24 - News at 11

The newsroom buzzed with a frenetic energy, monitors flashing with live feeds from Redwood Heights as the raid unfolded. Cameramen rushed to adjust their angles while reporters lined up in front of the studio’s green screen, brushing down their jackets and applying last-minute touches to their makeup.

In the center of the chaos, Alison Monroe remained seated at the anchor desk, her expression composed but her eyes glinting with urgency. The producer’s voice crackled through her earpiece.

“Live in three... two...”

The red light blinked on, and Alison straightened, smoothing her papers with one hand.

“Good evening, I’m Alison Monroe, and this is News at 11. Tonight, we’re covering a breaking and deeply disturbing story from Redwood Heights—a private clinic that has just been raided by federal authorities. Preliminary reports suggest the facility was being used as a hub for illegal consciousness transfers—commonly known as The Resurrection Trade—where the wealthy allegedly purchased new, young bodies through illicit means for use by the consciousness of wealthy elites to return from the digital afterlife. The scene outside the clinic remains chaotic as survivors are being escorted out, some visibly shaken and others barely able to stand.”

The feed cut to live footage from the scene—police lights flashing in harsh red and blue, officers moving through the crowds to maintain order. Paramedics wheeled out young men and women wrapped in blankets, some hunched and dazed, others crying openly.

The camera zoomed in on a young woman being helped onto a stretcher. Her hair was matted and her face pale, but Alison’s practiced eye caught the glimpse of raw terror in her expression.

“Among those rescued,” Alison continued, “are victims believed to have been coerced or deceived into selling their bodies. Authorities have not yet released names, but early statements indicate that some survivors were held against their will while being prepped for consciousness transfer.”

The screen split, showing Alison on one side and a field reporter at the scene. “We go now to our correspondent, David Hong, who is reporting live from Redwood Heights. David, what can you tell us?”

The reporter nodded, his breath visible in the chilly night air. “Alison, it’s a scene of absolute chaos here. Dozens of survivors have been brought out—many appearing drugged or disoriented. Law enforcement sources tell us that the raid was initiated after leaked data revealed the clinic’s role in a massive body-trading operation. As you can see behind me, federal agents are escorting several individuals in handcuffs—believed to be key personnel involved in the illegal transfers. Protesters have begun gathering outside the perimeter, demanding justice for the victims.”

David turned to catch sight of a commotion as more survivors were led out. One of them—a young woman with hollow eyes and trembling hands—was stopped by a reporter who thrust a microphone in her face.

“Miss, were you one of the victims? Can you tell us what happened?” the reporter pressed.

The girl just shook her head, her lips moving soundlessly as paramedics guided her away.

The screen returned to Alison, who maintained her professional composure despite the tension evident on her face. “We are also receiving unconfirmed reports that Redwood Heights may be linked to a broader network of body-trading operations across the country. Investigations are ongoing, and officials have vowed to uncover the full extent of the conspiracy.”

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The Crowd Gathers

Alina stood on the edge of the crowd, hidden under her hood as she watched the chaos unfold. Her heart pounded with equal parts fear and relief. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the lines of survivors being guided into waiting ambulances.

She scanned the faces, hoping to see Kelsie. She’d left her behind in that dark room, promising herself she would come back. Now she feared it had been too late.

A loud commotion drew her attention—more survivors being led out. Alina’s heart caught in her throat when she spotted Kelsie among them—alive, but barely able to walk, her arms draped over the shoulders of two medics.

Relief flooded through her, and she pushed forward, fighting her way closer, but the swarm of reporters made it impossible to reach her friend. One of the paramedics called out to a colleague, and Kelsie was loaded onto a stretcher and secured in the back of an ambulance.

Alina bit her lip to hold back tears, knowing she couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself. But seeing Kelsie alive, even in that broken state, made every risk feel worth it.

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Kelsie’s Story

Hours later, inside the sterile safety of a hospital room, Kelsie lay propped against a pillow, eyes half-lidded and sluggish. A nurse had given her a mild sedative to ease the shock, but it did little to chase away the fog in her mind.

A gentle knock sounded on the door. A woman entered—dark-haired and professionally dressed, holding a small recorder. “Kelsie? I’m Dana Porter with the Metro News Tribune. May I speak with you for a moment?”

Kelsie hesitated, her fingers curling in the hospital sheets. “I... I don’t know.”

Dana gave a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I just want to understand what happened. You don’t have to share anything you’re not comfortable with.”

After a long pause, Kelsie nodded, her eyes fixed on the window. “They told me... it would save her. My mom. I didn’t think... I didn’t know they would drug me. Or that... that I wouldn’t come back.”

Dana leaned forward. “They promised you money to save your mom’s life?”

Kelsie swallowed hard, her hands trembling. “Yes. They promised... they promised I wouldn’t feel anything. That it would be quick. But they lied.”

Dana’s voice softened. “What happened when you got there?”

Kelsie’s eyes grew distant. “They took me to a room. Strapped me down. I was so scared, but they kept telling me it was fine. Then... everything went dark. I don’t remember anything else. Just... flashes. Faces looking down at me. A machine humming.”

Dana placed a gentle hand on her arm. “You’re safe now. We’re going to make sure people hear your story.”

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Public Reaction

The broadcast continued well into the night, with protesters gathering outside the Redwood Heights facility, chanting and holding signs that read, “STOP BODY TRADING” and “JUSTICE FOR THE VICTIMS.”

Alison Monroe remained at the news desk, guiding the coverage with her signature calm. “Public outcry has been swift and powerful, with demands for legislation to ban all forms of consciousness transfer and to hold the perpetrators accountable. Lawmakers have issued statements condemning the practices revealed tonight, but no formal charges have been announced.”

A live feed showed angry crowds gathering outside city hall, while survivors’ families shared their stories with reporters. Public sentiment was a boiling cauldron of outrage and horror.

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A New Resolve

Across the city, in her cramped apartment, Alina watched the live broadcast, exhaustion draping over her like a heavy coat. She had done it—exposed the truth, freed the victims, and struck a blow against the corrupt system that preyed on the desperate. But as the screen flashed images of crying survivors and angry protesters, guilt gnawed at her insides.

She knew Kelsie was alive, but broken—like so many others. Would her friend ever be the same again? Had her decision to leave Kelsie behind in the lab haunted her forever?

As Alison Monroe continued reporting on the fallout, Alina clenched her fists and whispered to herself, “This isn’t over. We’ve won a battle, but the war is just beginning.”

And as Redwood Heights’ dark secrets continued to unravel in the public eye, Alina couldn’t help but feel both victorious and utterly lost—knowing that the real fight for justice had only just begun.