The gathered children knew who had invaded their safe house. It was a knowledge not born of recognition, but of glaring certainty.

Yes, some empowered would gather together in gangs and raid or attack other people and properties, but this was Oscar's domain. The Fixer. He was too well connected and too useful to hurt, so was left alone to enjoy a vague untouchability that elevated his status above those around him. Besides, he was there with them. It was almost as if Oscar had invited them.

Tyler yelled something that was more noise than word, but its meaning was clear.

Attack!

His fellow children didn't reply to the cry, instead, leaping into action silently. A chunk of the wall opposite the destroyed one, and close to where a Chameleon hid, was pulled away and hurled towards the Spotters. Sharp barbs like a porcupine's flew through the air. Some children rushed forward to strike, others lifted into the air, moving forward with the swell of their brethren.

David smiled and nodded to Lloyd. The latter smiled back and stepped aside. As she moved, another Spotter, one Thomas didn't recognise, stepped forward and swung his arms in a wide circle before clapping his hands loudly.

The assault was halted abruptly as the children were pulled together by a force none of them could resist. They slammed into a crush of arms and legs, shouts of anger and grumbles of pain in the middle of the room.

"Thank you, Essex," said Lloyd. "Hold them there, if you would."

The man she'd called Essex nodded, not taking his eyes off the Fixer's cohorts. He locked his fingers and squashed his palms together tighter, bringing grunts from the children as their bodies were pushed together more.

David barely offered them a glance before turning in Thomas's direction. His eyes scanned the small group, saved, perhaps, by their inaction. They settled on Thomas for a moment, then grew wide when he saw Alex.

He strode forward.

"You're meant to be dead," he said.

Thomas was shocked to not be the recipient of such a comment. Yes, he was meant to be dead – or that was the intention. Dead at the hands of the man before him. A man he had hoped he wouldn't see again for some time, if at all. The Spotter's leader wasn't, however, addressing him.

"I'm alive and well, thank you," Alex said.

"I didn't expect to see you here. I..."

"You killed me yourself. Finish the sentence dad. You killed me yourself."

Alex's features rippled in anger and the shock on David's - Alex's father? - face became more pronounced. Thomas was used to, in his brief encounters with the Spotter, the man remaining calm. This was another side to him that Thomas hadn't expected. And David had killed his own child? Thomas felt a sudden kinship. They'd both been abandoned. At least Iain had handed him over and let someone else do the dirty work. David, it seemed, had carried it out himself, however unsuccessfully.

"OK. I admit it. I did. But I had no choice. I had to."

"Why?" Alex said, taking a defiant step forward. "Why did you have to?"

"You were a Nomad. It's the law. My job."

David's demeaning was crawling back under his control, the rocky weight of impassiveness sliding over his features with effort.

"Well, clearly I'm not a Nomad," Alex continued, ignoring his father's returning composure. "And clearly you're not as good as you think you are at your job."

"If you're not..." David paused and glanced at Thomas. It wasn't a check on whether the target was still in his possession, but more of a break in the line of communication between father and son so the former could take a breath.

"A Nomad, yes?"

"Yes."

Alex morphed through a variety of different forms to show how strong the chameleon abilities were. All the forms, however, were either boys or girls. They had different heights, hairstyles or skin colours, but they each followed the same theme. They were children rather than adults, animals or inanimate objects.

"Stop," David said firmly.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"Dad. It's been years. You still can't handle it?"

"It's not that." David shook his head, clinging on to his demeanour as tightly as he could. "Just stop."

"What is it then."

Silence. David didn't answer. His eyes remained unblinking, but it was clear he was thinking of something to say to the offspring he'd tried to kill.

"Admit it. You still can't handle me."

Again silence. Then, David shrugged.

"Why couldn't you just be a boy or girl? Someone I could be proud of?" David said, sighing.

"Why couldn't I just be a child? Why could you just be proud regardless?"

