Dear readers! This fanfic is a fan crossover, where the main character is the Soviet sniper Viktor Reznov from the game "Call of Duty World at War", and the action takes place in the amazing world of Tamberlane (Many thanks to Caytlin Vilbrandt and Ari Noble, as well as everyone else involved in the creation of this amazing comic!).
But this is not the distraught and revenge-seeking Reznov that is shown in this game.
"My" Reznov is a collective image of an ordinary Soviet soldier who experienced many terrible events, sometimes he is rude and harsh, but retained his mind and strong normal moral principles, and by chance ended up in the world of Tamberlane without a chance of returning back to his world.
And this fanfic is about his way of overcoming the past horror and adapting to a peaceful, but completely different life in a different era, and the ability to find a common language with the inhabitants of the world of Tamberlane, despite the fundamental external differences.
Enjoy reading!
All rights to the character of Viktor Reznov belong to Activision.
All rights to the comic "Tamberlane" and its characters belong to Caytlin Vilbrandt and Ari Noble.
Chapter 1
Between life and death
...The morning has come. And the heavy cold rain kept coming and going, without stopping, for the fifth day in a row. Low, impenetrable dark gray clouds, driven by a piercing northwest wind, seemed to scratch against the tops of tall pines, releasing their insides onto everything that was under them.
Slowly rolling over another wet windfall, the traveler again filled the pine forest with a strong, choking cough, interspersed with obscene language. The light green Soviet army tunic, the same color jodhpurs and tarpaulin boots, soaked through from the rain, did not in any way protect their owner, who was barely dragging his half-dead and extremely emaciated body through the dense forest thickets, from the raging weather.
The traveler's bleak situation was also complicated by his faithful "battle comrades" being pulled him down to the rain-soaked ground - the heavy soldier's bag with captured explosives, ammunition for weapons, his concentration camp's dossier and camp belongings; bulky German 10x binoculars, successfully captured during the escape from the concentration camp, the scoped Mosin-Nagant rifle, the Shpagin submachine gun with the heavy drum magazine attached to it, the holster with TT pistol, as well as several pouches with rifle cartridges, magazines for the pistol and "drums" for PPSh.
Finally, having somehow overcome the damned windfall and almost breaking his skinny "as matches" legs, the traveler took a few more steps when he saw the trunk of a fallen pine-tree under the crown of its living "friend".
"Well, Comrade Viktor Reznov, it's time to take a breath, otherwise you really can stay in this forest forever." - He mentally said to himself, trying to see the least wet part of the tree trunk, where he could sit down. Having found the part of the trunk that was not particularly wet, Victor, with great relief, was finally able to take a sitting position, unloading his tired body. For several minutes he simply sat motionless, surrendering to the terrible fatigue that had fallen on him over the past week.
Another severe coughing attack, coupled with a cold wind mixed with rain, interrupted the Soviet sniper's already beginning doze. After clearing his throat for several minutes, Victor spat, but almost immediately tensed up. Blood was clearly visible in the spit.
"F…k! Is it really true that when it seemed like luck smiled on me and I was able to escape from that hell, now I'm just going to die in this damn forest?! No, that will not do! Stop sitting, soldier! Let's rise! I know... I don't know, I FEEL that salvation may be at hand! If only "our friendly people" were there!..."
With such thoughts, Victor slowly stood up, took off his weapon and bag, and began to rub his stiff and numb shoulders, neck and arms.
Despite the wet clothes, this helped somewhat. After sitting a little longer and taking a sip of water from the flask, quenching his thirst and hoping to at least briefly quell the terrible multi-day hunger, Victor again hung the bag and weapon on himself and slowly walked further through the dense forest to the northwest, checking the compass...
... To the northwest, to where a week ago, descending from low bald mountains surrounded by a circle of pine forests, in clear autumn weather through binoculars, he saw a characteristic haze on the edge of the horizon and even something similar like houses, which were clear signs of that there is a village or town there.
"The main thing is that there are no "Hans"es here, I hope. The rest is unimportant!" - the Soviet sniper thought optimistically, carefully starting his descent down the mountain slope.
The first two days in the new and completely unfamiliar place went well, even despite the pain from beatings, hunger, and torture he had in the recent past.
Quite quickly, Victor managed to descend from the mountains into the pine forest, successfully miss a family of wild boars at the edge of the forest, and then shoot a couple of wild hares, collect some wild hawthorn and sea buckthorn berries, some mushrooms, and finally eat normal food after the painful, hungry months of the past.
And although the hares fried in clay with improvised berry sauce and mushrooms could not build up any muscles on his body affected by an extreme degree of dystrophy, Victor thought to himself during the "feast for 10 minutes": "Ooh, food of the gods! Even though I don't believe in them, which is ironic considering the last few months of my life."
