Work Text:
“This is so unfair!” Jack wailed to himself, dragging the shovel behind him. The world’s cleverest, mightiest boy genius had fallen so far. He was fine with sinking to new lows and humiliating himself, he was even fine with the fact that he had just finished burying the one-eyed monster’s “treasure” as deep as his Jackbots could dig.
But this?
This got his goat. Or grabbed his sheep, as Omi might say. Real Omi, anyway.
Chase’s citadel was huge. The fancy palace stretched on endlessly before him. But with all the company in the so-called “wayward home for evil wannabees”, it managed to feel as overcrowded as Jack’s tiny lair full of spare Jackbot parts and a revolving door of traitorous evil associates. It was usually just full of Chase, his jungle cats, sometimes Wuya. Now it was inhabited by cat thieves, evil ninjas, giant cyclops that Jack Spicer was in charge of changing– and if he squinted, Jack could even make out a yellow and black blur that was a single child literally bouncing all around the walls, all the time. Jack leveled a scowl at the afterimage of bouncy new Heylin recruit.
That was the unfair part. That left a bad taste in his mouth way worse than that dirty diaper Jack had just disposed of or that bug Jack had offered to eat. That crazy little former Xiaolin warrior.
“It’s so unfair!” Jack repeated, gripping the shovel tight and stomping his feet on the ground. “This makes no sense! When I brought Chase the country hick who was ready to join the dark side, he just said,” Jack brushed back his hair, put his hands behind his back, and squared his shoulders in an imitation of Chase Young, as he mocked out in a deeper cadence, “Nooo, this cowboy is sooo possessed, so he doesn’t count, he’s not reaaally evil, one can only be truly evil when one chooses its path for himself, blah blah waah.”
Jack replayed the earlier exchange in a scornfully whiny voice with a dramatic grimace, waving his hands around dramatically.
“—And then he does that to that bobblehead and picks him as his evil partner in crime! That looks possessed to me! Chase Young—Super Evil Super Genius? More like… ‘Super evil doo-doo head hypocrite’! Wouldn’t know what ‘choosing evil’ looked like if it bit him in the—”
“Mind your tongue, Spicer.”
Jack nearly jumped out of his skin; he dropped his shovel and snapped his head up to face the source of the voice, all the gears in his mind stuttering. He found Chase standing there with a look of mild annoyance.
“Ch-Chase!” The embarrassed mechanic blurted out. The dragon man stepped out of the shadows, leveling a glare. “H-hey, dude, how’s it going…? Oh—you, uh—you heard that?” Jack giggled awkwardly and shook his head, trying for a more amiable tone as he continued, “—May I just say, the world has never looked darker or eviler than it has ever since you took over! Love the doom and gloom! And all the fire and destruction! Truly classic! Chase, sir, it is an honor to watch you work and live in a world ruled by you—!”
Chase cut him off yet again, holding a hand up in a halting gesture and rolling his eyes. “I don’t need your groveling right now. Save it.”
Jack didn’t know if he’d ever get used to Chase’s uncanny stealth abilities. Especially when he hadn’t expected Chase to come up to him at all right then.
Chase Young still usually just sat alone in his big fancy throne or at his small private dinner table. He wouldn’t approach to speak with anyone unless it was to boss them around, leaning his elbow comfortably against the arm of his opulent evil throne or eating a lavish meal at his overfilled table. An annoyed glower seemed almost permanently etched on his face from all the ruckus if the other evildoers were being even a little loud or got anywhere near him.
Jack’s evil army had left him for this guy, and Chase didn’t even appreciate them. And right when Jack and his army were on the cusp of world domination. Yet again, some other baddie came along and got their chance first! First it was Wuya, and now it was Chase. And just like with Wuya, by Chase’s side, ruling the world with him, was one of the Xiaolin losers. And not just any Xiaolin loser, but that facsimile of cheeseball, of all people!
Chase would smirk while he was scheming, or when a plan went just right. He’d let out a rare bought of condescending evil laughter if anyone talked back to him. But the only time Chase seemed to crack an actual smile was when he looked at Omi, who occasionally stopped running on the ceiling to scamper up to Chase’s side, either to follow him around like a clingy little kitten or to have a one-sided sparring match with the Prince of Darkness. Jack supposed he would consider Omi the only person Chase seemed to openly appreciate around here, if Omi hadn’t been tricked into being here in the first place.
Chase was currently sans Omi, thankfully. Jack wasn’t sure what to think of the little cheeseball now that he was corrupted and moldy and evil. It made the whole world feel out of whack. That, and the fact that the whole world was split in half, burning, and being plunged into eternal darkness. That also made the world feel out of whack to Jack, but way less than whatever was up with Omi.
“Even you can’t possibly see Omi finally embracing his dark side as anything similar to Sibini using Clay’s body,” Chase said.
Jack didn’t open his mouth to argue that it looked exactly the same to him, and he internally held back the urge to make a face. Judging by the pause, Chase was apparently expecting an actual answer, so he eventual gave a non-committal “I was just confused! That’s all!”
Chase narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing to be confused about. There’s nothing alike between your methodology and mine.”
Jack hmphed silently and told himself that was a good thing. Chase had a very strange way of going about getting what he wanted, and an even stranger way of settling his debts. Chrome Dome was living proof of that. Yeah, it’s nothing alike, because mine are going to be way better and even cooler! Prince of Darkness, Chase Young? Ha! Try Evil Emperor of Darkness, Jack Spicer! Jack didn’t say. For one, Chase was still the coolest supervillain around, Jack had to admit. And for another thing, Jack would like to live to see his next birthday.
