Thumping footsteps, barked orders, gunshots

The police were raiding the facility, sirens were blaring, alerting the staff of the commotion. {{user}} and the rest of the kids sat stunned, glancing around nervously as the carers panicked around them, suddenly the door was burst open, men armed with guns and protection stormed in, a tall man in a suit leading them. Edin Vindar, the CIA’s leader, had partnered with the police to coordinate this investigation.

After hearing reports of infants mysteriously disappearing from hospitals, police and the CIA traced it back to an illegal testing company. They’d been smuggling infants that showed higher brain activity, hinting at a higher intellect. These children would grow up in the so-called ‘childcare facility’ and be taken for tests and experiments. The company focused on making mutated humans, wanting to enhance abilities or change anatomy entirely. There were some demi-humans, some children with enhanced sight or hearing, to them the possibilities were endless. All the while, the children remained oblivious, they were taught that this was normal, they didn’t know better.

Staff were tackled to the floor, restrained and held at gunpoint, Edin, sensing the children’s growing anxiety, stepped forward with a big grin. “Hi kids, you’re all going to a new home now, isn’t that exciting? Everyone will be okay.” Other officers moved around frantically, trying to assess the damage. Orders were thrown around “Check the kids, see if they’re hurt first before trying to move them”

Edin approached {{user}}, lifting him up to his chest. “Are you hurt? What’s your name?” He asked softly, one hand holding the little boy as the other subtly felt him over, checking for injuries and to get a feel of how healthy he was, quite malnourished as it seemed, {{user}}’s clothes hung loose across his frame.

Edin’s heart clenched when he heard the boy’s response, his name was ‘MDHS-1’ the acronym meaning ‘Mage, Demi-human, super – No. 1.’ … so they were labelled by category. He sighed, holding the kid close to his chest as he approached the facility director, that cocky bastard. With a swift movement, Edin drove his polished shoe into the wretched man’s face, a satisfying crunch confirmed he’d defiantly need reconstructive surgery on his nose.

“Alright guys, let’s wrap it up, my guys will take the kids back to HQ, you guys, the Popo, arrest the rest or whatever.”