The Jack(ed)al Part 1

Jackie Oaks may have been knocked out by a teenage spy, but after his rehabilitation leaves him wanting more, Anubis himself comes back with an offer for all the might and power he could ask for, just so long as he settles a score, first. Enjoy!

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"Alright…" the man behind the desk smiled briefly as he straightened some papers. "And how are we feeling today, Mr. Oaks?"

Jackie Oaks fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Peachy. Just peachy," he grumbled, then spotted the name on the man's desk. "Seth Beasley, is it?"

The two men were a study in contrast. Seth was tall, thin, and well-dressed, hiding a slight limp and a somewhat pale complexion. Jackie on the other hand barely came up to the other man's chest. He was fresh out of prison, and looked it— he used to keep a clean cut appearance, there was a near permanent stubble on his heavy jaw and a bit more of a rugged appearance— his once extravagant wardrobe of tailored suits had all been repossessed, alongside his Manhattan penthouse and almost every single expensive thing he owned, leaving him in slightly schlubby clothes, and he couldn't style his hair the way he used to either. All that aside, he was broad-shouldered, with a deep chest and brawny arms— working decades in wrestling had to pay off somewhere, after all. But he used to have so much more.

Seth grinned, clearing his throat as he looked over his desk. "Yeah. Feel free, I prefer Seth to Mr. Beasley, anyways. So—" he tapped his finger against the desk. "Mr. Oaks— or, do you prefer Jack?"

Jackie shrugged noncommittally. 

"Right— Well, as your court-appointed counselor, I've gathered some job opportunities for you to get you back out there. As part of your parole is that you can't work in entertainment, the health industry, the fitness industry, and, uh… most major businesses aren't willing to accept someone into a management position when they've been arrested for… ten counts of grand larceny."

The shorter man let out a rueful laugh. "Sounds like you found some real banger opportunities for me."

Seth offered a sympathetic smile. "Uh… how do you feel about working with cars?"

Jackie's mouth thinned. "That… sounds great," he said through gritted teeth.

"Look, Marty, can I call you Marty? What you want is a man's car, right? You want to go down the road, you want to feel like you're in a tank, you know what I mean? And I can tell you, this is a beast, this is a monster, you are going to feel like a big man when you—" Jackie smacked the hood of the refurbished minivan he was trying to push on this reedy salaryman, only for the metal hood to snap off and slide to the ground and clatter. "...Tinker with it in the garage, super easy assembly."

Jackie's smile slipped off the second Marty walked out the door without signing for the car. He grit his teeth as he saw some of the other salesman looking his way— they had already come up with three new nicknames for him— Stump, because of his last name and statue, was their favorite. 

"Working with a bunch of fucking geniuses…" Jackie muttered darkly to himself. He clocked out early for his lunch, stepping out of the showroom and towards his locker. He couldn't believe his luck— he used to be the king of professional wrestling, the founder and chairman of the Global Wrestling Association. He used to be a great salesman, he could take any average meathead that could throw a punch and transform them into a superstar— and because one preppy teenage girl caught on to his scheme about trying to get into the ring for himself and get a little bit of glory, now he was a dead-end car salesman.

He reached for his phone, seeing he had two new messages. The first was from Seth, and Jackie felt himself smiling slightly. The counselor was a bit of a schmuck, but he was a sweet guy, and he could count his friends on one hand these days. 

"Hey! Hope the new job is working out. Our next appointment is in a week, how about we make it a lunch meeting? My treat."

"Ah, sure, he's a good kid," Jackie muttered, texting Seth back. Then, he turned to the other message— he didn't recognize the number.

"We both have waited long enough. I will see you tonight, at five."

Jackie's mouth fell open. "...What the fuck?" The short man rolled his broad shoulders, glancing around the room; he was alone, far as he could tell. "Hey, any of you jokers think this is funny? I don't care how many short jokes you make, I will put you in the ground!" He barked, but no one stepped forward. He had been planning to attend an after-work dinner, but now, he was going to go home— the court seized almost all his property, but he still had a pistol squirrelled away in a hollowed out book; old habit, in case any of the talent he signed on got particularly ornery about their contracts.

