Samuel Adams Gaiden
by Oculus
Featuring Art by KMEB, EmotionalSupportfluffy, Renaissance, Mangoalie, Mutagen & Fwuffee
~The Russian & His Fluffy~
“OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT”
As their third compatriot falls into the chasm of the void, Greg and the Russian called out in vain.
“COMRADE!”
“OH FUCK!”
Desperate to save him, Greg was the first to suggest a plan.
“Find a hose! A rope! Something?!”
“Idiot pig-hamster. What good hose would do here?!”
“We got to throw a line in there! Maybe it just a ho-”
Before the fluffy can finish his sentence, the door slams on both of them. The Russian and Greg bang hard on the door, with the Russian kicking it as hard as it can. After a few tries, they manage to break down the door, only to find an emptied room, with a cradle and a few toys in it.
“The fuck is going on?”
The Russian stares at the room, before he gives the best advice that he could to the fluffy.
“Greg, friend, we must go.”
“Go? But we can’t just leave him there!”
The Russian is always moving on straight for the debris. Greg, in frustration, yells out to him, “The fuck is wrong with you?! You can’t just abandon him!”
The Russian turns towards the intelligent fluffy. He brings his mask-obscured face up to the fluffy, and raises his finger, as he retorts, "No! You listen, Greg!
He lived so that we find Metro! And we close to Metro! Its what friend would have wanted! We find Metro first."
The Russian then places his hand on the shoulder of the intelligent fluffy, his closest companion for the longest time, in an attempt to reassure him.
“I believe you. Friend is not dead. But now not good time. We must find Metro! Then, after we find safety, we try find for friend again.”
Seeing the truth in the Russian’s words, Greg accepts the circumstance.
“You’re right. I just hope he’s safe, wherever he is.”
~
It has been about 24 hours since the disappearance of the third member of their party. The Russian and Greg have been relying on an old map that Greg had found in the house. The Map was an English Guide to the Eateries and Gas outlets that a traveller could rely while in the city of Stalingrad. It, however, also served as a very basic map of the city, and, more importantly, gave the location of the city’s Metro stations. From what the Russian remembered, the majority of the survivors retreated to this metro, and attempted to restart civilization beneath the irradiated landscape of the city above. This, however, led to a nagging question at the back of Greg’s mind. The Russian seemed to know a lot about the Metro, and the brave Stalkers who defend it, but, he didn’t not seem to know its location.
That night, over a campfire, the Russian explained.
“Well Comrade Greg, I was from Metro. It is how I got gasmask and protection suit.”
“So I was right. You ARE a stalker of the Metro.”
The Russian shrugs.
“Da, I am stalker, but stalker of Metro? Not sure, comrade. All I know is, I’m supposed to back there.”
“Then how did you get lost in the first place?”
“I don’t remember, comrade. The last thing I remember was waking to nothing. It was in recent travels that I slowly remember Metro.”
Ah, amnesia, that convenient devil. Greg can now guess that the Russian was most likely a stalker from the Metro, who braved the frontier of the irradiated surface, but received a concussion and lost his memory. Now, he has to find his way home in the Metro. It was now Greg’s turn to give the Russian an reassuring word.
“I read the map, and I know where the Metro is. And we’ll get there. Hopefully, when you’re there, you’ll get your memory back. And maybe even find your family again.”
“Da. I hope so too, comrade.”
~
It has been two full days. The Russian and Greg have reached the location of what should be the surface entrance to the Avtovo station in Stalingrad.
But the only thing to greet them there is rubble.
“Of course. Nothing left. Nothing left in stupid city.”
“I don’t understand. The map clearly said this would be the entrance to one of the Metro stations.”
“Oh shut up, pig-hamster! There nothing! NOTHING!”
In his frustration, the Russian picks up a rock. Aiming it at the door of a nearby ruined building, and with the full power of his anger, he hurls the rock at the door.
The rock does not damage to the door. However, electrical sparks start appearing around the door, something that Greg notices first.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
Greg points his hoof at the door. Visible electric currents and sparks crowd and illuminate the otherwise dormant door.
“Hide.”
