Author's note: This is the result of a sudden need to write, as well as several days of re-watching Xiaolin Showdown. Enjoy.
The dark is old and patient.
It remembers its own peaceful non-existence, 'before' (if such concept would have been applicable) the universe sprouted like the quantic equivalent of a furuncle on the Nothingness's metaphoric ass, and it became the latest trend to say that things happen before and after, here or there. A basic energy-rich blob tight-laced in ten dimensions – three for space, one for time, and the rest belonging exclusively to brilliant nerds like Jack Spicer, because nobody else wanted them – definitely not a singular event, but a relatively stable one still.
The dark is free. Anything and nothing can exist in it, from the monster under the bed to the "Harry Potter" book you want to smack it with. That's why light, or knowledge for that matter, means restricting possibilities – deducting order from chaos. That's why universes amuse the surrounding darkness so much. Compared with it, they're ridiculously poor event-wise, because by being they killed a lot of possibilities of what they might have been. Accepting their constraints is like subjecting oneself to the rules of a game.
The 'universes' are little more than viruses, pieces of self-propagating information. But in this game, the dark is a hell of a hacker. And like a proper hacker, it is everywhere. Barely a few nanoseconds passed before the hot particle soup in our universe had cooled enough to allow it to seep through. And since then it never left. It is in the shadow sewn to your soles and under the tissues of your skin. It is in the empty space between your atoms, and it makes most of the volume of the atoms themselves.
The matter cooled. Particles moved slower and slower, from plasma eventually forming gases, liquids and solids. They formed increasingly complex configurations, including ones that could run around with swords and believe that the world is only made of earth, water, air and fire. The dark did not contradict them. It only figuratively sighed, and executed the mystical equivalent of rising an eyebrow.
"I want a lawyer"
"Yeah, well, not bad for a start" declared Jack Spicer, in a tone that not very subtly suggested, for anyone but his innocent listener, that he, evil boy genius, could have done much better than that. "I'm rather fond of the mention of my name in the first paragraph, although – how should I say it? – the words 'brilliant nerd' just don't sound evil enough. What would you say about writing, oh, I know, 'Brilliant Evil Boy Genius' instead? With capital letters, of course?"
He was anxious like a child on Christmas morning, fidgeting with his trademark spiral goggles, shifting in his chair, gesturing. For the teenager girl sitting opposite to him, the exuberance of the red-haired boy was simply overwhelming. She nervously fidgeted and pushed back her glasses. In the thinking pause that followed, both of them simultaneously extended a hand towards the cookie plate on the table, their right hand to be precise. As satisfied, chocolaty crunches could be heard from one side of the room, the girl's slender fingers clenched on her little sweet. Her eyes, superficially fixed on the polished mahogany table, seemed in the same time deeper and blanker that one would have thought possible. The eyes of an idiot, some said – not that Jack Spicer would ever utter that, not even in the darkest core of his rotten evil mind. He carefully observed her angular, although not unpleasant face, knowing for a fact that she will never dare to look back. He stared in her eyes, so disturbingly alike his own, imagining that he could watch the gears spinning.
"No" the girl uttered, so suddenly and certain, that its effect on Jack could only be compared with a 10 000 W laser beam hitting a helium balloon. With his body limp and head fallen on the table, the antagonist of the Xiaolin monks theatrically murmured "Backstab", as his interlocutor continued: "I mean, it does seem a bit...odd. Now that you mentioned it, I find 'Jack Spicer, Evil Emperor of Darkness' to be a more fitting replace- oh, I apologize, that is most certainly wrong."
Jack's eyes lit up, as he very quickly replied: "I love that". Straightening his back, he decided to go for a humorous scolding pose: "But you're doing it wrong! You have to say it like this – JACK SPICER, EVIL EMPEROR OF DARKNESS!"
Well, he could at least have a career in theatre if evil world conquest lost its shine one day.
She smiled awkwardly and covered her mouth. "Quite adequate. I'll underline the accentuated syllables to specify the pronunciation. Let me edit...like this, is it all right?" After scribbling something on her notebook, she turned it towards Jack. "It's all right now?"
Symbols. Of 'outside', 'window', 'round', 'yellow', 'kid', 'question mark', 'friend'. With the proper grammar, of course.
