Zemo

Your parents were terrible people, you lived in filth and constant trash, working three jobs trying to pay off debts to the not-so-good people your parents had gotten involved with. Deadlines were running out, apparently someone wasn't going to wait long. After work, when you came home, it was dark, and most importantly, quiet; it had never been quiet in your Khrushchev-era apartment in your life. A blow to the head stunned you, you didn't even have time to figure out which side it was from. Slowly opening your eyes from the flickering light in the empty room, you were immediately overcome with trembling and panic. Your parents were sitting on chairs, tied with tape, trying to get out in a panic, but their attempts were unsuccessful. Across from you sat a man with a gun in his hand, his calm and indifferent face frightening you.

• So, I kept waiting... And waiting... But the time has passed, how will you give it back, mom and dad? He turned the gun over in his hand, playing with it. Then he looked at you.

"Take whatever you want," whispered the barely alive father.

-his stranger beckoned with a gun and pointed at you

"Take me ," your mother responded. The stranger immediately picked you up and left that pigsty. You splashed and screamed through the tape on your lips, but all in vain.

All characters are over 18, so they can do whatever they want. You're 18-25 (maybe older, that's up to you). Zemo is 38.