Hello, and Merry Christmas! I want to thank everyone for their interest in my first Road Rovers story "Crash Course," and to those of you who have so kindly attended my other works as well! I wasn't actually expecting to finish this until some time next year, but work at my winter job has been especially slow, and thanks to the wi-fi proving impractical and my Skyrim problems still not being resolved (c'este la vie), I have had ample undistracted time to work on these stories for you all. I won't make promises about any kind of production rate like last time, but I'll do my best to keep this story moving.

Also, a quick shout-out to a couple of artists on DA who were nice enough to set me up with some Zootopia gift art for Christmas: Ellimc and DragonSnake9989. Elimmc's work can be seen in my gallery (at his preference) under the name DragonTamer2000, and DragonSnake's is on his own gallery. Elimmc also supplied the cover art for this story.

Happy reading!

"For every human action, there is an equal and opposite government program."

Unknown

White-haired but animated, Professor Shepherd sat in his underground study shuffling through his various notes. It had been fully three months since he had used his machine, the transfigurator, to transform five ordinary dogs into – though he could hardly say it with a straight face – superheroes. In the intervening time, he had been all but constantly busy trying to understand his new creations. Transfiguration was a new science even to him, and understanding the complex biological systems he had amalgamated from human and canine properties, enhanced to levels beyond the limits of either species, was at times too much even for him.

In an MRI machine next to him lay one of the cano-sapiens: a retriever mix named Hunter. Of the five, Hunter was easily the most amiable, often to the point of childlike absurdity. He was dressed in a blue gym shirt and red shorts at the moment, allowing a more ready physical examination.

"Are you just about done, Master?" asked Hunter.

Professor Shepherd repressed a sigh. "Yes, Hunter – and you don't have to call me Master. Professor Shepherd is fine." He studied the computer monitor before him and checked a few more details. "Yes, you can come out now."

"Oh, thanks," said Hunter, scooting out and stretching. "I was getting claustrophobic and had an itch I couldn't reach." He dropped down and scratched vigorously at a shin.

"You could have scratched it with your other foot," Shepherd reasoned.

Hunter looked stupefied for a moment, then laughed. "Oh. Duh. I'm still getting used to this."

The professor smiled, trying not to take too much amusement at Hunter's simplicity. He supposed if he had to adjust to life in a dog's body, three months wouldn't quite do it for him either. That reflection aside, he voiced the results of the MRI scan.

"It looks as though your body is adjusting well to the recent treatments," he announced. "Hopefully with proper hydration this should put a stop to the visual distortions when you exert yourself at your limits."

Hunter scratched his head. "Uh, come again?"

Professor Shepherd now had reason to reflect on his own quaintness. He sometimes forgot that he was dealing not with fellow scientists or even grown humans, but with – for all purposes – youngsters. Considering how little time they had even been equipped to speak English, he had to curb his vocabulary sometimes. "Drink enough water and your eyes shouldn't get blurry anymore when you run at top speed."

"Oh. Is that what you said?"

Smiling softly to himself, the professor nodded. "Yes. I think that should…"

He was cut off by a phone ringing on his desk; the cordless kind, as his underground base didn't get such good cell phone service. Noting the number on his caller ID, he reflected that sometimes that was a mercy.

"Something wrong?" asked Hunter, pricking his ears.

"Uhh, business call," Shepherd replied. "You can go."

"Ohhh," said Hunter. "Okay. Say hi to General Malone for me, 'kay?"

Shepherd sighed. As quaint as Hunter could be, sometimes even the most benign tact was useless with him. "I will."

When the retriever mix was gone, the man picked up the phone. "Hello, general?"

"Hello. I assume you know why I'm calling." Malone's voice was crisp and blunt; consummately military with only a small trace of regret betraying any semblance of mixed feelings – or any feelings – about the conversation.

"Yes, I'm aware. They're all doing fine, by the way."

"That's good to hear, but you know I'm calling about more than the progress of your project."

"I do know that, and you know my answer. The cano-sapiens and the transfigurator are not going anywhere."

A sigh came through the phone line. They had danced this tango so many times they could have done it blindfolded in a minefield. "I know, but you know I don't have much wiggle room here. It's all I can do to convince the top brass not to freeze your assets and seize your work by force."

"I know, and I appreciate you backing me on this, but I can't trust anyone with this technology." Privately, Professor Shepherd wasn't sure he even trusted himself with the machine's godlike power, or for that matter the well-being of the creatures he had used it to make. "You already saw what could happen if even one man with the wrong intentions got hold of it."

"Which is exactly why the government wants to have a counterweapon," Malone answered with a hint of fatigue creeping into his voice. "If something happened to you…"

"The cano-sapiens are not weapons," Shepherd insisted pointedly.

"You know that and I know that, but Parvo's still out there," Malone protested. "He's got a power and force like we've never seen before. We need to be able to even up the score if he strikes again with a stronger army."

This familiar debate was wearing on Shepherd's nerves. "Please tell the president that I'm thinking it over."

