Chapter Warnings: Serious violence and injury. This is the most violent chapter in the story. Also, x-ray vision = some body system details, so squeamish people be careful.

I honestly adore this chapter, though.

Dubbelix would admit he'd overreached himself today. It wasn't wholly his fault. Everyone in the complex seemed to be rushing, the VIP's sudden and unexplained demands leaving all in a frazzled hurry. It strained even his organizational skill to juggle the genomorph groups and still keep what tabs he could on the science team. He could only do so much before he had to let something slide, delegate some responsibilities. Whoever commissioned this location overhaul could not have been more ill-timed.

When Jake screamed, the sudden fear careening through the psychic link staggered Dubbilex. He heard the troll in front of him stumble, felt the flicker of terror, like a catching spark, gain strength through every mind it touched. Dubbelix dragged calmness he didn't feel over the others, forcing them to stay at work, not to drop their loads or miss their codes or let the humans see. They couldn't afford such failures. Then and only then could he turn to sublevel 51. Jake, what-!?

But his only answer was a screech of red, primal fear, and the image of red-white-glowing lights meant to kill. The intent to destroy, rend, murder, filled Dubbilex's mind until nausea and terror twisted in him. Something was trying to kill Jake, red eyes whose hatred rolled in waves. What was going on? Where was Jim?

The second answer came in a crack of sound, white-splinter points of pain transmitted through Jake but not stemming from him. Dubbelix saw Jim hit the ground, saw Desmond lying senseless behind him. Jake cried out in a different fear then, as Jim struggled to catch his breath, and the hateful presence swooped dangerously in the air.

Jake looked up at it, and Dubbelix froze. Match's entire body tensed with wild anger, and his eyes were fixed on Jim, his mind reverberating with half-words and jagged edges, and hate.

Dubbelix's next thought sliced through the hubbub of the genomorphs to Achilles, the patrol on the higher floor. They ran towards the lifts as soon as they felt through Dubbilex how much danger Jim and Desmond were in. Nothing could stop Match, no reasoning, no words, no logic, and Dubbelix knew of no strength. He would fight and fight, and he would kill, until he was spent.

As Dubbilex tried to assure Jake help was coming, a sudden cacophony of sound and light forked between them, making them both wince. Then Jim was running, and Match reeling back from the toppling walls, and Dubbelix could not hold on to one mind over the noise of the others. Genomorphs from all the floors began reporting hurried activity, orders for evacuation. Everyone was moving, the security personnel scrambling to organize an already chaotic situation. The genemorphs huddled in confusion, needed his guidance; the humans could not direct them efficiently enough. There suddenly was no time.

Dubbelix was tugged from the tangled psychic lanes by a curt tone in his pocket. He only carried one comlink, had never used it. He fumbled drawing it out.

Jim's voice was ragged at the edges, but his tone was deceptively calm. "Dubbelix. Tell me what was in Lab M206I."

Dubbelix had known Jim called his bluff the moment the man chose not to confront him. Yet, still, something different came in hearing the bluntness of Jim's grim surety. How little accusation he found there surprised Dubbilex.

"Jim."

"Dubbelix, now." Jim growled. Dubbelix felt as much as heard it. He had a curious double vision, hearing Jim while simultaneously tethered to the man's mind. Jim was angry, but not at Dubbilex's concealment. Instead, it infuriated him that Dubbelix's hesitation put lives at risk. Desmond was unconscious, Jake trembling. Jim knew little, but intuited much of the magnitude of their situation. Dubbelix realized with a start that it physically pained Jim to carry Desmond, who was not a heavy man. Match had already harmed him.

Dubbelix could sense Match's mind, his searching, ranging. More disturbingly, the g-goblin sensed the emptiness where Match's gnomes should be. He had killed them. They were dead. Everyone in the complex was in grave danger.

"It is a weapon called Match."

Jim hissed through his teeth, moved Desmond away from the painful points on his back. He did not dare put him down, as other tremors rocked the elevator. "It flies. Laser vision. What else can it do?"

