A/N: Important mentions: Much adoration to Freaku, for her frequent and insightful reviewing. Thank you for the motivation! Also, buckets of glee for TheZombieMinion, who has promised to draw me some fan art. No one has ever drawn me fan art before, so I'm very excited.
8
Chase had spent almost the entire morning watching Jack in his spy orb, growing increasingly frustrated as he did so. The female had yet to make an appearance; he had hoped she would be with Jack, so he could observe his enemy. But Jack's day had been dedicated to preparing for a garden party held by one of his mother's acquaintances.
He had spent most of it at the hands of a man named Bobby, whose entire job seemed to consist of picking out clothes. It amused Chase to no end to realize that there were people who needed someone else to choose their garments for them, and enough of them that the man could make a living at it. However, he quickly grew bored and a little irritated, watching Jack get primped and preened by the too-enthusiastic blond man. He soon dismissed the vision, sending the orb back into the floor.
Chase was rather relieved that Jack seemed to have gone to the man only at his mother's request; choosing your attire was hardly a difficult task. Of course, Chase had it easier than most; he wore the same armor day in and day out, as he had for several hundred years.
An evil thought bloomed in his mind, emerging from his brain like a wicked flower. Jack had, albeit unwittingly, made Chase very happy by adopting his new and more revealing apparel.
Perhaps he should return the favor.
8
It was one in the morning, and Jack lay awake in the still darkness of his bedroom, turning the day's events over in his mind. The sudden acquisition of two friends buoyed his spirits like helium in a balloon, an unusual sensation for the lonely boy genius.
Everything was in readiness for Cassandra's visit tomorrow. Not wanting to seem like the lazy slug-a-bed he really was, he'd told her to come at eleven, which meant preparing tonight. His workshop, already tidy, was now spotlessly clean. His room, normally comparable to a post-tornado trailer park, was also clean, just in case.
Just in case of what, he wasn't sure.
He only knew that this was the first time in many long years that he'd had a friend over. The only people who came to see him anymore were villains and monks. The Xiaolin came to kick his butt; his evil partners came and went as they joined and betrayed him; Wuya came whenever Chase kicked her out.
Chase.
He realized with a start that he hadn't thought of Chase all night, not since he'd started talking to Cassandra. The realization made him both pleased and oddly guilty; it felt almost disloyal to forget about the man. But that was stupid, wasn't it? He didn't owe Chase anything, and hadn't Bobby said he should find a distraction? Still uneasy but determined to ignore it, Jack tucked the covers snugly in around himself and closed his eyes.
Who needed grumpy old Chase anyway?
8
The next morning dawned bright and early, as mornings all too often do.
Chase Young rose with the sun, beginning his day with a series of stretches taken from all the disciplines he'd mastered over the years and blended into one perfect routine. He contemplated his course of action as he warmed up, anticipating the wonderful day ahead.
He would give Jack until noon.
Cassandra Allen woke to the beeping of her alarm clock, cursing groggily as she daintily slammed the snooze button. Normally she would never be up this early, but apparently Jack was some kind of morning person. She would cure him of that quickly enough, but today was all about being cheerfully agreeable. And if she wanted to be beautiful in due time, she needed to start with a shower now.
Damn Spicer; who the hell invited someone over at eleven am?
Jack Spicer, in a tradition known and revered all over the world, woke up promptly at sunrise and briefly considered closing his curtains. Then he rolled over, pulled the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.
Another five minutes wouldn't hurt; he had until eleven.
8
Cassandra gazed with satisfaction at the Spicer home as her car drew slowly up the long driveway. An elegant mansion topped by sweeping hipped roofs in the Chinese style, it set incongruously on a lush English lawn surrounded by a low stone wall. The effect was lovely, and Cassandra sighed, happy in the knowledge that it would one day belong to her.
But first, she had work to do.
A robot hovered in the driveway, burnished body glinting in the sun. It opened the door for her as the car rolled to a stop, metal claw scraping unpleasantly against the handle.
"Master Jack is in his lab," it informed her as she stepped from the car. "I will take you there."
Cassandra was not pleased. Jack should have been waiting himself. Sending one of his toys was just . . . insulting.
