Half-Breed

Chapter 1: Running Alone

By Emilou AKA Hatashi Kitty

Professor Shepherd sat at his console with a stern look on his face. He had been facing a quandary ever since the Road Rovers had returned from their last mission a few weeks ago. It wasn't the mission itself or the fact that they had been captured by Parvo. It was their leader that was the focus of his puzzlement.

Rather than just stew in his own thoughts, Shepherd unrolled the wire from his microphone and prepared his recording equipment. He kept spare, empty cassettes on hand for dictating inventive ideas or anything else scientific that came to his mind.

But recently, most of these recordings were about his creations, the Road Rovers. The progress and development of their powers were amazing. It took a few years, but they were united under one idea to stop Parvo. But what else were they developing?

Shepherd organized his thoughts, and then turned on the recorder.

"August 20, 1999. Once again, I will not disclose the location of my head quarters or the identity of subjects A thru E in case these recordings fall into enemy hands.

"All subjects are healthy, and, once again, have thwarted another of my enemy's plans; this one was to destroy my creations, thereby paving a way to world domination. Lucky for us all, subject E wasn't captured and was able to arrive in time to save his fellow cano-sapiens.

"I have noticed little differences in most of their habits. There have been a few scuffles in the pecking order (as I suspect there would be), but there have been no change in the chain of command. Subject D seems to have calmed down a bit, and his relationships with Subject B and Subject A has improved, although I cannot guess to say they are friends.

"Subject C still hasn't shown any change to his mutation. I had hoped that he would at least become more vocal in English, but it seems that his DNA had partially rejected my machine. He will probably be that way for the rest of his life, unless I'm willing to increase the power to my transdogmafier. But I'm afraid that it could damage his DNA beyond repair.

"No other cano-sapiens seem to have rejected the change. Our number has increased to 83, all stationed throughout the world to keep watch for anything that would endanger the world. Their diligence and loyalty to humanity may be our only salvation."

Shepherd lowered the mike a bit as he swallowed and worked his tongue to help his dry mouth. Once again, he had to gather the words he would say for the recording. He was nervous about what he was going to say, but reassured himself that it was unlikely that anyone would hear his notes

"For the first time since creating the team of Road Rovers, I have had thoughts that what I have done is wrong. I changed innocent creatures into something they weren't meant to be. I played God not once, but several times in my war against General Parvo. I justified my actions in the hope that the end would mean Parvo would be brought to justice. But was I right to do so?

"Recently Subject E has been acting very strangely. He's been demonstrating characteristics that aren't exactly canine. The incident being that he abandoned his mission to look for his biological mother. The fact that he deviated from the mission is enough to cause worry, but looking for one of his parents is definitely not a canine trait.

"To add to this, Subject B confided in me that she had persuaded Subject E to continue his search during the mission. I am convinced that she had done so not because Subject E is the leader, but out of feelings for him.

"The more I see the subjects interact with each other, the more I am convinced that the constant use of the transdogmafier is making their minds more and more human. I am unsure how many of the subjects are affected similarly as B and E. I will need to observe them further in their lives.

"I believe the cause of this is because all the subjects have been in their changed form for far too long, and their DNA is evolving them into a whole new species. The more often they are in their morphed form, the more they evolve. I have developed a fear that they will question their origins, and become unhappy with their situation. I also believe that eventually their DNA will evolve to a point where they no longer can turn back to their true canine forms and will resent me for that. I shudder to think the damage I have done to them when they will no longer be allowed to return to their peaceful and innocent lives. I hope they can all forgive me for this evil I have done to them. Being human isn't easy, which they might find out sooner or later.

"My only hope is that my enemies will soon be apprehended, and the subjects can return to a normal life of peace. I am currently working on a way to keep the subjects' DNA from evolving any further and locking them into an unnatural life."

Shepherd switched his recording device off and smoothed his forehead with his palm. He could feel new lines on his face, which were an after-effect of so much stress in his life. Most of his worries were centered on Parvo and his horrible mission of taking over the world. But with this new bit of information about his Road Rovers, he was seriously considering if his actions were ethical. Was it right of him to take all those dogs and change them? What's even more, was it ethical to make it so they couldn't stay transformed? What did the Road Rovers want? Did they want to remain dogs, stay by the sides of their masters and never think further than their own food bowl? Or was it cruel of him to give them a taste of this new world of human speech and super powers only to take it away from them again?

With a heavy sigh, Shepherd turned to the blue prints he was working on. One was an upgraded form of his transdogmafier, but there were so many red marks that the shape of the machine was distorted. Next to it was a smaller blueprint, showing a much, much smaller transdogmafier. But the latter blueprint was pushed aside in favor of the more complex plan.

A faint buzzing woke up the sleepy dog from his snore-wracked dreams. His ears flopped around as if a flea was irritating him. After a while, he lifted his head up and took a look at his territory. The sprinkler system had just started its cycle to water the grass. The wind was blowing gently through the trees. The sky had a few clouds covering up the stars, but there was no scent of rain. And the secret service was covertly moving through the foliage and whispering codes in their radios.

Yep, everything seemed normal.

Hunter scratched at his collar until he felt better, turned around once and laid back down to sleep again.

"Hunter."

The faint buzzing was back, but this time it was whispering his name. He leaped up, alert, and looked around for whoever it was.

"Hunter, wake up."

Hunter finally recognized the voice. The Master was calling him through his collar transmitter. Hunter panted and wagged his tail happily. It almost sounded like The Master was right next to him, and his doggy senses kicked in. It had been like this since The Master had stopped using the omnipresent howl. He had to update his technology since the FBI had the technology to listen in. The best solution was the one-way transmitter in his red collar.

"Hunter, if you can hear me, return to HQ right away. There is a situation."

The golden retriever didn't even hesitate or wonder what the President would think if he found his dog missing. His loyalty was to The Master, and he heeded his call before others. Hunter backed up into his dog house, and slipped down into the trap door that held the high speed vehicle that would transport him to The Master.

In less than an hour, Hunter was in Road Rover HQ and completely trans-mutated into "Super Hero Mode". He stretched a bit, adjusting quickly to having clothes and thumbs again. He could never get over how cool it was to be in this form. Even thinking was different, as if there was more space to move subjects around. It was also easier to focus on the subject at hand and not get distracted by moving objects.

"Here, Master. Reporting for duty," Hunter said with a salute once he had seen that The Master was waiting for him at the entrance.
"Thank you for answering the call. I have a very important mission for you, Hunter," The Master said with lips pursed in a thin line; it was a bad sign.

Hunter perked his ears up, but he couldn't hear any of his fellow Road Rovers nearby. "Where are the others, Master?"

The Master turned around, his hands behind his back. "I'm afraid you'll have to go on this one solo. The European leaders are all gathered in Milan for a charity dog fashion show. There isn't a way to get them to HQ without their identities being found out."

Hunter's ears sagged. He wasn't one who liked being alone. But a dog had to do what a dog had to do. "What is the mission, Master?"

The Master handed the cano-mutant a thin folder.

Hunter opened it up, and the top paper was a glossy photo of a man in a lab coat and glasses. He looked to be of Indian decent. In the photo, he was petting a medium-sized, gray dog.

"His name is Farid Saraaf, and our eyes in the sky believe he will be targeted by Parvo," The Master said in a monotone voice.

"Why is that?"

"Dr. Saraaf was a colleague of mine when we were in grad school. We both had theories bordering canine DNA manipulation. As I recall, he's brilliant but some of his ideas were a little far-fetched. He wanted to collaborate with me on my transdogmafier, but I declined on my judgment. He is single-minded in his work, and sometimes doesn't question the ethics of a project."

Hunter tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.

