Warnings: Short and silly.
Jim stood firm against his foe. He'd come prepared - his senses tightly reined in, his weapons at the ready - only one of them would survive this day, and Jim intended it to be him.
There was just no way he would ever give up. To do so would be to admit defeat - and worse, to have let them win.
This was a battle for control. If he wavered even for a moment in his determination to always be at least one step ahead of them, they would take over completely - an unconquerable scourge against all that decent people held dear...
He found one more of his enemy trying to hide in the far corner under the bed. "Oh, no you don't," he hissed as the little bugger slid further back. His eyes were cold as he disposed of the offender, already scanning the area for anything else he'd missed.
"It's dead, Jim." Blair's voice broke in on his concentration. "You've beaten them again - there's not a dust-bunny left alive in this loft."
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