When at last he awakens his machine, the first thing Robo-Jack does is glare up at him from its lie on the mid-section of the U-shaped repair table.
"Well?" RJ demands, more than asks.
To which Jack replies, "You were right."
With a snap of his fingers, one unmoved evil genius has a portion of the rather low ceiling pop open, from which a monitor then lowers into the small room. Nothing but its screen and a single bulb hanging from the ceiling alight the space, revealing closed toolboxes upon the repair table's arms and cables wound tight around hanging hooks on gray-metal walls.
Robo-Jack moves to sit and watch the black screen display a feint yellow trail. It's a fast-moving one, too, and was made even harder for T-Bot to detect from so high up by it overlapping with stronger sources of mysticism that also overlapped with each other.
Thus, Jack had T-Bot lower its altitude and circle the oddity at wide range.
Nothing else proved of interest for one of the otherwise two-hour search, so he figured why not have T-Bot test other methods of detection whilst it closed in? Not like anything important was going on. Plus, then he wouldn't have gotten to stare a hole into the monitor when it finally showed Dojo's blip – of all things – to be the carrier of the source.
Otherwise, they'd still only found–
"–something," Jack says.
His arms cross. "That's all we have."
RJ glares at the screen's displaying of one feint yellow blip on one frame, and a solid yellow-green one on the other.
The graphs focus. Enlarge via T-Bot closing in further.
Soon, the weak magic is more apparent. A more distinct light-yellow, past the dullened blips of the losers and their Wu…
It looks to be about…
…
In the dragon's head…?
Jack blinks. Does so two, three, four-
Shaking his head, the evil genius loses all awe in favor of a dull stare.
Robo-Jack, however, puts aside all files related to a certain soup.
Dojo's a big dragon. Fifteen-hundred years old, if sources (Chameleon-Bot) are to be trusted, and direly rare to boot.
'The only other known of is that snake oil salesman,' RJ processes.
"And there they are," Jack mutters.
T-Bot's latest scan confirmed it. The screen shows perfectly the slight mysticism. Perhaps its light yellow flickers now and then, but it is there.
Found.
The evil duo snicker quietly.
"We'll need him for Chase anyways."
Though still smiling, Jack raises a brow at his creation. "Oh now you agree? Peh," he snorts, "Sure. Right after he burns us to smithereens."
A calm RJ stands beside the deadpanning evil genius, giving not him, but the monitor its attention.
"It is the evil thing to do," the robot points out.
At which Jack shrugs a shoulder and smiles a measure.
"Yeah…"
Though once he's also watching the losers' blips suddenly remain in place, with no discernible purpose whatsoever, the evil genius finds himself smirking a bit.
As does RJ.
"Typical."
This is why he still doesn't know how, exactly, to get one's lost chi back from the Ying-Yang World. All Jack's sure of is that both Yo-Yos are needed for safe travel coming back. A feat that will require facing Omi and Chase for their Yo-Yo.
Scary.
'But, that being said…'
The evil genius's eyes roll toward RJ.
'Tests are going well...'
Robo-Jack's performance, like every other tried weapon, has proven destructive in the fields of evil.
'If unpredictably at times…'
Yet his mind wanders (again). Remembers his last conversation with one hick of a loser.
Raggedly, Jack sighs.
'On to another losing battle.'
Time away from lightning and thunder – violence in general – has done Dojo good. He's gotten an underground fire going with Clay's help and is now getting a pot of bacon and beans lowered into the hole.
Clay and Kimiko have been eyeing the stuff ever since Dojo pulled the can out.
It's soon bubbling… aroma spreading…
Hearing sudden sniffing to his left, Dojo peers over his shoulder just in time to see Raimundo wake up.
The dragon chuckles. 'Never fails.'
Dojo's head tilts up, though, when two of Clay's fingers suddenly fall on his shoulder.
Clay's somber expression has him confused as Kimiko, until he says, "We've got company."
