Eternal Youth, Chapter 6
The most recent chapter!
The monk's did have to Showdown for the Bottle of Xian Pu, but it was against Katnappe, not Jack Spicer. However, the cat burglar did hear the monks talking about Jack's odd exit. What really caught her ear was Raimundo's suggestion that Jack had a child at home.
After suffering a humiliating defeat by the Dragon of Earth, who seemed to have gotten over his aversion to fighting girls, Katnappe headed to the Spicer estate to torment Jack and snoop. The cat-lover had been astonished to see Wuya limping away from the mansion, down one arm and her dignity.
None other than Jack Spicer stood in the ruined window watching the Heylin witch flee, with blood on his shining silver sword and murder in his cold red eyes.
Katnappe decided she didn't need to bother Jack just then.
Instead, she had gone to her own home and gotten on her computer. Within moments, the blonde ex-socialite was spreading the news on all the villain forums that Jack Spicer had just sent Wuya away missing a hand, all over a kid.
Supposedly, it was his own child.
Katnappe typed in that she didn't know that for sure, but she had heard Clay Bailey telling Kimiko Tohomiko that putting 'Our' in front of a name was an old English way of showing a family connection. Evidentially, Jack had called the kid 'Our Chase' and who else but Jack Spicer would name his kid after Chase Young?
Kimiko Tohomiko surfed through the web a few hours later and found a note on a warrior chat room that Jack Spicer had named his son after Chase Young.
She added her own two cents that the boy was living at the Spicer Estate, but she didn't know who or where the mother was. Also, Wuya had attacked the house and Jack had abandoned a Shen-Gong-Wu to fly to his son's rescue.
Within moments, Vlad posted on the villain chat that Jack Spicer had gotten some girl pregnant a few years previously and the girl had just dumped his now toddler-aged son - named after Chase Young, no less - on the evil genius and promptly disappeared.
What's more, evidently Spicer was far more ruthless in protecting his child than he had ever been in protecting himself. He had even sent Wuya away begging for her life and sans an arm.
By the time Raimundo got online and started snooping around, Jack Spicer had gathered a whole back story of betrayed love, a disgruntled girlfriend, a mostly neglected son, and now a new warrior's spirit that reared its head whenever his child was threatened.
The one sentence report of seeing Wuya flee missing an arm had exploded into an epic battle worthy of an Icelandic saga.
And Clay told Kimiko, who told Katnappe, who told Kimiko, who told Vlad, who told Tubbimura, who told Le Mime, who told Raimundo.
So you know it had to be true.
The first thing Jack realized when he awoke was that his back hurt very badly. He could feel the tight pull of skin and flesh that meant he had been given stitches. Probably Nana's handiwork; it wasn't the first time Jack had gone to his grandmother with injuries he didn't feel like explaining. Nana Spicer was good about that sort of thing, though. She had her own secrets; for all Jack knew, she was plotting to take over the world as well.
Heh, Nana Spicer, queen of the world.
The second thing Jack realized was that he was naked. Well, all right, he had needed stitches and considering where some of the injuries were, it might be wise to avoid pants for a few days. Nothing to get excited about.
The third thing Jack realized was that someone was holding his hand. That was new. The albino youth risked opening an eye.
Chase Young was in bed with him. The warlord-turned-toddler was cuddled up under the covers with him. One tiny hand had slipped under Jack's and was clinging to the middle finger. The thumb of the other hand was popped securely in Chase's mouth.
“Oh my god, that's adorable.” Jack muttered under his breath.
Chase was awake instantly. His golden eyes didn't pop open or look startled, they simply went from closed to open and just like that, Chase was awake. The shrunken warlord studied Jack's eyes. Then his gaze shifted to the hand that was clinging to Jack's finger, then finally to the one in his mouth.
Jack looked hard for an embarrassed blush, but he couldn't see one.
Chase removed his thumb from his mouth coolly, as if he did it every morning.
“Good morning, Spicer.” He greeted the young evil genius calmly.
“Morning, Chase.”
“Feeling better?”
