Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20160208023602/@comment-25828117-20160218020445

17 years ago.

Budapest

Ivan stood at the far end of the first platform of Keleti railway station. It was out of sight and away from the main building. A haphazard 'improvement' of the cities workers party comittee had elongated it so that longer carriages would fit in the station. Trans-Siberian expresses that were supposed to connect the united socialist peoples of the socialist states across the globe. You could get on board in Vladivostok and get off, weeks later, in East-Berlin. Budapest was merely a transition station.

Still, in a communist world the idea is there... and usually that's it. The money and commitment came later, after the meek handshakes and drawn-out signing of documents. It's no secret the station was improved with Soviet Union funds, as much as the Socialist Republic of Hungary tries to declare itself a sovereign state, it's quite obviously under firm control of Russia. Not directly, mind you, so no russian soldiers; (the revolt was decades ago). But economically.

Ivan Jankovics considered these flaws in the system challenges. Flaws that, given time, would be streamlined out. He wasn't stupid. He knew of the corruption in Budapest, let alone Moscow or Prague. But neither was he blind to the two-facedness of the west. The enemy, if you like.

Snow started to fall, although the Hungarian capital wasn't nearly as cold as Moscow on a good day, tonight it proved quite chilling.

A smirk crossed his face as a single flake fell on the burning end of his cigarette. A habit he would have to kick soon.

But as quickly as the smirk appeared, it disappeared just as fast when the train from Moscow came riding into the station, with proper notification merely seconds later as the bemondó called out on the intercom. The announcement echoed through the cathedral-like halls out into the extra platforms where Ivan had so casually planted himself against a closed newspaper kiosk.

Steam escaped from the locomotive's wheels, warmly hissing the fresh snow away. Declaring the proper arrival after which the doors flung open and the passengers from the east trickled out one by one, keeping to the code of formality that came with getting off and on a train.

Despite the smog and dirt that had gotten to stick against the brown windows of the carriages, Ivan could make out some passengers that kept seated, or lied down. They would sleep on board probably.

The young Hungarian sighed and checked his watch. It was time for him to leave Budapest for good. A long journey waited ahead of him: A night train to Berlin, where he'd meet his contact with whom he'll cross the curtain. Ride to Belgium, stowaway on a ferry across the channel where they'd get new IDs and take the next plane to the United States.

Where his new live would begin.