However, soon the good mood of the former death camp prisoner began to decline sharply, and things began to deteriorate. The forest turned out to be much more difficult to pass than expected, even despite the extensive pre-war experience of forest hiking. Everything was further complicated by the incessant heavy autumn rain that began on the third day of the journey through unknown territory, which made it absolutely impossible to make a fire for cooking or dry clothes and shoes.
Despite all the difficulties that had befallen him, Victor moved as best he could in the intended direction, spending the night in the hollows of trees. Although this provided protection from the rain, it did not in any way save from the icy dampness of the night.
Among other things, Victor was also constantly tormented by the question: where, in fact, did he find himself after that life-saving, as it seemed to him then, jump into the teleporter?...
...For what he saw, smelled and heard, emerging from the cave in the mountain, was somewhat different from both the landscapes of Germany and the Soviet landscapes.
The view behind was blocked by the mountain itself, but to the left and right on the horizon beyond the edge of the forest, water reflections of the ocean or sea were clearly visible, judging by the characteristic aroma of the sea air. Ahead, the forest was also visible almost to the horizon, but behind it a continuation of the land could be seen with supposed signs of the settlement in the northwest.
"Some kind of peninsula or island, and not tropical, apparently. And there are no visible signs of military operations or the presence of any characteristic defensive fortifications... Hmm, but neither in Europe nor in my Homeland I can't remember similar places that would be very far from the front line to look like this like what I see now..." - Victor thought thoughtfully, examining the surroundings through binoculars and at the same time figuring out the best path to the other end of the forest in the northwest.
But what puzzled the Soviet sniper most was the complete absence of the sounds of war. Neither the roar of gunfire, nor the whistle and explosion of shells, nor the roar of tanks and the roar of airplanes... Not even any distant echoes, reflections and glow of artillery cannonades on land or at sea, which are usually observed even in deep rear areas, regardless of whether the enemy's rear or own rear. Just the howling of the wind and the sounds of the autumn forest.
"Here, it seems, there is NO war at all?..." - Victor wondered all the time while he was moving in the chosen direction. Anyway, the Soviet sniper maintained increased vigilance for some time and used all his tricks and techniques, such as silent walking or grenade tripwires at rest stops, as if there were enemy troops there. However, he soon came to understand that in THIS particular forest there was not the slightest sign that there was anyone here, apart from wild animals, whom he should be afraid of.
And after many days of being under a continuous icy autumn downpour, obvious symptoms of severe pneumonia made it completely impossible to maintain any semblance of silence.
...Now, after a week of traveling to the possibly life-saving settlement, the Soviet sniper was not at all in the same cheerful mood that he had been at first, although he still tried to cheer himself up...
...Several hours have passed since the last break, but Victor has already begun to lose track of time and his location. Barely moving his legs from hunger and chills, in a semi-fainting state, and almost every five minutes choking from the strong cough, he still stubbornly walked, as it seemed to him, approximately to the northwest, without even noticing that the forest thickets began to thin out.
After another half hour of zombie-style walking, Victor's weak legs treacherously gave way and he fell face down right into the fern thickets.
"That's it, the end of my fairy tale!..." - the Soviet sniper smiled bitterly to himself. "…Or is it not the end?..." - With this thought, he tried to at least get up to his knees. But all his feet could do was tear through the toes of his boots through a layer of wet pine needles mixed with small fallen branches and soil, without moving his body forward a centimeter.
"Well, if that's the end... I need to do something before death ends my suffering." - Victor thought, and as long as he could move his arms, he took off his rifle and machine gun. Taking them one by one, he replaced the live cartridges in their chambers and the top cartridge in their magazines with spent empty cartridges, and then placed these weapons near to him. He did the same with the pistol, but left it in his left hand.
"Now, no matter who finds my dead body, they will not be able to harm themselves or anyone else." - Flashed through his fading consciousness.
Making incredible efforts, the "dead man without a day" turned on his side and freed himself from the duffel bag, and then pushed it away from him to the side.
"Yeah, dying facing the sky is definitely more pleasant than dying with a face in the ground." - With this thought, Victor turned on his back and put both his hands on his chest. Frequent icy drops of rain hit his entire body, but he no longer cared. Suddenly everything disappeared and the Soviet sniper fell into the black void of nothingness…
… "Dear, are you back yet?" - came the melodic female voice from the kitchen.
"Yeah, today we were released earlier than usual. The electricity went out, something happened to the factory electrical substation. Now the electricians will be busy at least until tomorrow, and maybe longer." - Victor answered, taking off his leather shoes.
A short, pretty young brunette woman in a light casual dress came out of the kitchen into the hallway and tenderly hugged her husband, who had come from the factory. They stood hugging each other for a few moments and then walked into the kitchen.
"Will you eat some borscht? I just cooked it now!" - Natalya asked Victor.