“A bit; now my back hurts.”
“Well, that's to be expected.”
“I guess it is.”
“Mmm.”
Chase's hand was still grasping Jack's finger. Neither one made a move to change this. Jack was just waiting for Chase to snatch his hand away in abject humiliation, and Chase wasn't going to give Jack the satisfaction.
“Do you know what RJ 13 does when you're asleep?” Chase inquired, arching an eyebrow.
“Does it involve the washing machine?” Jack asked, wondering just how long Chase could keep this up.
“No.”
“Was it the vacuum cleaner again?”
“No,” Chase growled, making a disgusted face. “Let's just say, I hope your television doesn't catch anything.”
“The TV?” Jack gave a puzzled frown. “How did he-?”
“I don't know. He was plugged into it and looked far too happy to simply be accessing programs.” Chase returned. He was still a bit curious about that, but not enough to ask.
“Hmm. That's interesting.”
“So you say.”
The pair stared at each other for a few moments, then Jack let an evil grin spread across his face.
“Y'know, I fantasized about waking up naked next to you plenty of times, but this doesn't quite live up to my dreams.”
Chase's arm twitched. He wanted to pull away badly, but the shit-eating grin on Jack's face was forcing him stand his ground. Instead, Chase threw Jack his darkest glare.
“That is far more information than I ever wished to have, Spicer.”
“Hey, that's a compliment; 1,500-years-old and you're still fantasy fodder. You should be flattered.”
“It is truly difficult to take any flirtation seriously given my current state.”
“True. Plus it just feels wrong.” Groaning, Jack let go of Chase's hand and rolled out of bed with glacial slowness. “We can't all be pedophiles.” The albino youth dragged the sheet off of the bed and tied it loosely about his waist.
“I beg your pardon.” Chase snapped, sitting up sharply.
Jack ignored him, taking a leisurely hobble to the bathroom.
“What exactly were you implying by that statement?!” The shrunken warlord demanded, following Jack.
“I'm not implying anything!” Jack called out as he ran water into the sink. The pale youth splashed water up over his face and neck. “I'm inferring that you have an unhealthy attraction to a certain Twinkie-colored monk.”
Jack dried his face and looked over one shoulder. Chase was standing on the trailing edge of his sheet and glaring death up at the young man.
“See, if I said 'We can't all be magical, shape-shifting, half dragon, evil mastermind pedophiles', that would be implying.” Jack retorted.
“You are a fool, Jack Spicer!” Chase snarled. “My interest in Omi strictly concerns a merger of power and the corruption of good! It has nothing to do with sick sexual practices.”
“I've heard the way you talk to him. 'That's how it all starts, Omi'” Jack quoted, trying to ape Chase's normal mellow voice. “'A little bad here, a little lie there, a little touchy, a little feely, maybe a back rub and the next thing you know, you're playing 'Hide the Sausage' dressed like a geisha. That is true eeeevil.'”
“You. Insignificant. Idiot. I-”
“In retrospect, I guess that's why I wasn't good enough for you; I was already too big and had icky hairs.” Jack sighed. He rubbed a thoughtful hand across his chin. “Speaking of which:”
“Spicer, you aren't good enough to work with me because you are a weak-willed fool and an imbecile besides! I am not now, nor have I ever, nor will I ever be sexually attracted to children!” Chase snarled, venom dripping from his tone. The dragon toddler paused to stomp around to Jack's side, so the youth would see him.
Jack was laying out shaving implements. Chase opened his mouth to heap another mouthful of abuse on the albino.
“What are you doing?”
For a moment, Chase actually wondered who had spoken. Then he realized it had been him. Jack gave him an odd look.
“I'm . . . getting ready to shave,” The young genius answered, a bit puzzled by the random question. “Don't you shave?”
Chase felt someone shake his head back and forth.
“Really? Like, not ever?” Spicer seemed truly surprised by this.
Another shake. Chase floundered inside his own mind, trying to find the thread of control. Where was it? How had he lost it so easily?!