Upon the Russian’s command, both Greg and the Russian hide behind the nearest rubble, as the sparks around the door become brighter until,
BAM!
The door opens, to reveal a man, clad in a trench coat, tactical pants, and army boots. By his side is a fluffy with a device. They don’t seem hostile, but the Russian is not sure. In hushed whispers, he beckons to Greg.
“Go talk to them, pig hamster.”
“Why me? Why not you?!”
"You english good, Greg. Go on. Shoo! Shoo!”
Greg scampers to the front. Feeling a little trepidated, he puts on a brave face, and makes contact.
“H-hello?”
The man smiles, and responds with a gentle “Hello there? Have you seen-”
And Samuel Adams gives him a rough description of what you look and sound like. However, because you had been wearing a gas mask when you first met the Russian and Greg, they are not sure what you look or sound like exactly.
“I’m not sure,” bemoans Greg, “I think we did meet your friend, but he went missing a few days ago.”
“I see.”
Samuel Adams beckons to his Squeakyfriend fluffy, Joseph, to follow him. As Sam and Joseph walk away, the Russian comes out of hiding
“What with them?”
Greg shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. They said they’re looking for someone.”
The Russian looks around the area. Then, he remembers. A vestigial memory of youth, a time when he could play freely in the streets of Stalingrad, compels him to remember that around here, there was… a supermarket! Thats it! And a few other eateries! He remembered eating one of his last good meals here before the war broke out!
“Greg! I remember this is good place for food!”
~
“We’ve been here for three hours. Can we just go? There’s nothing here.”
The Russian has been digging through the piles of debris, but he has found nothing. However, the Slavic warrior remains determined. ( >>29921 )
“Nyet! I knowings it of be here. I can of smellings it! Last cans of buckwheat in Stalingrad! You sees we eatings good now!”
“Great…”
Greg is visibly annoyed. However, before he can voice further dissatisfaction, there is the sensation of a little tremor.
“Do you hear that?”
Ripples start appearing in the puddle nearby. Soft ripples, then harder.
~
The Giant Monster lies dead, thanks to the intervention of the Supe Fluff from the dimension of the Hasbio Sam. The Stalkers of the Freedom Faction of the Petrograd Metro cheer, as the behemoth that would have destroyed all their years of hard work in rebuilding society beneath the rubble, was successfully defeated.
However, you will not be able to join in the celebration.
“Comrade! What wrong in head?”
“Laddie? LADDIE!!”
As you collapse on the floor, Samuel Adams rushes and checks your pulse.
“Whats wrong with him?” inquires both the Russian and Greg.
Sam tries to explain the best he can. “He crossed too many realities. He’s suffering from sensory overload. He will experience memory loss, as well as potential schizophrenia if he stays here any further.”
As he says this, a man comes up to Sam and you. Dressed in an exoskeleton of sorts, with a well-ventilated breathing apparatus, the best that the scientists of the Metro can create, he introduces himself to Sam.
"Privyet. I am Arkady, but you may call me ‘Red’. I am the Leader of the Free Stalkers of Petrograd.
I understand your friend was the one who sent great fluffy to defeat Giant Monster?"
Sam nods in acknowledgement. “He was.”
“Then he’s a hero!” laughs Arkady boisterously. “We must honour the Saviour of Petrograd with good celebration!”
“I’m afraid there’s no time for that. I need to take my friend home.”
“Home?”
“We don’t belong here. We actually came from a distant land. And we must return to it soon.”
Arkady, in his jubilation, is hesitant to grant this request. But having met enough wandering heroes who do a great deed, then depart with little wish for fanfare, he accepts the decision.
“I understand. But we at the Metro will always have you in our gratitude.”
Sam carries you all the way until he can find a door, safe from the prying eyes of the stalkers. Joseph quickly rubs the door, allowing it to teleport it back to your home reality.
~
While this is going on, Arkady recognizes the Russian.
“Boris! It has been too long, friend.”
“Boris?” asks Greg.
The Russian looks at Arkady. He feels like the name, Boris, should be familiar to him. But, and for some reason, nothing is jogging the depths of his lost memory.
“I am not sure if I’m Boris person you lookings for.”