Shepherd knew this gesture well enough. Perhaps he had been a little vague. "Dr. Saraaf values knowledge most of all, and at times, his judgment is a bit off. This will make him an easy target for Parvo to manipulate with lies. Dr. Saraaf might not realize that what Parvo wants him to do will be wrong. You must get to him first."

"Of course, Master," Hunter said with a quick salute. "Where does he live? I'll bag him quicker than you can say Pekinese."

Shepherd shook his head. "No, I don't want him to see you unless there is no choice. It's better that you intercept Parvo in the act. But it would be best if he didn't know the Road Rovers ever existed."

Hunter's ears sagged at that, wondering what The Master meant by that. "So, where am I going?"

"According to the Academy of Science in Sacramento, he's holding a symposium for the public," The Master said.

"Awwwww, a symposium," Hunter whined. He couldn't even pass obedience school, and now he had to sit through a long and stuffy speaker. He's be lucky if he could stay awake to keep an eye out for the General.

"You'll have to be in disguise," Shepherd added, and reached into his lab coat. He pulled out a few American dollars. "I apologize that our resources don't include garments that will allow you to fit in, so you'll have to stop somewhere and purchase the correct clothing."

"Sweet!" Hunter said with his tongue lolling out and his tail wagging. Hunter had always wanted to wear human clothes. Always on missions, the Road Rovers were usually garbed in their uniform, or at the very least, combat attire. He needed a little variety. "I'll just stop by the mall and pick something up."

"Hunter, remember, be as discreet as possible," The Master instructed.

"Discreet. Of course. Can I bring Muzzle along?" Hunter said, distracted by the money Shepherd had given him.

The Master gave him a smoldering stare. "Discreet, Hunter. Discreet."

"Oh yeah," Hunter said sheepishly. "I guess I'll be going then."

"One more thing. I've created an upgraded version of the communication device," the Master added, pulling out a new collar. "This one is a two-way transmitter with a wireless ear piece. It's voice activated. There is also a camera in the dog tag so that I can see everything you do. Call me once you arrive in Sacramento. If you run into any trouble, I'll try to send reinforcements as soon as I can."

It made the Road Rover leader uneasy to go on a mission alone, especially when it came to Parvo. "What about the other teams? Couldn't they back me up?" Hunter asked. He had rarely met the others and would have loved a chance to work with any of them.

The Master just shook his head slowly. "Unfortunately, they're all in China. A tropical storm hit, and I sent all the reserves to help with the damage," he explained to his Road Rover. "When I can, I'll send the rest of your team in the Sonic Rover."

Hunter saluted before heading to the Sky Rover. He tried to act confident about his ability to do this mission, but inside he felt depressed and lonely. He wanted his team to go on this mission with him. He wasn't a lone wolf, but rather run with the pack.

"Stop it, Hunter," he berated himself. "Master is trusting you to do this. Your team is counting on you." He quickly jumped into the Sky Rover, and put in his destination to Sacramento, California before taking off.

It was going to be a quiet trip.

About the time that Hunter was flying across the country, the east coast was waking up with the sun. One particular resident in New Jersey had her shades drawn as tight as they could be, hoping that the bright rays wouldn't find her eyelids. But that didn't matter. It wasn't the sun that woke her up every day, and it wasn't her alarm clock.

Sun up! Sun up! Walk! Walk!

The high voice wheedled its way into her mind, bringing her out of her sweet, sweet dreams. Time and time again, the voice never failed to get up with the sun and force her awake.

Mira Ortega grabbed her pillow and pinned it to her head. Noise normally wouldn't be a problem since the fact was that she has been legally deaf since she was sixteen, and both her hearing aids laid on top of a worn out nightstand. The reason for her disturbed sleep came from a voice that nobody else was able to hear. Her reaction to cover her ears was reflex, but she knew deep down that nothing would have been able to mute the voice.

Oh boy, you're up! Yay, up! Outside! Outside!

Mira gave a heavy sigh as she felt the vibrations of her neighbor's front door slamming shut and the voice fading away. The muscles in her body loosened up, and she slipped into a foggy sleep. But it was all for not, since her alarm went off which made her bed vibrate. Her body felt shocked as all her senses were suddenly turned on, and her blood pumped faster as if she had an IV of caffeine.

Her body told her that this wasn't their usual routine and protested by being sluggish. But Mira remembered why her alarm was set for an earlier time. She had asked work off weeks ago and suddenly felt jittery with excitement.

Today was the call back audition.

With a bounce in her step, she quickly pressed the button on the coffee machine and then danced to the bathroom. From there, she slipped her hearing aids into her ears and turned on her cassette player. Immediately, ABBA's Dancing Queen started playing. While listening to other songs from the 70s and 80s, she showered and dressed in her ballet attire. She had used her spending money from her last month's paycheck to buy a new leotard, tights and other accessories. They weren't too fancy, but at least they looked nice.

After a quick breakfast, she dried and tied up her hair, then carefully gathered her make-up and put them in her bag. The make-up was brand new, not even opened. She had also spent her extra money on nicer cosmetics, not the cheap Wal-mart crap she usually wore. After a quick look at the clock, she frantically gathered her purse, keys and a cassette she kept on her counter. Looking frantically around her apartment as if she were forgetting something, Mira closed her door and locked it. Exactly twenty-seven seconds later, she had unlocked the door just to snatch up a pair of dirty pink, worn toe-shoes that were draped across her couch. Clutching them to her chest, she locked her door once more and made her way to her '89 Geo.

Before she could touch her car, a voice called to her.

"Good morning."

Mira looked up to see who spoke and came eye to eye with soppy brown ones and a foot-long tongue.

Oh boy! Friend!

"Good morning, Titus," Mira said and patted the head that was level with her chest.

"Sorry about that," her neighbor said (Mira had never bothered to learn his name). "I can never control him once he sees you."

The Great Dane almost sighed as Mira scratched his ears and told him mentally that he was a silly boy.

"That's alright. He's a whole lot better than the chihuahua that lives next door," Mira told him just to make him feel better.

"Well, have a good day. Let's go, Titus," the man said and pulled hard on the leash.

From there, Mira quickly threw her stuff into the passenger side of her car, and started it up. Once she was on the road, her nerves started to calm from the comforting purring of the car's motor and her upbeat cassette that she saved just for times like this.

It was going to be a long trip to New York City.

Hunter had put the Sky Rover on auto-pilot as he crossed over the United States. It wasn't fun flying a plane when all you had to view was blue sky for hours. Without witty banter and squabbling team mates, it was torture just to sit back and watch the view. Hunter wandered through the cabin, trying to find something to occupy his mind. However, his poking around in all the corners came up with only some dust bunnies and a travel version of Monopoly.

"I miss my team," he said out loud and stared at the empty seats of the plane.

It was only after sitting in his own melancholy for an hour that his stomach protested loudly. Patting his belly, Hunter realized he hadn't eaten breakfast. At this time, President Clinton would have walked out to his dog house accompanied by secretaries and body guards to bring him his bowl full of kibble. For a while, Hunter wondered what his owner would think when he found the dog house empty, but he remembered the new Road Rover's policy that The Master put into action. A substitute would have been sent in so the President wouldn't become suspicious.

Hunter glowered at the floor of the Sky Rover, envying his substitute every bite of dry dog food. But then he remembered that he had cash that The Master had given him. He could go buy his own food!

With his spirits uplifted at this, he rushed to the pilot seat to use the GPS to find a small town he could land in. It wasn't that hard; he was in the bread basket section of the US, which was riddled with tiny towns. He touched down somewhere in Nebraska, finding a wooded area to hide the plane before racing into town.

Quicker than lightning, Hunter ran into a used clothing store and raced back out in seconds.