Little Chase climbed up on the toilet seat so he had a better view of the proceedings. Jack was giving him a suspicious look.
'Please,' Chase begged whatever gods might be listening. 'Don't let this fool realize what's happening to me.'
“What's that?” Little Chase asked, pointing to a small chrome machine that was humming away on the counter. At least he hadn't asked what the razor was, Chase thought.
“It's a hot lather machine. It heats up the shaving cream so it's . . um . . hot. It makes it easier to shave.”
“Oh.” Little Chase crossed his arms on the counter and set his chin down on them, clearly all set to watch the show of Jack shaving.
Jack fixed the shrunken warlord with a look of pure confusion. The lather machine chimed. Still eyeing Chase suspiciously, Spicer turned to his chore. Little Chase watched in rapt fascination as Jack Spicer carefully shaved his face while Real Chase raged inside of his own skull, trying desperately to unseat Little Chase's control.
'This is what big boys do.' Chase nearly shuddered at the innocence of the thought his alter-ego produced.
“Hey, you want to do me a huge favor?” Jack asked, patting his face dry with a towel.
“Sure!” Little Chase piped up immediately.
Jack blinked at him like the child had grown another head. Real Chase cringed.
“O-kay, uh, there's a flat box under my bed with a kimono in it. Could you bring it here? I don't want to wear anything with a waistband over my stitches.”
“Okay!” Little Chase jumped off the toilet and ran back into Jack's bedroom, diving under the bed and rooting around with gusto.
Jack continued to stare. What in the world had gotten into Chase? One minute he was screaming at Jack, the next he was acting like . . . .a . . . little kid. . . Oh, no way.
“Is it this black one that says 'Kyoto's finest' on top?”
“Yeah.” Jack fixed the suddenly helpful warlord with a sideways look.
Chase backed out from under the bed, dragging a flat box. Once out in the open, he flipped the lid off and grabbed two handfuls of cloth. Heedless of the way he was treating the fine silk, Chase started back towards Jack, dragging the formal kimono along the ground. A few feet away from the albino youth, Chase suddenly stopped. He blinked a few times as if he wasn't sure how he had come to be in such a position.
“Chase?” Jack's look had gone from suspicious, to confused, to concerned.
“Here's your wretched kimono! Now get out of the bathroom so that I can bathe!” Chase snarled, flinging the garment at Jack's feet. Not satisfied with the speed of Jack's compliance, the shrunken warlord got behind Jack and shoved him into the bedroom.
“All right, all right; geez, PMS much?” Jack grumbled.
Bending over gingerly, the teenager retrieved the black silk kimono from the floor, then shuffled sideways to the box and picked up the silver and black obi so he wouldn't have to bend over twice. Every muscle between his knees and his shoulder blades squealed in agony as he straightened. Jack did likewise.
With a sigh, the ablino youth put on the black kimono, carefully tying the obi in the funny knot he had learned years ago in Kyoto. The garment was merciful to his tender stitches, but a great deal shorter than he remembered.
“Or maybe - shock - I've grown some.” Jack murmured to himself.
Okay, so he was walking wounded and Chase was developing a split personality. It could be worse. At least he still had all his arms and legs. A wave of nausea roiled through him as he remembered the fight with Wuya.
Wow. He had beat Wuya.
Him.
Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius.
Although . . . . maybe he should drop the 'Boy' part, Jack reflected, rubbing his freshly-shaved chin. When he had first met Wuya and the monks, shaving had been something he'd had to do once every two weeks or so, and even then, he had barely had peach fuzz. Now if he didn't shave at least every three days, he looked like Dr. House.
Plus he turned eighteen in a few months.
Jack left his room when he heard the shower start. He carefully headed down to the kitchen, trying not to move too much. Man . . . who knew a fight resulting in life-altering damage could make you so hungry? He'd have one of the JackBots make waffles. And maybe some sausage. Then he could have sausage links with maple syrup drizzled over the top of them. Oh, yeah, that sounded good.
Jack pushed open the kitchen door.
He barely had time to let out a startled shout before something crashed into his chest with the force of a sledgehammer.
