A cry for help

In the dimly lit confines of a small, makeshift cell within the warehouse, Ariana, Zoey, and Daniel's little son, The little boy, huddled together. The air was stale, heavy with the weight of uncertainty, but Ariana's arms around the children were a fortress, her resolve a beacon in the gloom.

The little boy, no more than four years old, clung to Ariana, his small frame trembling. Zoey, though trying to mask her fear, kept a vigilant watch over The little boy, her protective instincts as fierce as any guard outside their door.

"It's going to be okay, little boy," Ariana whispered, her voice a soothing melody in the harshness of their reality. "Your daddy and Uncle George are coming for us. They're like... superheroes, you know?"

The little boy's eyes, wide and filled with the innocence of youth, looked up at Ariana. "Like... like Batman?" he asked, a quiver in his voice.

Zoey smiled, despite the fear gnawing at her heart. "Exactly like Batman. But cooler. Your dad is like... Batman an