Jim had to meet the patrol on floor 40. Get off whenever the elevator became unsafe (it would soon. Too soon. Dubbelix's fingers curled like claws. Faster, he urged the patrol, faster). "I don't-"

Jim's mind was too calm. Pain, danger, adrenaline, everything within him had leveled to a narrow point. Two objectives: Desmond and Jake. "Dubbelix, focus. I need everything you have. Weaknesses, abilities, profile. Anything."

Had Dubbelix known weaknesses, he'd have given them then. Brother or no. But he didn't even know the extent of Match's capabilities. Only snippets, thoughts, theories gleaned from Desmond's mind. "Enhanced durability. Perhaps invulnerable. Self-propulsion. Laser vision. Resistance to temperature extremes. Nothing more I know. It is untrained, angry." Dubbelix winced at a shuddering message from Jake, dropping his work to sprint towards the nearest lift. "Jim, stay away from it. It is mentally unstable. It killed the gnomes assigned to it!"

"I know." Dubbelix caught the flicker of a small, still body across a sea of brutally shattered glass, and felt nausea. Jim had no time for sorrow, and so only felt a moment's for that snuffed out life. "How do I stop him?"

The alarms still blared on the lower floors, a thousand heartbeats rushing up above, and Dubbelix could only feel Match's, thrumming with adrenaline and hate. Certainty settled uncomfortably in Dubbelix's chest. Jim was running now, but escape was not his object. He would send Desmond to safety, Jake if he could (Jake wouldn't go), and then he would stop and fight. It was his job. His purpose. Simple, clear. Protect. Guardian.

Match would kill him. And Jim knew that, too.

So Dubbelix did not say 'You can't.' "It has humanoid anatomy. Lungs. Heartbeat. It requires breath. Likely susceptible to high voltage electric shock." He could feel Jim strategizing, brainstorming best and worst case scenarios. "Jim…support is on its way. Factor that into your plans."

Jim nodded without thinking on it long. "They'll need you to evacuate the genomorphs. My staff can't manage it. You get everyone clear."

"Already underway. Do not–"

The entire elevator lurched, throwing Jim into the wall. He grimaced, holding on for balance as the motion dug Desmond into his back. Jake gave a low shriek, and Dubbelix felt it too. Match had found this elevator shaft.

Jim did not sense this telepathically, but with some more tenuous awareness. He slammed the door-open button and held on as the elevator jerked to a stop. The doors unlatched with dragging slowness, and Jim was out too fast, bumping Desmond's head on the edge. "If you can get that patrol down any faster, Dubbelix, it'd be great. Wait, hold on." He switched lines, but Dubbelix still heard through Jake's ears. "Tanner, I'm on 45."

Metallic groaning echoed dully through the floor as the lower levels locked down, closing layers of steel and mechanics over Match. It wouldn't be enough. A distant roar of frustration reverberated in Jake's ears, and Dubbilex hoped Jim could not hear it. The g-goblin urged the patrol faster, updating Jim's position, sending the elves running ahead.

Something, either nervousness or simple faith, brought Jim back to Dubbelix's comm channel. "We've locked down 46 to 50. That won't hold him long."

"No." No point lying. No time. "There is an access staircase that will take you directly to floor 41. I will guide Jake."

Jim was surprised, but did not ask about other secret passages. "Have them meet me there." He ran at a steady, swift pace, ignoring the discomforts of Jake on his shoulder, Desmond on his back. He counted Desmond's breaths, and the groans of the metal below them.

The stairs turned in endless square spirals. Dubbelix had often used them, knew where the edges had bent, which steps creaked. He slid this knowledge into Jim, so the man neither tripped or clattered as he ran.

It made little difference. Far below, Match could hear the footsteps rumbling above his head. Dubbilex dared not touch the deranged weapon's mind deeper, remembering what that madness could do. He could not risk incapacitation, even for a moment. Their best hope was that Match could only the entire complex dashing in evacuation, unable to locate Jim. Dubbelix sprinted through the mid levels, past waves of evacuating genomorphs and personnel. If he could reach SL 45, or even 46, he could maybe slow Match without anyone realizing his psychic abilities. Failing that, at least he could try–

"Achilles! Am I glad to see you." Jim had barely opened the door on 41 when the g-elf careened around the corner, teeth parted to track Jim's scent. Only the sight of Desmond on Jim's back stopped Achilles from launching himself up onto Jim's arm in greeting. Jim spared a smile, catching his breath. "The others?"