Arkady’s happiness has dimmed a little, as he asks, “Do you remember anything, Boris?”
Greg intervenes, trying his best to explain. “He has amnesia, Red. When I met him, he mentioned that he knew about the Metro, but he forgot where it was located, and how he got lost. I have spent the past month or so following him, until we managed to track the location of the Metro.”
Arkady’s smile returns. "Then you did good, noble fluff. Boris here is one of my finest men, and like a literal brother. For the longest time, I thought I lost him to the savagery of the surface. But Boris has returned to me now.
For your service, you too are a hero of Metro. You are welcome to live in our halls."
~
~Renaissance & Mangoalie~
“So what can you tell me about KMEBs?”
You are walking with Sam, having just seen the baseball game with Suzy, the blue KMEB fluffy. ( >>4858 )
“Well, not much. I know that KMEB fluffies were some of the earliest breeds of fluffies made. There are KMEB fluffies that can fall into both the Type 1 and Type 2, ( >>4869 ) so it made trying to understand them a bit hard. It also didn’t help that they were released by Hasbio-”
“-for only four months.”
You’re taken aback. You didn’t know that you possessed this knowledge before.
“How did I know that?”
"Ah yes - this is one of the effects of too much travel between realities. You will experience memory loss, but after a while, the memories will come back to you, but only if there’s a trigger. And it looks like I triggered one.
Let us try another. One of the hallmarks of the Mutagen breed-"
“-is that they have a lot of empathy.”
“So you do remember some of the things I was telling you about when we reached your house!”
“I guess I do,” you smirk.
The abandoned Mangoalie family (Artist:Mangoalie)
As you say this, Sam and you pass by an alleyway. You see a woman opening a tin of dog food and placing it on a plate for a feral mare to eat. Near her, within the box, her foals are fast asleep.
The fluffies feel familiar to you. And then, the memory comes back.
~
“Was none of that real? Did it never happen”
"No, it was very real. It did happen.
The concept of a fluffy society, whether it is a Fluffytown, or a Fluffy City, is not new. Sometimes, it is man-made, and fluffies are placed through it, often for insidious reasons. The more interesting times, though, are when the fluffies built it for themselves."
“What kind of fluffies built that city? I don’t think I’ve seen that type of fluffy before.”
Farming area of the Fluffy Metropolis (Artist: Mangoalie)
“Those were Mangoalies,” explains Sam. “Very recent breed, and very rare. Only a few were released to the public. However, its creator had demonstrated that one of the more advanced abilities of the Mangoalie was to form a sort of fluffy society. We had not really seen this behaviour except in KMEB and Renaissance fluffies. In the case Renaissance fluffies, though, the Fluffy Town was created for them, so it was a lot more remarkable that KMEB and Mangoalie fluffies could evolve to such a state that they could create their own fluffy society.” ( >>1139 , >>1687 , >>51689 )
Sam snaps his fingers, and a screen appears behind him.
The screen narrates the rather sad story of a fluffy stallion who fell in love with a mare. However, he had gotten involved in an accident, having broken his leg. Upon recovery, he returned home, only to find out that the mare he fell in love with had moved on and was now mating with another stallion. Feeling broken-hearted, he willingly involved himself in another accident. ( >>47250 )
Upon snapping his fingers again, the screen disappears.
“Poor fella.”
“If it had been any other stallion, he wouldn’t have been phased. But there’s a level of empathy and cognition that fluffies slowly have been able to develop. What we saw as toys ended up slowly developing an intelligence that we tried to limit but couldn’t keep in check. The cities that some of them created espouse this.”
(As you try to recall the memory, you are unsure if the Hasbio Sam talked about the Renaissance fluffies first, or the Mutagen fluffies.)
“The fluffy that you saw was of the Renaissance breed. They’re named after a Hasbio engineer who was unhappy with how fluffies were being made and wanted to make a difference.” ( >>42978 )
“What happened to her?”
“She quit. She felt disillusioned with how the company turned out, and after she saw what happened to criticisms ladled on the fairly young Mangoalie breed, she decided to quit altogether.”
“She seemed fairly attached to the Mangoalie breed.”