Standing from earthen seats Clay previously arose, the two of them look into the dark void of the forest.
Thinking quick, the girl digs into a sac of Wu, producing the Falcons Eye in a moment's time.
Placing it over her eye, she whispers its name.
Seeing her frown, Dojo asks, "What? Is it Spicer?"
Her sour expression certainly says it i-
"Yeah… And all his robots, too…"
Yawning, Raimundo stands aside Kimiko, wiping at his left eye and groaning, "Ugh… I just had to wake up now, didn't I?" The Brazilian teenager sighs, crossing his arms afterward. "How long?"
How long before Jack shows up and starts running that mouth of his.
Undoubtedly, their situation will have him more obnoxious than ev-
"Not long enough," Kimiko grouses in kind, "but if he keeps moving like a slug-"
"Twenty minutes, give 'er take," Clay judges, having just gotten a quick feel for the Earth ahead. "Think he's givin' us time?"
An annoyed noise comes from Kimiko. "Kinda would rather he didn't know you can do that, Clay."
The cowboy shrugs. "Kinda inevitable, don't ya think?"
The Dragon of Wind squints. "Then we'll just have to learn what he and his robots can do, too."
"Yeah, not liking our odds in that game," Kimiko comments dryly.
She counts four Guards and seventeen Jack-Bots incoming.
Not to mention the robot smiling like a shark next to its creator, seeming to glare right at her.
"Ah, it can't be that bad," Rai hopes more than anything.
Without a word, Kimiko passes him the Wu so he can take a Falcon's Eye look.
Though her face is rather deadpan, the girl does smile with some humor when Raimundo's hopes are shattered to pieces, so deep and dreading is his sudden long face.
"Okay. I stand corrected."
"Mind if I take a gander?" Clay asks.
Belatedly, Raimundo realizes Clay probably couldn't feel the Jack-Bots with his method of detection.
"Go for it." He tosses Clay the Wu.
The cowboy brings the artifact to his eye, activating it with a whisper of its name.
He frowns more deeply, seeming then to knock something around in his head.
"…We could just take the help."
"While it lasts, you mean," Kimiko says.
Raimundo's half a mind to ask Clay if it was really that enjoyable last time, but considering who caused that alliance to be made in the first place…
"… Fine. But I don't trust him."
"Heh, who does?" Dojo quips with little humor whilst he stirs the beans.
Either way, 'Something has to change. This can't keep going on.'
Not if they're going to win.
Or his children, survive.
Their arrival is as expected as they figured it to be ever since Clay had himself a feel of the land. The evil duo and robotic co walk upon three losers sat upon small stacks of Earth risen from the ground, them surrounding what looks like beans being stirred in a pot by Dojo over an underground fire.
It smells good. Bacon, perhaps?
Rice immediately occurs, but, looking around, the evil genius sees no second fire going.
He blinks.
"You here for the beans, Spicer, or do you actually have something to say?"
Earning Jack's eyes, Raimundo tacks on, "'Cuz you're not getting any."
The evil genius raises a brow.
'South America, eh?'
Well, for this, he doesn't need to fly in the loser's head to figure out if it'll work.
Instead, he pulls out a small shovel, with RJ doing the same from its own trench coat, and walks alongside RJ over to a further away portion of dirt to dig their own hole.
Perplexed, the monks watch the evil duo kneel down and put their entrenchment tools to use.
"That's fine," Jack mutters.
They continue digging.
The monks stare.
"Did you… find something…?" Clay ventures.
Half-way through their work, Jack says, "Dojo has an unidentified Wu on himself."
The dragon didn't think himself able to be any more perplexed than he is, but here it is happening.
"Excuse me?"
"Not just yet," Jack replies, measuring the depth of his hole with his shovel. Then the width. Which, after shoving his shovel into the ground a few more times, he's got as wide as he needs.
"See," Sticking his hands in, he brings the remaining excess dirt toward himself, out of a perfect two by one-point-five foot hole, "I need to know whether what you've got on you matters or not."
