My Better Half
Disclaimer: I, in no way, shape, or form own Xiaolin Showdown or the characters it contains. All are the intellectual property of Christy Hui and Cartoonnetwork/WB. I do not make any profit off of this story, and write it only for enjoyment and to pass the time. However, I do claim ownership to the writing itself, and hope that those who read this can respect that as well.
Category: Action/Snugglies!
Pairings: N/A – though I am told G!Jack and Jack pairing is implied. Go with whichever makes you happier, I suppose.
Warning(s): Some foul language is used, and there are some light jokes toward Jack's dubious sexuality. These are teenagers, people. Some mild fighting and apparently implied love. (Why does it seem like it?? I just don't see it…) MAY CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-3. So, if that's going to shatter your entire world, you might want to skip this.
Rating: Teen; to err on the side of caution
Setting: Beyond Season four, maybe a year or two after the last episode, may contain spoilers. Mildly AU in the fact that a leader has not been chosen yet, though this is not mentioned. Assuming the whole time-traveling finale episode never took place/has not yet taken place, and that G!Jack is still in the Ying Yang World.
Summary: Jack!Centric: Sorry, no romance. Jack finds himself on a losing slope, and decidedly lacking in allies. So, the self-proclaimed Evil Boy Genius does something about it, with what could have disastrous repercussions on his 'evil' status….
Style: First Person, one POV (Point of View): Jack's
Additional Notes: I find G! Jack both frightening and adorable. Now, I'm not entirely happy with the final result – Kimiko came across too much of a…well, bitch, then what I believe she really is. So, we are going to assume she is having a Very Bad Week, if you know what I mean. Not to mention G! Jack seems a little more out of character than I'd like, but artistic liberties were taken – plus, he's just so drattedly cute…and disturbing. I tried to stay true to the spirit of the show, and I think I got pretty darn close…compared to what I usually end up doing to any character that falls under the horrifying, warped monstrosity that is my pen.
This was written completely on a whimsy, and over a couple days (I avoid planning like the plague) – thus, it is completely unedited and unchecked. There are probably plot holes you could drive a semi truck through…however, I am ever too lazy to go back over it. Nonetheless, criticism is greatly appreciated, and I would love to hear your thoughts on how this could improve.
Part One:
One is the Loneliest Number
"Jack-bots, attack!" It was the usual line, the usual event, and the usual cast. Nothing new, nothing interesting. Still, I plastered my trademark sneer on; striking my most imposing posture…that really wasn't all that impressive. What, with all my sheer manliness, you'd think people would be at least a little afraid, right?
Oh, yeah, I'm one-hundred-twenty-nine pounds of He-man.
It's days like these I really hate my genes. Skinny, skinny, skinny – to be frank, I'm built like a piece of macaroni: bendy, pale, and easily torn.
But, more to the point, I was frantically running between bursts of fire and metal and shrapnel – all that was left of another wave of robots – reaching toward the newest Shen Gong Wu. By this time, I really didn't care what it did; any victory at all was an amazing event. However, a certain hulking Neanderthal of a monk saw exactly where that trajectory would land me, and took measures to cease my glory.
Meaning he threw a huge rock at my face.
I screamed shrilly (I mean, I heard, uh, Kimiko scream…shrilly), unable to duck out of the way. The unyielding chunk of earth slammed my head back, feet flying up in the air as I tumbled backward. A sparking fragment of a 'bot flew over my dazed form, (I was just resting, I swear!) fire trailing after it.
"Whoo, that worked the kinks out." One of the more annoying monks stretched, conversationally regaling a heap of destroyed metal to his excruciating accent. "Man, I barely touched this one. What's in these, Spicer – nitroglycerin?" Laughing at his own stupid joke, Raimundo waved toward the object this whole battle was about. "I'm bored, let's get the Wu and get outta here."
Someone's cell phone rang.
I felt a furious twitch start in one corner of my eye.