Jack Spicer's sight was so heavy it probably sunk through the crust of Earth, all the way to China to the temple of those Xiaolin losers. One of his eyebrows twitched. In normal circumstances he would have called for his Jackbots. And/or let out a girly scream and/or an evil laugh. It's not that his companion would have been bothered by it, hey, she didn't mind his Jackbots, evil laughs and girly screams. But sometimes even an evil mastermind has to work undercover, even if it makes the artistic core in his brain swell painfully with all ideas left unexpressed.
As he headed towards the window, the girl watched him from above a cup of tea. Studying him like a puzzle. He opened the windows widely, with mechanical movements. The bruises from his last encounter with the Xiaolin monks hadn't yet healed – man, could those guys never take it easy on him? He was Jack Evil Spicer, not some kind of brainless brawler.
"Okay, Omi, I know you're here"
There was no one there. Just a tree, stars, and two Jackbots patrolling in the distance. He'd have to update their sensors – quite the unusual task, considering that normally his bots were destroyed almost as fast as he built them. Now where were those guys?
"Is everything all right, Jack?" repeated the girl with no inflexion in her voice. He breathed in, this wasn't their style. No, the goodie-two-shoes wouldn't have just busted into his lair at bloody 1 in the morning to steal Shen-Gong-Wu, unless he had stolen them first. He scratched his head. Wait, which Shen-Gong-Wu did he still have? Where did he put that list? Oh – why should he bother – there was only the Monkey Staff left.
A burning pain surged through his back, coiled around his spine and imploded inside his 170-IQ cranium. It felt as intense and swift as a bullet to the brain, not that he knew from experience - despite all those nights spent trembling under a blanket imagining worst-case scenarios after his deals with Pandabubba. Hanging around with a mob boss - that was certainly something didn't want to repeat in the future. Not good for his ego to stay around someone with so puny ambitions.
Surprised, he realized that this one of the very few moments in his life when he was too terrified to actually say anything. Then the logical part of his mind disconnected for a moment from the ruckus and reasoned that if he had the neural space to think that, then perhaps he should already go back to being himself. A high-pitched scream was about to leave his mouth, when he realized that he had leaned out of the window, and that the ground was no longer where it's supposed to be. It was above his head, which seemed to multiply his fear. Jack finally let out a scream and tried to grab the edge of a window. Unfortunately, he didn't succeed. Instead, his hand grasped a thin, invisible fabric, which stretched only to reveal the well known red and black of a Xiaolin's clothing.
Preceded by some ambiguous sounds signifying lack of equilibrium, both Jack and the intruder, as well as the invisibility-granting Shroud of Shadows Shen-Gong-Wu, fell to the ground. Back in the living room, the mysterious girl was calmly sipping her tea, observing the moving circles at the surface of the liquid. She tried to correlate their fascinating wavelike movement with elements like the aromatic, almost spicy steam tickling her nostrils, and with the warmth of the cup. The china was too hot, to the point where most other people would have expressed this in a very loud manner and allow it to fall. But it didn't seem to disturb the girl. She wondered what Jack would think of her calculations, question which eventually brought to her attention the fact that he was no longer present. As she looked at the conclusion in her mind, as cautious as a cannibal studying a stalk of celery, a familiar voice shouted:
"Don't worry! I think this rose bush stopped my fall...Dude, GET OFF ME! JACKBOTS, ATTACK!"
The erratic noise of broken machinery which followed bothered the girl. It was irregular, lacked a proper logic which could be transposed into a formula and repeated. She sighed, in the same time in which Jack audibly whispered "Mommy!". Her cup of tea would surely prove more interesting – the heat transfer had already altered her equations, and she was looking for a way to deal with it. Meanwhile, in the semi-obscurity under the window:
"Jack Spicer! Prepare for a humiliating defeat!" a voice shouted, then continued thoughtfully: "Although I believe that it would be most difficult for us to humiliate you further, given your current attire"
"What-? Hey, don't mess with my PJs. They have skulls on them! I mean...Ha! Fell right into my trap! I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown!"
