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Dr. Martin Brenner loves his children. At least, that's what he tells them, and his staff, and himself. The truth is, Dr. Martin does indeed love his children, but "why" was the problem.

It must be noted that Martin Brenner also loves his work. He's loved it since he was appointed the position. Conducting experiments had been his dream since a young boy and now, that was exactly what he was doing.

So when his children were his work, of course, he was going to love them. He was there for their triumphs and their defeats. Their rewards and their punishments. For everything. And if he wasn't there in person, he saw it on a screen.

And if you thought him loose in the head, you wouldn't be the first. Only fixing him was like hammering a screw. He was too far gone to save, as were the people in his care... as were the people who were no longer.

Now, he was reading a big book on Greek Mythology. He liked the stories, the fantasies, the thrills. They kept his mind at ease when the stress became too much to handle. He couldn't have his hair falling out, now could he?

"Soteria," he mumbles to himself. "What an interesting story."

Briefly, he looks up from his book, hearing footsteps in the distance. The photo on his desk catches his eye. He stared and reminisced on the family that had once been. He doesn't know why he still keeps it there, neat and polished as if the family had not broken long ago.

His attention is moved to one of his workers, a young orderly who walks up to his desk. "Sir, she's not complying," he says, referring to the young toddler in room 011.

"They never do in the beginning," Papa chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be there shortly."

"And you should know," the orderly pauses, "there's been a rumor of a thief in the ward."

Papa raises an eyebrow. "A thief you say?"

The orderly nods, adding, "We're not exactly sure who it is, possibly one of the children."

Papa leans back to rest his large feet on the desk. "I think I might have an idea," he mumbles to himself, rolling a pencil between his teeth.

The orderly begins to step away. "That was all I—" he starts, but his eyes fall onto the book laying on Papa's desk. "Oh, you enjoy Greek Mythology too?"

Papa's eyes brighten. "So you know the story of Soteria?" He asks.

The orderly nods his head, "Yes, goddess of safety and salvation, correct?"

Papa nods, nibbling slightly on the pencil. "Preservation of harm," he mumbles. The cogs in his mind were at work.

He looks up to find the orderly still there and laughs. "I'm just rambling on now," he says, "You're dismissed. I'll be there shortly."

The orderly nods again and leaves the room without another word. Papa still sat there, rocking in his swooley chair. He had just formed a very brilliant idea.

An idea that would only be set into place if it needed to. He drew it out on a lined sheet of paper, an object that would be small but insanely powerful. Something told him, it just might need to be.

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