St. Marlins Orphanage was a small dirty building that stood point deep in the shadiest part of London. No one dared to go inside as it was too riddled with rumors to allow a gentleman to shake his sensibilities enough to enter, regardless of the fact that it wasn't the building itself that made people want to stay out. Rather, it was the children who were admitted there who made crossing the threshold unbearable.

It wasn't as if the children were overly terrible, oh no, no, you misunderstand. The children, all of them, big and small, are little darlings. It was the circumstances in which the children were placed that made it so odious.

Each individual child had a distinctive back story, something that made them utterly unique in each and every way.

A boy, snatched from his loving family for a reason that teemed with bad intentions. A girl, sound asleep in a nearby room while her parents were murdered in cold blood. And, lastly, a fallen angel who desperately wanted love, yet received nothing but a cold shoulder in return.

Anthony Edward Stark was going to find that soon enough.