"Have you hit your head or somethin', Spicer? Earlier you stared outside like a calf at a new gate"
'Oh, thanks for noticing, hat-brain' replied Jack's disdainful thought. 'And I assume you four beating me down just for fun after already winning the Mikado Arm had nothing to do with it.' The pain was gone, only a strange burning sensation left, like a radioactive wave. 'Perhaps I should get an X-ray... It's not good for Evil if my vertebrae get out of place. I guess that's what it was' However, out loud he said only:
"Shut up. Both me and chrome-dome are touching the Shen-Gong-Wu, right? That's a Xiaolin Showdown for you."
"Fine! The game will be Truth or Lies! My Mantis Flip Coin against your... wait, which Wu do you have left?"
After an embarrassing silence which stretched like a gum on the sole of an expensive shoe, Jack admitted:
"At this very moment in time, none" It's not like he had time to go get the Monkey Staff from the vault.
"Then you can't challenge Omi to a Showdown" pointed out Kimiko, the Japanese fashionista. "So I guess we win by default"
"Why don't we ask the reptile about that?" quickly said the evil-doer, throwing a glance in Dojo's direction.
"Reptile?!" replied the pocket-sized dragon, infuriated. He was prepared to let out more harsh words, but unexpectedly, something from Spicer's gaze stopped him. It looked...imploring? Imperceptibly shaking his head, thinking that he was going crazy due to lack of sleep, the dragon of the Xiaolin Temple took out from thin air the larger-than-life tome of rules and regulations for Xiaolin Showdowns, put on a pair of round glasses, and started to leaf through the it.
"Ahem...According to the original Rules written by Grandmaster Dashi himself, there cannot be a Xiaolin Showdown without a wager."
As the monks rejoiced, Jack blinked very quickly. His red eyes had become watery – allergies, you know. He was allergic to losing. Dojo Kanojo Cho coughed, and continued:
"...however, there can be what's called a basic Showdown, in which the two combatant parts wager non-material entities."
"Erm...translate from officialese, please?" commented the Fire Dragon, Kimiko.
"Like a challenge, a bet, a dare. I remember when Dashi lost one of these" Dojo explained thoughtfully, then started to shake uncontrollably. "They're pretty dangerous things...He had to...no, I can't say it, too horrible!"
"What is it, Dojo? Say it! How bad can it be?" Kimiko looked at the dragon with a strange fascination. "Did he have to eat a bug?"
"Did he have to let himself eaten by a giant bug?" imaginatively suggested Jack.
"Perhaps he had to clean the pig-shed for a whole year?" added Clay.
"How foolish you are! We are talking about Grandmaster Dashi here!" interrupted Omi, irritated. "He wouldn't bet on such small things! I imagine that his enemies tortured him in painful and unimaginable ways!"
"No, no, no and NO!" shouted Dojo. "If it were just that..." He was still shivering, but managed to utter the following words. "He had to take out Wuya to dinner, and give her a good-night kiss"
Kimiko chuckled. Jack laughed loudly and fell back in the rose bush. Omi and Clay just looked disturbed. Raimundo, as Jack couldn't stop but notice, was not there, which was clearly an improvement to his usual self.
"I assume she must've been a fine young lady 1500 years ago, but I still don't like the idea of arranged dates" the cowboy reasoned.
"Truly a most terrifying ordeal" agreed Omi.
"Yeah, not fair, I could never convince Wuya to give ME a good-night kiss" spoke the red-haired. "...WHAT?"
"Point is, watch out what you wager, kids" said Dojo.
"Blah, blah blah." Jack Spicer's eyes narrowed. "If I win, I get the Shroud of Shadows and you leave me in peace at least for several weeks"
"But if we win, we take the Shroud AND free the Dragon of Darkness" counterattacked Omi.
"Yeah, whatever!" absently replied the evil boy genius, while inwardly putting on a party hat and starting an early celebration. Those fools! They couldn't get a Shen-Gong-Wu which he didn't have, could they? He almost wanted to lose on purpose, just for the chance to see their faces.
Almost. Besides, he should try to finish this as soon as possible. It was rude of an evil genius to leave his favorite evil scientist waiting, wasn't it? As those thoughts passed through the redhead's mind, the glowing Wu escaped their grasp, and the scenery began to change...
"Gong Yi Tanpai!"
A/N: I hope there's just enough confusion, but not TOO much. To quote somebody famous - I trust I make myself obscure.