Finding My Way: Part I

by Dana Night


Summary: In the past, Jubilee was more than just a Beverly Hills mall rat...

Disclaimer: Jubilee's not mine, neither is CynJen. Everyone else is, though!! *evil laughter* I'm not making any money, so don't sue. (please??)

This one goes out to all you folks in fandom. Yes, that means YOU, so I wanna HEAR from you. Got it? [email protected]


Footsteps rang against the pavement behind her, the sound of running feel pounding as quickly as her heart, and she picked up speed. Rounding a corner, she just barely avoided running into a group of girls she thought she recognized, then spotted an alley to the right, half a block ahead. Her feet began to ache as the wheels of her roller blades vibrated over the uneven pavement, but she pressed on, turning sharply into the alley, only to discover a chain-link fence blocking the straight path through. Were she on foot, she could have made short work of the barrier, especially with her gymnastics background, and vaulted to the other side. But as it was, there was no time to rip her blades off; she could hear the police nearing the alley, asking witnesses where she'd gone. Spotting a cluster of overfilled garbage receptacles, she ducked behind them, trying to even out her ragged breath, hearing almost nothing over the wild beating of her heart. Cautiously, she risked a glance over the top of the cans and saw them enter the alley. They, too, saw the fence and knew she was trapped. Slowly, they made their way toward her.

There were two of them, which meant, as usual, they had sent the greater number after her. Whenever she and CynJen split up, she always got the most cops. She supposed it was an ingrained, subconscious racism. Set two girls, one blonde, one Chinese, before a group of police and ask who's going to give more trouble, no one's going to point to the blonde. But that going to point to the blonde. But that going to point to the blonde. But that didn't matter now; what mattered was that she was stuck in a dead-end alley with incriminating evidence in her purse and two officers nearly on top of her. What would everyone say when they found out that she, the valedictorian, the captain of the gymnastics team, was the best damned petty thief in Beverly Hills? In an instant, panic beset her, encircling her floundering heart, pumping through her veins like molten lava, cutting off all logical thought and pooling in her hands until they burned like fire. Glancing down, she saw several multicolored sparks fly from her palms and, as the two cops drew dangerously nearer, a single lucid thought entered her muddled mind. 'This is my escape.' Closing her eyes, she held out her hands--one toward the pursuing police, one toward the offending fence--and ejected the heat from her hands in a bright explosion. Her hands hurt even more, as if she had just placed them atop a white-hot burner, but she hardly noticed as she opened her clear blue eyes to discover a hole--just the right size to duck through--in the fence.

* * * *

Jubilation snapped awake just eight minutes before her alarm was set to go off, the events of the day before haunting even her slumber. Her sheets were entangled around her strong, bare legs, her thin pink comforter in a pile on the floor. Sweat plastered her gray tank top to her chest, and perspiration dripped from her damp hair into her bright blue eyes as she sat up and let her sock-clad feet drop to the large fuchsia carpet that covered most of her polished hardwood floor. From the foot of the bed, Morgan meowed a sleepy hello, then yawned, upper lip curling up to reveal a set of sharp, pointed teeth. Rolling to his feet, he arched his gray and white striped back and pawed his way across the dank sheets to where his mistress sat, watching him, and began treading contentedly beside her. Picking the feline up, Jubilation cradled him in her arms, letting him lick her nose and muttering, "You don't care what I am, do you, Morgan?" The cat's only response was a quizzical look before he struggled from her grasp to return to his original position on the bed and curl up, one paw draped languidly across his nose, green eyes open but a slit, staring at her.

With a sigh, she stood, running slender fingers through her shoulder-length raven tresses and crossing to the window. An inversion was in full swing down in the metropolitan area of Los Angeles, and from her distance, she could see the dark pollutants hovering over the city like a choking, dirty fog. Where she was in Beverly Hills, however, the sky for the most part was clear and blue, though the sun blazed red as she viewed it through the LA smog. And part of her was amazed that the world continued on, oblivious, as though it had not been turned on its head.