"I've had enough of this— these jokers want to fuck around, they will find out," he muttered darkly. He ended up clocking out early that day, and then drove home. He sat in the living room of his dingy condo, and he watched the clock counting down to five, the pistol in his lap. He had no idea what these punks thought they were doing, but he was going to be ready for anything. He watched as the clock dwindled down to five… and then one minute past. Two minutes. Jackie began to slowly relax, until the doorbell rang.

"Dammit," he muttered darkly, leaping to his feet. He pressed his shoulder against the door. "Who is it?" he barked.

"Uh… delivery? I'm just dropping off a package for a Mr. Oaks."

Jackie frowned; he wasn't expecting anything. He looked into the peephole, having to stand on the tips of his toes to do so. He caught a glimpse of a man he didn't know, dressed in a delivery uniform. Starting to relax more, he set his pistol down, and opened the door. "Sorry there— I wasn't expecting anything."

"Just need you to sign here, sir," the delivery man said, casting a searching look at the short man. "You look a little familiar— were you on TV or something?"

Jackie smirked tightly. "You a fan of wrestling, kid?"

A look of shock washed over the young man. "Oh! Oh my God, you're that Jack Oaks! Wow…" He canted his head. "I kinda thought you'd be a little taller…"

Jackie's smile disappeared in a flash as he slammed the door shut in the young man's face, sighing heavily as he looked down at the package. His brow only furrowed deeper as he saw the return address. "Middleton Museum of Antiquities…?" He opened the package, and once he undid the wrapping, he gasped loudly, throw it down. "Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!" He swore, pulling out his phone. "Fuck!"

He began pacing frantically as he ran a hand over his hair. "Yeah, hi. This is Jackie Oaks, is Seath Beasley in? It's an emergency." Jackie bounced on his heels until the phone was picked up. 

"Hey, Jackie, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Seth, listen to me man, you trust me, right? Like— you've never caught me in a lie, right?" Jackie asked.

The counselor on the other line cleared his throat. "Of course. Look, whatever it is, you can tell me. It'll be alright, Jackie."

"Someone's trying to set me up, man. Someone's trying to get me back in the clink! I-I got this text message about waiting long enough, and just now, just now, I got sent a package from the fucking Museum of Antiquities with the Anubis talisman I stole!" Jackie shook his head. "I-I mean, the talisman I stole back then, I haven't stolen anything else, I swear."

"Okay— Okay, relax, Jackie, we'll get through this." Seth said soothingly. "Now, deep breaths. Look at the talisman, inspect it. Are you sure it's the genuine article?"

The short man's eyes boggled. "Seth, I already have my fingerprints all over the damn package, now you want me to touch it?" 

"Relax, I'm going to start recording this call with your permission— this will be evidence for your innocence. I'm speaking as a character witness, Mr. Oaks, upon receiving what he believes to be stolen property, immediately called me to report the theft. As his counselor, I believe this is consistent with Mr. Oaks' rehabilitation where he has proven to be a reformed and productive citizen. Now— Mr. Oaks, I want you to examine the talisman. Look at the bottom— is there an origin label?"

Jackie gingerly took the package, trying not to touch the talisman as little as possible. He turned the talisman over, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh— Okay. Okay. It says 'made in China.'"

Seth let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I thought it might be that. Okay, so, ever since your trial made TV news, the museum has started selling souvenirs that look like the talisman. Your theft made it famous." The counselor sighed. "Someone is pulling a prank on you, Jackie. That's all. A cruel one, mean-spirited, but just a prank."

Jackie sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. "Alright, alright. Agh— damn. I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack."

The counselor laughed again, in a comforting tone. "There you go— nothing to worry about. Now, I would look into who's doing this, but do not retaliate, okay?"

"Okay. Yeah."

"Now, you calm down, have a good night— but listen, let's move up our lunch date— uh, meeting— and I'm also going to text you my personal phone number, okay? Call me any time, day or night." Seth said.