Farther behind, Dubbelix could sense the rest of the patrol. It would take precious minutes for the full squad to catch the elves. Jim understood some part of this from Achilles' growling sounds, as two more elves rounded the corner, tails whipping and bodies bristling. They milled around him worriedly as he shrugged Desmond from his shoulders. "Come here."

Elves were not meant to carry humans, but Achilles and one of the others stepped beneath the unconscious scientist, taking his weight in their arms. Achilles rose onto his back legs, protectively curling his claws around Desmond's shoulders.

Jim nodded. "Get him to a troll, then get out of here." The elves hummed nervously, but Jim waved them off. "Go. Desmond is your priority. I'm counting on you."

Achilles did not want to, but he took the mission, carrying most of Desmond's weight as he and the other elf hurried away. The third elf hovered, uncertain. Jim drew a deep breath. His back hurt, and he listened for the periodic metallic shriek of another lockdown door breaking. He reached up and caught Jake around the waist, sighing at the lessened pressure on his shoulder. "Jake, your turn."

But he drew back when Jake kicked and bit, tiny, sharp teeth attesting his shared genetics with the g-elves. Jim glared at his companion, and did not speak. Yet Dubbelix heard him all the same, louder in Jake's mind. Do you want to die? An angry mass of worry and "protect" and commander – fight, strategize, defend – bore down on Jake.

The gnome did not even blink. No. In Jim's voice, a strange echo. Then, Guardian.

"I am Guardian."

I am Guardian.

"Jake, there isn't time! I need you away before—" The entire floor lurched wildly, throwing Jim a step away from the elf. "You have to go, now!"

Up above, Dubbelix hissed, shoving a group of trolls out of his way. He was still tens of floors too high to reach them.

Jake growled, high pitched, desperate, and dug his nails into Jim's shoulder, not even falter when the movement caused Jim pain. No!

The nearby sound of sheering, sparking metal left Jim with no attention for Jake. He waved the elf away. "Make sure Dr. Desmond gets into the lift safely." Turning the other way, Jim ran towards the crashing sounds. "Tanner, tell me Desmond's up safe."

"Not yet. Sir, seismic readings are off the charts down there. Are you all right?"

"At the moment. The rest of the patrol?"

"Same floor. There are two trolls, you just have to wait for them to catch up with you."

"I don't think trolls are going to do much if it's tearing steel. What floor is it on?"

"By the readings...43."

"Not any more. Get anyone you can on this. Find who has clearance. Tell me how to stop it. Dubbelix says electricity or oxygen deprivation. Some sort of gas weapon, maybe. I'll stall."

"I'm sending backup down now. Sir, be careful."

"As soon as Desmond is safe, lock down these levels. Whatever happens, it can't get out into the upper floors before evacuations finish."

"It won't come to that."

"Just tell me when Desmond is secure. Guardian out."

The building held strangely still and silent. Jim paused, listening for the creak of metal. To Dubbilex up on SL 33, surrounded by panicked evacuating staff and the psychic hubbub of frightened genomorphs, the stillness on Jim's level felt unnerving, unnatural. Match was still hunting, still ripping and tearing. That twisted wrongness in the clone's mind was boiling, somehow tied to the concept of "super," and hearing Jim speak that word had set Match's entire mind on fire. Every time Match heard Jim's voice he honed closer.

Jim knew, somehow. He was the first who'd attacked him, after all. He posited (hoped? Even Jim was not suicidal, but he was steadfast) speaking would buy the others time. "Dubbelix, what's wrong with him?"

Dubbelix tried to conceal his hurried breathing without knowing why "Something in Match went wrong. His mind is twisted."

Jim kept running, but something inside him stilled. He thought of the dead little creature on the ground in the lab. "Gnomes…can do that?" They can get it wrong?

Dubbilex had no time to lie. Jake held silent, hoping if he did not speak Jim would not leave him (Dubbelix would not put it past the man had he more time to think). Dubbelix grit his teeth, seeing the jagged gaps he and Jake had carved in Jim's mind. "Yes."

The dead gnome remained still and cold in Jim's thoughts as he listened for the signal of Desmond's safe ascension. He knew without Dubbilex telling that Match could not see reason.