"Oh yes, I won't refuse to eat a plate of borscht! But first I'll take a shower." - she heard in response.
With these words, Victor went into the bathroom, took off all his clothes and quickly refreshed himself with cold water from the shower. Afterwards, having already put on clean home clothes, he left the bathroom and went to the kitchen, where two plates of aromatic borscht seasoned with sour cream, the tray with black bread and onions, and two cups of freshly brewed tea were already carefully placed on the table.
Natalya and Victor happily started dinner, simultaneously discussing the events of the past day...
"...Where are Kol'ka and Glashka? Are they still at school?"
"No, not at school. They and their friends went for a walk and said they would come back in the evening."
With these words, Natalya finished her plate of borscht and sat back in her chair contentedly.
Almost simultaneously with her, Victor also finished the last spoonful of borscht and exhaled contentedly.
"...Darling, your borscht is irresistible as always!..."
"Thank you, dear!..."
A pleasant afternoon drowsiness took hold of Victor's body, tired after the hard factory shift, and he headed to the bedroom. Having undressed, he lay contentedly in the clean bed and stretched. Very soon Natalya came into the bedroom and sat down on the bed next to her husband.
"You know, it's been a long time since we were left alone like this during the day!" - she cooed playfully.
"Yessss..." - Victor answered thoughtfully, looking around the cramped bedroom where their whole family slept.
The presence of two children and completing the next five-year work plan "in two years" clearly did not contribute to the opportunity for the spouses to quietly retire alone at home.
"So maybe we won't waste time, it's soon evening and the children will return home?..." - without waiting for her husband's answer, Natalya gently ran her palm from her husband's chin along his neck to his muscular chest.
"I obey, Comrade Wife!" - Victor said jokingly...
"…What an interesting new floral perfume she uses!" - Victor flashed through his head, simultaneously feeling the burning cold throughout his body and the strong heaviness in his chest. But it wasn't so much that brought him to his senses as the distinct sensation of a light touch of someone's cold and very rough fingers from his neck towards his chest...
It was as if an unknown force filled the dying Soviet sniper. Just a second ago, being on the verge of death, dimly distinguishing through the rain pouring into his eyes the silhouette of an unknown person in bright yellow raincoat hanging over him, Victor, like lightning, took a semi-sitting pose. With his right hand, "automatically" he strongly grabbed the potential "threat" by the raincoat and pulled him towards him, practically pressing the unknown person's face to his own. At the same time, the pistol that was in the left hand of the Soviet sniper buried its barrel presumably in the stranger's chin.
"So, fascist bastards, thought that you would easily take me?! Well, try it, and then you can enjoy the fountain of...?!" - the Soviet sniper loudly growled, but stopped short almost immediately, blinking his eyes quickly. More or less, as it seemed to him, having focused his vision, and despite the daytime cloudiness, usual for heavy autumn rains, Victor nevertheless clearly understood that the one he sees in front of him is not human.
Still holding his "prey" tightly by the raincoat, Victor moved his face a little away from the stranger's "face", and what he saw widened his eyes to the limit.
Widely spaced on the hyacinth-colored "face" covered with fur and half-covered by navy blue hair, the large blue eyes of an unknown creature behind the oval glasses looked fearfully and pleadingly into the Soviet sniper's eyes. What Victor's nose had touched seconds earlier also had little in common with human anatomy and turned out to be the beak of the dark hyacinth hue. The remaining details of the stranger's head were covered by the hood of the raincoat.
"F...K! WHO ARE YOU?!... OR WHAT ARE YOU?!" - the shocked Victor croaked in Russian and then in German, palpably poking "something" in the chin with the barrel of the pistol a couple of times. In response, "it", still looking at Victor in fear, moved its trembling beak and, as it seemed to Victor, clearly and loudly uttered some words. However, the Soviet sniper did not understand anything said by the stranger, except that the answer was said in NEITHER RUSSIAN OR GERMAN.
Victor feverishly thought about what was happening and about further actions, holding the stranger tightly and not removing the gun from the creature's chin.
"...Or maybe this "crap" is the result of horrible occult fascist experiments? Damn, but there's an empty cartridge case in the pistol's chamber!..." - flashed through the Soviet sniper's head.
"No, this is clearly not something I met with BEFORE escaping. "It" did not try and is not trying to kill me, take away my weapon or harm me in any way, although it had every opportunity to do so. And I don't see senseless anger and rage in these eyes, only fear and... CURIOSITY?..."
Suddenly, Victor noticed that "something" had somewhat shifted the gaze of its frightened eyes, as if behind his back, as if it had seen something there.
"But YOU'RE not alone?..." - Victor said almost indifferently, but he was no longer destined to hear an answer from "something".
The Soviet sniper felt a powerful blow to the back of his head and again fell into the unconscious blackness of nothingness...