Hotel Six: A Call of Duty Fanfiction

Prologue

The Ultranationalists had won the Russian Civil War.

Zakhaev was gone, but certainly not forgotten.

There was a bloody struggle, and I came out on top. Any man who dared stand against me was now either kneeling at my feet, or lying six feet under ground. But now my work had begun. I had an entire government to reconstruct, a people to retrain to live apart from the pitiful lives they had known before, and most of all, I needed redemption...

... No, I take that back; I didn't need redemption...

I needed vengeance.

I needed vengeance for the men- the brothers and sons- we lost because of the West's ignorance and deliberate attempts against us...

Not us...

Me.

I did as my country asked of me as nothing but a captain in the Russian Army and eventually the Spetsnaz. I killed who they wanted dead. I leveled the towns they wanted gone. My hands weren't clean, but neither were the hands of the men who gave the orders. But then one word slips that I lead a top secret annihilation of a village no one remembers on the Kazakhstan border, and the next thing I know, I find myself not only hunted by the EU, but turned on by my own country. I was the scapegoat for their crimes while they devised artificial truths to vilify the men off of whose blood they profited so that they could cover their asses.

And oh, how the West devours their artificial truths. Russia stroked America's ego, and in turn, America offered supposed freedom and protection... freedom in the form of a restricted, emasculated military and protection in the form of sticking their nose in Russia's affairs, hunting its strongest assets...

Hunting me...

Despite fighting to at least keep my dignity, I was forced to leave the military I fought for, that family of brothers and sons, with nothing but dishonor on my name... And I was lucky to get away with that. The Russians sent the American dogs after me; many of my brethren were imprisoned, some even killed, in atonement for the sins Russia refused to confess. I hid for months, years even, until I found someone like me, who knew the fault in our country's politics and governing. He took me under his wing, and I rose to an even higher station than ever before as the world's... second most powerful man.

But now, even he was dead. Zakhaev, my second father, and one of my closest friends, was murdered by the West- who could well have stayed out of the civil war- and ripped everything from us. From the Ultranationalists. From me. He left me in charge of an entire nation...

And I was about to change everything.

Forever.

But enough of that; perhaps you would like to hear more about your Western Heroes, and less about the will of a single man...?

Very well, then...