"Lunchtime!"
A guard from outside called out to another guard who was pointing a machine gun at a scientist. The black-haired scientist was momentarily distracted before quickly resuming his work, but the guard seemed displeased.
"Don't you dare think of food before stuffing all these babies!" The guard pressed the barrel of his machine gun against the scientist's head.
"Do not hit my head!" the scientist half pleaded, half shouted. You filthy, heartless brute who calls himself a soldier.
The guard hissed, apparently holding off on further beatings until after lunch, and left the scientist alone in the chamber bathed in a teal glow. In the center stood a massive, multi-colored crystal, its various minerals absorbing different forms of magic.
The scientist looked at the dozen sedated babies lined up before him. He had already "stuffed" half of them, as the guard had so crudely put it. Having a son himself, he couldn't imagine the pain these infants had endured, bearing scars from needles and deep cuts before even reaching their first birthday. Yet, their lives did not seem destined for anything better than being lab rats.
"Wa, ooh wa..."
One of the babies woke up, cooing softly.
"Well, what do we have here? An early talker, aren't you?"
The scientist couldn't help but smile at the baby's endearing sounds. Her light orange hair and eyes were captivating. She quickly grabbed his index finger and made eye contact with him, seeking more attention.
"Such a sweet baby. Your smile is like a bright light in this gloomy place. How about this? I'll give you a Holy crystal. It suits you."
Using a cotton swab, he applied more numbing cream to her chest and sprinkled white magical crystal dust, eliciting giggles and flailing limbs from the tickled infant.
"Yes? You like it?" He laughed alongside the baby girl - a sound he couldn't have imagined hearing in this hellish place.
Separated from his wife and son, he wondered if they were still alive. He could do anything to hear the boy's giggles again. Pushing aside the dreadful thought, he knew his wife was a formidable warrior herself, the best of her kind, and they must be hiding somewhere, waiting for him to return.
He needed a discreet way to communicate with them, as his every move was closely watched by the guards. Being an Odine, this army tended to keep any of his kind captive for life, exploiting their clan's technological prowess.
An idea suddenly struck him as he glanced at the hyper-alert baby.
"Little one, we must be quick. I know this won't feel comfortable."
He applied more numbing cream to her back. The medicine seemed to send her back to sleep as it absorbed through her skin. He carefully carved a few tribal words, including his son's name, using a tattooing technique he had learned from his wife's tribe. The tattoo wouldn't be visible until she reached her teenage years. By then, if she survived, she might be sent out of this place, her birth purpose fulfilled.
The scientist heard the guard's footsteps returning from the break.
Wrapping the sleeping baby, he cut his finger to leave a few drops of blood on her crystallized chest for the final touch. Glancing at her name tag, he murmured, "A, please help me find my son, Z."
