The Permutation

Breakthrough (Part 1) Christopher

Christopher had been making the drive to Twin Falls for the past month to aid in an ongoing police investigation. When the Lancet Falls Police Department called Christopher in for a consult, on what Wylie Simmons had referred to as "the most fucked up rodent I've ever seen," Christopher had viewed it as a Godsend. The doldrums of a 7-3 job with little to no mental stimulation was wearing him down, bit by bit. Working on a species of unknown origin, was just what the doctor ordered.

By the time he had gotten to the scene, the body of the victim, Saul Gutierrez, had already been removed. Christopher wished that he had the opportunity to examine the condition of his corpse as well, but the family wouldn't allow it. They'd mentioned something about dignity. He had to settle with the samples he'd collected of the cadaver Christopher had taken to calling Mus magnus, which translated loosely as "great mouse."

At first, he had to admit he was taken aback. The laws of biology, laws that he considered to be immutable, were thrown out the door in the creation of such a perversion. It was obvious upon first glance that the creature had undergone a radical transformation within a small window of time, possibly within twenty four hours, given the condition it was in.

Skin had been stretched taut over the poor creature's frame, with protrusions of bone poking through at odd intervals. The body seemed to prioritize musculoskeletal growth at the expense of other body systems. From what Christopher gathered from Officer Simmons, Mus magnus disemboweled its victims and proceeded to engorge itself on their viscera; a compensation mechanism to accommodate such rapid growth. Be that as it may, it would have burnt itself out in forty eight hours maximum; Growth of that pace simply was not sustainable.

The cops on the scene had the good sense to not touch anything, and Christopher directed them to salvage what was left of the beast's brain matter. Hopes of retrieving an intact brain were dashed to wind by what appeared to be the remains of a Vans shoe embedded inside the skull cavity.

From that point onward, Christopher felt like a kid in a grisly candy store. He collected as many cell types as he could think of to examine in a proper lab. The last thing he was going to let happen was some government agency show up and decide he no longer needed clearance, so he secured himself some insurance to guarantee he was kept in the loop.

Sure enough, the Feds from an ambiguous government agency swooped in and retrieved the body and anything else they considered salient to the case. They questioned every citizen of Lancet Falls to ascertain how much they knew and if they kept anything from the scene. There was a silent understanding between those involved that the lot of them would take care of this in house, and Christopher's clandestine specimens were kept under wraps. The samples were transported to a research lab housed in the basement of Twin Falls' branch of St. Lukes' where the equipment was better suited to his needs.

In the intervening month, Christopher spent three hours of every weeknight, and 11 hours every weekend in Twin Falls trying to explain how something like that could have come into being.
Test after test proved to be unsuccessful, but they gleaned some useful information. Cells of every type: neurons, myocytes, chondrocytes, erythrocytes, adipocytes, bone cells, and epithelial cells possessed similar traits to tumor cells, but still fulfilled their desired functions in the body. On top of that, genetic sequencing results showed that TP53, CD95, APC, and all the other tumor suppressor genes Christopher could think of, weren't present anywhere in the genome.

This alone, was a feat unprecedented anywhere in even the most wild cases of genetic deletion. He couldn't think of any natural source that would affect DNA in that manner.

Christopher could not recall any other time in his life where something called to him in this way. It was an all-consuming obsession that eclipsed everything, including all emotional distractions. The fact that he now had a hard time focusing on his work was of secondary concern when a possible breakthrough in genetic engineering hung in the balance.