Title: Lost and Found

Author: ScathingSarcasm

Pairings/Characters: Chack

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own XS or related characters.

Warnings: Violence, language and gore. Possible future citrus. SLASH.

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Jack looked down with horrified crimson eyes at the growing pool of blood spreading from his side, and the lifeless chunk of flesh lying innocently on the desert ground. He wondered through the haze of excruciating pain, how it had come to this. The day had started out normally enough...

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FlashBack

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"Haha! You'll never win Jack Spicer! Prepare for a most humiliating defeat!"

"Don't you ever get tired of that line? And dream on, Baldie, this Shen Gong Wu is mine!" Jack shot back at the pompous monk, hovering over the gathering of monks heads with his heli-pack. He let a conceited smirk take over his face - he had to win this time. He only had three Shen Gong Wu left in his arsenal, and at this rate it was just a matter of time until he lost them.

"Wait, Dojo, what exactly does this Wu do? You never told us." the only girl in the group asked, cocking her head confusedly.

Jack grinned at the fool, half-disgusted and half-amused. Of course, the dragon opened his mouth, giving away valuable information. He could have just downsized and told only the monks, but instead he boomed out to the entire world,

"This Shen Gong Wu is the RaiDon Raygun. It shoots a powerful burst of energy that can pierce any armor, including the Two Ton Tunic." Just like fifteen or so other Shen Gong Wu, he thought sardonically. Really, couldn't the master monks be a bit more creative?

"That is, how you say, of low temperature!" the yellow monk shouted, grinning widely. The other teens facepalmed, and Rai corrected, "Cool, Omi. It's cool."

"That too!"

"Whatever, losers! I'll definitely find it before you anyway!" he shouted over the wind that had suddenly picked up. Proving his point, he observed where his Wu detector had lead him. It appeared to be a small desert town, plains stretching endlessly to and from the tiny oasis.

Setting his detector to a smaller range, he looked up to see the arrow pointing towards a worn down building with a ratty, brightly colored sign outside that read; "Second Hand Toys". An ironic smile tugged at his lips. One of the most powerful magical items in existence, and he could probably buy it with the change in his pocket. In fact... he dug his gloved hand into the deep pocket of his waistcoat, and came up with a fist full of coins. He definitely could - no need to make things more difficult and draw attention by stealing the Wu. He searched for the enemy warriors, and found them a good ways away, shouting at their dragon. Apparently, his Wu sensing abilities were on the fritz, yet again. He snorted contemptibly. Why didn't they just use the modern technology that was obviously available to them, if the fire monk Kimiko was any indication? Were they so set in the old ways that they couldn't accept what could be a serious advantage for them? Well, if they couldn't, all the better for him. It would be that much easier to gather more Wu.

He strode quickly into the store, lest the other teens catch sight of him and follow. The kindly old lady behind the counter looked twice at his gothic attire, but never the less smiled at him in a grandmotherly fashion. He grinned back charmingly - no need to make a bad impression. In this day and age, entire relationship could be decided by first impressions.

Scanning over the rickety shelves filled with battered and ancient looking blocks, plushies and an assortment of mini-cars, a scifi-like gun immediately caught his eye under the section of 'water guns'. He picked it up, eyeing it with amusement. He checked the detector - yup, this was it. Glowing a sickly green on the mini monitor of his 'watch', the gun emitted strong waves of magical power.

It certainly didn't look powerful... more like a cheesy alien raygun from some low-budget scifi movie. Never the less, he carried it over to the counter, letting the elderly cashier ring him up on an old fashion register. He chuckled out his amusement as he dumped the $1.50 in change into the confused woman's hand. Magic bought cheap.

Hearing the rambunctious voices of the xiaolins outside of the entryway, he cast around for an exit. The house-made-store must have been extremely old, because it had an old fashion fireplace in the corner (a fireplace in the desert, go figure, though he supposed it did get cold at night…). As the woman turned her attention towards the group of teens walking through the entryway, he dashed to, and straight in, the fireplace. Quickly, he sidled up to one side and braced his leg onto the opposite wall, lifting himself up and out of view. He could hear the muffled voices of the warriors through the ash-blackened bricks.