"She was.
You see, in our reality, she herself was behind a project to see which fluffy colour group, or ‘tribe’, as she calls them, would survive a series of trials. She created an elaborate Fluffy Town and put a lot of fluffies through them. In the end, the ‘orange’ tribe lived, while the other tribes died."
“That is horrible.”
“It was. As with many of the other scientists we have at Hasbio. But, unlike some others, there was an occasional softness to her heart. And I think, when she saw the fluffy city that the Mangoalie fluffies built for themselves at Hasbio, she had admiration both for their creator, as well as the fluffies. Its why she left - I think she grew a little uncomfortable with what she had become or involved with.”
“That seems to be happening a lot with your Hasbio staff.”
“Indeed. I even wonder what happened to Mangoalie - last I saw him in this reality, he was working on a fluffy hedgehog.” ( >>53011 )
~
Upon remembering the additional information that the Hasbio Sam had presented, along with the KMEB fluffies, you realize what type of fluffy was living in that cardboard box
“Thats a Mangoalie.”
Sam is a bit taken aback by your familiarity with the breed.
“I’m surprised you know. They’re a very rare breed, not many know about them, and I wasn’t planning to cover it.”
As Sam says this, and while this Mangoalie was a feral, you see a fluffy with intelligence and potential, provided it was given a chance to flourish.
You turn to Sam, and ask him, “Do you think Joe has a space in his shelter?”
“I suppose I could ask him.”
You go up to the Mangoalie mare. She looks up to you, while chewing her food, and says those familiar lines.
“Hewwo kind mistah. Be nyu daddeh?”
You shake your head. “No, but I can find you nummies and a nice housie for mummah and babbehs.”
The trip to Joe’s didn’t take long. And while he was full for the current moment, he did have one spare bed for a fluffy, but only for a day - an owner was coming in to have their fluffy stay there the following week. It looks the Mangoalie was going to need a new home soon.
~
A few days later, you go to meet Sam. You’re a bit surprised to find that he has the yellow Mangoalie mare by his side.
“Oh, are you adopting her, Sam?”
“No, not really laddie. I don’t have enough information on Mangoalies to adopt them. But I did make an acquisition lately.”
“Acquisition?”
“There was this fluffy daycare that was very understaffed, and thus was badly managed. The fluffies were not well toilet-trained and were coming into squalor. Thankfully, the property seemed like a good location for an investment, so I bought the daycare, and I allocated some of my staff to look after it.”( >>51088 )
“That’s real nice of you Sam, but you don’t have to save every poor fluffy daycare out there.”
The last Renaissance daycare (Artist:Renaissance)
“You’re right, I don’t. But see, this daycare had the largest collection of Renaissance fluffies I’ve seen anywhere. They are a very rare breed, and most have died out. Thus I felt this acquisition was necessary for my research.”
"I see.
So that means the Mangoalie fluffy is going to stay there?"
“Yup! The daycare had a lot of vacancies, so I’m hoping that, as an ABAP daycare, the Renaissance and Mangoalie fluffies will do fine.”
As Sam says this, you remember the fluffy city his parallel universe version showed you. And you remember that city was populated by KMEB, Renaissance and Mangoalie fluffies. Even though they are now not in the best of situations, perhaps, if given the chance to develop and have good owners and better education, something good can come of them.
~
~Whatever Happened to the PostFluff of Tomorrow?~
“Welcome, to Avtovo station.”
After being used to the destitute reality of the surface world, Greg’s mouth is in wide open, looking in awe at the wonder of the Metro station. There are columns faced with ornamental glass. The walls are faced with white marble and adorned on the north side by a row of ornamental ventilation grilles. The Stalkers had used this Station as a hub for further development along the railway lines. Because the train services stopped following the war, the remaining survivors of Stalingrad, now named Petrograd among the free, have converted the tunnels into living spaces, with further work being done towards excavating more area by digging further into the ground
Greg couldn’t help but wonder, “How long have you guys been doing this?”
“About a decade, noble fluff. We have been digging, and searching for safe areas, as well as drilling for water.”
“How do you get about getting food?”