To the few customers in the store, it was like a giant gust of wind had blown open the door and swirled around. A few cried out about tornadoes, and others ducked behind display stands. Once the wind died down, everyone forgot it. However, the sales clerks found a small pile of dollar bills on the cashier counter once everything was calm. Nobody claimed it. Nobody even missed a faded Nebraska hoodie, a pair of jeans, sunglasses, some socks and a pair of shoes since nobody took inventory at the second-hand store. However, they did notice that one of their mops were gone.

"Welcome to McDonalds. Can I take your order?" a young woman asked in a droll voice that suggested she wasn't a morning person. Or a people person. To her credit, she didn't bat an eye at the big-nosed man who stood before her. She'd seen enough people come in with sunglasses and their hoods pulled up to either look "cool" or to discourage any form of small talk. It was how the man had attached the business end of a mop to his face that made her think he was running from the police or was seriously disturbed.

"Yes, I'd like three egg McMuffins, two hash browns, a cinnamon roll, and a large cup of coffee, please," the strange man said in a louder and brighter voice than should have come from someone incognito.

The cashier raised a single pierced eye-brow, but only tallied the total and spoke the price of the order.

The disguised man smiled broadly and handed her his money with both hands. "You can keep the change," he said.

It didn't take long for his order to come up, and by that time, the man was drooling all over the counter and whining in an excited way. He politely thanked the cashier and everyone who worked there (including the Ronald McDonald statue), and bounced out of the restaurant.

"That guy was soooo creepy," a different cashier told the other, her arms folded as if she were cold. "I think he was some sort of pervert. Something kept moving in his pants. Should we call the police? I bet he's wanted somewhere with that getup."

The other cashier just shrugged. "Yeah, most likely. But I ain't turnin' him in."

"Why not?"

"He gave me a twenty dollar tip."

"Hunter, have you. . . . What are you wearing?"

Hunter turned to the communication screen when he heard The Master's voice. He smiled broadly. "Do you like it? It's my disguise. Discreet."

The Master looked doubtful. "You look like the Unabomber."

"Cool," Hunter said with a big grin. "What's up, Master?"

"I was just checking on your progress. The symposium is about to begin," The Master said in a worried tone.

"I just crossed the Californian border. I'll get there with time to spare."

"Good. Hunter, I have to reiterate that you must do this without being seen. I just found out that the media is going to be there."

"Will I get to be on TV?" Hunter asked, his tongue hanging out.

The Master frowned. "Don't be seen."

When Hunter stepped onto the campus of the Academy of Science, he thought, Master wasn't kidding about this thing. There must be a million people here.

Hunter wasn't close (more like a couple of thousand) but to his nose, it seemed like a million. The campus was thick with new smells. He had to fight the Golden Retriever part of him that wanted to go explore.

Many people were out and about the large grassy area in the middle of the campus. Many were students rushing to study for tests or write papers. A large group of people were congregating around the largest building on campus. Above a few of the windows were large banners that said, "Welcome Dr. Saraaf," and featured a beaker with a smiley face. There were also TV crews everywhere, with reporters standing by their vans talking and smiling into cameras. Every now and then, a few muscle men in black t-shirts could be spotted, obviously security. These men were conducting pedestrian traffic and checking press cards.

Hunter quickly lost himself in the crowd and the cacophony of smells invading his nostrils. He was distracted by so many new things to see, smell and hear that he forgot about his mission awhile. But his nose reminded him when a familiar scent wafted by that caused his hackles to rise. He quickly tried to turn in all directions, nostrils flaring to track the scent. But there were just too many people for him to find it again. Hunter lowered his sunglasses as he tried to find his enemy's face in the crowd, but that, too, failed. He would have had more of a chance of finding Waldo.

Thinking he'd have better luck inside the symposium, Hunter headed inside the building. From there, he was ushered into a large auditorium by the muscle men. Inside, he tried to grab a seat near the front to keep an eye on the doctor, but that proved to be impossible. The front seats were reserved for students, other scientists and the media. He tried to discreetly lean against a pillar, hoping to watch the symposium from a standing position and, therefore, ready for action. But one of the muscle men angrily told him to find a seat. Finally, he was forced to sit further in the back to his disgruntlement.

To make things worse, everyone seemed to be eying him with suspicion. What was wrong with them? He was dressed like a human.

After a few minutes of sitting, the lights darkened while the stage lit up. A dark-skinned man walked on stage to the applause of the audience. Hunter immediately recognized him as the man in the photo.

"Master," Hunter whispered into his collar and immediately could tell from his ear piece that the two way communication device was working. Hopefully the camera was as well, and that the Master could see everything.

For the next thirty minutes, Hunter sagged in his seat as Dr. Saraaf droned on about his life, his theories and his experiment. He used very technical jargon and quoted many men that Hunter didn't know. In his ear piece, he could hear a whispered commentary from the Master throughout the spill. Hunter entertained himself by glancing at the audience for General Parvo's face. He wished that he had brought night vision goggles to help him.

The scientist's voice was very rhythmical, and it started rocking Hunter into a sleep that his earlier coffee high couldn't fight off. If it wasn't for something Dr. Saraaf said that caught Hunter's attention, he would have been deep in dreamland.

"It wasn't until I was a graduate from the Academy of Science that I started to really become passionate about gene splicing. A colleague and room mate of mine was working on a thesis similar to mine. William F. Shepherd and I had often stayed up late at night arguing over the ethics of gene splicing and transmutation," Saraaf spoke through the microphone. At the sound of The Master's name, Hunter became wide awake.

"It is unfortunate that Professor Shepherd died in a lab accident over three years ago. We lost a brilliant mind that day, and I have dedicated my research to him."

The fact that The Master had faked his death wasn't news to Hunter. The Master had explained that even though Parvo knew that Shepherd wasn't dead, the world wasn't ready for the professor to come back from the dead. The human race wasn't ready to know the truth about the Road Rovers. It also made Hunter realize another reason for his presence. The Master probably wanted to watch the symposium, but because of his predicament, he couldn't risk being seen in public. Especially this public.

Dr. Saraaf said a few more words of gratitude about other colleagues, and then the audience broke out into polite applause.

Hunter sat up straighter at this, hoping that this was the end of the seminar. But to his disappointment, Dr. Saraaf seemed to be far from done.

With a gesture of his hands, he indicated that he wanted the stage curtains opened. In jerking motions, the blue cloth slowly opened showing a large dry erase board, a table and a few other things Hunter couldn't see because of where he sat.

Dr. Saraaf smiled into the microphone, obviously about to say something he thought was witty. "Well, I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about my biography. Now would be a good time to show what you have all came to see before you fall asleep."

Polite laughter echoed over the audience.

The man on stage put his fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp, short whistle. Immediately a medium-sized dog rushed onto the sage, ragged tail wagging. The dog went right up to Dr. Saraaf and sat down with an expectant look on his muzzle.

Hunter recognized the dog from the photo of Dr. Saraaf.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to my lab assistant, Dash. Say hello, Dash!"

Dash barked once, sitting still the whole time.

Saraaf rewarded Dash with a treat and then gestured for him to get onto the table. The dog obeyed readily, settling himself onto the table as if there weren't a thousand people watching him.

"He listens a lot better than my interns," Dr. Saraaf joked. "And he's cheaper too."

The audience laughed louder this time.

"First off, I have to tell you a little about Dash," Dr. Saraaf told the audience as he stroked the dog's scruffy fur. "I found Dash in an animal shelter about four years ago. He doesn't have a pedigree. I'm not even sure what kind of dog Dash is."

The audience murmured in amusement.

Hunter, with his keen eyes, scrutinized Dash. To everyone there, it was obvious that the dog was of mixed heritage. But this is what Hunter saw: Dash had a body shape more like a Corgi, longer than average, but his legs were longer. His coloring was much like a Husky's, except a much darker gray like a Malamute, but where there should have been white there was a light, dirty gray color. Instead of a lighter coloring at the tip of his long, bushy tail, Dash had his darker coloring on top and the lighter on the underside. He had a fluffy neck and face, with sharp ears that stood up. He would have looked much like a miniature husky in the face except his nose was sharper and shorter.

