Dear readers,
Welcome to Until We Rule the World. The idea for it is one I've not seen explored on this site...or anywhere. Most people write an OC that brings more humanity to our favorite, crazy doctor. However, my OC is more of a bid to see how much more insane it can get.

This will be a RichtofenxOC story. If that's not your style, then why are you still around? XD

I'm trying to make this the best it can be, so give me a chance. If you're a Richtofen romance person, and something bothers you, please tell me.

This story will also contain humor. Still interested? Then read on...

Edit - This chapter has been edited, since it bothered me terribly for some reason.

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Until We Rule the World

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I raised an eyebrow.

"Tanya," he stated seriously, looking me dead in the eye. "Don't fool yourself with false illusions. I don't have time for love, comfort, or such nonsense. Truth is, I'm attracted to the unknown, the mystery, the excitement. And bringing you along is the most exciting prospect I can imagine! Considering that you were so suc-"

I shut him up by stepping forward, grabbing his shoulders, and kissing him.

"Just shut the trap..." I whispered, gazing into his wild eyes.

"And... there's that..." He stated. "Your...unpredictability...and something else, something I don't know of...yet."

"By your side?" I whispered, surprised. "Are you sure? I don't want to be your experiment!"

"Not as an experiment, Tanya. As a human...a person... Believe me." He whispered almost desperately.

"A person?" I did believe him.

"One day, a queen." He was watching me too intently now.

"A queen one day..." I repeated. "Why? After what you told me...it was wrong? If I recollect..."

"Yes. I did say that..." He mumbled, his face seemed to darken a little, become more shadowed. He was staring at me so keenly, that it looked like he'd just discovered something new.

"When did you-" I was cut off this time as he grabbed my shoulders in his strong hands.

We kissed, and our eyes locked onto one another completely. I yanked back after a moment, gasping. I grabbed his elbows, feeling my flushed cheeks burn. His face was strangely colored, as though it were not used to reddening and his eyes shone brightly.

"You did that to me." He pointed out. "Now I got you back!"

I laughed giddily.

Whoa, too far for you? I think you deserve the whole story.

Thoughts from Tanya Dreiser - In Retrospect.

I ruled that theater. It was my palace. My secure zone. Well, as secure as you could get in a zombie-infested world. You might ask about the fools. I'll admit they were a slight nuisance, but I kept them in their place. They were... - are my followers, if only they hadn't wanted my flesh so bad!

My name is Tanya Dreiser. I was ruler of that foul theater. No one could ever take it from me. Not even that bitch Sam. I was the one who chose to leave it behind. Why? You ask. Well, let me start at the very beginning.

In just about just a day, my whole mind was going to be in for a loop with me dazed and uncertain why I did what I did.

Chapter 1.

The Queen in Her Domain.

I stood up from my bed, stretching and yawning, my muscles tensing up and then working themselves loose. My head throbbed as the blood rushed through my skull, making me dizzy for a moment. I blinked and slowly collected myself. I rolled my shoulders and my face transformed out a happy grin, thinking of the various activities and games I had planned today with my fools.

Well, there weren't many. Mostly a lot of killing, which was an interesting pastime.

I pulled the rough, aged fabric of a Nazi jacket over my lean shoulders, buttoning up the brass buttons and adjusting the leather belt. I slipped into the gray pants of a soldier outfit, completing my attire as I pulled on my boots up to my knees and strapped on the leather grenade belt which was fully loaded and ready for action.

My brain sent a message surging through my body to my leg muscles, the nerves sparking in the tiny cells, telling them just what to do.

The power of the mind is an incredible thing. It has utter and total control over your entire being. It breathes life to your emotions, actions, and creations. All of this was in the span of a nanosecond, leaving you to take it for granted and never question it.

My muscles responded instantaneously, stepping forward in acknowledgement to my mental command, and I strode confidently forward, not knowing that I would, soon, question my own mind's motives. My motives. My control. One day. It would happen.

