Daolon Wong glared at the merry glow of the Chan family's window, following the movements of their shadows behind their curtains with eyes gone cloudy with age. Once upon a time, he would have done more than glare; with his dark chi warriors at his beck and call, with his mastery of every dark chi spell known to man, he would gladly have charged the fortress of his greatest foes! Their petty defenses would have crumbled beneath his magics, as his servants broke the walls down around them!
It would have been a glorious slaughter, a mighty sacrifice to the dark powers he served!
Or so he told himself. Deep in his heart of hearts, he could not help but fear that the battle would end the same way all the others had; with him, defeated, and fleeing in fear from the Chan clan. And now, he was too weak, too vulnerable, too *old* to even make the attempt.
With no magics of his own, the Deja Vu stone had left him trapped firmly in the past, even after escaping his former minions (and hadn't that burned, having to sneak and beg the people who had once been his servants). Time and time again, he had tried to reverse his enfeeblement, but on the rare occasions when he had not been foiled, he had been turned away.
Nobody, it seemed, had any respect for Daolon Wong, former master of darkness. And so, in the end, he had returned to his true time via the only method left to him, waiting. And, in the end, it seemed that it would be the waiting that finally killed him.
He had been an old, old man for a long time, and without his dark enchantments to sustain him, his years had finally caught up with him; having the endure the ravages of time while searching hither and thither had not helped things. Now he could feel the reaper breathing down his back with every step he took, and as he clenched his fists in rage he felt their feeble shaking. His green eye had gone cloudy with age, burying the world in a milky haze, and the white eye that gleamed beneath his jagged scar had long succumbed to true blindness. Even his hair was going, and he had not realized how attached he was to his ivory mane until the first strands were falling out…
And he new exactly who to blame.
The Chans were responsible for misery, every single bit of it, and as he glared at their merrily glowing window he swore his inevitable vengeance in every tongue he knew, even the ones that scorched his tongue and tore his throat. "Soon," he whispered with his ravaged voice, even as he turned away.
He was, after all, far too weak to harm even the weakest of the Chans. But if he could not have his vengeance in this life-
-he would simply have to find it in the next.
—
"I'm sure you're wondering how this is supposed to work," Daolon Wong said as he placed the last stick of incense into its holder, and wafted the smoke up to his nose. "After all, with my current disenchantment, I possess no more magic than any other man. Fortunately," he continued as he circled the room, his good eye scanning the flickering candles that lined the room one last time, "there are rituals old enough to have power all their own, and I know all of them. Now, shall we begin?"
The burly, brutish man beneath him struggled against his bonds, moaning through his gag with his eyes rolling wildly in fear. It had pained Daolon Wong to prey upon his fellow servants of darkness, but he could not risk interference; attempting to sacrifice an innocent would no doubt have brought their attention, but a missing criminal would pass unnoticed.
Besides, the man had possessed the temerity to *assault* Daolon Wong, a mistake he would not have the chance to repeat.
One way, or another.
The former dark chi sorcerer took a deep breath to quell the trickle of fear in his breast. There was no point in being nervous, not here and certainly not now. His preparations were all complete, the ritual outlined with flawless accuracy; it had taken him weeks to craft the sprawling chalk design that filled the warehouse from wall to wall, all centered around the massive and ancient altar that he had stolen from an ungrateful student. Finding the ingredients had taken even longer, and the results of his efforts burned merrily at the [six points of samsara], or bubbled darkly in the cauldron at the foot of the altar.
It was all ready, every piece, every step, was all complete… except the last one. If he had made a single mistake, even the tiniest error, then he would be doomed, dead before he even realized the ritual had gone wrong. And even if he got it all right, he would still…
"Bah!" he spat as he forced his thoughts to turn away. He was already dying, after all. Probably less than a decade left, if that. Better to spend it here and now, in exchange for even the slimmest chance, rather than waiting and withering while his enemy walked free.
Better to take the leap, and trust that even now, he was still the master of his craft.
