Madness can take many forms, from a rabbit hole to an infinite spiral; everyone carries within them a touch of madness that helps them cope with reality—you know, that thing that resembles a titanium wall that no amount of headbutt can break down.
And then one day you had a really bad day.
Everything seems like a joke; no matter what you say or do, nothing goes your way, to the point that you feel like the entire universe just created you to suffer.
These are the thoughts of a body huddled near a fire, its pale skin shining in the light of the flames showing the bleeding wounds running down its back and legs, its modesty protected only by the remnants of its trousers reduced to a simple loincloth, thus transformed after years of use, its red, bloodshot eyes barely blinking, casting discreet glances around it like a wild animal expecting a predator to be there, lurking in the shadows and ready to strike the moment it lowered its guard, for even locked deep inside a cavern with only one corridor, it did not feel safe.
In fact, Jack Spicer hadn't felt safe for a very, very long time after getting involved in a battle between Xiaolin's losers and Chase Young's. The Shen Gong Wu of the day was... good heavens, if he remembered, it looked like a jade coin with the inscription ~Defeat~ engraved on it. Apparently, whoever throws it can inflict the worst possible defeat on their worst enemy. This can take various forms, like bad luck or even giving a weapon capable of cutting off their enemy's head. Yeah, a good SGW like they used to make, Jack thought, planning to seize it before Wuya took it for herself and thus ushered in the age of darkness.
He really doesn't know who she was thinking of using that thing, but one thing is for sure the red-haired witch really didn't like him because a portal opened at his feet and Jack, in his haste, fell into it before the astonished eyes of those present.
His fall was short, the rest was horribly long because no matter what this immense desert of grey rocky stone shining under the constant glow of the red moon was, the place was infested with demonic beasts it was quite like hell for the Spicer who found himself hunted like an animal from the moment he arrived here.
The days passed in intense anguish for the rich kid who found himself with a wound on his back on the second day, a little welcome gift from a bear with a mouth so wide it could eat a cow in one bite, shuddering at the memory of the claws scratching his flesh, Spicer distractedly stirs the embers, remembering what his life ended up looking like a few weeks after he found himself dying of hunger and thirst.
In this place there are lakes and forests but both are filled with monsters that look a lot like Tim Burton creatures, horrible from afar but friendly up close, well we have to forget the second part, so the evil genius got to work with the resources at his disposal, of course being a boy who grew up in the city and who cannot bear to stay too long away from his lab it was horribly difficult for him to adapt.
Fortunately, time helps to correct one's shortcomings.
On the other hand, apart from hunting and survival, there is nothing in this world to distract Jack from his memory, which became his only source of entertainment in this hell. Yes, a lot of free time in a dimension filled with monsters suddenly makes you want to introspect on yourself, except that in the case of good old Jack, all this time taking stock of himself was not good.
Not good at all.
From his childhood to today he doesn't have many good memories, the day he built his first functional robot, his grandmother giving him his helipack, and his first victory against Raimundo... in short, the rest is nothing but mockery, disdain, disappointment, humiliation.
Ah, one last detail, but not the least, but time here really doesn't flow the same way as on Earth; having solved university-level mathematical equations at the age of six, the red-haired genius started counting seconds to calculate the time spent here.
He started to panic after two weeks, sincerely believing that the portal would open and that the losers of Xiaolin would come to save him because it is their job to help people.
Three months later, Jack began biting his last nails while praying that anyone would get him out of here so he could go back home.
From the thirteenth month onwards, Jack finally began to accept the obvious: no one was going to come, kind or bad, no one was going to lift a finger for him because after all, why bother with him?
Accepting his fate made him not amorphous but rather emptied of any desire to think about the world that had abandoned him in this hell that he began to call Jack's Hell ; for days he simply hunted and killed every creature in his path, as much to feed on them as to let off some steam.
That's how he spent the last twelve years of his life, in his cave decorated with animal skins. The former genius inventor stared at the burning fire while continuing to think about his former life and everything he lost just because he was too young and stupid to see his own limits. His brain wasn't the problem after all; he was intelligent. Only his impatient and megalomaniacal character simply got him nowhere. Not that his entourage helped him much; between Wuya and Chase, it was impossible to have an ego bigger than that of a tennis ball. Let's not even talk about his family; it's better for him.
Jack's face lifted, revealing blood-red eyes. The impact of his gaze was reinforced by the furrowed brow, a permanent sign of constantly scanning his surroundings to avoid being caught off guard. His face had changed drastically; from a child with elastic cheeks and an arrogant smile, he now bore the face of a man who had gone through hell and survived. A beard reaching the middle of his throat masked most of his features, but Jack was quite convinced that his appearance made him resemble an albino caveman. The only positive thing to emerge from his ordeal was his muscle tone, which had greatly increased from fighting for his life in every battle. Having grown to be equal to Chase in terms of height, the former little redhead no longer truly existed.
