Sad COD Zombie Stories That will make you Cry

Kino Der Toten: Regrets

Created by Fanfic.Net writer CoDFicCentral! Our poor Russian:'(

  How did it come to this?

Nikolai Belinski was a man of few talents. Those few were getting drunk, and shooting while drunk. But now, his alcoholism caught up to him.

He'd gotten cocky, trying to take a swig while unleashing his FN Falafel onto the zombie horde while Richtofen was in the alley, spinning the mystery box.

Dempsey and Takeo were in the theater, where'd they pulled up two chairs to the podium. Dempsey had pulled out a deck of cards, clearly worn from age and faded from the murky waters of Shi No Numa, the place they'd all met.

"All American, chumps!" he'd proclaimed in his gruff, cocky voice as he slammed the pack down on the table.

Nikolai wasn't very smart while drunk, but he knew how Americans gambled, and he wasn't falling to that trap, because he knew Dempsey would sucker him into putting his vodka on the line.

"Not for me, American. You and Suckeo play your Capitalist game while I enjoy my vodka in the Foyer," Nikolai had answered. "No one bother me."

Dempsey had shrugged and opened the pack of classic cards while Takeo had stared intently on them, most likely already plotting his victory.

Nikolai had been cornered by the MP40 drawing, trying to look cool and hip-fire with his injured hand and chug the last of his alcohol with his good hand. He quickly regretted that.

His weapon had jammed shortly after reloading, and he had been bitten, ultimately causing him to collapse on the stairs. He was bleeding out, and if a syringe didn't get to him soon, he'd be gone.

After recalling the events of the past twenty minutes, he began to cliché his situation and search for any regrets in his life. He had plenty.

He enjoyed the zombie carnage as much as the American did, but he sometimes yearned for his old, politically successful life before he found out his wife was sleeping with Marshall Vasilevsky. Nikolai had been ridiculed and pushed around ever since.

"Can't keep a women, eh?"

"The Red Menace has been cheated, huh Belinski?"

It took all Nikolai had not to murder his teammates like he'd his wives. As a punishment for the spousal deceit, he'd made her clean his axe. While she went to the closet with the axe to clean it in peace, he'd grabbed it and nearly decapitated her out of rage.

He'd dubbed it an accident and avoided all charges like he'd done when he'd murdered his other wives.

Death had been an unimportant thing to the Red Menace, even though he'd caused it many times. But now, as he lay bleeding and his world turned red, he silently pleaded with whatever God was out there to spare him. He knew he was at the mercy of a Nazi's train of thought, an American's eventual boredom, or….. Takeo.

He wished he was back to the motherland. The cold winters, warm fires, and fresh vodka sounded like the perfect thing for his problem. Sleep and drink his worries away, like he'd done many times. But now, he didn't even have the strength.

Then again, when did he ever truly have strength? He was a murderous coward, who drowned his worries in vodka.

And as he lay dying, he knew they had no reason to save him anyway, other than a little help. He closed his eyes for the last time as he heard gunfire ring out through the theater, as well as swift footsteps and the click of somebody uncapping a syringe nearby.

But it was too late.

No!! Nikolai! No!:'(