Prologue
If you're reading this, you were probably a fan of the old Road Rovers cartoons from the 90s and wish that it had continued. When we – that is, Omnitrix 12 and Rogue Rover – first began writing Road Rovers fan fiction, we both did so with that intent. However, it came up that a lot of people knew nothing about the original series, and that even its most ardent fans think it could have been better done. So we decided, instead, to go with a reboot. We have done our best to preserve the spirit of the original characters within reason, but changes have been made to them and the nature of the material in efforts to produce a more well-thought-out concept, deeper plots, and more interesting entertainment overall.
With that said, please read – and keep us in mind if you find someone who's out of the loop. If this doesn't exactly show Road Rovers as it was, perhaps it will show what it could have been.
Last but not least, if you really want a good mood for this chapter please feel free to put the Imperial March from Star Wars on a loop. Be Prepared and (of course) Legend of the Dog-Man also work well, but may be more distracting as they have lyrics. These songs and dramatization of Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven were used in writing and editing of this chapter.
Sunset fell over the sprawling New Mexican desert, casting long shadows from the tall cacti as a massive army truck thundered along the road towards a large compound outside the neighboring city of Socorro. The compound in question was Shepherd Laboratory, a once-auspicious facility dedicated to research and development of technologies to benefit the future of mankind.
In the back of the vehicle were two people: a black-haired woman dressed in military fatigues, and a man in a suit which bore clear signs of several days' wear.
"Are you certain that your partner will keep his end of the bargain?" the woman asked in a crisp Scottish accent. She had a hard, resolute face and sharp eyes that sparked with cold intelligence.
The man replied with a decisive nod and a slight tremble, stifling the shame of a murderer bound for trial. "Shepherd is a man of his word. He'll keep his part of the deal." He glanced down at a large pet carrier, where a dog's whimpering could be heard from within. "Especially when his prized possession is on the table."
At the guard house located on the north side of the Shepherd Laboratory compound, a security guard reclined in his chair flipping through a magazine, plainly unaware of the behemoth vehicle barreling toward the security gate. Moving with juggernaut-like certainty and unwavering smoothness, the truck broke through the gate, yanking the guard's attention from his reading and toward the commotion outside the small shack. Rattled to his core, he watched as the large vehicle stormed off deeper into the compound. Then he scrambled for the silent alarm button, smacked it, and stopped again, staring after the truck. I should do something, he thought with a pang of guilt sharp and cold as an icicle. His orders, however, had been clear about what to do if this happened. They had sounded so crazy he'd given them no weight, but they were clear. So, he deserted the booth and ran headlong towards a parking lot outside the compound, making for a brown unmarked jeep.
For a moment, he turned and looked back at his post and at the laboratory of the man he'd worked for years.
"Heaven help you, Professor," he uttered before getting into the jeep and making a hasty getaway.
Heedless of the guard's flight, the truck wove among the various buildings.
Inside the main research laboratory building was a large room cluttered with computers, diagrams, and laboratory equipment. Along one wall was a cork board that featured detailed technical drawings pertaining to Project 18: an endeavor which could have been the greatest step for mankind since the discovery of the smallpox vaccine. Also on the board were several pieces of paper with pictures of various dog breeds, and detailed notes about five in particular. In the back of the office was a large rectangular window that overlooked the main research lab on the lower level. Sitting in front of the window was a wooden desk, and sitting at the desk was a man with rapidly graying brown hair and eyes wide with sleepless fear. His lab coat was marked: Shepherd.
Working feverishly under a brow damp with cold sweat, Shepherd hunched over the keyboard to make his final alterations on a set of blueprints on the screen. He stopped typing for a brief moment before getting up from his seat. Stepping away from the desk and toward the window to look at the main research lab, he ran a weary hand through his hair as he contemplated the ordeal ahead.
It was Jeff's fault; Jeffery Otitus, his business partner. The man had made a Faustian deal to keep their project alive, and Professor Shepherd's worst fears had come calling with reinforcements. He had certainly realized what the technology might do if it fell into the wrong hands, and had taken every measure he could think of to stop it. Yet, he had never expected them to take his dog.
Despite his weariness, he shook his head and dropped back into the chair. He had to finish. He didn't trust Parvo to honor their deal, but he had no choice. He had to get Scout back, even if it meant risking the world.