It had been happening more and more frequently, a response to intense stress, I guess. And it was stressful! I'd like to see you spend hours and hours building armies of robots, only to have them destroyed by people who took you seriously enough to talk on the cell phone while in battle! It makes those SUV driving hogs look like considerate people.
I sat up slowly, glowering as the lone female monk chattered blithely with whoever she talked to all the time, her foot crushing a desiccated Jack-bot torso. Nearby, Clay plucked the Wu up, giving me an apologetic grin.
"Don't take it too hard, pardner," the hick said genially, "at least this time they didn't blow up all at once." He referred to last time we had…well, last time I had offered myself up on the chopping block, when I hadn't really exactly…finished all the robot repairs.
Frowning to have my craftsmanship so questioned, I turned a full sulky glare on him, frustrated that he didn't seem in the least worried. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." I waved a hand vaguely. There was a pressing need to say something snarky, but unfortunately, even my nearly infinite well of sarcasm just couldn't produce the right dis. "It's not like I can be really bothered by it anymore."
"Well, see ya later, Barbie girl," Pedrosa laughed gaily, settling onto Dojo's expanded back. "Try to not make is so easy next time, 'kay?"
"Raimundo, Jack's name is not 'Barbie'," The insufferably naïve dragon of water piped up, confusion on his large, round face. Finishing up his putting out of the fires with the Orb of Tornami, the monk turned to the mounted teen. "You know this, correct? You did not hit your head upon one of the many pieces of robot, did you?"
The twitch became marginally more intense.
"Well, you know that Spicer's kinda gir—" The Brazilian caught sight of Kimiko's scowl. Gulping, he quickly changed his heavily accented tune. "I'll, uh, tell you when you're older, Omi."
"With age comes great wisdom," Nodding sagely to himself, the cheese ball clambered atop of Dojo as well. "Patient, I shall be."
Yoda wannabe. I nearly smirked at the thought, but caught it before it could properly manifest itself. Instead, I intensified my glower, watching as the last two took their customary positions aboard serpent-esque dragon. "You know I'll just steal it later, right? Why don't you save everyone's afternoon and just leave it here?" Now standing, I tried to appear nonchalant, inwardly wincing at the thought of another long night of repairs and thievery.
"And we'll kick your hindquarters once again, Jack Spicer, and take it back." Omi chirped brightly, waving as Dojo took off - I never have understood how exactly he could fly. "See you there!"
"Yeah, well, your head looks like a basketball!" I shook a fist at him ineffectually, waiting until they were far out of sight to slump back against a wall. "Ah, man, this sucks!" I kicked a Jack-bot head across the cave, listening to the clatters that gradually faded in the distance. Now that no one was around, I gave in to a good, old-fashioned pout, sending expensive, destroyed parts in all directions. Further damage was done when I discovered, with glee, that stomping on crunchable parts was most enjoyable. With gusto, I set myself to the task, though it soon lost its appeal once I remembered I still need said parts. "Arrrgh!" Unable to longer sum up my rage by petty violence, I took to shouting guttural, meaningless sounds, and by that eloquence, adequately encapsulated my complaints.
Abruptly bored with such displays, I again fell on my rump, head flopping into my hands. What was the deal? I just couldn't get a foothold on this proverbial mountain of a problem. Everything I set my mind to failed, and miserably, at that.
Being a super villain. Uh-uh.
Building robots that didn't just explode or turn on me. Nope.
Being the greatest of all evil super villains' apprentice. No way.
Holding on to an ally for more than a few days…or at least hours. As if.
…Not being a total wuss/pansy/girly boy…well, we'll just not go into that. No to the infinite power.
I flicked my gaze downward, to a lifeless husk that remained of a Jack-bot. Gingerly, I picked up its half-smashed cranium, staring into the flat, emotionless eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, right? I mean, you guys fail at everything too. Heck, I might as well just throw your pieces at them, it'd be more effective." Snorting, I sighed and tossed the useless, unresponsive fragment over my shoulder, ignoring how it shattered on impact.