"I have no idea where this dog came from. He hadn't been treated with anything as far as I know before I adopted him," Saraaf continued with his explanation. "Just a plain, ordinary dog."

Dr. Saraaf went on to explain about an experiment he had done with Dash. It was quite technical, and most of it Hunter didn't understand. But after glancing around the audience, he knew that most of the people knew what the doctor was talking about. And it was very interesting. After a while, Hunter began to form the big picture.

He's doing the same thing Master did to us, except a little different, Hunter thought to himself.

As he listened, Hunter summarized some of the points that Dr. Saraaf was saying in more layman's lingual. First, that DNA is mold-able in a way that it can be sliced, added to, changed and altered under certain circumstances. Dr. Saraaf had found a way to put DNA into a state where changing a creature's DNA strain was safe and certain. Second, he has no way of pin-pointing specific points on the double helix to change the DNA, so the process would either be general or chaotic. In all his case experiments, the combining of DNA has always been stable, and the change was mild in the creature. Third, creatures can't be splice with just any other creature. You can't splice a chimpanzee with a sea slug, their DNA was just too different. The more in common, DNA-wise, the creatures were, the more successful the process will be. It's safest to stay within the same animal class with a few exceptions. If you spliced human DNA into a whale, it wouldn't work since body shapes are very different. But splicing human DNA into a dog is easy.

Is that what Master did with us? Hunter thought, looking down at his furry hands. Do I have human DNA inside of me?

Hunter couldn't dwell on that for long since his attention was on Dr. Saraaf as the professor explained that he had spliced Dash's DNA with that of human DNA.

"I believe that Dash's IQ has raised 50 points in the last year. I can't verify that this is because of my experiments since this isn't a proper study of my findings. Hopefully with a grant, we can test a wide variety of animals spliced with human DNA to see if this is true, with a control group as well.

"Dash has made leaps and bounds in his training. He can answer simple math questions and recognize over two thousand faces. He even remembers students I've had for only a few days. He remembers what he did weeks ago, and he even chooses what he wants to eat for dinner."

"Can he roll over?" a voice from the audience called out, which caused a ripple of laughter.

Dr. Saraaf nodded, as if the man asked a very intelligent question rather than a joke. "Yes, all of this sounds like I'm bragging about how great my dog's tricks are. Perhaps a demonstration is more in order. Okay, Dash, are you ready?"

Dash barked at this, and wagged his tail.

Saraaf pulled out a small dry erase board and a marker. He uncapped the marker and let Dash take it in his mouth.

"Dash, what is your name?" he asked the dog.

In capital, sloppy letter, Dash wrote his name.

"Good boy," the scientist said as he erased the board. "What's my name?"

Again, Dash wrote with the marker in his mouth.

For a few minutes, Dr. Saraaf asked question after question. Some were math questions, others were questions about their surroundings and what Dash liked to do. After a while, he asked a few more complicated questions involving science and history. Most involved simple knowledge and one word answers. Dash answered all correctly. All this time, the audience had been whispering to each other, but not all of the people sounded convinced.

A woman stood up to address the doctor. "This is all very entertaining, but how do we know that this dog hasn't been coached into these answers."

Dr. Saraaf laid the dry erase board down and folded his arms. He didn't look angry or defensive as he spoke. "Okay, then Dash will take some answers from the audience. And to make things fair, miss, could you come up here and hold the board."

The woman hesitated, but in the end, went up to the stage while Dr. Saraaf left to take a seat in the audience.

Soon the audience was a cacophony of voices asking questions for Dash to answer.

"What do you think of our current president?"

"Do you like to eat dog food?"

"What is your position on the neutering and spaying of dogs?"

"Do you remember your parents?"

"Do you have a religious preference?"

The woman who was on the stage calmly asked Dash questions that were suggested from the audience, and each time Dash answered. However, his answers were a little disappointing. Most of the questions were about his opinion on current events and culture, and most of the time he only wrote, "No preference."

Hunter wasn't surprised. What did a dog want with clothing or what was being shown on TV? However, the Golden Retriever felt disappointed when Dash had no preference of music either. How could someone not like music?

The culture questions usually came from reporters who were there for the fun of it and were trying to make fun of the situation. However, a there were a few who asked some serious questions dealing with politics. These questions Dash refused to answer, and when cajoled enough, only wrote, "Don't understand." This brought out the skeptical scoffs, and many muttered how this was a waste of time.

Hunter didn't blame Dash. Even he didn't understand some of those questions, and he'd been a Road Rover for over two years. As far as Hunter could estimate, Dash had the education of a third grade human child. How many eight-year-old children could answer those questions?

The other questions were basic enough, quizzing Dash on basic knowledge, and about his daily schedule. After a while, the woman on stage looked as if she had enough and said so.

"Just a minute," Dr. Saraaf said before she could put the board down. "You didn't ask Dash a question. And before you do, write it down on the board, and let him read it."

Someone next to Hunter whispered to his neighbor that this was the most unbelievable publicity stunt he'd ever seen. The two men stood up, and left the auditorium, disgruntled.

The woman on stage took a moment to think of a question, and then hurriedly wrote it down. She looked as if she believed this just as much as the men that had left.

When presented with the white board, Dash put his nose to every word that was written as if he were a child reading words and following along with their finger. When finished, he sat down and looked at the woman expectantly. When the board was wiped clean and the marker given back to him, Dash wrote down four words, that made a complete, if broken, sentence.

"He need eat more," the woman read out loud so others knew what it said. She then said, "My question was, 'What do you think of Dr. Saraaf?'"

At this, the audience's view of this display changed; there seemed to be more people persuaded by a dog criticizing his master rather than displaying his intelligence. Dr. Saraaf thanked the woman on stage as he stepped back into the light, and ushered her off stage to go back to her seat.

"For your information, Dash is the more responsible of the two of us," Dr. Saraaf said with a warm smile. "He reminds me when meal time is, and often whines if I don't finish what's on my plate. He's very motherly." The doctor rubbed Dash's head as the dog leaned against his master.

At this time, a reporter jumped up and waved a hand with a pen in it. Dr. Saraaf only had to look at him before he was speaking. "This is all very interesting, but I'm sure you didn't bring us all out here just to show you can play God. Great, you can make dogs smarter, but that doesn't sound like ground-breaking work."

"I'm assuming you're wanting to know how this benefits mankind, since you didn't add a question in all that," Dr. Saraaf said with intelligent eyes. He waited for the reporter to sit back down before he would speak again. "Yes, I didn't bring the press and all my colleagues here just to show that I have the smartest dog in the world. I brought you here to show you the potential my research has, and what it means for the future.

"One thing I didn't mention about Dash is that because of the splicing of DNA, he will probably live longer. I have no proof of this since he is only about six years old. But I'm sure that time will tell that he'll live a good twenty or thirty years longer than other dogs. Imagine a world where people don't have to say good-bye to their pets too early. You can actually have a companion that lives just as long as you do. This would be even more beneficial for those with service dogs. A blind person wouldn't have to keep replacing their guide dogs every decade or so. The police and army wouldn't have to spend so much on training their bomb and drug sniffing dogs. Not to mention, the increase of intelligence would help with search and rescue.

"On a further, yet superficial note, puppy training wouldn't take so long. Owners could take their dogs everywhere since dogs would know what is proper behavior at all times. Leashes would no longer be needed. Family pets would be better guard dogs since they can be told what to look for and guard against. Bad dog behavior will be easy to eliminate through counseling, and they'd no longer need to be put to sleep. Dog fighting rings would no longer have anywhere to hide as our canine friends would be quick to report their fellow dogs being abused.

