The ruse went perfect. Better than expected, actually, considering those Xiaolin Losers hadn't the slightest clue of his Ninja-Bot's presence. How they managed to miss its crashing retreat through numerous shops in that coastal open market, he'll never know, but neither is he asking, as their hard of hearing was more humorous than problematic. Unlike the Wu he collected from his earlier encounter with those losers in bath robes.
Jack has little use for the Zing Zom-Bone. He's an evil genius with robotic minions that are vastly superior to zombies.
'They definitely win in the intelligence department,' grouses the pale teenager whilst walking down yet another teal-colored hallway, the sharp ends of his black trench coat swaying with each step. 'And I've got enough mindless people and… entities in my life already.'
Fortunately, PandaBubba gave him a call not long after the useless Wu's retrieval, wishing to make trade. At the time, Jack was mostly just happy for the distraction from his company. Joy from lying to Wuya was all but annihilated by then, his buzzing phone a saving grace.
Not that Jack hadn't his doubts of the offer's evil seal of integrity. New bots are always exciting – particularly when he isn't short on funds for the materials; however, PB doesn't know a thing about robotics. Such a shortsighted moron can't hope to understand the complex intricacies of designed and manufactured artificial intelligence. Though after a long-winded explanation from some stuttering (likely coerced) intelligence on what upgrades have been made to his Koi-Bot design, Jack was more than pleased. Armor plates of a strong titanium alloy, weapon and systems enhancements, and a new menacing design was too good to pass up, though he never let his excitement show in his voice.
Too bad the meeting point reeks. The Assembly Room #4 Lookout within the Tohomiko Electronic's Skyscraper is where PandaBubba told Jack to meet him with the Wu, and this has been a problem for two big reasons: It's a skyscraper, and he hasn't the slightest clue where anything in said building is, let alone the Assembly Room Number Four Lookout.
He was going to ask the mob boss what floor the damn place is on right after it was named as the meet, but Pandabubba, the short-sighted freak, chose to hang up before Jack's mouth could even open.
The lack of respect for an evil genius such as himself was incredible to say the least. Not even an evil chuckle in parting? A "goodbye" or "farewell"? Jack understands that they're both evil and all – himself to a much higher extent – but that doesn't mean common evil courtesy has to go out the window.
'That kind of thing should be reserved for the good guys!'
Now he's wandering around within the gigantic building without a clue where he's going, searching in desperate secrecy for some kind of map to help out. This has been the case for around twenty minutes or so, and, oh, what an enjoyable twenty they've been. The insurmountable pleasure of Wuya's incessant complaining throughout that duration was entirely its own – nevermind the verbal bombardment he endured during his walk to the skyscraper.
Jack's eyes warily roll to one side, peering back at the witch hag. His orbs narrow. She's quiet, for once, but clearly irritated. Tendrils crossed, her hateful red swirls glare off to the side as her head-based appendages twitch erratically. Jack's nose turns up in mutual disdain. Recalling her non-stop questioning further wrinkles his nose.
His gaze goes back ahead, but the damage is done. His retinas need a break. However, a man some ways up ahead is looking to become another archaic nuisance. Mop in hand, the short, old, blue jumpsuit-wearing fellow is immediately dubbed, 'Janitor Duty.' Though it's his persistent frown of disapproval that grates on Jack's already Wuya-irritated nerves.
Nearing, Jack begins to smell a familiar decay emanating from Janitor Duty. Though it can never hope to rival the ever-undisputed beholder of offensive odors wafting and floating behind him, the Stench of the Old is still recognizable in the air.
His air.
Janitor Duty's frown deepens just a tad. He seems ready to speak, but Jack steps right up to him with an angry sneer as pale fingers curl into fists at his sides, the evil genius looming over his newest aged annoyance.
The man's expression can't crumble fast enough.
"You want something, Mop-Man?!" hollers the evil genius. He doesn't want to see or smell Wuya's youth, never-mind be lost in it!
It's as if the man's previous expression hadn't been there: curious disapproval in one second and wide-eyed fright in the next. Shocked as he is, though, Janitor Duty seems to feel his calling in the next instance.
Gaze plummeting, the old geezer hurries to repeatedly dunk his mop into a bucket of cleaning solution, nearly dropping it as liquid sloshes over the rim. Then he jerks the cleaning utensil out, plops it on the floor, and hastily mops back and forth.
The man's focus on his life's work gets an amused half-smirk from Jack before he turns on his heel and strides onward, once again surveying his surroundings; and though there's a snort from behind him, he readily ignores the ugly sound.
Pretty soon he's approaching a T-junction. The left turn earns Jack's spontaneous decision.
No need to give the witch hag any clue on how lost he is. How she hasn't made the connection yet, what with how long he's been walking around bickering with her about the "lost" Wu, is unknown, but he's thankful for it nonetheless.
Somewhat. Kinda. Maybe a smidgen.
Not really...
Yet his teeth grind for completely different reasons.
A map. There are none. Have been none. Two floors thus far and not once has any sort of visual aid been given on where anything is within the building.
How is it possible...? The place is huge! Who's the com-plete–-
"You're lost, aren't you," speaks one particularly unmissed voice from behind. He can easily picture the irritated, withering expression on her "face".
"What?" Feigning surprise, Jack doesn't turn. "I'm not lost." He gives a dismissive wave at her. "I'm just… taking the scenic route."
Scenic route indeed. The secretly aimless walk has shown many a robotic invention thus far. Rather impressive ones at that. There was even one holding familiarity to a creation of his own. A robot named "U–Bot".
Able to mimic its owner's appearance and personality, memories of Chameleon-Bot's infiltration had flooded Jack's mind whilst he took in the smaller robot's silver design. For a good moment, an amused grin accompanied his lengthy, curious glance. Until...