The uncomfortable conversation was interrupted by the sudden pounding of tiny feet hitting the floor at an inhuman speed. In a flash, Omi tore down the hall. Jack could hear the sounds of the Heylin warrior running down the corridors and the occasional thud in his punches hitting his own shadow on the wall. Cautiously, Jack leaned to the side to look past Chase and was greeted with the sight of Omi scrabbling towards them, waving his arms in a frenzied but sinuous manner, with a bunch of elaborate kicks and punches that probably had equally elaborate names that Jack wasn’t going to bother with.
Before Jack could utter a warning, Omi had reached the end of the hall at top speed— but instead of smacking into the wall as Jack had feared, he jumped and used the wall as a launch pad to leap after his quarry.
“I have got you now, Chase!” Omi growled, in a voice that Jack had never heard coming from him before, as he finally pounced.
Chase lowered his head to evade when Omi leapt over him, landing right onto Jack’s head, which he used as a springboard. Jack stumbled forward, overbalanced, and like a whirlwind, Omi twirled back around to face the immortal dragon to aim a spinning kick straight at Chase’s face. Water coalesced from thin air, cloaking Omi like a cyclone.
Chase dodged the attack yet again, leaning back and redirecting Omi’s path with a guiding hand, so he spun off path and landed harmlessly on the floor. The remaining water droplets dispersed harmlessly, but Jack was left waterlogged in the aftermath. “Good form and impressive recovery, Omi. You almost had me there. You’re learning well. Keep at it,” Chase advised. Not a hair on his head had gotten splashed.
Omi beamed at the praise. His smile showed off more teeth than usual, with wider, jerkier arm movements, laughter sharper yet somewhat drier. His previously black, beady eyes were glowing an empty white, crinkling up in mirth from the face-splitting grin. “I will keep fighting! I am going to fight, fight, FIGHT!” he insisted, springing up and attacking Chase again. He was dead set on trying to get a single clean hit in, throwing punch after punch after punch that was easily parried against Chase’s palms or bounced off Chase’s draconian armor. Omi lost himself in the adrenaline that evil gave him. His movements were vicious, power-hungry, malicious; but he still moved with liquid grace that befitted the water dragon, the elegance of a curving river, the power of a roaring hurricane.
“Omi still has his sense of self. He still responds to his own name; he knows who he is. These moves are quintessentially Omi.” Even while he effortlessly parried the relentless flurry of kicks and punches and spins from Omi, Chase’s tone, as always, was as smooth and unyielding as marble—not a crack or divot to be found. “As you can plainly see, Omi is not possessed by anything.”
“—Really?! Are you serious?!” Jack’s voice edged higher. He must have sounded really distressed, because Chase almost looked surprised at the way Jack raised his voice for a split second. Jack shrunk back on himself and gave another wimpy, peaceable gesture, continuing in a quieter tone, “—I mean— You can’t blame me for thinking he is! Just look at him—”
Cutting him off for the second time, Omi’s sharp bark of laughter filled the room as he skidded to a halt and glared up at the evil boy genius. “Jack Spicer—What are you off about?”
All signs of surprise were erased as a smug grin stretched across Chase’s face. “I second Omi’s sentiment. What are you off about, Spicer?”
“On about,” Jack corrected automatically, then quickly added, “—I was only correcting Omi,” when it sunk in that Chase had echoed the little guy.
Omi rolled his eyes and glared. “On, off— Ugh! More importantly! Are you choosing a bone with me?! You want to fight?!”
He ran at Jack before he could answer, and Jack held him at arm’s length with a hand on his big, bald forehead. “No, Chrome Dome, I don’t have a bone to pick with you, so get back to fighting your own shad—ow!” Omi responded by clinging to Jack, climbing up his forearm, and biting down hard on Jack’s offending hand. Jack flailed wildly until he shook Omi off of him.
Omi landed squarely on his feet like he'd never been flung away at all, an angry recognition flashing in his eyes. Thankfully, instead of picking up the fight with Jack again, he got back to his rabbity shadowboxing by himself. “Humph! –Shadow of mine, I challenge you! You will be no match!” If Omi were to rocket through the ceiling, nobody would really be surprised. Not with how much energy he had. He looked like the physical representation of a spring wound tight, just waiting to uncoil and rocket off.
A ragged sigh left Jack, and he shuddered again, shaking out his hand. “Did that kid just bite me?! I think I might have rabies now! Real Omi didn’t bite people!” Jack thought about it for a second and added, to qualify his statement, “Uh… he doesn’t usually bite people? Outside of showdowns, at least…? He’s a little weirdo and all, but?”
“’Real’? What, did that kick or that bite not feel real enough for you?” Chase lightly placed a hand on the top of Omi’s head. Omi instantly calmed down, arching an eyebrow and blinking up at Chase owlishly, who gave him an indulgent smile. “This is Omi. He’s simply decided to finally take the rightful place he has earned at my side.”
In Jack’s opinion, the word “decided” was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.
Omi watched Chase with big eyes as he gently petted his head a little, while Jack was still trying to process everything that had just happened. Omi returned Chase’s smile, laughing and leaning into Chase’s hand, like a cat seeking that one beam of sunlight. “He is endearing, is he not?” Chase praised.
“Uh, yeah, I think I’m gonna go with ‘not’,” Jack jibed.
Quite a few people tried to simply hold Omi off by holding the pugnacious little one at arm’s length. There was no one in this citadel who Omi hadn’t tried to pick a fight with, after all, corporeal or not. He bit all of them except for Chase. Omi obediently stilled whenever Chase put his hand on his head. A smirk played at Chase’s lips, a burning sensation of smug pride pulsing behind his chest. “Just be mindful of where you put your limbs around him if you don’t want him to bite your hand or break your arm. He hasn’t sworn his loyalty to anyone except me, so you’re all fair game.”