When notification came, Tanner sounded relieved. "Desmond's clear! Head to the south lift, I have a second patrol with suppression gear on their way down. They're on SL 30!" She paused a moment, listening to a report off-mike. "Sir, I think it's chasing after you…drag it out a bit longer and we'll take it dow—"

One corner of the wall exploded inwards. Jim dove to avoid shrapnel, shrieking pieces gouging the floor like bullets. Match floated into the hall, fists clenched, solar suit frayed and tattered, as a g-troll thundered around the far corner. Sighting the intruder, the troll bellowed a challenge and charged.

Devoid of fear even of so massive creature he had never seen, Match returned the troll's roar, surging forward as his eyes lit red. Jim realized the weapon's intent faster than anyone else. "Watch out!"

Lasers seared through the air, blinding all who did not shield their eyes. The troll dodged the brunt of the blast, but melted slag from the wall splattered onto its thick grey skin with an awful roasting sound. Jake screamed, and Dubbilex was unsure if he did, as well. The troll howled deep in its throat, head reared back, and that gave Match the opening he needed to ram forward his fists. The blow knocked the troll into the air, and Match seized its foot, pivoting the massive body in a full circle before hurling the poor creature through two walls. When it finally settled, it lay still amid hissing runoff from several shattered lab tanks.

Humans did not feel pain as genomorphs did, connected to each other's minds and bodies. The troll was still alive, in pain, its central bone structure bent out of line, skin burned by metal slowly cooling and solidifying across its neck and face. It keened, and both Dubbilex and Jake rushed to pull it into unconsciousness, before it brought greater pain upon itself. Dubbilex was dimly aware of his hands shaking.

Match waited to see if his opponent moved again. When it did not, he rotated in the air to regard Jim.

The man had seen Match overpower a g-troll, more than ten times his own strength. Yet nothing in him faltered. "Tanner, it's here." Jim spoke softly, voice carefully level. "Lock down up till 31."

"We don't have to-"

"Now. Whatever backup's here, it'll have to be enough. Set up a third line upstairs, you stop it if it comes up. This does not get to the street."

"…Roger that."

Match hovered through this exchange, listening with interest. His eyes moved slowly from Jim, to Jake, then back to Jim again, seeking the source of Tanner's voice. He narrowed his eyes, and Dubbelix felt his vision shift, saw him look through skin and bone until he found the comlink in Jim's ear. Match watched blood in veins, the steady, fast heartbeat, lungs contracting and expanding. He saw a collection of layers, just like this building he was peeling back floor by floor.

Jim listened for the other troll. He didn't want to watch that again. "I'm not going to let you keep going."

Match understood speech. His lip curled in a scowl. Again, his eyes moved, this time to Jake. He picked a point in Jake's brain at random, pondering lobotomizing the gnome right then. Match had stopped the voices in his head that way last time, and reasoned if he did so to this man it might incapacitate him, given how difficult it had been for Match himself to adjust to the wide silence after he'd killed the small, awful creatures.

Before Dubbelix could finish his own warning, Match shifted to avoid an energy blast past his ear, attention back on Jim, who scowled ferociously. "Pay attention. You don't get to mess with him until you're done with me."

Jake protested, but Dubbelix pushed him back, warning him. One gnome alone could not subdue Match. He had broken free not through telepathy, but through jagged madness, weakening the minds that held him until he gained will sufficient to kill. Now he had few aims save continued freedom and to kill again. To reach closely enough to stop him required meshing with his mind, and Dubbelix knew the harm of that. If that got to the genomorph network, they would all die.

But Jim, Jake protested–GAH!

Match lunged, and Jim threw Jake off his shoulder. The movement cost him the first strike, no time to counter the foe barreling down on him.

To Dubbelix's astonishment, Jim evaded the strike, as if unfazed by steel-crushing strength. Jim's mind was clear still, precise, focused. He couldn't win in terms of strength. He didn't have to. If he lasted until backup arrived, there was some hope of subduing this maniac. If not, well, Jim would buy them time upstairs.