Wrinkling her nose, the Japanese girl shut her eyes and shook her head. "Evil and creepy. Huh," she scoffed, "what a combination."
That soured his mood, and he tore his glare to the next item of not-as-great interest.
The thing is small. Miniature. Nice materials and internals, and the perfect mimicry of another's personality is nice, but Chameleon-Bot did the job fine enough while morphing instead into a perfect, life-size replica. It also fought, had a two-way video feed, and once-upon-a-time was a loyal automaton.
Designed and built by himself, it's only natural for CB to be the better bot.
Wuya flies over to the side of Jack's head, earning a frowning glance. "You're a terrible liar," she states. Her ghostly arms cross. The look on her mask-like face is sharpened with annoyance.
"And you're a terrible side-kick," Jack shoots back.
Upon seeing Wuya's expression scrunch in anger, his black brows drop inward as she nears his face, her ghostly form all but boiling with a meaningless rage that courses through her trembling tendrils and contracts her red swirls into an almost-proper set of irides.
The screeching rebuttal is impending.
Jack exhales hard through the corner of his mouth, sending Wuya away; her purple appendages follow her as an undulating mess.
Snickering, the goth smiles as relief sags his shoulders. His next breath is quick, yet fulfilling; but most importantly, devoid of the stench Wuya manages to give off from that mouth of hers – even as a freaking ghost. It's an evil not even Hannibal Roy Bean would dare dabble with, and this evil genius plans on keeping all his senses in working condition, thank you very much.
Hope for the conversation's end proves to be nothing more: Wuya growls low, frustration adding a grating reverberation to the noise, and then speaks. Interrupting his search. Again.
"Are you ever going to at least tell me why we are here?"
Jack groans, the past twenty minutes flashing before his mind. Somehow, Wuya's actually managed to get naggier since his accepting her back. Half the time it's both the beginning and end of his day.
Not that he doesn't spite her in return.
Shrugging lazily, he mumbles what can vaguely be described as him not knowing. Taking longer steps gets Jack away from Wuya, her ensuing growl of fury grinding his nerves just as much as it utterly satisfies his black heart.
Maybe she'll explode from anger eventually. What a great turn of evil events that would be.
'Then again,' Jack muses, quietly snickering to himself, 'she just might when she finds out what I'm here for. She's always so gung-ho about getting all the Wu.'
His humorous thoughts are brought to a stop as he enters what appears to be an elevator lobby. A few pieces of furniture line the small space. However, his focus is on what lies between the rather sizable gap of two elevators: A large stone slab embedded into the wall. On it lies a large mapping of the building.
"Finally!" Running up to it, he jabs a finger over one of the lists of locations and immediately works his way down.
"No, no, no, nope, nah, nada, nein, negative, não, ne, ugh–"
The next growl from behind is an angry, harsh noise that halts Jack's search.
Blinking, he takes a side-glance at Wuya. Narrow eyes, sharp teeth, and frenzied tentacles meet his sight. There are even a few electrical currents slowly coursing around her.
'Huh. Haven't seen that in a while,' Jack vaguely realizes, refocusing on the matter at hand. This time he knocks off each location mentally.
'There we go!' he soon celebrates, having right above his finger nail the words of his destination. Getting the reference number, he then looks to the map's model of the building. Sections go by, then levels, followed by floors, and his location is soon known.
'Floor twenty… go right after taking one of these elevators down… and the fourth left turn. Sweet.'
With a content smile, Jack walks to the closest elevator. After pressing the call-button, he grips a wrist behind himself, whistling a tune as he waits before the solid metal doors.
Momentarily, they slide open.
Tune still going, Jack closes his eyes and approaches. He's stepping over the threshold when suddenly a profound feeling of nausea slams through his chest and blasts his eyes open, the yelping boy's feet barely leaving the ground as a sick wave of goosebumps flash down his body. His frantic red eyes dart down to see Wuya passing through him, her low, dark chuckle echoing within the elevator.
All of him is shocked stiff in the wake of her sudden blow, yet his tall-standing form also trembles with a barely restrained need to shake; so Jack slowly lowers his arms, takes a shallow breath, and then allows his entirety to convulse in utter disgust, head twisting side to side.
Then Jack's still again. Much of the horrid sensation is gone, but there's still a lingering twitchiness that has him flexing his fingers before lifting a hand to his chest and loosing a relieved sigh.
The hand fists. He swipes it down to match his other, scowling at the smirking witch-hag in the elevator.
"Dammit, Wuya, you know I hate it when you do that!" Jack bellows.
She suddenly growls, rushing up to his face. He pulls back at her forwardness, but still meets and returns her scornful sneer in full. "And you know that I hate wasting time! You should be searching for the Shen Gong Wu you so stupidly let get away in your usual incompetence, NOT lollygagging in this tower!" she roars in reply.
"Boundaries," mutters Jack through clenched teeth, a hand covering his nose and mouth. When she backs off to a more tolerable distance, he lowers the hand and rolls his eyes. "Well," Jack flippantly starts, entering the elevator, "it's not like you had to tag along."
Eying the control panel, he presses the appropriate button.
"Seriously," grouses Jack, squinting at the floor counter, "you're even lamer than me with how you follow like a lost puppy." The evil boy genius crosses his arms, ready to repress the revolting experience she just put him through; but not without first indirectly squinting at her, which reveals a still-smirking hag, though there's more amusement lacing the mask-lines of Her Horrendousness. The ugliness gives way to realization of his blunder, and Jack swiftly thrusts a finger at her. "That didn't come out right!"
Wuya merely closes her eyes and shakes her head, chuckling at him. She crosses her tendrils thereafter, the amused glint in her swirly eyes remaining on the elevator doors.