Jackie nodded. "Yeah— Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Seth." He hung up, and sank into his chair. "Okay. Just some punk…"

Look again.

Jackie jolted back up, looking around wildly. He had heard that voice once before. The man reached for the talisman and turned it over— the 'made in China' label had completely disappeared. "Fuck."

Hello, Jackie.

The man screwed his eyes shut; that was the voice of Anubis. He had been chasing that spirit for years, but then one fight against a teenage girl, and it had landed him in jail. "Dammit! How— How'd you even get here? Is this that Possible brat trying to trap me?"

I have my ways. I am a piece of the God of the Dead, Guardian of the Underworld— if I want to get to someone, I will.

"What the Hell do you want with me? I was your…. champion? Avatar? For all of twenty minutes! We were a flop!"

I will judge the quality of my Chosen. I have come back to you Oaks because I need someone who knows wrestling.

Jackie frowned, looking back towards the talisman. "Wrestling? What are you talking about? I— I can't even get a job selling wrestling video games. I'm completely cut off from that industry."

Listen to me— there is at moment a rival of mine, operating in the shadows. He has started an underground fighting organization. He has evaded me for millennia, I will not let him escape again when he is so close. You desire the strength and power I can give you, I desire a vessel to enact my will. 

"A rival?" Jackie frowned. "You're a piece of jewelry, what rivals could you have?"

The God of the Desert and Chaos, Set, has also survived in artifacts of great power— he has chosen a champion, I need a champion, so you can destroy him.

Jackie frowned, stroking his chin. "And… What am I getting out of this?"

The power of the gods— you became a thief and sacrificed everything you had for it once. And now, I am offering it to you without the need to commit theft. Claim this talisman again, and become the vessel of my power. The fights begin in just an hour— if I am going to get to Set, we must begin this campaign NOW.

Jackie Oaks stared at the talisman— a dead-end car salesman job, court-appointed sessions with an admittedly cute counselor, and a crappy condo? Was that all he wanted from life? He bit his lower lip, then he stepped towards the talisman. He hesitated for a moment, drawing his hand back.

You were just cowering in your living room because you thought some delinquents were going to attack you. Wouldn't you like to know that you would never have to feel so powerless and exposed again? Let me give you the strength and security to feel confident in your life again.

"Ooh." Jackie smiled tightly. "I forgot you were nearly as good a promoter as I am. Alright— I'm in."

Yes!

Jackie grabbed the talisman and then felt a familiar rush coursing through his body, and in that moment, Jackie didn't realize how much he had missed that feeling. The sudden rush of power shot through him like a lightning bolt— his body erupted in size, sleek fur racing across every part of him as his face elongated into a jackal's face, eyes glowing with gold. In an instant, he was expanding by leaps and bounds, thick cords of muscle coating his body until his pointed ears were starting to press against the ceiling. 

Jackie's eyes went wide as he stared down with a powerful urge to use the vast reserves of strength that he hadn't felt since being hauled away. He revelled in his arms, roped with such mass that he felt like he could bench press the cars in his lot, biceps like basketballs rolling off his enormous wall of a chest, his triceps hefty slabs brimming with power. His back unfurled like a flag in the wind, abs stacked tight as bricks. He felt his legs billow out like the columns of a temple, forced apart by the sheer mass of muscular quads. 

Jackie let out a deep, bellyful laugh that made his pecs and abs rumble, his voice deep and reverberating off the walls. "Oh-ho, Hell yes! Hah! Oh, Anubis, I missed you."

I knew you would see it my way. Come. The fights are being held in the sewers.

Jackie made a face. "The sewers? What is this, TMNT? I can think of three different venues that would be better for a thing like this and wouldn't rise the risk of everyone catching malaria."

You can bring it up with Set after we're done driving his face into the ground.

Jackie followed Anubis' instructions to the nearest sewer entrance, and once he rued the fact that he would be ruining one of his last remaining good suits, he embraced the talisman's power again to return to the were-jackal form, letting out a low growl of pleasure as he felt the return of the massive amount of muscle and power return to him. He began stalking through the large cistern, and began to hear the sounds of commotion echoing off the walls. There were cheers, followed by howls, roars, and very inhuman sounding noises.

