First, a disclaimer. Xiaolin Showdown is owned by Christy Hui and Warner Bros entertainment.

Vamp: To Akary55, I still say Gracias. To the Twice-ler, I actually just hit 's' and not 'm', but thank you for pointing that out or I would have missed it. My Jack stays out of character, and if I still have any people still reading this, thank you for your loyalty and interest.

And to those of you who are reading this outside of the United States, though I cannot thank all of you individually, I thank you just the same.

Chapter 4: Jack has a Surprise Guest

Jack wandered the halls of the mansion, shivering from the cool air on still damp skin, as he searched for someone. Anyone. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but he felt it had to have been a few hours for his head to stop bleeding and hurting. And yet, in all that time, he had only seen two robots.

There were no people. He was absolutely alone.

He pulled his robe tighter around himself. It was, like the bedspread in the room he stayed in, black and soft to the touch. And like the clothes he'd been wearing when he'd gone to bed, it had been rumpled and unloved, left in a pile on the bathroom floor.

Whoever it was that lived here, they didn't seem to care about anything at all. Bar the glasses that still lay on the nightstand. How could this place be Jack's? He wouldn't have treated all those things that way.

Jack felt more and more uneasy as he walked the halls of the mansion. It was a lot like a museum; beautiful, cold, and filled with fragile items that cost more than his life. So far, he had passed nine different cases filled with antiques, five Ming vases, three French paintings, and a tapestry that looked to be from some ancient Chinese dynasty he couldn't name. And the only reason he'd known the others was because of little plaques near them.

He had come to the conclusion that he was in the home of the richest man alive.

And he wasn't going to touch a goddamn thing.

Last thing he needed was to break a one-of-a-kind plate or something. Which would probably be his luck.

He also had this sick feeling of being watched as he moved along the halls. At any moment, he expected to get-

He flinched. Slowly, he opened his eyes, looking about.

Damn. That always worked in movies. He rubbed the back of his neck, frowning as he looked around, trying to decide where to go.

He felt so much better since his bath. He hadn't gotten to wash his hair, unfortunately, as it was mostly covered by a large bandage, but the rest of him felt better. No more dirt, no more dried blood, no more uncomfortable stiffness. He had noticed, though, as he washed, that he was oddly pale. He wondered how pale he looked when his skin wasn't red from heat and cinnamon-scented soap.

He loved that soap. It was so warm and comforting, unlike this damn mansion. He was definitely buying some the first chance he got!

Jack let his mind wander to different ways he could complain about the place he was hiding in –as it stressed him less than thinking of all the things he couldn't remember– he was cut off by the sound of whirring machinery. It was faint, but was the first sound he had heard since getting out of the bath.

A dark red eyebrow rose curiously as he moved down a smaller hallway towards the noise. He found a small wooden door that was hidden away in the corner. It had been left partially opened, and the inside had all different kinds of locks from a chain to a deadbolt. Whatever was down there, it wasn't meant for public viewing. Jack's hand twitched lightly.

It was clearly a private place. He almost didn't want to head down there, if not for the oddest feeling that was building within him.

He wanted…he needed to see what was down there.

He moved slowly, careful not to make a sound, even though the machinery would have drowned out any he could have made. He hugged the wall, and stretched his neck to peer around the corner and catch a glimpse of whatever laid downstairs. And what he saw took his breath away.

It was dark, lit only by a handful of overhead lights. Everything was shades of black and grey, which looked more natural than any other place in the bright house above. The walls were a dark stone brick, the ground worn cement with small nicks and scratches to show things had been drug across the ground more than once. Machinery, robotics, and tools covered almost every available space, save for a large steel table in the center of the room. The far wall was one large computer screen, the desk beneath covered in a large keyboard with only just enough space for the mouse. As Jack stepped forward, he found there was only one other door, on the far left, which seemed to lead outside.

And everywhere there were robots. They filled the air to the point a lesser man might have screamed. Yet Jack only felt awe.

He wandered more into the room, not even bothering to duck the flying or wheeling robots, knowing instantly that they would move for him.

He rested his hands on the steel table, splaying his fingers. Something in him panged.

He felt incomplete.

He let out a sign and turned to search the room, when the sound of chuckling met his ears. He whipped around, meeting playful green eyes that flashed from the shadows. He heard what sounded like purring, and tensed. The sound made his shoulder lock painfully.

He didn't like cats.

"Well, well. Did widdle Jackie get hurt at another showdown? Poor widdle Jackie." The voice teased, the eyes growing cold.

Jack swallowed, feeling more nervous than he had when he first arrived at the manor.

"Who are you?"

Vamp: I am going to try to make the chapters longer. I don't know if I'll manage it, but I'll give it my best. I don't really like the length I'm managing right now.