Slowly his eyes find their way to the only weapon he has made here. Say what you will about Jack, but he is a master of trying until it works . Without any knowledge of survival, he began to see what doesn't work and what does. This involved many things, such as sewing and the art of forging tools. It was there that he got the idea to make a weapon to help him fight the demons, and what better than a katana?
What? He's a DMC fan! Sue him!
In short, learning this noble ancient art of blacksmithing was as catastrophic as one can imagine; he burned his fingers, his foot took more blows than any other part of his body, and he used tons of iron and steel through repeated failures, yet he continued again and again, not wanting to give up because giving up meant dying, and so far Jack has never managed to neglect his own existence, finding it much more precious than others.
That's how he made a katana that was fairly classic in its design, a blade with a red flame pattern along the blade and a red pommel with black flames just because he likes fire and thinks it's cool.
The blade was a true masterpiece, no creature could resist it, its edge never lost its shine and a small but not insignificant bonus the metals here must have magical properties because the sword always returns to him no matter where he is, not that he complains.
Turning his eyes away from his beloved weapon, he looks at his Wall of Dreams.
Eating a cheeseburger with bacon
Spending an entire day at the arcade
~Hug Grandma~
Prove string theory
Learning to play the guitar
Having too much free time gives you the leisure to dream about what you would do once you returned to Earth. This can range from the simplest desire to the dearest wish of your heart, but the final result remains a long list of messages carved in stone, which is the only proof that planet Earth ever existed outside of your head. Yes, well, that's more or less its way of keeping a semblance of its memory. Yes, with time, even the simplest things end up escaping you, like the names of your parents who are never there or your enemies who are a little too close to you.
Even the monks eventually became blurry images and distant voices for Jack, who struggles to remember his former life after living like an animal.
Sighing, the former genius inventor lay down on the fur serving as his bed, a dagger in each hand which he gripped tightly while allowing himself to close his eyes for a few minutes.
...
Slow down your breathing, make sure that no muscle moves, loosen your grip on your weapons by an inch or two.
"SKRIIIIIIIII!"
Quickly opening his eyes, the redhead rolled to the side to avoid the snake's bite—well, calling it that, while ignoring the elephant's body to which the rest of his body, from the trunk down, was attached. That would be nasty, that is, if the elephant in question were alive, because in its empty eye sockets fell tiny baby green snakes, which shared their mother's desire to devour and kill him, not necessarily in that order, but reptiles are quite vicious with their meals. Crossing his weapons before him, Spicer lunged at the enemy, who coiled himself up before darting at full speed towards his prey. The snake ducked and slid between the pachyderm's legs, slashing the backs of its knees in a flash. He straightened up and leaped forward, spinning in mid-air. Landing on his feet, he watched the body tremble on its limbs before crashing to the ground. The head of the horrible creature turned towards him, but with a long, practiced gesture... The dagger was thrown right into the mouth of the snake, which lost all its strength and fell to the ground to writhe under the dark gaze of the man who sheathed his dagger in a leather scabbard that fit him.
"...to say you're digestible," comments the redhead's deep voice as he watches the reptile's pupils fix on him. "Don't take it the wrong way...you know very well that here it's eat or be eaten."
If the snake could answer, there is no doubt it would insult him.
~SJ~
Today Jack Spicer celebrates his twenty-seventh birthday.
Well, he may not be on the exact date, but he's not likely to quibble about it, having had all the time in the world to build up a facade of a man of few words who acts after making the best decision; what irony to see him behave like a monk after mocking them for years.
...
Sometimes he would like to remember all their names, after all they are very close to the concept of friend/enemy, well, not that he can remember them having spent too much time surviving to continue to keep in mind the names of people he will never see again.
This thought saddens him as much as he now accepts it with a slight smile. It's unfortunate to see him reduced to accepting things and trying not to be angry. And besides, who could he be angry at for his situation? He wanted to conquer the world with magical artifacts, and this is the result. Apart from himself, he hardly holds a grudge against anyone anymore.
...memory lapses help a lot in that regard.
Sitting by the edge of a black lake, Jack continues sewing his new outfit after the old one failed him during a race against a kind of yellow alien running faster than a car. Normally, he doesn't care about being naked after realizing that sleeping like this is more comfortable, but also because of the lack of humans in the vicinity, which cuts him off from social concepts like modesty and also the need to talk, which he practices just to maintain his vocal cords, but well, when it's cold, it's better to cover up.
...of course he needed a black kimono with red trim because when you carry a katana you have to have the right outfit.
Whistling a song whose name he has forgotten, Jack Spicer continues to live his life in this hell reserved just for him...well, that was before he fell back into the same portal.
Yes, madness really does resemble a rabbit hole.
~SJ~
The time he lay there was infinite for his brain, which slowed down to capture every little thing he thought he had imagined, only to find them again with full force.
The sun, the sky, the clouds.