“Oh, we have our sources. Learning how to generate electricity underground means we can make light, and light means crops. But there are other things we have done, and we still need brave men, women and fluffy to go to the topside to scavenge.”
That one word caught Greg’s attention.
“Brave fluffy?”
“Da. Some of the stalkers here dislike fluffies, but I, as well as the other leaders, see value in your kind. Perhaps you should explore the Metro a bit more.”
The offer was tempting, but something else was on Greg’s mind
“What about my friend? What about Boris?”
Arkady’s face goes a bit grim, as he levels with Greg. “I’ve taken Boris to one of the clinics we have established in our Metro. Many of my men have encountered amnesia while venturing in the outskirts of the Surface, and we have been working to finding a cure for it.”
“But he needs me!”
Arkady smiles, as he looks at Greg. “You’ve been a good friend to Boris. And you brought back one of my most trusted men. But right now, what he needs is medical attention, and a doctor. Specifically, a brain doctor. Can you provide that?”
Greg pauses for a moment to think.
“You’re right, I can’t.”
"But I do appreciate everything you’ve done, for me, and for the Metro. Boris is important to us, and his return will bring good tidings.
As for you, young fluff."
Arkady points to one of the new tunnels created within the Metro, and tells him, “I recommend exploring the Metro. I’d like you to check out that particular tunnel over there.”
Despite Arkady’s suggestion, Greg decided to explore the other areas of the Metro first. And so far, he has been a little astounded by what he’s discovered
Though described as a Metro, the people living under the surface have converted the tunnels of the long-abandoned Metro into a basic underground town. It could potentially be a city, assuming it had enough people. The ‘railways’ have been converted into roads, and the survivors have carved into the tunnels to create makeshift homes. While a difficult existence, it is not fully bleak.
While walking through one of the tunnels, Greg finds a Babushka narrating to a number of huddling children, and fluffies, about life before the war.
“Tell us about war, granma!”
“Oh was terrible! Much explosion destroying Petrograd! Granma was only young lady, but had to run into shelter. Eventually, granma had to run toward Metro, where she lived ever since.”
Some of the fluffies listening to the Babushka are foals, their eyes filled with wonder.
~
Greg checked out two tunnels, but his mind was still dwelling on Arkady’s suggestion.
What could be so special about that particular tunnel?
He decided to head to the tunnel that Arkady had recommended earlier. Within moments, he sees three fluffies carrying a wooden crate on their backs
“Heawe, ho! Heawe, ho!”
Though moving gingerly, they seem to be sure of what they’re doing, as Greg could see them moving the crates towards a crowd of fluffies. Said crowd seems to be building something.
“Outta fwuff way, dummeh.”
A little shocked, Greg steps to the side. He sees a running pegasus, with a plastic bag in his mouth. ( >>24898 ) Upon reaching the crowd, the fluffy unloads the contents of the bag onto the ground.
“Nummies hewe!”
“NUMMIES!”
The fluffies proceed to start eating the food on the ground.
Greg keeps walking. And it becomes very clear that the fluffies not only resemble him but have built a kind of society below the ground. How was this even possible?
As he thinks, Greg sees a fluffy approaching him
She is a thing of beauty. For a fluffy. Unlike the other normal fluffies he had seen above ground, or here, her body was different from his. Where he had short thick hooves and legs, her legs and hooves were relatively thin. Even her type of fluff was different from his. She had a flower in her mane, and was, overall, a pretty thing to behold. ( >>19655 )
Greg was captivated by her. But, he kept his guard. He remembered the time when he was propositioned by the green fluffy he met not too long ago. While he resented the fact that the Russian killed her for food, Greg did not want to be charmed by just about any ordinary fluffy. ( >>20505 ) In all the years of solitude he experienced in the dumpster, and even when around the Russian and that third person they met, he felt a kind of loneliness. He was the only fluffy of his kind, an intelligent fluffy who could speak normally and did not restrict his mind to simplistic concepts. It was why he was afraid to socialize with other fluffies. He did not want to think that other fluffies were beneath him, but a part of his mind always made him beg to differ.
“Huwwo! Nyu fwen?”
And he felt like he was ready to judge once again.
