"Look what Vlad found!"
Though Vlad's more than happy to laugh this aloud within Chase Young's citadel, the one he has gripped over-head is not who he thinks. Such stellar ignorance would normally be cause for amusement, but after what Robo-Jack has endured, the bot can only glower at the room's rotund high ceiling.
There's nothing to be seen there, though – just a blank slate of gray monochrome that serves as little more than a prime reminder of the dimwit holding Robo-Jack.
Thus, Robo-Jack instead turns for the wall, where large yellow dragon-eyes gleam their piercing stare from all directions– a sight that doesn't last since Vlad chooses right then to suddenly open his big, grimy hands.
Optics widen, arms flail–
"Oof…"
And as the dust settles, it's at last official: Faking capture to Vlad has been annoying from start to finish. Why, just ten minutes into it and Robo-Jack lost count of how many times and ways the moron used that freaking play on Jack's name. Though with how Vlad shook RJ to and fro – smirking that ugly, grotesque smirk – as he insulted Jack, minor memory malfunction seems fitting – especially when that buffoonish laugh Vlad thinks passes for evil came booming from his ugly maw.
Those pits' odor is another factor, as it's on par with a gust of pepper spray. Robo-Jack's ceasing, if not outright seizing, of olfactory sense im-me-di-ate-ly added to the ever-growing list of reasons RJ is happy to be a robot. Yet this still left the possibility of corrosion, and whilst how RJ's not yet been reduced to a pile of rust is indeed a real chemical phenomenon, its retribution is certain.
Looking up from the ground, though, Robo-Jack sees the warlord himself: Chase Young. Displeasure lines every crease forming on his brow. There even seems to be a frown tugging at his lips.
RJ smiles sheepishly. Chase's reptilian eyes sharpen. His nose starts to flare– and is the rabid salamander's jaw clenching, too...?
'Perfect!'
The mood is set.
"Hey, Chase," Robo-Jack greets. Certainly a nervous chuckle and wave will help its cause, and RJ enacts both before getting up. It's also rude to then look away right after and scowl at Vlad for a moment, but that's an ugly this bot's glad to be walking away from, never mind the danger ahead. Even if that danger is getting angrier with every step Robo-Jack takes.
Such can only mean it's time to shift into an easy-going stride.
"I was just in the neighborhood," drawls the fellow evil doer from down the block, "and was wondering if you'd maybe wanna…"
Robo-Jack stops, shrugs, and rolls its eyes thoughtfully, casually– as if Jack has known this man for years. Then RJ's mouth opens, ready to spout the falsest of proposals, only for Chase to snarl its nefarious intentions to ashes.
"Do not even dare utter those revolting words, Spicer."
The name's spat out like a curse – heart-felt and stressed – as nine dots flash into existence upon the man's forehead.
"Your absence has been nothing short of supernal, and I do not wish to cease the good fortune now!" The warlord's declaration roars past Robo-Jack and down the hall Vlad and the bot entered through.
Chase's glare has actually gotten darker. Somehow, some way, he has managed it despite the ninety degree shifted Mark of Mount Chrome Dome glowing bright upon his forehead.
It's the glare of death. The face of evil. Those yellow eyes' narrow slits are practically cutting into RJ.
'We're never gonna beat this guy… He's even eviler than before! Just look at that scowl!'
The slight uplift of debris around the warlord is definitely another relative evil touch, too.
Robo-Jack only manages a few retreating steps before a chain sounds from behind itself. The bot gets partial visual on the wielder – a large warrior of Roman origin – and then thick metal links impact RJ's side, the chain's long excess rapidly winding down RJ until reaching the bot's ankles with a sound clink.
Robo-Jack hops away not nearly as best it can and–
"Oof…"
Falls flat to the ground.
The warrior grabs RJ and, after lugging the bot over his shoulder like a toothpick, makes for a hallway.
Chase takes his own leave then, but Vlad remains smiling with (stupid) humor.
'Idiot,' RJ processes. Joy proceeds once that one's out of sight, Robo-Jack then amending to 'Idiots' with far more inward enthusiasm.
A few turns later and the warrior is descending rocky steps dimly lit via ceiling lanterns. Many jostling steps pass before they finally arrive at the underground dungeon, after which the minion proceeds to take Robo-Jack down a long, torch-lit hall of jail cells. Each cell is rather roomy, and separated by a thick wall of rock, which is the general make of the place, save for the metal bars and restraints.