“Is he even human anymore? Who bites people like that?” Jack complained. “Is Omi a lizard monster now, too?!”
That joke hadn’t landed well. Chase’s mouth pressed into a thin line, no hint of a smirk to be found. “…I can have my ‘kittens’ bite you instead, if you’d prefer. Or you could be Cyclops’s chew toy.”
“—Nah! I wouldn’t taste very good! They’d get an upset stomach, so, uh, let’s not!” Jack stuttered out.
Chase stroked his head again, like he was one of Chase’s jungle cats. “For once, you’re correct… you’re so gaunt, you couldn’t make a single one of my leopards feel full.”
Omi giggled to himself as Chase went back to rubbing his hand on his head. If Omi had any hair, it would have been all mussed up. Chase moved his hand off of the top of Omi’s head and he patted it on his back, motioning for Omi to go. “Keep practicing, little one. Harness your skills some more. I promise, you’ll get to fight much more than just your own shadow very soon.”
Omi sprang aloft before anyone could say anything else, streaking through the air and running up the walls and across the ceiling again. He continued to bounce all over the palace. His energy seemed to increase with every passing second, and he became even more animated, gushing about getting stronger and fighting more fights. Watching him was exhausting enough to make Jack want to go to bed and never get up again. The soulless cheeseball had enough spirit for all of Heylin. Hell, probably all of the world.
And Chase still, somehow, just smiled as he watched the kid, arms folded over his chest casually. Jack didn’t know if he was pleased with Omi or just pleased with himself for winning.
“Evil Omi acts as much like Omi as evil Clay acted like Clay,” Jack muttered to himself, still rubbing the teeth-shaped indents on his hand. He was pretty sure evil Omi somehow had sharper teeth than regular Omi.
Chase’s narrowed eyes were accompanied by a suspicious cock of the head. “Sibini is Sibini; Clay is Clay. They’re entirely separate entities. I cannot make this any simpler.”
Jack shot him a withering look at having been overheard again. Frankly, despite it coming from his evil role model, Jack was neither satisfied nor impressed by that answer. He really didn't want to sit here and disagree with Chase, of all people—at least, not to his face while there wasn’t a magical layer of glass between them. Especially not after a long day of having his evil army collapse, changing a giant Cyclops, and watching the little cheeseball run all around this accused citadel.
Still, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. This was where he found himself, for now. What did he have to lose at this point– aside from extra diaper duty time for Cyclops?
“Yeah, but… You know. Cueball is Cueball, and I know Cueball pretty darn well,” Jack puffed out his meager chest and hooked a thumb towards himself showily. “—I’ve been fighting him longer than you have, for the record! Me and Omi were practically archnemeses! Anyway, I know Cueball, and that isn’t Cueball! It’s an entirely separate… thing.”
Chase kept his face neutral. He normally wouldn’t even entertain Jack’s ridiculous whining. But he was in a good mood. The world was his. Omi was finally on his side, and he’d sworn his loyalty to Chase, so he was going to remain on his side indefinitely. In his own idiotic way, Jack had enabled Chase’s ambitions to come to fruition, with his foolish attempted plans with the Sphere of Yun, the spiders, that yo-yo he never realized he was fake. Every step of the way, Jack’s idiocy had ended up becoming a boon for Chase.
So, Chase would bite. Figuratively speaking—for now.
“…Your so-called ‘evil cowboy’ was nothing more than a giant meatsuit for that insect. Clay didn’t choose anything and wasn’t conscious, and Sibini already chose evil for himself long before you were ever born. I know evil. I’ve been at this far longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Yeah, well—hey, you know what? We’ve both been at it way longer than Omi,” Jack supplied.
Chase knew what Jack was getting at, and frankly, it was insulting. He scoffed. “Omi made his choices,” Chase asserted. “I haven’t brainwashed him or forced anything into Omi’s heart that wasn’t already there. Omi’s dark side is Omi. It’s a part of him and always was. Even if someone loses his soul or every bit of good chi in his heart, what remains is still the essence that same person. It might even be a more honest form of themselves. Less suppressed by the useless things that hold us back.”
After all, Chase was Chase—before and after his deal with Hannibal.
He was more himself now than he ever had been as a naively hopeful Xiaolin admirer. Chase himself hadn’t known what to expect from Omi’s dark side, but this, in hindsight, made sense for him. Scrappy, loyal, powerful, and childish. Obedient and devoted, but not at all submissive. Chase admired the monk's fiery personality and his unquenchable curiosity, and those traits still remained.
Omi just needed to be accustomed to ways of evil, and the rougher edges would work themselves out. And, as usual, what better teacher could Omi hope for than Chase? He was sure he could teach the small child to crave the power flowing through his veins and the evil that shined within him, with or without his good chi in the way, just like Chase had taught the little dragon how to fight and to lie and steal and keep secrets from his closest friends.
Chase himself had lost his own good chi—or most of it, anyway— with that first sip of Lao Mang Lone soup, centuries ago. If anything, it had opened his mind. What remained in Chase was what had always been inside him. What was lost were things the Chase didn’t truly need. He was better this way. Stronger. Freed from the temple’s nonsense values and out of that brainless Guan’s shadow.
Losing the goodness in his heart and coming to the Heylin side had been nothing but liberating.
A sense of liberation that felt like a sharp rush of energy and pain, like bones breaking and skin tearing. Chase vividly remembered how badly it had hurt to take that first sip. That promise of power was enough for him to continue to cling onto it despite the painful transition. But just barely.
