That stupid, ignorant dragon. He just had to go and make a big deal out of nothing, didn't he– going and acting like it suddenly matters that Jack's been willing to die for this cause.

"Peh." The goth lying along the width of the Molar-2000's seat wrinkles his nose.

It's not for them. It never was and it never will be, either. It's to spit in Chase Young's face – to spit in all their faces. To prove that, if left unchecked, he very well can grow to be a dire problem for each and every one of them.

The day will come. Their day. The day Jack finally snuffs them all out – Xiaolin and Heylin alike.

The thought doesn't reverse his anger though. Not now. Not with the unlikelihood of survival in what's coming u–

He shakes his head, growling and with a close-eyed scowl on his face.

'He's just trying to save them from that future.'

That's the only reason Dojo would try to console him of all people.

'Well it's not gonna work.'

They'll all rue the day they underestimated him. Laughed at and belittled him. Thought, like almost everyone else, him to be nothing more than a lost cause. Until the day comes that that "insect" returns with its army, having merely been a scout all along.

Watching. Listening. Reading. Stealing.

Learning and preparing.

His scowl dulls, a cold rage taking hold of the goth.

He must think himself so clever, that Temple Dragon. First, he all but forces the evil genius into a contract in the name of trust. Then, when it's certain no form of retaliation can come forth, he makes his move.

'Disgusting, wretched dragon,' Jack seethes. 'I'll make sure you're the first Xiaolin to go.'

His demise would ruin the Losers. Their response to the fail-safe only proves it.

Their Master would be all that remains to do anything about it.

The goth barks out an evil laugh.

"Was that the plan, Loser Young?" He opens glaring eyes. "Kill the head and the body will follow?"

Another wretched laugh leaves the boy.

"Well you should have taken the dragon out like you did their Master. Maybe then things wouldn't be going so remarkably well for us, huh?"

All things considered, it's incredible they've come this far with such a shaky alliance, and it would have fallen apart if not for Dojo gluing it back together via The Dragon's Gambit.

But he snorts. Shakes the boastful thought from mind. Remembers that, 'Eh, it's really not that impressive…'

The freeing of all but Omi was always something he could have done on his own. It's what now must be done that's a problem.

He cannot take Chase on and expect to win without the monks' help. He'd been so relieved to learn from his Wasp-Bots' link with Lense-Bot that the warlord and Omi split apart every now and then. He had laughed upon learning of it, had cackled in a crazed fashion, because of course the warlord would be so careless when he must figure himself untouchable.

And perhaps Chase is.

Only time and action will tell.

Jack's crossed arms tighten.

Time. He feels that his is running out. It's pathetic... He's somewhere between annoyed and grateful that the Losers are taking forever to move things along. It's not as if there wouldn't be time to blow once they're all in position. Whatever useless crap they're doing right now could be done, then, too.

'Whatever.'

If they want to waste time, who's he to demand they do otherwise? He's more than likely going to die anyways; no reason to rush it.

Instead, he closes his eyes. Makes fists of his hands. Ignores the nerves making him shake. And counts backward in his head, eventually falling asleep. He dreams of a silver lining that dared streak across the void he'd been born into.

Hazy recollections fade it to black, completing, at last, the charcoal heart clenching to stone in his chest.

He's ripped from the nightmare by banging on the Molar-2000.

His eyes pop open, their wide stare intense. Hateful.

Wet.

A harsh growl lodges in his throat. He is sick of crying. Sick of waiting. Sick of everything.

Either the monks are ready to go or he's going to make them ready.

He shoots up into a proper sit, but fists his hands before he can open the hatch. He shuts his eyes tight, mind on fire, and hatefully starts the count-down. The pressure in his head lessens. Calms. Evaporates like water under blaring sun-light.

More banging starts up, but he chooses to chuckle for this bout of it as the numbers go by. He imagines RJ's with a sharkish grin on its face, the robot doubtlessly predicting a multiplying aggravation within him.

That is, after all, the whole point to what it's doing. The function.

The evil genius snorts. Sniffs. Blows his nose on a handkerchief, then up-heaves mucus to spit onto it, before folding the fabric up and pocketing it back in its place in his trench coat.