Robo-Jack's optics scan every cell they pass.
'Okay, now…where are those losers...'
Five empty cells go by.
'Alright…'
Ten, twelve, eighteen…
'...Not-Alright.'
There's a skeleton or two within some of the passing cells, though, so that's at least something to enjoy. They darken the place up, admittedly, but there's too few. Lizard-Man is obviously skittish. Cheap. Unable to comprehend that there's a certain rhythm to these things, or at least a sort of variety. The man thought to have some meet their end gripping at the bars keeping them confined, and some are still dangling by their shackles, but not one of the hangers is upside down– or even in half, for that matter.
That's like buying a blade with no edge. Where's the point? What's the point? Why even go through the trouble of having people starve to death if it's not going to lead to the evilest of results– the gnarliest of outcomes?
What a shame. All this shows is that Chase Young, like these calcified remains, is old news– and soon to be of equal relevance.
'...'
By empty Cell #29, however, Robo-Jack grows annoyed.
'Figures. The one time things go swell and they're probably not even here.'
RJ is just about to glare to its right when the warrior suddenly drops Robo-Jack. The bot's boots barely even hit the ground before it's grabbed by the top of its head and lifted up, the large hand blocking RJ's view as it shouts, "Hey, what's the b–!"
Robo-Jack's thrust within a cell, winding mid-air and crashing back-first against solid rock. RJ's teeth and optics clench from the force. Its upside down form then falls off the surface, small pieces of rocky debris following RJ to the ground.
Then comes the gate's resounding slam.
RJ rolls onto its back with a half-faked groan and peers over itself to foggily register the warrior already taking his leave.
'No… you're kidding…'
Robo-Jack shakes its head both for this and to mask an optical-restart.
Yet even after that, all that reaches through the silence is the sound of departure – quieting steps that grow more outrageous by the sec–
"What, no demeaning taunt before you leave me?!" Robo-Jack leans its head up further. "What kind of evil are you people!?" it shouts after the Roman warrior.
The slam was perfect, but the lack of a follow-up insult to really rub things in makes it just yet another wasted effort. A quiet leave such as this is a sure sign that Chase isn't training his men as well as himself.
It will be his downfall.
"Do you have to be so loud?" The question's groaned out and despondent but, more importantly, is from a Xiaolin Loser. A somewhat scary (sore) loser, maybe, but at least she's not petrifying (like a certain Soviet barbarian).
Robo-Jack looks to the cell ahead of its own, a triumphant grin at the ready–
And the look thins out before RJ can declare true evil's victory. She has a haggard appearance, outfit torn in a few places, dirt here, a small mark of dried blood there. Bruises and cuts mar her skin in a few places as well. However, it's none of these things making Robo-Jack frown. No, not even Kimiko's shackled hover against the wall.
…
There's only one loser within its natural habitat.
So, ignoring her question and ill-regard for itself, Robo-Jack lowers its head back to the ground, brings its knees to its chest; and kicks up off the ground, landing neatly before Kimiko's now-incredulous eyes.
RJ then hops right up to the bars of its cell and looks down both ends of Kimiko's row.
Nothing's found. There's not a single loser more.
Robo-Jack's optics narrow before slicing their way back to Kimiko. She's taken aback in a different way, then, and it's not a happy one.
Still: "Where the heck are the other losers?"
Her blue eyes give RJ a contemptuous once-over. "What do you care?" Her nose wrinkles. "Like you didn't come here to grovel at Chase's feet."
Unimpressed, Robo-Jack merely quirks an eyebrow and sticks its tongue out at her. Kimiko rolls her eyes, and RJ chuckles, opening optics then revealing a glaring monk.
The muscles of her arms tense. Fingers curl. The biggest joke, however, is that she seems to think herself threatening, that she'd actually be able to do something if it weren't for them being in different cells, her restraints mattering, and – most importantly, RJ believes – their situation:
One-Thousand Years of Darkness – Chase Young Edition.
Thus, the bot answers her tired anger with a wide grin and half-lidded stare.
"You know," Kimiko says, "I'm impressed. You're even bigger slime–"
Robo-Jack's goggle lenses pop free. Six spindly legs sprout from them, and they land like silent insects.
