Half-Breed

Chapter 9: Changes and Decisions

By Emilou

"No!" Parvo shouted, pounding his mechanical arm against the console board.

The Groomer flinches. She saw yet another dent in the metal. If he kept taking his frustration out on the equipment, they would have to replace the whole computer. And by they, it most likely would be her.

"No, no, no, nooooo!" Parvo yelled, each syllable coming out louder than the last, followed by another punch to the console board. Sparks fizzle for a second, but the computer still worked. In his excitement, he coughed violently.

"Easy, General," the Groomer soothes, handing over the special medicine she kept in times such as these. Usually she would hand him a lozenge, but after finding out about his "condition", she had switched to a pill that helped Parvo pass his hairballs.

Parvo growled, rubbing his forehead with his organic hand. "Even with the element of surprise, my cano-mutants cannot defeat the Road Rovers. What use are they?"

"But the battle is not over yet. They may win," the Groomer said optimistically.

"It already is," Parvo sighed, leaning back in his chair. He pressed a button, changing cameras. "Look. These cano-mutants have already given up. They're just standing here, not doing anything."

"But that can't be possible," the Groomer said, shaking her head. "You've trained them to never stop fighting. What is wrong with them?"

"I don't know. I've commanded them to keep fighting, but they aren't listening," Parvo grumbled. "It's as if they are in a trance."

At that time, a beeping sounded in the background.

"Will you get that, Groomer? I want to watch this until the end," Parvo requested, his tone sounding like he was doing an odious task; his eyes glued to the screen as he switched to several different cameras.

The Groomer obliged, heading to the communication console in a different part of the compound. She wanted to watch the rest of the battle as well, but she was used to being sent off to other tasks. Although her job as General Parvo's second-in-command was sometimes a thankless position, she stuck with it out of loyalty to Parvo. Loyalty and a bit more than that.

The communication console was a hodge-podge of equipment. Part ham radio, part cellular phone, part video chat, part CIA software with wi-fi access all hot-wired together in an amateurish but functional way. It allowed Parvo to communicate through several different lines as well as spy on government agents in the area. Yet with all the hacking and equipment he had paid for, they had yet to find a way to spy on the Road Rovers' private channels.

Putting a large set of headphones on, the Groomer turned on the communication console, seeing that a signal was coming through a cellular phone somewhere in Ft. Lauderdale. As she spoke to the caller, she grabbed a pad of paper and pen, writing down information frantically. The call was short and ended once the information had been received by the Irish woman.

"General, you won't believe. . .," she started to say, but was interrupted by Parvo's excited breath.

"Look at this," Parvo shouted, more of an order than a request. He didn't wait for the Groomer to be by his side before he was rewinding and replaying a recording of the fight that his cameras caught.

The Groomer rushed to the general's side, watching the black and white footage of a cano-mutant sneaking up to attack one of the Road Rovers, the one that was named Exile. The cano-mutant held a large cage above his head to attack the husky. The monster dog threw the metal box and, defying all logic, stopped in mid-air. The cano-mutant stared at the cage, tipping his head in a gesture of confusion.

Exile finally spotted the cano-mutant, punched the creature until it fell unconscious then ran off screen. A few seconds later, the cage crashed to the floor.

"What was that?" the Groomer asked incredulously. "That box. . .it just. . ."

"Psychic powers," Parvo said, his voice as smooth as cream.

"What? No, that can't be," Groomer said.

On another screen, she brought up their records of all known Road Rovers. Ever since the beginning of their war against Shepherd and his mutated heroes, they kept stats on each Road Rover. As far as they knew, no Road Rover had psychic powers. In fact, they had theorized that it was impossible for a mutated dog to gain supernatural mental abilities. Each dog's powers often reflected on the individual dog's breed or personality, but stayed within the physical power spectrum. Dogs tended to be more physically inclined, which kept the Road Rover's super powers limited to a certain type.

Did Shepherd finally create a Road Rover with mental powers?

"Which Road Rover did it?" Groomer asked, looking worried. After all, their cano-mutants had no other powers besides larger stature and super strength, which made them somewhat of a match to the Road Rovers. If their enemy had more supernatural powers on their side, the balance of power would tip in Shepherd's favor.

"If I'm right, it isn't a Road Rover," Parvo said, looking smug.

After shifting through different cameras, he found the exact angle he was looking for. He played back the footage from the beginning of the fight, watching as Blitz pulled aside two female cano-sapiens to hide behind some crates before rushing off to fight. A few minutes later, a female rottweiler abandoned the safety of the crates to join the others. A few minutes later, the second female stood up and watched the fight.

