Ten months later…
Life has been rather pleasant. Not overly fun by any means, but pleasant. However, both Jack's lair and automatons have come far since his landing in the area with his finished project all those months ago.
A.C.B.P. ended up reminiscent of a giant crab, though with clawed frontal limbs instead of giant pincers. Jack's leave from his house was atop the hulking bot following its limbs retractions, jet engines firing their exhaust from the pathways formed. Their flight was somewhat lengthy, but the breeze was nice, blowing Jack's hair and outfit around whilst he sat cross-legged on the beast's head; and he was in too good a mood to really care. His thin, lopsided smile couldn't cease.
Its landing in Jack's chosen location was a loud, earth-shaking one, the sizable bot steadfast in clawing its way down into the Earth. After its burrowing underground, a tube-like elevator structure extended from its top, drilling all the way back to the surface as the bot transformed into what would be the beginnings of Jack's lair: A simple bedroom space with a connected bathroom. The mildly limited space actually made Jack happy for the couple remaining Jack-bots left in service at the time. The last thing he needed was for it to be crowded.
Following the settling in, Jack swiftly began to look for work, fully intent on the use of his unmatched technological prowess. Thankfully, he didn't need a fake ID, as his was long ago modified by Granny to allow him her possessions; but it was still an admittedly slow start, at least until he finished his first few jobs for larger corporations. From then on, the workflow became steady, Jack settling in nicely as a robotics contractor that designed and/or built relatively simple robots for a plethora of companies and corporations.
Well, relative to his personal automatons, anyways.
It's just as well that the job pays handsomely, allowing for near non-stop work on said automatons. And since the contracts he takes on are for projects hardly worth his time, the jobs are short more often than not.
Still, the time away from personal projects was annoying, leading to his return to working on a specific bot.
Robo-Jack.
That particular project took the longest to complete. Over and over and over again, Jack reprogrammed his metallic clone, chips finely tuned each time to what the boy genius figured would finally manage to do the trick. By the time Robo-Jack was ready for his first test run, the base was multi-story; the new floors consisted of his lab and a storage facility for his creations. There were always plenty of revision 2.0 Jack-bots on stand-by within the lab during these testing sequences, their heavier weaponry at the ready for each and every betrayal Robo-Jack attempted time and time again. Thus making Jack's robotic clone the one project that returned him to a life of constant repairs, if temporarily.
Go figure.
The efforts were well-worth it, however, because when Jack finally did manage to get it right, those boring jobs became a thing of the past, annoying meetings with idiotic company CEOs long forgotten. That and everything else Jack didn't want to do officially became Robo-Jack's problem. Especially repairs, no matter how small they were.
But amidst his base's furthered expansion and project completions, things took a turn for the dull. Awesome bots, yes, definitely so. He'd have them blast any that dared say otherwise. However, that was just the problem: There was no blasting. Only storage. What was the point of building the machines if they were never going to see service? Heck, for a short duration, Jack actually began to have them vaporize small portions of snow-covered forest for entertainment. The satisfaction from the sounds of their weaponry was only beaten by that brought by their varying degrees and types of wrought devastation.
When the foliage lost its charred amusement, boulders with Wuya's ugly likeness spray-painted on them quickly became a new thing. Admittedly, that one lasted longer.
It just wasn't the same, though… There was no one to taunt, no foe to cackle at as they unsuccessfully tried to wrap their mind around how he brought them to an embarrassing defeat.
The hunt for Wu was missed. Everything else that came with that gig, though, wasn't. Those particular details were more than enough to have Jack ignore his Detecto-Bot's multiple soundings during his neutral life. The function was built into a watch he wore for more reasons than just that one, making the device's silencing a requirement every now and then. Banging it on the nearest surface available once or twice always did the trick when he couldn't be bothered to manually turn it off.
His device, his rules.
There was only one odd occurrence throughout his new life of neutrality: An email received from a certain monk's father, apparent interest in Jack's skills written within. What exactly the email said, he didn't know, as those things were Robo-Jack's to deal with, but the two of them readily agreed on the solution: ignore it. However, "it" turned into "them", a few more being sent sent before the message seemed to finally find its way into the company owner's skull.
