[Later that night, at a private lab Reynold trusted]
"Project Helix," the technician muttered, adjusting her glasses. "That's what this chemical matches with. At least partially."
Reynold narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, partially?"
"It's like... a prototype. A failed version. It's missing key stabilizers. If someone injected this," she paused, "they'd experience unpredictable changes. High fevers. Neurological fluctuations. Cellular mutations. Most wouldn't survive."
Reynold's chest tightened. Fevers. Changes. Mutations.
Ted Frin had no medical history to show instability. He was healthy. Normal.
But what if he wasn't anymore?
"Do you think someone injected this into him?" he asked.
She hesitated. "I think someone was trying to see what it could do. This stuff is unstable, but it's designed to evolve. It adapts to the host."
Jeric, standing behind them, let out a low whistle. "Sounds like something out of a comic book."