"And this doesn't just apply to dogs, but all animals as well. Imagine the possibilities of splicing different mammals with human DNA. Or one animal with another. There are limitless combinations that can be done with this new type of science. Who knows where the evolution of our world can achieve with this new type of science?"

Hunter felt the fur on the back of his neck rise at the last part of Dr. Saraaf's speech. Was it just him, or did the doctor sound as if there was a little mania in his voice? He looked around, and others were whispering to their neighbors secretively. Hunter was glad to see he wasn't the only one disturbed by this.

"And that isn't all. In the future, I hope to be able to control the changes during the process. If I can achieve this, then human DNA could be improved upon. A dog's hearing is very acute. Perhaps, with the right technology, dog DNA would be able to cure those who are hearing impaired. A cat's sight would help those who need glasses. Imagine being able to see in the dark like a cat, or have the nose senses of a dog. Compared to other mammals, humans have very under-developed senses. Animals usually have one sense that's stronger than the others, but humans have been given the shaft, so to speak, in this area. With my technology, we can change all that."

Once again the audience was in an uproar of voices, but all of it among themselves. From what Hunter could hear with his ears there were mixed feeling about all of this. There were those who argued for Dr. Saraaf, saying that it would be no different than transplanting a pig's heart into a man. Others were saying what Dr. Saraaf was talking about was unethical.

It took many minutes for Dr. Saraaf to calm everyone down enough to begin speaking again.

"I know a lot of you disagree with my work, and it may not be accepted everywhere. At best, it will be years until my research is ready for human experimentation, maybe decades. At worst, I'll not be given a grant to continue my work, or, even along the road, find out that Dash is just a very intelligent dog."

That made the audience laugh, and it cleared the air of contention. At that moment, a reporter stood up to ask a question.

"Dr. Saraaf, how does it all work? Do you just give the doggy a shot, or is radiation involved? Come on, give us the scoop."

Dr. Saraaf put his hands up in a stopping motion. "I'm sorry, but that's all confidential. I'm not giving out the details and specifics. This is just merely a demonstration, and a pathetic attempt for someone to sponsor me. This demonstration is over, but I will take one or two more questions. Maybe Dash will answer a few. But for now, this seminar is over."

A majority of the audience stood up at that time. Most started to leave the auditorium, but a few meandered to the front to either ask a question or listen to the reporters. Hunter, for his part, moved to the side and along the wall to get closer to the professor. He had a feeling that Parvo was nearby, but he still couldn't see the man. Part of him knew that the General wouldn't try anything with such a big crowd, but Hunter couldn't take that chance.

If only I could just explain the situation to him, Hunter thought to himself, but remembered The Master's instructions.

The lone Road Rover continued to watch as more and more of the reporters started packing up and leaving. Dr. Saraaf was now surrounded by more students than reporters. One in particular, a blonde female, seemed to be hanging very close to his side. The scientist said something to the group of students, and a burst of laughter came from the group. Obviously Dr. Saraaf wasn't leaving any time soon.

Hunter scanned the crowd slowly, determined not to miss anything. If Parvo was in the auditorium, then the Road Rover would spot him. Near the farthest exit, a large man was leaning against one of the support columns where it was dark. He was wearing a large trench coat and wide-brim hat. Hunter kept watching the man, especially since the human seemed interested in Dr. Saraaf but wasn't going any closer. After a while, the man stepped away from the column and into the light. The super-powered cano-mutant's ears went straight up as he saw a blond mustache on the man's face as he walked out of the auditorium.

Careful not to use his super powers least he hurt someone, Hunter rushed to the other side of the auditorium to follow the man in the trench coat. Hunter was lucky there weren't many people left at the symposium since he could still see the man once he went down to the exit. Before the man could reach the outside glass door, Hunter was right behind him, grabbing his shoulder.

"Parv. . . o?"

"Hey, man. What gives?"

As Hunter spun the man around, he realized that he had made a mistake. The man was far too young, the enormous mustache looked to be an attempt to make the man look tougher and older, but instead made him look like a pedophile.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone else," Hunter quickly said as he retraced his steps back into the auditorium. He stopped in his steps as he noticed the front of the large room was empty save for a few remaining news crew and meandering students. Dr. Saraaf was gone.

"Hey, do you know where Dr. Saraaf has gone?" Hunter asked the first person he met.

"Yeah, he just left with some woman. I think they went out the back," the student said, pointing to a door just beyond the stage.

While that in itself shouldn't have been alarming, Hunter still started to move toward the stage at a jog. As he thought back on that quick glance at the woman, he couldn't help but think that if the woman had black hair, she would look exactly like The Groomer.

The Road Rover practically kicked down the back stage door and looked in both directions. One was a dead end, the other was a very long and empty hallway with a door at then end, which was swinging closed. With nobody watching, Hunter used his super speed to get to the door and went out. It lead outdoors, right into an alleyway which also lead out to the grassy, open area at the front of the building. As Hunter ran out of the alleyway, he could see that the area was still crowded with news crews and students bustling around. He scanned the crowd, looking for the blonde woman or Dr. Saraaf.

Then he heard a dog barking. Hunter knew it came from Dash. With his sharp ears, he could easily pinpoint that the bark came from the left of him, away from the front of the building. Looking in that direction, he saw the blonde woman walking arm in arm with Dr. Saraaf. Immediately he wanted to take the professor away from the woman, but remembered his orders to not be seen. But that order basically kept his hands tied when it came to keeping Dr. Saraaf safe.

"Master. . .?" he asked, wondering if communication was back on. "Are you there?"

A static filled voice came onto his ear piece faintly. "-ere Hunter."

"The doc is being led away by The Groomer. What do I do?" Hunter asked, eager to serve.

"Stop him," The Master ordered sharply.

Just as Hunter was about to race toward to the two, the voice in the ear piece said something that made him hesitate. "But don't be seen."

Irritated, Hunter started walking swiftly across the grass. "If I can't be seen, how am I going to stop them," the golden retriever said, trying not to whine. He was close to putting his tail between his legs in distress.

"Think of something, Hunter. This is very important," The Master urged.

Eyes darting all over, the Road Rover leader quickly formed a rudimentary planned. Even if he couldn't show his powers to Saraaf, he was very good at not being seen. At least, not clearly.

Farid Saraaf was intrigued by the blonde woman that approached him after the symposium. At first he had been skeptical about her claim of having studied William Shepherd's work and owned some of his unpublished papers, but after a while, he could tell that she knew her stuff. He was more impressed when she revealed to him some of her own theories about creating a trans-mutated canine, one that was almost human but still had the senses and outward appearance of a dog. She even hinted to a way of creating super-human properties in these "cano-mutants", as she called them. While he didn't agree with all she said was possible, at least not without much more research, it was still an intriguing idea.

To prevent being interviewed by the press, Saraaf had agreed to take the woman out the back door of the auditorium. As they crossed the campus green, Dr. Saraaf became more and more involved in his conversation with the woman, adding to her theories his own hypothesises. They were almost to the public parking lot when Dash grabbed his master's pant leg in his mouth and pulled.

"Oh, my car is in the employee parking lot," Saraaf realized as he looked around. "I'm in the opposite direction."

"Please, Doctor, let me take you out to lunch. I'd hate to leave our conversation as it is," the woman said with her exotic accent. She leaned toward the scientist, her hand on his chest.

It was obvious, even to Saraaf, that this woman was laying on her charms a little too thick. He didn't know what she wanted from him, but Farid wasn't at all attracted to her. He found his work far too important for a woman to come into his life. But he was still tempted mainly for the sake of having an intelligent conversation with a colleague, and maybe a prospective business partner.

Again, Dash pulled on his pants suit, growling in an urgent, non-threatening way.

"I am sorry, but I'll have to take a rain-check on that lunch," Saraaf apologized. "I really should be getting this guy home and feeding him. He's had a busy day."