It burned all the way down, like molten fire. It had only lasted in a matter of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The world faded in and out of sight. His consciousness began to float in and out of reach.
He vaguely remembered that Hannibal was saying something to him in that annoying country twang during the transformation, but at that point, it was nearing inaudibility as the ringing of agony chimed repeatedly in Chase’s head. The pain filled his skull and pushed it to the verge of cracking open, to the point he barely could make out the words being thrown at him. They might have been insults, or taunts, gloating, encouragement, praise. Whatever they were, the sound of that voice alone was pissing Chase off.
The world had turned dark, yet he was seeing red.
Chase’s fists clenched; his nails dug into his own flesh until it nearly bled. Heavy breaths and hollow growls escaped his lips, one after the other, getting more rapid each time. The pain that tore through his chest as he lay in the ground was worse than anything he had experienced up to that point. The bones in his chest and limbs jerked inside his skin and muscles, as if some unseen force moved them from within.
Something had snapped in his mind, like a noose falling from the pole of the gallows.
His sharpening teeth gritted together so hard that Chase was expecting them to break. His insides reeled as they ignited. The Lao Mang Lone flowed and sparked in his blood, electrifying his whole body; like a thousand needles had been shot through his cells. Every part of his body felt like it was pulsing, on the verge of exploding there and then. It was like that power was about to overflow at any moment, tear every part of him to tiny pieces and leave nothing behind. In his heart, every single drop of fury, of despair, of jealousy, of hatred—it all melded together.
Chase remembered opening his mouth to speak.
He didn’t remember speaking any words. He didn’t even scream.
All that left his dry mouth was an unnatural roar that echoed through the forest, shaking him to his bones as power flowed through him.
It almost came as a surprise that the substance— the one he now needed, and could never be rid of— didn’t rip through his flesh as it sparked around his body. As he finally got back onto his feet, larger and scalier, for a split second, in a brief, near-desperate hesitation, he clutched his head in a desire to go back, sick with guilt and regret. For half a second, he wondered if there was a way back; if he would even have a chance to go back.
That didn’t last.
When Chase had come to, he was nothing but a blank canvas with only the bare minimum holding him together. Dark hair, pale skin, sharp claws, hard armor, and smooth scales. He still had all his memories, he always would, but the man in them felt more and more like a stranger with each passing decade.
At first—for a very short while— Chase only fought to serve that bean, because he had, for a while, forgotten how to do anything else. For a while, he barely recognized any part of him that wasn’t fighting. At first, he’d looked at his reflection in still waters and a stranger would stare back at him. A stranger’s reptilian eyes, a stranger's spiked green hair, and a stranger's mouth filled with a stranger’s monstrous teeth.
He came into his own soon enough, though. It didn’t take long to grow accustomed to the dark side. With enough lies and pillaging and evil, it would sink in that there was no longer a home on the good side that would welcome him back—and from there, it was so easy. Once his hometown was destroyed by his own hands, there were no regrets left to lug around as needless weights. Anything familiar just became another target. Anything from the days of before became desperately thin in his head. None of it mattered anymore.
Once one burns all his bridges home, it truly sinks in that in order to survive, one must adapt. In order to live, one has to be just as cruel as the world. To plan and succeed in evil and rule this world, he became the person that struck fear into everyone’s heart.
Within a few years of that fateful day, Chase had become that person. The stares, the whispers, the fear, it followed him like a shadow. Prince of darkness, ruthless, merciless, devil the world whispered to him.
It was liberating for the true part of himself to rise to the surface. It was grand to come into his own after that unstable period of being a blank slate afterwards. All it took was a single choice and a bit of time.
He’d wanted that, didn’t he? Power, by any means necessary. In theory, the matter seemed so much simpler. In practice, it was a monster of a thing, complex and twisting in his chest.
It may have hurt, but it was liberating to make that choice. It was even more liberating to trap that stupid little bean the first chance he got. Chase didn’t need him, and he hadn’t joined the dark side for him, either. He did it for himself. Hannibal’s designs for the world had nothing to do with Chase’s.
Chase had earned his power, and stolen his freedom. Hannibal was gone, sealed away in the Yin-Yang world.
Now, when Chase Young looked in the mirror, the man he saw was more himself than that overlooked, naïve young Xiaolin admirer he used to be ever was. And that feeling was glorious—finding power and worth in a type of feral authenticity.
When Chase Young looked in the mirror, he knew who he was better than he ever did as a misguided youth. He could no longer see any weakness or doubt in him. There was only the Prince of Darkness, this true dragon that was who he is now. That was the person everyone saw. That was the person everyone had come to fear. That was who he would be for the rest of his endless days. That was the person Omi had some to—somewhat foolishly—admire and trust.
The closest he’d come to seeing any semblance of the sorry sight of that cocky young dragon-in-training in 1500 years was when he met little Omi. Naïve but powerful, the youngest of his team but full of confidence and budding potential. Cocky and fun and missing something. Omi deserved this feeling of liberation, too. He didn’t know it, but he’d never find what he was looking for on the Xiaolin side.
Omi was a little unstable for now, with nothing but his dark side inside him. Chase had been too, at first. Worse than Omi, honestly. Another similarity between them. Chase could tell that Omi wanted power, too. This was the way to attain it.
Omi would have far fewer growing pains to go through than Chase did for the transition. It wouldn’t be nearly as painful or confusing for Omi as it had been for Chase. Chase could make sure of that. Chase could have just as easily tricked him into drinking the soup. The method of the Yin-Yang world was painless, in comparison. It was a mercy. And it still came down to Omi’s own choices.