"I don't. . .recognize her," the Groomer noted, riffling through the files of known Road Rovers. "She must be new."

"Look closer at her. Doesn't she look familiar?" Parvo asked, grinning as he caught something his assistant didn't.

Before the Groomer could say anything more, the footage showed the female being attacked by a cano-mutant. But the attack didn't last long. At the last minute, the cano-mutant lowered his gun and backed away. The female cano-sapien spoke and gestured to the cano-mutant as if directing it away from her.

"She can control them," Parvo whispered in awe.

"That group of cano-mutants from before. They weren't moving. It was because of her," the Groomer recalled. "If she is the one who held up that crate, that means she is telekinetic as well as a mind-controller. Fascinating."

"And very valuable," Parvo purred. "More valuable than any of the Road Rovers. I must have her back."

"Back? What do you mean? We've never tried capturing the Road Rovers to use them," the Groomer said, sounding irritated. "They're dogs. They're going to be loyal to Shepherd, no matter what we do. It'll be a waste of time."

"But that isn't a Road Rover," Parvo said, pausing the video footage and getting a close-up of the cano-sapien. "Look at her. She isn't dressed in their armor. Do you not recognize her?"

The Groomer's irritated grew more intense. She was tired from running all around the city, picking up supplies and the cano-mutants that flew in from DC, as well as performing every task Parvo yelled at her. She felt unappreciated and exhausted since she hadn't had a moment's peace since they crash-landed in Guatemala. She was not in the mood to play one of Parvo's games.

"No. I don't even recognize her breed. She's a mutt," the Groomer noticed, looking disgusted.

"That looks remarkably like Dr. Saraaf's pet," Parvo said, his eyes sparkling as he gave his assistant that hint.

"I guess," the Groomer shrugged. But then she took a closer look. "Yes, almost exactly. You don't think that Shepherd found Saraaf's dog from the crash and transformed her. That dog's DNA had already been experimented on. If it was put in the transdogmafier, it could be one of the most powerful cano-sapiens ever."

"Yes, that might be. But that's not it. That dog was male," Parvo insisted.

The Groomer frowned. "Then that's not Saraaf's dog. Then who is it?"

"The girl from Saraaf's experiment," Parvo informed the Groomer.

"What? No, that can't be. I gave Saraaf a DNA sample of one of our mutants, a bulldog," the Groomer recalled. Her frown deepened as she searched her memories. In the chaos of fighting the Road Rovers and their ship crashing, she had not seen the girl after the transformation.

"The good doctor didn't trust us," Parvo hypothesized. "He might not have used our sample, but one from his dog."

The Groomer nodded. "I didn't keep an eye on him because that was when the Road Rovers boarded our ship. It's possible."

"It's not only possible, but I'd say it's true," Parvo declared, tapping the computer screen. "This cano-sapien is Dr. Saraaf's experiment. She already displayed psychic powers before being changed. The transformation most likely enhanced her abilities, giving her telekinetic powers as well."

The more Parvo spoke, the more the Groomer was sure her male companion was correct. Not only did they have confirmation that Dr. Saraaf's experiment had succeeded, but it turned out better than they expected. Now if only they could find the scientist and get him to repeat the experiment.

"I want her. She could be very useful," Parvo said hungrily as he pressed play once more, watching the female cano-sapien work her powers on the cano-mutants.

Although she knew Parvo meant it in a different context, the Groomer felt slightly jealous. The general didn't speak about her or look at her in that way, desiring her. She wished he would. But she put her feelings aside as she remembered the information she had written down from the phone call.

"General, I might have some good news for you," she said, feeling Parvo's attention shift to her. She felt a tingle go down her spine as his eyes locked onto her.

"What is it?" Parvo asked, looking as if he didn't believe his second-in-command. After all, their luck hadn't been so good recently.

"Well, I may not be able to get that new cano-sapien for you, but I have something just as good," the Groomer purred, stretching out her moment to tantalize the general.

Normally, Parvo would humor the Groomer. He liked hearing her talk; her accent and tone was seductive, which she reserved only for him. But he was not in the mood for her flirtatious mood. "Get on with it," he growled.

"Oh, well, the call. . . The man on the other line has been in contact with an exotic animal dealer," the Groomer said quickly, put off by the general's terseness. "He says that he sold a lot of animals to a man meeting Dr. Saraaf's description in Ft. Lauderdale."

A gleam sparkled in Parvo's eye at that news. "So, the doctor is in Florida. What information did he have?"

"He had an address as well as a list of animals that Saraaf purchased," the Groomer said, handing over the information she had written down. "Of course, your informant wanted payment. I've already sent it over."