He's done with his past life. In all regards. Xiaolin, Heylin, Shen Gong Wu, and everything in between is no longer a concern of his. So the last thing Jack was about to do was waltz up to one of the monk's parents for a possible job. Especially not hers. With his luck, she'd coincidentally be there for a visit, and one impacting small fist with contrasting power to the face was more than enough for this ex-evil genius. And if Kimiko's crying that day way back when was anything to go on, his being within close proximity to her father, ever, would no doubt earn him one with accompanying flames.
As such, Japan has been off-limits.
Perhaps a little extreme, but Jack has no desire to be on the receiving end of that much of her anger ever again. Plus, the location might lead to thoughts of the girl, which are not only always a downer from the fact of her vast disdain for him, but useless.
Like Vlad.
Fortunately, his inventions never failed to be a stalwart distraction from those thoughts, and the whole incident with her father's job offer flew by like the cold breeze of his new residence, forgotten the very next day.
The now-fifteen boy feels his lips tug upward in amusement at the thought of where he's based. He's sat upon a bean bag within his room, continuously bouncing a ball off of the black wall of his bedroom. A cozy, dark space with enough room to fit a couple pieces of furniture.
Jack snorts, thinking of the country's name: 'Iceland...'
He punches the ball harder the next time. It's sent directly toward one of his two last-remaining original Jack-Bots. The bot raises a hand, smacking the ball toward the other Jack-Bot across from it. They send it back and forth.
Jack's posture slouches, the teen sliding down and into the bean bag whilst his eyes keep on the ball. His arms raise above his head, Jack's legs extending outward as he performs a lengthy stretch.
'Still, no one would ever look here.'
The stretch ends with him falling back down into a lazy heap on the bean bag. Jack stares dully at the ceiling.
'Least of all Wuya.'
Prolonged time away from her can never hope to stop his nose's scrunching up at just her name. It remembers. Any set of nostrils – not to mention ears – would or could, Jack figures
His have never been better. It's like suddenly coming out of an extensive cold and remembering what it's like to not cough every second.
Just Wuya's absence alone makes neutral worthwhile. As well as every sinister laugh and cackle that had followed in each invention's completion. Sure, not all of them were new, but he loves them all the same.
Plus, he feels his evil laugh has improved. A toothy uplift adorns Jack's lips. He chuckles lowly.
The Heylin's entirety occurs to him next, thus once again packing, sealing, and shipping out the deal. Nevermind those four other loser factors.
Jack's hands go behind his head, the boy genius settling into a relaxing lay. A happy sigh of satisfaction leaves him, the redhead thinking, not for the first time, 'Totally worth it.'
But as is routine in the life of Jack Spicer, things never go as planned.
Not even five seconds into his smile's emergence comes a hard jerk of the entire room, tossing Jack straight out of his seat. Arms flailing in utter surprise, the boy genius' wide-eyed expression hits dead on with the mid-air ball. His flight is harshly interrupted by the wall, barely cushioned by the ball his head is indenting into.
Down Jack goes, his two Jack-Bots scurrying around the room in a panic as the ball squeaks along the wall, their metal arms swaying frantically. Face still cringed, Jack's meeting with the metal floor is a calm one, the ball rolling away from him.
Growling, he moves to get up. One foot goes flat on the floor before a horrible quaking starts, it going through his entire base, he freaking swears. He's immediately brought back to a lay on the ground, though this time bouncing around. His few items within the room topple over, a lamp breaking on the floor whilst his bed moves back and forth.
Managing to twist over, Jack looks to his bots. They're shaking in place, constantly re-aligning themselves. He eyes their thrusters blowing in varying directions below themselves, his agitation building all the while. The feeling gets almost nostalgic, and by that point, he's had his fill. All he can manage, though, is a vibrating sit on the moving floor, glaring hatefully at the equally active dark metal wall.
"The-err-r-re a-are r-r-rep-oo-rts," stutters out both of his accompanying Jack-Bots in dual monotone, Jack interrupting them with a shouting, "I can feel it!"
Subsequent to the final syllable, one final heavy jerk goes through the room, throwing him forward. He lands on his stomach into a partial slide on the suddenly calm floor.
'Yeah, this has to be them,' thinks Jack, eyes narrowing hatefully at the floor.