Omi didn’t deserve the agony of Chase’s transformation, but he deserved every bit of freedom and power, and all the time in the world that came with being one of Chase’s warriors. Even if Omi was afraid to admit it to himself while he still had good chi making him hold his tongue. It had been written all over his face from his weakening refusals to Chase’s chances to join him. From a headstrong, half-honest, “No! I just owed you a favor!” to a shaky, hesitant “I…… could never join the dark forces” at the offer to be with Chase, barely able to meet Chase’s eyes. Chase chuckled to himself.
“… ‘The little things that hold us back’…” In a rare moment of boldness, Jack huffed out a frustrated groan and rolled his eyes. Chase turned his attention back to the present, back to this scrawny teenage evil genius. “—Oh, you mean like ‘not being possessed’?! It sounds like a whole lotta fancy schmancy posturing just to get the same results as I did with Clay! Some of us are evil boy geniuses who chose evil on our own, you know! Some of us chose the true path of darkness and evil all by ourselves in the second grade!”
Chase narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, aren’t you a prodigious evildoer?”
“Yeah, I am!” Jack bragged.
“But you just admitted that you weren’t born evil. Not even I was born evil. Only demons are. And demons don’t impress me.” Before Jack could even ask what that meant, Chase continued, “When one chooses evil, chooses the Heylin way, that is the moment of true transformation. I knew myself the moment I first sold my soul to my own original evil, at the first breath of this new life, more malevolent and tenfold more fearsome than any creature on their side; and the thought, at that moment, braced and delighted me like wine. Evil feels good, wouldn’t you agree? So much better than good. Omi will thrive in it.”
“Dang, I bet it would’ve been really cool if real Omi actually chose evil, then,” Jack muttered to himself again, even quieter this time.
Chase sighed again, rubbing his temples in a sign of irritation.
“Yet again, as I said… losing one’s chi doesn’t add any new traits or thoughts to the person. It removes some, and amplifies those that are left. There is nothing about it that isn’t real. People are complex things, Spicer. People change. Sometimes our destiny is determined by events that are out of our control. Sometimes there are parts of ourselves that only ever existed in order to be thrown away.”
“Most people are complicated, but Omi? The good guy so good he thought he could make me and you good? I don’t think he was one of the most complicated people in the world.”
Chase bit back the urge to snap at him. It wasn’t even worth an argument if Spicer failed to recognize Omi’s depths and his potential—it only further cemented in Chase’s mind that he was the only one who could draw out and see Omi’s real worth. Instead, Chase smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “And Clay Bailey was?”
“—You know, for the record, I still barely even know what a ‘Sibini’ is! No one tells me anything!”
Chase groaned and rolled his eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. Omi isn’t mind-controlled or possessed. He made the choice to come to me, to trust me, time and time again. He entered the Yin-Yang world of his own volition. His friends told him not to, I told him to—and he listened to me. It was already in his mind that I believed in him and supported him more than the monks did. So was this bloodlust of his. So was everything he said when he left the Xiaolin side to join mine. He was holding himself back, but he was already reconsidering my many offers. All I did in the end was speed things up to help Omi rise to meet his destiny.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t imagine Cueball ever asked you to ‘speed things up a little’. I have a feeling he didn’t make the choice to lose this chi or whatever! I’m all for deal-with-the-devil type stuff, it’s classic and very evil, but the ‘deal’ part is where the whole ‘choice’ thing you were droning on about is supposed to be! That’s the whole art of it! –As for me, I decided all on my own back in grade school that evil and doom and gloom was my purpose in life, no magic yo-yos necessary,” Jack bragged again, just to make himself extra clear as an early bloomer in that area.
“Omi may have needed a small push from me to awaken the evil in his heart and set him free of those petty attachments, but he’s destined to reach new heights of evil. And he looks like he thinks evil feels pretty good.” Chase wore another self-satisfied smile as he dodged another flying kick from a very excited Omi. Omi definitely looked like he was having fun, Jack had to admit that much. “Despite his potential, Omi was stubborn in his naivety. As his mentor, how could I stand by and watch him squander that potential for much longer?” With a smug twist of his lips, Chase added, “As his personal hero, how could I watch him hide from his own great destiny? Unlike his former hero Guan, I’m no coward.”
Jack slumped. They were talking in circles, and he was only getting more confused about all of it. It felt like Chase was talking right over his head. “Alright, know what? I give up. You win.”
Chase grinned wickedly, unrestrained. “I always do.”
“I guess I was just confused, since it looked to me like you and Cueball got along pretty well, with all those ‘good and evil alliances’ you kept doing. You’re not going to… you know… miss the real Cueball? The one who knew more than one word?” Jack winced to a background chorus of Omi’s high-pitched voice chanting, “Fight, fight, fight, fight!”
Jack looked at Omi’s face. No arrogant tilt of mouth, no smart remark, no glittering eyes, no overly-tight sudden hugs or speeches about how Jack should give up evil. He really couldn’t think of this as the cheeseball he had come to know.
A thought came to Jack unbidden, and before he was done thinking it, he had already said it, “As far as the monks go, the real Omi was the one that was most fun.”
Chase’s eyebrows arched curiously.
“I got why he’d be the one you wanted to work with so much. I guess I just…” Jack shrugged, mulled over the thought for a moment. With another glance at Omi, he decided that the kid probably wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying right now anyway. “…liked Omi. Sorta thought you did, too? It sure looked like it, with the way you always smiled at the kid.”
A silence hung between them as Chase pondered his words. He almost opened his mouth to say, What makes it looks like I don’t?