* * * *

In the end, getting up at such a God-awful hour had been ludicrous. She had waited, sitting on her front step in stone-washed jean shorts, purple leggings and a pink top, elbows resting on her knees, her chin in her palms, for nearly forty minutes. And CynJen never came. They had been the best of friends just the day before. They had exchanged the sacred vow of blood sisters, "I will never leave you or forsake you." But all that meant nothing now, in light of the events of the day before.

In the end, Jubilation stood, angrily muttering, "Screw class," and made her way down to the mall.

In the end, she was, as she always had been, alone.

* * * *

Her shoes were off, feet curled on the booth beside her as Jubilation dug the pink plastic spoon into her rocky road ice cream, cutting through and mashing up the delectable dessert, but not eating.

She was the only one in the second-story Baskin Robins, save the young man with strawberry-blonde hair who had served her and now busied himself with ducking in and out of the back room, swishing a large, stained towel over the countertops. He paid her no mind, nor she him. At that moment, all she wanted was to be by herself and drown in self-pity. But Providence is often cruel, and the desires of the hearts of tortured often go unheard.

The sound was loud, the thump that a small body made when coming in contact with the ground at a relatively fast rate. Jubilation snapped to attention, looking out the open entryway to see a young boy, around the age of eight or nine, struggle to his feet, clutching his stomach, dark eyes burning in fury at the older boy who stood over him, a gloating smile on his lips.

Rage rose violently in the girl and, acting before she had a chance to think, she slid her feet into her yellow Keds and stormed over to the two boys. "'Scuse me," she snapped, drawing their attention. She glared at the older one, noting in her anger that he had an old-fashioned Chinese queue, a blue and orange Oriental dragon tattooed onto his shaved skull around its base. "Could I get yer name, dude?" she addressed him as the smaller boy ran off.

"Why?" His black eyes narrowed in suspicion as he regarded her, and his body tensed, ready for battle.

"I gotta order fer a knuckle samwich, an' I think it's yours." He lunged at her, but she easily ducked and sidestepped him. He spun to face her again, his anger rising a notch as his breathing quickened. She swung, aiming a furious fist at his stomach, and he accepted the punch without so much as an attempt at a dodge, nor a flinch when her hand made contact with his iron abdomen. She was caught off-guard, and he used the opportunity to grasp her wrists in a vice-like grip. The malicious grin returned as his dark eyes met her blue ones, and she gasped at the sudden turn of events. Panic rose in her throat and shot to her fingertips, and she knew instantly what she must do. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head and fired. Her wrists were abruptly released.

As she turned to run, abandoning the boy, who now writhed on the floor, shrieking, "My eyes! My eyes!," she was terrified to discover two large, heavily muscled men approaching her, both with blue and orange dragon tattoos to match the boy's; one around his immense bicep, the other snaking across his bare chest. Both had their dark hair pulled into queues; both looked to be of Chinese descent. Knowing they were trouble, Jubilation spun to find another big man and a woman, the younger boy trailing them, also nearing, effectively trapping her. The man had the same dragon encircling his right ear, wrapping around and behind his neck to curve in front of his left shoulder, and from above the woman's low neckline, the head of the dragon stared at the girl, its body vanishing around her left breast. The boy wore his tattoo like a crown around his completely shaved head, a detail Jubilation had missed before.

"Hey, I can explain, guys," she said anxiously, backing against the railing that looked out over the scant first-floor shoppers. "I's--uh--jus' sittin' there, mindin' my own business--"

The child interrupted her with a short command in what she could only guess to be Chinese, and the four remaining advanced.

Jubilation lifted hands to try and fire again, but nothing happened. With no other option before her, she turned and vaulted over the railing, figuring a broken arm was better than a slit throat.

The fall seemed to happen in slow motion. Above her, she could hear someone shouting in Chinese before a scream registered in her ears, and she realized it was her own. People turned from shops, the ground rushing up at her.. And then it was over. Something warm and dark engulfed her, and she welcomed it, slipping into supple black unconsciousness.

* * * *

She inhaled sharply and moaned as pain rang in her ears, centralizing somewhere around her left temple and nearly drowning out the Chinese utterances that seemed both very for and very near, unsure if they were addressed to her or not.

