Jack finished his wine with a simple tip of his head, exposing the long column of his neck though there were no living beings in the room to admire the gesture. Darkened eyes slid across the now lifeless bodies of the people he once knew in his childhood, the albino man snapped his unoccupied fingers. An android was immediately at attention.

"Are any of Shelley's family still around?" His tone was cold, lacking genuine interest.

A few lights across the metal humanoid's chest flashed before it answered in a smooth automated voice, "No, Master."

Jack sighed, handing the delicate wine glass to the automaton before wiping his hands against his knees, smearing the arterial droplets of Kimiko's blood that had landed there. "Pity. Very well, bring these down and have her stuff them. I want them all fit to be put in my trophy room by tomorrow night." With that, the robot was dismissed.

Looking down at the blood-spattered floor of his throne room, Jack let his mind momentarily wander. When he was sixteen, the sight of even the tiniest drop of the crimson liquid made him queasy yet he had just witnessed all four of his previous rivals being relieved of nearly all of the stuff.

A quote from one of Jack's favorite movies wriggled into his stream of consciousness. Relief or regret? With the monks gone, no one was truly in a position to stop him. He could nullify the powers of all Shen Gong Wu magic and the elemental powers. The only person who had a power outside of the use of Shen Gong Wu was Chase, and the draconic warrior was currently waiting for him in his bedroom. As Jack rose, he found himself beaming with his ability to answer Quentin Tarantino's question.

Relief.

Chase sat perfectly still, levitating a few feet off the floor of Jack's carrier-craft bedroom. He was stripped down to his silk trousers, the very picture of calm when he sensed the triumphant approach of Jack Spicer. Cracking open an eye, Chase smirked as the door automatically slid open to allow the younger man's entrance. His smirk faded, however, upon the sight of a small decoration of droplets upon Jack's left cheek.

The ancient warlord smoothly dropped out of the air and onto his feet, his years of practice allowing him to easily reach out and grab the albino's chin in mere seconds. In a display of his maturity, Jack did not yelp or pull away. He only tensed, staring at Chase in bewilderment at the man's actions. A thumb swiped through the drying liquid, smearing it prettily across the lily-white cheek and depositing it onto the warrior's finger.

Chase pulled his hand away, sniffing the offending digit before gold eyes snapped onto Jack.

"What is this?" It was a low, almost growled demand. The robotics genius did not back down as he would in his younger days. He met Chase's eye, unfaltering, with a bored expression.

"Blood."

The golden eyes narrowed, pupils becoming slits in anger. "Whose?"

Jack looked at Chase's hand thoughtfully; looking completely unbothered by the dangerous man's mounting fury.

"I believe that was Raimundo's, but I could be wrong." His eyes flicked back up to meet the older man's. "Why do you ask?"

"YOU KILLED THEM?" The question was roared, Chase's chest heaved, his fangs bared. Jack finally showed an emotion. He quirked an eyebrow at the display of rage, stepping back as if his only fear was he might get spit on from the force of the speech. When his eyes had once again met the now glowing orbs of Chase, his brows furrowed.

"Yes, Chase I killed them. I'm not finished." He stated, seeing the warrior opening his mouth to speak. Jack narrowed his eyes, looking every bit the evil, angry businessman he was.

"I killed them, because for the last thirteen years of my life, I have been trying to beat them. That's half of my life, Chase. Half of my life, the Xioalin monks have been a part of it. After five years of taunting and teasing, of failing at being everything I wanted to be I needed to strike out on my own. I failed at that too and they came and saw that too. Shelley, despite her limited vision, was the springboard I needed to enact my revenge. I wanted them broken and bleeding. I wanted everything they had done to me to happen to them and I wanted to be the one to pull the trigger. That's why I started this project. And once they had seen what I had become, what I was capable of; I did exactly what everyone has done to me when I was deemed no longer useful. I disposed of them."

Jack was trembling ever so slightly from his own conviction, his eyes focused on Chase in a challenging glare. His entire being was radiating power; he was daring the warrior to try him. Try to test his strengths. Go ahead, take the swing. But Chase inhaled, giving him a sidelong look of annoyance.

"I thought we were in this together, Spicer."

Jack was silent for a moment, waiting to see if Chase would go on. When he did not, he slowly exhaled, trying not to lose his diction but not wanting to fight either.

"I procured Dojo and I have a cloning program underway to ensure you can continue to have your immortality through your soups. It is my gift to you, unless you want to walk away from me."

The dragon-lord turned fully towards the younger man, considering him carefully. He knew this day would come, when they would both want the world and would need to choose.

"And if I do?"

Jack hid the emotional blow well, crossing his arms over his chest for both optical affect and to give himself reassurance.

"I will destroy Dojo, the program, and every other living dragon."

Chase blinked, despite the slightly insecure stance, his senses were screaming Jack's sincerity. The older man weighted his options carefully. Life pitted against Jack, who'd kill off his food supply until he was forced to wither away. He could simply kill the impudent little worm and take the program, living out his years in his lair… Or he could have an eternity of Jack's supple body, guaranteed Lao Mang Long until the end of time and shared world domination…

Chase Young was not a stupid man. Which was why he stepped forward, caught Jack's hips in his hands, dragged the younger man forward and licked the blood smear from his smooth cheek.

Omi's blood.

"You've made your choice then?"

Instead of verbally replying, the warrior continued with the tongue on skin contact, tracing the curvature of Jack's jaw and neck. If he had to choose, he wanted the best, and the techno genius had proven himself more than worthy of his time and attention these last few years.

It was about time he repaid that effort.