Looking to RJ's smaller hole, the evil genius maneuvers on his knees to be next to that one, instead. It's about a foot away from his larger one, and not as deep, allowing him to jab his tool down into it at an an angle in order to tunnel a connection to his own. "So." Over and over again, he jabs his shovel into dirt. "If you could size up." Until at last he can lay upon the ground; reach into the hole, then through the tunnel; and have his hand sprout from the other end. "That'd be great."
Just to give the finger to one Loser of Wind.
The monk squints, Jack snickering before retracting his arm and standing to dust himself off.
"Charmin' as ever," the cowboy drawls, he and Kimiko blinking dully for Jack's beckoning over of three Jack-Bots.
Clay's almost certain his words weren't heard. The varmint never even looks his way. He just mutters something to his robotic clone, watches with a smirk when three Jack-Bots are flying off into the forest, and then turns a more flat, yet amused, version of the expression on Dojo.
"So, you sizing up or what, Dojo?"
"Well if that's all," the dragon quips.
Crossing his arms, Dojo remains with a deadpan stare directed at Jack as he sizes up, wrapping his body around his monks with them ultimately looking over his tail end at Spicer and his robots.
"Thank you," Jack says.
Eyes narrowing, the dragon mutters, "You're welcome," head following the genius's sudden leftward walk.
Jack raises his brows; a short, yet poignant rumble in his throat sounding before he drops his goggles over unimpressed red eyes. "You know," the evil genius muses aloud, "you losers really need to chill out."
"Why, because you're here?" Rai drawls.
A snort leaves the Dragon of Fire. "Cute."
Staring, Jack blinks… then narrows his eyes at the monks Dojo's body is loosely wrapped around.
'Are… Are they trying to get me to point out what I've done so far…?'
He glares.
'Because that. is not. happening.'
"Okay, I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot – which I don't mind!" He's sure to point that out the moment they seem even remotely ready to spout some kind of angry rebuttal. "But now is not the time."
'Rather, I don't have time for that.'
Some people here actually have a little vision.
And, unfortunately, PandaBubba ain't the one they're trying to topple over.
"Well then," Dojo says, "maybe you could, oh I don't know, move this along?"
"Well maybe if you'd asked," Jack replies with no less snark, "I would have told you it's in your left ear." His goggles go back over his forehead.
"Much obliged, Jack," comes Clay's crisp reply, "There by chance anything else you wanna tell us while you're here?"
Jack blinks, smirk vanishing. "Y-" With owlish eyes, he blinks like one too. "You actually wanna hear it…?"
While the reaction is a measure puzzling to the cowboy, his rather flat frown remains firm as stone. Kimiko knows her reply and thus keeps her disdain a silent one, with Rai doing the same on the other side of the cowboy who's only reaction is to blink before saying, "If it would help."
Likewise, Jack blinks, but also tilts his head, before righting it and replying, "Okay. I have an idea for how to break into Chase's lair."
"Oh yeeeaah," Raimundo drawls, "'cuz we're gonna buy that again."
First, Jack's rather surprised.
Then, annoyed.
"Well why didn't you say you thought of something already?" He crosses his arms.
Blinking, Raimundo's suddenly at a loss for words for Jack's apparent expectancy.
Though what really throws him for a loop is his friends giving him similar, if gentler, looks.
Even worse, Dojo then finishes digging out the Wu in his ear with his pinky.
"There! Got it!"
And… there's the other Yo-Yo… covered in ear-wax…
When his gaze returns to Spicer, it's with a sour glare. One that gains a sharper squint for Spicer's seemingly genuine interest.
Those red eyes suddenly narrow in return, though.
"Oh I see. I'm not included in it." He turns his head, nose in the air. "Fine. Be that way." Turning around, he walks and talks. "Later lo-"
"Now wait just a second, Spicer," Dojo says, a little surprised by the evil genius actually stopping, "you can't seriously expect us to just follow your lead after what you pulled at the lake."