She didn't bother to hide her irritation as she walked up the steps to the front door, boots tapping loudly on the stone. She had dressed with purpose today; her deep green jacket hid a silky black camisole that plunged dramatically at the neckline, exposing quite a lot of smooth golden skin. Dark, tight jeans and spike-heeled black boots completed the look. It was the closest thing to a goth outfit her wardrobe could muster, and she hadn't had time to shop for another, even assuming she would stoop to wearing outcast fashion.
Cassandra's mood improved as she followed the robot through the long hallways of the Spicer home, drinking in the tasteful décor. It was every bit as lovely inside s it was out, and her sense of proud potential ownership grew with every step.
She couldn't wait to be the lady of this manor.
She was decidedly less impressed when the robot led her down a flight of rickety stairs into the basement. Twisted pipes of all sizes snaked around the edges of the room, and multi-drawered toolboxes were distributed randomly across the floor. On a table in the middles of the room lay a disemboweled robot, metal gears and multi-colored wires protruding from its dismantled lower half. Across the table stood Jack, hunched over the injured machine, deftly twisting a tiny wire around a slim metal stick with a rubber grip. A pair of amber goggles covered his eyes, and she wondered why until a bright spark of electricity flared between stick and wire. The robot's eyes flashed red, then blanked again as the spark died away.
The whole thing resembled the laboratory of a mad scientist in a B movie, and it was creeping Cassandra out.
She cleared her throat loudly and Jack jumped, nearly sticking himself with the small bit of metal. He looked up at her, red eyes tinted oddly by amber glass, and she gave a little wave and a smile.
"Cassandra! You're here!"
Her eyes widened as he hastily straightened up and emerged from behind the table, pushing the goggles up onto his head as he did so. He noticed her expression and grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry I wasn't at the door. One of the Jackbots had a major malfunction, and I got a little caught up. Umm . . . I hope you're not mad at me?"
His voice tilted higher at the end, making the statement a question.
"No, of course not," she reassured him with a smile. "I completely understand. You just look different when you're at home, that's all. I like it."
To her complete surprise, she actually meant it.
Last night Jack had been cute in his tuxedo, a shy slip of a boy trying and failing to blend in with the social elite. Now, moving through the twilight of his basement lab, Jack was in his element. Tight black pants clung to his lean hips in a way that would make a less disciplined woman pant, and the black mesh sleeves of his dark red shirt formed an enticing pattern of ebony lines over his pale skin. Even the makeup underlining his eyes, repellent though she usually found it on a man, looked incredibly sexy.
In short, the boy was hot.
8
Jack smiled obliviously under Cassandra's gaze, unaware of the lustful turn her thoughts had taken.
She glanced away suddenly, looking curiously at the Jackbot on the table.
"So what happened to your robot?"
"Oh, nothing big. Just a minor wiring problem."
Thank god, he added mentally. He'd gotten out of bed just in time to have the newly- upgraded bot glitch, and he'd been working frantically all morning to identify the problem. Luckily, the defect seemed to be coincidental, instead of another flaw in his new design. He'd been on the verge of repairing the faulty wire responsible when Cassandra walked in.
"Oh. That's good." She looked around inquisitively. "Where are the rest of them?"
Jack felt a little flutter of nervousness in his stomach. His Jackbots had been mocked almost as much as he had; he was more than a little defensive on their behalf. But Cassandra was really nice, and there was no way their newest function could fail to impress, even despite the little annoyance that was inherent in the design. Steeling himself, he shouted a command.
"Jackbots, assemble!"
A horde of robots entered the room, buzzing loudly as they flew. The noise quickly became deafening in the echoing basement, and Jack winced. He'd been worried about how the unfortunate droning would sound in enclosed spaces, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad.
"A bit loud, aren't they?" Cassandra shouted, fingers stuffed in her ears to shut out the irritating sound.
"Only for a while," Jack shouted back. "It's the plasma cannons. They're usually silent, but the new machinery is heavy, they're having trouble compensating."
"The what?"
"Hang on. All but you, dismissed!"
Just as quickly, the robots flew right back out. The annoying noise quickly receded, until only a faint buzz remained, courtesy of the Jackbot instructed to stay.
"Sorry about that," he told Cassandra, who still looked a little rattled. "That's the first time I've had them all in one room since the upgrade. I didn't think it would be that loud. The lifters are having trouble holding them up, because the converters are so heavy. But I can work on that later. What's really important is the cannons."
