Omi's Eleven, Chapter Four

[lonewolfprincess]

Back at the Asian Art Museum, the cops led Katnappe and Ma Souris into a paddy wagon on a heap of charges, including attempted grand larceny- since nothing seemed to be missing when the lights and alarms were finally restored- destruction of public property, assault and battery, so many traffic violations, and illegal modifications to a vehicle. The kittens were also taken in, with steel-reinforced kennels, the hisses terrifying even the most hardened animal control officers.

The Xiaolin Dragons watched with pleased smirks, while a few bystanders from the gala lurked from a safer place at the top of the steps, eyes wide.

“Well, that takes care of that.” Raimundo said, dusting his hands off. “We ready to head back to the temple?”

“Yes please,” Mia groaned. “I’m dying to get this makeup off.”

Tori nodded. “And fix my hair.”

Mia and Kimiko nodded as well. It turned out any hair longer than the boys’ short cuts suffered from high-speed chases in roofless vehicles.

Clay, however, clutched his stomach. “Can we rustle up some grub first? I’m so hungry I could eat a whole cow in one sitting.”

He’d only had one or two tiny little hors d’oeurves, after all, and everything had hit the fan before the sit-down banquet.

Everyone agreed, teenage hunger winning out over looks, and Mia patted his shoulder.

“Two words, Tex: Mission burritos.”

His eyes lit up. It’d been a long, long while since he had good Mexican food. (And it was nice that she’d apparently let the misunderstanding about hugging Katnappe go. He’d have to clarify that over dinner.)

As the group began to walk away, Tori turned to Jack; he’d returned to the museum to find his mommy—er, mom, and stood with the rest of the looky-loos at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Pumpkin Spice! You still owe us ice cream too, wanna come with us?”

Jack blinked in surprise… and then crossed his arms, pretending he’d never seen them before in his life.

Tori pouted, and Mia patted her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Sis.” A mysterious smirk graced her features. “I have a feeling we might want to wait a while before we cash that in anyway.”

As if on cue, the MC of the auction trotted up to Jack.

“Pardon me, are you Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius?”

Jack blinked, and then grabbed his black suspenders with a smug grin.

“That’s my name! No autographs, please.”

“Excellent! I was looking for you; it turns out you won the bid for the Love and Serenity sculpture!”

If Jack could’ve blanched more, he would’ve.

“What?! I didn’t place any bids!”

“Wait, then… isn’t this your signature?”

Jack squinted at the bid sheet, reading the writing that was plain but… honestly a lot cleaner than his.

“‘Jack Spicer, Evil Boy Genius… (Love You, Mom)’?” And then he caught the amount bid, and his jaw dropped. “Twenty thousand dollars?!”

He heard a corn-syrup sweet gasp over his shoulder. “Oh, Jackie, that’s so sweet of you~! I’m so lucky to have such a considerate son~!”

Jack gulped. Well. Crud. There went his Bot budget for the next month.

“Y-yeah, that’s… totally what I had in mind! Tada?”

As Jack accepted his fate and cut a check, and the Xiaolin Warriors walked off in search of Mission burritos… a well-built man and a woman with a sandy red ponytail, both dressed in formal attire, pulled out their earpieces.

“This is Team Orthros to Typhon, come in, Typhon,” the man started, voice pitched low and calm.

“Proceed,” a deep, smooth voice responded.

“Sir, the anomaly at the Golden Gate Bridge has subsided, the two thieves are in custody, and the Dragon Coalition is leaving the museum with the inciting artifact,” the woman continued in a firm alto. “We have not been detected. Shall we continue pursuit?”

“Negative,” Typhon replied. “You’ve both done well for tonight. Interrogate the vault guards if you can, rest up, and return to headquarters as soon as possible.”

The woman gritted her teeth. “But sir, their guards are down, we could—”

“I said,” Typhon clipped out, “no.” He considered himself a strict but patient man, but he did not abide defiance. A deep, harsh breath through his nose. “Your current objective is observation only. There is still too much we don’t know about these subjects or these artifacts. If we tip our hand before we’re ready, Prometheus will not be pleased. And neither. Will. I.”

Both members of Team Orthros froze. Neither Typhon nor Prometheus were ones to make angry…

“Y-yes, sir…”

“Good.” Typhon allowed himself… not a smile, but a calmer expression. “You truly have done well. Enjoy the rest of the night; I’ll expect your full report tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the comms went silent, Typhon folded his hands together as he observed a wall full of screens, each holding shots of members of the Dragon Coalition employing magic through themselves or through magical tools. His gaze lingered on the petite Japanese lady who’d singlehanded orchestrated a museum heist, would’ve executed it flawlessly if it weren’t for those amateur thieves. And her pyrokinesis…

“Yes… I’m sure he’ll be very pleased with tonight’s data.”