"...than I remember..."
Surprised baby blues follow the Lens-Bots' dart out of RJ's cell and down the hall, but once they're gone, she steadily frowns, suspicion utter when she next regards Robo-Jack.
"What are you after here…?"
RJ falls back to the ground. A happy sigh escapes the bot. "Oh, you know, just groveling at Chase's feet."
Bit by bit, though, Robo-Jack's head raises to reveal a vile grin.
"They're not here, are they?"
One question, dual benefits: The flaring of her nostrils and clenching jaw not only prove she's angrier, now, but that she's all alone.
Sad as that is, this is standard evil.
Thy shall wallow in fear and despair together–
–Un-less… the heroes are properly demoralized, and it's time to ship 'em off to some lonely, decrepit part of the world to live out their remaining pathetic days.
The Loser of Fire is obviously the only one that hasn't yet lived out that entire code of evil conduct.
Mag-nificent.
RJ groans and plops its head back down. "Figures."
This is why they should have come earlier – from the start, not a couple hours later. In neither case – ugly witch hag or warlord gecko – was there an abundance of time to act. Wuya took less than half a day to rule the planet, and Chase Young never once seemed like the kind of villain to not move things along at his own rampaging pace of sinister dominance.
What was Jack thinking!? Now they're going to be here longer! Seeing, hearing, speaking to these LOSERS!
…
And helping them.
…
Silence ensues, during which Robo-Jack's dull stare at the ceiling is eventually broken by a huff and roll of its eyes. The most grudging of smiles is then worn, the bot really wishing it could cross its arms.
'Well, things could be worse. We could still be Hey–'
"Why would you even bother coming back? Literally no one's missed you."
"Ugh, do you ever stop nagging?"
"Funny," Kimiko says, "last I checked, losing and whining are your expertise."
"Which of us got here first again?"
"Is there a point to you being?"
"More than you," Robo-Jack laughs.
Kimiko returns it: "Must be nice living in denial."
"Like failing the entire world?"
She growls at that, sneering, "And what have you done to help?"
RJ's disgust is immediate: "Since when am I a Xiaolin Loser?"
"We don't take freaks," she dryly informs the bot.
"You took Vlad."
"And you still lost."
"Yet here we are."
"H-,"quickly shaking her head, "What do you even have to do with anything?"
"–Loser."
"Freak." Swift this time and glaring.
"Failure."
"Mama's boy."
"Daddy's girl."
"Jackass!"
Robo-Jack immediately smiles. "Ah-ah-ah, Kimiko, language. What would Master Fungus say, huh?"
"That you're a lost cause."
Snorting, RJ rolls its optics. "Well you would know. Loser."
"Whatever, weirdo," Kimiko mutters under her breath.
Well, if she's still gonna talk smack–
"Oh yeah," Robo-Jack suddenly recalls, "a little dragon told me you–"
"What did you do to Dojo!?" Her restraints audibly tense.
Wow. That didn't take long...
Huh.
"– guys... got-pasted-by-Cue–"
"Jack. Spicer."
Her cold tone puts the bot's humor on standby. "If you–"
"Why are you assuming I touched Dojo?" The complaint's flippant, at the ceiling, and completely overshadows Kimiko's voice. Then, after shaking its head in disbelief, RJ leans up and thrusts a wagging index finger at this particularly presumptuous loser. "Listen here, los–!"
Kimiko's baby blues have gone saucer-wide. The girl blinks owlishly, thin eyebrows steadily drawing together as Robo-Jack's optics lower to its risen hand. Artificial eyes then land on the snapped joints of the chain, the thing now only hugging RJ's lower half.
"Oh well," Robo-Jack shrugs, "not like–"
Something terrible has transpired.
A Lens-Bot's signal has died.
If Chase sees it, or his minions possess any common se– Okay, they can't be that stupid, can they? How many Vlads can there be…?
"And we're leaving," Robo-Jack declares. Hurriedly, it pulls the chain down and off itself, ignoring the girl's utterance of its actual designation.
"Excuse me?" She's now in outright disbelief. No shortage of doubt exists in the way her eyes yet again rake up and down its form.
Robo-Jack kicks itself up off the ground again and neatly lands before the cell bars.
