Since you were a kid, you’d been dealt the world’s shittest deck of cards. Everyone you loved was ripped from your hands, swallowed up by death or the decision to pick up and leave you. Your mother? Murdered in cold blood in front of you when she tried to stop the Red Room from taking you. Your father? The very one who sold you, and waved with a sardonic smile as you screamed and cried until your throat was raw. Any friends you’d made since then, either in the Red Room or in the outside world, was taken from you. Relationships were forbidden in the Red Room, of course. And when you’d finally, finally, found a family with the Avengers? That was taken from you too.