14AN: It's been a while since I've read a solid Jack-becomes-Chase's-apprentice fic. Every one I read, the apprenticeship is already established, they're boinking each other's brains out, and Chase's honor is... No where to be seen.
They say write the story you want to read. So here's mine.
Disclaimer: Yes, Jack is underage at the start of this story. That's why it's a slow-burn romance.
Evermore
Chapter 1: Chase's Plan
If ever there was a more disaster-prone individual, it was Jack Spicer. His victories were few and far-between, his losses typically spectacular and garnering frustration with the slightest pinch of pity from both Heylin and Xiaolin alike.
Chase Young, of course, was annoyed by the mere presence of the so-called "evil boy genius". As a villain of renowned reputation, it was embarrassing to be seen with Spicer, let alone be on a first-name basis. At one point, Chase had a glimmer of hope for the boy. He was young, impressionable… But when the boy proved to be a colossal idiot, Chase cut all ties.
Or, at the very least, he attempted to. Spicer was harder to scrape off than gum on the bottom of one's shoe.
Chase rubbed his temple with two fingers, eyes knitted shut against the soft throb starting up in his head. One of his warriors was before him, giving a repot on a band of renegades attacking a smaller town in the Land of Nowhere.
"Cut their supply lines," Chase ordered. "Offer them a chance to surrender. If they do, feed them. Then present the choice of citizenship or joining my forces."
"And if they refuse, my lord?"
"Destroy them. Leave one man alive and escort him back to the border."
"As you say, my lord."
The warrior left, transforming into a panther as they went. Chase made notes of the order on a scroll laying before him on the table. All in a day's work as a warlord.
The slamming of a door accompanied by a shrill screech announced Wuya's return. Chase clenched his jaw, eyes closing as he took a deep, steadying breath.
"That boy!" She hissed. "That stupid, bumbling boy and his infernal robots!"
"I assume Spicer was at the Showdown," Chase said delicately, rolling up his scroll. "As you have returned empty-handed and in such a pleasant mood."
"I am at the end of my rope!"
Chase rested his chin in a hand, elbow propped on the arm of his chair as he slouched, watching Wuya pace back and forth. She ranted and raved, seethed and scathed over Jack-this and Jack-that. He leaned over to the tiger on his right.
"Wake me when she's finished," he muttered. The tiger snorted softly.
"I'm begging you, you've got to do something!"
"And what exactly do you propose I do?" Chase snapped, finally losing patience. He stood, rounding the table. "I am perfectly aware that Spicer is a menace! He rushes in without thinking, does not listen to reason-!"
"But he'll listen to you!" Wuya insisted. "Please, Chase, the boy almost died out there today!"
That got Chase's attention. He stared at Wuya, who he suddenly realized was very close to tears. Tears for Jack? Quite likely. Somewhere between all the Showdowns and lost Wu and betrayals, Wuya had come to care for the boy. She was… A surrogate mother, older sister, estranged cousin. Despite the lack of a proper term, without meaning to, the Heylin witch had grown attached.
Chase disapproved, obviously. Not about the attachment itself; getting one's self attached to anyone or anything in life is unavoidable, even he knew it. But getting attached to Spicer? Now that was a dismally poor maneuver in the world of villainy.
"What happened?"
"Those stupid Xiaolin Monks are just… They're far more advanced. And they're learning more every day. I don't think they realize how easily they could put Jack in a hospital or worse, in a coffin. Please, Chase. If anyone can talk some sense into Jack, it's you."
Chase sighed. He pondered the issue, pondered Spicer. Where would he even start? The boy was relentlessly disastrous and completely helpless. He turned back to his table. It was covered in scrolls and maps which he sifted through, brushing aside spare quills.
His eyes fell on an old document. A contract. The one that boy Jermaine had signed under his tutelage, back when he'd been fixated on turning Omi to the side of evil. An idea sparked. What if…?
He turned back to Wuya.
"What if I made Spicer my apprentice?"
Wuya gaped at him.
"Chase, we want him to leave the conflict, not encourage him to stay and fight!"
"Who said anything about encouraging him? I'm suggesting we make him quit."
"… You've lost me."
Chase huffed, rolling his eyes. He brandished the old contract.