Not many people knew that he had often used Dash as a reason to get away at certain moments. It wasn't that Dash actually wanted to go home to eat; Saraaf kept spare dog food in his car and his office. It was because of his best kept secret, one that nobody, not even the college, knew of. Nobody except Dash knew the exact time of day he had to take his medication.

"Doctor, I must insist that you come with me," the woman said sternly, her smile getting thin.

Dash whined, nervously dancing back and forth.

Saraaf shook his head and stepped away from from the woman. "I'm afraid I must insist on leaving, but I thank you for talking to me," he told her, not promising anything. Her intensity had made him wary. As he turned around to walk away, he felt a strong grip on his arm.

"I'm afraid I'm . . ."

The woman was interrupted by a small explosion that happened in the dumpster near the parking lot. It didn't seem too dangerous, yet it was loud enough to draw the attention of the people nearby.

Dash whimpered at the loud noise, hiding behind Saraaf's leg.

Suddenly a large gust of wind flung Farid onto his back with Dash crouched to the ground. Gasping for air, the scientist gazed around with wide eyes. It couldn't be coincidence that so many things were happening all at once. He looked for the woman and found her on the ground, appearing to be unconscious. He shakily picked himself up and started toward the woman to see if she was alright. But he hesitated when he saw that her blonde hair was a wig that lay a few feet away from her body.

Another gust of wind came upon him, one not so strong. Distinctly he heard a voice say, "Run," but when he turned around, there was no one there. Shaken by the almost supernatural events around him, he turned around and ran.

"Follow him, Hunter."

The golden retriever was just about to do so when he heard a noise behind him. Turning, he saw The Groomer sitting up with a communication device held to her mouth.

"General, the Road Rovers are here. The professor is running," she relayed. Once she had spoken her message, her eyes landed on Hunter and she knew who he was despite his disguise.

There was a strange vibration in the air, and suddenly people were shouting and pointing to the sky. Right above the grassy area of the college, a bulldog-shaped, hovering ship appeared out of nowhere.

"I would not have predicted this," Hunter whispered to himself, in awe that Parvo had added invisibility to his arsenal.

"You must get to the professor first," The Master ordered, his voice so loud it was starting to give Hunter a headache.

"What about being seen?" Hunter asked, starting to move at regular speed after the man and his dog.

"If Parvo brings out his own cano-mutants, then there really is no point," The Master said, sounding a bit defeated. "Let's just hope that your disguise is good enough."

Farid Saraaf couldn't believe how crazy this day was turning out to be. That blonde seemed to be the start of the weirdness that now lead to a flying, metal dog. He had stopped running long enough to watch the unusual object in the sky as it shot down a beam of light at him. Thinking he had only seconds to live, the professor dove for cover, grabbing Dash's collar on his way down. Only when he was sure that he wasn't dying that he looked around.

A man with a blond mustache and a silver helmet was slowly lowered to the ground from the ship by the beam of light. He was dressed in a muscle shirt and, to add to the strangeness of the situation, had a robotic left arm and right leg.

From his position on the ground, Dr. Saraaf tried to stumble onto his feet to run away. Dash had put himself between his master and the strange man, growling defensively.

"I'm not here to hurt you, professor," the man said in a raspy voice. "I am here to help you."

Saraaf crawled backward, trying to keep his distance from the man. "W-who are you?"

"I am a friend," the stranger simply said. "You must come with me. You are in danger."

"That woman. . .," Saraaf said, his eyes widening. He knew there was something wrong about her, especially since she wore a wig.

"That was my assistant," the stranger said with a shake of his head. "I apologize for the deception, but I had to. Our enemies were very close, and I had to get you away quickly."

"Again, who are you?" the professor repeated again with more confidence. He finally found his strength to stand up.

"There is no time. We must go." The man had started to raise his voice, but then started coughing near the end.

"General, watch out!"

A female's voice shouted out the warning, and then the stranger was leaping at Dr. Saraaf. Not long after they hit the ground, there was the sound of laser firing. Right where Saraaf had been standing was charred grass.

"What's going on? Who is shooting at us?" Saraaf shouted, keeping his head down.

"The Road Rovers," the stranger whispered harshly.

When the laser beam whipped past his head and nearly hit Dr. Saraaf, Hunter had turned his head to see who was firing. He only caught a glimpse of The Groomer before she slammed her fist into his face. The sucker punch was strong enough to knock him flat on his back, dazing him for a few seconds. When he finally managed to get back onto his feet, he was dizzy and his vision was blurry.

"What is that thing?"

When Hunter heard Saraaf shout those words, he gulped in fear. It didn't take him long to realize his hat and fake beard had been removed, and his face was bare for anyone to look upon.

"Keep away from him, you monster," The Groomer shouted, now at General Parvo's side.

"Be careful, professor. He won't be alone," Parvo warned the scientist.

Before Hunter could react, suddenly multiple lasers were being fired, but not at him. They were targeting the three humans.

Parvo grabbed Dr. Saraaf by the arm. "Come on, professor. We don't stand a chance against those monsters."

Everything was happening so fast, and Hunter's head ached that he was unable to stop them from stepping into the beam of light from the bulldog ship and lifted up into the air.

"Dash! Here boy, come," Hunter heard the professor shout before they moved too far away for him. A streak of gray bounded toward the humans, and with a surprisingly high leap from the small dog, Dash landed in his master's arms. It wasn't long before they all disappeared into the ship, which flew away.

"Hunter, what's happening?" The Master's voice came on the radio along with a bunch of static. "I can't see anything."

"The Groomer jumped me. I couldn't do anything," Hunter said as he hung his head. "And what's worse, Dr. Saraaf saw my face." He remembered the laser fire and ran around to find the source of the attack. To his surprise, he didn't find any cano-mutants, but unmanned guns perfectly positioned to make it look like Hunter had a team to attack Saraaf. He grumbled to himself for making it so easy to help Parvo take the professor without a struggle.

All this time the radio was silent, and Hunter could imagine how angry The Master was. But all was not lost.

"You must get back to the Sky Rover, now," The Master ordered, sounding shaky.

As he did as he was told, he relayed to The Master while running, "Don't worry, I have everything covered. When I was knocking down The Groomer earlier, I put a bug on Saraaf. I should be able to track them."

"Good dog, Hunter," The Master praised. "Then all is not lost."

Once his super speed had carried him to where he hid the Sky Rover, he piloted the plane up into the sky before activating the bug. Parvo's ship wasn't too far away, so Hunter was optimistic that this mission wasn't a complete bust.

As soon as Hunter's team was able to, they had rushed to Road Rover Headquarters. The dog fashion show in Milan had hindered them from trading with their look-alikes. Ever since Blitz had been taken on a month long trip with the leader of Germany and had been out of commission, The Master had found dogs that looked just like every member of the team. These look-alikes were trained to quickly switch with the actual Road Rovers in situations like this.

"That was close-sky," Exile said as he exited the transdogmafier. "Owner almost saw two Exiles at one point."

"That was a sticky situation," Colleen agreed. "The Master must have something very important to call us away like that."

At this time, Blitz jumped out of his transdogmafier with aplomb. "Colleen, did you see me in the fashion show. I was hot, wasn't I? I should be a model."

Colleen rubbed her chin. "Yeah. . . I think I did see you. You were the one in the pink dress."

Blitz's ears went down. "No, I was wearing a camouflage jacket. It was sexy."

The collie only shook her head, her long hair whipping back and forth. "No, it was definitely the pink dress. It's so you."

Blitz stuck his nose up in the air. "You're just mad that you were the only one not in the show."

Besides Blitz, Exile and Shag had also been in the fashion show. The husky had been showing off some flashy dog shoes which he didn't mind them since they felt similar to the ones that sled dogs wore if they had an injured paw. Shag, because of his heavy fur, had been wearing a simple yodeler's hat.