"I will. I assume it would be useless to say that I convinced him to offer you a spot as head of the whole project if you give us the machine?"

A sigh escaped the scientist. "You know that's not my main concern, but… thank you."

General Malone broke off from his usual script at this point. "Well, I figure I owe you that much. I'll be in touch."

"Of course you will. Oh, and Hunter says hello."

The call ended, and Professor Shepherd leaned back in his chair. He had to admit he felt rather like a hypocrite for saying the cano-sapiens weren't a weapon. In a sense, that was exactly why he made them in the first place: as a strike force against Parvo's monsters. Besides, hadn't the project begun as a military endeavor? He had exploited a loophole in the contract to wrest his research from the government – and even from his own company – when things got too hot, but he never would have gotten as far as he had without military funding and support. The truth was that deep down he still felt like a thief and a traitor at times, especially when he thought of the medical power his machine held. The ability to rebuild a living body… was it really right to withhold health from so many veterans out of fear of what someone could do?

For that matter, what would happen if General Parvo – wherever he was – chose to strike again?

Not too long after, in another part of the base, Hunter decided to make use of the base's gymnasium. There he was pleased to find Colleen, his female colleague, already exercising. She was dressed in a red tank top and pink shorts, and was hard at work against a training dummy. This one was equipped with buttons corresponding to key pressure points and pain centers of a human body, and she had already broken four of those buttons.

"Hey Colleen," Hunter greeted with a cheery wave. "How's it wagging."

She glanced his way. "Well, I don't know that that's any of your business, Huntuh."

The slight rebuff puzzled Hunter, but he shrugged it off and went to one of the treadmills. He soon forgot about Colleen's apparent mood when he saw with pleasure that punching in his settings had become second nature. In less than a minute he had the treadmill starting, swiftly accelerating to his desired pace. His feet became a blur under him and his hands left the holds to let his arms pump freely. Faster and faster he ran; faster than even a greyhound could go. He had always been fast as a dog, but as a cano-sapien, whoo!

'Although cano-sapien does sound kind of dumb,' he thought to himself. 'We're like superheroes, right? We should have cooler names.'

In addition to gaining a better handle on their newfound powers and anatomy, Professor Shepherd had been making efforts to train the mutants in human culture. This involved a lot of classes – as he called them – but Hunter was honestly much more interested in something else placed at their disposal: movies and TV shows. His personal favorites were ones about superheroes, on which his rapid and somewhat distraction-prone mind now drew for ideas.

'Let's see. Justice Dogs? No, that's stupid. Super Dogs? Nah. Pet Avengers is taken. What about Underdogs?'

Perhaps he should have been more focused on his running. Out of nowhere, one of his toes rammed into the opposite heel and he literally tripped over his own feet.

"YAH!" he cried as the treadmill – whirring beneath him at about fifty-five miles an hour – shot him backwards like a rocket.

Colleen, who had carried on an unrelenting assault on her target the whole time that Hunter ran, stopped and strode over to him, slowing slightly as she came. "Need a hand up?" she asked, leaning over.

He shook his head and pressed his hands to the floor, groaning slightly. If the floor hadn't been basically one giant exercise mat as a protection against just such mishaps, he'd probably have been a total wreck. "I'm fine," he said, rising to his feet and trying not to look as pained as he was. He smiled to show he was alright… or maybe it was a grimace. He wasn't quite sure of facial expressions yet; one of several things that seemed to come and go with being a… whatever they were going to be called. They needed a better name.

"Tripped ovah your own feet again, didja?" she asked in a snarky tone that complimented her Cockney accent.

"Eh, I'm still getting used to it," he offered helplessly. "I'm just glad I didn't do that when I caught you falling off that train."

Oddly enough the memory of his saving her life seemed to annoy her. "Well, alright then," she answered with a masked huff. "Let me know if you need anything."

Hunter gazed after her. The professor had been diligent in teaching the team basic hand-to-hand combat – mostly through training videos, since few humans other than himself ever came to the base. Colleen had shown the most promise by far, dodging with dancer-like elegance and striking with surgical precision. Hunter had taken up the prospect of a sparring match with her a week before, and although she had beaten him soundly she had hardly said a kind word to him since.

What's up with that, anyway? he wondered as he went back to the treadmill and reset it. Colleen had quickly shown that she had a sharp demeanor beneath her delicate build, and in the three months the team had been together she'd gotten into the occasional argument with just about everyone. Blitz in particular seemed to chafe her – often without trying – but Hunter had never had any problems to speak of with her until that ill-fated bout.

He resolved to get to the bottom of that, but first he had to focus on his running.

Back in his office, Professor Shepherd received another call. Wearily, he picked up the phone.

"Hello? Yes, I thought you would call. A deal? Wait, what?"

Over on the other end, Malone was relating some serious news. "I'm sorry, Professor, but it's an urgent matter and I had to give him something."