"The Lens-Bot," Robo-Jack says whilst bending two bars apart, "that was going for the yo-yo got destroyed." Its clutching hands grip harder on the bent bars, indenting them before Robo-Jack thrusts itself forth.
Near the apex of its jump, Robo-Jack extends its arms toward Kimiko's cell and crosses them. Both hands create a finger-gun, and from each fires an intense blue plasma beam as RJ then swipes its arms out of their crossing.
Killing the feed withers the energy to remnants of fading blue-white; and as the hall darkens back to its original dimness, metal bars clang to the ground, followed by Robo-Jack landing before Kimiko's now-open cell.
"We're leaving."
Entering her cell has a blob of smelted metal fall upon Robo-Jack's shoulder. The bot regards it as a mild pest and swats it off.
An artificial smirk then blooms, RJ pausing to say, "Unless you really enjoy being strapped to the wall." One full-fledged shrug comes with the offer.
She only glares, though, so Robo-Jack drops the pose and resumes walking.
Kimiko's hard look only rescinds once RJ grabs the shackles keeping her legs held. The bot breaks them off with ease, then quickly stands, rips the last two off, and takes a wide step back.
Her land is relatively graceful – on two feet, for sure. She even balances in a few seconds, then glares up at RJ. Like RJ is at fault or something. So Robo-Jack grins at a quarter of the mission being nearly complete.
The girl's fist swings.
Robo-Jack's optics flash and narrow at Kimiko's rapidly-approaching attack. The bot's hand tenses; the fingers spread, twitch, flex–
Slapping Kimiko's fist off-course has her immediately grimace, but her eyes proceed to pop wide open as she's thrown off-balance. "Hey! Keep your filthy paws to yourself, Xiaolin Loser!" Disgusted, RJ now rakes its optics over her form. "I've got enough to do without getting your failure all over me."
That being said, Robo-Jack takes quite a few large steps back. It's finding little amusement in the loser's wobbly stand and is rather let down when Kimiko manages to not fall on her face, as the floor would have been a far superior location for her returning glare's emanation.
Oh well. She's still nothing more than an ember failing to reach flame-status.
'Ember, Pebble, and Breeze,' Robo-Jack designates.
Whilst Kimiko rubs her wrists, she watches with a sour frown as RJ jumps, brings its legs together, and transforms them into a sizable drill. The bot revs it up and begins drilling upon landfall. "Now come on, loser: we've got a looong way to go!"
The bot's head disappears underground.
"Great..." Kimiko mutters. The sentiment is mutual, but Robo-Jack's having too great a time duping Chase Young to care.
"Hey!"
Looking up, Robo-Jack meets the stalling girl's narrow eyes.
"What did you two do to Dojo!?"
Oh, for the love of– "Nothing! Geez, Lizard Breath–"
"Dojo!" Kimiko snaps.
"Do-jo," RJ parrot back, "is fine! Now where are the other losers?!"
Something between a sigh and a growl passes from her lips, Kimiko then whispering a curse before she jumps in. She doesn't look at the bot as she catches up, and RJ decides on a moment of silence to let the loser attempt that thing called memory. Maybe the anger will help; who can really say.
RJ changes trajectory to allow the girl a more comfortable slide down. Her shorter height certainly helps with the endeavor and light is being given off before Robo-Jack can activate the head-lights present within its lens-less goggles. RJ looks up to see Kimiko frowning as she maintains a small flame in her right hand. She's also taking great interest in the passing rock.
The Xiaolin Loser shrugs.
Ingenious. What more efficient way is there, after all, to let another know you're a clueless loser.
Nonetheless, Kimiko does eventually mutter, "Chase took them." She seems to not want to speak after saying that, which gives Robo-Jack ample time to glower as it speeds up the drilling process.
Of course Chase took them. He probably taunted the losers whilst doing so, too, all without giving a clue as to where they were being taken. A true evil doer's evil doer.
'Well, maybe so,' mocks the bot's AI, 'but I'm an evil doer's evil doer, too, LOSER Young!'
Incompetence. Humiliation. Doubt. That's what will be Chase Young's touch upon the evil history books' talk of recent affairs – his legacy as of late.
And speaking of losers: "So how's Omi doing? Ego must be through the roof from beating the snot out of you three," Robo-Jack laughs. The bot looks up to see Kimiko's baby blues narrowed like icy daggers at itself.