Jack's tongue shoots all the way out at her, him planting a thumb on his nose and wagging the other four fingers to and fro. He's HAPPY! he doesn't have to wish she were dead.
Thankfully, that's the end of things, leaving a much-appreciated silence. Steadfast in taking advantage, Jack moves backward, eventually hitting the rear wall of the elevator. Leaning on it, he pockets his hands.
His dull stare lingers on the doors while seconds tick by. By the fourtieth, he's frowning, and his gaze wanders to the control panel, the wall not in Wuya's direction, the ceiling, and then lands on the floor, where there's an engraving. "Tohomiko Electronics Skyscraper," it reads.
Jack's eyebrows scrunch inward at the words. Somehow, that name - Tohomiko - is familiar. He just can't place his evil finger on why, though...
A pleasant, low beep sounds, earning Jack's attention to the opening elevator doors. Making a face, he shrugs a shoulder, steps out, and makes his way down the right hall.
There will be time to figure out later.
He's eventually entering a larger stretch of hallway. Tech once more lines the walls. His red eyes shift back and forth, taking in each technology with quickly passing interest. Usually in that the showcased item is a form of video game or toy, all of which lack any form of firepower. Though from what he can tell, the toys are often-times over-engineered for their purpose.
They've no offensive capabilities, yet possess rather remarkable durability: An incredibly asinine concept.
Take the U-bot for example: It's made of strong, light-weight alloys; running on a fourteen nano-meter, four-point-five gigahertz octa-core processor possessing thirty-eight megabytes of three-leveled cache, got enough low-latency RAM to run an otherwise storage-less computer on, capable of precise personality mimicry, water-proof, yet received an absurd chassis design, at which point every previous feature comes into serious question; as the only thing U-Bot could possibly infiltrate is a society of color-blind primordial dwarves, and even then, there's no way to keep track of the damn thing.
Marginally, it's notable.
But entirely pointless.
The only big aspect to it is the waste of materials and time.
The virtual reality systems, though, are pretty awesome. At least those are pushing some form of boundaries.
Jack's pace slows whilst taking in the technology on display. Knowing where he is and being distracted from a will-not-be-named atrocity, there's proper time for a proper walk. He begins to hum during the new leisurely pace. Can hear his mental readings without ear-splitting interference.
It's a moment of evil serenity.
That is, until Wuya, unfortunately, speaks: "Look at all this useless junk," hisses the witch hag from behind Jack, him giving her a nasty side-glance. "Don't tell me we're here so you can go shopping?"
Jack looks away with a blooming wry smirk, eyes returning to their previous item of interest; she's somewhat close to the truth, he supposes. However, when the next item meets his sight, Jack's eyes widen considerably.
Ahead, near the wall to his left, are four display cases spread evenly from one another by a few feet. Each one holds its own respective poster upon the wall.
The Goo Zombies series. One through four.
The goth teen runs straight up to the fourth one, plastering his face and hands to the display case in awe at the addition.
"When did this happen!?" he yells against the glass. He must have been really preoccupied by his bots and the hunt for Wu to have missed such a major occurrence in the world of gaming.
"Now what are you yelling about?" grouses Wuya. She floats over his left shoulder to peer at what's garnering the evil boy genius' attention. Blinking, she looks at it dully. She quirks an unimpressed brow.
"What it is it?" she asks, somewhat grumpily.
"Only the newest addition to the greatest gaming franchise ever – as far as anything involving zombies goes." His reply is largely muffled by the glass, voice starting excited and ending in passing casualness.
"A game?" Wuya deadpans. Angrily. "This is why you've been here for the last twenty minutes wandering around like a lost child? To steal a game?"
The words take Jack a moment to receive, register – while ignoring a fed up growl – and then comprehend.
"Wait, what?" the redhead mutters in starting incredulity, pulling away from the display case. "No!" Jack stresses. "Geez, Wuya, I know I've done a few questionable things in the past, but that's just senseless."
'Albeit tempting,' he adds. Maybe after the trade…
Wuya's brow raises at his words. Her head tilts downward, red swirls looking dully over at him from the top of her yellow sockets. The unimpressed stare leads to a disbelieving scoff, telling clearly that she thinks he's done way more than just a few questionable things and that they are well beyond questionable.
Disapproval lines the crease forming on his brow as he frowns at her. "Oi, don't give me that look," starts Jack, scolding her with a brief, yet quickly wagging index finger. "As if you've never made a single bad choice in your..."
He trails off, thinking for a moment with a blank stare. The effort is steadfastly tiring, and he settles for, "whatever you call your existence these days." He walks past her as the words are spat out, waving a rotating hand at her.
"Yes, I'm looking at one of them right now," Wuya snidely replies from behind him, following.
"And yet you're still here," Jack grumbles under his breath.
"What?" barks Wuya.
"Nothing," he replies, turning to give her a pristine, wide smile.
Her expression turns quizzical. She simply grumbles something to herself, though, thus ending yet another of their absolutely decorous squabbles that he gets to take part in.
Jack proclaims himself the victor of this session.
As Jack begins to near the left turn at the fourth junction in the hallway, he's unable to help pondering why he ever took her back. She's ob-so-lete. General location? Pfft! What does he need that garbage for when his Detecto-bot leads him straight to the artifacts?
'Just look at her now,' sneers Jack pointedly, 'She's worse than dial-up!'
Sure, she's knowledgeable on all things magical, but outside of Mala Mala Jong and the Fearsome Four, that admittedly extensive understanding never once turned out helpful. Furthermore, he can read, too. All you have to know is where to look for the information.
Only that doesn't always work with regards to the Wu. Those details are hit or miss. Which, from his brief personal experience, is more inclined to miss than hit.