Here, Dubbelix beheld the difference between taught, and trained. Match could strike, knew his body's power and instinctively how to use it to harm. But Jim knew fighting, what he could do and couldn't, and what his enemy could even hovering in midair. He dodged, he blocked, he bent Match's momentum against him with almost a little thought as Dubbelix bent minds.

But Jim's training countered someone he could block, not Match. Each impact's reverberations lanced up Jim's arms, forcing him to brace with both hands as the injured bones in his shoulder ground against each other. A fraction of Match's strength knocked him back. Jim used that to his advantage, ducking Match's next strike and rolling. He felt but hardly register pain in his shoulder, recognized only the hindrance, curtailing use of his shield arm.

He could still reach the trigger.

Match brushed off the blast with a roar, swiping for the man as he rolled out of range again. The paltry blows Jim landed goaded him, even if they'd damaged Jim more. Untried and inexperienced, Match still knew Jim would not stop unless made to. Frustration simmered over him to have taken so long.

His next strike was faster, and Jim only partially deflected it. The graze barely connect across his ribs, but Jim's stance buckled, unable to absorb the blow. Match pressed his advantage, fingers gouging a handhold in Jim's chestplate. With easy, lazy strength, he dragged the man off the ground and threw him.

Jim slammed into the wall with an sharp choking sound. Dubbilex heard more than felt Jim's shoulder blade snap, but felt enough to cringe: sudden jagged edges stabbed forward, driven by the wall. Jim hit the ground pain-blind, throat closed, struggling to weather the sudden bone dagger in his back.

Match drifted closer, listening with interest. He'd never heard a human suffer before.

Dubbilex was still trying to stay upright, past Jake's screeching and the mess of agony in Jim. Match was too close, and Jim was not moving, shuddering on the floor as his world greyed out. If he did not master this now, he would lose consciousness, body shut down by the shock. He would die!

Breathe! Dubbelix forced the motion into him, feeling dark relief at Jim's shock of pain as he reflexively obeyed.

Stop it! Jim coughed, already dragging his body up on his good arm. Astonished, Dubbelix realized he must have sent that command with voice, and Jim heard him. And…and Jim had remained conscious. There was a wall in his mind, not psychic but built of will, which he had reached, and stopped. Held. Something related to focus, and purpose, and need. The pain in his back, the air to thin and slow in his lungs, all of it sizzled beyond that wall, unable to catch him. Jim did not need Dubbelix's help to stand again.

Jim ground his teeth, glaring past the white spots to find Match. He could not feel his left hand, and his shoulder useless. The shield's weight dragged unbearably, but he had other priorities. He recognized Dubbelix's presence, and he did not even ask.

Match scowled to see him rise again, but the weapon could smell the salt of blood in the air Jim breathed. He knew the man was damaged, and could not fight much longer. This, at least, pleased him.

Jim saw the weapon analyzing, but did not antagonize him. He still had the comlink in his ear. "Dubbelix." He did not need to speak, but he did anyway, each syllable a bite of pain. "If I black out…don't let me…"

Jim believed Dubbelix could do that, recognized when the g-elf forced breath into him before. Dubbelix had no choice but to believe so as well. He had never used a mind to force a body past its limits. But even in pain Jim thought in calm objectives, steadying the panic in Dubbilex without even trying.

This wasn't about winning. Thus, it did not matter that he could not win. He did not need to.

Dubbelix was flying, hurling lockdown doors out of his way, their banging closed behind him echoing in his bones like phantom pains. But he knew he would not be reach them for precious minutes. Jim was waiting, breathing unsteadily, standing. He…he had to give him something. "Jim. I will."

He was out of contingencies. He could not risk frontal assault on Match's mind. If Match's condition were contagious (Jim's psyche was), such a risk could permanently taint the future of not just Dubbelix, but every genemorph. He could not risk that.

Match's eyes were dark, black and empty, and felt as if they looked at Dubbilex as the weapon chose a target on Jim's body. Something akin to focus crystalized in his mind, something twisted that Jim would never have created, and Dubbelix felt it, tense and coiled and linked to a sea of glass and death. It, he knew without needing to ask how, was wrong. Deadly. Final.

Match moved, and a sound twisted out of Dubbilex that he could not recognize.