"If I can get Spicer to sign on as my apprentice, I will work him to the bone. He will be so tired and worn down, he won't be able to find the time or energy to leave my citadel. Wuya," he turned to her fully and the witch's eyebrows were raised, "I will make him quit."
Wuya puffed out her cheeks with a sigh.
"I don't know," she mused, shaking her head. "You may be surprised."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning your desire to make him quit may be outweighed by Jack's own stubbornness."
Chase scoffed.
"I doubt it. I'll start drawing up the contract right away."
-oOo-
Chase was as good as his word. When he wasn't focused on the typical duties that came with running a large kingdom, he was piecing together an apprenticeship contract.
It was unlike any contract he'd ever drawn up before. Jermaine's contract, since it was meant to be a temporary way to test Omi, was incredibly simple. He also had another contract, this one more legitimate, for his brief apprenticeship with Katnappe.
Typically, an apprenticeship was drawn up via negotiations between party A (Chase) and party B (the apprentice). He'd sat down with Katnappe and discussed the terms. It was this interaction more than any that made him regret taking her under his wing. The teen was… Insufferably selfish and more than a little bratty. Plus the cat puns grated on his nerves. Luckily for him, Jack replaced her relatively quickly. However, due to his ineptitude, the boy never actually got around to signing a contract.
Chase was planning on using this fact to his advantage. Jack was in the dark on the proceedings and intricacies that came with being an apprentice. He wouldn't give the boy the option of negotiations. He would bend and break to Chase's will.
"Jeez, Chase, are you sure you're not trying to kill him?"
Chase rolled his eyes, letting the scroll roll back up on it's own accord. Wuya, who was reading the new contract from across the table, straightened with a huff.
"If I am not harsh, Spicer will undoubtably persevere, even beyond the point of exhaustion. He endures those Xiaolin pests on a regular basis. I must not give him the option of enduring me."
"Giving him only five hours of sleep a night with three simple meals a day is not going to exhaust him, it's going to damage his health."
"You know as well as I do that he has the survivability of a cockroach. He'll live, I assure you."
Wuya crossed her arms, scowling.
"Chase, if you hurt him-!"
"Wuya," Chase said sharply, standing, palms flat on the table. "Do you want Spicer out of the Conflict or not?"
"Of course, I do!"
"Then trust me."
-oOo-
Jack had had worse. He examined the scorched patch of skin on his shin and winced. Kimiko had cut it really close this time. He knew they didn't like him but… If he didn't know better, he'd think they were trying to kill him.
He turned on the cold water, sitting on the edge of the tup in a tank top and boxers. Carefully, he shifted until his leg was under the flow and he groaned through his teeth, throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. He shook from the chill but didn't budge; it needed to soak.
After five minutes, he patted it dry. Under the sink was a tub of aloe vera gel and he retrieved it, smoothing a generous layer on over the burn.
Padding through his lab from the bathroom, he plopped down on the couch in the corner. He flinched, looking at the bruise that'd blossomed on his bicep from where Clay had clipped him. It ached miserably which meant he'd have to sleep on his opposite side.
Oh, well.
Even though it was still fairly early in the afternoon, he felt rather run down. He could go to bed early, he decided, but first he needed something to eat. He picked up his phone, debating on whether he wanted a burger or pizza.
Unbeknownst to him, a swirl of black Heylin magic materialized at the far end of the lab. Chase Young, in all his armored glory, stepped out of the vortex. His expression was set, determined. He sneered at Spicer where he lay on his side, staring at that tiny, glowing screen.
"Get up, Spicer."
Jack startled, falling off the couch with a yelp. He stared up at Chase from the floor, wide-eyed and frozen. Chase glared.
"Chase! What are you doing-?"
"I said, get up, worm."
Jack scrambled to his feet. He swallowed his words nervously as Chase stared him down.
"I hear you were an utter disaster today, Spicer. Am I correct in my assumptions?"
"Uh…" Jack flushed. "I, um… I didn't get the Wu, if that's what you mean."
"I see," Chase hummed. His eyes flickered to the large bruise on Jack's arm, to the shining burn on his leg. "You do realize you're fighting a losing battle, don't you?"
"It just wasn't my day. I'll get the next one."
"Indeed. Tell me, Spicer, have you ever stopped to consider that the Xiaolin Monks have had years of training? That they are still progressing while you remain stagnant in your abilities?"
