The speakers in the laboratory, or Office, as Iain had called it, were some of the finest on the market. Iain had always loved listening to music while he worked here was no exception. In his enforced solitude, he would have the volume high enough to feel the thrum of the bass or the shiver of the strings through his body. He preferred no specific genre of music over another, so classical could be followed by rap, with indie and punk vying for airplay afterwards.

Their volume, given they were almost exclusively used for music, was therefore rarely turned down. Being alone, Iain had no one to either speak or apologise to.

When David's voice leapt from them, it brought a force with it that shook the occupants of the room to their core. The vibrations caused Thomas to wince. The booming, deep timbre made Iain's teeth feel as if they could shake free. The darkness of the voice, emphasised by the volume, made Bren gasp.

The Spotters' leader appeared on the screens, at first as multiple smaller faces repeated across the wall, then with the faces swirling and joining to be one, super sized visage to match the voice.

"I'm enjoying this," he said, smiling.

Iain jabbed at the air and, when David spoke again, it was more bearable.

"Come on, guys! Don't stop on my account!"

"What do you want?" Iain said, standing and holding his torn arm.

"Well," David replied, still smiling. "I did come for your son there, but I think I'd best take the girl too, don't you?"

"Fuck you," Bren spat. She was back to her usual form, with the bristles and claws gone, but her fangs remained. A reminder of who she could so easily become.

"Shut your dirty mouth," David snarled, his smile vanishing for a brief moment, to be replaced by a vicious sneer. The smile was quickly back, but its falsehood was now clear.

"Like I said, fuck y..."

"Bren!" Thomas interjected.

Bren spun to face her friend, her fury evident.

"What??"

"We're not like him. He's just baiting you. Don't let him."

"He wants to kill you! Both of us!"

"So? He hasn't managed to yet, has he? That's thanks to you. So don't let him get to you."

Bren relaxed, though only slightly. She nodded and turned back to the wall featuring the massive head of David.

"You can't have them, David," Iain said. "They're mine now. I'm going to put it all right."

"We're nobo...!"

"Put it right?" David said, cutting the girl off. "What needs putting right? It's all pretty good, thanks. Sure, a few kids have to die, sorry guys, but collateral damage is acceptable for the greater good."

"Collateral damage? Murdering children is acceptable?" Bren said, managing to keep her voice steady.

"You say murdering, I say giving the public what they want. Anyway, just play amongst yourselves, sweetie. The grown ups are talking."

Bren gritted her teeth, something that felt odd with her fangs still showing. She remained silent, though, allowing reason to curb her temper. Let them talk. She and Thomas could take the opportunity to plan their next move. She knew her friend was resistant to her desire to take away everyone's powers, but was sure she could bring him round. As young as she knew she was, he was younger. He was driven by the pain he'd endured from being an outsider. Being different. He was, however, smart. He would see the problems inherent in the world as it was. A world that was in decay. He'd see the madness in his father's dreams.

He must. She didn't want to force the issue.

"Look Doc," David was saying. "You know I've got a job to do. I've got a few million fans that want a show, and your boy is that show. And now, as it happens, so is the girl. Let me have them and I'll find you some other lab rats to keep you happy."

"Others won't help. They won't work. It has to be them. Her. You can have him, but leave the girl with me."

"Fatherly love is a beautiful thing, you know?"

"I've been his father for long enough. Now I'm a scientist trying to change the world. My priorities have changed. You'd be the same if you had children."

"I did have children. Well, a child. He died a long time ago. Now, I kill 'em for fun. Not mine, of course. I'm not a monster, but you know what I mean."

"Don't tell me you don't enjoy what you do," Iain said. "The difference is, I'm working out of necessity. You're doing it because you enjoy it."

"Well, I can't deny that. Anyway, do you want to watch what the little ones are doing?"

Iain turned to where Thomas and Bren had been, but were no longer. They'd moved slowly towards the apparatus indicated earlier. Neither knew what they were going to do, but being closer to the machinery meant, once they decided, they'd be better placed to act. He hurried over to stand in front of them, blocking their view, still holding on to his damaged arm. It was a pointless effort as he'd already showed it to them, but he was being protective. They might only be children, but children could be precocious. They could tamper.

The pair had no choice but to step back, though that was all they did. If showed acquiescence without actually giving in. Thomas had already taken in everything he needed to see. The tubes of liquid in various shades of red, all bearing his name. He felt violated but didn't let it show.

Their semi-retreat seemed enough for the scientist, who was about to return his attention to the screens. He paused and looked down at the floor.

Then bent down.

When he stood, he was smiling again. He was holding up his index finger and, on the tip, was a thick red liquid that slowly trickled down the skin to his knuckle before running out of stream.

"I knew you'd come round to my way of thinking," he said happily.

He looked at Bren who then lifted her own hand. She hadn't noticed the cut to the side of her palm. The blood had already coagulated enough to stop oozing out. She watched in disbelief as Iain took a test tube and scraped his finger across the top, allowing the blood to slide in and down to pool in the bottom.

"It's not much, but it'll do. Thanks very much, young lady."

"I didn't..." Bren began, but she had nothing else to say. She could try to take the sample from Iain, but he'd managed to take that with little trouble. She had to be more sensible. More organised.

Iain licked his finger clean, making both Bren and Thomas grimace, lifted the lid on a cylindrical container hooked up to the device hand put the tube inside. It closed with a loud, emphatic click.

