This one-shot was originally written as a prologue for a historical fic about RJ's past entitled 'Rowan Jackson' in which it was explained that his parents had been killed by a severe case of 'road-pizza' syndrome and the only reason he had survived was because Vincent had adopted him under the reasoning that he would have to serve the bear by collecting the annual winter stockpile for him when Vincent deemed the raccoon old enough. Of course since I am unbelievably lazy and tend to over think things a little too much I decided that a slightly less angsty childhood would better befit that smart-ass raccoon and that the hot tomboy opossum friend who appeared later on was just a proxy for Heather; ergo I dropped the whole thing and went back to my thinking desk to find out if I could come up with a funny history which I could just incorporate into the main story that I had actually been trying to avoid, procrastinating little bastard that I am. So two months later and five thousand words into the still unfinished first chapter of my major OTH project I have decided to release this as a little appetizer. ENJOY!
Vincent
With little more warning than the preceding rumbling of a distant motor vehicle the high pitched screech of tires on bitumen echoed into night, shattering the prior peace and quite of the hot and sticky summer evening. The sickening combination of a thud and crunching which rapidly accompanied the screeches only serving to further shatter the tranquility.
About twenty feet above, in small, dank cave in the cliff side overhanging the highway, Vincent's eyes flicked open. Outside he could hear the low thuds of doors slamming, car doors to be precise; this bear had been around humans far too long not recognize that sound along with the stench of burning rubber and the variable hum of human voices as they began to chatter incoherently to one another.
"Just what I need," he grumbled sleepily in his deep and gravely, bear voice, "Can't a bear get himself some sleep around here."
With a low rumbling yawn, which sounded more along the lines of an angered growl than an expression of fatigue, Vincent got up, slowly bringing his massive body to full height; almost eight feet of three inch dark-brown fur over a hulking seven-hundred pound mass of fat and muscle.
"Honestly," Vincent began, his footsteps thudding loudly against the warm stone floor as he made his way to mouth of his cave, "Possums, dogs, cats; the kinda' fuss those humans make over it all you'd think they'd run over their own mother."
As he reached the cave mouth, Vincent took a step out into the warm, humid night air and looked down the rugged crag towards the highway below. The scene he now beheld was just as he had suspected. A bit off to his left a large black SUV was stopped at the edge of the northbound lane with its headlights sending two wide beams of yellow-white light a fair distance further along the road. From the low rumble which met his ears, Vincent could only assume the engine was probably still running and that meant the humans couldn't be far off.
Sure enough it didn't take him long to spot them standing in the middle of the road a few feet behind the 4x4, just beyond the ominous red glow of the brake lights and practically invisible against the blazing glare of the headlights. No wonder he hadn't seen them straightaway.
As far as Vincent could tell there were three, maybe four of them lingering in a small circle and at least one of them appeared to be kneeling over something.
"Hrmph, road kill," the bear grumbled, "I thought so."
Barely a minute passed before the humans began walking back toward the SUV chattering excitably to one another but still too distant for Vincent to make out what was being said. Not that he really cared as he stood and watched them all pile into the vehicle, the doors thudding shut in quick succession before it rolled forward back onto the road and drove off into the night.
With an irritated growl Vincent turned back toward the cave and took a step inside before he paused to think. The night was pretty warm outside and he was now very much wide awake thanks to those humans and whatever slow animal had just met its maker by their hands, or more correctly their fender. The last few days had presented fairly slim pickings for him and it probably wouldn't hurt to investigate, especially when there was a chance of meat on the menu, however small the portions may be.
Short eh? Well it was supposed to be longer but to be honest with the knowledge that I will never ever actually write the story for which it was intended, finishing the damn thing just seemed so utterly pointless. FYI I'm still using the name Rowan Jackson so if you decide to use this piece as a free idea bucket than I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to step outside.