"Th-that's…!" Jack stuttered, trying to ignore the fact that Chase had stepped closer, almost looming over him. "I-I've learned things! I've improved!"
"It appears you have failed to realize that it is not enough. You are not enough."
There was a painful lump in Jack's throat. Because he knew that was true.
"In lieu of that, I have a proposition for you."
"Chase, the last time you propositioned me, I spent a couple of days as a monkey."
Chase snapped his fingers and Jack flinched at the noise. A scroll unravelled from thin air, the cursive words glistening gold.
"I assure you, this is very different sort of proposition. Know what this is, Spicer?"
Jack eyed the scroll. He shook his head.
"It's an apprenticeship contract."
Jack's eyes flashed from the scroll to Chase, unable to stifle his gasp. Chase held up a hand, stoppering the flow of babbling thanks that threatened to burst from the boy.
"Before you accept, you must understand what this means," he said, voice dangerously low. "You will be following the schedule I set for you. You must do everything I say, when I say, bending over backwards to do my will. You will live at the citadel and in return, I will teach you how to fight and the way of the Heylin Warrior."
Jack's head spun. He couldn't believe his luck. People like him didn't get second chances. Yet here it was. His chance.
"Mark my words, Spicer," Chase continued. "If you fail to meet my terms, I will dismiss you. And by dismiss you, I mean you will leave the Conflict."
Jack's heart skipped a beat. Leave? Leave? After all the time and effort, blood and tears, that went into chasing after Shen Gong Wu and executing plans for world domination… Leave? What was left? His robotics? All he knew was how to build weapons at this point. He'd have to relearn his entire craft from the ground up!
"Those are my terms. Now you can either reject my offer and continue being a pathetic failure, or you can accept my offer and become the force of evil you've always dreamt of. Do we have a deal?"
"I…"
Jack's mind spun with Chase's offer. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever expect this. He tried to weigh the options carefully but there was just no competition. At the age of 15, his parents were never home, he had no siblings, and he'd already graduated from high school via private tutors. It was either this apprenticeship or… What? Continue getting his ass handed to him on a regular basis?
He looked up at Chase, who was waiting patiently for his answer.
"Yes. Yes, I accept," Jack finally said resolutely. "I won't let you down, Chase."
Chase waved his hand, a quill appearing beside the scroll along with… A knife. Jack eyed it suspiciously.
"Uh… What's the knife for?"
"You thought a deal with the devil would be signed without the shedding of blood?" Chase said wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Palm out, Spicer."
Jack held out his left hand shakily, breaking into a cold sweat. Chase placed the blade against his palm and, with a flash of silver, cut a clean line across the skin. Jack hissed as the blood pooled. It dripped down onto the sign-line at the bottom of the contract.
"Now sign."
Jack took the quill in his right hand. He scratched his name out, the crimson stain glistening in the basement's low light…
The contract rolled up on it's own accord, it and the instruments vanishing. Jack looked up at his new master with an excited grin. It slid right off his face at the ice in Chase's eyes.
"Pack a bag. If you are not back here before me in 10 minutes, I will leave without you."
Jack tore out of the lab.
-oOo-
Jack skidded to a halt in front of Chase with one minute to spare. His duffle bag was slung over his shoulder, packed with only the necessities. He was panting, having not even paused to actually get dressed, paranoid he'd be late.
The swirl of magic lifted their hair as Chase teleported them out of the lab. When the black swirls dissipated, they were standing in his throne room. Jack released a shaky breath. This was it. No turning back.
"Follow me."
Chase led Jack through a side door, down a long hallway, around a corner. He opened a wooden door to reveal… A cell? No, a room. A room small enough to be a cell. In it was a single bed with fur coverings, a chest of drawers, and a door leading to what Jack guessed was a bathroom.
"Get dressed and meet me in the throne room. Training starts in 10 minutes."
Chase closed the door behind him. Jack's mind was a whirlwind. For a moment, he stared around at the dismal room. He swallowed, heart thrumming in his throat.
He tossed his duffle bag down on the bed, unzipping it and pulling out sweatpants. He tugged them on, also putting on canvas shoes. His hands shook as he tied them. Was it just him or was Chase already pissed? Jack hadn't even had the chance to piss him off yet! This didn't inspire confidence in the least.
Chase was waiting for Jack when he arrived. Standing in the center of the room, he was holding two staffs.
