing her gun at the larger, less injured of the two. Her aim was locked on his midsection, and her finger moved from a resting position under the slide to a firing-ready place in front of her weapon's trigger.