Rolling his eyes, Jack turns around with a bored expression on his face. "And why is that, Dojo?"
"Because you don't tell us everything. You leave us in the dark and expect us to just be okay with it; well, we're not, so either work with us or don't, Spicer. No more games."
The demand has some force to it, blowing at Jack Spicer's trench coat and hair whilst he meets the dragon's hard stare in kind.
Though the boredom is soon returning, even if it's with thought this time.
'Well, I guess I should have expected this…' Way too evil to ever be trusted. Duh. 'Although I just can't wait to see where this is going…'
Whatever. He'll deal with it.
"...You got a magic deal-making process or something, Dojo?"
The dragon's frown pulls further down.
Red eyes sharpen, Dojo blinking before one now also unhappy evil genius.
"As a matter of fact," the dragon says, "I do."
"And what would that be?"
Hard reds glare into the dragon's somber gaze.
"Lóng Zhī Dǔjú."
A pause.
"…Uh-huh," prompts one again-bored evil genius whilst nodding oh so slowly and wheeling a hand.
Dojo's frown turns upside down.
"You haven't heard of it."
So tart, Jack suddenly is.
"No."
"Hmph. You wouldn't have."
The knowing tone does not, however, sharpen the boy's expression. Instead, it plasters an evil smirk upon Jack's face…
"Uh-huh. Keep going, Dojo, you're doing great."
The tick Jack sees form over the dragon's forehead only makes crooked his smirk.
"Pfft…" The Dragon of Fire shakes her head.
Dryly, Dojo then says, "Right."
He blinks away his annoyance, though, turning somber again.
"Well, back in the old days, when Wuya and Hannibal were still at large, we had a little problem with the latter making his move for power. You see, Hannibal wasn't happy with how the scales were tipping more favorably for us, and with his and Wuya's rivalry still going nowhere, he could see the writing on the wall."
"Soon enough, he was growing desperate. The witch wasn't gonna help him, and nothing he'd been throwing our way was sticking."
'Though there were a few close calls...'
Nonetheless, the thought's banishment is swift, shadowy memories leaving with it.
"Long story short, we needed a sure-fire way to work alongside our enemies when circumstance came knocking on our doors."
The analogy paints agitation right back upon Jack's face.
"Try 'pounding'," Jack corrects.
They're all lucky he didn't just outright blow sky-high right from the get-go, 'damnit…'
"And while I may not know what your little gamble entails, Dojo, I do know our chance of winning isn't going up by the second."
RJ comes over to stand next to its creator, cold optics closing and its arms crossing.
Jack's half a mind to reiterate his wish for a faster pace to the conversation, but his mouth remains quiet, instead adopting a rather neutral expression.
"Yeah, well you sure took your time getting here, Spicer," Kimiko drawls. "What happened, Chase interrupt something?"
Whilst the other boys snicker, the evil genius's expression gains a rather exasperated nature to it. His black eyebrows lie flat atop his red eyes, the line that is his mouth seeming quite tight to the temple dragon.
But, rather remarkably, he stays quiet, so Dojo reaches into a pocket somewhere along the mid-section of his long, scaly body. Jack's too perplexed by the act to really take note of the location with any precision, though the scroll Dojo pulls out looks appropriately foreboding.
The rollers are with handles shaped as snarling dragon-heads on one side, and a gentler set on the other. A pure white colors the calmer half of the roller, whilst the angry matches all that the underground campfires cannot enlighten.
The scroll's opening reveals a scaled paper, not unlike a refinement of shed scales, upon which is displayed a towering mountain. Its base lie shrouded in clouds, only its upper half visible. At its apex sprouts a single banzai tree, rays from a bright sun casting its and the mountain's shadow across one half of the scroll, whilst enlightening the other.
Yet, there lie a splotch of light and dark within their contrary realms, both with a green scale lodged into the center.