He takes a deep breath. Lets it go. Ignores more banging and takes another. Another. And another, releasing this one with a sigh.

The evil smile he dredges up is duller than his usual, but it's the best he can manage before opening the hatch to the Molar-2000 and moving to stand with his knees on the seat so he can cross his arms atop the edge of the cockpit and look down upon RJ's sharkish grin.

"Having fun?"

The smirk on RJ's face dulls, its optic-lids drooping as it grips its hands behind itself.

"Mm. Well," Jack says, "I assume you Losers are ready to go now?" Eyes on them, he lowers his chin to rest it upon his crossed arms. "Or are you wasting even more-?"

"We're ready," Raimundo interrupts, standing at the forefront of his group.

The evil genius quirks a brow.

"Alright then." He jumps down, lands beside a turned around RJ and adopts its stance. "Lead on."

The moment's pause he's met with is used to look up at the big Temple Dragon. He meets Dojo's hard, yet grim expression with a dull stare that seems to communicate the disgust, because the dragon's brow knits and his frown deepens just so.

'Just wait… dragon.'

The Wu sizes up: A big armadillo, ready to tunnel.

Its side door opens.

RJ and he look upon the Tunnel Armadillo with a blank stare.

They wait.

Dojo blinks, sizes down, and he and his kids enter the Wu.

The evil genius sighs. "Do what you will…"

He walks off from a robot that's smiling like a shark. He enters the Shen Gong Wu. It's roomy inside, he finds, and he walks straight to the back of the golden innards.

He sits far away as possible from the losers – somewhere he can hopefully just wait in silence.

He's with a headache, though, and while it's not as bad as it was, it's still annoying the crap out of him.

Seeing one of them might get it throbbing like it was again…

Thus, in the back he resides.

The Wu leaps in the air. He's fine, though, as there's a seat-belt, big head-rest and all, but the resultant jerk to a stop that precedes actual digging will always irk him. Nonetheless, it's a nice ability. Useful.

It even proves quiet for a while. A nice while. A roomy, spacious, nice while of silence.

Time for Evil Considerations. For eyeing his watch. For the other mystical blip that's been keeping with Omi and Chase… The blip with the accursed's smudge.

Jack scowls at the violet marker. It's weak – shockingly weak – but not… like usual. Rather than ethereal, it's solid.

The evil genius makes a fist of his hand.

His right arm shakes.

He bites down the anger. Looses a long, shaky breath.

'If she's solid…'

He glowers at his watch.

'Then she's solid. Omi first for the Yo-Yo.'

It's wretched. Truly, truly wretched. But not worth the possible advantage. No matter how wretched she is.

At least it's quiet inside the Tunnel Armadillo. It's not dissimilar from his Molar-2000, either – just more roomy inside. And when his neck goes stiff from him staring at the back-end of the magical vehicle, well, that's what leaning his head back and closing his eyes is for.

Plus, no one says anything to him, then, either, and the rest of the way to their designated waiting spot is also quiet.

How quaint.

If they're waiting for him to bring up his watch's projection of Chase's lair, he doesn't care to open his eyes to find out. They have mouths, and RJ will notify him of when the time has come.

So Jack's content to remain as he is, seated with his head back and a neutral frown on his face.

That is, until he hears the others moving around. He's not about to trust them, so he pops the appropriate eye open to see what the heck these losers are up to.

The goth's surprised to see Dojo setting up a board game.

He quirks a brow, but decides to watch, seeing as he's nothing better to do.

They each pick a color matching them. Kimiko, red; Raimundo, light gray; Clay, brown; and Dojo, green.

Dojo gives Raimundo a look.

The kid sighs.

Jack's brow furrows.

The moment that boy turns his head, though, Jack shuts his eye.

"You wanna play, Spicer…?"

Jack almost quirks a brow.

Still: 'What the hell…?'

Does he want. To play.

He'd blink if his eyes were open.

But no change is to be seen in the goth.

"Okay…" Raimundo drawls.

For which the evil genius smiles faintly.

Unseen to him, the Brazilian rolls his eyes before returning them to his and his friends' game.