"Do not worry," he croaked as he circled his victim, smiling at the man's muffled screams. "I am told that the next part is entirely painless." A silver chalice gleamed quietly atop the altar, and Daolon Wong scooped it up with one withered hand on his way past, before bending down with a groan to reach under the altar. When he rose up again, he had a dull and blackened dagger clenched in his shaking fist. It was an evil looking blade, blacked by smoke and flame from tip to hilt, it's handle carved into an intricate design that might, at the right angle, have looked like a field of screaming faces.
The man's struggles increased immensely when he saw the blade, his muffled shouts near continuous as he eyed the slowly approaching weapon. He only stilled when Daolon Wong had lightly placed the dagger against his throat, his entire body gone stiff with fear. He was only slightly relieved when the dark wizard pulled it away again, lightly laying the dagger on his chest before walking over to the cauldron.
"Ah, ah, ah!" Dolor admonished when the man began to thrash again, threatening to send the dagger clattering away. "I would not, if I were you. Should the 'Athame of Pompei' fall from your flesh, you will not appreciate the consequences." The man froze again, and Daolon Wong chucked darkly as he dipped the silver chalice into the bubbling cauldron.
"Very good," he said as he carried the chalice over, both hands wrapped tightly around the stem as his trembling fingers threatened to send the contents spilling away. He barely dared to breath as he came to a halt beside the altar. "Do not move," he commanded as he raised the chalice high. "Stay still until I am finished, and you may very well survive."
Then he pulled the chalice to his mouth, and began to drink.
The dark, bubbling liquid was the foulest thing he had ever tasted, and he felt it burning his flesh as he gulped it down, painting a line of fire all the way down to his stomach. He wanted to shout, to vomit, but he dared do nothing except keep drinking. He needed to finish it all, every single drop, if he wanted this to work. No matter what, he had to-
He had to-
He-
He shuddered violently, the silver cup falling from his nerveless fingers. He clutched at his throat, gasping wetly as he clawed desperately for air, collapsing to his knees when his final breath failed to come.
The world, the world was… it was going dark, it was all going dark, and Daolon Wong felt a thrill of fear as he realized what was happening.
He was dying.
Centuries of cruelty, malice, and dark magic was finally reaching its end, and as he fell to his side he could not help his despair. He still had so much to do, so much to accomplish! The conquest of the world for the sake of darkness, the discovery of all the worlds secrets, his vengeance against the Chans! He couldn't die! Not here, not now!
He couldn't-!
He could-
The world went dark as he felt his heart at last begin to stop, and then Daolon Wong died as he had lived: alone, and in darkness.
—-
Joseph Jones waited with clenched teeth, barely daring to breath as he strained his ears. He had heard the old man gasp, seen his shadow fall, but at the same time he barely believed that the crazy old kook was dead.
That old man was freaking scary, you know? He'd pounced on him in the middle of the night, figuring that a crazy geezer in a bathrobe wouldn't be much fight, you know? Boy had he been proven wrong, though; man might've been old, but he kept a heckuva lot of knives around, and he knew lotsa tricks too. By the time Joseph had stopped lookin' for the distractions, he'd already had a knife at his throat.
But now it looked the crazy old fart had bit the big one, cause he weren't even twitching now, which meant that it was time to go home and rethink his life. All he had to do was break one of these stupid little ropes and wriggle free…
So focused was Joseph Jones on his struggling, that he barely noticed the sensation of the knife sliding down across his big barely chest, sent tumbling away by his heaves… until a set of slender, bony fingers wrapped themselves around the handle.
"Naughty, naughty," whispered a familiar voice, in a tone as cold as ice. "I told you not to let the knife fall."
Joseph choked in shock, his eyes rolling wildly as he froze in place. Nothing in the corners, nothing at the walls, nothing and nobody standing nearby-! In the entire warehouse, there was only him, the table-
And the dagger floating above his chest.
He stopped breathing, his wide, wide eyes staring in fear and shock at the evil-looking blade as it floated above his chest, swaying gently in an unseen grip. "Wh-what's happening?" he gasped as he strained away as far as the ropes would let him, his eyes fixed firmly on the dagger. "Wh-who's there?!"
"Ahhh… that's right. I suppose that I have yet to introduce myself," said the old man's voice. It was different, now, familiar but subtly changed by a distant echo that followed his words, as though he spoke from within a deep well.