“Listen, I’m not interested in being your special friend, and I’m not ready to give you 'tummeh babbehs’.”
The brown fluffy is a little taken aback. And, to some extent, a little put off.
“Woah there, buster. I only asked if you were a newcomer. I never said anything about a relationship!”
Greg’s eyes were wide open. He felt a lump in his throat. He had to correct himself, having made the biggest possible plunder he could have in this situation.
“I-I-I’m so sorry, madam. I- I… I had to m-many”
She chortles, with a very understanding look, “It’s okay. I get propositioned a lot too! You won’t believe how many horny guy there are around here!”
She’s a brown fluffy, and yet, she speaks just like Greg.
“Are there any others like us?” is the first thing he asks.
“There are! But we’re a minority. However, the other fluffies look to us. We are always looking for more of our kind to help lead and teach the other fluffies around here. And while they’re dumb, the other fluffies work hard.”
The fluffy society (Artist:KMEB)
As she says this, Greg sees a long-legged fluffy, like the one he did above surface, slowly carry a crate to a position. Another fluffy, a toughie, is busy hammering a few struts in place. In a corner, a fluffy is harvesting berries from a garden fluffy. A society seems to be working here.
“Arkady gave us this area of the Metro so that we could build our society. In exchange, we provide him with food, as well as resources and a few fluffies to brave the surface above.”
“Food? What kind of food are you talking abou-”
Another fluffy rushes by Greg. The fluffy is carrying a pile of dead rats, some on its back, some in its mouth.
“Is that rats?!”
“Yes. From the rat farms we have here.”
“Rat farms?!!”
“Yes, we herd the many sewer rats that live in these tunnels. We then tame them, feed them, and, when they’re big and fat enough, kill them, and sell them to the Stalkers. It seems to be one of the few ways we don’t end up as their food source.” ( >>30711 )
Greg is a little mortified. But, as he realizes, “Well, better them than us.”
“So, what is your name? And what kind of fluffy are you?”
“I’m Ginger, and I’m a Fwuffee type Fluffy.”
“I see. I’m Greg. And I’m a Mutagen.”
“Seems to be that most of the fluffies around here are Mutagens like you. So far, I’m only the female Fwuffee. I did meet an elderly Fwuffee, but he died.”
Greg remembers that the friend he made not too long ago was of the opinion that fluffies came from another dimension. Could there be some truth to this claim?
“So what do you do here, Ginger?”
“I’m a researcher! Also a berry grower - I take care of one of the plant fluffies here. And sometimes I liaison with Arkardy. I wear many pants around here.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It is! I could really do with some new help.”
As she says this, a bunch of fluffies accidentally drop a cardboard box. One of them yells out, “Stuppeh dummeh! Dummeh weed Ginga pwan wrong! Bwockie go DIS way!”
Ginger sighs, “Looks like they messed up the building plan. I got to go help them.”
Greg feels like he finally has found a niche for himself, as he asks, “Can I help?”
Ginger raises an eyebrow. And then she smiles.
“Sure!”
~
And so Greg came to live with the Free Fluffy Society of Petrograd. As the months passed, he was recognized as a leader, and oversaw the construction of a school, as well as a library, for the fluffies in the Metro. Over time, he got to know Ginger better, and the two bonded over their many mutual interests. ( >>33756 )
As for The Russian, his life as Boris still eluded him, despite Arkady’s best efforts. However, he always remembered Greg, and the adventure he had with the intelligent fluffy. From time to time, while returning from scavenging across the remains of Petrograd, Boris would return with various supplies and resources to help build the Fluffy society. In return, Greg often accompanied Boris in his excursions above ground. Given his familiarity with the surface world, many within the society have bestowed Greg with title of the ‘Fluffy Stalker’. There are a few stalkers within the fluffy community, but not many had the experience or background that Greg did.
There are many exploits and travels that Greg and Boris had, in the many years of the Postfluff. But those are stories for another time. But if anyone wonders what became of Ginger and Greg, well, they did start living together after a while
The Russian, Greg and Ginger (Artist:Mutagen)
And they, more or less, lived happily ever after.
END OF GAIDEN