Dojo gives a proud thumbs up to the Dragon of Wind. The added firm nod, though, is what finally paints a somewhat humorous smile on each of his kids, even if Kimiko's is particularly slight.

Their game proceeds.

And, after hearing a few pieces get moved around, Jack again opens the same eye.

Just to be startled by staring dragon eyes.

His expressed surprise turns into a glower, though, and he drops his red eyes to the board-game, deciding he doesn't care if he's been caught.

He's not surprised to find their moves questionable, though his brow certainly does end up going quite high for some of them. Particularly Dojo's. Jack wonders if they're doing a team-game, what with how fast Kimiko wins via the usage of the dragon's pieces. Dojo practically built a ladder just for her, and he finds himself uncaring of the Dragons of Wind and Earth's annoyance.

A low chuckle leaves the dragon.

Jack blinks.

Another game's started.

This one is slower. Much slower. This time, Dojo makes it obvious that his sole purpose is to impede the other players. It's actually kind of funny: seeing the annoyance he paints upon the face of each monk. A nice enough play-style, in Jack's opinion. Not just because it pushes the other players' buttons, but-

A face flashes in his mind's eye, the deadly gaze reptilian.

He no longer wishes to watch the monks play. Instead, the connection the evil genius has made has him counting back from ten-thousand, so as to calm his beating heart. And perhaps quell the shake in his now-pocketed hands.

The former goal is achieved, but not so much the latter. Still, at least his mind is occupied, and he decides he'd like to keep the numbers going until it's time to get going.

Perhaps, by then, he'll be ready for it.


An alarm blares from Jack's watch.

He cringes. 'Crud…'

The thing's a miniature siren and quite soundly has interrupted the monks' pathetic games.

The radio sounds, RJ announcing: "Ready to go; sounding off."

The thirty-second count-down lie on his watch's screen, the alarm still blaring.

The monks stand, all wide-eyed.

Jack brings up the screen projection of Chase's lair.

The Witch and the monk are off on their own.

Them, and the other Yo-Yo being on Omi makes all three by themselves, away from Chase and even most other blips.

Jack drums his fingers on his thigh. "We have to go, you know…"

He kills the projection, lifting and turning his wrist to show the count-down to the monks, instead.

To his mild surprise, Dojo takes the wheel, front and center seat within the Wu.

The Armadillo's mystic engine revs up.

The thing rumbles, the big shove coming when it suddenly tears through the underground.

"Go, plea –"

"–Going," RJ replies right back through the prim evil genius' watch.

He lowers his eyes to the device and re-crosses his arms.

The shaking of the vehicle intensifies.

His drilling robots remain parallel to them, though, distant as they are.

A new count-down lie on the genius's now-silent watch.

He watches the red-flashing numbers tick down.

He drums his fingers. Faster, slower, faster again, stopping altogether at the fifteen second mark.


Sat within the Molar-2000, RJ watches the counter on its optical feed with artificial excitement.

It drops past ten.

Seven

Five.

Four.

The robot exits the speeding vehicle's rear, shooting its feet into the Earth as a drill and tunneling through. It shoots from the ground after the Molar-2000, landing on its feet as the vehicle drives into the wall of Chase's throne room.

The wide space shakes, but its foundation maintains.

The man sat upon his seat of power regards RJ with a bored, almost expectant frown on his face.

Chase Young moves to stand, unimpressed, and moving no more when the room stills than when it was rocking from all the ruckus.

The Guards stand to Robo-Jack's rear, blasters poised. As Chase's two guardsmen approach, the Guards point and blast jumping jungle cats to smithereens.

The Guards approach through heavy smoke, jagged optics a blaring red.

Jack-Bots pour in from behind RJ, from the Molar-2000's hole in the ground.

They flood the air above and behind RJ, hovering, before all firing their blasters.

The rain falls.


The Tunnel Armadillo shoots from the ground, landing heavily upon its feet.

The vehicle drives a short ways, before curving to a quick stop.

His exiting of the Wu is behind everyone else.

The lot of them pause. They step back, allowing Jack forward, for the incoming ice crescent that suddenly slices to the right of the redhead.

Grabbing the hick, Jack pulls. He almost stumbles them, but the projectile misses Clay and carries on to slam into the wall behind them.