The Heylin.
Who else can cause freaking earthquakes in Iceland? No one even cares about Iceland, nevermind knows of its existence!
One of his Jack-Bots flies over to him, Jack lifting his head to regard it. Its chest-plate separates at the center, two sheets of metal pulling apart to reveal a large screen. It powers on, showing flickering footage that contains an annoying static to its audio.
Jack's expression sours with each destroyed or falling apart location that goes by as the bot cycles through different channels. He puts an elbow to the floor, palming his cheek. His other hand drums its fingers on the ground before himself.
Yeah, that's 1,000 years of darkness alright. He's seen it enough times to know the obvious tell-tale signs. Although this time is rather… extreme. Too many places are already in shambles. The unnatural disasters are too large, too fierce, and spreading at a newly-set record.
Jack groans out a whine, his shoulders slouching.
'Just my luck. A special occasion.'
Getting to his feet, the boy genius re-aligns the knocked askew goggles worn on his head. The trench coat clad teen walks over to the half-cylinder bronze-metal protuberance on one of the walls of his room. Jack stops before it, pressing the call button next to the elevator system. Waiting, he takes a narrow glance at his bots.
Their glowing red visors hold worry. Fearful knowledge displays easily as a result of both their emotion-chips and data-banks. They know what's up, too. All his history with the Wu and both parties that fought for them is theirs, too.
Looking back ahead, Jack sighs agitatedly. The elevator doors open, rounded metal sliding apart and into the wall. He walks within the cylindrical space.
A half-crescent railing raises from the floor on the back-end of it. On its top lies a square control panel bearing four numbered buttons. At the bottom of the column is a larger red button for the emergency stop. Jack presses the top-most one, crossing his arms as the doors slide shut. They do so with a low clank, his bronze confine starting its ascension.
Light shines through the slit of the bronze doors twice, illuminating the mildly dim space in brief flashes.
His blank stare is at the ready by the time the ceiling pulls apart, and he can feel the first droplets of freezing rain before the floor rises past the bronze walls and levels out on the surface. He's got his goggles lowered by the time it does so, grimacing before the gusts of wind smacking into him whilst his hair is drenched into a cold mess. His outfit is quickly soaked through, too. The teen grasps onto the railing to steady himself, glaring as he takes in the surroundings past the torrents of rain.
Trees that once bore snow-covered leaves are now rid of their white coating, blowing wildly at the whim of the harsh, cold winds. The ground is covered in a white mush of wet snow and frost. Pools of water are actually starting to form.
A boom of thunder nearly jolts him off his feet. His grip tightens around the railing. Shock ebbing, Jack's wide eyes slowly go back to their original narrowness, the glare returning. He flexes his chilled fingers, raising his gaze to the storming sky. It's nearly pitch black. Many flashes of lightning are going off in the distance, illuminating the darkened landscape.
Another loud thunder sounds. It's the last he cares to hear, as his entire body is trembling. It's with a shaking hand that the boy genius presses a button on the control panel, his teeth chattering all the while. His arms cross whilst the floor descends back into the ground. Past the ceiling he goes, it closing immediately after. Jack's hands grip tightly on his upper arms, jaw clenching.
'I bet it's one of those two,' thinks jack acidly. Out of all the Heylin, Chase and Wuya are the most likely to succeed in bringing 1,000 years of darkness. Especially to this degree.
'Or maybe both...?' considers Jack in freezing trepidation. Those two did seem to be getting along last he was around and still in the game. Disgusted fear arises from the notion. Though mostly fear.
It really doesn't matter which it is: Whether Chase or Wuya, successful take-over only means his doom is impending. And if it's the hag, it'll be sooner.
Now it's all fear.
He takes a shaky breath, the inhale deep. A matching exhale follows. Closing his eyes, he's able to push the fear down by focusing instead on how cold he is.
The elevator reaches his room, doors parting, and despite the situation's grave implications… and proceedings…
Jack stiffly stalks into the room, muttering contemptuously to his Jack-Bots, "Ah, j-just ign-n-nore it." Shivering steps take him past them and into the bathroom. After a toweling down and change of clothes, Jack re-emerges, skin still cold to the touch.
"This is their problem," announces Jack, heading towards his re-aligned bed.
