A/N: Sorry I took so long with this part; I've been off camping in wild, coyote infested lands that have no internet. Thanks to everyone who reviewed- you fill my days with sunshiny joy! Or something like that. : )
You could have heard a pin drop when the new Jack Spicer descended from the heavens on his heli-pack. His hair (now smooth and lustrous, thanks to Bobby's recommended conditioner) shone in the light of the setting sun that filtered through the tall evergreen trees around them. His new outfit showed off his lithe body off to great advantage. He looked older, sophisticated, and decidedly more attractive- a fact not lost on the wide eyed Kimiko.
His usual swirling goggles were nowhere in sight, replaced by a small, discreet pair made of amber glass. His eyeliner was much thinner and more skillfully applied than usual. Instead of giving the impression that Jack had been attacked by a rabid black crayon, it actually looked rather alluring.
Ignoring the staring monks, he zoomed straight by them, headed for the Bear Baton. It was held in the mouth of a realistically carved bear perched at the top of a tall totem pole. Several bots followed him, ready to engage and distract the Xiaolin, but they stood stunned as he flew past. Jack grabbed the Bear Baton deftly, sliding it from between the teeth of the wooden totem.
He turned and hovered for a moment, giving the monks an ironic salute. "Later losers!" he called. The he zoomed away, a smile on his face and the Bear Baton held tightly in one hand.
This was just too easy.
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A long moment of silence ensued before Raimundo spoke.
"Dudes- was that Jack?" he asked with incredulity in his voice.
"It certainly did look like the varmint," Clay replied, sounding a little doubtful, "but he seemed a darn sight more . . . somethin'."
"Hot?" Omi piped up.
Raimundo gave him an odd look. "I think you mean cool, Omi. And as much I hate to say it, I think you're right. Jack actually looked kind of cool."
"Oh yes, that is what I meant. Very low in temperature." Thankfully for him, Raimundo didn't notice the blush staining Omi's cheeks.
Kimiko, the most insightful member of the group, might have noticed the blush and recognized it for what it was had she not been too busy staring off into the sunset, straining for a last glimpse of Jack.
She thought he was pretty hot too.
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From his position behind a nearby tree, Jack listened and smirked. As soon as he was safely out of sight, which hadn't taken long in the dense pine forest, he had doubled back to listen in on what the monks thought about his new look. As he listened to them talk, he was more relieved than he cared to admit, and growing vainer by the second.
"Oh yeah!" he crowed, very quietly, to himself. "Who's a sexy evil boy genius? I'm a sexy evil boy genius."
"Surprisingly, I'm almost inclined to agree with you."
Jack almost wet his pants as he yelped and spun around, causing the owner of the voice to give a small, dark chuckle.
Chase Young was standing there, trademark evil grin on his face as he looked at Jack.
Jack just stared, utterly captivated by the sight of the man he'd so recently realized his feelings for. Chase looked like some dark forest god, bronze eyes gleaming in the shadows that were growing ever blacker as the last remnant of sun slipped away. The look on his face made Jack's knees weak. That looked like . . . approval. And had Chase just agreed that Jack was sexy?
He fought the urge to squeal and won- barely.
As the look on Chase's face began to turn into the annoyed expression he knew so well, Jack realized he needed to say something. Summoning his courage, he stood up straight, opened his mouth, and said the most intelligent thing he could think of:
"Hi Chase. What are you doing here?"
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Unlikely though he was to ever admit it, Chase was very, very glad he'd decided to come despite his lack of interest in the Bear Baton. Watching Jack had been both amusing and enlightening. Although the boy had displayed little skill, he hadn't needed it, due to his good sense and the monks' startlement. Chase couldn't truly blame them, however. Jack certainly looked very different.
He absolutely refused to use the word 'ravishing', even in his own head.
He laughed as Jack spun around in surprise, panic stamped across his features, and then froze completely. As Jack stood staring and said nothing in reply to the compliment, however, the warlord began to grow annoyed. Apparently Jack hadn't matured entirely; he was still petrified by Chase's presence.
Then Jack abruptly straightened up, his face calm, and Chase began to second-guess his own analysis. Had Jack been waiting for an attack, perhaps? That certainly didn't look like a defensive stance, but Chase had taken him by surprise . . . and maybe he knew that no stance on earth would save him from Chase Young.
Ego stroked, he was abruptly back in a good mood.
"Hi Chase." Jack's voice was casual but friendly. "What are you doing here?"
He gave Jack the same excuse that he'd given himself.
"I came to observe Omi. He still has great potential for Evil."
Chase saw Jack's face fall, and repressed a sigh. Jack still liked him enough to be jealous, it seemed, and like everyone else he assumed that Chase cared for Omi. He let them think so, because it certainly made the self-righteous monk more inclined to listen to him when they talked. But truly, what Chase liked was the power that came with having Omi under his thumb.
A thousand years of darkness, wrought by his hand, and a burning world that bowed to his rule? For that kind of power, he would show affection to a dead fish.
Changing the subject, Chase indulged his curiosity.
"I rather like the new costume, Spicer. What inspired the change?"
Jack looked down at himself as though he'd forgotten what he was wearing.
"Oh, this? I just thought I should wear something a little more in keeping with my new evil inspiration."
So Jack had replaced him with another idol. Although he knew he should be pleased, Chase's good mood slipped a notch.
"I see. And who exactly is this inspiration?"
There was a long pause.
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Jack's mind raced furiously. He did not, of course, really have a new inspiration. Who could ever replace Chase Young? But the fourth step in the plan was making Chase jealous, and this was his best chance. It was also a great excuse for the wardrobe change.
If only he could think of a villain who dressed like this . . .