Time for more pleasant thoughts. I raked my brain, trying to find something to brighten up over. Crazy robot? Nah. What to do when I eventually take over the world? Eh, it got boring after a while. There had to be something….
When was the last time I had been successful?
I tapped my chin thoughtfully. It had been a while…quite a while, actually. No, the last time I remember winning anything was…
When Wuya was still a ghostly cohort.
Giving in to whimsy, I briefly considered begging her to come back. I'd never admit to anyone, but I was incredibly lonely without her constant nagging and put-downs. Paint me red and call me masochist, it did give me something to focus on, other than my vast sea of bumbling failures.
But in all honesty, I don't think I could handle having Wuya around. She'd become a capital bit—
I shrieked when the nearest Jack-bot detonated, shattering my train of thought. "Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick!" Flailing, I fell and rolled away, cowering, my hands flying over my head. "Oh, God, don't hurt me!" Begging pathetically, it took me a while to realize that the cave was utterly still, save for my quivering.
Peeking between my fingers, I scanned the area, suddenly, giddily glad that no one had been around to witness that. Shakily rising, I dusted myself off, re-gathering the shreds of what once was my spine. "That could happen to anyone, you know," I put one hand to the back of my head, looking at the floor. Nervous, I glanced around once more, trying to figure out just whom I was trying to convince.
Well, there was only one thing to do.
I turned to a broken arm of a robot, covered in thick soot and burn marks. Bending low, I cradled it to my chest, like a child, and crooned, "I need to get wasted."
---
"Wee!" I squealed, spinning around in my chair. In excited agitation, I stuck out my feet, knocking an entire heap of new, shiny parts to the floor in a wave of clattering destruction. "Mwahaha, you can't schtop my reign of terrrrrr-errrrr." Ignoring the horrifically mangled word, I shoved away again, sending myself spiraling into a rather hard generator. "Oouch, watch wuhere yer goin', budshey. I rule the world, sh'know." Chortling at my own prowess, I decided to be merciful and let the big guy go. Hey, even an evil genius can have bad days, right?
Chugging down another hateful gulp of the decidedly god-awful tequila, I again wondered why exactly bars were so popular. Truly, this stuff was foul. And what was that thing floating around in it? It tasted horrific. And it was chewy…like…jerky. Jerky Jerkinstien McJerkson.
"Stupid monksch," I howled to the desk, blearily attempting at focusing on the map. "…'S'all their fault, y'know."
I had been having a horrible time of it; being so easily cast aside by the monks stung more than I had thought it would. Really stabbed ya in the heart, you know? Not to mention the mocking of a certain currently deactivated robot, once built in desperation of loneliness.
Still, the buzz I was working on did add a more happy sheen to the day.
"…And, and, he wasch all, like, like, 'my name is Crud?!'. Ohh, man, that…wasch priceless!" I snorted to the presently off Yes-bot. "I mean, I mean, he didn't even…know what wasch going on, y'know? And his, his mom was like, this old fat lady. Ha, yeah, fat, and she had this, this, mole…thing. Like…like, shcha'know? Yeah? Oh my god, I dun' remember what I wasch talksing about!" Finding this uproariously funny, I laughed until I fell off the chair, curling into a ball of mirth. Though, somehow, along the way, I started sobbing.
"Oh, man, I miss them already," I pulled the Yes-bot down to me, hugging him tightly while mascara ran down my face in a goopy grey trail. "I love those guys! We're bestest friends, y'know. So…so, when I like, rule the world, n'all, when I have ta, ya know, elim-elim-elimmmm-innnnate them, that, that, that's gonna suck, y'know? 'Cause, cause, those guys, they're alright, y'know? I wasch almost good once, didja know?" I looked expectantly at the Yes-bot, not in the least disturbed by his manic grin. In fact, I smiled back exactly the same way. "Yeah, that was crazy."