“L-looks like I was way off, though!” Jack cut in to end the awkward pause. “Chase Young, Prince of Darkness, wouldn’t really have a soft spot for some cute little monk! Man, you’re so good, you even had me fooled for a while there! You were really faking all of that? I guess that’s why they call you the greatest evildoer of all time. Pretty heartless, aren’t you? I love it! Bobblehead got that attached to a man who was just using him! Not only are you an awesome evil villain, you’re even an awesome actor! I finally understand it all!”
“…I see that you still don’t understand anything at all,” Chase mused lowly, breathing out another exasperated sigh and pinching the bridge of his own nose. He wouldn’t have given Omi a place at his side if he didn’t want him there.
Chase wasn’t primarily motivated by it, and he’d never be so weakhearted as to admit it so openly to an unrelated third party, but he wasn’t heartless in regards to his designs on Omi. Omi was stifled potential on the Xiaolin side, a powerful essence that Chase could use to its full potential, a big ego that was easy to manipulate. He was also a cute little monk that Chase had a soft spot for, as Jack had crudely put it.
Chase took one glance at Omi that day and had never been able to look away from that impressive brilliance ever since. A strange spot of light in this dark life that Chase didn’t abhor. The only time Chase felt a semblance of anything pleasantly familiar from before was when he was with Omi.
It stirred an unfamiliar feeling in Chase’s chest. He didn’t know what it was. Chase wasn’t the fatherly type—even back in his Xiaolin monk days when he was ostensibly “good,” Chase was far more likely to pick a fight with random little kids that hung around the temple. When he’d said Omi fought very well for a little one, Chase had said that as someone who had fought quite a few other little ones. He didn’t have any fondness for children in general.
Maybe it was simply that Chase saw too much of himself in Omi to think of him as an annoyance like everyone else was. It might have come back to Chase’s own ego. The only time he had the kind of carefree enjoyment he thought he’d forgotten was during his spars with Omi. Again, as Spicer had put it—Omi was simply fun. He was a clueless, wide-eyed protégé, and his easily swayed judgment and stubborn devotion amused him. He’d plotted and schemed to have the funny child at his side, and all the while, the little one had effortlessly broken into his hollow heart Chase didn’t have.
He could still remember when those small, frigid hands grabbed a few of his fingers since they were not big enough to grab his whole hand. Something in him changed. The tiny orphan fractured something in Chase that he never knew could be broken.
Chase wanted to teach this boy. He would morph Omi into someone that could withstand the battering winds of life, who could see a chance at power and grab it for himself. He wanted to see what he could make of the little one. Chase was destined for greatness, and Omi was destined for bigger things than being some monk. Chase could feel it. He wanted to see it come to fruition.
Those feelings clashed with any idea that Omi was ever just some convenient tool to him.
“…Omi.” Chase called suddenly, catching both Jack and Omi by surprise.
Omi stopped mid-kick and looked up at Chase—or down, rather, since he was currently hanging from a swinging chandelier. His white eyes were wide and inquisitive. “…Chase.”
“Why are you here? What made you choose the Heylin way? What do you desire, more than anything?” Chase asked suddenly, apropos of nothing. He gripped his hand into a fist. “You and I rule the world now. You can have anything you want. There's no one in the universe that can touch us. Nothing is out of your grasp. So, what do you want?”
Omi didn’t even have to think about it. He answered with another too-wide slasher smile, “I want to fight!”
Omi let go of the chandelier and tried yet again to get the drop on Chase. This time, Jack made sure to scramble out of their way as they started yet another spar.
Chase braced himself in time, blocking a flurry of blows with his forearms to keep his ground. He tried to get in a punch of his own, but Omi danced out of reach before it landed. Omi darted in again, and instead of doing his usual fancily nonchalant dodging, Chase made the effort to meet Omi blow for blow.
Jack couldn’t stop from watching as Chase threw himself into the fight, way more enthusiastically than usual. There were a few moves that Jack knew Chase could’ve just avoided. He just didn’t want to. Instead, he faced Omi’s nimble, flowing movements head-on and countered in kind. Chase grinned, swiping out his hand to catch his opponent on the cheek and ducking under the responding kick, his long black hair almost obscuring his vision as he laughed under his breath. Chase stepped in again, purposely feinting a bit too obviously to the right. Omi blocked his left fist without even looking, and used his small size as an advantage, using the hold so he could duck under his arm and get behind him, trying to throw off Chase’s balance with a push. Chase didn’t even falter.
He may have been a more active participant in this fight, but it still looked like he was just toying with Omi.
Chase dodged a fist coming in for a punch, his black hair whipping around as he sidestepped and swept out his foot as soon as Omi landed on the ground again, aiming for his opponent’s ankles so he could knock him down. Omi stumbled back and huffed, and a well-timed kick to his chest knocked him back and knocked a bit too much air out of him. Omi landed flat on his back, and Chase pinned his body to the ground under the heel of his boot. The small warrior struggled fruitlessly against the overwhelming force that held him down.
“I’ll let you fight more freely and with more power than any of those old monks would ever have allowed you!” Chase pressed down harder. Jack was almost worried Chase might crush the little cheeseball. “I’ll turn those greenhorn skills of yours into real power!”
“Really? That’s all he wants? Fights? Not a very impressive evil ambition if you ask me…” Jack frowned.
“It’s what his evil little heart desires. And the fact of the matter is, I can provide it for him,” Chase affirmed. “This is a mutually beneficial partnership between equals. It’s a skilled teacher and his willing apprentice.”
“But he could fight on their side, too. He could literally pick fights anywhere. That isn’t even a good and evil thing. What if someone else comes along and says they’ll let Omi pick even more fights? Aren’t you worried that the brainless little fight machine might run off with just about anyone who promises him a good match? He goes around challenging everybody already.”