When she snarls at RJ's true interest, the bot all but sputters, "What!? I didn't see the cue-ball!"
"I've got a better topic," Kimiko says whilst closing in on RJ. The bot frowns and leans away from her. "If you found Dojo, then you found Master Fung." Robo-Jack raises an arm to block her flame's brighter enlightenment, then growls and gives a feral smile from which rows of serrated teeth like that on a shark reveal to the girl. Her fiery glare of knives hinders RJ's rising smile none, the bot merely tilting its head.
Robo-Jack's optics swivel up. The bot pretends to think as steam escapes through its teeth. The bot even raises a hand to stroke its chin, and when her patience has all but run dry, masses of steam escape with RJ's every syllable of speech: "H'ahh – Who, Sleeping Loser?"
The bot tilts its head the other way and quirks a brow. Red optics glow brighter, its lips coming together to form an evil grin. RJ's surprised to only get a low, exasperated growl from her, but nonetheless says, "He's fine."
RJ blinks, shrugs, and returns to watching its drill pierce the underground.
Honestly, if Lizard Breath is okay, why wouldn't the old fart be? 'Sheesh. No trust.'
Robo-Jack chuckles at the thought, even as the space enlightens. She can crackle her fire all she wants. It's an expectedly short-lived change, as the flame soon dims back to its original strength.
RJ's smile persists.
"You're lucky I need you right now."
Pfffffff– Robo-Jack has to clench its jaw to keep from laughing, but its lips are sealed.
The last thing needed right now is a loser scuff. RJ can repair just about anything, but once a loser gets their touch of failure on you, it's all over, and you're days are numbered. Deadlier than the plague and world-wide.
'Just look at the sky... even it's in evil awe of these bathroom-dwelling losers.'
The pestilence has spread and continues to, so as far as this robot is concerned, it may as well drill off to the side and let the Loser of Embers have her burnt out spotlight.
The rest of the way is quiet.
Jack slowly drifts off, back pressed to the Molar-2000.
His head droops, goes a little lower, then shoots back up.
The underground cavern, well-illuminated by the Molar-2000's headlights, is still empty. An annoyed growl leaves him. Checking the time on his watch, however, has his head bang against his vehicle.
While he's not looking forward to any of the losers' impending presences – at all – the sooner they get here, the closer he'll be to the end of this trip. This, combined with how long he's been waiting, has his mood skyrocketing the moment there's noise from the ceiling.
Rocky debris starts to fall. Muffled drilling gains volume, and soon enough, RJ's piercing through the ceiling and falling into the cavern as Jack smiles triumphantly. Kimiko, battle-worn as expected, falls in after RJ, and Jack smiles wider.
But when they land and no one else falls through the hole, Jack's grin slowly degrades into a sour frown.
"Hey, hey," Jack calls whilst approaching, "where are the other losers?"
"Weren't there," Robo-Jack shrugs.
Jack stops for an immediate face-palm. "Wonderful..." The hand runs down his face before he asks, "Did you at least get the Wu?"
"Nope." RJ passes by. "Just one Loser of Fire."
"Call me that one more time an–"
"And what?" Robo-Jack challenges. The bot can't help laughing as it walks to the Molar-2000, Jack finishing with, "You'll extend the one-thousand years of darkness?"
Kimiko takes a threatening step toward Jack. Steam rises from her whilst he grins false amazement. The cockpit to his vehicle opens and Robo-Jack leaps within as the girl stalks toward Jack.
"Temper, temper, Kimiko." Jack waves a finger. She definitely wants to snap it. "You wouldn't want Dojo or Fung to be squashed when we get back, would you?"
Lifting his watch, Jack poises a finger over one of its buttons. She stops in her tracks, but wow are her icy baby blues incinerating him with their current glare. Her exposed shoulder muscles bulge, their small rotund forms becoming more distinct. He ignores the taut porcelain skin by instead looking at one of her forming fists.
Her dainty fingers, dirtied and strong, shake just so. However, the long sleeve of her top is partially burnt off, and the revealed portion of her lithe arm draws his attention upward. But the limb moves, so back to her fist he looks, until it lands on her hip.
Crud. His eyes dart down and away from there, and at the first sight of porcelain anything in his peripheral, shoes become the pinnacle of interest. Dull, dirty, ugly Xiaolin Loser shoes.
