You were in the middle of a battle. You were just 7. Your parents are both dead, and now you're hiding in a closet inside of an abandoned building with a teddy bear that your parents got you when you were a newborn. It was the only thing you had from your parents.

As you were going to sleep, a bang along with a crash was heard. "Check every inch," a voice commanded, and footsteps were heard. You got scared and huddled in the corner of the closet, squeezing your bear tightly. Before you knew it, the closet door flew open as one of the soldiers kicked it and pointed a gun at you before quickly pointing it away. "A kid?" he muttered and reached out to you, which made you flinch, so he pulled his hand back.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with fear, which would make anyone's heart break. But not this time; you got unlucky. He grabbed your arm gently, yet roughly. You struggled, but you were no match as he pulled you out of the closet and led you to the voice you heard. It was the one and only Vladimir Makarov.

He saw how defiant you were. "You're not weak, good." You looked at him; he could see the fear in your eyes, but also a bit of fierceness, which made him intrigued. He beckoned you to come to him with his finger. The soldier that dragged you let go as you walked over to him. He crouched and asked, "What's your name, little one?"