I began to blubber again, rubbing my face against the cold metal. "Ah, man, I'm soooo lonely." Affectionately looking into those freakish eyes, I crooned, "You're my only friend, y'know. I love you, man!" Then, frowning darkly, I squinted at his blank form. "But not like that. I dun swing that way!"
Wobbling up to my feet, I staggered into a relatively authoritative stance, thrusting one hand high into the air. "Jack Spicer swings for no one!"
It was here that I fainted.
---
"Dude, you're not looking too hot." Raimundo backed away, wary of catching some horrible disease, no doubt. And I was sure I looked the part of a diseased soul.
Early this morning, I had woken up to the most awful set of sensations I had ever experienced. Cold on the floor, with a pounding headache and fluffy tongue, I came to consciousness with a wrench in my mouth and doused in tequila, the Yes-bot draped over my chest, and no idea of how he (or I) got there. In fact, the whole drinking fiasco was a blur of images and colors, hidden deeply behind the sheen of an acute hangover. However, Shen Gong Wu hunting waits for no drunkard, and so I had dragged my sorry, regretful carcass to the scene.
I hadn't bothered to check my appearance, I was very certain I was a wreck. Without proper care, my wild hair went in all directions. On the way there I had made an honest effort of wiping off that sticky mess that was once my badass eyeliner (snort), but all I succeeded in was getting it everywhere. Cranky and tired and sore, I merely stared at the monks, wishing for all the world I was back and tucked into my warm, terribly inviting bed.
But no. Here I was, about to get whooped again, in the middle of a god awful desert in Australia. Life sucks, sometimes. It seriously does.
"Jack is a zombie!" Omi yelped madly, pointing one accusing, tiny finger at the tiny game system in Kimiko's hand. "Do not let him touch your heads!"
"Hardly," I snarked to the monk. "If I was, you'd be safe – zombies only like people with brains, airhead."
Omi's face scrunched up pathetically.
"What's the stupid thing this time?" Annoyed with their aghast expressions at my condition, I forced myself out of my slump, wincing at the crackling of my spine. "Please say it works better than a cold shower."
"It is the Jutsubu Ring," Immediately, the pompous little puffball sprang upward, pleased to be in the spotlight once more. "It allows one to pull oneself incredible distances. A most useful Shen Gong—"
"You reek of booze," Kimiko interrupted flatly, wincing as she stepped back. Omi shot her a deflated look, before frowning and deciding to ignore the female's slip – because surely all who were in his presence only wished to hear his vast wisdom! …yeah, if you can't tell, that was sarcasm.
"That's usually what one smells like after boozing, dorkus." I craned my neck up to where the Wu was…and up, and up some more.
Figures.
The ancient, mystical object was wedged in a tiny crack at the very top of a cliff, glinting merrily from its perch, as if just to spite all who beheld it. The baking sun probably made it unbearably hot to the touch. And it was so high up there.
"Jutsubu Ring, huh?" I stooped down, grabbing hold of a suitable rock. Closing one eye tight, tongue sliding out of one side of my mouth, I held back my arm and launched the tiny projectile upward. It fell pitifully short.
Shrugging, I turned away, heading back toward my transport. "Ah, well, tried my best. You can have it. Later."
"What? That's it?" Bailey asked, incredulous. "No robots? No speeches? Spicer, you're actin' crazier than a jackrabbit in a rattlesnake hole."
Halfway into the cockpit, I looked back at him, considering. Then, laughing hysterically, I slid into my seat. "Didn't bring any. Sorry. You could always blow up the mountain." Flicking on the appropriate switches, I cheerily waved and took off.
Behind me, left in a puff of dust in the desert, the monks stared up, utterly confused. Finally, Raimundo broke the silence, summing up the mixed emotions and vast well of questions in everyone's heart of hearts.
"That was freaky."
---
Petulantly, I fiddled with another set of wires in the back of a new robot – the 'Bad Idea-bot', to tell me when something is too moronic, because I apparently can't tell – wincing as a spark jumped across my fingertips. "Yeech," Sticking my pinky in my mouth, I glared at the fiend, indignant. "I get no respect around here."