But if I'm going to do this, I'm hedging my bets, he resolved. He continued to peck away at the keys, altering the plans. He had already sabotaged the machine; altered several formulae vital to its function and rearranged portions vital to the function of the whole. Maybe – maybe – he could make them of no use without Parvo's notice. He struggled to finish, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes.
Like the clanging of an alarm clock, an electronic buzz from the intercom on his desk jolted him upright. He looked at it half-stupidly for a moment, and then a cold dread swiftly warming to white-hot panic took hold of his chest.
"No!" he gasped in a terrified whisper as he looked at the clock on the wall. "No, no. It's too soon. I'm not done!"
Racing through a few final changes, he printed the documents. Please let it be enough, he thought in a silent prayer which seemed to strike a ceiling of brass and reverberate down to his fevered brain. Once all of the documents were printed, he shuffled them into the briefcase before rushing out of his office.
Clutching the briefcase close to his chest, Shepherd hurried down the stairs. The only thought in his mind at that moment was to get this ordeal done with and – God willing – get his dog back at last. Upon exiting the stairwell, he made his way toward the main research laboratory. Keeping close to the wall, he peered around the corner and watched as the A2 slowly backed into the loading dock to receive its waiting package. He held the briefcase tighter to his chest as the vehicle's engine died, signaling that he had reached the point of no return.
"William!"
Hearing the voice of his former partner, Shepherd closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the upcoming encounter. Releasing his breath, he walked out into the main research laboratory. The sight of the man he had so trusted awoke him, and somehow his system found enough adrenaline for a spike of anger.
"Where's Scout, Jeffery?" he demanded. His question was instantly answered by a dog's plaintive barking. It came from a carrier wheeled by a female figure descending from the vehicle. His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in bitterness when he saw her face.
I should have known, he thought. Yet he only had time for that one thought as the woman was followed by a much larger and more imposing personage.
"Good evening, professor," a large intimidating man greeted with a smirk as he climbed out of the front of the truck. He walked with a very slight limp from an old injury, but he exuded power and ruthlessness that could cow a man of twice his vitality. His face was as cold as ice and adorned with a yellow mustache. He stretched out a hand as if beckoning for some gift. "Where's the prototype?"
It was hard for anyone who really knew General Parvo to stand in his presence and not feel a shudder of dread and revulsion. It was like meeting Dracula; unimposing and even charming to a stranger, but the epitome of evil to the initiated. Willing his suddenly watery limbs to be firm, Shepherd gestured toward the tarp-covered object. "It's underneath that tarp, next to the forklift."
"Excellent," the general replied with a nod. He gestured to his cohorts. "Groomer. Ramirez. Load the prototype."
The woman and another man, who climbed down from the driver's side of the truck, saluted and made their way toward the location of the prototype. Ramirez climbed into the forklift and started it up as Groomer guided her partner into position.
It raised bile in Shepherd's mouth to give his work over to his man, but there was no turning back. "Alright Parvo, we had a deal," he demanded, pointing an accusing finger. "Now, give me back my dog."
Parvo chuckled at Shepherd's tenacity. "Certainly – just as soon as I get what I want." He relished the moment's hesitation on the scientist's face. A moment's hesitation, and the professor threw the case at Parvo's feet.
"You made a very wise decision, Shepherd," the man said as he bent down to retrieve the briefcase. "Project 18 will be in good hands and will be used to its utmost potential."
As a weapon of mass destruction, Shepherd thought with a shudder. He had meant the machine to heal the world, but with Parvo's intentions…with his intentions, he could conquer the planet in only a decade.
Groomer approached the general and saluted. "General Parvo, the prototype is loaded and safely secured on the vehicle."
Pleased with the successful transfer, Parvo drew a key from his packet for Shepherd to see and made to throw it but stopped. Using his other hand, he snapped his fingers. In an instant, Groomer and Ramirez drew guns and pointed them at Shepherd and Otitus.
"What?!" cried Jeffery, drawing back in fear. "Parvo! This wasn't part of the plan!"
"Hands up," Groomer snapped. "This minute, if you don't mind."
Shaking, Jeffery swallowed and raised his hands.