Match was fast. Jim barely had time for deadly certainty: there was no dodging this. He raised his shield to meet Match's fist. Then the wall behind and his shield in front ripped the air from his lungs. The wall cracked, Jim choked past suddenly broken ribs, recoiling from a source of pain inside him. Match caught Jim's neck then, and slammed him to the ground.

In that moment, Dubbelix lost Jim. Nothing. A blank.

Dubbelix did not panic. No. He did not. He knew Jim better. He didn't panic, because Jim was stubborn. Focused. Jim did not need him to stand up. Jim! Jim, wake up!

Then, dimly, pain answered him. Close, tight, suffocating pain. Jim opened an eye. He saw before he could think or move, before he felt anything but bone in his chest. He lay on the cracked tiles, and shuddered, and could not breathe. Dubbelix had never felt him so weak. Jim!

Jim didn't hear. The part of him Dubbelix could touch was stifled and still, too buried and stunned to process. He breathed anyway, shifting a xylophone of daggers in his chest. The pain roiled, thick and dark and choking him until he had to breathe again, to change where it hurt. The next bit of him to surface was simple. Clear. Focused.

Match.

Match cocked his head curiously, watching blood specks dot the ground by Jim's mouth and nose. He'd been smelling it on Jim's breath, but never seen it before. Match could look down through snapped bones and altered blood flow, enough to know Jim's body was having trouble functioning, unlikely to fight again. The weapon would turn to Jake soon. But, for now, unthreatened and unhurried, he crouched and quizzically smudged a blood drop with his thumb.

Jim saw him. Movement was like sliding a sharp comb beneath his sternum, up into his lungs, but Jim found the strength to grab Match's arm. He couldn't move further, could barely hold on. But it didn't matter. Focus. Guard. Match's attention was on him now.

Match glowered, pulling his arm free easily. Jim sluggishly tried again. Annoyed, Match batted his hand down, holding it still with a grip an elephant couldn't have moved. Squinting at the eye-hole in Jim's helmet, the weapon looked down through skin and flesh and skull until he found the artery he wanted. Dubbelix could see it. Match could just break Jim's neck, but in the depths of his Cadmus programming Match had learned to be efficient. No need to exert extra effort. Burning down through the brain would do just as well.

Jim didn't feel afraid. He had to keep his eyes open, stay conscious on those blood specked tiles. A whole world of dark and pain and quiet waited beyond them, Dubbelix couldn't hold it at bay, and if Jim didn't keep himself back, he'd fall over the edge. Lose Match's interest, cease to be a threat.

Dubbilex snarled. The fool! He should not have seized the weapon's attention! He would die! Jim was not mad! He was not suicidal! He did not want to die!

Match pressed down until Jim's arm was numb, until the bones groaned. And Dubbelix could see it, hear it, feel it, but he could not stop it. Match's eyes glowed red, hissing with heat.

But the lasers did not fire. The weapon clutched his head with a scream, because Jake was roaring, filling the psychic link with sound and pain and jagged claws grating on Match's mind. The gnome's horns glowed brighter than Match's eyes, and his little body shook with rage, his mind a wild, ruthless thing.

Jake did not link with Match. He mauled him. Like a hunting creature, the gnome struck and slashed, until the weapon's back arched with agony, eyes red and wide and terrified, fingers gouging into his skull.

Jake! The gnome did not answer at first, but Dubbelix persisted, pushing through a haze of hatred (where had Jake learned hatred!?). Stopping Match was right, but this was not! Jake could obliterate him, shred Match's mind until he was no longer a consciousness. And in that moment of fierce protect-guard-rage, Dubbelix found Jake's wanted to.

No! Match, no matter who he'd hurt, no matter his risk, was a brother, and you did not do that to your brothers!

For a moment, Jake held out, and made Match scream. But then, not from Dubbelix, but from Jim came a slow, pain-drunk objection. Match's screams frightened Jim as little did. Jim knew, on some level Dubbilex would never understand, that Jake did this. And Jim, with that strange, outside understanding that came from the world, knew it for what it was. Because it wasn't subduing.