So the question is, how much is Wuya's shred of purpose worth to him?
Making the turn, Jack takes a side-glance at her over his shoulder. Anger and disgust build fast.
His eyes dart forward.
He'll think about it later: Ahead is a teal double door with a white sign above it that reads "Assembly Room #4 Outlook" in red illuminated letters. On both doors is another sign that says "Staff Only", yet in no time, he's shoving one's push pad; and the door swings open to reveal PandaBubba's suited form standing on a suspended metal catwalk, his hands resting on the side rail. He spares Jack a momentary glance before his gaze returns down below.
Walking onto the metal walk-way, the lower level comes into Jack's view. He takes a glance at it and frowns in disinterest at the rows upon rows of workers standing at conveyor belts, working diligently to assemble toys from pieces as they arrive. Jack looks back to PB with the same dull expression whilst he continues on.
"Alright, PandaBubba," Jack calls out, "I've brought the Zing Zom-Bone just like you–-"
"You've had it this entire time?!"
The sound of Wuya's confused, irate question smacks into the side of Jack's head, forcing him to grimace and jerk away. It may rattle by as quick as it came, but her signature diatribe leaves him with a persistent ring going loud and strong in both ears. The tinnitus lessens with each passing second, but he knows (from experience) that the condition will only cease so much before staying with him for hours longer.
Why she insists on yelling in his ear as if he were on the moon, he will never know. It's a real wonder how he doesn't need a hearing aid by now.
Uncurling tight fists, Jack also loosens the clench of his jaw, eyes opening into a pointed glare at the witch hag.
"Yeah," sneers Jack, straightening his posture, "and thanks for the ringing in my ears, o' obsolete one."
"Why are we here, Jack?" seethes Wuya through grit… mask. Her red swirls are livid. Once again, the hag's extra appendages are flowing erratically. Clearly she's expecting to not like the answer. His insult likely upset her further.
'Great, this again,' laments Jack. Not even five minutes, and already she's trying to start another bicker session over some apparent flaw of his. Like she even knows what evil is. Over fifteen hundred years and she still didn't know that it's gloating first, then vaporizing. Miss "I wreaked havoc and destruction when the Earth was still young, and mankind was just climbing out of the mud."
Yeah, well at that rate, it's gonna take another fifteen centuries just for her to get the basics down. Even Tubbs has made it that far in his evil career, and that tub of lard isn't anywhere near the triple digits, never mind four.
"Could ya just chill for once," complains Jack in slight exasperation. "Seriously, just shut up and you'll see."
"Let. Me. Guess," Wuya grounds out. "You're going to trade another Shen Gong Wu that should be mine for more of your useless junk. AGAIN!" she roars at the end of her otherwise hissed out accusation.
It's amazing. Just like that – so soon after posing it – he's got the (obvious) answer to his question: not this. If knowing what a Shen Gong Wu does before usage means feeling like he lives in a jet engine, he is more than happy to give it up. "Ignorance is bliss" never bore more truth in his life than right now.
The dead wench is taking the fun out evil, and that's just the wrong kind of wrong.
Finding out won't be too hard anyways. Those Xiaolin Losers – particularly the cheeseball – are always yelling about the Wu and usually blurt out the artifact's name.
More importantly, though, Jack aspires to be an evil genius, not a deaf one waiting on retina failure to kick in alongside CIPA disease.
"Quick question: Why are you here?" Jack queries, arms crossing tightly. Agitated expectancy narrows his eyes just a little further.
"What?" asks a rather wide-eyed, perplexed Wuya, taken aback by the question.
"Why are you with me? AGAIN," he clarifies, mimicking her wretched voice for the last word. "Last I recall," he jabs a thumb into his chest, "I told you," then thrusts a pointing finger at her, "to take a HIKE, since I don't need you anymore." Snidely, he tacks on, "Still don't, actually, considering you do literally nothing."
"What are you trying to say," Wuya inquires, glaring menacingly while ascending to his face.
"To get lost!" Jack yells in reply, raising a stiff thumb to point over his shoulder. "Go give someone else perforated ears," Jack grumbles out, wholeheartedly returning her glare. A thought hits him, though, making him instead leer right in her face. "Or better yet: go haunt some abandoned dump, like a real evil spirit."
The moment those words fly free, Wuya yells in outrage, mask-like face looking up in uncontrollable rage as her risen appendages shake in unrighteous fury. No sooner than the piercing bellow echos from her ethereal lips, Wuya is futilely punching at his face, her limbs passing harmlessly through.
'Boom,' thinks Jack, intense satisfaction darkening the black heart in his chest. A grin to match the encompassing feeling plasters to his face. Sure, it's not exactly what he's been hoping for, but it's good enough. She's yelling harshly at him – vulgarities no doubt. However, Jack's too preoccupied with the glee widening his smile to understand her raging hollers, close as she is.
'Jack Spicer, you've officially reached new heights in evil.'
All he manages to make out – thanks to that breath – from her bout of fury is "–er get my body back, I'll make you PAY for this insolence, boy" and "haunt you until your dying day". The first one doesn't matter. She's never getting that back. That second bit, though? It's kinda dubious. It doesn't remove the smile from his face, but a small portion of him wonders if she'll really do that.
Though by the time he's paying enough attention to try and ask, she's gone.
Jack groans, thinking, 'Great, now I'm afraid to go home… Lovely.'
Nonetheless, he perks up in the next instance. 'However! She's finally gone!' He hopes it's permanent this time. Just too bad he'll likely see her during his Wu-hunting quests.
'Eh, joyous day nonetheless.'
And with that concluding thought, the goth begins looking forward to a relatively Wuya-less future. Though Jack can't help but feel like he's forgetting something… or someone, rather.