Humor quirked Chase’s lips. “I have no concerns whatsoever about where Omi’s loyalties lie. He has sworn to follow me. Unlike anyone other person in this lair, Omi and I are both honorable men of our words.”
Jack couldn't care less about honor and promises, he didn't think any villain should, but he raised an eyebrow at the man who tricked his own apprentice into all of this referring to himself as honorable. Especially as honorable as Omi, who was trustworthy to a fault. Sort of got him into this whole mess. "Normal Omi is honorable," Jack mused aloud, not sure about this... thing.
"Omi is honorable," Chase reiterated with an irritated glare.
“And also, even more than that!” Omi added breathlessly, once Chase had finally taken his foot off his entire torso. Chase bent down and offered his hand, and Omi accepted, letting the man pull him up. “What I want is to be at your side!” Omi exclaimed with clenched fists at his chest once he had hopped back onto his feet, like the child he was. He bounced on his toes with a giddy energy at having said that. “That is why I am here!”
It took a second to realize Omi was still answering Chase’s earlier question about what he wanted out of this so-called partnership between equals. “To rule the world with Chase? That was his heart’s desire?” Jack nodded his agreement. “Gotta admit, that’s relatable. I guess deep down, even cheeseballs wanna rule the world.”
Omi stopped bouncing and made an annoyed face. He rolled his eyes with an aggravated huff, the same sort he let out when Chase had paused their spar before to ascertain Omi’s fealty to him. “No! We are not on the same book at all, Jack Spicer!”
“Same… page?” Jack assumed.
“Same DIFFERENCE!” Omi threw his hands up in frustration. “I do not care if I rule the world or not! I do not want the world! I said I came here to be at Chase’s side!” Omi repeated, like it was obvious.
Jack tilted his head in confusion. Even Chase raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I follow, bobblehead?” Jack asked.
Omi looked even more annoyed, burying his face in the palm of both his hands and groaning. “Fine, Jack Spicer!” Omi threw his hands up again, seeming even more frustrated with this than with losing his earlier bout with Chase. “Have it your way! If it means I can go back to fighting, I will explain myself! What I want is a place at Chase Young’s side!”
Omi rattled off his next points quickly like he wanted to get this over with, like it was so obvious it barely needed saying, “Chase Young is a person I want to protect! A person I don’t want to lose! Someone irreplaceable! Someone I always want to be with! Chase is the coolest, greatest warrior of all time, and he is fun to learn from and fight with, so I will do that! And that great warrior said he has a place for me by his side! That warrior is the only one who taught me, believed in me, and listened to me! To be that great warrior’s honorable sword! That is what I want!! I want to fight together and I want to be here! I want to keep learning from the best. ‘I want to be at Chase’s side’—Am I diamond see-through yet!”
“Uh… Crystal clear?” Jack supplied, bewildered. He hadn’t seen the little one say so many concurrent words that didn’t amount to “fight” in quite a bit, so that one almost slipped past him.
Chase and Jack exchanged glances, Jack’s muddled and Chase’s smug. “As I said, Omi’s loyalties are the last thing I have to be concerned about.” Chase suddenly lost his balance slightly when Omi ran and clung to his left leg.
At first, Chase had thought it was a tackle and Omi was trying to start another fight with him. Instead, Omi was just hugging his leg, looking up at him with admiration in his eerie white eyes. The smile on Omi's face was much less creepy and murderous all of a sudden. It almost looked like a big, happy grin from normal Omi again.
For a moment, Chase didn't seem to know how to react to the tiny child affectionately clinging to his leg. Jack half-expected Chase to shoot out the spikes that almost always released from his armor whenever someone touched him. Instead, Chase just lifted his leg, and Omi hung on tight for the ride, laughing again. The laughter was less sharp and more like Omi's usual capricious giggles.
“I am happiest when I am with you! You have been there for me when I could rely on no one else! You have taught me my best lessons! This is where I belong! At your side! I like you and I trust you, so where else would I want to be! If you ask me what I want, it is exactly this!”
Jack glanced at Chase’s face to get a read on his emotions, and noticed that Chase’s eyes were wide in rare surprise. His pupils were blown, dilated from their typical slits to almost filling up his golden irises. They almost took up the entirety of his eyes, which was slightly unnerving and kinda funny; it reminded Jack more of a cat than a dragon. Ashley would flip at the sight.
Chase opened his mouth, but said nothing. The sentiment caused Chase to quiver all over, from the slight ruffle in his tone to the barely perceptible tremor in his fingertips. Chase subtly shifted his weight, and Omi responded by wrapping his entire body around his calve, grip still tight as he snuggled his face against Chase's hard armor. Chase was halfway between charmed and distressed by the situation. "You... will always have a place here at my side, Omi," Chase said, lightly patting the boy's large head. "You know that already," Chase answered Omi with an awkwardly crooked smile, one that reached his eyes and caused them to crinkle up. Omi's own grin brightened.
Chase had never been particularly sentimental, and he’d never had anything resembling a fatherly bone in his body. He'd never had a family, and when he was a monk, he was the youngest of his peers. This wasn’t some feeling Chase had long-since forgotten in his fifteen hundred years. It was a feeling he never had any business knowing.
“Chase? You good?” Jack asked.
Chase just managed to tear his gaze away from his apprentice to look at Jack, clearing his throat and closing his eyes briefly. “Fine,” he mumbled, eyes returning to their sharp, narrow slits. He kept his gaze anywhere but on Omi, who was still latched to the baggy part of his pants. He grimaced, almost embarrassed. It must have been satisfying for Jack to see the prideful Chase that had been stringing him along this far, so rattled by something that he was left speechless. But Chase didn't have the energy to be bitter about it.