"Here's the deal, Spicer," Dojo says, "Until natural order is restored, neither you nor your robots will, of your own accords, act against the Xiaolin Order." He squints at the evil genius. "That includes using this disaster to further future plans, too, by the way."
Spicer quirks a brow, looking not amused. "I don't suppose that's a two-way street?"
"That would be the gist of it, yes," Dojo gripes. "Any other smart guesses, Spicer?"
The question has the goth's brows raising practically to his hairline.
"Never-mind," Dojo deadpans, "Ideally, the gambit ends in a white peace; however, should either signee break the contract, they will be forced to switch alliances, forever to serve their enemy's means."
The evil genius says nothing. Just waits.
Onward, then.
"All we have to do, following a little prep work, is make contact with our respective scales, state our promised ends of the deal, and the contract will bind us to it via a mystical imprint."
And just like that, Jack finds himself frowning yet again.
"Mystical imprint…?"
"Yeah." Dojo shrugs. "It won't hurt or anything, if that's what you're worried about."
"Uh, no," Jack gripes, "more the fact that I'll be a source of magic." His annoyance shifts into a neutral consideration, though. "But I guess I don't have a choice, huh?"
"Spicer," echoes a smooth, baritone voice from the ever-shifting clouds above, "you really haven't changed, have you?"
Sensors in every robot blare, Jack's watch rumbling as all lift shocked eyes to the hellish heavens above, where the clouds are taking on the form of one towering Chase Young.
He's cut off at the waist when fully formed, a smirk on his face and his arms crossed.
"Still so quick to jump ship when the tides have changed. Had you presented yourself with some dignity, I may have been open to an offer." His expression tightens a measure. "But then, you've always lacked in tact, haven't you?"
Seeing the evil genius's wide-eyed surprise to still be slowly fading, true annoyance pinches at the warlord's expression. "Here's my offer, Spicer. Kill the monks and their dragon, and I will take you on as one of my first apprentices in the wake of my new world order."
Gritting his teeth, Dojo bares them to one seemingly considerate Jack, serpentine body wrapping more properly around the tense forms of his kids, one of which already has her hands alight with flames.
Not that Jack takes notice. His eyes remain on the manifestation of Chase residing in the cloudy sky.
"Uh… huh…" Jack mutters. "And I'm gonna believe this… why again…?"
The intense stare that earns from Chase strikes quite the trepidation within him, the evil genius unable to help a somewhat sheepish smile.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, I mean…" Jack makes a face, sighs with sudden exasperation, and then turns to Dojo. "Dojo, do you swear on your position as Temple Guardian that you've told me everything there is to know about The Dragon's Gambit, itself, no lies at all?"
Dojo's brow knits. "Umm… I kinda don't have a temple to guard any-"
A pointed stare puts his speech on hold.
"I-I mean, yes, of course I do. I'd never lie about that. It's been a sacred-"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, thanks," Jack quickly assures, before right away lifting his gaze back to Chase. "See? Promised and everything. Nothing I can do."
"Is that so?" The question smiles.
He's practically a signee already, so Jack just shrugs in response, doing his best to not be intimidated by the dark smirk now spreading across Chase's big face…
The evil challenge is obvious.
Making fists of his hands, Jack tightens them, ignoring how his every hair stands on end so he can arises to it, his smirk sharper, darker, and certainly smarter. "So maybe you should worry about yourself, Loser Young, and enjoy those dots on your disgrace-of-a-face while they last." The evil genius crosses his arms, chuckling as he says, "'Cuz trust me, Omi wears the jieba better, naive little loser that he is."
Lowering his head, Dojo mutters, "Can you keep the insults on our enemies, please?"
Leaning toward the dragon, Jack whispers through his teeth, "Quiet, Dojo - I'm workin' here."
That done, he awaits with a shallow smile what Chase's grand reply will be.
But the man's face is losing its amusement, now, turning impassive instead.
Not something Jack wishes to see. Not at all. He can only guess at what sinister plans are coming together behind the cold, slitted pupils of this larger-than-life opponent.