Imagine a mind powerful enough that it could have such absolute control over many bodies, all of them eager to serve. If only the fools would respond to my unhesitating mind. I'd already tried to give them telepathic commands. Either they were too stupid to hear, or they just couldn't because of that little brat that controlled them now. She loved yelling out all types of things in that ugly demonic voice of hers. I hated it!

I walked across old floorboards, my ears registering sound waves put off by the aged wood and my brain translating it into something I'd understand. My nostrils flexed, pulling in the dank, dirty air. It told me that I was smelling blood, death and decay. I loved that smell, It put my mind at ease, like a gentle wind.

I'd been accustomed to it for a long time.

I saw the old room around me. Taking in the micro-cracks and the larger ones, spanning the old paint-work. The wounds in it revealed the decayed wood underneath. Plaster was crumbling to the floor like forgotten soldiers, slowly dying in battle, falling for nothing. A Nazi swastika banner adorned the far wall over the barricaded door. Chairs, tables and benches lay across this door to keep the naughty fools out.

I stared into a glass mirror hanging on the wall left of me, spider web cracks flowed through it like a river valley, and it was dirtier than the Fools' clothes. Even so, I could just see my foreboding, storm-cloud eyes full of life and... You know, I'm not sure what else. It was just me. Gorgeous queen, yes, but still just me. And I saw my blood-stained self in this very mirror every morning. I observed long hair, loose and draped over my shoulders like a cloak. I reached back and began to carefully tie and braid it back, using the help of a tiny string and almost-ruined brush on the desk.

Just me. Alone in this blood-soaked empty palace. I take that back. Me alone with my fools. I smiled and laughed softly at this. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I finished with my hair before turning away and walking toward the unperceived part of the room. I halted my approach before my choice weapon. It leaned delicately on the aged wall in the shadows created by sunlight filtering through barred windows over my bed. A deadly Dragunov Sniper Rifle. Fully and faultlessly upgraded at that beautiful, blue machine, with a label declaring: Pack-a-Punch.

My muscles answered my brain again as my knees bent and I wrapped my fingers around metal. I admired the shining beauty for a moment and grinned bigger, face twisting further. The air swished as I shook my head and my hair danced behind me like happily. I leaned my head back and laughed at the pure simplicity of this life.

Kill or be killed.

I was Queen of Death in my own domain. I knew the rules, but longed to manipulate them. I knew this life, but longed to change it. I knew my place, but I'd one day be above it. How little did I know that I would soon be thinking different things.

I pulled my shoulders up. Taking my favorite weapon with me, I straightened to my full height, the vertebrae in my spine lining up neatly as my brain sent out countless impulses in my body. I was ready for another day of delicious slaughter. And hopefully, someone undead would hear my mental commands to join me.

I worked for a couple of minutes to uncover my doorway, pulling away the wooden chairs and tables, face serious again but my joy no less.

I stepped out onto the balcony of the theater room, staring out over the ruined auditorium, my eyes missing nothing. I saw the parts of the ceiling that had been collapsed into the rows of seats below, leaving a broken chandelier in the mess of destroyed chairs. The only place one could actually walk was right down the middle of the room, where the original aisle had been. A large curtain on stage hid the strange Nazi machine I'd seen there from once pushing my way behind it.

All was deathly silent.

I turned and continued into the room just outside the old bathrooms. They didn't work I knew. I made my way towards the main lobby, wondering where the undead were. Usually, I didn't have to wait long on them.

Right on cue, I heard a noise. A faint guttural growl came from a boarded window in the lobby room.

The first wave of the living dead were coming. I could hear their decaying, rotting fingers cunningly prying the nails of the boarded windows loose. Then, a jerk of moldered muscle as they yanked the planks free, staggering under their own tugs. They often bumped into each other like complete idiots.

I longed for them to follow me. To be my stumbling fools.

