The search continues.
Bob and Helen sat in the dimly lit room, their eyes scanning the classified documents spread across the table. The air was thick with disbelief and rage. Their contact, an ex-agent gone rogue, had risked everything to steal these files, handing them over with a grim warning:
"You won't like what you find."
But nothing could have prepared them for this. Helen sat stiffly, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if the pressure would somehow stop the rising nausea in her stomach. Bob stood behind her, his massive frame rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.
"I can't believe this," Helen murmured, her voice trembling as she stared at the pages in front of her. The neatly typed reports, stamped with the insignia of a secret government faction, detailed horrific acts. Kidnappings. Experimentation. Torture.
Bob's fist clenched, his face dark with anger. "It's real," he growled. "These… monsters. They've been taking supers—kids, Helen. Experimenting on them, breaking them, controlling them. And for what? To turn them into weapons?" He shook his head, his voice breaking.
"Not only that but they are treating them like lab rats to study their biology and make their own super soldier from scratching"
Bob slammed his fist against the wall, the force of it making the nearby lamp shake. "It's sick. Twisted. How could anyone do this to kids? To their own people?" His voice was thick with anger, but beneath it was the unmistakable edge of fear. "How could we let this happen?"
"We didn't know, Bob," Helen said, though her words sounded hollow even to her. She flipped through another page, her heart sinking further with each line. "They've been operating in the shadows, hiding their tracks too well.
Their faces pale as they sifted through the horrifying evidence they had uncovered. Photographs, reports, videos and diagrams detailed the experiments conducted on young supers, their faces barely recognizable through the bruises, scars, and blank, hollow expressions. Their faces distorted with fear and exhaustion, but it was clear enough to see the pain in their expressions. Some of the kids were so malnourished their ribs stuck out sharply, the skin on their arms pulled tight over bone.
Helen clutched one photo tightly, her knuckles white. It showed a boy no older than Dash, strapped to a metal table, tubes and wires snaking out of his small body. His face was contorted in agony, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the pain. She couldn't stop herself from imagining Dash in his place.
Then there was a video. It showed a teenager with a suppression collar around his neck, sitting in a chair with his head hung low. A scientist approached, holding a syringe filled with an ominous, glowing liquid. The boy flinched as the needle pierced his skin, his body seizing violently as the liquid was injected. The scientist stepped back, calmly taking notes as the boy screamed.
Bob reached for another file, but his hands were shaking as he opened it. This one was worse. It was a series of images of a teenage boy shielding a younger girl as guards advanced on them, batons in hand. The first picture showed him holding her behind him, his body already bruised and bloody.
Helen covered her mouth in horror. The boy lay on the ground, motionless, the girl sobbing over him. The text below was clinical, heartless.
Subjects displaying sibling bonds exhibit extreme protective instincts. This can be leveraged for compliance. Subject B022 attempted to shield B023 from disciplinary action. B022 expired during procedure. B023 returned to compliance after loss of sibling. Recommend further testing on other sibling pairs.
Bob's vision blurred, his hands trembling as he gripped the edges of the report. He didn't even realize he was breathing heavily until Helen touched his arm.
"Bob…" she whispered.
Bob swallowed hard, unable to look away. His mind screamed at him, showing him Violet and Dash in that same position, It wasn't just hypothetical, he knew their children. Dash, reckless but fiercely protective, refusing to let Violet suffer. Violet, strategic and self-sacrificing, enduring any pain if it meant sparing her brother. They would take everything thrown at them.
They read another file.
"Subjects placed in Sub-Zero Chamber to test endurance. Subject A002 refused to let Subject A001 succumb to cold exposure, A002 using own body to shield A001. Result: Severe frostbite, amputation required.
But when they turned the page to see the photo, Bob and Helen both went rigid.
The girl's hair was long, dark—but matted and tangled, with a stump where her arm should have been, the wound poorly bandaged and seeping blood.
Her face was obscured by the angle, but something about her posture, … it made their stomach twist.
Bob leaned in, staring at the grainy image, his mind rejecting what he was seeing. The girl's head was tilted to the other side of the camera, her dark hair covering part of her face. Shadows made it impossible to tell for sure.