At what he has perhaps let slip…
Even worse, the warlord seems to reach an agreeable conclusion, because he's then wearing the most sinister of feint smiles Jack's ever seen.
One that, ever slowly, the warlord turns on Dojo's hard glare, making the animal's expression gain rows of sharp teeth. Yet the man's expression only turns to a vile knowing. A striking, yet almost pitying look that the dragon crumbles just so under.
"I'll be waiting."
Cryptic. Calm.
Ready.
There's ample time to give a thumbs up before Chase can end whatever spell he's got going on, but it makes no difference. The warlord's smile remains, his manifestation merely turning to dark gray before rejoining with the rest of the flowing clouds above.
Still, Jack lets out a happy sigh, planting fists on his hips. "Well that went well." He turns to Dojo. "Don't you think?"
"That depends," Dojo deadpans, "are we measuring success by how angry you've made him?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"… Dude, he already hates you," Raimundo points out from where Dojo's winded body is loosening up around. "H'you do know that, right?"
Jack makes a face at the Brazilian. "Yeah…? So do you guys… What of it…?"
He's not too sure why stating the obvious has the monks suddenly leveling him with deadpan stares, but what really throws him for a loop is Dojo's… disturbed somberness…?
"Gee, I wonder why," Kimiko says.
"Couldn't be all the scheming and betraying," Raimundo says with utmost sarcasm.
"Or the stolen Wu," Clay then tacks on.
All of which arise a rather nice smile upon the evil genius's face.
For a moment anyways, before a sudden silence takes over.
'Well don't stop there… I've done more than just that… I would think…'
Yet it is not to be.
Fine.
"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Jack finally says.
Though the topic is growing a bit… (just minorly, that is)… awkward… by the second…
Mostly because of the dragon-head in his peripheral that seems to only be tightening that grim line his mouth is set into.
Thus, a return to brass tax is in order.
"Now, Dojo," Jack says, turning to face him again and fortunately finding a schooled expression, "I believe we were about to sign The Dragon's Gambit before Mister I-Wanna-Be-A-Real-One interrupted us."
"Yeah… We were."
Why he seems to have a problem, Jack has half a mind to ask, but he feels it better that he just stare back at the dragon, only growing boreder by the second before Dojo finally turns to speak to his kids.
"Clay, would you mind making us a table?"
"None at all. Any particular locale?"
"Under Spicer maybe?" Rai suggests
The joke may make him snicker, may make Kimiko do so, too, even Clay with a jesting smile on his face, but for one temple dragon, it's merely the final straw.
"Enough," Dojo barks.
The monks all straighten, Raimundo most of all.
Spicer may not have much reaction to it other than to lift his brows a bit, but Dojo's not about to let him just stand there, either.
"That includes you, too, Jack."
And then those black brows are flat atop Jack's eyes.
Raggedly, the evil genius sighs. "Fine. I'll play nice as long as everyone else does, too." It's a free alibi anyways. He just doesn't look forward to its constant reiteration is all…
"Fair enough," Dojo says.
"And you three?" the dragon then asks of his kids.
A lengthy groan leaves two of three monks, Clay merely frowning for what's obviously to come.
Miffed, Dojo blows a plume of smoke from his nose.
They all straighten up, sure, but the sheepish attempt at smiles that Kimiko and Rai adapt are not what he was hoping for… And though Clay's somber frown is better, there are cracks in the Dragon of Earth's stalwart stand. A trembling that cannot hide from ancient eyes.
Turning back to Jack, the dragon asks him, "Can we have a moment?"
He blinks, quirking a brow right after. "Can it come after we make the deal?"
Having expected at least a hint of sarcasm, the pleasant tone employed throws Dojo for a bit of a loop.
"Uh… sure. I don't see why not." He points with his free hand for the ground in front of himself. "Here is fine, Clay."
"Alright…" the cowboy murmurs.