Thinking, Jack's eyes wander to the left. Something enters his peripheral, however, earning his head's curious turn. It's PandaBubba. He's a short ways from Jack, looking at the redhead with mild bewilderment. A touch of amusement forms a crease on his forehead. The mob boss likely heard every one of Wuya's departing words that Jack himself mostly ignored. Though it's a wonder how none of the workers down below are staring up at him. Sure, the machinery down below is noisy, but that wench?
Dedication if he's ever seen it.
Jack coughs into a hand, clearing his throat in an attempt to dissipate the awkwardness left in the atmosphere. PandaBubba's expression sobers back into a gruff stare, and his shoulders square.
"So," begins Jack, approaching PB, "like I was saying, I've brought the Zing Zom-Bone, just as you requested." He reaches into his trench coat, producing the Wu. PandaBubba's lips curl just so at the sight of it. One end of Jack's twists in mutual cruelty.
Reaching PandaBubba, Jack stops and hands over the Wu. The man eyes the artifact with a devious smile. However, Jack's enjoyment of the ensuing evil deal is short-lived; his red eyes sharpen.
"Now where are those state-of-the-art Koi-Bots you promised me?" Jack demands.
The mob boss chuckles darkly, still eyeing his prize.
"Just as we agreed upon, Spicer," PandaBubba smoothly replies, lifting an arm and snapping his fingers. The double doors on the other end of the platform fly open, earning Jack's attention behind PB. In fly four fish-shaped robots in a column formation.
They are bulkier than Jack's version, bearing no moving parts. Curved, thick fins align their sides, black in color. A stripe of matching color goes straight down their backs. A longer U-shaped one begins at their heads, curving over round red eyes to run down each of their sides. Dark bronze coats the rest of the bots' finish, keeping in line with his Jack-Bot's usual color scheme.
He eyes the sharp teeth in the new design's gaping jaws with a sharp grin of his own, the look turning excitedly toothy when his orbs lift to view the new armaments. On each side of the bots' thick dorsal fin lies an attached gatling gun. At the very top is a rocket propulsion system that's yellow-red at the pointed front tip.
The colors barely have time to mingle with the red of Jack's eyes before he darts off. Rushing past Pandabubba he goes, blowing the man's clothing like a passing car. He hugs the very first one in the column, arms winding tightly around its large snake-head.
"They're… they're beautiful," praises the boy genius in awe. Jack's face rubs on the cold metal for a moment, taking a deep inhale of that wonderful new robot smell. Exhaling, he removes his face from the bot, eyeing it with a wicked smile, saying, "Gotta love it."
He starts taking in the finer details, but is cut short by his company.
"So, Spicer," begins PB, Jack turning to him, "from one evil genius to another, how did you get this Wu?"
Jack smirks at the question.
"Funny you should ask, PB," says Jack, hand on hip whilst lifting a finger gun at the crime lord.
Lowering the pointing hand, Jack elaborates: "It was simple, really. I disguised one of my robots as a ninja, and while every one was fighting, he snagged the Wu and quietly disappeared unnoticed." Jack snorts thereafter, saying, "Not even Clown Face noticed." He shakes his head after the derisive comment, crossing his arms with a light chuckle.
Okay, so maybe he was fibbing a little bit with the "quietly" part, but it was generally a true story.
Either way, he imagines PandaBubba is quite impressed. It isn't every day that one gets to hear the amazing tales of his genius intellect triumphing over those who oppose him. And it isn't because it rarely happens… He just sometimes runs into a bit of bad luck is all.
"Nice work," commends PandaBubba. "When we first met, I took you for an incompetent boob."
"Well, I do my best," Jack replies with pride, eyeing a risen, overturned hand while he runs its thumb across curled fingers. When done, he rubs the back of his fingers along his chest, looking to the broad man after lowering the limb.
"Anyways," Jack starts again, sobering and turning curious, "now that you've got the Zom-Bone, what's up next on your agenda?" The sinister curl twisting at the corners of his mouth is irresistible. "Something evil, I hope."
"Of course," returns PandaBubba in a low, menacing voice. The crime boss walks to the edge of the platform, placing a firm hand upon the metal railing. His gaze lowers to the workers on the lower level.
"You see, zombie workers are very good at following orders." After these ominous words, PandaBubba reaches an arm down over the railing, pointing the Zom-Bone at the workers.
"Zing Zom-Bone!" shouts PB.
The artifact opens – sort of like a clam – revealing yellow-glowing internals. The moment it's fully open, a gelatinous yellow energy shoots out. The energy rushes toward the lower level, expanding until it splits apart into countless traveling appendages. Some go for the workers within the room, encapsulating them in its ethereal glow whilst the other bodies of energy continue on in search of victims to enslave.
When the energy dissipates from around the workers, they let out dull moans. Their eyes pop wide open, yet there's no focus in any of them. Their expressions are otherwise dead. Some even have open mouths that are starting to leak saliva.
'Yup, no intelligence at all,' confirms Jack, leaning on the railing. His arms cross atop the metal barrier. He watches with mild amusement as PandaBubba barks a plethora of demands at the zombies. When done, the crime boss turns toward Jack, a menacing glint in his eyes to match the sinister curl of his lips.
"With a work force of slave labor, I'll soon control the entire electronics market," declares PandaBubba in explanation. His customary evil laugh then comes forth, and Jack joins in with his very own just for the fun of it.
Laughing evilly is a favorite past time, after all. The evil boy genius will take every opportunity to do so. But all evil things come to an end, unfortunately.
"Nice laugh, PB," compliments Jack, ending his own on trailing chuckles. 'Not as good as mine, though,' he affirms. No one possesses a better evil laugh than him; it's a fact of criminal life.