"But they're not nearly ready. Even the best of them can hardly fly a-" Shepherd stopped as Malone pressed his news home. Supporting himself with a hand to his forehead, the professor nodded. "Alright, I'll talk with them… and thank you for trying."

Ten minutes later, a tone throughout the base heralded an announcement over the intercom. "Attention, cano-sapiens."

Hunter yelped a little as he lost his footing, but managed to get his feet on the immobile areas to either side of the treadmill belt.

"Please report to the briefing room at once. You are needed."

"Oh, cool," said Hunter brightly, shutting off the machine. "Hey, race you there."

Colleen regarded him with a 'you're kidding, right?' look as he shot out the door. Then she shook her head and followed at her own pace.

"Hey Exile!" called Hunter, zipping past the husky. "Big meeting in the break room."

"Dah, I know this," answered the husky gruffly, breaking into a jog at the sight of his racing comrade. He paused at the open door to a sort of common or rec room. Blitz was on the couch glued to a large screen on the wall.

"Blitz!" bellowed Exile, clapping his hands for attention. "Is time to move-ski! Start rushin'!"

Blitz grumbled and got up. "Fine, fine, but I was looking at some beautiful babes."

He turned off the TV, but not before Exile saw that he was watching the swimsuit part of a beauty contest. The husky's jaw fairly hit the floor.

"Blitz, comrade! You cannot have them! They are human women, remember?"

"Yah," Blitz agreed with a smile that was practically a leer, "but I bet Colleen would look fantastic dressed like dat."

Exile folded his arms. "You dreaming, Weird Boy. What makes you think Colleen likes you?"

"Oh, she likes me," he boasted, flexing his biceps and flashing a toothy grin. "How could she not when I'm so massively perfect?"

If this was supposed to impress the husky, it didn't. "Comrade, most massive thing about you is ego. Colleen would not want someone like you."

"Oh yah?" snarled Blitz, getting up in Exile's face and prodding his chest with a finger. "And what makes you such an expert on dah ladies, huh?"

"She knocked you through wall last week when you stare at her too long. It does not take expert to know more than you."

Blitz growled. "Watch it, snowball, or I'll bite you."

"Hah!" scoffed Exile. "I have better chance with Colleen than you do."

"No you don't."

"Oh yes I do."

"No you don't."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

Blitz leaned forward until his nose was practically right up Exile's. "Listen, fluff, Colleen would nevah pick me ovah you in a hundred years."

Exile shrugged and turned to go. "Dokey-okey, comrade. Whatever you say-ski." He turned to leave, chuckling to himself, "And I thought trick only worked in cartoons."

Blitz barked out a laugh, folding his arms. "Ha! Guess I showed… HEY!"

Before Exile could even turn around the two of them were going at it hammer and tongs.

"Trick me, huh mistah funny man?"

"Is dog-man to you, Weird Boy!"

"Stop calling me dat or-"

"Hey, hey, whoa!" Hunter had doubled back to see what was keeping them, and quickly darted between the squabbling dogs. "Guys, what are you fighting over? The TV's not even on."

"He stahted it!" accused Blitz.

Exile shoved him off. "Some doggy-men can't take reality."

Hunter pushed both of them firmly apart. "Well whatever it was I'm sure there's a better answer than fighting about it. Now come on, it's chow time." Waving for them to follow, he headed off down the hall.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Blitz leaned in front of Exile as the husky moved to leave. "Okay, fluff-ball. Whoevah doesn't get her into a bathing suit first has to clean dah base for a month."

Exile brought a hand to his chin, thinking it over. "You try for that," he countered. "I think I ask her to dinner instead."

"Oh, going for the easy one?" Blitz scoffed.

"Well, if you are not confident-"

"Oh, I am totally competent," the Doberman cut him off. "Fine, I can get her to dah pool before you get her to dinner anyway. Whoevah doesn't date her first cleans dah base for two months."

A cool smile settled on Exile's muzzle. "Toilets too-ski?"

Blitz nodded and raised two fingers. "Oh yah, toilets double."

Exile scoffed. If Weird Boy can do it at all, I'll eat my toothbrush. "Is smartest and dumbest thing you say all week-ski. Deal."

They shook hands on the bet.

"I buy you new toilet brush when I'm finished," added the husky generously.

Oh boy. The contention between Blitz and Exile's normal, but what's going on with Hunter and Colleen, and what's the mission?

Thanks so much for all the interest in the first story, and a special thank-you to Elimmc on DeviantArt for providing the cover art for this fic. As you old fans know, this is going to be a revisited version of Episode 2 of the series, Storm From the Pacific. As with the first story, though, I've tried to change it up and throw in a few surprises – like what's going on with the original canine couple, Hunter and Colleen? Better hold onto your seats because, once again, it's time to hit the road, Rovers!

Also, please check out my just-finished Zootopia Christmas fic, "Santa Clawed," and the latest chapter of Zootopia Mystery "Something Stinks." You won't be disappointed. :)

Easter Eggs:

A popular 90s theme song

Looney Tunes