HOME | DD

Description
Jack Spicer, evil criminal mastermind.

Nineteen years old and already a prominent name on the list of international criminals.
He cut a dashing figure, with his paper-white skin, red eyes and sunset hair; his neat suits, black and pristine, only accentuated his unusual features.
And he was currently bored out of his mind.

“Yeh, yeh. We’ve tried the whole thing before. A magical Cyclops? Been there, done that. Off you go.”
The crestfallen interviewee rose from his seat and left through the door. A second later, there was a gunshot.

Jack Spicer’s plans were far too precious for just any idiot to know about.

“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Tell them all to go wait somewhere.”
Jack was, of course, referring to the potential scheme planners who had come for interviews. The last one had died in suspicious circumstances.

Jack Spicer trusted no-one. And his old planner had gathered far too much information for comfort.

He flashed a dazzling smile at his secretary, who smiled sweetly and nodded.
It really was time to replace her too.

***

Jack Spicer was no longer a child.
He had left that world behind, with its good and evil, its Xiaolin monks and Heylin villains, its dragons and Shen-Gong-Wu.
Now, all that mattered was money and technology.

No longer was he the naïve, gangly goth he had once been. No more overlong trench coats, no more Jackbots. His suits had replaced his black clothing, and his new robots were far more sophisticated than the outdated floating designs of a thirteen-year-old mind.
All that was his childhood. And his childhood was gone.

Jack took a tentative sip of the near-cold coffee, then made a face, spat it out, and placed the cup carefully back on the table.
“Gross,” he muttered, before taking a strip of chewing gum and proceeding with that instead. Jack prided himself on his oral hygiene- yellow teeth were a thing of the past. Plus, it seemed to put people off if a known villain had a perfect smile. It was never expected.
That was something I learned from Chase.

There were some things Jack was not yet ready to give up, though. One was his hair, dyed orange-red in an attempt to hide his albinism. One was his yellow goggles, which even now sat atop his hairline. And the final and hardest thing to give up was the memory of his hero, the disputed greatest martial artist and one of the evillest villains of all time- Chase Young. After four years of detaching himself from the Heylin and the Xiaolin, from anything of his childhood that he could, Jack still idolised Chase to the point of insanity. In everything he ever did, he was always trying his best to emulate the man’s skill and grace, his unique and honourable style of evil.

But Jack was still Jack, and always would be- and that made it hard. This Jack was perhaps a Jack without clumsiness, without makeup, without his useless Jackbots- but Jack nonetheless, and Jack could not help being the ‘good’ villain- the one to whom true evil was unachievable. For all his success, Jack was not bad to his heart.

All the same, Jack was most definitely not a child. He was not who he had been once. There had always been a dangerous person, whether good, evil or neither, deep inside- someone worthy of attention. And despite the mockery of his youth, despite the taunts of everyone who had thought Jack would never be anyone, he was someone. He was strong. He had purpose. Most of all, he had dreams; attainable ones.

The original dream, the one of being an evil boy genius, stemmed from three minutes of his past; the three minutes in which his father had died, seven years after the birth of Jacob Spicer II. Jacob Spicer I had been a notable criminal genius; perhaps not on the level of the greats, but very much recognised. He had called his young son to him on his deathbed and said to him, haltingly and painfully,
“Whatever happens, don’t let the name of Spicer fall into the mud. It’s down to you to save it.”
To this, seven-year-old Jack had replied through tears, “I’d take over the world if you wanted me to, father.”
Jacob had smiled and closed his eyes for the last time.
And Jack had taken that to mean yes.

At sixteen years old, Jack Spicer had written down a list of all his dreams, gone through them, and eliminated the unachievable ones. These included gaining all the Shen-Gong-Wu, being as good as Chase Young or Hannibal Bean, and taking over the world. By that time, Jack no longer cared about a breach of promise.
And when his mother died without saying goodbye, Jack decided to get rid of his childhood.
So it was thus that the criminal mastermind, the evil genius to spite all but the greats- Jack Spicer- was born to the world.
Freedom at last. Freedom with a price.

Jack spat out the gum into the waste-paper bin, sighed, and stood up; he was about to leave the room when there was a tap on his window. Looking out, at first he saw nothing- but then something caught his eye. A single piece of paper fluttering to the ground.