It's the first time Jack's thought of any of them since Mr. T's last email. The change is not at all welcome.
Making it all the sweeter that this isn't his problem. After all, he's not Heylin and for sure no Xiaolin.
'Besides,' thinks Jack, pulling the covers down and laying in bed, 'I'm sure those losers will have things back to normal in no time.' How long did Wuya's last ruling go on for? Not even a day?
He pulls up the covers whilst scoffing mentally. They go over his head, Jack closing his eyes contentedly from inside the warm confines of the quilt. Jack falls asleep despite the slight jostling of the room.
He's woken up by… burning… thrusters…
Jack's eyes groggily pop open under the covers. For a moment, he lays there and stares at nothing, slowly blinking the tiredness away. His bot's ignition continues.
Sighing, Jack pulls the covers to reveal a Jack-Bot. Worried red optics return his squinting gaze. However, his eyes are drawn down by an illuminating light. The screen in its chest cavity shows a world still at its end. An unenthused look at the clock returned upon a nightstand's surface reveals two hours to have gone by.
Jack looks back to the screen. Footage of erupting volcanoes is displaying. Next up is a group of powerful tornadoes ravaging a different landscape. Then a tsunami approaching one sorry sap of a camera-man, that footage going to black static soon enough. He yawns, humming thoughtfully at the red sky shown in all of the scenes of destruction.
The next changing of the channel shows the dark red clouds bleeding across the sky, overtaking what's left of it and blotting out the sunlight. With darkness' expansion comes harsh rainfall and winds.
'Real special,' grouses Jack, groaning.
The Jack-Bot's look of worry is proving to be contagious, though, because despite the rising annoyance at the situation, there's an equal portion of worry escalating with it. He's been averse to thinking about it since this whole thing began, but is finding it hard to continue doing that.
Honestly, how long will it be before this comes to bite him in the rear? Wuya is already a known sooner-than-later; she pretty much promised him as much on the day of their final parting. Chase, however, doesn't strike Jack as one that would ever go out of his way to eliminate him, and, as such, he labels the warlord a likely when-he-gets-around-to-it.
He sighs, exasperation drawing the motion out.
Now he's never going to get to sleep.
"Alright, alright, I see your point," Jack concedes with a wry smile. Its thumbs up in return clinks lightly, Jack's lips pulling into a smirk.
"Wake me when everything's ready," Jack suddenly orders, the bot's eyes widening whilst he plops back down onto his bed, pulls the covers up to his head, and turns over. Faux snoring follows.
"Yes, sir," comes the bot's monotone agreement. Jack pictures the Jack-Bot saluting after saying such. His lips quirk upward during his false slumber. However, when the bot flies off to do his bidding, his snoring stops and a minor frown forms.
He'll be leaving soon. In fact, it's not even two minutes before that same Jack-Bot returns.
"Preparations are in place, sir," the Jack-Bot declares. Its robotic hand raises to its front, clutching.
He's both annoyed and impressed.
Sitting up, Jack throws the covers off himself. He gets out of bed and walks past the Jack-Bot, going into the at-the-ready elevator. He turns to press a button on the control panel, but the doors slam shut, surprising him. Though not as much as the elevator's sudden soaring toward his destination, Jack gripping onto the railing with both hands.
The elevator jerks to a stop. Its doors open. Loosening his death grip on the railing, Jack takes a relieved breath. He shakes bodily to rid himself of built tension in his muscles. After, Jack walks out of the elevator, entering a large hall with tall bronze-metal walls of brushed steel. The broad ground has his heli-bot's glaring emblem imprinted in its center, greatly sized up and surrounded by blackness.
Devious pride fills Jack at the sight of his slew of automatons' at-the-ready stances, each one with a single blaster raised and pointing at an angle toward the ceiling. In dead-center of the group is his Transformer-Bot currently in its bird-of-prey form. It's crouched, hatch open and ready to take him within.
Behind the vehicle are five Guard-Bots standing at an impressive (and hopefully threatening) twenty feet.
