Disclaimer: I do not own Xiaolin Showdown. I do not own Jack Spicer. I felt that didn't have nearly enough epic Jack fan fics. I was greatly inspired by the JaKoPhIlE's fanfic "Jack". I would suggest it. It's very good. But then if you have been as much in search of Jack media as I have, you've probably already read it.
What Have I Done?
He couldn't believe his eyes. Before him lay the most horrific thing he could have imagined. A silver glint emerged and his reflection stared back at him in shock. Did he really just do that? How could he do that?
His knees gave out and he sank to the floor as he held on to the handle for dear life. Tears wouldn't even fall, not yet.
It was so hot as though the room were on fire. But he could see the flames lick the curtains and scorch the freshly laid dinner table. Did it really matter? He could just die for what he'd done. First the explosion, now this? He should just die.
The tears finally came silently. They poured down his face in black streaks mostly from the soot which had gathered on his face and his make-up. Soon he could die and the fire would eat away his life and everything he had in it.
Distantly he heard a knocking. He came to the conclusion that someone was trying to break the door down. NO! He had to die, here and now. After what he'd done he should just be dead.
Before he could even move the door was pushed away and people in yellow and red clothes swarmed around him. They stared down at him and each of them seemed to stop in horror at the sight before them. One of the yellow and red clad men came closer to him as he helplessly looked into each black tinted mask. Yellow arms wrapped around his hopelessly skinny waist. He hardly had time to think before he was hoisted up by a man three times his size. Desperately he fought the offence. He needed to die with them. Nothing could be set right unless he was dead. The world would be so much better off without him. Even they thought so.
The hidden item in his death grip came out and he plunged it into the fireman's arm. He was dropped to the floor and landed hard on his chest. The force winded him and another man grabbed him so his arms were pinned to his sides before he had time to recover. In his fight he kicked and squirmed with all his might. His struggles were to no avail.
The fireman's grip around his arms and upper chest began to crush his lungs. In addition he had no breathing protection from the smoke and the fumes so he felt lightheaded. He couldn't take it anymore. The inability to breathe, the shock, the pain; it was all unbearable. The young man didn't realize before just how much pain he was in. It stung in his chest, his hands, his legs, nearly everywhere. Just as the door to the outside, to safety, was opened blackness invaded his vision. The world swam and unconsciousness welcomed him.