For once, Blitz's comeback had stung Colleen more than she'd care to admit. Unlike the other Road Rovers, Colleen was placed with a country ruler that already had canine pets. Instead of entering the graceful collie, the Queen of England had entered all seven of her Pembroke Welsh Corgis into the show, gushing over how adorable they were in their clothing.

Over all, Colleen could care less. She had been alone for so long on the streets that she really didn't need anyone, least of all an owner. At times, she was even glad for the short dogs so the Queen had someone to pamper and hug. And Corgis weren't so bad, once they stopped barking. Her position in the palace was purely a job, some place she could keep an eye out for danger and keep England safe.

But missing out on the fashion show in Milan had made her a little sad. Silently she had gazed at all the dogs being paraded around in their fancy clothes and envied them. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all the boys on her team, that she wanted to wear something cute or pretty. Even wearing the Road Rover's uniform had lost its novelty; it was getting old. Recently she was starting to day dream of wearing something different, feminine. V-neck shirts. Flattering jeans. High heels. She wondered what it would be like to wear them.

"World to Colleen. Is anybody in there?" Exile asked as he waved his paw in front of the collie.

Shaking her head, Colleen broke away from her thoughts, angry at herself for thinking of such things while on duty. "Come on, gents. We've a job to do," Colleen told the boys, her voice angrier than she intended.

As The Master explained how the situation starting out with Hunter working alone in the field, there was less than the usual jokes. Mostly they just made fun of Hunter's disguise which The Master had mistakenly shown them. But when the radio transmission that The Master recorded was played back, they were quiet.

"Right now, Hunter is heading East," The Master explained, showing Hunter and Parvo's flight paths. "I don't know where Parvo is going, but we need to get the professor back ASAP. You four will go and head him off."

"Wait a minute, Master. Something is going on," Hunter's voice came from the computer. He had been on all this time, but had been content to listen as his team was briefed. "Parvo has stopped."

"Where?"

"Somewhere over Michigan," Hunter's voice answered. "I'm almost there."

"Go in slowly," The Master commanded softly, as if Parvo could hear him.

The Road Rovers and their human maker listened intently to the silence, trying to image what Hunter was seeing.

"I'm at the spot that the tracker indicates, but I don't see anything," Hunter told over the microphone. "I'm scanning the land, but I don't think there are any underground bunkers."

The Master sighed heavy. "He must have found the tracker and threw it overboard." The human didn't take long to morn over this before he straightened up. "It's up to you four Rovers. Take the Sonic Rover, and head along his path. If Parvo is heading anywhere, it might be New York. Now go."

"Yes Master," the four Rovers said together with a salute, and sprang to obey.

Once they had the professor in the ship, it had taken the two villains a while to calm him down. Clutching his dog (who wouldn't stop growling at the pair), Saraaf demanded answers to multiple questions.

"Sit down, professor. All in good time," Parvo said, gesturing to a chair for the man. Then he turned to the woman. "Start flying us East until I know where we should go from here. And keep the 'crew' out of sight." Parvo wanted to be as far away from California as possible, but if he could persuade Saraaf to work with him, all the best supplies could be found in the East.

Saraaf did as he was told, hushing Dash with a command. "I think I'm within my rights to be upset. It's not every day that I get beamed up into a UFO." Even though Saraaf was being sarcastic, he wondered how close he was to the truth. He had recently been hearing a lot of strange stories being passed around by his students. Aliens, werewolves, talking anthropomorphic dogs and mutated bugs were just the start, but after what he saw today, perhaps those stories weren't so farfetched.

Only when Parvo felt the ship start moving at high speeds did he relax. "Okay, professor," he relented. "Now I will answer your questions."

For the next hour, General Parvo spun the biggest web of lies he had ever told, explaining to the scientist that he had been targeted by an old friend from Saraaf's past. He told a story of how William Shepherd was still alive after faking his own death so he could go underground and create an army of super-powered canine slaves. Shepherd had succeeded in creating his abominations, the Road Rovers, and was now trying to take over the world. Only General Parvo and his assistant, The Groomer, knew about this nefarious plot and were trying to stop him.

The reason that Shepherd wanted Dr. Saraaf was because General Parvo had stolen all of Shepherd's research and his transdogmafier. Shepherd had been unable to recreate the experiment, and thinks that Saraaf can help him make more and better cano-sapiens.

As all of this was related to the scientist in detail, he tried to grasp onto the information. Not only did this story not fit into Saraaf's memories of who Shepherd was, but he was having a hard time concentrating on anything long enough to determine if Parvo was lying. He was feeling agitated and his stress was increasing. He could feel the signs of panic starting to show. He knew that he needed to take his prescription soon and wondered when his last pill was. Sometimes, when he was working, he would forget to take his medication for days. Did he take one yesterday? Or the day before? By the feel of it, it had been a few days.

"That doesn't sound like Shepherd at all," Saraaf argued, wiping his forehead. "He wouldn't do something like that."

"It was that explosion that almost killed him," Parvo said, slightly changing his story. "It must have done something to his mind, because he's no longer the same Shepherd."

"That thing. . .," the scientist went on, remembering what he saw during the laser fire. "That was. . ."

"Yes, one of Shepherd's creations," Parvo affirmed. "You saw how it was shooting at us. Obviously when it saw that I was with you, it was ordered to attack. If Shepherd can't have your help, he most likely will want you dead."

Saraaf paled and loosened his tie and button shirt. "Well, you have my word that I won't help him. I need to go home, now." He wasn't sure how he'd react without his medicine.

"No, you can't," Parvo said sharply, his face enraged. But a second later he was calm again. "If you go home, Shepherd will find you."

"I will tell the police," Saraaf reasoned, his fists clenched from nerves. "I will be fine."

"You don't understand. That monster of Shepherd's has powers, as do the others," Parvo continued to press. "Besides, now that you know the truth of Shepherd's evil, we need you to help us."

"But I need to go home. I need. . . something," Saraaf said vaguely. Even with Parvo's secret situation, the professor was hesitant to reveal his plight.

Parvo waved his hand casually. "We will provide you with everything you need," he said, writing off Saraaf's pleading. "Now come. I would like you to see my work."

Farid Saraaf followed the large man into another section of the ship with Dash so close to his heels, the dog nearly tripped him. In this room, there was a moderate laboratory that had some major machinery as well as chemicals. A large computer was set into one wall. The professor tried his hardest to ignore his symptoms, but after a while, he didn't need to. Once he was entranced by the information he was taking in, his condition seemed to melt away. It was one reason he could easily loose himself in his work, it just made one critical part of his life much easier. Before long, Saraaf was fixing problems in Parvo's information and writing down his own equations to chemical mixtures.

"So, do you think you could recreate Shepherd's experiment?" Parvo asked as he hungrily licked his lips.

"Hmmm," Saraaf said absently before he understood the question. "Oh, I don't know if it would be worth it. There are gaps in your information, and as far as I can see, Shepherd could not have made such a complicated creature as you described with this machine. At best, he'd have mutated the canine, but their intelligence wouldn't have evolved. But why would you want me to recreate it? Don't you have his machine?"

This revelation made Parvo so irritated he almost lost his temper, but kept it together. "Yes, but it was damaged," the villain lied. He didn't mention that the information Saraaf was looking over was what Parvo learned from building the machine from Shepherd's blueprints. But without Shepherd's notes, he didn't understand half of it.

"However, there seems to be another way. A way that does not involve this 'transdogmafier' machine," Saraaf said as he wrote down more equations. "Theoretically, it can be done with the right formula of chemicals and treated DNA. Basically, it would be much like my own research, but on a higher level."

Parvo seized Saraaf's shoulders and squeeze hard. "Then do it!" he ordered.

At the outburst, Dash growled and barked threateningly at Parvo.