Humanoid in model, the bots are lanky metallic beasts that bear top-heavy, headless torsos, the max of their heights reached only by the sharp ends of pointed shoulders. Five pairs of angled bolt-like half-crescents serve as eyes and glow a dark red from where the large slashes are situated within broad, skull-esque bronze chest-plates. Below those plates, their design curves inward to form narrow, metal-gray mid-sections partially covered by teeth-like protrusions extending down from the chest armor and up from the groin. A thick set of lengthy bars connected side-by-side make up their upper arms, meeting at a cylindrical gray joint. On the other end is a prominent fore-arm that serves as its large plasma cannon; each Guard-Bot's left blaster bears a large spring-driven cylinder at its base, leading instead to a three-pronged hand. The Guard-Bot's legs are long bronze limbs that only bulge out further past their cylindrical joints that are covered by a gray knee-pad-shaped slab of metal.
To the rear of these monstrous constructs are the second revision Jack-Bots. Gone are the heads of the previous design, their faces now sunken down to rest on the chest cavity; a small dome rests where the head used to lie. Large, bowl-like sheets of metal extend from the sides of their broader torsos, their pinnacle higher than the shoulders. From those hollow depths extends thick rods with a rolling cylinder serving as the arms' elbows. Their left arms end with a medium plasma blaster that's harder hitting than the previous model's, but also comes with a slower rate of fire. On the right is a bulky half-sphere with four thin, multi-jointed fingers; between the digits lies a circular indentation that remains closed until usage, thus ensuring the prevention of napalm spillage. At their bottom extends a somewhat heftier thruster to counter the heavier weight.
The second revisions are larger on every axis due to their slew of enhancements. Though much of their added mass comes from heavier weaponry and armor.
Twenty of them align in two rows behind the Guard-Bots.
It's a sight for sore ex-evil eyes. Jack stops in front of his automatons, his dark gaze running over the group. For a moment, his eyes meet with the matching expression of Robo-Jack's, his robotic clone reclining against the heel of a Guard-Bot. However, Jack's head tilts, his smirk retreating into a thoughtful line. Brows drawing together, his eyes narrow in suspicion before the steadfast nature of everything.
His mouth opens to speak, but the level suddenly begins to ascend, Jack's eyes widening in surprise.
"Hey," sputters Jack, running to his bird-like vehicle, "just what were my orders for this?" It's a half-hearted demand. After a few quick steps, Jack activates his heli-pack, going airborne and greatly speeding his pace.
"Swift annihilation, baby!" roar the assembled bots. They all raise their already risen blasters higher, each clutching a hand at their side.
Their declaration is so properly evil that Jack can feel a wetness of pride forming in his eyes. In fact, there's nearly cause to wipe at one of them as he hurriedly seats himself within his prepared robotic vehicle. His Transformer-Bot closes the hatch whilst he settles in, standing up. The bird-like vehicle adopts a wider stance, talons clanking on the floor.
A resounding metallic boom sounds from the ceiling. It splits apart at the middle, grinding and moving gears accompanying the dim light bleeding down onto them. Soon enough, the ceiling has completely moved aside, allowing their continuous ascension to reach ground level.
The weather is far calmer. Drizzling rainfall lands on the hatch of Jack's vehicle from a gray-clouded sky rather than a near-black one. However, there's a red hue approaching from the distant horizon of their travel location.
A thick, wide sheet of metal on the back of every Guard-Bot pivots outward to create an opening. From the dark compartments emits a sudden roar of flames that shakes the ground. Sole-based rockets ignite as well, their charring flames bleeding from under the monstrous bots' two-pronged feet. Whilst they go airborne, the revision two Jack-Bots rev up their thrusters as well. Beside Jack's vehicle, Robo-Jack hovers in wait with crossed arms, sole-based rockets keeping him afloat.
The Transformer-Bot starts to hover, its own systems coming alive. Pulling its feet up, the talons come to rest near the underside. Then, it shoots off for the sky, Robo-Jack following to the side whilst the rest move into formation. Two Guard-Bots take to the side Robo-Jack is on whilst the remaining three go the left. The Jack-Bots form two rows of ten behind them.
As the group makes their way to a certain temple, Jack decides it's as good a time to actually have that sleep. He kicks his legs up onto the cockpit's dashboard, reclining his seat. He pulls his goggles down over his eyes, hands then going behind the teen's head.
Muffled burning ignitions lull him into a comfortable slumber.