"We will go over your schedule and the rules momentarily. But first, I need to assess your… Skills."
He sneered the last word and Jack was pretty sure that in Chase's eyes, he had no skills to speak of. Which wasn't true. Jack had skills, certainly. Just not any that Chase valued.
And definitely not in the way he was about to be tested.
Jack almost didn't catch the staff that was thrown at him. But he was glad he did; one second he was clutching the staff in his clammy hands, the next Chase was swinging at him.
"Whoa!"
He jumped back, holding the staff with both hands like a shield. Chase's staff came down on it, the other end coming around in an arc, slamming into Jack's side. He jumped to the side with a grunt, swinging his staff experimentally, the bruise on his arm twinging sharply at the movement. Chase knocked the end out of the way with ease, turning and jabbing the end into Jack's stomach. His air escaped in a gasp and he stumbled back. Chase nailed the back of Jack's knees and he buckled with a cry, flat on his back, breathless. Pinned, the staff against his throat.
"Pathetic," Chase hissed. "You know nothing. I will have to start completely from scratch."
He pulled away and Jack rolled over onto his hands and knees, coughing.
"Get up."
Jack obeyed, rising shakily. The burn on his leg throbbed miserably from the unexpected activity. He held the staff close to his chest, tight in his fists. Chase circled him slowly and as he did so, he spoke.
"From henceforth you will address me as either 'sir' or 'master'. Your schedule will be fairly simple. You will wake early and run a mile. After breakfast, drills. After lunch, sparring with both weapons and hand-to-hand combat. After dinner, chores. And you will not be going to bed until I say you are done for the day."
Jack was willing himself not to cry, trying to keep his shaking to a minimum. This was going to be far more intense than he'd thought it was going to be. He was so screwed. He'd either emerge a completely different person or Chase was going to murder him.
"You will eat what I give you and when I say so, sleep when I tell you, I say 'jump', you say 'how high', is that clear?"
"Crystal, sir."
Unseen by Jack, the corner of Chase's lips quirked up; as much as he loathed to admit it, respect was attractive in the boy's mouth. He reached out, prying the staff from his fingers, almost gently.
"Have you eaten?"
Jack, taken aback by the question, stuttered.
"N-no."
"No, what?"
"No, sir."
Chase snapped his fingers. A tiger stepped forward. It bowed its head in respect.
"Take him back to his quarters then to the nearest bathroom. Spicer, I expect you to shower and wash out that awful hair gel. Make-up off, too. Dinner is at 6. You're dismissed."
As Jack was led away, Wuya stepped out of the shadows. She was trying to appear nonchalant but Chase could see the tell-tale sign of worry in her eyes.
"He's not going to quit, you know."
"We have only just begun, Wuya. Spicer has not yet experienced how harsh of a master I can be. Have a little faith."
"Faith," Wuya scoffed. "I'll believe you can break him when I see it."
"And you will," Chase assured her, signing off on the dinner menu a lion brought him. "It is only a matter of time. And patience."
He gave her a pointed look and she rolled her eyes.
"Will you be joining us for dinner?"
"I may as well."
-oOo-
The tiger padded down the halls quietly. Jack followed, rubbing at his neck where Chase's staff had choked him. If he'd pushed down just a little harder… He didn't want to think of snapped necks and asphyxiation. It would definitely bruise.
Once back at Jack's room, the tiger transformed into a tall warrior wearing furs. His eyes were narrow, dark and calculating, strands of ebony hair falling into them.
"There are towels in the wardrobe," he spoke in a low tone, voice smooth. "Retrieve your toiletries and rejoin me."
He waited in the hall for Jack.
"So, um…" Jack started quietly as he followed the warrior, holding his towel and toiletry bag to his chest. "What's your name?"
"My name is of no importance," he rumbled. "I have been assigned to your well-being and that is all you need to know."
"Alrighty then…"
"If you have any questions at all, I will be the one to answer them for you. I would resist asking the master; he is not known for his patience."
Jack definitely already knew that. At the end of the hallway was a door that the warrior opened and Jack couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. Inside was a large room with several pools of water sunk right into them. Steam rose in curling swirls from the placid surfaces, so he assumed they were natural hot springs.
"This is a public bath. Don't bother the other warriors and they won't bother you."