He jumped into an enthusiastic explanation, delighted all over again at making something previously considered impossible outside science fiction.
8
Cassandra fought the urge to yawn as Jack rambled on about his revolutionary breakthrough and its practical applications. Sexy or not, he was annoying her. That god-awful buzzing had almost split her head in two, and it had definitely soured her mood. Think of the money, she told herself. Think of shoe-shopping in Paris, or spa treatments in Jamaica.
Making sure her expression was appropriately interested and admiring, she drifted into a daydream of lounging on a beach in the Maldives, letting Jack's voice blend with the imaginary sound of ocean waves. Occasional phrases reached her, but she did her best to ignore them.
"It took forever to make it self-sustaining, and it kept just dissipating after a few feet at first . . . had to paint the tubes black or the plasma lit the Jackbots up like neon signs . . . kept overheating, but I fixed it."
The tropical sun was warm on her skin, and her bathing suit fit like a well-tailored glove. Beautiful boys ogled her as they passed, and the soft wind played with her silky hair as waves washed in and out.
"Still a little unstable, but they haven't exploded in days . . . plasma torches, everybody has those, but actual readily portable guns. . ."
Was he talking about weapons? He'd said something about plasma cannons, hadn't he? What kind of rich kid made robots with weapons? Maybe it was for some military; he might be contributing to the family fortune already. She should really pay more attention . . . but she just couldn't be bothered.
Cassandra sank back into her fantasy, this time mixing in a cold margarita and a hot masseuse. By conventional standards she was too young for either, but that had never stopped her before. She was just about to sip the tangy, salt-rimmed concoction when a hand on her arm brought her back to the real world. Jack was peering at her worriedly, face full of concern.
"Are you okay? You went a little glassy-eyed on me. Am I getting boring?"
Crap. She was busted, unless she could think of adequate cover. She could pretend to be suddenly taken ill; it would get her out of there at least. But that wouldn't serve her plan of getting closer to Jack.
Then it hit her: When all else fails, use sex appeal.
It was a bit sooner than she'd planned, but he was rather pretty, and it couldn't hurt to give him a little taste. It would, at the very least, get him to stop talking.
"It's just a little warm in here, that's all. Is there anywhere I can hang my jacket?"
8
Jack gave an inward sigh of relief. She'd looked really out of it there for a second.
"Of course, we'll just put it. . ." he trailed off as she undid the buttons and slipped the garment off, revealing the tiny black shirt beneath it. Some part of his mind quickly protested that it was unimpressed; and wasn't he supposed to be gay anyway? But it was easily shoved aside by the large percentage of his brain suddenly devoted to admiring the perfect cleavage before him.
"Put it . . .?"
Cassandra's voice was amused as she invited him to finish his sentence, and Jack hastily returned his gaze to her face.
"Umm . . . I'll just lay it on the toolbox over there, if that's alright?"
"That's fine. Thanks Jack."
She beamed at him, eyes sparkling merrily beneath long lashes, as he took her coat and carried it carefully over to the toolbox. Shaking himself mentally, he ordered himself to keep his mind- and his eyes- off her breasts. Turning back around, he locked his gaze on her face.
"We can go outside and blast something in the garden if you want to. It's cooler out there, and I can't really fire the cannons in here anyway."
"Actually Jack . . ." Those green eyes bored into him, holding him in place as she moved closer. She stopped a hairsbreadth away, face almost touching his. "I have a better idea."
"Wha-"
Her mouth was gentle against his, a soft fluttering of butterfly lips. Jack was too shocked to respond to the unexpected action, and he stood frozen as she kissed him long and sweetly. He had the vague notion that he should push her away; Cassandra had only met him last night, and she really shouldn't be kissing him. But when he thought about it, that seemed silly. He was enjoying being kissed, so why shouldn't she if she wanted to?
She wasn't Chase, but she was a nice, beautiful girl who obviously adored him. What more could he ask for?
Cassandra wrapped her arms around him as she deepened the kiss, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. A flicker of heat went through him as those ample breasts pressed against his chest, and it intensified when she pulled him closer, molding her body to his own.