Wrong. Jim knew that, like he knew his name, like he knew his purpose, his failings and the things that he could not let happen. J-Jake, no…

Jake gave a little, desperate snarl, wild with grief and hate. But then he changed. Match trembled, body rigid, but his screaming stopped. And Dubbelix looked on in wonder, because Jake still did not link with the weapon's mind. Instead, the gnome turned his psychic claws into walls, and forced these around Match's mind, closer and closer, edges reaching for each other.

A box. He was trapping Match, his madness and his viciousness and everything that let him hurt those around him, in a box. Behind those psychic walls, the darkness in Match's mind that had attacked Dubbelix could not reach Jake.

Dubbelix recognized those walls.

Match did not, but he had been trapped too long not to leap from sensation to understanding. He panicked, lashed out against the power confining him. Match was no more psychic than Jim, but he was strong and desperate and insane,and he would not be held.

He struggled until his mind tore, and Match feared nothing, not cracks or splinters or madness. He was jagged and misaligned already, it could not harm him more, so he did not stop. No psychic was prepared for that, for a mind that maimed itself in defense. Jake's hold slipped.

Seizing that gap, Match lashed out with his eyes before Jake could re-establish control. Dubbelix stumbled, Jake's cry in his throat as he felt lasers sear at skin that wasn't his, concentration completely shattered. He felt Jim choke, Jake reeling, and everything was a mess of pain and wrenching fear. Dubbelix could not even tell who's suffering usurped his senses until Match struck and Jake was too slow to evade it (gnomes weren't meant for combat. They weren't meant for movement).

Jake hit the wall. Bone cracked, again, and Dubbelix knew that sound now. He had to block what he could from his mind as Jake curled on the ground, agony flaring in Dubbelix's leg as if he were the one who had crumpled down. And Jim was drifting too far, barely clinging to consciousness. Jake was tied so deep that the bleed-off carved a raw, jagged hole in the willpower holding him. The knives in him rippled, and pushed him down, and he couldn't call for Jake because he couldn't breathe.

But Jake was awake, still, and in an eerie echo of his companion, some part of his mind remained clear. Focused. And that part took a bright core of purpose, guardian, knowledge, and pressed it into Dubbelix.

I…figured it out.

Jim's voice. Jake's thought. And Dubbelix saw what he needed to do. He stopped running.

Match shook his head violently, as if to knock free the gnome's influence. He was listening again, hearing Jake's little gasps and the thick choking in Jim's throat. He despised both sounds. The gnome was hateful to him, a creature he would kill in spite, and Jim's interest had long faded. Wipe them clean, obliterate them.

Dubbelix let his horns ignite, reaching out of his body until he barely felt it.

You will not.

Jake's mind held very still, because if he faltered he'd slip loose (gnomes were not meant to feel pain, had no durability to it). But Jim shook, struggling to move, to protect, with that same useless, futile need that always drove him. In the dark, Jim groped past knives and blood and his own body, finding no strength but knowing how close he was, and suffering for it. The fool would not stop.

Could not stop. Guard. Protect. All he had. Flashes of lucidity that Dubbilex could catch, like a heartbeat. He could hold onto that.

He settled around Jim like a safety net. Jim could not speak, thoughts scattered, but Dubbelix could. It will be all right. (I have you. Jim? Jim…)

You won't kill them, brother.

Match tensed, searching for a new enemy. Dubbilex watched him with detached pity. Unlike Jake, the g-goblin's judgment was not clouded. Match was a brother, and a strong one. One way or another, they would find a way for him to serve the genomorph cause.

But that did not change the fact he slaughtered his own kin. And Dubbilex was not above anger. As the weapon bristled, recognizing telepathy, Dubbelix channeled Jake's thoughts with his own, and forced them into the weapon, slid through Jake's crumbling fortifications.

You will not harm [him] them again.

Match snarled, struggled, unsure how to fight an enemy he could not see. But he had no chance, madness or no. Not anymore.

Jake hissed, sharp, quiet satisfaction. Dubbelix finished the box with one sharp thrust, before Match could reel back in surprise.

The weapon slumped down to his knees, eyes wide and vacant and still, trapped inside his own mind, and Dubbelix could hold him, contain him. Long enough for other gnomes to take over. Long enough to listen to the corridor filled with the harsh, thudding heartbeats of a man who couldn't breathe, and the gnome he was calling for who couldn't move.