A saying of his element, a stomp of his foot, a little traveling of chi along the Earth, and a flat sheet of the ground pops up as a perfectly square surface for Dojo to lay the large scroll upon.
"Thank you."
"Don' mention it, Dojo." Amicable as always.
The dragon smiles fondly. A soft, sad smile, body warming with pride.
In other words, the very last thing Jack Spicer ever wants to see.
The shuddering evil genius can't look back to the scroll fast enough.
'This is gonna be a loooong apocalypse…'
That being thought, his attention is brought back to Dojo by the dragon taking a sudden long and deep breath of air. The beast's belly grows two, three, almost four sizes larger, before Dojo lifts a hand before himself, its talons spread apart and pointed for the sky.
Breathing out, Dojo spews a long stream of hissing, then crackling and popping flames over keratin, vermillion interest watching from the ground. What a fantastic show of power it is. How searing hot, almost all of the flame's red hue shifting to a pure white. The glow of Dojo's talons burn to a bright shine, though it is clearly not enough, because the dragon merely keeps spewing his flame and having the glow go down his scaly fingers, too.
All without the slightest show of pain. Only focus. Control.
'Awesome...'
A somber frown on his face, Dojo cuts off the flame and flips his hand over, widening the spread of his digits as he brings searing talons down upon the outside of the scroll's depicted sun, where his glowing talons reveal there to be kanji before making contact.
Pressing, Dojo has a gentle blue flame sprouting from the scaled paper. For nine seconds, RJ observes from beside Jack as the dragon maintain this contact, raising fiery claws from the burning Kanji for the first five of the nine Sons of the Dragon.
Folding his thumb, Dojo this time presses four talons to the scroll, maintaining contact for nine seconds, before lifting them to reveal the last four sons' kanji burning strong.
The Nine surround the sun.
Dojo makes a fist of his hand. Tightens it, pressing hard his glowing talons to his palm. Until at last, his scales there are glowing a white-hot red, too. Only then does he open his hand, pressing then his palm to the center of the sun.
Nine seconds pass.
His hand lifts.
There, at the sun's center, burns a larger kanji.
The kanji for Confusianism.
A legal system, enforced by the Nine.
'Clever beasts…'
Too bad that, much like himself, they're a little too smart. Too important in these time.
Essential, even.
Right now is only proof.
Coming to stand more closely beside Dojo's abdominal portion, the teen stands before the large scroll, Dojo to his left, and RJ still standing more on their end of the gathering, next to where he'd been.
The dragon reaches to press his claw to his respective scale.
Jack does the same with his palm.
'…'
Dojo gets started saying his half of the agreement.
"I, Dojo Konojo Cho, swear that, until natural order is restored," Jack's neutral face remains toward his hand upon the scroll and dragon scale, "none among the Xiaolin Order will, of their own accords, act against you or your robots." But his eyes have been unable to help a subtle stare at the big dragon hand to his left.
He blinks. Turns his eyes back ahead. And runs his mouth through the words.
"And I, Jack Spicer, swear that, until natural order is restored, neither my robots or I will, of our own accords, act against the Xiaolin Order."
The scroll suddenly shines.
Jack shields his eyes with his other arm, Dojo merely squinting before the intense brightness.
"Don't move your hand," Jack hears Dojo command.
"I'm no-"
Tensing, Jack feels something run along his flesh. A warm sort of sensation, it not particularly unpleasant for much other than the suddenness of it.
The slithering warmth fades.
The flash of the scroll dies down next.
Jack lowers one arm, then raises the other, pulling down the sleeve of his trench coat in order to fully see two black dragon-heads winding up his flesh.
They're familiar. A look at the scroll shows that they are indeed the same as the angry handles on his end of the scroll.
Smiling, he eyes the mystical tattoo again.
"Pretty sick, Dojo," the evil genius murmurs.
"Yeah," Dojo replies, "Now can I get a moment with my kids? It's kind of important."
Jack shrugs. "Of course. I'm leaving anyways."