"Hey Gramma, you seen any suspicious looking guys come in here? Maybe with red hair, weirdo drawings on his face? Tacky black trench? Any 'o this ringing a bell?" the accented, snide voice of Pedrosa was heard. He snorted derisively. Sure, that was exactly how to go about gathering information – insulting the person that could help you. And his trench was not tacky!

He was often startled by how… unpleasant the 'Good' side could be. They were definetely not all sunshine and daisies.

Apparently, the woman had the same thoughts. She replied stiffly, "I certainly have no idea what you mean, young man. Perhaps you should show a bit more respect for your elders."

Pedrosa snorted, "Whatever, old lady. C'mon, guys, he's not here."

The footsteps started across the floor, sounding farther away, but them the small, squeaky voice that was obviously Omi's spoke up,

"Wait, friends. I think I sense a presence nearby."

He stiffened, cursing the monk's tiger senses. He had been submitting myself to a rigorous bout of training lately (taught by his new 'Sensei-Bot') and had apparently built up enough strength to register on Omi's tiger senses. If he couldn't think on his feet, and fast, he was done for.

"That's quite enough, you young'uns! If you're not going to buy anything, then you must leave. Go on, get!"

Little old lady to the rescue! Thank God.

"You can come down now, dear. Those children are gone now." The lady's sweet voice called to him. He immediately let his leg, which were trembling from the strain of holding himself up, fall to the ground, and they almost crumpled beneath him. He grimaced as he felt his custom tailored trench coat scrap against the sooty walls of his hiding place. Climbing out into the dimly lit toy shop, he was faced with the woman's badly concealed laughter.

"What?" he asked, confused. The cashier didn't give a verbal reply, but dug into her pocket and held up a hand-held mirror for him to see himself in. The reason for his mirth was quite clear.

His normally flawless, porcelain white face was smudged thoroughly with black and gray soot, so much so that he looked like he had gone overboard with his usual make-up. Undoubtedly he was covered from head to foot in the stuff.

He huffed indignantly. And he had spent so long moisturizing this morning, too! Oh well. He turned his attention to the old woman, but she had vanished. Looking about himself curiously, he called tentatively to the empty room, "Um… ma'am? Are you here?"

"I'm in the back, dear! One moment!" Came a melodic voice from the back room. Waiting, for once not entirely impatient, he watched with confusion as the woman emerged with a doting smile creasing her aged face. She held out a damp washcloth.

"For you face."

He couldn't help but give her a thankful and somewhat roguish grin, quickly wiping down his sooty face. He handed the blackened cloth back to her. "Thanks, lady!"

"No problem at all, dearie. You have a good day, now." And she shooed him out of her store.

Eyes darting furiously up and down the abandoned roadway, he saw no sign of the Xiaolin brats. Sighing with what he realized was an embarrassing amount of relief, he relaxed just the slightest bit.

That was a mistake.

A piercing blow struck his turned back, thrusting him forward into the parched desert ground. He coughed and gasped for breath, sensing with absolute clarity that something was in him, and it needed to be out right now. Reaching painfully behind himself, he grasped the object protruding from his back and yanked sharply. He stared in disbelief at the bloody source of his pain.

An arrow.

They fucking shot him, with an arrow.

Wait… who? The Xiaolin, as nasty as they could often be, refused to use deadly force on they opponents. At least, consciously. He could recall plenty of times they had come close to killing him without realizing it.

But not like this. Never like this.

He turned in place slowly, lifting his head to discover the face of his attacker. Wuya stood confident and remorseless on the roof, a proud smirk on he face. Glancnig down at the arrow in his hand, he only just noticed it glowed an eerie green with supernatural energy. He nearly dropped it like a hot potato, but forced himself to hang onto it. He slipped it into his subtly. Magic, no matter how easy for him to track, was not easy to come across. This could be useful for his experiments – that is, if he could make it out of this alive.

"Wuya." He growled, simultaneously tensing his back muscles experimentally, checking for damage. The wound wasn't life threatening, missing all of his vital organs, and not even really penetrating that deep. The ancient witch was a lousy shot.