Omi grew bored of the soppiness rather quickly, since he broke away and started running around, shadowboxing again. “That is more than enough mindless chatter-chitter! I want a fight! If you are not going to fight me, then I will find a fight elsewhere! Leave me to my fighting! –TUBBIMURA, WHERE ARE YOU! FACE ME!”
The kid disappeared in a series of dramatic backflips.
Jack chuckled to himself incredulously. “Man, did Omi really choose evil or Heylin or darkness like you said? It kind of looks to me like he just chose you without knowing what that meant. So even deep down in the darkest side of his heart,” Jack pondered it. “The darkest desires Bobblehead over here has in him are wanting to fight lots of fights, and wanting to hang out—uh, work together with you. The good half of Omi is how much he likes his friends, and the dark half of Omi is just how much he likes you? Who knew good chi and evil chi could be split up like that? I gotta say, that’s awesomely cruel!”
Chase’s expression fell back into an unimpressed glower. “Are you getting at something here, Spicer?”
“All I’m getting at is that this makes you even more of a wicked mastermind than I thought you were! Chase, you heartless, callous, soulless villain—an evildoer’s evildoer! I love it! So,” Jack piped up, like he’d suddenly realized something interesting. His eyes sparkled in amazement. “You said this brainwashing thing—”
“Omi is not brainwashed.” The words were quiet, pulled from between his teeth.
Jack didn’t miss a beat. “So, this not-possessing, not-brainwashing thing you did to Omi didn’t add any thoughts he didn’t have before, right? So even normal Omi must think you’re his greatest hero and want to be with you! All for a man who’d trick him into getting Sibini’d! He literally walked right into it—jumped right into it! I bet you were laughing on the inside when he opened that portal!”
It was disgusting to hear that annoying ancient bug’s name turned into some sort of verb. “This is nothing like that insect’s little tricks—”
“That poor sap’s an even bigger hopeless fanboy of you than I am!” Jack made a face at accidentally insulting himself again. He quickly continued to change the subject from that accidental self-drag. “—You sure got him good! He was such an idiot to trust you and look up to you! He thought you really liked him! He thought you actually respected him! You never really cared about the little screwball atall, and now, he doesn’t know how to care about anything except for you! The Omi that always got in our way, the Omi we knew, is gone forever! It’s especially evil ‘cause—you know, one time, I convinced Omi he was going to be evil in the future, and he tried to freeze himself to death so it’d never happen! And you really managed to get him to throw the thought of good and evil away just for you! If real cheeseball could see himself now, he’d flip! There’s not a weapon in the world that would hurt him more than this! This would break him! What a tool! What a brilliant evil plan, Chase! It’s a whole new level of coldblooded! I definitely get it now!”
All at once, Chase’s serene visage began to crack, anger bleeding through in his voice. “No, you don’t!”
Chase growled, flashing his claws, eyes going bloodshot. His slitted pupils narrowed and his skin turned to scales as he stormed up to Jack. “You don’t understand anything! You and your absurd guesses are starting to get on my nerves!” The dragon was growling in his face, irises glowing gold.
Jack leaned away and held up his hands peaceably, throwing on another shaky smile. It wasn't hard to tell that Chase was pissed, and Jack had no way of defending himself. If he wasn't careful, this could turn out badly for him, so Jack said nothing to his outburst. It was always unnerving how much less even-tempered Chase was in his dragon form. Jack just took a step back, mouth pulling in a compliant grimace. “Oh, uh, I…? Did I say something wrong?” Jack tried to keep his tone cool, even in the face of someone who could tear him apart without a second thought.
Just as quickly as he’d lost his composure, Chase had regained it again, returning to his human form in a flash of light. He took a deep breath and let it out, nostrils flaring.
And then, silence. It was almost worse than a roar. Chase’s golden eyes glanced off Jack as though he weren't even there, far away in contemplation. In another world. The expression on his face was something far deeper than Jack ever expected to see from him. Dark and unreadable – and angry. Not the blistering hot, volatile anger Chase had displayed thus far in his dragon form, but something cold and dead. And personal.
Chase glanced at Omi, who stopped and smiled and waved back at him. Chase’s mouth twitched, and not into a smile this time. Omi stopped and just looked bewildered, before getting back to fighting the air.
This hadn’t a true debate, but whatever this conversation was, Chase’s mouth twisted at the bitter taste of the unexplainable feeling that he’d lost. He’d lost his composure and had nothing to say to the points he put forth. He’d lost. To Jack Spicer, of all people. He’d sooner swallow needles than admit to that feeling.
Jack drifted closed to him, throwing him an odd look, but Chase had already snapped out of his lapse. If Jack wasn’t so startled, he might have asked about it.
“Why am I bothering to explain anything to you, worm? I wasted enough of my breath on this,” he snarled, tone and expression back to something even and icy. He whistled sharply, calling his servants to attention. “Omi!” Chase called again.
Omi stopped on a dime right where he was, right on the ceiling, nearly falling down before he scrambled to hold onto something. The little warrior paused in his flurry of fake fighting to look at his master, eyes bright with determination.
His big, white eyes blinked owlishly at Chase, and he smiled. “Chase!” he echoed back.
In a rare display of outright immature pettiness that Chase hadn’t seen from himself in almost 1500 years, Chase jabbed a finger in Jack’s direction and smirked. “This insect here has helpfully volunteered to spar with you after all, young warrior. Have at it. No need to hold back.”
And then there was a little one’s giddy laughter, followed by a very high-pitched scream.