It was a first class plane, which meant the seats were large and comfortable, and the few passengers were calm, quiet, and dignified. A younger Jack Spicer looked around, bored out of his mind.
His family was going on a was the first of his father's excavations he had ever been allowed to accompany his parents on. Only a month ago he would have been exited, but this whole retreat thing was really just to wait for the media to cool down after a recent... incident involving several million dollars in antiques.
He'd really only done it for attention. His father had always regarded Jack as being useless, having no interest in the impossible machines the boy was able to create, viewing him as a failure due to his lack of interest in business.
Speaking of machines, though, this plane was fascinating. It weighed thousands of pounds, yet it was kept in the air by only two metal wings! "Of course it has to achieve monumental speeds in order to maintain it's altitu-"
"Jack, honey," his mother interrupted, not bothering to look up from the glossy magazine she held with well-manicured nails, "you're boring me."
He blushed furiously. "Sorry, mom." He hadn't realized he'd been speaking out loud.
She made a noncommital noise and flipped to the next page, while her son's mind turned back to technology. He wondered how the engine worked. He'd never seen a plane engine before. One look couldn't hurt, right?
"Mom?" He again turned to her, "Can I get around you?"
She dropped the article, finally revealing her face.
Jack yelled and scrambled away from her as clawed hands reached towards him, twin black holes where her eyes had been.
Then the scene changed.
Jack struggled towards the surface of the water, trying frantically to escape the pale hands dragging him into the bodies clung to his arms and legs, tearing at his clothing. Decaying human faces stared blankly, their eyes had long ago been eaten away and leaving empty sockets to stare at the albino with palpable hatred.
"JACK..." the voices whispered, "WHY DID YOU KILL US?" More and more of the horrible apparitions appeared out of seemingly nowhere, joining the voices clamoring for attention, weighing him down even more. "YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST DIED..."
A person he knew all too well stood directly in front of him, constantly disapproving features slowly melting away like all the others. "You useless, ungrateful brat! Why didn't you just die the first time?" the thing's voice was garbled, like the rest, but still recognizable.
"No," he sobbed."It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean to!"
Still they pulled him down, deeper and deeper, away from the light he desperately hoped would save him."WHY DID YOU KILL US?" They repeated over and over, cacophony of voices rising into a shriek.
"Please! It wasn't my fault!" He shouted, barely able to hear himself. The light was fading around him, but he could still see himself and all the others clearly as his own skin was stripped away, until he too became one of the waterlogged zombies.
He screamed in terror as the darkness consumed him.
Jack tumbled to the floor, struggling to free himself from the blanket that had tangled around him in his sleep. His heart was still racing from the nightmare.
Bright red eyes took in the familiar scene around him, faded brown curtains only half blocking out the light from the street lamp, a moth-eaten sheet pulled over the mattress thrown haphazardly to one side of the room, and a beaten wood dresser he'd managed to snag at a garage sale. The walls had probably been white at some point during the fifties, but had since faded to a sickly yellow color. On the plus side, everything worked (of course it did; what kind of mechanical genius would he be if he couldn't fix a leaky sink?), and the two story house was deep enough into the red light district that /nobody would bother him.
He freed himself from his temporary fabric prison and stretched out his back, catching sight of the alarm clock off to one side. 5:35 AM. Well, that was an almost acceptable time to wake up, he supposed. After having that nightmare again, he wasn't especially eager to fall sleep. Besides, he had a project to finish.
He made his way past the kitchen and down the cracked cement stairs to his basement and temporary lab, flicking on the lights as he did so. Various metal parts of a half completed robot littered whatever space was available, including the floor.
Picking up a black remote, he turned on the ancient TV that hung on an adjacent wall and began assembling the rest of the bot, a newscaster's voice cutting through the early-morning silence.
"-nounced today that he would be hosting another charity event, which will be held on Saturday at the Red Lion. His newest partner, Chase Young, had this to say."
The report cut over to a video of the man at a press conference. Jack snorted and drowned out the noise. Some rich asshole again. If his parents had left him anything, he could have gotten a legitimate job instead of selling a few weapons to gangs and working out of this shithole.
If he had money like that-
A grin spread over his face. He didn't have any cash, but who said he couldn't get it?