Though Dojo's attention is quite earned by him saying that, Jack's more interested in the white tattoo winding up the dragon's right arm.
"Wai-What?" Dojo shakes his head. "Why would leave? To do what?"
The lack of suspicion behind the question is sorely lacking in Jack's opinion, but he ignores it.
'It's just for now,' he reminds himself.
Even if already he can hear it becoming a mantra…
"It just occurred to me that I don't know enough." Jack shrugs. "Might as well do some scouting."
Dojo means to speak, but Jack does so first:
"But before that," turning to RJ, "Where is T-Bot right now?"
"Upper troposphere," Robo-Jack replies.
Jack's brow knits. "In the clouds?" he asks.
RJ nods.
Thinking/Processing, they're soon glaring at one another.
"He can feel through them," they chorus.
Jack lifts his watch. "T-bot, relocate to the upper stratosphere right now."
That done, Jack turns for the Guards and Jack-Bots, all of which are not far behind behind RJ.
"Guard-Bots. Jack-Bots. Remain with and guard the Xiaolin until I say otherwise."
The robots' red optics flash in response.
He points at one of the Guards. "You stay close to them; the rest of you, form a perimeter."
The hulking robot slumps a measure, walking over to the largest tree available to press its back to it and cross its arms whilst its brethren move toward the darkness, them soon disappearing out of sight.
All Jack can offer the Guard is a shrug and a sheepish smile.
The humor is largely lost on the monks, but a certain cowboy most of all.
"Spicer, what are you gonna do if you're wrong?" Clay more or less demands, "You'll be all on-"
"Then I'll learn I was wrong," Jack says. "Which is what we need right now, so get over it, Clay."
Hands going in his trench coat pockets, the evil genius is soon with a lazy smirk. "I'm pretty sure RJ and I can handle anything Chase might throw our way anyways. And if not, that's what the Molar-2000 is for."
"And if that fails?" asks a sour Kimiko.
Perplexed, Jack makes a face at her. "…Pretty sure you answered your own question, there."
But his expression goes blank, the girl's snort and shake of her head notwithstanding.
"Y-" An amazed pause. "You do realize that, irrespective of what we choose – especially now – we could all die, right?"
Gritting her teeth, the girl looks away from him, to the ground.
None of them, though, seem to be dealing so well with this.
Except perhaps Clay, who's mouth is set in a grim line.
Jack stares.
For a bit. At the wary losers.
Leaning toward Dojo's unhappy form, the goth murmurs, "Dojo, I wish you luck." He pats the dragon on the nearest portion of his giant self that his evil hand can reach, before turning and walking toward Robo-Jack.
"Bye, kids!" He raises a hand for the sky, dropping it after calling out, "Jacky will be backy in an hour or three."
"Don't wait up," a stoic RJ advises, before turning when Jack's at it and walking alongside its creator, toward the pitch-black of the forest.
"Wait!" Dojo calls.
The evil duo stop near the outskirts of illuminated forestry, turning expectant visages on the dragon.
"Take the Shroud of Shadows," Dojo says, "just in case you're wrong about the clouds."
Raggedly, Jack sighs. "Fine, fine. I'm already magical anyways."
The dragon smiles. Goes with the flow. "Exactly."
Turning, he prompts, "Raimundo, if you wouldn't mind."
"Alright, alright, Dojo," the teenager grumbles, looking through one bag, and then another.
Producing the Shroud, he throws it over to Jack, having the artifact ride a strong breeze that ends upon reaching Jack with the magical cloth.
The evil genius snatches it out of the air.
"Thanks."
"Sure."
Jack smiles.
'There we go.'
Turning, he exits into the darkness.
"Oh and, Dojo!" calls his voice from the void, "Don't waste the rice!"
Blinking, the dragon looks over to where the evil duo's underground fire is burning, only now noticing there's a boiling pot of rice atop it, the low water level suggesting it to be almost done.
'What a strange kid…'