Flashing lights, falling stars, sparks came at me from all directions. My ears rang. And as the world spun, with me spinning with it, time stood still.

An array of muffled voices and shouts hit my ears, but I couldn't hear them over the ringing. My mind was as clouded as the hall filled with smoke; my body as heavy as the hot air around me. I struggled to turn and flip on my back, to look at the ceiling, but I saw nothing but shades of grey and black.

And shadows of them.

"Xerses!" I made out Roger's voice, stifled by the clouded mess. His shadow moved around the smoke beside me until he became clear, glowing in the light of the sparks that spit out from small flames. Concrete slabs slid off his back; blood dripped out of the ripped corners of his suit. There was no pain when he moved, as if he didn't feel the deep gashes on his arms and legs. I reached out to touch him, but he didn't see me.

"Xerses!" he shouted again.

With trembling hands, I turned on my stomach to look around. The walls were done, wires exposed; power still ran through the panels destroyed in the blasts. Four blasts; four bombs.

"Bombs, really!" Roger pushed over parts from the fallen ceiling. "You tried to blow us up, you coward!"

I wiped dirt and gravel off the side of my face as I looked back behind us. The walls were destroyed there, too. How had he done it? And why? Destroying these computers meant the Codes had no home to return to... which meant the citizens were lost in the system. Dread filled my belly as I squeezed my eyes shut.

Fuck, what had he done?

A low groan made me turn my head. Matthews lay a foot from me, face bloodied and cut. The hand pressed to his chest still clutched his gun. Through the grey that separated the air, I reached for him, straining my fingers to grab his hand. When I touched him, he opened just one eye. "Clara."

Struggling to sit up, I pulled him close to my lap and checked his face. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm—" he coughed and squeezed his eyes shut, "—alive."

Roger shouted again, this time with no words. The sound hit me, went through me, and made my head snap up fast. The dizzy spell that came over me left just as quickly, and I watched him, felt him. His rage was as hard as his breaths; my heart beating with the same ferocity. I knew, because once the ringing faded, I heard the static instead—his static.

"Roger..." I whispered his name.

He looked back, just as screams echoed above us. His eyes turned bright, pulsing at the sound of gunfire and explosions. The Domes above us were overrun, crumbling from the surface down to the lower levels, and he knew; he knew it was more than Xerses' attack.

"No, Roger!" Xerses' voice was loud and clear within the hall. "You don't understand!"

Roger's head snapped back around. He stepped back once, then twice, but it wasn't enough space between the two of them. Xerses jumped through the smoke with outstretched arms, and he collided with Roger head on. My heart screamed as the two, both injured and bleeding from various wounds, crashed back into the collapsing walls.

"Traitor!" Roger punched Xerses in the jaw, bringing him down to one knee; and when he stood, Roger swung again. "After all I've fucking done for you!"

"You? For me?" Xerses caught Roger's fist before it met his face. He pulled Roger's arm down, drawing out a cry of pain. "You've done nothing for me! All you've done is destroy my life!"

"Me!" Roger's cry turned into a growl as he pushed back. When Xerses stumbled, he pressed his arm into his neck, but Xerses pressed back, fingers just under his chin. Fire broke out of the wall beside them, the light sending rage into their eyes.

Roger grunted and pushed back harder. "I didn't do shit. I protected you. Saved you. But you—"

"I'm doing what you couldn't!" Xerses pulled the strength out from the Host part of his body and lifted Roger off his feet. And with a swing, he tossed him down. "I'm keeping my promise!"

The loud echo of Roger's back hitting the floor scared me, and the sound that left him stopped my heart. I watched his eyes squeeze shut; his hands shot up to his face. He blocked Xerses' next kicking blow.

"No..." I whimpered, putting Matthews down beside me. It took all of my strength to stand, to move, but when Xerses' kicked Roger again, and his scream filled my ears, static erupted with it.

"They wanted to be free!" Xerses shouted. "They wanted to live!"

With a groan, I staggered, coughed and rubbed blood from my lip, but kept myself up. Firm. The pain on Roger's face urged my legs to move, to run. Memories from our time training through his endurance course flashed through my mind. Back then, I dodged faster than I ever knew I could, I jumped higher than I knew I was capable of.

I had to do it again, no matter what.

"Stop..." I slid my hand over a clump of wall and used its weight to push myself forward. My legs lifted over the next bit of rubble, sliding over the charred brick and stone to land on my feet. I reached the clear part of the hall; my feet broke through the cloud of smoke. I pushed forward, focused and ready, and when I was only a foot away from them both—before Xerses could land another hit on him—I lunged.

