Articifical Life Chapter 9

Chapter 9- Absence
By, TheAuthor




One of the first things that became obvious to Wuya about this Showdown, Jack wasn't there. He was probably moping. The little brat was a sore-loser. Any who, she wanted that Shen Gong Wu, and Jack not being there was one less fly to swat.

Omi however, found Jack Spicer's absence very…. Worrying.

"Where is Jack Spicer?" He asked, looking up at Raimundo. Ever since he'd become Shoku, Omi had found a horribly wonderful way to annoy him. Ask him to answer every question the  boy's mind could possibly come up with. This was not one of those question. It was simply a question.

"He' probably off somewhere, sleeping, or moping, or-" Wuya started to list off all of Jack's bad habits.

"Wuya, if you hate the boy so much, why do you take every chance you get to speak of him?" Chase asked. Wuya opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. After a moments thought, she admitted, "Ya' know, I have no clue."

Kimiko was scanning the area. It was a small village in Africa. Some children were running around, carrying small stuffed toys. Some men an women were farming in the fields. It was late evening, and they would probably be retiring soon. Laughter, and good cheer seemed permanent in the air. It got the Xiaolin smiling. A squeal reached their ears, and many of the farmers went to investigate.

Chase listened to the excited words, secretly marveling at the gracefulness of the foreign language. He'd always been a lover of culture. It fascinated him over the many years just how much opinion and misconceptions could influence humans.

The people were exclaiming over a glowing bracelet. Chase recognized it as the Mèng de bushou immediately. He still had a small scar on his elbow from where he'd jumped back in surprise. It was hardly visible, but it always irritated Chase. Dashi had used something he deemed 'good' to scare Chase half way to screaming. Chase NEVER screamed, and he hated Dashi for it. Even now, centuries after the fool's death.  

"I reckon tha' there bracelet is exactly what we're lookin' fer." Clay said, taking a step forward. Wuya pushed her way to the center of the group, and snatched the bracelet from the young women who held it. An outraged cry from the villagers made Wuya snarl.

Many took a step back, but one man held his pitchfork in a fighting stance, and approached Wuya. She backed away, and he said something in his language.

"I don't speak your language, speak English." The man snarled, and said what he'd said before, but in a more forceful tone. Wuya jumped back, surprised as she dodged a jab from the man's pitchfork. Raimundo moved behind Wuya, and grabbed the bracelet.
"Wuya, I challenge you to a Xiaolin Showdown. If I win, the man get the bracelet, and you never come to this village again." He looked at the man, trying to communicate that he was helping, "But if you loose, you take the bracelet-"

"And destroy this pathetic little village." She said, and dark, pleased look on her voice.

"What?!" Raimundo looked at her in fear, "I'm NOT playing for people's lives!" His voice squeaked.

"Than I'll take the bracelet, and the people die anyways." Wuya smirked at him, "And it would be all. Your. Fault."

"Fine. I'll fight. My Sword of the Storm, against your Tangle Web Comb."

"The game will be a game of tag."

"We have to get it from that women without hurting her." Raimundo stressed the 'no hurting her.' Wuya made an irritated noise.

"Alright, if that's the challenge, then I except."

"Let's go, Xiaolin Showdown!" The man stood next to the woman, an arm around his shoulder. The villagers sat behind them, a look of knowledge on their faces. Even through the language barrier, they still understood that this foreigner was defending them.

"Gong Yi Tanpai!" Chase watched the change in graphics with a bored expression on his face. He was tired again, his curiosity in the local culture gone. Now, he found himself thinking about that key. And, more irritatingly, where Spicer was.

~~~~

Jack stared at the door, feeling sick. He couldn't tell him, but some sick devotion drove him to. Twisting the doorknob, Jack walked into the room, and called out for his counterpart.

"Jackie, are you home?" Silence greeted him. A calico cat walked in behind him, purring. Jack picked it up as he explored the room. French style was defiantly different from his own taste. It was bright, and spring like in the apartment. Than again that could just be Jackie's personal taste. This is SO his style. He loves bright things. Jack thought to himself, thinking of the guest room that Jackie had occupied at the Spicer household. Jack still couldn't go in there without sunglasses.

With a tired sigh, Jack finally gave up. Jackie just wasn't home. He and Le Mime must have been out. He'd have to tell him some other time. If I have to courage later, Jack admitted to himself bitterly. He knew himself. He'd keep lying to Good Jack as long as he could. Lying through his teeth, through other people, even making Good Jack lye to himself. Jack was just that kind of guy.

"Why am I such a coward?" Jack asked the little calico on his shoulders.