Except maybe Chase. He's pretty cool, even if he did lose to Master Monk Guan. Though with the technology PandaBubba currently has at his disposal, partnership with the mob boss seems far more enticing.
Free.
Robot.
Parts.
"Hey, you know, we should partner up," Jack suggests. His arms raise whilst a nefarious, ecstatic grin spreads across his features. "Between your access to technology and my genius, we could rule the world!" The proclamation ends right as the teen's arms rest at an arc in front of himself, exposed fingers tense and curled like claws.
"Tempting," PandaBubba retorts, Jack's grin widening in response. The stout man seems to think on it, raising a hand to rub his chin. His eyes wander a moment, then return to Jack. "But I'll pass," decides PB, dropping the limb.
"Huh?" Jack gapes at him, arms swiftly dropping to his sides in utter let-down.
"My interests lie in the ruling of Hong Kong, not the world," PandaBubba simply replies.
A frustrated sigh escapes Jack's lips, him saying "fine, fine" whilst waving a dismissive hand at the mob boss. The redhead leans on the railing again, propping an elbow on it and dropping his cheek into the hand. Pouting sourly, he eyes the brain-dead floor below.
Well, it isn't like he was going to be a loyal partner anyways, something he's sure goes both ways. Just like last time, it would be a game of "who betrays who first". Too bad he lost the first time around… but hey, at least he fooled those Xiaolin Losers that day. Jack still clearly remembers Surfer Boy's outrage at his fellow losers choosing Jack over him.
The recollection turns his frown upside down. He's positively smiling, red eyes lazily roaming over row after row of brain-dead workers.
It really was stupid on their part. Trusting him over their own friend/teammate? His ensuing chuckle can never be dark enough, though it does echo lowly in the large room.
If it'd been him, he would have done the polar opposite, or better yet: pretend to go along with it.
Nonetheless, it's a moot thought, he knows, if intensely amusing. He has no friends to speak of. Never did.
Not that he's looking, either, or anything.
Yet his mood is going South again with the current musing. What was once a smile is now a neutral line. So he turns his head in his hand to look at the awesome, new, state-of-the-art Koi-Bots he now has thanks to the trade with PandaBubba. His previous expression returns with vigor.
He can't wait to take them apart and study their internals, so he can make his own improvements. A tweak here, a tune-up there, and he'll be ready for the replication process. The very concept fills him with gleeful excitement. Then he'll never–
Is that food he smells?
Lifting his head from his palm, Jack turns to look in PB's direction. Sure enough, there's a zombified worker standing next to PandaBubba, holding a tray bearing one burger and soft drink. Yet PandaBubba makes no move for the meal. His focus is still zeroed in on the idiot workers doing his bidding down below…
Well he'd eat it if the crime boss isn't going to; Jack hasn't eaten anything since leaving his home for the Zom-Bone. Of which he blames a certain absent wench.
"Hey, PB," calls Jack, not earning the man's gaze, "you gonna eat that?"
"No. I'm vegetarian," replies PandaBubba. The content smile on his face changes not in the least.
Jack makes a face at the mob boss. Then why did he order the worker to bring it – for the smell?
He glowers. "O-kay, well–"
"PandaBubba! Stop this!"
The loud voice comes from the direction of Jack's original entrance. PandaBubba turns to regard the person. Jack walks up behind his evil company, peering over PandaBubba's shoulder.
There's a rather short, older man walking towards them. His dress is casual, upper-wear consisting of a grey shirt underneath a yellow button-up one. An orange happy-face lies in the center of his undershirt, belted brown slacks and shoes making up the rest of four-eye's outfit.
Jack's brow raises incredulously at the sight of him.
"These workers are my loyal employees," stresses the man, coming to a stop before PandaBubba. Falser words have never been spoken before the evil genius. He almost laughs out loud, but Jack manages to get a hand over his mouth on time, sticking to restrained snickers instead. He merely relaxes against the railing and watch things play out.
"No," refutes PandaBubba, "they are now MY loyal employees!"
PandaBubba's attention goes to the enslaved worker next to himself. Orders are barked out, and the worker complies, getting down on all fours. The redhead's features scrunch up in annoyance, watching the food sloppily fall to the metal platform's floor. Then the worker rolls over it like some kind of human rolling pin. By the time PandaBubba orders the man to play dead, Jack's eyes are glued to him in a harsh, withering glare.
He's more convinced than ever of it: The food was meant to tick him off. In fact, had he gotten to ask, Jack is one-hundred percent certain he'd have gotten a no – all without even a single glance in his direction.
"You lied to me about who you were," Manager Dude bitterly replies, reproachful. The forced doings of his "loyal" employee seems to have irked him greatly. "If I had known that you were the infamous PandaBubba, I never would have let you into my company."
"Your company," PandaBubba mocks in the form of false query. He's laughing in the next instance, a sinister smoothness to the noise that tells of an impending end.
'Aaaaaaaannnnd,' awaits Jack.
The moment his laugh ends, PandaBubba thrusts out his arm, pointing the Wu straight at Manager Dude. Its name leaves the mob boss' lips and the artifact opens once more, yellow energy shooting out from its glowing innards before Manager Dude can even facially react.
In no time, PandaBubba has yet another mindless, moaning, dead-eyed servant.
Right on schedule.
"Now, where's my coffee drink?" demands PandaBubba of his newest addition. The now-groaning man turns and walks off, feet dragging a measure.
Seeing as this was the end of the brief confrontation, Jack lets his eyes wander. To the side his red orbs trail. They go past a set of double doors. No sooner than they pass, though, he performs a double-take just in time to see one door shut.
Blinking a few times, Jack stares at the entrance. His head quirks. Did he just imagined that or...?