The monk's did have to Showdown for the Bottle of Xian Pu, but it was against Katnappe, not Jack Spicer. However, the cat burglar did hear the monks talking about Jack's odd exit. What really caught her ear was Raimundo's suggestion that Jack had a child at home.
After suffering a humiliating defeat by the Dragon of Earth, who seemed to have gotten over his aversion to fighting girls, Katnappe headed to the Spicer estate to torment Jack and snoop. The cat-lover had been astonished to see Wuya limping away from the mansion, down one arm and her dignity.
None other than Jack Spicer stood in the ruined window watching the Heylin witch flee, with blood on his shining silver sword and murder in his cold red eyes.
Katnappe decided she didn't need to bother Jack just then.
Instead, she had gone to her own home and gotten on her computer. Within moments, the blonde ex-socialite was spreading the news on all the villain forums that Jack Spicer had just sent Wuya away missing a hand, all over a kid.
Supposedly, it was his own child.
Katnappe typed in that she didn't know that for sure, but she had heard Clay Bailey telling Kimiko Tohomiko that putting 'Our' in front of a name was an old English way of showing a family connection. Evidentially, Jack had called the kid 'Our Chase' and who else but Jack Spicer would name his kid after Chase Young?
Kimiko Tohomiko surfed through the web a few hours later and found a note on a warrior chat room that Jack Spicer had named his son after Chase Young.
She added her own two cents that the boy was living at the Spicer Estate, but she didn't know who or where the mother was. Also, Wuya had attacked the house and Jack had abandoned a Shen-Gong-Wu to fly to his son's rescue.
Within moments, Vlad posted on the villain chat that Jack Spicer had gotten some girl pregnant a few years previously and the girl had just dumped his now toddler-aged son - named after Chase Young, no less - on the evil genius and promptly disappeared.
What's more, evidently Spicer was far more ruthless in protecting his child than he had ever been in protecting himself. He had even sent Wuya away begging for her life and sans an arm.
By the time Raimundo got online and started snooping around, Jack Spicer had gathered a whole back story of betrayed love, a disgruntled girlfriend, a mostly neglected son, and now a new warrior's spirit that reared its head whenever his child was threatened.
The one sentence report of seeing Wuya flee missing an arm had exploded into an epic battle worthy of an Icelandic saga.
And Clay told Kimiko, who told Katnappe, who told Kimiko, who told Vlad, who told Tubbimura, who told Le Mime, who told Raimundo.
So you know it had to be true.
The first thing Jack realized when he awoke was that his back hurt very badly. He could feel the tight pull of skin and flesh that meant he had been given stitches. Probably Nana's handiwork; it wasn't the first time Jack had gone to his grandmother with injuries he didn't feel like explaining. Nana Spicer was good about that sort of thing, though. She had her own secrets; for all Jack knew, she was plotting to take over the world as well.
Heh, Nana Spicer, queen of the world.
The second thing Jack realized was that he was naked. Well, all right, he had needed stitches and considering where some of the injuries were, it might be wise to avoid pants for a few days. Nothing to get excited about.
The third thing Jack realized was that someone was holding his hand. That was new. The albino youth risked opening an eye.
Chase Young was in bed with him. The warlord-turned-toddler was cuddled up under the covers with him. One tiny hand had slipped under Jack's and was clinging to the middle finger. The thumb of the other hand was popped securely in Chase's mouth.
“Oh my god, that's adorable.” Jack muttered under his breath.
Chase was awake instantly. His golden eyes didn't pop open or look startled, they simply went from closed to open and just like that, Chase was awake. The shrunken warlord studied Jack's eyes. Then his gaze shifted to the hand that was clinging to Jack's finger, then finally to the one in his mouth.
Jack looked hard for an embarrassed blush, but he couldn't see one.
Chase removed his thumb from his mouth coolly, as if he did it every morning.
“Good morning, Spicer.” He greeted the young evil genius calmly.
“Morning, Chase.”
“Feeling better?”
“A bit; now my back hurts.”