"Once more," the old man said, and Joseph felt his heart stop when he saw the faint outline of fingers begin to appear around the dagger's hilt. "And now for all time." They image grew quickly, expanding up into a hand, before streaking up a skinny, nobbly arm that was quickly cloaked in a misty-looking sleeve. "I am Daolon Wong!" The sleeve grew into a robe like rain clouds at midnight, rising into a high collar that framed a familiar face, painted into the pale blue visage of a corpse. "Master of Darkness!" The old man's eyes glittered with malice, one pale as bone, while the other gleamed like emerald and jade, and his cruel grin was made of blades and spears.
"And not even death will stay my vengeance."
The dagger fell, and Joseph Jones knew no more.
—
And far, far, away in a massive clock that looked like a tower, an elderly spirit with a long white beard and a scar across one eye watched the sacrifice in utter stillness, both hands wrapped around a long staff. In time the scene came to an end, and the only thing left was two slowly cooling corpses in an empty warehouse, and he waved closed the window into future's gone past as he turned away. His sigh was lost to the ticking of hundreds, thousands of clocks, as he drifted up to a lonely shelf high above the ground. The device which stood there bore some resemblance to a thermos, done up in metal and circuitry, and on one side a glowing display blinked two words over and over.
Power low.
Power low.
Power low.
Clockwork took a deep breath as he reached up to pull the thermos from it's perch, and drifted over to an empty window. "Everything," he said as he drifted outside, and into the emptiness that surrounded his tower, "is at it should be."
And then he closed his eyes, and tossed the thermos away.
"Jackie, I'm bored!"
"i'm sorry to hear that Jade, but I'm busy right now. Maybe you could do your homework?"
"Jackie, it's summer vacation! I don't have any homework!"
"A summer project, then? I know you have a few of those."
"Not anymore, I don't. I finished those ages ago!"
He pulled his reading glasses off to stare at his niece, who was slumped over the back of the sofa behind his chair. "You finished your work…early?"
She pulled her face up from the cushion it was planted in to shoot him a scornful look. "Well, duh! I didn't want you to brush me off with 'Go do your homework, Jade' again." Her imitation of his voice was eerily perfect, thanks to several lessons from Wing 'Bettlebrows' Lesku, who had visited the shop a few months back; his niece had taken every opportunity since then to startle, mock, or tease him with her newest talent. She let her face flop back onto the couch with a groan. "I didn't know it'd be snores-ville central all summer, though! Lame!"
"Well, what did you expect Jade," he retorted with a chuckle, turning back to his appraisal books. "With the demons sealed, and the talismans gone, the only evil around is Daolong Wong, and he's still stuck in jail."
"As far as we know," Jade said, raising a hand in protest, though her voice was still muffled by the pillow. "And what about all the other weirdo's we run into? Maybe they're up to something? Oh! We should totally go check up on them!" she continued, shoving herself up so fast that he heard her tumble onto her back.
"We?" He shot her a look as she scrambled back to her feet, hastily readjusting her favorite hoody. "Captain Black has those criminals well in hand already. He might not know how to handle magic, but they weren't demons or sorcerers, just bad people who found things that they shouldn't. They won't be a problem."
"Jackie!" she whined. "At this rate, we'll never get the J-team back together again!"
"Then maybe it's time for the J-team to…retire," he said with a sigh. It was odd, really; he had never, ever, stopped telling people that his real job was being an archeologist, but the chance that his adventures could be over, forever, was oddly…disquieting. 'It just went to show' he mused to himself as he shut his book, 'what a man could get used to.' "After all, if all the evil is sealed away-"
"Do not be foolish!" Uncle shouted, leaning in from behind the doorway with a sharp glare behind his spectacles. "There is always evil in the world, Jackie! Yin and yang, always struggling for balance! With so much dark chi sealed away, who knows what might erupt to disturb this fragile peace!" He straightened out of sight, before leaning back and saying, "One more thing, Captain Black left a message! Section Thirteen's new base will be ready in a few days, and he already has an apartment ready!"
"That is good news!" Jackie said. "But I'm sure we won't need to actually stay…" he trailed off at Uncle's look, then sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "I'll start packing," he said instead.