You've lost, it said.

"Wha...?" Iain exclaimed, his smile vanished.

He was staring at the screens and the children followed suit. David's face was no longer covering the wall. The screens had returned to their individual views except for a cluster in the centre. They were not linked together but all still showed the same image. The plateau at the top of the cliff. In the middle of it, just outside where the Blocker's edge would be, was an uneven, curving line of stones and chunks of rock. The line circled a hole.

"Shit."

It was all Iain had time to say. The word had barely left his mouth when the lab began to shake. Iain launched himself towards his equipment, putting his arms around it to hold it steady. Bren and Thomas threw their arms around each other, more for comfort than protection. The screens were flickering, the images distorting. Glass shattered. Books fell. The thin, meandering line of a crack ran up the supporting column. An alarm could be heard somewhere in another room. It was a deep, resonant sound that, if closer, would have assaulted the mind rather than the ears, leaving one with a possible migraine. It ensured swift action.

As it was, the source of the alarm seemed remote and the sound was barely an annoyance. Against the growing series of fractures that were appearing in the floor, the alarm was forgettable. But what it implied was not. Whatever was happening wasn't localised.

"Is it an earthquake?" Thomas asked, preparing to take cover under a table.

"No," assured Iain. "No earthquake would affect us way up here. I made sure of that."

"Then what?"

"A Mole!"

There was no chance to reply. The tremors reached a crescendo that was enough to knock both Bren and Thomas to the ground, with Iain only just remaining standing, and the floor in front of the screens gave way, crumbling as if it the individual parts of it were forgetting they were meant to be sticking to each other and any cohesion had dissolved.

Hands appeared at the rim and David climbed out. His exit was smooth, without a trace of exertion. He stood, casually brushing dust off his hands, as a woman followed him out. She was tall, much taller than either of the men, and extremely slender. Her eyes were abnormally large and a brilliant green. All the typical characteristics of a Mole.

"Not many of them around, but Dor, here, is the best in the business. Appropriate name, too, don't you think? She gets us into places that'd be locked otherwise."

David sniggered but Dor didn't react. She simply stood next to the Spotter, unblinking, back straight.

"I'd like to say what a nice place you have here. Of course, I can't. It's a mess. A bit like you, to be honest."

Iain straightened himself, letting go of the equipment.

"And I'd like to say how nice it is to see you again, but I can't. It's not."

His voice wavered slightly, his bravado not fully masking his unease.

"You're looking better than this place, though, but then, you would."

"What does he mean?" Thomas asked, using the table to push himself up.

"Nothing," Iain said. "Don't listen to him. I'll protect you from him."

Thomas stared at his father. He'd protect him? Since when? No, the man who used to be his father had proved that his son's protection was the last thing on his mind. He was hiding something.

"Tell me."

Iain looked at his son, not expecting the response, or the attitude it was spoken with.

"Go on. Tell him."

"There's nothing to tell. Nothing. Just... just take them. Let me finish my work."

"Tell me!" Thomas insisted, not missing Iain's sudden change, or rather reversion, of character.

Iain shook his head, determined to remain silent. David was determined to make the man squirm.

"How old does your old man look, laddie?"

"Huh?" Thomas didn't understand the question. How old?

"It's a simple question. How old is he?"

"Thomas, just ignore him, he's messing with you," Bren said quietly, "Don't fall for it."

"On this occasion, laddie, I have to say I'm not. Your dad there is a fair bit older than he looks, ain't you doc?"

"Don't listen to him, son," Iain said, the desperation in his voice clear.

"Of hell, laddie. I'll tell you!"

"Don't!" Iain took a step forward, but then moved back, unwilling to leave his equipment alone.

David ignored him gleefully.

"Well, I have no idea how old he is exactly, but he's looking very good for his age. His little playing around with vaccines and cures had an unexpected bonus, didn't it?"

Everyone looked at Iain expectantly. Even given the fact their lives were at risk, Bren and Thomas couldn't help but be interested. Thomas in particular. Was this another secret his father had to reveal?

"Fine. I'll tell you. There was a pandemic years ago..."

"A lot of years."

"Yes, David. A lot of years. They rushed out these vaccines. Multiple ones. Little testing, but they did what they thought they needed. It wasn't fully effective though. It reduced the symptoms, but didn't cure it. I wanted to change that. Make it 100%."

He sighed and shook his head, unable to make eye contact with anyone. He visibly slumped as he continued.

"I mixed them. Changed them. Adjusted this and that. Of course, I had to try it on myself. I'd caught the disease deliberately. Stupid, maybe, but I knew I had to if I wanted to properly check its effects."

"And did it work, perchance?" David asked.

"Well... no. It didn't. The virus ran its course and I was ill, really ill for a couple of weeks. But once I'd recovered... I, well, I didn't age as fast."

"What's that supposed to mean? How can that be?" Thomas asked. He couldn't make sense of what he was being told.

"I didn't age as fast as others. I had to hide it. Move away, that sort of thing. I was alone for a long time until I met your mother."

"And you never managed to repeat that little success, did you?" David asked.

"No. I suppose it was a mix of the virus and the various vaccines, plus my..."

"The word you're after is 'meddling'."

"Experimenting. No, I couldn't reproduce it. Without it, I wouldn't have met your mother. I wouldn't have cured cancer! And I wouldn't have changed the damn world!"