"Plans change, Jeffery," Parvo replied with a throaty chuckle before turning his attention to the professor. "I know your type, Shepherd. You would have altered the plans and the prototype ahead of our arrival, just to slow us down. While I do applaud your effort, you're coming with us to perfect Project 18." Then he turned to Otitus. "As for you, I'm very grateful for your help, of course, but…"
A human eye could scarcely track the blow as Parvo backhanded his lackey across the face, throwing him to the ground. "You served your purpose. Groomer, with me. Ramirez, take the mutt and the professor to the back and keep an eye on him."
"Yes sir!" Ramirez retrieved the dog carrier and kept his handgun pointed at Shepherd. "You've heard the general. Move it!"
Once Shepherd and Ramirez were on board the truck bed, Ramirez rapped the back window three times, signaling Groomer that everyone was on board and that they were ready to go. The massive engine roared to life and began to pull out of the main research laboratory.
On the floor of the lab, Otitus slowly rose with his nose running red and his ears ringing from the blow he had taken. General Parvo might have left active duty years ago, but a strike from him was like taking a cinderblock to the face.
As he staggered to his feet and braced himself on a table, Jeffery thought of the conversation he'd had with Professor Shepherd some months before.
"William, our money supply is running short," he informed his partner, pacing around Shepherd's office.
"I quite aware of the situation, Jeffery," Shepherd replied calmly as he took a sip of his coffee from his mug. It had been inevitable that the research would be controversial in the scientific community, and that animal rights advocates – whose intentions were better than their understanding – would make a fuss. Even some religious groups, which seldom got involved in military research, had started protests. Really, it was no surprise that their backers had dropped out, and he said as much to his partner.
Otitus spread his hands in supplication. "Then why, pray tell, would you even pursue Project 18 if this was bound to happen?" he asked, plainly at the end of his wits.
Professor Shepherd shook his head. He knew that Jeffery was a very practical man and would likely never understand his ideals. He tried to put it in business terms, hoping that would get the point across.
"Think about all of the unwanted dogs in the world," he ventured. "Dogs living in the streets, fighting over scraps, or waiting in pounds to be put to sleep." He reached down to scratch the head of his beloved Rottweiler. "They could be more, Jeffery; so much more. With this research, we can have better police dogs who could pick up scents and evidence and inform their partners directly. Service dogs could understand people's needs and meet them in ways never before imaginable. For thousands of years, man has relied continually on dogs for help, protection, and companionship – and with this technology, we could take it in a few years beyond all it's accomplished in those millennia."
"Sounds great," said the businessman doubtfully, "but it's not going to happen without cash. We both know that."
Shepherd sighed as he reclined in his office chair. "I'm afraid you're right about that. I was so certain this was the right choice, but with our backers withdrawing their support, I may have to re-think all of that."
Otitus coughed. "Well, there is another way to get the necessary funding."
Shepherd's pulse spiked. He knew what Otitus was getting at. "Absolutely not," he said, sitting straight in his chair and looking directly at his partner. "If we're going to get money, we need to do it ethically and legally."
Why didn't I listen? thought Otitus as he finally became master of his limbs again. He had gone behind the professor's back; betrayed him…and then been betrayed in turn. In the past few weeks of deception and double-dealing, he had felt indignation with his new boss for using him to manipulate the old, and with the professor for being such an idealistic fool. In that empty laboratory, a new feeling came over him: guilt. Shepherd had trusted him, and he had used and betrayed the man even as he himself was deceived. Now he had no partner, no money, and no golden future ahead.
That last was truer than he could have ever imagined.
As the M985 barreled down the road, Shepherd gazed anxiously out the back. Where are we-?
That was all he had time to think, for just then, an explosion erupted from what was now his former laboratory.
"What?!" he cried, gripping the truck's tailgate. He looked on in horror as blast after blast obliterated the building until it and even the ground under it collapsed in upon itself. All those years of research…gone, save for what was on that truck.
"A little cash goes a long way," Ramirez laughed at the distraught professor. Bribe a couple security guards to rig a building with explosive…easy peasy. Everyone'll think you did it to collect the insurance money…or, maybe, to get rid of your partner."
Claws of ice seemed to clamp around the scientist's heart. Jeffery had betrayed him, but… He shuddered and tried not to throw up.