...
The party was a huge success, of course. People were dancing, chatting aimlessly on the sidelines, or enjoying the refreshments set out near the door.
Chase couldn't have been more bored.
His startling yellow eyes turned lazily to his 'wife', who was flirting easily with a man he didn't recognize. He didn't mind, their marriage had always been one of convenience. She had wanted an elevation in social status, and he had wanted a way to get on Bean's good side. What better way than to marry his daughter? Wuya was irritatingly cunning and manipulative, but it was nothing he couldn't put up with for several hundred thousand extra dollars in his bank account at the end of the month.
Chase turned his attention elsewhere, his lips quirking in an amused smirk as he saw a familiar figure standing in the corner.
Dodging around the wealthy party goers, the promising entrepreneur made his way over to the man who was currently glaring at him.
"Officer Omi," he greeted, "Imagine meeting you here. I suppose your companions are lurking about as well?"
"Do not attempt to game with me, Mr. Young," the policeman warned. "I am onto your little tricks." He and his three coworkers, Tohomiko, Pedrosa, and Bailey had been trying to bust Young's underground operation for months, with little success. The man hid his tracks well.
He grinned, showing of white teeth in a dazzling smile. "And just what are you implying, sir? I assure you, everything I do is completely within the realms of the law."
At the current age of twenty one, Chase Young was a brilliant man, having gone to Harvard just out of high school. After graduating the college, he quickly rose to the top of his industry, or at least very near it. Now the man was incredibly wealthy, and with the vast amount of resources he had at his disposal, the police force of Xiaolin City was having ahard time catching up with him.
What he had said was a blatant lie. It was well known that the man frequently made deals with several very shady characters, and although this had never been proven, the local law, especially Chief Fung's division, was watching him very carefully.
He didn't mind much, though. He liked a challenge.
The officer muttered something under his breath, and ducked back into the throng of people.
That had certainly relieved his boredom momentarily, but the crowd was beginning to get on his nerves. He doubted anyone would notice if he left for a few minutes.
...
It was much quieter outside. The September air was slightly chilly, but overall nice. Thankfully, the outdoor pool was closed at this time of night, so for now, Chase was alone.
He allowed himself to relax finally. Back inside, he could feel the weight of Bean's gaze almost constantly. Just being in the same room with the man began to take its toll after the first few minutes. And as for his daughter... his lip curled in distaste at the mere thought of her. Wuya was... difficult... to get along with. Again, the money was well worth the effort to appease the witch.
"So, what's got you down?"
Chase whirled to face the source of the voice. The newcomer wore a black suit and tie, though it looked strange on him; like he was wearing a costume. Bright red hair, likely dyed, was spiked backwards, and he had a piercing near the top of hit right ear. He noted the unusual pallor of the boy's skin, and found with no small amount of surprise that he was around Chase's age, unlike so many of the elderly men and woman who normally attended such events. The boy was exotic and attractive, and if all went well tonight, he would be seeing a lot more of him in the near future.
"Nothing important." He replied smoothly. "Why don't you join me for a moment?"
Offering his own sly grin, the male barely hesitated before complying, seemingly relaxed even in the presence of such an imposing figure. He stood barely an inch away, close enough Chase could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric.
"So you're the bigshot everyone's been talking about," he leaned slightly closer. "You don't look so special."
"Really?" The man hummed under his breath. "You seem to be the only one who thinks so." He caught a whiff of something, like soap and motor oil, a strange combination, but not an altogether unpleasant one.
The stranger laughed. "Name's Jack. Jack Spicer."
"I suppose you already know who I am," Chase took the hand that was offered, but didn't shake it and didn't let go. Instead, grinning in a way reminiscent of a shark, he pulled the boy closer to him, leaning down until the only thing separating their faces was a few inches of open air. "And I must say it is lovely to meet you, Jack."
There was a sudden sharp pain in the side of his neck. Tentatively, the executive reached up to feel the tiny dart that had appeared there.
Jack was smiling
Why was he smiling?
He didn't have time to think about it. Finding his legs suddenly unable to support his weight, he fell to his knees. The ground was suddenly very close to his face, the cement cold and hard beneath his cheek. Everything went dark.