"One more thing! Jade, some mail came for you! A silly little paper book of some kind."
"What?" The elderly Chi-wizard waved the package in his wrinkled hand, and she straightened in delight. "My magazine! Thanks Uncle!" she said, bounding over to snatch it from his grasp.
"You have a magazine?" Jackie said, walking over to peer over her shoulder. He wrinkled his nose when he saw the cover, which featured a translucent figure covered in bloody wounds, half-emerged from a brick wall.
"Ordered it on online. After all the weird stuff we've seen, I thought I'd brush up on my magic trivia, so I looked up the best paranormal magazine in the country. This ones about ghosts," she said, tapping the cover right on top of grey-scale skull-face. "Wanna borrow it? Way I figure it, it's only a matter of time before we run into one."
"Aiyeah!" Uncle cried. "This flimsy book wouldn't know the difference between a spook and a specter! 'Ectoplasm Explained' my foot," he continued, reading the words off the cover with a sneer. "if you want to learn about ghosts, you just come with Uncle and he'll tell you aaaaall about it." He stomped out of the room, dragging his niece in his wake despite her vocal protests.
Jackie watched them go with a faint frown, before he dismissed his concerns with a shake of his head; a flash of color from the corner of his eye made him look down, and he caught sight of Jade's magazine, which lay where she had dropped it. He scooped it up in his hand, letting his eyes run over captions like 'The Secrets of Ectoplasm', and 'Nine Ways to tell You're Being Haunted'. He snorted. "This is crazy, Jackie, you're crazy…" But when he left the room to go chase after Uncle and Jade, he took the magazine with him to read later…just in case.
—
The blast caught the beast in its armored belly, sending it shrieking into a nearby island. The empty stone shattered beneath the creatures weight, and it was sent tumbling away in a shower of splintered rock.
Daolon Wong shot a sneer at the beast, before cocking his head at the sound of wings. "Begon, pest!" he spat as he spun to face it, his shadow staff spraying a fan of bolts to fill the air with fire. The massive, black furred bat spun away, but it was too large to dodge them all, and Daolon Wong grimaced at the smell of scorched fur. He put his enemy out of his misery with another, larger blast across its ridged back; the subsequent explosion left only a hollow, scorched wreck in its wake, and he nodded in satisfaction as the remnants quickly sank out of sight.
It was a short lived feeling, though, once which faded as he turned his bi-coloured eyes on the empty, drifting mists that surrounded him, stretching off as far as the eye could see.
Finding his way to this bizarre realm had been no problem at all for the Master of Darkness, but navigating it was proving far more challenging. There was no true directions here, no north or south, or even up and down; no horizon to hunt for, no sun or stars to follow. Only the endless, empty green, dotted with floating specks of rock that drifted pointlessly through the aether.
The inhabitants were not much more use; he had found more than a few, but most simply fled his presence as soon as they saw him, moving at speeds he had yet to match. The few who stayed had proven to be mere beasts of one sort or another, annoying pests who persisted in getting in his way at every opportunity.
If he did not find something useful, and soon, he might as well go back to the earthly realm. Surely, his search there could not possibly prove as frustrating as this blasted, blighted Ghost Zone!
Then he heard the clang of metal on stone, and turned to see a curious shape spiraling away in the distance, where it had bounced off of a floating stone.
—
Daolon Wong studied the ridiculous looking thermos, floating around the rock where he had placed it. It was a blatantly bizarre creation, but of a sort he would normally never had bothered with; what use was strange technology to he, the master of all things arcane?
Why then, had he not already tossed this strange device to the unearthly currents that filled this place, and gone to find a more fulfilling mystery?
The scream came without warning, a feral sound of rage and hatred as the thermos began to dance in place, crashing against every rock and stone within reach as something inside struggled for freedom. He could hear the creaking of metal under strain, the scream of shattering circuits, the crunch of the high tech prison as it bowed outward under furious blows.
And all the while, that same endless roar filled the air and rocked the stone, strong enough to ruffle his robes from ten feet away. It was the sound of fury held back, hatred imprisoned, cruelty and malice and unsatisfied hunger.