There was something wrong with her right arm; it felt hot and tight, but as her vivid blue eyes fluttered open to examine it, a white light seared into her brain and she moaned again, throwing her good arm across her face.

The scent of astringent was strong, and a woman's perfume lingered about in wispy curls, smelling of a flower that Jubilation imagined to be a deep purple. Concentrating on the more repugnant odor, she pushed the heavy ring of the pain aside and strained for snippets of conversation, but to no avail. Every word was in a language that her parents had had no desire to teach her, and she had had no desire to learn. Now, though, she wished she had insisted on lessons.

"Open your eyes, child," came a thickly accented feminine voice in her ear, and Jubilation tried to shake her head and immediately regretted it.

"Too bright," she whimpered, hoping she didn't sound as pathetic as she thought she did.

"It's all right. We've shut it off. Open your eyes. We won't hurt you."

The girl complied and was greeted by a smiling face, framed with long chocolatey hair. Somewhere to her right was a dim light source; a sheered window, maybe a desk lamp. The ceiling was high and vaulted, gilded crossbeams accentuating the gold highlights in the black-on-crimson dragons painted in perfect symmetry on the ceiling panels.

Off to the left, someone spoke, a deep male voice that had a commanding edge to it, though Jubilation could not understand the words. The smiling woman glanced over her shoulder and responded, then moved away, ducking her head in a bow when the man spoke again. The girl let her eyes fall shut once more as she wondered just what these people wanted from her.

"Open your eyes, mutant," the man ordered, and her eyes flew open in fear to behold whom she guessed was the leader of this group. The same dragon--its head and body the color of robin's eggs, a fiery orange covering the throat and belly, and lining the wide, grinning mouth like a rabid foam--wrapped around his right eye, the long, slithering body curving down his cheek to end in a serpantile coil around his neck. Fierce black eyes stared into hers, then he grabbed her chin in one hand, rolling her head back and forth, making her ears ring once more. "Blue eyes?" he inquired, releasing her. "Where did you get them mutant? I was told your parents are both Chinese."

She didn't respond but bit her lip against the pain until blood spilled warm and coppery into her mouth.

"So, you don't speak Chinese?"

"No," she whispered, swallowing the blood.

"Such a shame. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Meng Entian. I am the leader of the Blue Dragons. And you are our newest member, mutant."

"Me?"

"Yes. What is your name?"

"Why me?"

"Your powers shall prove useful. We've been watching you for quite some time, mutant. Even before we learned of your powers. You and the blonde girl caught our attention." He smiled, and a small diamond in a gold-capped tooth glittered in the dim light. "Now, what is your name, mutant?"

"Jubilation Lee," she murmured. "Are you, like, some sort of Chinese Mafia or somethin'?"

"Jubilation is not a Chinese name," he spat. "Your parents have done you an injustice. While you are with us, you shall be known as Li Zhenbai."

"What's it mean?"

He grinned. "True and bright. I hear you're quite the sparkler. Welcome to the Blue Dragons." Turning, he left the room, shouting, "Jinglie!" Immediately, the smiling woman returned, casting a wary glance over her shoulder as Entian made his retreat.

"Did he frighten you?" she addressed Jubilation.

He had, but there was no way the girl would admit it, and a small utterance of, "No," passed her wounded lips. Jinglie gave her a doubtful look, but did not press the matter as she checked the child's arm.

"You gave yourself a concussion and a bit of bruising, jumping from that height, but thankfully, nothing more. Would you like to sit up.. What should I call you?"

She opened her mouth and hesitated, then replied, "Li Zhenbai. An', yeah, I *would* like ta sit up." She knew she would regret it, but Jinglie was careful as she assisted her, helping her slide up against the wall and placing a small pillow behind her head. Jubilation discovered she was on a hard, makeshift cot in what appeared to be a small library in a mansion. "What is this place?" she asked, awestruck by beautiful Chinese tapestries lining the walls that did not have bookshelves, and the rich red Oriental rug that stretched from wall to wall.