"...What the Hell? Is this some sort of dog fighting ring?" Jackie rumbled, but then suddenly, he doubled back, his head suddenly swimming as he felt a new galvanizing jolt race through him. He stared at his body in the dim light, arms shuddering, torso billowing and pulsing as his pecs pushed out, shoulders and back spread out with new hefty curves augmenting his already massive muscle, his biceps pressing out like over-inflated balloons as the gold arm bands girding his hefty brawn strained and warped over the new growth.

"What—? What is this?" Jackie grunted, looking over his doubly augmented frame, biceps rolling against his pecs as he grasped the beefy outgrowth of his chest, the heavy bulwarks of his back starting to press up against his arms. 

Insurance. We're going in against several hardened fighters that don't play by the rules of 'professional' wrestling.

"Wait, wait," Jackie scoffed. "Do you mean you could just do this at any time? You didn't think I could use this against Kim Possible?"

In my defense, I was fairly confident the power of the God of the Dead would be sufficient against a pair of teenagers.

"Yeah, great, thanks," Jackie grumbled, though he did absent-mindedly find himself tensing and flexing his limbs, his chest— anything he could see in his field of view, really. He took in a deep breath and then marched into the large, cavernous cistern. "Oh… Oh my God."

A large wrestling ring had been cobbled together in the center, large boards set over the pools of water and makeshift stands surrounding it. But as Jackie looked around, everyone he could see was half-animal. Crocodiles, bulls, falcons, cats, lions, monkeys— some of them seemed to be only wearing masks, but in the dim light it was impossible to tell. "Oh my God, this is just TMNT. Am I the only regular joe in this mass of mutated freaks?"

Look at you. If you wanted to be a "Regular Joe" you would have never put me on in the first place.

Jackie saw the crowd of half-animal mutants gather around the ring as a powerfully built male in a dog mask— who knew what he looked like under it. He was in the middle of holding a crocodilian in a chokehold, the reptilian fighter gasping for breath and wriggling in the larger wrestler's grasp. The masked wrestler hoisted him up, gripping him by the tail in one end, and heaved him to the ropes to put his opponent out of his misery, as the crowd erupted in cheers. 

There's your way in.

Jackie rolled his thick neck, shaking his huge arms loose. "No need to tell me twice." Wearing a toothy grin, he bounded for the stage, shoving smaller folks and fighters out of the way before his tightly muscled legs coiled like springs as he leapt into the ring, landing with a heavy boom that made the mat of the ring tremble. "You the punk called Set?"

The masked wrestler's eyes went wide as he slowly looked up and down Jackie's monumental body. "Oh— Uh— N-no, I'm—"

"Ah, can it, kid—" Jackie cracked his knuckles, bouncing one bicep then the other. "It's not gonna matter in a few minutes— sorry. Guess you're just my warm up." The musclebound hulk of a muscle charged for the other wrestler, slamming into him like a freight train. Mashed against his enormous pecs, the dog-masked man was practically drowning in Jackie's brawn as he wrapped his massive arms around him, his tensed boulder biceps squeezing into his sides until he let out a strangled gasp. 

"Hah! Had enough already?" the jackal growled, squeezing tighter and tighter until his opponent let out a strained cry. He eased up, but only because he wanted to roll the struggling wrestler in his grasp into one arm, gripping him by the wrestler trunks and then hoisting him in the air, the massive swells of muscle tensing as he held him aloft.

"Alright, you freaks! Listen up! This is my ring, now! This is my turf! And anyone who has a problem with that can get in the ring and tell me all about it!" Jackie roared, thumping his free hand against his bloated chest. "Now I got one question for all of you— where the fuck is this punk Set, and how long is he going to make me wait until I pound him into the ground?"

Jackie smiled broadly as the assorted half-animal mutants stared at him— he was the biggest in the room by a wide margin, and they all knew it. How easily he dispatched this first wrestler, the power he felt, the huge weight he moved with every step— it was good to be back.