It was the wrathful cry of the blackest of hearts, and it was exactly what he needed.
He waited until the curious prison was silent and still again, as the prisoner ceased its struggles, before he leaned in as closely as he dared. "Can you hear me, spirit?!" he called.
The thermos twitched, almost toppling over from it's precarious perch, and the dark chi master swore he could feel eyes glaring at him through the steel walls. Their voice was faint and weak, as though they were shouting from far away, but it was easy to hear the quiet menace in their words. "What exactly would you have done if I had said no?"
Daolon Wong bit back a sneer at the subtle mockery. "I am Daolon Wong, Master of Darkness, and the most powerful Dark Chi wizard the world has ever seen!"
"That's certainly a lot of very impressive titles," the spirit drawled, its prison wobbling slowly on its edge. "I might almost be worried, if they didn't all belong to a weak old man with a stick."
"Bah!" Daolon Wong spat. "I had thought we could come to an agreement, but if you will not take this seriously there is no point! Mayhaps some other, more desperate fool will free you from your prison, but I will waste no more time on you!" He brandished his staff, an energy blast already gleaming on the tip-
"Wait!"
-only to pull it back at the spirits cry. "Do I have your attention, then?" he asked, with a confident leer.
After a long moment, the spirit growled, "I'm listening."
"Good." The dark chi wizard took a moment to gather his thoughts. "As you may have guessed, I am only recently dead. This realm is… strange to me, and I cannot access my true powers yet. Thus, my offer to you; I shall free you from your prison, and in return you shall guide and teach me until I have regained my full strength."
"Let me get this straight," they said, the thermos wobbling with skepticism. "You want to hire *me* as a bodyguard? I serve nobody, old man!"
"Calm yourself, spirit," he spat, his eyes flashing. "I have no intention of trying to control you. Merely permit me to accompany you, and learn from you, and I shall consider your debt paid in full."
"And what if I don't feel like letting you follow me around like some sort of leech?"
Daolon Wong pursed his lips, drawing blood when his new, jagged fangs nicked his skin. "If you will not accept a follower, perhaps a guide?" he finally asked. "I have knowledge of many artifacts that can be found in the material world, relics would could benefit even your mighty power, great spirit. I could lead you to them, in exchange for a small favor."
"A small favor? Hah! You must think I am desperate, or a fool. If you know of such mighty artifacts, why on earth would you need me? Just find them yourself, take the power for your own!"
Daolon Wong cocked his head, worrying his lips furiously in thought. Finally, he bit out, "I cannot. There is a family, in the earthly realm, which has opposed me at every turn. The talismans, the chosen one, the Deja Vu stone… every time I have grasped for power, they have stood in my way. I am weaker than I have ever been, now, and if history has taught me one thing it is that where I go, the Chans will follow."
"So what, you expect me to fight your battles for you?" the spirt mocked.
"Precisely, for that is the bargain I offer you," Daolon Wong replied. "I shall show you each, and every artifact and relic I can remember, until your power is beyond peer. And in return, I ask that when the Chan's come to oppose you, you deal with them most harmfully!"
"And if they don't come?"
"Oh, they will. Those meddling fools could never leave well enough alone."
The spirt fell silent for a long, long moment, so that the only sound was the gentle touch of an unseen breeze as it drifted past. Then the spirit began to laugh, long and low and hungrily, so that it's prison rocked back and forth on its base. "More power to be won, freedom to be found, and all I need to do is kill some meddling fools? Old man, you have yourself a deal."
"Then what should I call you, most malevolent of specters?" Daolon Wong asked as he brandished his staff, the beginnings of a blast already gathering at the jeweled tip.
"Call me Phantom.
AN: I've always really liked both of these fandoms; not just because of the shows, but because of the sheer creativity a lot of the fanfiction shows (even if there's not nearly enough JCA fanfics out there). And when I thought about it some more, I realized it would be really easy to overlap the settings in a wonderful way.
Unfortunately, putting the idea into practice has proved harder, and any attempt to introduce the Chans and the Fentons has run straight into a writer's block. It's such a shame too, considering how easily the villains managed to fit together...