I heard a scratching sound and looked down the steps of the lobby veranda to see, in the blue light emanating from the Quick Revive machine, a rotten corpse crab-stepping through a torn-up window into the front lobby of the abandoned Nazi theater. I stepped lightly down the stairs, balancing my weight so that I was as silent as a cat. My arms responded instantaneously to what I was seeing. It never checked in with my consciousness as I squeezed the trigger on my shining sniper, it just responded to my extra-sensory impulses.

I watched the crimson blood spray, a rose-red display of beautiful brutality as its cranium shattered into tiny fragments. The headless corpse collapsed next to the teleporter pad, its neck spilling scarlet liquid on the stringy carpet. These undead things, they didn't seem to feel it. Yeah, they screamed every now and again as they died, but I thought it was more of a reflex than anything.

"My beauties, If only you'd answer me!" I called to them in German as more followed the first. I was hoping.

They didn't slow their besiegement of my palace, my theater. They merely continued to climb in through the windows, oblivious to everything but the living flesh before them. I took several more heads before a group attempted to corner me next to the front counter.

I reached to my belt and seized a grenade, ready to explode rotten flesh, blood and skeleton all over the walls around me. My forefinger and thumb deftly pulled the pin and I drew my arm back. I launched the grenade at the oncoming dead. The explosive powder-filled ceramic container bounce off an undead skull, making the zombie stumble for a moment and fall against its dead brethren. The grenade rolled amongst their feet and then exploded on the unaware corpses. Bits and flesh splattered all over the walls and floors, painting them red.

I laughed and cheered at the fountain firework display of gore. I finished up the last with some delectable headshots.

I walked along the balcony in the main room. I wondered what my next move would be. They still couldn't hear me, and I was bored of fighting. Luckily, none were around at the moment. I figured I'd make my way to the stage, and start singing.

What else was a bored queen to do?

Then, a buzzing sound filled the room. A flash of whitish-blue light illuminated the lobby. I blinked away light spots in front of my eyes. I walked forward and into the lobby to see what game Samantha was playing now. One day I would find her and...I found myself staring at the four men that had just been deposited there on the telepoter pad.

I ducked back and remained out of sight as they stood up.

The first one I observed was an American. His ice-blue eyes fiery with a deep-set hate and anger. He looked like a man with a personal hit-list. He wore the typical outfit of a U. S. Marine which was dirty and blood-covered. He had a couple of scratches on his face too.

Next, my eyes landed on the heavy-set Russian, his eyes half closed. Wrinkles in his face indicated that his age was higher than my own. He had a weighty sack on his bag, and a Russian hood over his head, the Soviet hammer and sickle woven into it indicating his nationality. He wore a Russian Soviet military outfit, his clothes also soiled by gore. He lifted a bottle to his lips and took a deep gulp of it, sighing pleasantly when he lowered it.

Now, my eyes observed the Japanese man. He wore a standard, military-issue, gray Japanese jacket - this was also bloodied up - and a formidable steel katana dangled at his waist from his belt. He had a cap that failed to cover up his determined, hard-set eyes, and his mouth was a grim line.

Finally, I turned my attention to the last member in the group. He was tall and thin. He wore a tan, blood-soaked Wehrmacht uniform, a Nazi armband proclaiming that he was a German Socialist. The part of his hair I could see under his cap was graying. His face was gaunt and pale. But when I saw his eyes, they seemed to burn with a fierce inner light. A gorgeous, lush green, full of ferocity and insanity. I felt comfort upon seeing him. It was as if I had just seen someone I knew.

It was a strange turn of events, but it also alarmed me.

Because everyone I ever knew was dead.

I backed silently away, trying to decide whether or not I needed to end their bitter lives with a well-placed sniper bullet.

End of Chapter 1.

I'm glad you've made it this far. Gosh, when I reread it for edit, I almost shot myself...with an invisible gun.