His brows draw together. He decides to ignore it. After all, this is PandaBubba's operation, not his. He probably did just imagine it anyways.
Mentally waving it off, his eyes go back down to the lower level. His expression dulls considerably at the familiar sight of workers working robotically at conveyor belts.
"Well, this has been fun, PB, but I'll be on my way now. Evil plans to act upon and all."
PandaBubba's eyes remain on his work force. "Very well, Spicer."
Clearly, he's still bathing in the glory of his evil machinations paying off.
"Right," Jack mutters to himself, walking past the broad man. His new bots follow behind.
As soon as he begins to open one of the double doors, though, the self-proclaimed evil genius suddenly remembers that he has no clue where to go to leave this place. Loud and gruff is the groan that escapes his lips. He shoves the door open and stalks out, preparing himself for another bout of senseless wandering.
Maybe if he found Manager Dude, he could ask him which way to go. 'Then again, would that even work now that he's technically a mindless zombie…?'
Probably not. Doesn't even matter, anyways, since he severely doubts that he'll be able to find the damn guy in this mess of a skyscraper.
After what seems like an hour of hopeful turns and opening random doors, Jack stumbles upon a staircase. He shrugs. A new floor seems rather enticing. Yet as he descends the steps, numerous enslaved workers trudge their way past him, serving as constant reminders of the fact that it's all PandaBubba's fault he's in this stupid situation. Thus, each receives a nastier side-glance than the last.
Exiting the stairwell, Jack makes his way down another teal hallway.
He yet again can't help but wonder just why the heck they had to meet up in that damn room. If they'd met at the entrance, it would have been quicker. If they'd met in the back, it would have been quicker. Hell, if they'd met on the roof, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN QUICKER. There was no reason for them to have to–
A muffled yell has his ears twitch. Mild familiarity earns his head's lean in the direction. Hearing it once more lets him place it as Manager Dude.
Jack immediately runs. Down the hallway he goes, sprinting around a right turn. He rushes down the new path. Another T-junction is upcoming, and he's just about at it when he hears another voice – one that he doesn't need any time to recognize.
"Papa, I'm not leaving without an explanation!"
That is Kimiko. Distraught as she may sound, Jack pulls on the breaks, and the moment his boots finish squeaking on the floor, he throws himself against a wall. Inch by inch, his feet quietly slide over the floor as he makes his way towards the T-intersection of the hallway. When at it, he sluggishly peers around the corner.
A nearby door is open. There's indiscernible speech emanating from the room. Last he saw, though, all the monks were together. Meaning it's more than likely that the other losers in training are in there.
'Man, can't I ever catch a break?' complains the evil genius, getting angry at this new annoying turn of events. 'What the heck are these losers even doing here anyways?'
More yelling causes him to pull back a bit. A lone, wide red eye remains in watch.
"I want you all out of here now!" yells MD's voice, whom is apparently Kimiko's father. Jack's eyebrows draw inward while he keeps an eye on the open doorway. The actual dots take time to register and fully connect.
Upon making the connection, however, the realization strikes Jack.
That's why the name Tohomiko had seemed so familiar: It's Kimiko's last name! To think that her father is – was the owner of this gigantic company… What a surprise. Then again, she is rather tech-savvy, so he supposes it makes sense.
"GO!"
The demand is so harsh, so loud, that it actually echoes down the hall Jack is in. He can't help but grimace; however, the thought of it having been directed straight at the Dragon of Fire curls his lips despite his tightly shut eyes. He snickers whilst re-opening them.
Finally it's not him on the receiving end. It's about time someone else has their sense of hearing destroyed. Maybe he can't see it, but hearing is believing, too, and boy did he ever hear it. In fact, he keeps a wide open ear just in case another comes along.
His auditory effort is quickly cut short by footsteps approaching the room's open doorway. He blinks owlishly, frowning dully. But the moment one spec of a loser is in view, Jack's head pulls back behind cover.
He hears them walk out of the room, a distinct close of the door sounding. He's ready to bolt should they walk in his direction. Pale fingers tap on the wall he's plastered to, Jack counting the seconds on one hand before deciding to ever slowly peak around the corner again.
The sight of their slumped shoulders has him smirking crookedly, one sharp row of teeth showing. His orbs rush toward the target of Mr. T's aggression, his smile widening even further in preparation. His lips twitch upward at both ends upon sighting her.
The look ever-slowly rescinds. Despite himself, his lips close together, coming to form a thin line as his eyebrows raise.
Kimiko is… crying. Kimiko , the feisty, fiery tempered, strong-willed Dragon of Fire. The others surround her miserable form, Kimiko's head lower than the rest as she took large, watery interest in the floor tiles.
She raises a hand after a more than obvious failed attempt at holding back a sob, Jack's brows coming together. He frowns when Kimiko's hand flies to her face to cover her eyes, the girl's jaw visibly clenching. Then her chin scrunches, and the tears manage to pass her hand; a pitiful noise lodges in her throat in some sad form of a hiccup.
Twenty Gallons and Surfer Boy put a hand on a shoulder of hers each. Omi approaches her front.
By then, Jack's expression is all but snarling. Jack fists his hands, trying to clench them harder than the feeling in his chest. Trying to scowl harder, if he can. Yet it is the tiled floor that his eyes look to, a frown pulling hard at the corner of his lips. He's still got his nose scrunched up a measure, managing to clutch onto what he can of his pitch black heart that doesn't at all feel like it's trying to regain color while twisting into a tight knot.
The return of Jack's gaze to Kimiko is slow-going, and his expression sours a measure as he sees Omi gently pulling her hand away. Cueball's sad sympathy for his fellow loser goes unnoticed, however, as her eyes are shut tight.
