The ride from St. Augustine’s parking lot was a silent one. Paul and Dylan sat silently side by side in the back of the vintage Mercedes Benz but Mitchell knew that the pair engaged in some type of silent communication. The two had been fast friends from the moment they’d been introduced.
Fifteen minutes into the ride home, Mitchell angled the Mercedes into a poorly lit, deserted parking lot. Wordlessly he cut the engine and stared out into the growing darkness. “Alright,” he finally said, turning to stare at the duo in the back seat. “Go ahead.”
He barely got the words out before the car was filled with the rustle of clothing. It was followed by the awful sounds of bones cracking and flesh tearing. As quickly as the damage was done, however, the broken bones knitted themselves whole and the edges of the torn flesh became one. In a matter of moments, two naked twenty-something-year-old men slumped in the place where two small boys previously sat. “Take slow, deep breaths and you won’t-"
Mitchell shook his head when both young men bolted from the car. He could hear them retching outside the Mercedes. In order to become typical eight year old boys, they had given up over half of their body mass. To return to normal, their torsos were forced to stretch to accommodate the length and weight their twenty year old bodies normally carried.
Returning to normal from a transformation that extreme was a highly painful experience and a part of him felt sorry for the pair. Another part reminded him that they had created a mess that he would now have to clean up in order to maintain the veil of secrecy so carefully cultivated by the Panel of Four that founded Project Genesis.
Mitchell found it difficult to be truly angry at the pair of young men. Far more often he found himself merely exasperated with their decision-making. In many ways (and despite their life experiences to that point) Paul and Dylan were untainted by the realities of their world.
Dylan had come to Project Genesis first. He'd been living with an elderly aunt in Los Angeles and at the age of fifteen had the misfortune to catch the attention of some very intrigued individuals. Unfortunately for Dylan, their interest was not altruistic. By the time he'd shown up on Project Genesis' proverbial radar, those interested parties had already begun a series of physical experiments on the young man. They were often intrusive and usually painful...and no consideration was given to Dylan's objections or his suffering.
Paul, on the other hand, came to Genesis from the southern shores of the United States. His large, almost cultishly religious family, frightened by the young boy's strange abilities, drove him from their home in a ritual designed to 'cast out demons'. Mitchell suspected that it was Paul's immense intelligence that had served to protect him on the streets and ensure his survival until he, too, appeared on Project Genesis' radar.
The sounds of retching began to ease. Mitchell reached over into the Mercedes' glovebox and withdrew a tiny vial of pale lavender liquid. He climbed resignedly from the car, unscrewed the cap and with just a bit of struggle managed to pour a tiny amount down first Paul’s, then Dylan’s nostrils. “This is why I warned you to think about your actions,” Mitch sighed.
He winced as the pair rubbed wildly at their noses. Mitch knew from painful experience that the formula in the vial was highly effective but for a few excruciating seconds burned the inside of the nostrils like liquid flames. Ironically, he was currently working on a formula that would be as effective but far less painful.
Now that the two young men could breathe once again, Mitch turned the conversation back to their little escapade. “So...” he glared at them as they donned the plastic pants the doctor kept in his trunk for chemical emergencies, “which one of you is going to explain this? You know what?” He silenced Paul with a gesture. “I've changed my mind. I think for once we’re going to let Dylan explain. I’ll probably get closer to the truth that way.”
Dylan looked Paul’s way. The two had developed a system of shortcuts and hidden signals that no one at Genesis Project had been able to fully decipher. Mitchell watched intrigued as a silent conversation took place.
“Okay...,” Dylan began uncertainly. “Well, me and Paul were bored sitting around waiting for today's next round of tests. Dr. Barton always takes so long in between them that it's kinda hard to stay focused. So we took the bus to the mall and got something to eat. But we didn’t have enough for the bus back. So when we saw all those kids at the food court wearing those St. Augustine shirts, we knew their bus must be somewhere around. We scoped out the parking lot, changed into two little kids and waited for them to leave. Then we mingled in.” He scowled. “It would have gone like butter if it wasn’t for that little stool pigeon kid who gave us up. He's lucky me and Paul don't work for the Mob."
"You mingled in. With a group of eight-year-olds. Tell me," Mitchell's brow rose, "where did you get the clothes? And where are yours?"
"Inside an air vent in the bathroom near the food court." Dylan grinned mischievously. The expression made his handsome features seem as young as the little boy he had just been. "I'm telling you, Doctor. It was epic! We went into the kids' section in Sears -nobody shops there anymore- and just converted right there under a rack of pants. Then we changed into little kid clothes and just walked out into the mall."
"You're saying you stole clothes."
Dylan's eyes widened in insult. "No! We just borrowed them! Paul says the next time we go to the mall we can put them back."
“Why,” Mitchell asked patiently, “didn’t you just call for one of the Institute’s cars to come and pick you up?”
“That would have been too much trouble.”
Mitchell could only stare at the twisted logic. “So you transformed, hitchhiked, got caught and drew attention to the Institute.”
“We weren’t,” Paul muttered, “supposed to get caught. And Dylan's right. If it wasn't for that little stool pigeon kid, things would have gone perfectly. We were just about home free.”