How many times did he dream of this world? How many times did he pray in his early years that some god, whoever it was, would hear him and save him? How many tears did he shed hoping to return home?
Jack Spicer naturally thought he was dreaming, despite the sensation of his fingers digging in the wet grass, the soft chirping of the birds, the breeze blowing through his long hair falling over his shoulders, daring just to enjoy all this he straightened up, immediately panting at the sight of the ruins which once was the temple inside which was the cursed room that had sent him to hell, seeing that the ceiling no longer existed the sharp mind of the survivor went into action.
He immediately felt the tears flowing, he did not stop them, no one dares to stop tears of joy, straightening up fully the man spread his arms wide and laughed heartily while bathing in the sunlight.
Jack Spicer is back!
~SJ~
His first destination was, of course, his home.
What he found...empty, no actually the house still existed except that he discovered that his family had died out during his absence making him the last living Spicer, it was then that Jack suddenly realized that he had been gone for twelve years, the weight of the years came back to him full in the face making him stagger on the spot, sitting on the steps of his family mansion the former evil genius felt lost and even anxious at the idea of returning to a world he had almost forgotten, yet his little crisis did not succeed in erasing years of determination to survive and that is how Jack came out of his depression and got to work to reclaim his house and the course of his life.
It's very difficult when you've been declared dead for all this time and very little connects you to the pathetic teenager you once were, so he underwent many genetic tests and checks with his lawyers and notaries to receive his inheritance and also regain full rights to his house.
Things ended a few weeks after his return to the real world, which he fears will disappear if he closes his eyes. In fact, the return to modern life was not easy for him and his caveman ways. The other day he just helped himself in a store, completely forgetting the concept of paying for things. Technology was, of course, the most wonderful reunion, and above all, finally having the pleasure of discovering all the films and series he had missed since his imprisonment. Oh, and all the cheeseburgers in the world trembled at the approach of the hungry Spicer.
In short, his return to normal life took him two very busy months.
Standing in front of the mirror, which reflects back to him the image of a rather tall man, broad-shouldered and muscular like an Olympic athlete, almost making him want to strike a pose like his former self would, his hair and beard give him a slightly older look but otherwise he appreciates the look, dressed in simple jeans and a black shirt the former villain sighs then leaves to do something he has put off.
Standing in front of his lab door, he took a deep breath before placing his thumb on the fingerprint reader. After a few seconds, the door opened, revealing a staircase descending into darkness. The young man began to descend each step, trying not to think too much about this place, which held many bad memories. Of course, most of them were linked to the sharp tongue of the witch Wuya, but also to the vision of a kid dreaming of world conquest and gaining the recognition of Chase Young, the coolest villain in the world.
Well, that was before his little stay in hell.
The room, filled with cobwebs and dust, was illuminated by the lights on the ceiling, lighting up the lair of the evil genius who now watches all this with great regret.
Friends, family, and love? I will be the absolute ruler of evil! Why would I need the rest?!
These are surely the thoughts of a child, but in the end he doesn't think he's changed too much in that respect. Jack Spicer remains the same madman, determined to succeed no matter what. The last twelve years prove it. Then he remembers why he hesitated to come back here, where his robotic genius was magnificently expressed. He remembers a little of his former joy, but he has trouble finding it since his return, and all because of that damned room.
It is one of the few things that remains etched in his psyche; the shape, the color, the texture, the letters, nothing was forgotten. He engraved every little detail of this piece of jade in his mind with the firm intention of destroying it so that he would never again fear being sent back to hell.
Rummaging through his old things he finally found his old Shen Gong Wu detector which of course did not work, grumbling under his breath Jack Spicer cleared his workbench and set to work making a device that would help him detect magical objects.
Oh yes, it became obvious to Jack after thinking about it during his stay in the infernal dimension, but on reflection... all the Shen Gong Wu must be destroyed.
Why? Firstly, because he feels he has suffered enough because of these things, secondly and above all because he is gradually remembering his former accomplice Wuya the witch who wants to plunge the world into darkness, the same for Chase Young the traitor of Xiaolin who wants to conquer the world with his army of immortal warriors transformed into beasts.
Jack Spicer will never be a hero or an evil genius; the twelve years of forced confinement gave him ample time to see the flaws in his old dreams and to admit their madness and their long-term uselessness; moreover, he looked at himself honestly and he did not find an evil genius, he saw a little boy dreaming of being praised and congratulated by his family who saw in him only a strange boy tinkering alone in his corner.
Choosing to destroy the SGW also stems from a persistent feeling that leaving these things in nature or in the hands of just anyone will always be an invitation to chaos, which is why, for his own peace of mind and above all to never see these stupid magical artifacts again, Jack will destroy them, one by one, until they are nothing more than dust!
Smiling and grunting with satisfaction, the survivor's eyes shine with joy as he imagines the end of this war brought about by his revenge.
(Soon...just a little more patience...and I'll destroy them all...!)