Warning: Even when the first few chapters will be relatively light, the subsequent chapters could trigger some people. Themes like torture, human experimentation and even SA of a minor, discretion is adviced.

Chapter three: A Parent's Worst Fear

The clock ticked louder in the deafening silence of the living room, each second stretching unbearably long. Helen paced back and forth, her phone clutched in one hand, while Bob stood at the window, arms crossed, staring out at the empty street.

"They should've been back by now," Helen muttered, her voice tight with worry.

Bob nodded, but his jaw was set, tension radiating from him. "They're probably fine," he said, more to himself than her. "Maybe they got held up helping someone."

"Without calling us?" Helen shot back, her voice rising slightly. "That's not like them, Bob. They always call."

Bob glanced at her, his face betraying his own growing fear. "They have their suits," he said, gripping the edge of the counter for support. "We can track them. Let's find out where they are."

Helen didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed her tablet, her fingers flying over the screen as she opened the tracking system. In seconds, two blinking dots appeared on the map.

"There," she said, relief mixing with confusion. "They're… outside the city? Industrial area, miles from where they were supposed to be."

Bob frowned, stepping closer. "What the hell are they doing out there? That's nowhere near where they were going to patrol."

Helen's stomach twisted. "That doesn't make any sense. They'd never go somewhere that far without contacting us."

Bob's expression darkened. "We need to go. Now."

The drive was tense, the car silent save for the hum of the engine. Bob gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, while Helen kept the tablet in her lap, watching the blinking dots as they closed in on the location.

When they arrived, their hearts sank.

The area was desolate—a crumbling industrial zone, long abandoned and eerily quiet. The GPS led them to the center of the complex, a massive, empty warehouse with broken windows and rusted beams.

They parked, their pulse pounding in their ears. "This doesn't feel right," Helen said as they stepped out of the car.

Bob nodded grimly. "Keep your guard up."

They cautiously entered the warehouse, the faint reflection of moonlight on their suits illuminating the dark and dusty interior. Then they saw it.

In the middle of the floor lay Violet and Dash's super-suits, perfectly intact, folded neatly as if mocking them.

Helen froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the suits, her mind racing, her heart pounding. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no."

Bob approached the suits cautiously, crouching beside them. He reached out, his hand brushing against the familiar fabric. " These weren't left behind. They were placed here."

Helen stumbled forward, her knees threatening to buckle. She knelt beside her children's suits, her hands trembling as she picked them up. "This isn't possible. They wouldn't just leave them. They can't."

Bob clenched his fists, his voice tight with restrained anger. "Someone's trying to throw us off. They knew we'd track the suits."

Helen's mind raced, her throat tightening as panic clawed at her. "Dash wouldn't… Violet wouldn't… They wouldn't go quietly. Whoever did this—they must've used something. Someone—" She cut herself off, unable to finish the thought.

"Someone has them," Bob said, standing up, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "They've been taken."

Helen clutched the suits to her chest, tears pricking her eyes, but she forced herself to stay focused. "We have to figure out who did this. And where they took them."

"We will," Bob said firmly. "We'll find them. But we need to move fast."

Helen nodded, her fear hardening into determination. She wasn't just their mother right now; she was a superhero. And no one— no one—was going to take her children without facing the full force of the Parr family.

"Let's go," she said, her voice steely.

Bob reached down, touching the suits one last time before standing. Together, they left the warehouse, their minds set on one goal: bringing their children home.