On arriving in London, they headed - as though by an unspoken agreement - along the road signposted as leading to Regent Park. Dan walked in the centre - PJ and Phil weren't on the best of terms after arguing about Chris on the train - and desperately tried to mend relationships, but they weren't having any of it. In the end, Dan let go of Phil's hand and sighed, "Look, you two can argue as much as you like, but don't forget in three hours we'll all be sleeping under a bush, and it's probably best if we lay together to conserve body heat and all that."

PJ rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I get it, Dan."

Dan let go of his hand as well, and scowled. "That's not fair. I'm not the one in the bad mood, you don't have to get angry at me."

They walked along in stony silence until they were close to Regent Park, and had to cross over a busy road. On the other side of the crossroads were huge screens, and up on those screens, adverts were playing. Dan looked up at the middle one and rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, "I don't know who this woman is, but why is she half naked and selling perfume?"

Phil let out a short burst of laughter, then quickly covered his mouth as PJ scowled at him.

Their animosity was erased in a second, however, when a new programme appeared, covering all five screens and causing heads all over the road to turn.

"Dangerous criminals escaped from prison island," read the words scrolling across the bottom. On screen was a woman - presumably a news presenter - with a fake-terrified expression that made Dan scowl.

"We have received reports from Prae, a prison island in the mid-Atlantic ocean, that three notorious serial killers have escaped. It is suspected that they travelled on a trade ship, and people have reported seeing people fitting their descriptions on a train to London, but their current whereabouts are not known for certain. They are described as being three tall, well-built men in their twenties, all blonde-haired and blue eyed, and wearing entirely blue outfits. If you see anyone fitting this description, please call 999 immediately and keep well away."

The blood drained from Dan's face, and he stopped dead. Phil grabbed his arm and forced him to continue walking, dragging PJ along behind. "Stay calm, act unaffected, and if anyone looks suspicious tell me and we'll find somewhere to hide. Okay?"

Dan nodded quickly, trying to hide the panic. Phil's hand trailed down his arm and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. "It's alright," he said gently. "It's going to be okay." He hoped that if he repeated that enough times, he might start to believe it, because if he started panicking, there was no way Dan would be able to keep it together.

They stood at the edge of the road, Dan fighting against the urge to sprint across. He looked up at the screen again, hoping to see more adverts to show that the story about them was finished, but instead he saw something even worse.

Photos.

There PJ was, lounging on the stool in that horrible plain white room they were made to sit in to be photographed, with the corner of his mouth tilted upwards in that little half-smile he always used to do. On the left was Dan, sitting stiffly and looking awkward and solemn, and Phil on the right, one eyebrow raised and artificial blonde hair falling into genuine blue eyes. The photos were taken every ten years starting from their eighteenth birthday, which was lucky for them. It had been seven years since Dan and PJ's last photo, and because Phil had spent so many years underground, it had been eleven years since his last one. They all looked different. Not completely, but different enough that they weren't easily recognisable.

Dan's breathing sped up and his vision went blurry for a second, black dots appearing in the corners of his eyes, and Phil dug his nails into the back of Dan's hand. "Keep it together, Dan. Five minutes, that's all."

Yo hope you enjoyed whatever the hell this chapter was