Too many failures had come to pass during the days since he had taken his first step into evil. In all honesty, he felt he wasn't even on the side of evil half the time. Wuya made sure to remind him of that regularly during her rants, and oh there were many. This was far from what his creative imagination had pictured.

Too many nights, filled to the brim with disappointment, when he'd literally drag himself home with a body so bruised and beaten that the only spoils he had were the dark splotches of flesh littering his fair skin. Those monks had no idea what kind of suffering they caused him. The Wu were all they cared for. But he was the one on the wrong side. Of course he deserved this sort of beating. At least, in their eyes he did.

See, the problem was that no one ever considered whether or not the evil ones had any feelings underneath those dark airs they put on for show. It was just custom to assume these beings were rotten to the core. Or maybe Jack was just not cut out to play the evil role in this grand play of his life.

Again, Wuya certainly made it seem that way. For the past hour, all the albino could hear were her screeches of disappointment and disapproval.

And for the first time in his life, he blocked all the noise out instead of spitting out some form of smartass rebuttal.

Had those monks not destroyed his helipac, he could've been home in a moment's notice and saved himself the lecture provided by his ghostly companion. It was the hour of painfully dragging himself home through the bitter winter wind that discerned something: he was through with being mocked and beaten like a punching bag.

"Jack, you fool, are you even listening to-".

SLAM!

Slamming the door in the ghost's face would've provided a sweet feeling had Wuya actually been able to feel the thick plank of wood smashed against her. Although he knew it wouldn't cause any physical damage, Jack was sure he'd guaranteed himself some alone time. Wuya fortunately learned not to follow her "partner in crime" when he locked himself away in the bathroom. Seeing him in the buff once was enough for the apparition.

After some time of thinking, the male clicked his tongue and allowed his head to thump back against the door, pale lids seeping down to curtain dahlia hues. Was he really going to go back out there, sleep, and wake up the next day to devise a brand-new plan? A heavy sigh was drawn from his lungs, and with it went his will to do anything.

"Did you see the look on Spicer's face when we showed up? I bet even the pigs back home looked better than he did when the butcher came for 'em!" The blonde cowboy chortled away at his own joke, spinning their newly-acquired Wu around the tip of his index finger.

Amused chuckles from the other three monks soon joined in with the heftier laughter as each of the teens prepped themselves for their little night out. It was amazing that they were even allowed some time to themselves, never mind go out and about.

Unlike their enemy's home, the temple provided a rather cheerful atmosphere. Thin, wooden planks holding their sticks of Dragons Blood incense as it burned away, lanterns lit to provide a warm glow; there was to be celebrating tonight, and that was a definite. Christmas was just around the bend, and decorating for it couldn't have made a better way to end the day.

While Omi wasn't all too familiar with the holiday, his friends were, and they were more than glad to teach him in the ways of it.

Especially Kimiko.

With her poor father's credit cards in hand and her outfit already snuggly fitting her frame, the young woman all but pranced out with thoughts of what stores she planned on going to. Along with her went the Brazilian whom she'd become so fond of, sporting a sheepish grin at how close he got to be to her, and the last two monks.

They had won another challenge, Christmas was nearing, and the start of a brand new year was getting closer and closer. Life was splendid… for the monks.

But while they contentedly marched their way to the mall Kimiko had both her eyes and heart set on since the day they'd arrived to the temple, little did they know the turmoil surrounding their enemy.


Several minutes of staring down at the hands normally concealed by fingerless gloves passed. They were so calloused from constantly working on new devices.

For a minute, Jack blanked out and pondered what the point of making such inventions even was. No matter what, those monks always managed to break them. Wuya's annoyed grumbles as she paced, floated, back and forth on the other side of the door reminded him why. Those accursed Wu.

It wasn't like he even wanted them for anything important, besides taking over and ruling the world. Even that had little reason behind it. Most would think that anyone bent on ruling the world as they knew it wanted nothing more than all the power and money they could get their hands on. Jack?

For Jack… it was the attention.

He wanted people to know him.

He wanted the attention and to prove himself as a worthy being. His parents did a horrible job of that. He reminded himself of a spoiled, little brat throwing a tantrum until they got what they wanted. And the more those thoughts rang in his mind, the less appealing his grand plan sounded.

Any therapist could blame this on his parents. They had the wealth, the looks, everything. Everything but parenting skills. This house he lived in, the money for the technology, everything from the goggles around his neck to the coat he donned was all provided by none other than mister and missus Spicer. Being as neglectful as they were, the two hadn't a clue on just what their son had built in the basement of the house they were barely in. The albino was a prime example of what happens when parents neglect their children for so many years.

Most kids would just become drug addicts or alcoholics.

Maybe both.

Jack simply became bent on taking over the world. There were plenty of opportunities for him to get shitfaced or high out of his mind: if he had the knowledge to create half of what was in his lab, creating an ID for booze would be elementary.

But he strayed away from anything that would harm his mind in fear that they would get in the way of and eventually ruin his childhood goal of being leader of the world. If only- knock knock knock.

Confusion seeped into the red eyes as soon as they opened, which proceeded to sink into his facial expression. Thin legs carried him out of the bathroom where he holed himself up, head turning to throw a quick glance at the large grandfather clock as he continued on to the front door.

Eight o'clock.

Who in god's name was knocking at Jack Spicer's door at eight in the evening? What little friends he had were off in different continents for the upcoming New Year celebration, and he knew they wouldn't be back anytime soon. Especially not before the new year even arrived. A pang of worry struck him like a car smashing into a brick wall. What if it was something not only unexpected, but unpleasant? What if-

"Will you quit standing around and open the door, Jack?!" the ghost near him screeched.

Pushing back the jolt that threatened to shake his body like before, Jack crept up to the door oh, so silently and just as quietly unlocked the large, wooden door. As if being quiet would help him after his partner decided to open that gaping hole she called a mouth.

If vampires existed, and if the person behind the door was one of the undead creatures, Jack was sure they'd be able to hear the blood-pumping organ in his chest beating against the ribs it hid behind. With a deep inhale through the nostrils, he finally grasped the cold metal of the doorknob and twisted it, prying the barrier between himself and this stranger.

"I should've looked through the peephole," he grumbled oh so quietly to himself, a grumble that couldn't possibly be heard by the human ear, "here's to not dying…"