With one blow, I tackled him, winded him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. His spine hit the wall behind him, his blood on my suit.

And I forced my eyes shut.

"Clara, what—"

"Stop this," I whimpered against his chest, squeezing my arms tight, "stop fighting."

His breath hitched and his hand hovered over my head, as if he'd hit me, but he didn't. Behind me, Roger shifted on the floor.

"Clara..." Xerses' voice was combined with Verba's, except this time, it was different. Like two emotions pulled opposite of each other—one angry, one pained.

"Stop." I squeezed harder. "Fighting." And harder. "Please!"

I looked up as Xerses looked down and we locked eyes for the longest we'd ever done. The dark brown in his eyes shifted from blue, to black, to white. His hands came down, his fingers digging into the sides of my suit. He pulled for a moment, muttering under his breath, but I didn't let go. Because I knew what I'd done.

When I'd pushed him into the wall, I hurt his spine. I may have forgotten how to shoot, but I sure as hell could punch.

"You don't have to do this." I pushed his back further into the wall. "You can stand down. You can sleep."

A wounded breath left him as he slumped back, eyes to the ceiling. The color returned to blue for a moment. Tears rimmed the edges. "Why..." Verba's voice came out on its own this time, a near whimper that leaked into a cry.

I swallowed my emotions before they consumed me. "Verba." I spoke to just her this time. "You can stand down... stop fighting."

Roger stood beside us, his breath hard, his body shaking like a leaf. He tugged at my arm, but I didn't want to let go. I thought if I held him there, I would be the one to free him, to get Verba to shut down. Because, I knew, it wasn't him that meant to do this; he wouldn't jeopardize us all.

"Let him go, Clara," Roger ordered, his voice stern and direct.

I looked at him as I removed one arm and allowed Xerses to slide an inch down the wall. When I pulled my second hand free, Roger kept him still by the muscle of his shoulder. They locked eyes, but it was Roger who bared teeth. His hands in fists.

Xerses looked broken, confused, stuck between his conscious and unconscious personality. Yet, I knew Verba had gone, slipping back into the peace I told her she could have. Could it have been that easy? Or, was it because no one told her she could go?

Roger tugged Xerses away from the wall and through the smoke. "You're going to tell me everything and help me. Understand?"

When they passed over Matthews' body, I think I heard him say, "yes."

♦

The computers may have been destroyed but the data hadn't been wiped clean. According to Roger, the room Erica and the others had protected stored it all—every bit of save data, every ounce of soul. Our fight was far from over and it gave me a sense of relief.

What didn't, was Xerses.

Roger practically dragged him through the halls as I managed to help Matthews to his feet. When we reached the room, he barricaded it closed, but not before tying Xerses to a chair to keep him there. As he struggled against his bounds, I watched Roger, then Erica, the two muttering to each other about things I guess I wasn't meant to hear.

"What is it?" I asked her as she walked past me to check on Matthews. She wiped at the blood on his face, inspected his wounds, but didn't say a word to me. So, I grabbed her arm. "Tell me."

Erica looked at me, then behind me, at Roger. He watched monitors that hung on the wall, attached to cameras I hadn't known existed. Each screen gave view to a different Dome, a different room. He could even see corners of the city we wouldn't see through any open window. Those were the monitors that flashed with blinking light; ricocheting bullets.

Before I could talk to him, too, Roger turned and knelt beside me, hand on my face. Tenderly, he slid his thumb along my cheek. "Are you okay?" he asked, looking me over. "The blast... did it...?"

"No." I knew what he wanted to ask. "It didn't hurt me, not like that. I'm bruised, but..."

I looked over towards Matthews. His eyes were closed, lips pulled between his teeth as he struggled to breathe. With a sigh, I looked back at Roger, inspecting his wounds. "Are you okay?" I asked him, touching his bloodied arm. "This looks bad..."

He shrugged a bit and tried to smile, but I saw mixed emotions in his eyes. "I'm all right, I'll heal." He shook his arm for good measure. "See, the little bots are working already. I've had worse."

Worse? From the last war?

"So, don't worry," he added.

"How can I not?" I bit my lip, gripping the folds of my pantlegs. "Everything's gone wrong."

"Not yet." He touched my cheek once more before he stood and rummaged through a bag in the corner of the room. From it, he pulled out syringes and vials, and tossed them at Erica. She caught them with ease, then cradled Matthews' head on her lap and pressed a full syringe into his neck. When he groaned in discomfort, she shushed him, and rubbed his face. "It's okay," she whispered, but I could barely hear her voice.

I heard Roger's instead.

"Who did it?" Roger bent beside Xerses' chair, hand slamming into the wall behind him. At first, Xerses didn't make a sound, so Roger grabbed his chin and forced him to lock onto his gaze. "Who helped you?"