Parvo perused the information. It would take them a couple of hours to drive there. Then he looked down the list of animals that Saraaf bought. He grinned, seeing that all of them were wild beasts, within the canidae family or close to it. If the professor was as successful as he was with Mira, Parvo may be able to commandeer a new style of army recruits by the day's end.

"Pack up the cano-mutants," Parvo ordered the Groomer. "And prepare another truck. We're going to need the space."


Within the abandoned warehouse, Dr. Saraaf concentrated on the mechanical parts spread across his second work table. He was so focused on his scribbled blueprints and newest prototype that he barely registered the wild animal sounds on the other side of the warehouse. His latest experiments on the animals weren't forgotten but slipped to the back of his mind. The problem of transforming one of them into an anthropomorphic being with higher intelligence was placed on the proverbial back burner as he fidgeted with the device that he hoped would save his life in the future.

His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and working with limited light, but he was caught in an inventor's mania. It had been a week since he had taken his medication, which fed his paranoia and need to experiment. He was aware of this but ignored his situation. He had been captured, forced to experiment on a young woman, lost his dog, lived through a plane crash and fled from his captors for several days, which alone was traumatizing enough, but his mind continued to push him into continue his work. Even if it discarded his morals.

Which is what he had done. First to the young woman on Parvo's ship, then to the coyotes. Three of the canine bodies lay in a heap in the darkest corner, hidden from view. They were the unlucky ones; others had survived Saraaf's experiments with only a bit of sickness. All were failed experiments.

Even as he worked on his device, Saraaf itched to return to the wild beasts pacing their cages, wanting to duplicate the success he had with the transformed young woman. But after a dozen attempts, the professor had to force himself to stop. Nothing was working. Only an insane man would continue, knowing the results were the same.

What went wrong with these experiments? Was it because they were wild beasts? Or because they weren't human? What if he just. . .

As Saraaf tightened a few screws, he shook his head. That couldn't be the reason. He refused to believe that. He was determined to never experiment on a human again. He regretted that decision, despite reveling in the success of using the young woman.

As he spliced wires together, he went through the experiment again. He could see it all in his mind. He prepared the young woman, strapping her to the table. He gave her medication for pain management, which he gave to all the coyotes as well. He even tried the same experiment without the pain killers, but only once. That one had died.

He went over the serum's chemical composition, sure that he had duplicated it exactly as before. The last ingredient had been Dash's blood, the only difference between the young woman and the coyotes. But blood was blood, whether it be Dr. Saraaf's or Hunter's, the cano-sapien he had stolen a sample from days ago. But both had resulted in failed results.

As Dr. Saraaf snapped a button panel onto his newest prototype and finished the device, a bulb popped on in his mind. Of course, why didn't he see it before?

Not all blood was just blood. Dash's was special. For several years, Dash had been the primary subject in a series of experiments to mesh his DNA with that of a human's, expanding his intelligence and life span. Dr. Saraaf had used a mixture of chemicals as well as radiation to treat Dash's blood and caused the changes to his DNA

The reason the experiments on the coyotes weren't working was because Dr. Saraaf wasn't treating the blood before adding it to the serum. Despite Dash's blood being subjected to years of work, Dr. Saraaf was sure that he could duplicate the process within a matter of hours. He had all the chemicals he needed as well as the equipment to synthesize the radiation. It should work.

Feeling charged and renewed with his new hypothesis, Dr. Saraaf managed not to race back to his other work station. Instead, he forced himself to look over his newly invented device, seeing that everything looked sound. Unfortunately, he didn't have a way of testing to see if it worked, but he was confident that it would protect him against Parvo's monsters if they ever showed up.

Once the device had been thoroughly checked, Dr. Saraaf returned to the other workspace. He quickly checked all his supplies, seeing that he had several vials filled with the serum needed for the transformation. It just needed blood added to it before injecting it into a test subject.

A tiny refrigerator took up one corner of the workspace. Saraaf opened it, revealing several vials of blood on the two shelves within the refrigerator. The top shelf contained only five vials of blood; these held what was left of Hunter's blood, which was a few days old. The bottom shelf held more vials of blood, these harvested from Saraaf's own veins. Knowing he had a limited supply of the Road Rover's blood and unsure how it would react to the radiation and chemicals, Saraaf chose his own blood for the next experiment.