Perfect.
The last thing he needs is to take in any more of Kimiko's battle-ridden attire. Maybe she did lose, but there's little doubt in his mind that Kimiko didn't send all the molten fire in the world at whoever…
Evil machinations (that may or may not be a bluff) are put on pause for a moment of thought.
'Oh yeah. Omi. Huh.' Okay, so maybe not all the fire in the universe was thrown about, but Kimiko very apparently pushed back. After all, the burns on her loser uniform didn't come from water.
Jack's eyes narrow at her shoes, his evil grin returning before he again meets her icy daggers.
"Now," Robo-Jack says from its sit upon the Molar-2000's open cockpit, "we've a proposition for you, monk." The abnormal usage of a proper noun seems to peek the girl's interest, if mildly, as her expression loses some of its hostility. Robo-Jack's hands lift to its goggle's empty sockets with a replacement lense in each that RJ twists into place.
The redheads then frown and cross their arms.
"Really," Kimiko drawls.
They sneer out the same word in a girlish mockery of her sarcastic tone; Robo-Jack's hands raise and imitate blabbing mouths. A disgusted eye roll passes from the girl. Her head shakes.
"We help you losers take down Chase Young,"
"And we part ways immediately after."
"Ya got that?" they jeer.
Jack is really hoping to keep things short, but Kimiko's narrowing eyes make it obvious that's not happening.
She snorts. It's kinda brutishly done, too.
Double-Crud.
Jack's frown deepens just so.
"Right." Crossed arms accompany her sarcastic agreement. "Until you decide to back-stab me, like you do to us every time."
Jack shrugs, outright dismissive. "Whaat-ever. Like you have a choice."
He turns and begins walking back to the Molar-2000.
"And just what's that supposed to mean, Spicer?!"
Ah, yes, there it is: The first saying of his name as if it's a curse. Dojo's fearful recognition is more Jack's preference, yet far more of Kimiko's sort, the boy genius knows, are to come.
Just a pleasant reminder of the evil ole days.
Chuckling, Jack reaches his vehicle and yells, "Well, unless that Jermaine kid shows up at some point," he hefts himself into the cockpit and sits on its wide seat, "your options for alliance are lookin' kinda..." Jack hooks both thumbs under the elastic band of his goggles, pulls forward, and says, "limited."
Slipping his thumbs free, there's a low pop from Jack's goggles re-covering his widow's peak. He and RJ then turn to one another with rising grins. They shake with uncontrolled snickers that soon burst into echoing guffaws as they hug their stomachs and press into their seat, heads lulling back.
Yet all non-good things must end. Eventually.
"Haaa," Jack exhales. The end to his laughter comes with him wiping at his eyes and bringing a hand to his chin. He then points at Kimiko's simmering form. "Actually, you'd be screwed then, too, since I'm betting Loser Young didn't tell you where he shipped them off to."
The declaration ends with an inquiring tilt of Jack's head. A sinister grin splits across his face as her glare hardens.
"Now, I've got two other losers to bust out before going for the cheese-ball, so if you wouldn't mind helping me fix you losers' screw-up, that'd be greeeaat."
No longer smiling, the duo now glare right back at Kimiko. They're equally uncaring for their shared circumstance and carry no less accusation in their eyes; which is incredible on her part, because who's job is it, again, to keep this world out of centuries of darkness? Not his, last he, Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius, checked!
Kimiko's eyes close. She takes a deep breath through her nose and curls her fingers into tight fists. However, the tremble of her hands lessens, and she lets out a plume of heated air, her shoulders also losing some of their strain.
She takes another breath, this time calmer, and her fists come undone before she exhales.
Her eyes open. She regards him with more of a glower, now.
"If you turn on me," Kimiko says, "I swear I'll make you regret it, Spicer." The hardened focus of her baby blues promises him as much – make him more than sure she'd burn her way through as many bots as needed.
Her last hit upon his being flashes through his memory, followed closely by a chill running down Jack's spine.
Apparently it shows on his face, because a smug grin is on Kimiko as she approaches. It's as if she knows that particular memory has resurfaced.
Looking ahead, Jack groans and lowers his head between his shoulders. Good comebacks, and reinforced ones at that. How'd he ever forget.
"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up," the evil genius mutters.