By then, Jack has had enough of the hurt in her expression. His chest actually squeezes, if that's even possible – which it shouldn't – and Jack turns on his heel to get the heck out of this place.
Omi starts speaking to her – something about evil being afoot – but Jack is unable to catch much of it with the brisk pace he's moving at. Despite his larger steps, the bots have little trouble keeping up in relative silence, though the gentle thrums of their jet engines fail to improve his mood.
Once again, his state of mind has gone South, only this time it's gone all the freaking way to the damn Pole. Which is completely unfair on account of none of this being his fault. It's their fault for not getting the Wu. Isn't that their loser goal? Get the Wu and prevent however many years of darkness? Well if they'd been paying attention instead of falling for the same old tricks, maybe they wouldn't be in this situation – that he's got nothing to do with, might he add.
Seriously, how many times are simple diversions going to cut it? He might as well just start using dummies. Movement seems to be the key factor, nevermind weaponry.
Besides, he isn't even the one using the Zom-Bone. It's PandaBubba. And there you go. Not his fault.
… Yet the unpleasant feeling in Jack's chest persists. If anything, it feels like it's getting worse.
'What the hell?' grouses Jack, sullenly. Frustration brings a rumbling growl from his throat, the noise lodging there for a moment.
Why did he have to see that for? Why couldn't he just stumble upon an exit of any kind and leave the place with his amazing new bots, remaining ignorant of the traumatic experience he maybe caused the girl to go through?
Jack groans in exasperation, adding a facepalm into the mix. Somehow, that actually sounds worse, though he can't exactly place why. He lowers his hand, going back to an acidic glare aimed ahead.
Okay, fine, it is his fault. He's evil, though, so what the heck does he care? If anything, this is just another accolade to slap on the evil resume – qualifications that, of course, are growing with each passing day.
Only… this addition isn't bringing happiness. The aching beat in his chest solidifies it, and his shoulders slump as he truly thinks on it...
Kimiko never would have gone through any of that if he hadn't made the trade with PandaBubba. Seeing her cry with a sorrow that only familial issues could lower one to hadn't brought him the least bit of joy. If he wanted to mess with them on such a personal level, Jack could have done so many times already. There are certainly options available to him, particularly in Texas, but he's got better things to do than trashing families. Non-goodness knows he's had enough of that crap in his life.
So he's rather alright with the lack of glee that has come from seeing Kimiko drowning in such sorrow. Pretty okay, actually... He's definitely evil – no doubt about it – but… that's not his.
His arms cross, shoulders rising a measure. Jack's eyes cast downward in dull thought as his walk slows.
While guilt-inducing, the sighting of Kimiko crying is also odd. Mystifying, really, since – as far as he knows – she never cries. Anger always seemed to be her go-to emotion. He may not know her or any of the monks that well, but he knows for certain that Kimiko is one tough cookie. A cookie that cracks and melts every tooth in your mouth before the bite can even be attempted.
He snickers at the thought, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. It's a brief change in his expression, though, Jack's continuing thoughts bringing back a frowning consideration.
For her to cry like that because of her father, they have to have something akin to a positive relationship. That brings a different feeling to his chest. One that wraps its envious claws around his already-black heart, bringing a new negative emotion: jealousy. He wishes he could have something even remotely in that general ballpark with either of his own parents.
It's a horrendously idiotic sentiment, however. The boy's shoulder slump again, this time going all the way down. His head follows suit, if for a moment, the boy genius grunting and shaking his head in an attempt to shake off the thoughts and emotions.
He forces his head up high, wiping angrily at his eyes. Once more he shakes his head, this time shoving those thoughts back down the trench of his brain.
His slowing walk finally comes to a complete pause. Through Jack's parting lips passes a resigned sigh.
This is going to feel all sorts of odd. There's an unfamiliar warmth replacing the dread in his pores, and he's not so sure he welcomes it, but it's better than the previous feeling, and he decides to roll with it. Even if he is technically going to be doing something without an ulterior motive.
Jack turns to the upgraded Koi-Bot closest to him.
'Well, hopefully this works. If the AI is anything like my old model's, it should.'
He jabs a finger at the robot. "You. Retrace our journey back to where we were before leaving PandaBubba." His order is met with a low series of beeps, the Koi-Bot's red eyes glowing a brighter red momentarily. To his relief, it begins to move ahead of him, complying with his command. The evil genius smiles, satisfied while he follows it in front of the other three bots.
'Well, it's not like anyone's gonna find out about this,' Jack reasons. 'Not if I can help it anyways.'
Jack has a reputation to uphold after all. The prospect of ruining his evil career is now all too real. Evildoers just don't do things like this. It's as much a fact as PandaBubba's shortsightedness. And he is NOT, may he repeat, NOT a goody-good hero. In no way is this evil genius into running around in some sorry excuse for a bathrobe while barfing all over the place because of a constantly undulating dragon-ride.
NO. Hell no. Evil to the max, baby! The rules are his to make, limitations nowhere in sight. He can play the game however he sees fit: no rules or regulations.
Plus, he's got the perfect look to match. Not even Chase Young himself sports such an ominous, shady appearance. Though Klofa-
NO! That didn't- It's not- He's no-
Neutral! Neutral is even preferable to good. Big time. Not just greatly, but honestly, because at least then he'd have all the time in the world to work on his robots. Not to mention the end it would bring to his constant repairs done to everything. There are some really swell ideas that he's continuously having to post-pone due to that last detail.
'Meh... I guess I can go that route when evil loses its amusement,' Jack considers, shrugging a shoulder. He snorts, though, thinking in utter doubt, 'If that's even possible.'
Unlikely as it seems, though, it's still good to have a back-up plan, just in case. After all, it's important to keep your options open.