“Well, that's to be expected.”
“I guess it is.”
“Mmm.”
Chase's hand was still grasping Jack's finger. Neither one made a move to change this. Jack was just waiting for Chase to snatch his hand away in abject humiliation, and Chase wasn't going to give Jack the satisfaction.
“Do you know what RJ 13 does when you're asleep?” Chase inquired, arching an eyebrow.
“Does it involve the washing machine?” Jack asked, wondering just how long Chase could keep this up.
“No.”
“Was it the vacuum cleaner again?”
“No,” Chase growled, making a disgusted face. “Let's just say, I hope your television doesn't catch anything.”
“The TV?” Jack gave a puzzled frown. “How did he-?”
“I don't know. He was plugged into it and looked far too happy to simply be accessing programs.” Chase returned. He was still a bit curious about that, but not enough to ask.
“Hmm. That's interesting.”
“So you say.”
The pair stared at each other for a few moments, then Jack let an evil grin spread across his face.
“Y'know, I fantasized about waking up naked next to you plenty of times, but this doesn't quite live up to my dreams.”
Chase's arm twitched. He wanted to pull away badly, but the shit-eating grin on Jack's face was forcing him stand his ground. Instead, Chase threw Jack his darkest glare.
“That is far more information than I ever wished to have, Spicer.”
“Hey, that's a compliment; 1,500-years-old and you're still fantasy fodder. You should be flattered.”
“It is truly difficult to take any flirtation seriously given my current state.”
“True. Plus it just feels wrong.” Groaning, Jack let go of Chase's hand and rolled out of bed with glacial slowness. “We can't all be pedophiles.” The albino youth dragged the sheet off of the bed and tied it loosely about his waist.
“I beg your pardon.” Chase snapped, sitting up sharply.
Jack ignored him, taking a leisurely hobble to the bathroom.
“What exactly were you implying by that statement?!” The shrunken warlord demanded, following Jack.
“I'm not implying anything!” Jack called out as he ran water into the sink. The pale youth splashed water up over his face and neck. “I'm inferring that you have an unhealthy attraction to a certain Twinkie-colored monk.”
Jack dried his face and looked over one shoulder. Chase was standing on the trailing edge of his sheet and glaring death up at the young man.
“See, if I said 'We can't all be magical, shape-shifting, half dragon, evil mastermind pedophiles', that would be implying.” Jack retorted.
“You are a fool, Jack Spicer!” Chase snarled. “My interest in Omi strictly concerns a merger of power and the corruption of good! It has nothing to do with sick sexual practices.”
“I've heard the way you talk to him. 'That's how it all starts, Omi'” Jack quoted, trying to ape Chase's normal mellow voice. “'A little bad here, a little lie there, a little touchy, a little feely, maybe a back rub and the next thing you know, you're playing 'Hide the Sausage' dressed like a geisha. That is true eeeevil.'”
“You. Insignificant. Idiot. I-”
“In retrospect, I guess that's why I wasn't good enough for you; I was already too big and had icky hairs.” Jack sighed. He rubbed a thoughtful hand across his chin. “Speaking of which:”
“Spicer, you aren't good enough to work with me because you are a weak-willed fool and an imbecile besides! I am not now, nor have I ever, nor will I ever be sexually attracted to children!” Chase snarled, venom dripping from his tone. The dragon toddler paused to stomp around to Jack's side, so the youth would see him.
Jack was laying out shaving implements. Chase opened his mouth to heap another mouthful of abuse on the albino.
“What are you doing?”
For a moment, Chase actually wondered who had spoken. Then he realized it had been him. Jack gave him an odd look.
“I'm . . . getting ready to shave,” The young genius answered, a bit puzzled by the random question. “Don't you shave?”
Chase felt someone shake his head back and forth.
“Really? Like, not ever?” Spicer seemed truly surprised by this.
Another shake. Chase floundered inside his own mind, trying to find the thread of control. Where was it? How had he lost it so easily?!
Little Chase climbed up on the toilet seat so he had a better view of the proceedings. Jack was giving him a suspicious look.