Suddenly Jack's mind skipped back a comment Bobby had made, about dressing him as Twilight instead of Queen of the Damned. Vampire movies . . . goth fashion . . . that was it!
"I'm not sure you would know about him," he said hesitantly, covering for his long moment of silence. "Have you ever heard of Prince Vlad the Third of Wallachia?"
"Prince Vlad the Third . . . the name does sound familiar." Chase's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Vlad of Wallachia." Suddenly his eyes widened. "Vlad Dracula? The Transylvanian prince that inspired Bram Stoker's novel?"
It was fully night now, and he could hardly see a thing, but Jack could tell from Chase's tone that he was unimpressed. Summoning every bit of knowledge he possessed, he scrambled to cobble together a convincing story. Luckily, he had gone on a bit of a vampire kick a few years ago, and had quite a bit of research to back his story up.
"Yes. Most people just know the vampire myth, but there's a lot more to it than that. He was a powerful prince, and he was known throughout the world for the terrible ways he punished his enemies. He killed hundreds and tortured most of them, using the infamous stakes or working prisoners to death building his castle. But to his own people, he was a hero; he held off the Ottoman army and won victories for his country."
Jack warmed to his task, growing more confident as he spoke.
"Now he's a legend, immortalized because of his brutality. Stoker chose him because he fit the vampire story so well, and because vampire folklore was widespread in his home country. And who knows?" Jack shrugged, fairly certain Chase could see it even in the dark.
"He might have even become a vampire. I've never met one, but they're just as likely to exist as an evil talking bean or a warrior who can change into a dragon. Anyway you look at it, he had it all- he was evil, powerful, respected, famous, and immortalized in history if not in life."
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Chase was undeniably impressed. Jack was eloquent and persuasive as he spoke, losing the normal awkwardness in his eagerness to share information. One thing confused him, however.
"And this," he waved one elegant hand at Jack's ensemble "is the style that comes to mind when you think of a fifteenth century Transylvanian prince?"
Jack blushed, cheeks turning a delicate red in the dark.
"Not exactly. I went for the modern vampire interpretation. Artistic license and all that." Suddenly he shivered. "It's also a little cool for night work. It's been nice talking to you, but I'm gonna head home now. Bye Chase."
Jack strode a few paces away and activated his heli-pack without waiting for a goodbye. His robots followed him as he rose into the air, forming a line of light that trailed through the velvet black sky above the treetops. Chase stood for a long moment, watching him go.
Then the night air rushed in to fill the empty space as he willed himself home.
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Jack couldn't believe his audacity as he flew above the trees, shivering in the cold night air. He had actually chosen when to end the conversation, not to mention pulling a very plausible story out of thin air. More importantly, Chase had been interested in something he had to say.
Elation more than made up for the cold that racked him, and he spun giddily through the air.
"Chase likes meeee!" he shouted, then coughed as he inhaled large quantities of frigid air. Wrapping his arms around himself, he headed rapidly for home.
He had all night to celebrate in a nice, full, warm bathtub.
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That night, for the first time in a very long time, Chase dreamed.
He dreamed of Jack's alabaster skin, flushed not with shame but with lust, as Chase's forked tongue caressed that pale body, flicking lightly across the quivering boy. Soft, white fingers clawed at the sheets as Jack writhed frantically beneath his touch, quivering as claws traced lightly over his skin.
Forked tongue? Claws?
Chase gently forced himself into wakefulness, eyes shining through the darkness as he opened them. He glanced down, assuring himself that his body was in human form.
The view that met him was something many would have died for. He was naked, the way he always slept, and his body was glorious in repose. Perfect muscles rippled down his chest and stomach, leading to sharply defined hips. Below them his erection rose, thick and hard, causing Chase to hiss in annoyance. Why a dream about Jack Spicer would cause that reaction, he could not fathom. He supposed it had been a rather erotic dream, but that raised further questions. Why on earth was he dreaming of that insect in his bed- and himself in dragon form?
Chase Young had taken very few lovers over the centuries, although in truth he thought of them as playthings rather than people. Many sought his attentions –he was, after all, a veritable god of physical attractiveness- but Chase was usually unwilling to place himself in such a vulnerable position for a moment of pleasure.
On those rare occasions he did give in to his urges, he never did so in dragon form. Most people ran screaming at the mere sight of his inner beast, so it was hardly the form of choice when practicing seduction. His self-control was also considerably more precarious, meaning there was a slim but possible chance of him mauling his partner.
So why was he so lustfully dreaming of it now, with Spicer of all people? Heat pooled in his groin as he considered the dream, once again envisioning that slim, pale frame writhing beneath his stroking tongue. He wondered if Jack would beg him for sex, all that newly acquired calm melting into pure, submissive lust. He could almost hear that sweet young voice as Jack pleaded for release, almost see that radiant skin scored with the imprint of his gently nipping jaws. He imagined Jack's cries of pleasure as Chase thrust into him, clawed hands wrapped around snow-white hips.
Chase's hand brushed his erection, almost of its own accord, and he gasped into the darkness. His powerful hand stroked tenderly along the hard length as he imagined what it would be like to have Jack's hands there, caressing him before drawing him into that moist, eager mouth. Jack would moan around his length, swallowing his thrusting cock as Chase buried his hands in that bright, soft hair.
Chase growled, hips rolling, thrusting against his hand as he stroked harder. The flame-haired goth filled his mind as heat rose within him, pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. Without conscious direction he began to transform, scales spreading across his body as he arched upward, gasping as pleasure mingled with the pain of the change. He moaned loudly, tail lashing the bed as he came, warm liquid spraying across a hand now tipped with claws.
As the pleasure faded, Chase looked down at his true form and decided he needed a hobby.
Boredom had clearly driven him insane.