"Jaaaack…" The green haired devil purred, sounding almost like Katnappe for a moment. "How lovely to see you. Oh, did that hurt? So sorry, my hand just… slipped!"

Cue evil laughter.

He nearly rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. Even without magic, Wuya was a formidable opponent.

And of course… his eyes widened in horrified realization.

Where Wuya was…

"Hello, Jack." A smug voice sounded behind him.

Chase was too.

He barely muffled a girlish screech, hand instinctively reaching to his waistband where he had tucked his newest Wu-acquisition minutes before. Chase beat him to it by a mile, gloved hands gripping his thin wrists harshly, stretching them like a hand puppet's to either side of himself. The RaiDon Raygun went skittering across the desert floor, landing several meters away. He nearly whimpered, but managed to force out in a shaking voice,

"Wh-why are you here, Chase? I know you're not interested in the Wu, and I thought your whole bag was testing the Xioalin losers, not me."

"Oh, Jack," The overlord chuckled darkly into his ear, "your thought process is so simple. Can you not look towards the bigger scale? That is why you always fail at your world-conquering schemes – besides the fact that they are stupid. You think to small scale. In order to be big… you have to think big." His grip tightened painfully, and this time, Jack did whimper.

"But that's not why I came here today." His voice was now brisk. "I am intrigued by your newest project. You know the one of which I speak."

He felt himself stiffen in shock. "Project Faust? Why would you be interested in that? And better yet, why confront me here? You could've just come to my Lair."

"True. However, you have improved your security drastically as of late – protecting something, perhaps? Even with all my power, I did not want to risk using the force necessary to break through your security and damage your experiments. They could be useful to me. And you are a surprisingly hard person to get a hold of – you really must get out more, dear Jack." Even with his back turned, he could sense the immortal's smirk.

This, for some reason, enraged him. "Perhaps, then, dear Chase, you should take your search elsewhere. Project Faust isn't for sale, and neither are my services. Not anymore. You made it perfectly clear in the past that you weren't interested in anything I have to offer, and that won't change now. I won't be used."

Chase looked shocked for a split second, but a dangerous smile soon overtook his angular face at his scathing retort. With false casualness, the everlord leaned his pointed chin on his slender shoulder, he breath tickling the bared skin of his neck. He could feel the razors-edge of a pointed fang touch lightly to the fragile tissue, in warning. "You should think twice before speaking so thoughtlessly to those more powerful than you. It could be… detrimental, to your health."

"I… I meant what I said." God, what was he doing? What had possessed him? "I won't take it back."

The dragon's voice darkened, and his clawed hand released one wrist to creep up and clutch around his throat tightly. "This new display of backbone is beginning to loose it's appeal. You will hand over all of your research on Project Faust, and continue to do so until I tell you otherwise."

What was this daring feeling that was overcoming him? He had never felt so… brave. Perhaps it was because, despite their positions, he knew he had the advantage in this battle. Chase obviously wanted his new project, for some unfathomable reason, and wouldn't damage him until he got his hands on it.

He couldn't let that happen.

He forced a confident smirk onto his face and his hand shot up to reveal a tiny red button strapped to the center of his palm. He could practically taste Chase's wary curiosity.

"Did you really think I would meddle in something so dangerous without a backup plan? It's kind of poetic, even – you're like my Mephistopheles. But I won't be consumed by my work! You harm out hair on my head, and I'll press this little red button, and destroy all on my work!"

The immortal's voice now held an almost undetectable undercurrent of uncertainty. "You wouldn't dare. I know from a reliable source that you've been working on this 'secret project' for at least three years! You, obsessive little thing you are, wouldn't just throw away all that hard work."

A knowing chuckle bubbled over his lips. "You underestimate both my genius, wonderful and vast that it is, and my obsessive tendencies. If you think I couldn't bare to loose my work, you'd be right – which is why I've committed every text, schematic and data file to memory."

Chase's undignified gasp was music to his ears. He jauntily poked at his crimson-haired temple.

"It's all squirreled away in here. So, if you want the nut, you'll have to crack the shell! Want to give it a try?"

