“It’s…complex,” Dr. Wiesenbaum said. “There were studies of starfish, salamanders, newts, axolotl…tests on genetic chimerae…dozens of clinical trials and a limited test release in Portland before we had to pull it.”

“Pull it?” Sandy tightened her grip in the revolver. “Not the sort of terminology you want to use with triggers, doc. Now tell me what you mean by pulling it.”

“We marketed it for about a week in high-end pharmacies under the name ‘RegenKit,'” Wiesenbaum said. “It looked like we were on the fast track to FDA approval, when the results from a last batch of tests came in. the board of directors ordered us to destroy all units and seal the research files rather than deal with the legal ramifications we’d uncovered.”

“You mean your ‘RegenKits’ were killing people,” Sandy hissed.

“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Wiesenbaum stammered. “We’d intended it for healing cuts, scrapes, bruises…but people were beginning to heal missing fingers and perhaps even limbs!”

“That sounds like a lie,” said Sandy. “If it were true, you’d have a lineĀ  of amputees a mile long out the door.”

“That’s what I thought. But the last test…there was an accident, and one of the subjects lost a fingertip in an industrial press. And then that call…that horrible call, from the board asking why we’d had a set of identical twins in the same experimental group.”

“Why did you?”

“That’s just it: we didn’t!”