The place settles down.

Omi approaches.

Jack's given pause. He stands in front of Clay, an unsure smile on his face for how evil Omi's grin is…

"Jack Spicer," the kid chuckles to himself.

His eyes glow red.

And why is his smile so shar-?

"Why have you come here?"

…And is he happy?

Jack shoves Clay somewhere behind himself.

"To make you an offer."

Of course. What else could it be?

He walks up to Omi, leaning down to whisper,

"We take out Wuya, form our own evil coalition and take what's ours!"

Omi's taken aback by the ambition.

Not unexpected.

But he seems a little more torn on the matter than was estimated…

He looks away from Spicer, seeming… agitated suddenly. Huh. What's with tha-?

"I… I cannot do that."

Spicer blinks. Then glares.

At her, over Omi's shoulder.

Wuya.

"And why is that?" Jack grouses. Looks like a damn good deal to him.

Omi's frown deepens.

"Spicer," speaks the approaching and scowling accursed, "I've been waiting to get my hands on yo-"

Omi glares.

He turns and lifts an arm in her direction.

Countless ice shards burst forth from his sleeve.

Wuya's eyes widen, the witch turning and running away from an endless stream of icy projectiles. Leaping. Sprinting for her life along the edges of the circular space.

"Be silent!" Omi shouts. "You are the student, and I am the master!"

The ice is getting closer to Wuya. Quite pleasantly so.

Jack stands next to Omi, watching with a smile and reaching for nothing in particular dangling from the kid's darker set of bathrobes.

… And then Wuya pulls out–

"Changing Chopsticks!"

She's gone so fast, Omi has no time to change his aim.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

That is what's to be found, upon both Jack and Omi running to where she'd been, inspecting the floor for any sign of the witch.

There's just rocky walls and floor, ice melting away from both.

The two kids blink. Omi glowers at the ground, Jack slumping with a similar look on his face.

The monks glower at Jack, Raimundo's grip on the Yo-Yo's a tight one.

"We should just leave him," Kimiko mutters darkly.

Clay shakes his head. Puts a hand on the Brazilian's tense shoulder. "We need him. Nuthin' else to it."

Not that the evil genius notices.

"Omi," Jack says, "let's just go. We'll get her later."

The goth grabs the other kid's forearm, attempting to bring Omi along, only for the fallen monk to pull out of Jack's hold.

"I can not." Omi's red eyes glare at Jack. "Why do you not just join Chas-"

"I'm sorry-what did you just say to me?"

Omi's angry eyes trail to his friends.

The boy angers even more, but Jack steps in front of his sharp expression.

"Do you have any idea what Chase would do to me?" the evil genius asks of Omi. He'd like to know. Really.

The miffed boy's brows draw together. He opens his mouth, only to shut it up.

"Neither do I," Jack concurs. "So let's not talk like I'm suicidal. Please and thank you."

Omi growls, stupor ended. "Why are you with them?" He demands.

All humor is officially gone.

'Bummer…'

More importantly, he's looking poised to attack, too.

"Better question: What are you doing giving up becoming a dragon warrior?"

The boy's taken aback by the accusation.

"What? I am a dragon warrior!"

Resisting a backward step, Jack chuckles despite the unsettling power Omi's outburst sends blowing past him. "B-But you don't have your chi…"

Omi squats down, poising himself to leap at Spicer. "And what of it?"

"Well…" Jack ventures, "don't you need balance in your chis to become a Dragon Warrior?"

Omi's brows draw together again. The evil genius gives an expectant look.

But the dark expression Omi then adopts gives reason for Jack to back away, toward the monks.

"Jack Spicer… you had no intentio-!"

"Yin-Yang Yo-Yo!" Raimundo shouts. Using both hands, he yo-yos the Wu outward, creating a dark and revolving portal the moment the artifacts reach the end of their strings.

Raimundo pulls the Wu back into his hands. He and Kimiko jump in first, Clay stoming his foot to create a wall for another ice-crescent sent their way.

The wall is slammed into, shaking all as a wide-eyed Jack forces Clay around by the shoulder and stumbles into the portal alongside him.