Unthinkingly and on a premonition, Jack opened the fourth-storey window and dived out, activating his hidden Helibot as he did so. He gave a tremendous swoop downwards and barely caught the paper, just before it fell into the street and was either found or destroyed. He stopped clumsily with a jerk, almost toppling out of the air, turned a somersault to right himself and started to unfold it.

                          ‘JACK SPICER
                                           THE WORLD IS IN DANGER’

He got no further before he heard the sound of laughter. And he knew those voices.
“Did you see the way he stopped?”
“Totally, like something out of a circus!”
The laughter doubled in pitch and volume.
“Omi! Pedrosa!” Jack cried out furiously. “How dare you-”

But they were gone, as quickly as they had come.

***

Jack slumped down at his desk, smoothing his vivid and distinctly ruffled hair.
“Fetch me a cup of coffee. And make it hot.”
His secretary appeared confused at his sudden abruptness, but left all the same, leaving Jack with the note and a whirl of thoughts.
For a moment he sat, staring into space- wondering whether this was the right course to take. It would certainly jeopardise everything he had worked for, worked to forget.

Finally, he fumbled the paper open and read it.

                          ‘JACK SPICER
THE WORLD IS IN DANGER. HANNIBAL HAS BEEN AWAY, BUT HE IS BACK, AND HE HAS AN ARMY WITH HIM. WE KNOW THIS IS THE TIME. MASTER FUNG SAYS WE NEED TO UNITE TO HAVE ANY CHANCE OF DEFEATING HIM, FOR SOME OBSCURE REASON THAT GOES WITH SOME ANCIENT PROVERB I CAN’T REMEMBER NOW. ASK OMI. BUT THE HEYLIN ECLIPSE IS COMING UP, AND YOU NEED TO GET CHASE TO HELP AND MAKE HIM WAIT TO FIGHT HANNIBAL…’

Jack didn’t need to read the rest. He crumpled the note in one fist, stunned. How the monks knew about the plan was questionable, but perhaps Wuya… just maybe… After all, she had been good once…
A chilling realisation struck him.
Hannibal’s plans stayed Hannibal’s plans. Anything the monks knew would surely be something the tiny, evil Southern bean wanted them to find out.

But whatever the reason, Chase had to know.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Description
Jack Spicer, evil criminal mastermind.

Nineteen years old and already a prominent name on the list of international criminals.
He cut a dashing figure, with his paper-white skin, red eyes and sunset hair; his neat suits, black and pristine, only accentuated his unusual features.
And he was currently bored out of his mind.

“Yeh, yeh. We’ve tried the whole thing before. A magical Cyclops? Been there, done that. Off you go.”
The crestfallen interviewee rose from his seat and left through the door. A second later, there was a gunshot.

Jack Spicer’s plans were far too precious for just any idiot to know about.

“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Tell them all to go wait somewhere.”
Jack was, of course, referring to the potential scheme planners who had come for interviews. The last one had died in suspicious circumstances.

Jack Spicer trusted no-one. And his old planner had gathered far too much information for comfort.

He flashed a dazzling smile at his secretary, who smiled sweetly and nodded.
It really was time to replace her too.

***

Jack Spicer was no longer a child.
He had left that world behind, with its good and evil, its Xiaolin monks and Heylin villains, its dragons and Shen-Gong-Wu.
Now, all that mattered was money and technology.

No longer was he the naïve, gangly goth he had once been. No more overlong trench coats, no more Jackbots. His suits had replaced his black clothing, and his new robots were far more sophisticated than the outdated floating designs of a thirteen-year-old mind.
All that was his childhood. And his childhood was gone.

Jack took a tentative sip of the near-cold coffee, then made a face, spat it out, and placed the cup carefully back on the table.
“Gross,” he muttered, before taking a strip of chewing gum and proceeding with that instead. Jack prided himself on his oral hygiene- yellow teeth were a thing of the past. Plus, it seemed to put people off if a known villain had a perfect smile. It was never expected.
That was something I learned from Chase.

There were some things Jack was not yet ready to give up, though. One was his hair, dyed orange-red in an attempt to hide his albinism. One was his yellow goggles, which even now sat atop his hairline. And the final and hardest thing to give up was the memory of his hero, the disputed greatest martial artist and one of the evillest villains of all time- Chase Young. After four years of detaching himself from the Heylin and the Xiaolin, from anything of his childhood that he could, Jack still idolised Chase to the point of insanity. In everything he ever did, he was always trying his best to emulate the man’s skill and grace, his unique and honourable style of evil.