Ramirez continued to laugh as Shepherd clasped at his scalp, lowering his head in utter dismay. From beside him, he heard his dog whimper from inside the carrier.
Scout, he thought, placing a hand on top of the carrier. The poor dog must be terrified.
"It's okay, boy," he whispered soothingly. "I'm right here."
His words didn't placate the dog. The whimpering continued, and Professor Shepherd turned hard eyes on the guard.
"Well, ain't that cute?" Ramirez taunted from his spot across from Shepherd. "Sorry to burst your bubble, professor, but your precious pooch was never in that carrier. It was just a recording."
That was all Shepherd needed to know. Lifting his feet, he thrust the dog carrier into the guard, startling him and making him drop his weapon. Then, grasping the tailgate of the truck, he vaulted over it and tumbled from the back of the moving vehicle.
"Hey!" shouted the guard, levelling his weapon.
Rolling on the dusty road for a moment, Professor Shepherd raced away from the truck as bullets sparked one after another off the pavement behind him. Ignoring bruises and cuts, he fled as one in a blind panic towards the only refuge in sight: a pile of rocks near the edge of a cliff.
"What the..!" Ramirez shouted as he retrieved his gun before spotting Shepherd running away from the truck. Banging on the window, he cried, "WE GOT A RUNNER!"
SCREE-EE-EEE!wailed the truck's tires as it came to a stop, flinging Ramirez against the vehicle.
Parvo popped his head out of the window. "Don't just lie there, you idiot! Shoot him!"
The solider was out in a moment, leaving his rifle behind and firing a pistol. His shots rained against stones as Professor Shepherd dove for the shelter. An instant later, a long and despairing cry rang out, echoing as its source plunged down the precipice.
"Blast!" cried Parvo as Ramirerz's voice crackled over the truck's radio.
"Sir, he's bought it now."
"I'm well aware of that, you idiot!" shouted the general, though as he was not pressing the button, the never reach its recipient.
"Now what, sir?" Groomer asked from within the cabin.
Parvo's open mouth issued a sound which was part sigh and part growl. "Knowing that he altered the blueprints and prototype, we at least have a starting point to continue his work – with your assistance, of course. Meanwhile, with him gone, there'll be no who could master the technology ahead of us…" He stopped for a minute to cough before continuing. "…and no one who could hope to counter us when the time comes to use it." He took the radio microphone off its hook. "In the meantime, better to tie up loose ends. Ramirez!" he ordered, squeezing the talk button, "Make sure he's out of the picture. Permanently!"
Ramirez, by this time, was standing at the edge of the cliff, leaning against one of the rocks and peering down at the crooked body of Professor Shepherd. With a sneer on his face, he pulled a grenade from his belt. "With pleasure, sir."
Extracting the ring, he dropped the explosive down after the body. Then, carelessly, he tossed the ring down behind it.
Not four feet away, on the opposite side of the same rock where Ramirez had braced himself, Shepherd winced at the explosion below. Moments later, he watched as the truck drove off with his research. Had the villains stayed to witness the debris, they would have wondered at the strange lack of blood amidst the mangled mannequin and destroyed speaker.
As the as the engine's rumble had faded into the distance, he reached into one pocked and withdrew his ID, tossing it over the cliff's edge to join his facsimile at the bottom. Reach into his other pocket, he pulled out a USB flash drive. Staring at it for a moment, he closed his fingers tightly around it before he ran off into the desert. The only things which saved him from total shock and despair were readiness, and the knowledge that if he didn't stay ready…then the world would pay the price.
It had begun.
And there you have it. Not the longest intro, it's true, but this was based on a two-minute scene from the original cartoon's first episode, "Hit The Road." You fans of the original will notice we spiced it up a little and filled a plot hole or two (the show eventually revealed how Shepherd knew he'd be betrayed, but never gave any indication of how he escaped/survived the destruction of his lab.
For those interested in particulars, the truck involved in this chapter is a Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck (HEMTT for short) M985 A2.
Also, special thanks to Rogue Rover for co-authoring, and to ArmedKevin117 and everyone on the Facebook group "Road Rovers Resurrection!" who offered helpful input to get this project started. Pats on the back all around.
Thank you for reading, and please feel free to Review, Follow, and Favorite.