"Because... It doesn't matter now. You had to go on The Spot."

"You didn't give me a chance. It was barely two weeks," Alex spat.

"It wasn't going to happen though," David defended.

"Bit it did!" Alex shouted. Thomas put out a hand, intending to put it on the other's shoulder. Alex swatted it away. "I'm a chameleon! You didn't have to put me on that show. You didn't have to..."

"I did have to. It had to be me."

"Why? Why did you have to shoot me?"

"Because I couldn't let it be anyone else!"

"Oh, so you do care."

"Of course I do. I'm your father. I love you."

"Maybe you did, when I fitted into your little, rigid compartments,, but you don't anymore. The bullet you tried to give me proved that."

"How can you say that?" David asked, his voice wavering. Thomas thought about taking this opportunity to run, but he felt a kinship with Alex and, as such, responsibility held him fast.

"I'm dead to you and you are to me," Alex said quietly.

"No. It doesn't have to be like that. Not now. Not..."

"Now I have powers?"

"Yes!" David exclaimed.

"But I still don't know who I am."

"But you can change that. You can make yourself into one or the other. You can choose."

"I shouldn't need to! What if I'm neither? Or both?"

"We can work it out."

Wanting to break the stalemate of arguing with a child he'd tried to murder, David look at Thomas. From the holster at his waist, he pulled the gun Thomas had seen before. The one with the blue liquid attached.

"Move away from the boy," The Spotter said, indecision and guilt gone from his voice, if not his face. "We can talk about this later."

Alex sidestepped toward Thomas and there was a ripple of flesh. It was swift, as if a sudden wind had passed over a still lake and, once Alex's features had stilled, Thomas felt he was looking into a mirror.

"Alex. What are you doing?" David asked, staring from one version of Thomas to the other.

"I'm making a choice, dad."

Alex's arms wrapped around Thomas and the pair spun around quickly, making it impossible to differentiate Nomad from Chameleon.

"Go with it," Alex whispered, feeling a halting nod from the boy.

They disengaged and stood side by side. Every detail, from the length of the individual hair strands to the small scar under Thomas's chin, the origins of which were lost in his pre-Nomad youth. Even the fear darkening the face was replicated.

David moved the gun from one to the other, the blue liquid, so reminiscent of the Fixer's vial,

"Alex stop", said one of the Thomas's.

"Alex stop," repeated the other, the voice the same.

"I'm Thomas!"

"Don't believe him. I'm Thomas."

"Stop it!" shouted David, torn between not wanting to hurt his child, but really wanting to hurt his target. "Alex come on, change back!"

"I'm Thomas!"

"No I am!"

David's hand dropped slightly, his eyes darting from boy to boy, searching for something that would identify his... he'd wanted a son, originally. Finally, he admitted he would be happy to just have a child, regardless of what they were or wanted to be.

At the drop of the gun, Alex rushed forward, becoming less like Thomas and more like a ravenous beast with claws and fangs. The creature leapt, snarling, but was thrown back as David instinctively brought his weapon back up and fired.

The gun's sound, a flat thump, didn't give credit to the force and damage the weapon caused. Alex hit the wall with enough force to crack the surface before collapsing to the floor. A blossoming flower of blood spread rapidly around a hole Thomas could have inserted his fist into. David ran forward and dropped to his knees, cradling Alex, who was slowly morphing back from being Thomas.

"Why do this?"

David was crying silently, as if the tears from his face crept down, not used to seeing the world beyond their ducts in so strong and confident a man.

"I made a choice," Alex said through the blood seeping up through ravaged innards.

David looked up at Thomas. His expression was one of fury. The mask of poise was drowning in his child's wound.

He reached for the gun he'd dropped by his side.

He raised it, pointing it at the boy who was no longer just the next contestant of the Spot. He was the reason David's ice cold heart had thawed and been torn apart.

David fired at Thomas.

But Thomas was no longer there.