But Jack was still Jack, and always would be- and that made it hard. This Jack was perhaps a Jack without clumsiness, without makeup, without his useless Jackbots- but Jack nonetheless, and Jack could not help being the ‘good’ villain- the one to whom true evil was unachievable. For all his success, Jack was not bad to his heart.

All the same, Jack was most definitely not a child. He was not who he had been once. There had always been a dangerous person, whether good, evil or neither, deep inside- someone worthy of attention. And despite the mockery of his youth, despite the taunts of everyone who had thought Jack would never be anyone, he was someone. He was strong. He had purpose. Most of all, he had dreams; attainable ones.

The original dream, the one of being an evil boy genius, stemmed from three minutes of his past; the three minutes in which his father had died, seven years after the birth of Jacob Spicer II. Jacob Spicer I had been a notable criminal genius; perhaps not on the level of the greats, but very much recognised. He had called his young son to him on his deathbed and said to him, haltingly and painfully,
“Whatever happens, don’t let the name of Spicer fall into the mud. It’s down to you to save it.”
To this, seven-year-old Jack had replied through tears, “I’d take over the world if you wanted me to, father.”
Jacob had smiled and closed his eyes for the last time.
And Jack had taken that to mean yes.

At sixteen years old, Jack Spicer had written down a list of all his dreams, gone through them, and eliminated the unachievable ones. These included gaining all the Shen-Gong-Wu, being as good as Chase Young or Hannibal Bean, and taking over the world. By that time, Jack no longer cared about a breach of promise.
And when his mother died without saying goodbye, Jack decided to get rid of his childhood.
So it was thus that the criminal mastermind, the evil genius to spite all but the greats- Jack Spicer- was born to the world.
Freedom at last. Freedom with a price.

Jack spat out the gum into the waste-paper bin, sighed, and stood up; he was about to leave the room when there was a tap on his window. Looking out, at first he saw nothing- but then something caught his eye. A single piece of paper fluttering to the ground.

Unthinkingly and on a premonition, Jack opened the fourth-storey window and dived out, activating his hidden Helibot as he did so. He gave a tremendous swoop downwards and barely caught the paper, just before it fell into the street and was either found or destroyed. He stopped clumsily with a jerk, almost toppling out of the air, turned a somersault to right himself and started to unfold it.

                          ‘JACK SPICER
                                           THE WORLD IS IN DANGER’

He got no further before he heard the sound of laughter. And he knew those voices.
“Did you see the way he stopped?”
“Totally, like something out of a circus!”
The laughter doubled in pitch and volume.
“Omi! Pedrosa!” Jack cried out furiously. “How dare you-”

But they were gone, as quickly as they had come.

***

Jack slumped down at his desk, smoothing his vivid and distinctly ruffled hair.
“Fetch me a cup of coffee. And make it hot.”
His secretary appeared confused at his sudden abruptness, but left all the same, leaving Jack with the note and a whirl of thoughts.
For a moment he sat, staring into space- wondering whether this was the right course to take. It would certainly jeopardise everything he had worked for, worked to forget.

Finally, he fumbled the paper open and read it.

                          ‘JACK SPICER
THE WORLD IS IN DANGER. HANNIBAL HAS BEEN AWAY, BUT HE IS BACK, AND HE HAS AN ARMY WITH HIM. WE KNOW THIS IS THE TIME. MASTER FUNG SAYS WE NEED TO UNITE TO HAVE ANY CHANCE OF DEFEATING HIM, FOR SOME OBSCURE REASON THAT GOES WITH SOME ANCIENT PROVERB I CAN’T REMEMBER NOW. ASK OMI. BUT THE HEYLIN ECLIPSE IS COMING UP, AND YOU NEED TO GET CHASE TO HELP AND MAKE HIM WAIT TO FIGHT HANNIBAL…’

Jack didn’t need to read the rest. He crumpled the note in one fist, stunned. How the monks knew about the plan was questionable, but perhaps Wuya… just maybe… After all, she had been good once…
A chilling realisation struck him.
Hannibal’s plans stayed Hannibal’s plans. Anything the monks knew would surely be something the tiny, evil Southern bean wanted them to find out.

But whatever the reason, Chase had to know.

TO BE CONTINUED…