I don't know why, but I expected an answer. When none came, I drooped forward, resting my forehead against the uniformly cold metal. It was crushing, really.
"I don't need anybody." Snarling to myself, I forced my body back upright, tearing into my work. "I don't need anybody at all, I just— something." Again growing bored with the task, I gently shoved aside the mess of wires. One hand rubbed at my temples, trying to work out the lingering headache. Oh, it had been days since my last drink (I swore it off for all eternity after that experience), but the feeling seemed to permeate into my very fiber of being.
Groaning, I slid off my stool, planting both booted feet firmly on the ground. "Oh, God, I'm talking to myself…again. The first step toward insanity, check one." Flinging my arms up, I stormed toward the door. "Why can't I just lose it so I don't have to know I'm going crazy? Huh? Huh?!" Up the stairs, I turned back to my expressionless Jack-bots, fixing them an evil eye. "Huh?!"
I slammed shut the door, encasing them all in darkness. Only faintly, I heard one observe, quietly, "He's finally gone off the deep end."
Today was turning out to be a brilliant day.
---
It's hard to breathe when you're face down on your mattress, but I wouldn't move for anyone or anything. Alright, time to fess up. I was so, so, so lonely. Like, stranded on a deserted island lonely. Crazy lonely.
Hell, I would've settled for Megan at this point, and that's saying a lot.
Sighing, I at last turned my head away from the squishy surface, allowing relatively fresh air to flood my lungs. Ah, man, teenage hormones suck.
I could go bother Chase, but I really didn't feel up to being potentially eaten or put down. And, I don't think I would be able to put my usual zest into running away. Too many late nights? Probably. Same with Bean, and Wuya. Maybe I could raid the monks' cache of Shen Gong Wu – that'd force them to at least go after me. Some banter would surely pick up on the mood. Though the butt kicking was not so appealing.
"Well, I did promise Omi ice cream," Immediately, I winced at the thought of sharing anything with them. No, frankly, the monks and me, hanging out in a civil, calm session? It was more likely that Hannibal would turn to exotic dancing as a career. "Right-o, then. There's always endless destruction of vast armies of AI."
Preparing to get up and turn on the game system, I didn't move a muscle toward it.
"Can you believe I was once a very active child?" I asked the wall, conversationally, pulling a blanket up around my waist. "Once upon a time, I was going to rule the world, and rule it alone. But then, oh, then, I hit puberty." Placing one hand flat against the surface, pleasantly cool, I smiled. "And I met a hellion of a witch, who told me all about Shen Gong Wu. Some of the best times of my life followed, along with some of the worst. Then, when something better came along, she abandoned me for a hulking caricature – something that wasn't even really alive – and later, anyone who would take her. She called me a useless, foolish boy. But at least…someone was there to call me that." My grin faltered, so I continued.
"I also met a cranky, ancient warrior with a girl's haircut, who essentially sold his soul for a bowl of soup fifteen hundred years ago. An evil idol, really, and he tossed me to a dinosaur." This wasn't helping.
"I hired a fat ninja, and had to ransom his Chihuahua to get my stuff back.
"And a stupid, stupid Russian man with a bad sense of gloating." By this point I figured I had hit rock bottom. Oh, how very wrong I was.
"…And a girl who's crazy obsessed with cats…a magic mime…a French-speaking plant of concentrated evil…a robot who was an improvement over the real me…
"And there was that talking bean."
The pillow went over my face. "I need to find someone who won't betray me."
Shrieking in sudden inspiration, I flung the blanket and pillows away, springing to my feet in renewed zeal. "I have the perfect idea! Why didn't I think of this before?"
Springing in a decidedly feminine way (what? I took dance lessons, and a little grace once in a while is classy), I snagged my coat and heli-pack, donning both items quickly. Rakishly snapping my goggles back into place, I grinned at my reflection. "You are a genius."
Then I flung myself out the window, and headed toward the moon-shrouded temple.