'Please,' Chase begged whatever gods might be listening. 'Don't let this fool realize what's happening to me.'
“What's that?” Little Chase asked, pointing to a small chrome machine that was humming away on the counter. At least he hadn't asked what the razor was, Chase thought.
“It's a hot lather machine. It heats up the shaving cream so it's . . um . . hot. It makes it easier to shave.”
“Oh.” Little Chase crossed his arms on the counter and set his chin down on them, clearly all set to watch the show of Jack shaving.
Jack fixed the shrunken warlord with a look of pure confusion. The lather machine chimed. Still eyeing Chase suspiciously, Spicer turned to his chore. Little Chase watched in rapt fascination as Jack Spicer carefully shaved his face while Real Chase raged inside of his own skull, trying desperately to unseat Little Chase's control.
'This is what big boys do.' Chase nearly shuddered at the innocence of the thought his alter-ego produced.
“Hey, you want to do me a huge favor?” Jack asked, patting his face dry with a towel.
“Sure!” Little Chase piped up immediately.
Jack blinked at him like the child had grown another head. Real Chase cringed.
“O-kay, uh, there's a flat box under my bed with a kimono in it. Could you bring it here? I don't want to wear anything with a waistband over my stitches.”
“Okay!” Little Chase jumped off the toilet and ran back into Jack's bedroom, diving under the bed and rooting around with gusto.
Jack continued to stare. What in the world had gotten into Chase? One minute he was screaming at Jack, the next he was acting like . . . .a . . . little kid. . . Oh, no way.
“Is it this black one that says 'Kyoto's finest' on top?”
“Yeah.” Jack fixed the suddenly helpful warlord with a sideways look.
Chase backed out from under the bed, dragging a flat box. Once out in the open, he flipped the lid off and grabbed two handfuls of cloth. Heedless of the way he was treating the fine silk, Chase started back towards Jack, dragging the formal kimono along the ground. A few feet away from the albino youth, Chase suddenly stopped. He blinked a few times as if he wasn't sure how he had come to be in such a position.
“Chase?” Jack's look had gone from suspicious, to confused, to concerned.
“Here's your wretched kimono! Now get out of the bathroom so that I can bathe!” Chase snarled, flinging the garment at Jack's feet. Not satisfied with the speed of Jack's compliance, the shrunken warlord got behind Jack and shoved him into the bedroom.
“All right, all right; geez, PMS much?” Jack grumbled.
Bending over gingerly, the teenager retrieved the black silk kimono from the floor, then shuffled sideways to the box and picked up the silver and black obi so he wouldn't have to bend over twice. Every muscle between his knees and his shoulder blades squealed in agony as he straightened. Jack did likewise.
With a sigh, the ablino youth put on the black kimono, carefully tying the obi in the funny knot he had learned years ago in Kyoto. The garment was merciful to his tender stitches, but a great deal shorter than he remembered.
“Or maybe - shock - I've grown some.” Jack murmured to himself.
Okay, so he was walking wounded and Chase was developing a split personality. It could be worse. At least he still had all his arms and legs. A wave of nausea roiled through him as he remembered the fight with Wuya.
Wow. He had beat Wuya.
Him.
Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius.
Although . . . . maybe he should drop the 'Boy' part, Jack reflected, rubbing his freshly-shaved chin. When he had first met Wuya and the monks, shaving had been something he'd had to do once every two weeks or so, and even then, he had barely had peach fuzz. Now if he didn't shave at least every three days, he looked like Dr. House.
Plus he turned eighteen in a few months.
Jack left his room when he heard the shower start. He carefully headed down to the kitchen, trying not to move too much. Man . . . who knew a fight resulting in life-altering damage could make you so hungry? He'd have one of the JackBots make waffles. And maybe some sausage. Then he could have sausage links with maple syrup drizzled over the top of them. Oh, yeah, that sounded good.
Jack pushed open the kitchen door.
He barely had time to let out a startled shout before something crashed into his chest with the force of a sledgehammer.