Ice cold dread washed over Jack like a wave and he shivered involuntarily.
"It's 5:15. I would not suggest being late for dinner."
"O-okay, thanks…"
Jack was left alone. He looked around frantically, praying he was the only one utilizing the room. It appeared he was and he finally breathed easier. Finding the pool farthest from the door, he placed his stuff in a corner and stripped down.
The water was warm, really warm, borderline hot. He gritted his teeth against the pain as it enveloped the burn on his leg. He slid in completely, relieved that he could touch the bottom. The water came up to his chest, nearly covering his shoulders. He dipped down to fully wet his hair.
His toiletry kit was an emergency one he had stashed in his helipack a long time ago. It contained shampoo, soap, sunscreen, deodorant, toothpaste, a toothbrush, make-up wipes, and eyeliner. With the chaos and unpredictability of Showdowns, it paid to be prepared. And damn, he was glad he had it.
He took a make-up wipe to his eyeliner, scrubbing his face and then body with the bar of soap. Then he shampooed his hair, getting the grime of the day out of it. He checked his phone. 5:30.
He took deep breaths to calm himself. He was in this now. No backing out. Even if Chase was an absolute tyrant. If Jack left the conflict, he'd have nothing. Villains didn't plan back-up careers.
Jack arrived in the dining room with 10 minutes to spare. When Chase turned to look at him, he stared for a moment; red hair hung limply around Jack's ears, wet but brushed out. Without the harsh black eyeliner, he looked like a completely different person.
"Take a seat."
He indicated one of the two other chairs at the table. The other was occupied by Wuya.
"Almost didn't recognize you without your eyeliner, Jack."
"Hello to you, too," Jack sniffed as he sat. Chase cleared his throat and Jack took it as an order to shut his mouth. Which he did.
He looked at the bowl set before him. It was simple. Grilled chicken with some kind of sauce and green beans with eggplant over white steamed rice. Green tea in a cup. He took the chopsticks in hand then froze at the look Wuya was giving him. She was already eating but she shook her head minutely, eyeing the chopsticks.
Then Jack remembered. He looked to Chase for confirmation. The man, who'd been watching the exchange, nodded. He ate quietly.
"Which of the monks gave you that one?"
Jack looked up at Wuya then at the bruise on his bicep she'd indicated. He swallowed his mouthful.
"Clay," he muttered with a scowl. "That southern asshole got me with the Fist of Tebigong. Surprised he didn't break my arm, actually."
Chase took this moment to get a better look at the bruise. It took up most of Spicer's upper arm, horribly black and blue. The arm itself was thin, long and lanky… Chase realized he would likely hit a growth spurt in a year or so. He was only 16, after all.
It then occurred to Chase how strange it was to meet a 16 year old with plans for world domination. Where had Spicer's obsession with evil come from? Where had Spicer's obsession with him, Chase Young, come from?
It didn't matter. The boy would quit. Chase would make sure of it.
"Don't you have the Reversing Mirror?"
"Yeah, I do, but it's getting harder to block them; they're a lot faster than they used to be."
"That reminds me," Chase interjected smoothly. "Unless I approve it, you will not be going out to retrieve any Shen Gong Wu."
Jack turned his head sharply, gaping.
"What? B-but that's-!"
Chase set down his chopsticks with a sharp sound that rang throughout the room, effectively cutting Jack off.
"Stand."
Jack's chair screeched as he made to follow the order. His fists clenched, partially in fear. Part of him was pissed. He wasn't allowed to go after Shen Gong Wu anymore? He guessed he should've assumed… After all, didn't Chase repeatedly call them toys? Crutches for true power?
Chase had also stood. Wuya watched in interest.
"Allow me to reiterate what I said earlier. Your progression up until this point has not been on par with the Xiaolin monks. Severely lacking as you are in your ability to fight them, you will not be leaving to participate in Showdowns until I say you are ready. Are we clear?"
Jack felt the heat creep up his neck. Chase raised an eyebrow.
"I said… Are we clear?"
"… Yes, master."
Wuya nearly swallowed her soup spoon. She coughed harshly. Chase nodded.
"Sit. Finish your meal."
Jack obeyed. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
-oOo-
AN: Well? What do you think? Let me know!
Wild will be updated next weekend! Stay tuned!
-P3ac3fulFor3st
