My name is John "Ivan" Smirnov, Born in Yukon, Oklahoma December 7 1999. I lived in America most of my life with my mother jessie Hudson, My father Anton Smirnov Served in the Russian military which caused him to barely be in my life most of my childhood. When I was 15 my mother was involved in a hit and run which took her life, my father had heard of this and decided to leave the military and raise me in his home town of Borovsk, Russia. Anton tried his best to teach me russian to help me live better given my new surroundings, it was enough to get by. Later when I turned 18 I trained to meet the requirements to join the russian military, the training was long and difficult but with the will and motivational letters from my father I pulled through and graduated. I served under the rank of Private First Class for 2 years, my squad was assigned all manners of objectives from humanitarian Operations to hostage rescue, even right down to the simple target elimination. During those 2 years my father would always remind me of the right and wrongs ways of being a soldier. One that really stuck to me is when I told him of an engagement and our support gunner was hit and how I felt about it. I hated the enemy for killing my friend but when I said that he responded with "Kill your enemy son, but do not hate them" he told me that both sides of any engagement that side will think they are doing whats right. "they as well as you are fighting for what you believe in, to hate the enemy is to hate yourself" I will always remember that. Once the pandemic was really skyrocketing we were allowed a small amount of time to visit family with the proper protection, which in that time I planned a visit with my father to check in on my grandmother Zhilina who lived in Sorbu, Nyheim. We arrived September 1st 2021 but the whole country was already in a strict lockdown but given my fathers old roots there he was able to persuade a deal to get us in which included a lengthy trial of blood tests and symptom checks but we were cleared at the end of it. The streets and roads were empty besides the occasional armed patrol. Once we arrived to my grandmothers apartment, we learned she was moved to a quarantine camp. With nothing else we could do we stayed in the house for a period of time, waiting for the right time to leave seeing as which our entry into the country was against containment protocols. On September 14th we heard vehicles coming down the road, they looked like Hazardous containment vehicles except they were fitted with sprayers. not wanting to get too much into it we moved away from the windows and went about our business. after a few more days the tv aired a Emergency broadcast stating to stay indoors. My father, already fed up with what was happening decided it was time to leave and as we left the building and got into our car we made a break for the docks a patrol had approached us from the front halting our vehicle demanding us to return to our homes, we both stepped out and my father tried to talk to the team leader by the looks of him and without warning he shot and killed my father, in a blink of an eye I ran for cover using the buildings to run and hide from the patrol making my way back to my grandmothers apartment. On my way back I could see people from their homes looking down at me as I made my way back, some even peaking out of the doorways knowing if they left they would be harmed and knowing I ran the risk of giving my position away I yelled a warning to stay indoors at all costs. I finally reached the apartment and hunkered down until the day the world ended.