The professor pulled away, his face showing surprise. "But what you are asking me to do is completely unethical. Not only have I not calculated the outcome over and over again through a super computer, but you're asking me to skip scientific steps, including animal experimentation before moving on to human volunteers. It's just not done."

During Saraaf's dialogue, Parvo felt his pressure rise, and he just wanted to slap the human across the face. But when he heard the words "human volunteers", he reeled. "Humans? No, I want to mutate dogs!"

Saraaf shook his head in frustration. "I just don't see how it could be done. What you are asking for is too radical of a change. It makes more sense to inject a human with dog DNA first to see the results. In fact, afterward, you could use the human's altered DNA to easily make these 'cano-sapiens' that you've described." As the words spilled out of his mouth, Dr. Saraaf wondered why he was saying them. The experiment was unethical, but for some reason, his mind continued to work on the problem to make it possible. He recognized when he was going into a mania.

At first Parvo was furious with what the professor had said. The villain adamantly believed that dogs were the noblest of creatures, and only they were worthy to be his servants. But when he thought about it, humans could have that dog-like loyalty, much like The Groomer was with him. And if he could transform humans into cano-sapiens, he could control them much like he could his own cano-mutants.

Dr. Saraaf did hint that after a while, after a few experiments, perhaps he could switch to transforming dogs. Parvo did understand the concept that sometimes you had to start with a short cut with science before you could create the real thing. In some cases, the shortest way was a curved line.

But he needed to know one more thing.

"What about the super powers? Does the equation include that?" the general asked tentatively.

Saraaf, involved in the work, barely looked up. "No. That of all things I couldn't figure out. It sounds like something from a comic book. But if the subject already displayed normal than usual characteristics in one area, the transformation could emphasize them," Saraaf said off-hand. "Much like a weight-lifter would have better strength if combined with the right DNA."

Almost gently, Parvo laid his hand on Saraaf's neck. When he did, he felt something odd clinging to the professor's shirt collar. He picked it up and looked at it. "Professor," he said softly as he nonchalantly clenched the object in his hand. "If you had the chemicals and the equipment, could you make the formula? For hypothetical reasons."

Dr. Saraaf seemed eager to even start the experiment, stating that there was no harm in creating it. He even wanted to try it out on a lab rat.

I'll get you a lab rat, Parvo thought with a smile as he showed the scientist where the supplies were. Lucky for him, the villain had everything the man asked for.

As Saraaf was working on his "theoretical" formula, Parvo moved to the pilot's cabin where The Groomer and cano-mutants were. He took the tracker he found on the professor and dropped it into a shoot that would expel it outside the ship.

"What now, General?" The Groomer asked eagerly.

Once Parvo was sure Hunter's bug was gone, he asked, "Do you still have the file of extra-ordinary humans that you once researched?"

"Yes, but I thought you had rejected my idea," The Groomer said with surprise. One self-designated job that she had was to constantly research the world and setting aside any information that could eventually be useful for the future. She had abandoned her last project of trans-mutated felines for another idea. She found a string of humans that displayed "super-human" characteristics. Most were probably hoaxes, and not worth their time. But there were a few who didn't crave the limelight, and those The Groomer had been very interested in. She had presented this information to Parvo, but at the time he wasn't interested. As always, she never threw any of this information away.

"I need one of them. Someone on the East coast. And make sure they aren't a fake," Parvo ordered, feeling a little nervous. He wasn't sure of this new direction he was taking, but he didn't see much of a choice. Saraaf was proving to be difficult to manipulate. He'd be lucky if this plan worked. And if it did, then Parvo might be able to get rid of the man.

"Here's one. She lives in New Jersey," The Groomer said, and printed off the bio. "She's a 'dog whisperer', and so far has stayed away from the media."

The information looked to be a few newspaper articles of a girl, perhaps thirteen, and her gift. The article was from almost a decade ago, so Parvo guessed she was an adult by now. That was better, adults weren't missed as easily as children were.

"And she still is in New Jersey?"

"The same town. She never left."

That sounded promising. She might be the real thing.

"Then let's go get this. . . Mira Ortega."

Alone in the bathroom, Mira went through her routine. She had done her stretching in front of the other girls, but the rest she didn't want them to see. The first part involved her appearance. First she brushed her shoulder length black hair and put it into two tight pony tails. Make-up was next; she put it on slowly and deliberately. She didn't like to use too much and didn't need to. Her naturally tan skin was almost perfect, a gift from her mother's Italian ancestry.

But it was her hearing aids that she didn't want the others to see. She didn't want everyone to know about her disability. Getting a dancing gig was hard enough without being handicapped.

Even though she took very good care of both her hearing aides, she still liked to go through a cleaning routine before she danced. With rubbing alcohol and Q-tips, she cleaned them thoroughly. Carefully, she removed both batteries and replaced them with brand new ones. She couldn't risk them running out of energy in the middle of a song.

Finally she was done and slipped them into ears that were also cleaned carefully.

She took one final look in the mirror to see if she was presentable. Although many dancers didn't wear jewelry since it was distracting, Mira wore a simple leather necklace with a metal heart that fit right in the dip of her collar bone. The heart was painted with bright, metallic pink paint that was chipped and scratched in many places. The heart was engraved with the name "Shadow".

Mira kissed two of her fingers before putting it on the metal heart.

"Wish me luck, Shadow," she whispered before leaving the bathroom.

Even though she took her time to get ready, Mira still had to wait a while until it was her turn. As she did, she bore through the groups of girls that looked her way coldly or gave her dirty looks. She heard that dancing was a very competitive career, and now she knew why. This was the second call-back, and still there were almost a hundred dancers. Not only was she competing again women who had experience, but there were those who could afford to have plastic surgery and make-overs.

"Mira Ortega."

When she heard her name called, she went to the stage. Already three other people were there. To save time, four dancers would perform at the same time. The one that had taken center stage was a tall blonde who wore designer dance clothes. She only glanced at Mira through false eye-lashes before facing the judges with head high.

For a minute, Mira felt as if she were against a giant (In more ways than one. She was, after all, not very tall). She was just one, small Jersey girl who had ventured into the big city for a chance to display her talent. She couldn't even hear the music if it wasn't for the devices in both her ears. Nature had given her the worse advantage; how did she expect to compete against girls like this?

But as the music started, her heart felt as if it longed for rhythm. Despite her handicap, Mira had been drawn to music, just like how her other gift kept her drawn to dogs. She couldn't escape who she was, just as she couldn't escape from "hearing" what dogs thought.

In the moment that Mira began the dance steps with deliberate and graceful movements, she was determined that she had what it took to be a dancer. Not with fancy clothes or artificial beauty, but by her own talent.

As she danced, she could tell that today was the day. Things would be different from now on.

End of Chapter 1

(Author's notes: For those of you who have read my first attempt at writing "Half Breed" [and if you remember that long ago], I'm going in a slightly different direction. So far, the story-line is basically the same, but I have a completely different game-plan with this story. Not only do I want to tell my OC's story a bit better, but I also have the goal to show each individual on the Road Rover's team. I'm hoping that not only will I give you readers the same fun-loving Rovers from the show, but also show how they are deep inside. I'm hoping that I can shed some different light on the Rovers while still being true to the characters.

As you may have noticed, I was trying to keep this story as authentic, time-wise. The show takes place in the late 90s during Bill Clinton's time in the White House, and I'm trying to keep my references within that time period. If anyone sees a discretion in that aspect, please tell me.

I also apologize for not getting to this story earlier. I had some great readers, and it broke my heart to stop writing "Half Breed" years ago. But at that time, my life was all over the place and some things were just more important than being a fan.

I would also like to invite those who don't have a deviantart account to go look on my page. I have a lot of silly Road Rover art and comics for you to view. I will have a link for it in my bio.

See you next time.)