Suddenly they were no longer just kissing, they were making out, and Jack was determined to enjoy the experience for all it was worth. He kissed her back fiercely, the instincts of desire taking over as he sought to control the kiss. His arms went around her, hands sliding down her back as she surrendered dominance to him. His recently unleashed hormones were going into overdrive, demanding that he lick, bite, touch, and Jack didn't intend to disappoint them. Cassandra writhed in his arms as his hands moved to her hips, and he fought back a groan as she rubbed against his groin.
Of course, it was at exactly that moment a polite cough issued from behind them.
8
By sheer strength of magic, Chase forged a connection between his spy orb and the giant television screen in Jack's basement. Neither device appreciated his efforts; the orb was a thing of great magic, and thus loathed joining with its electrical counterpart. He gave it no choice, forcing the connection into existence with pure power. It was a distasteful method to someone so well-versed in subtlety, but it was necessary.
Chase had absolutely no idea how to manipulate modern technology, and he had no intention of letting anyone else learn that.
Wuya was as clueless as he was, and would likely be unable to use the knowledge against him, but the monks would certainly seek to make life difficult if they realized how limited his grasp of mechanical things really was. And one never really knew about Hannibal Bean; the annoying nugget often knew far more than he should. Actions such as commandeering Jack's television from time to time were a small price to pay for keeping his foes uninformed.
The final bit of magic fell into place, and the surface of the orb shimmered and blurred as a picture formed within. Chase waited impatiently for it to sharpen, a charming smile spread across his face.
The smile became a snarl as he viewed exactly what was happening in Jack's lab.
His Jack was entwined with a dark-haired female, and though both were fully clothed, they seemed unlikely to be that way for long. Smothering his jealousy and rage, Chase dragged the smile back onto his face. This time his teeth were a trifle more prominent, his look just a little more predatory, and his eyes just a bit colder.
He coughed once, politely.
Jack spun around, releasing the girl in his haste, and she caught herself against the table with an indignant expression Chase found highly amusing. Jack was flushed and breathing hard, tight pants doing nothing to hide his arousal, and the sight filled him with anger and lust in equal measure.
"I hope I'm not interrupting?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"No! I mean, well, I dunno . . . um, sort of."
Jack's cheeks were cherry red by the time he ended his statement, and Chase's eyebrow rose even higher.
"I see. I had been hoping you would join me for some training today. It has been quite some time since you visited my home. But if you're busy . . ."
"He is, obviously."
The female had regained her poise quickly; she glared up at the screen, wrapping one slender arm possessively around Jack.
Chase smiled viciously as he sized her up. She was pretty enough, but no match for his immortal beauty. "I would hate to intrude," he lied smoothly, mentally promising a slow death as he glared back at her. She didn't blink, and they stared at each other for a long moment before his disconcerting bronze eyes forced her to look away. Then his gaze shifted to Jack, who still stood silent.
"What about tomorrow? Will your busy schedule be open by then?"
8
Jack was transfixed by an unsettling mixture of shock and embarrassment. His longtime idol had just caught him making out with his brand new . . . whatever she was. He had a feeling "friend" didn't quite cover it anymore. And not only was said idol not mocking him -well, not mocking him much- but Chase had actually invited him over for training! He had been begging Chase to train him for years with no results. Now, out of the blue, he had decided to grant Jack's wish.
Forcing himself to refrain from an unmanly squee, Jack managed a fairly calm-sounding "Tomorrow is great."
"Very well. I look forward to seeing you." Chase's grin widened evilly."And Jack? See that you get at least a little rest tonight; you'll need your energy tomorrow."
And with that, the screen went blank.
8
Cassandra didn't know who the gorgeous man had been, but she recognized competition when she saw it. She sat daintily on the lab table, intending to strike an enticing pose and lure Jack back into their previous activity.
Instead, she sat directly down on the little metal stick Jack had been using to repair his malfunctioning bot. Luckily, Jack was in the habit of always turning off potentially dangerous electrical devices after he finished a project. Unluckily for Cassandra, he hadn't been quite finished when she came in.
She squealed in distress as several hundred volts of electricity shot through her body, frizzing her hair and scorching a hole in her jeans as it sought a path to ground. That high a concentration isn't necessarily fatal, as Cassandra quickly found out, but it does result in a certain amount of pain- and occasional loss of bladder control as stricken muscles spasm and release.
Acting sexy quickly ceased to be an option.