It couldn't be.
"Do you think that's—" Bob started, his voice tight.
"It's not her," she muttered, almost like he was trying to convince herself. "It—it could be any girl."
Bob nodded stiffly, clinging to the lie, because the truth was too much.
Neither of them weren't convinced, but didn't press the issue. He dropped the photo back onto the pile, his hands trembling.
They continued to read the files. Each photo, each video was worse than the last. Children screaming in agony as needles pierced their skin, electrocuted, beaten, broken, maimed, mauled.
Helen leaned forward, resting her head in his hands. "They're kids," he said hoarsely. "Just kids. And they're doing this to them like they're… they're not even human."
Bob's jaw tightened, his hands trembling as he flipped through the pages. "Our kids are strong," he said, his voice filled with determination. "They won't let these monsters break them."
"Yeah, I know and that's what I am afraid of" She said as she took a file that she wished she didn't read.
"What do you mean?"
"They have a… contingency," she said, her voice trembling. "For subjects who don't break."
Bob frowned, leaning closer. "What kind of contingency?"
She couldn't say it out loud so she showed him the paper that read...
In case the subjects continue to resist despite extensive conditioning. We proceed with Protocol 6 in which escalation is authorized.
Bob didn't realize he had stood up until he felt the table shake beneath his fists as he continued reading.
Those who fail to comply with reconditioning are subjected to further experimentation and until compliance is achieved. Subjects incapable of compliance are deemed expendable and used for high-risk testing and punishments in which survival rates are low.
Bob's heart stopped, her entire body going cold. "No," he whispered, shaking his head as if the motion alone could make it untrue. "No, they wouldn't—"
"They do," Helen interrupted, her voice cracking.
And then Bob Saw on the corner of the table a file simply labeled Terminated Subjects.
"Helen" He barely whispered as he showed the label to His wife.
A voice in the back of their minds screamed at them to stop, to put it away, but their hands moved on their own.
A child, no older than eight, lay lifeless on a metal table, the suppression collar still latched around their thin neck. Their eyes were open but empty. The file explained, in cold, detached language, that the subject had endured multiple failed procedures before expiring. No remorse. No acknowledgment of the horror. Just a statement that the body had been disposed of and testing continued with another child.
Another photo, Helen's hand flying to her chest as if trying to steady her pounding heart. A photo of a punishment. A boy who was hung upside down for hours, the caption said he stayed like that until his lungs collapsed.
Bob picked up the next photo, his jaw tightening as he saw a medical experiment in progress. A dead girl lay on an operating table, her chest open, her organs exposed her face frozen in a silent scream.
He slammed the photo face-down on the table, his entire body trembling with fury. "Enough," he said, his voice rough. "We've seen enough."
Helen nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "We don't need to see any more," she said firmly. "We know what they're doing. And we know what we have to do."
"But according to these files there are dozens of labs," she said, her voice trembling. "Dozens, Helen. Each one has two or three kids, all going through the same thing. We don't even know where Violet and Dash are. And while we're searching... we don't know if they are still—" His voice broke.
She opened her mouth trying to refute what he said. But the horrifying images that remained burned in her mind betrayed her. " Maybe… " she paused as she swallowed saliva." but if there is a small chance, no matter how minuscule. That they are still fighting, holding on with all their might, waiting for us; we can't afford to give up."
"You are right, Helen," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We'll find Violet and Dash. And we'll get them out. But we're not stopping there. If they're doing this to other kids, we're going to save them too. All of them. Whatever it takes."
Helen raised her head, her tear-streaked face filled with both fear and determination. "You're right. We can't just save our own. We can't leave the others behind."
Bob nodded, his jaw set. "We're not going to let them get away with this. They messed with the wrong family."
Helen reached for his hand, gripping it tightly. "For Violet and Dash," she said softly. "And for every other child they've taken."
Together, they stood, the weight of their mission heavy but their resolve unshakable. They had a long road ahead, but one thing was clear: they wouldn't stop until they had saved not only their children but every single child trapped in those labs. A fire burned in both of them—a determination to bring these monsters to justice and save the innocent lives caught in their grip.