"I...." Xerses couldn't find his next words. I could still see the tears in his eyes. Inside, I was... conflicted.

Roger slammed his hand again, the impact echoing quietly in the room. Blood dropped again from his sleeves. "Talk, damnit!" He inched closer, snarling as the glow of his blue eyes blended with Xerses. "People are dying up there!"

"He told her where he put them." Xerses seemed distant. "He hid the remote in my pillow."

He?

"Who did?" Roger dropped his tone.

Xerses paused as he looked at us both. I stood behind Roger, rubbing the bruises that formed on my arms. His eyes settled on me the longest. Pain slid across his face. He couldn't do it, he couldn't say it, but I took a step forward and shook my head.

If he couldn't tell Roger, but he could tell me, right?

"Who did it?" I asked him. "We're running out of time."

He pursed his lips before closing his eyes. His chest fell, as did his head. "Bessel," he whispered, "Bessel did it."

"W-What?" I shifted back and held my breath. It made sense. I knew... there was just something about him, something off. And I'd known it from the second I first saw him.

"He'd done it while... no one was looking." Xerses struggled to talk. "He made sure no one suspected him... he...."

Roger backed away from us both, pressing his hands into his hair.

"He never meant to help." Xerses lifted his head. "His receptor? He still has it. He's been a Code all along...."

I stepped back and looked up at the monitors, watching the screens that showed the war outside. Everyone fought with cause, for a purpose; Peace fought for the greater good. And yet, a Code managed to sneak in and tear us down from the inside. Disguised as a member we were supposed to trust, he'd been on Zara's side, plotting against us one step at a time.

"His hard exterior? That attitude?" Xerses took in a deep breath. "That's not Bessel, but Albertson—the soul inside him. He was a rebel who didn't care about the fight back then, and doesn't care now..."

Roger rushed over to the monitors, his shoulder gently bumping mine as his eyes danced and watched the screens. I knew what he looked for, because I'd done the same. He searched for Bessel. Yet, the man was like a ghost on the screen.

"Roger..." I reached to grab his hand, but he wouldn't look at me. "What are we supposed to do? If he's had men on the inside, what's telling what he can and can't do? What if there's another surprise attack?"

"There might be," he muttered, slowly shaking his head, "but we can't take that chance..."

"All right," I nodded, agreeing, "so what's the plan?"

He went still for a moment, focused, mute. His fingers gripped mine tight, his arms flexed. Blood and sweat trickled down his face when he slowly looked down, then up at me. I blinked at him, waiting for him to tell me what to do, but he turned to Erica right after. "Hey—" he pointed at one of the syringes he'd given her, "—shoot me up."

"What?" Erica stared down at the meds by her lap. "No, I can't. These aren't for you."

Alex, who'd been watching the door, finally stepped forward into our small crowd. "She's right," she said. "These are outdated remedial shots. Sure, they'll help Matthews get back on his feet, but you..." she shook her head, "I don't know what it'd do to your bots."

Roger wouldn't listen and left his eyes on Erica.

But she shook her head. "I can't, Roger. They're meant to rejuvenate muscles, tissues... that's what your nano-bots are for. If I give you this, it'll—"

"Erica." Roger turned his arm and showed her the wounds that went down it. Blood dripped down his wrist. "I don't have time to explain. Just give me the dose."

Erica winced, trying to hide the syringe. But Roger was relentless. He stepped towards her, arm still outstretched and bleeding. This time, he pleaded. "Do it, please. I've got to go."

"Go where?" I searched his face as he refused to look at me. "Where are you going? We don't even have a plan."

"We do," he said as Erica reluctantly stood and wiped the blood from his arm. "We're going back to plan A."

"Plan A?" I shook my head. "What the hell was Plan A?"

The fluid within the syringe was clear, but when Erica injected it into his arms, his veins glowed blue. It traveled up his forearm as he tightened his fist. Yet, that wasn't the only place I saw it move. It went up through the veins in his neck, his face; the skin under his eyes glowed bright.

"Plan A." He readjusted the sleeve of his suit and cupped my face. "We get into Polk's office and shut down the machine, delete the program. Stop it from controlling us."

Us—he said us.

"Roger, I—" No... I couldn't do the plan then; I couldn't do it now.

"We'll go in, shut it down. Simple. We almost did it before, we can do it this time. I know exactly what went wrong."

I shook my head, fear gripping my chest. All eyes fell on me. "Wait, but I—"

"Clara, we got to move before Bessel does any more damage." Roger pressed his forehead against mine. "I need you with me. Please."