He was enjoying this way too much.

"As entertaining as the squirrel puns may be, Spicer, I will not yield on this matter. If I cannot obtain what I want from you…"

That large, callused hand slide down the column of his neck, over his shoulder to rest at the junction that connected his arm to his torso. Against his will, he left out a violent shiver as the implications set in.

"Then I will have to take something else from you."

He clutched desperately to his last remaining thread of hope and composure. "Y-you're bluffing. I may not be fast, but I can push this button faster than you can cleave through flesh and bone."

The overlord's tone was silk covered steel, dripping with poisonous sweetness.

"Would you like to bet on that?"

No. No he would not.

Could not.

He could practically feel his defenses crumbling and suppressed a sigh. It would always be like this.

"…Okay, Chase. Fine – " He cut himself off with an agonized scream as pain exploded from his arm, drowning out all other sensation in a blinding flash of white-hot agony. His shoulder was on fire, as if an invisible hand had shoved a thousand burning needles into his flesh. Chase had jumped away at the last second, but his startled gasp echoed eerily in his mind as he tried desperately to block out the pain.

Blearily aware that he was still emitting pathetic little whimpering noises as he rocked himself back and forth, cradling his injured shoulder, he looked up at the source of his pain.

Wuya stood with the RaiDon Raygun held loftily in front of her, a vicious grin on her face.

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End Flashback

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"Wuya!"

Chase's enraged snarl cracked through the encompassing silence that had overtaken the desert air. The monks, who had arrived only moments before, looked sickened by the blood pooling around his feet. One of the even seemed to be throwing up.

The witch looked startled and puzzled over the dragon's reaction. She waved the deadly Wu with careless grace in front of herself, saying in a indifferent voice, "What's with the fit, Young? I only did what you were threatening to do – the worm was being a bit to uppity for my comfort."

The immortal's yellow eyes glowed with fury as he advanced on the now nervous Wuya.

"I was bluffing, you fool! He was about to submit to me without a fight! Now, even if I can manage to re-attach his arm, any and all trust in me will have been lost! You complete and utter fool!"

His gloved hand latched onto her throat as it had his own moments before, choking all air from the Heylin's windpipe and forcing her to splutter for breath. Chase's shouts gave way to a furious hiss.

"If I ever find you interfering with that which belongs to me, I will personally see to it that you never live to breathe this sweet air again. Do you understand me?"

At Wuya's frantic nods, he effortlessly threw the witch before him, watching stonily as she collided with a 'crack!' with a stone jutting from the earth.

He turned urgently around to find the monk's attending to his injured prize, desparately attempting to stem the flow of crimson life gushing from his stump at the shoulder.

Jack stared with horrified eyes at what was left of his limb on the desert floor before shifting to look up at the source to the shadow being cast upon him. Chase Young loomed over him with uncommonly soft eyes, and kneeled before him.

They're almost like molten gold, he thought vaguely as he was lifted up into the immortal's arms, nestled against the shining armor warmed by the midday sun. He could feel the sickening weight of his missing limb placed gently on his stomach, and clutched onto it convulsively, as if holding it would make it part of him again. He was hardly aware as the agony in his arm, or what had previously been his arm, was soothed away as if my a magic invisible hand.

However, he was very aware of the deep, quiet voice that whispered in his ear a command to rest.

He obeyed.

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This is something that has been sitting in the back on my Docs for months. I finally got around to paying some attention to it, seeing as I seem to have incurable writer's block for "The Porcelain Child" at the moment. (Don't worry, despite my pessimism, I haven't abandoned it. I'll continue to try and write through the block.)

I am prone to very short chapters, so to get out of the habit, I won't post the next chapter until it is at least 2,000 words long. This may take a while, but I have the plot reasonably far planned ahead, so I will eventually post. Please, try to be patient. This is just another step for me towards becoming a respectable writer.

Anyway, I hope this get a favorable response.

I will personally respond to any and all reviews I get. Constructive criticism is appreciated and will be taken into account in all my future writing.

I will not respond to any flames, so don't bother writing them, especially concerning my slash content.

SS