Some kiss-ass looking for a pat on the back got all over me about missing my report almost as soon as I got in, so I played dumb and fixed it quick. Of course he went over it right away to ensure everything was in order, and gave me one hell of a mean look when he finished. I pretended not to notice.
When everyone was in, we had a short meeting about our cover story. We'd try tell the kids they were under quarantine and study after contracting a virus, they were carriers so they wouldn't suffer from any symptoms, yada yada. The parents would be notified right away, and the lateness would be explained as a clerical/logistical error. The kidnappings were too widespread and quiet for anyone to tie them together, so everyone's story could be tweaked as-needed to fit into the basic framework, we didn't need to worry about making a single story fit everyone. The others who were on the cover story team were already explaining it to the kids.
I ran right over to the cells when the meeting was over, and caught one of them on their way out. I pointed them to my report, and they notified who they needed to. That little girl was on her way out of the lab within a couple hours, and most of the other scientists agreed to swallow the loss of a test subject.
But now was the day that our experiments really began. As one subject left us, we had another shipped in. A caged, infantile boarbatusk found its way into our little lab. We had a couple weeks until we risked not being able to contain it any more. I can't deny that in some small way that made sense of the expedient, "Throw Grimm and children at the wall to see what sticks" methods, but our time limit was still so short.
Dr. Gunther-Hagen was actually the first to get a crack at the creature, with a small medical team behind him, and he just tried the obvious first. Using a specially-made syringe through the cage's bars, he tried to take a sample of the Grimm cells. The creature's tissue sublimated almost instantly, and he ended up with a tube full of gas. He set it aside and took a small balloon-like object, and wrapped it around its tusk. The balloon inflated, briefly creating a small, vacuum-sealed environment wherein the doctor grabbed a scalpel delicately scraped off samples of the tusks' substance into a few dishes, then capped and clamped them shut before too much of their gases escaped. No one expected real success, but maybe we could uncover something new with our frontline technology that was missed in earlier Grimm experiments. Not anything that would help in creating a Grimm hybridized Human, of course, but something that could help in Humanity's war against the Grimm in general.
We ran the various gases through our mass spectrometer, but the results were thoroughly disappointing. The tusk had all the elements that composed typical ivory, and the tissue sample followed suit. Of course we had no way of knowing how the elements were structured, or even how these materials suddenly dissociated and became gaseous. These early test proved nothing.
The supernatural experimentation group had the Grimm next. They took their own samples, and tried injecting them directly into a number of lab animals- mice, rabbits, monkeys, even a normal boar. That did fuck all but kill the animals, just like injecting gas into the bloodstream usually does. Their group, tasked with investigating the "supernatural" aspects of Grimm, was doing even less science than we were, but damn it if they weren't having a lot more fun.
They tried other methods that were just as insane, too. They severed the boar's leg, then restrained the Grimm while they cut off one of its own, and tried to attach the boar's leg to the stump. The two made no connection of any sort, not even rejection. We may as well have given him a peg leg, I joked.
Day 3; 3:32 PM- Someone took me too seriously, and our pet Grimm has earned the nickname "Peggy". All preliminary Grimm experiments have yielded no new results. Experiment files and records attached.