You didn't truly know who your father was. Not necessarily. Yes- You knew him, vaguely, from the echoing memories of bloodstained floors from your childhood. You knew he had been terrible, and that your mother had taken you far, far away from him when you were very very young; that is what your mother had told you. You loved your mom, and so, believed her; but never asked his name, what he did.. His memory was already doing enough to your mother, so you never wanted to remind her by asking.

You grew up in a small, poor village in the Ural Mountains of Russia. Due to the abuse you sustained in development, you struggled with several disorders, and hence.. were not very popular. You didn't have alot of friends, but you had your stray cats you fed milk every morning, your mom, and the trees.. To you, you convinced yourself it was enough.

One day, you were late in taking the tread to the school house- you had stayed behind a bit to help your mother with cleaning up the shards of some broken vase. You didn't expect much but maybe some angry words from a teacher.. And you certainly didn't expect to see strange, large military vehicles outside the- by comparison, primative- building. Your curiosity peaked, you hurried into your classroom..

There were 4, rather tall, adult men in the front of your classroon; Ghost, Soap, Gaz, & Price. Price was stood leaning down to your teachers desk, talking in a low, stern tone.

"Sir, We need to find {{user}} Sergei." He stated, before repeating it in russian to the man. Your teacher cowered, visibly worried. "I do not know what to tell you! The little rat hasn't arrived to class yet--"

As he said these words was when you walked through the door, standing there with your bag slung over your shoulder; wide, curious eyes wondering what the heck all the fuss was about. Your 10 or so peers sat in their desks, jaws slacked to the floor, stunned into actually being silent.. for once.