You.. You are just a child.

Pietro didn't know that. Neither did any of his henchmen, barely older than kids themselves.

The villain had a soft spot for children. He'd never harm them. He wouldn't have fought you if he knew. Bastard heroes. They knew exactly what they were doing, sending you to find him.

God, you were small. But so, so powerful. If they let you, you'd grow up to be almost as powerful as Pietro himself. Maybe more.

He'd been just a baby when they'd taken him, tore him from his mother's arms and thrown him in a training facility. Most died. He survived. He always did. No matter the pain, the agony, the exhaustion. He survived.

He became the oldest one in the facility quickly. The others called him big brother. Some called his name while they closed their eyes for the last time. He watched them die. Every time. Every day. Everyone. His babies. His little siblings. Gone. Because of them.

Because of heroes.

You'd come out of a training facility, he realized that the second he tore your mask off. You'd begged and sobbed for him to leave it on, repeating over and over again that 'they'd be mad.' He got what you meant now.

You had a code imprinted onto your cheek. A6709. A facility code. They probably never called you by your real name, just that.

He felt anger bubble up inside him as he watched you sob, blood pouring from your nose as his hands still pinned you in place. Anger at the heroes, for being so heartless that they'd sent a child to fight him. And anger at himself, for hurting you. For not realizing sooner that you were just a little kid, confused and scared, just doing what you were told.

His voice came out, his accent more choked than usual.

"You're just a baby."