"This is the home of the Blue Dragons, of which Entian has now made you a member, young Zhenbai."

"What's happened ta my arm?" For the first time, she noticed white gauze taped from her shoulder, down the length of her right arm, and over the back of her hand. She cringed as she flexed it and little sparks of pain sent purple flashes before her vision.

Jinglie gave her a puzzled expression. "You were initiated, of course."

"What's *that* mean?" As she spoke, she spotted the blue and orange dragon's tail wrapping around Jinglie's left upper thigh, the rest disappearing into her Daisy Dukes, and she knew exactly what 'initiation' meant. "Lemme see it," she breathed.

"But there is still much healing--"

"Lemme see it," she repeated, louder this time, her voice firm, her blue eyes locking coolly with the woman's brown ones.

Obediently, as if used to being pushed around, Jinglie carefully removed the tape, then rolled back the gauze to reveal a vivid dragon snaking up the length of her arm, its head caressing the back of her hand, mouth open, as if at any moment, it was going to spew fire from her fingertips. And perhaps that was the point. The thought brought her back to the last time she had used her powers.

"Is the boy awright?" Jubilation asked suddenly.

"Boy?"

"The boy," she said impatiently. "Y'know, the guy from the mall that I.." She could not think of a word, could only see the bright sparks, smell the acrid scent, hear the loud-- "The guy I paffed. Tattoo 'round his queue. Is he awright?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" came a voice from the doorway, and both she and Jinglie looked up to find the boy standing in the doorway, head held high, black eyes fixed upon the girl. With a curt nod to Jinglie, he said something in Chinese, and she bowed and left the room. Approaching the cot, he looked appraisingly at the long, bright dragon, then met her eyes. "Tell me your name, mutant," he said tersely.

"Li Zhenbai," she responded, now almost automatically.

His eyes narrowed. "Is that your real name, or one my father gave you?"

She looked away, finding his gaze penetrating and difficult to hold. Swallowing, she mumbled, "Jubilation Lee."

"Jubilee?"

She hesitated, about to correct him, but instead nodded.

"My name is Meng Xiongtian. Know and revere it, mutant. You have been made part of the Blue Dragons, but that does not give you respect. Your fighting skills do, and they are lacking. As are your fleeing ones. My father was foolish to let you in."

"Yer pop's seen me on blades with CynJen," she countered angrily. Where did this guy get off? She, in the end, had defeated him, had she not? "Dude, how's yer eyes?"

Surprise crossed his handsome features, and he tried to turn away before she saw, but in vain. "My welfare, mutant, is of no concern of yours," he fairly spat.

"Dude, chill. I's jus', like, askin'. I jus' got my power, an' I don't 'zactly know what I'm doin'. It ain't like I asked fer it. My 'rents don't even know." She paused, trying to imagine her parents' reaction when they found out, and quickly resolved that they would never know. One thing that would be more difficult to hide, however, was the huge tattoo running up and down her arm. "Man, my 'rents 're gonna kill me when they see this thing."

"The Blue Dragons are now your parents, Zhenbai."

A stricken look crossed her face at his words and something in his eyes softened, and he swallowed.

"However, as son of Entian, I believe it would be possible for me to arrange for you to return."

Ignoring the pain in her head, Jubilation leapt up and wrapped her arms around his chest in a huge embrace. "Thanks, dude," she said softly.

"However," he continued, prying her from him, a red flush painting his dark cheeks, "if you do not come to the designated meeting area tomorrow, before the sun is high, you and your family will be eliminated."

"Scouts honor." She held up two fingers, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Very well. I will also arrange for some clothing to hide that," he gestured at her arm, "from your parents. Jinglie will take you to the limo, where the garments will be waiting." With that, he turned and left her alone in the room.

* * * *

Said garments turned out to be a bright yellow raincoat and a pair of blue gloves. Both were slightly big for her, and on the tag of the jacket were three Chinese characters which, although she had no way to read them, she was convinced they read, 'Meng Xiongtian.'

As the limo pulled out, Jubilation glanced up through the tinted windows to find the boy standing on the balcony of the massive house, watching her retreat.