Taking out the rubber stopper off the vial, Saraaf placed it on the centrifuge and added the chemicals needed for the change. He turned on the centrifuge for the blood and chemicals to mix together evenly, then turned his attention to a device much like a microwave. In fact, it had been a microwave at one point, but with a little tweaking by the professor and now it produced stronger and deadlier radiation than the waves that merely cooked food. It produced a mixture of strong UV rays and light gamma radiation, both of which were needed for the chemicals to bond with the blood to change the DNA.

After fifteen minutes on the centrifuge, Saraaf took the mixed blood and placed it in the altered microwave. The blood needed to be exposed to radiation for half an hour at least to be effective. As the microwave ran, spinning the vial of blood on the rotating plate, the professor started preparing his next test subject.

The coyote cage contained five coyotes, minus the three that died previously. All had been used in previous experiments, the smell of vomit still lingering in their cages. Saraaf didn't want to use any of them in case they were too weak to survive a second round. Instead, he looked over the other animals he had bought from the exotic animal dealer.

In smaller cages, several foxes stared at him, curled up and tense in case he opened their door. All were different breeds, and a mixture of beautiful colors. The scientist was loathe to use any of them this early in his experimenting. Perhaps he couldn't stand the thought of accidentally killing such beautiful animals or perhaps because the foxes were closer in size to Dash. Either way, he passed them by. He also passed by the jackal, African wild dog and the dingo, although he lingered at the dingo. Out of all the beasts, the dingo was the only one who wagged its tail at Saraaf, acting like a domesticated dog rather than a wild animal. Saraaf wondered if the dingo had been tamed and treated like a pet. If that was so, the dingo would make a more willing subject. But still, the professor passed up the dingo.

He moved on to the hyena, which paced hunch-like in its cage. He disliked looking at the ugly creature and considered using it in his next experiment. There would be no love lost if the creature died, less than any of the others. As Saraaf considered this, he looked closer at the hyena. It was larger than any of the other animals, with powerful jaws, sharp teeth and strong limbs. He shivered at the thought of touching the animal. Anesthetics on animals were often unpredictable, especially if the exact weight is unknown. Even dosed with the proper amount, the hyena could wake up half-way through the experiment. He moved on.

The last set of cages contained the wolves, all separated except for two, a pair of timber wolves. One was the usual white and mottled gray coloring, the other was black. The black one looked larger than the gray, and Saraaf figured they were a male and female pair. Thinking that it would be too much a hassle to anesthetize both wolves just to get one out, Saraaf was about to pass the timber wolves up.

But then he took a closer look at the female. Even though she cowered behind the male, she couldn't hide how one of her eyes was filmed over, almost entirely white.

Not wanting the wolf to suffer, Saraaf decided to take the female out and put her on the examination table to see if she had a cataract or an eye infection. He hadn't decided to use her in the experiment, but just wanted to look at her eye, treat her and determine if she had any other medical issues.

But before he could do any of that, he had to sedate the male, whose striking blue eyes never veered away from Saraaf's. The wolf's posture spoke of aggression and violence.

Unlike with the coyotes, who were sedated with a syringe on the end of a pole, Saraaf decided to use a dart gun. He hadn't used it earlier because the darts were expensive, and he had spent most of his money on science equipment. There were only a handful of darts that could be used. One had to be reserved for the hyena, and one must be used for the male timber wolf.

Even though he had no experience with guns, it didn't take a lot of skill to hit the wolf at the short range. The dart stuck into the black wolf's hind quarters. But unlike most animals, the wolf didn't turn to see what had stung him. Instead, he kept staring and baring his teeth at the professor, as if he hadn't even felt the dart.

For a minute, Saraaf worried that he had missed, that somehow the dart didn't make it into the skin. But soon, the male wolf started to wobble on his feet. His snarling expression lessened, and his eyes drooped. Within five minutes, the wolf lay on his side, eyes opening for seconds before fluttering closed, struggling to stay awake.

At this time, the scientist used the pole-syringe to sedate the female, who remained at the black wolf's side. When both were on the ground, Saraaf opened the cage and carried out the female. He locked the cage right as he left, not wanting to risk the male wakening prematurely. From there, he put the female on the exam table, muzzling and restraining her.

Just as he did with the coyotes before their experiments, Saraaf gave the female wolf a thorough checkup, making sure she was healthy. He guessed at her weight, checked to see if she was malnourished or unhealthy in any way. Like the coyotes, she was in perfect health, save for some fleas and her eye. On closer inspection, the eye was not as bad as Saraaf initially thought. The milky whiteness of the eye was from a previous injury or birth defect, blinding the wolf in that eye. There was nothing more Saraaf could do for her, but with how healthy she was, there was no reason not to use her in the experiment.

He shaved the female wolf's leg to prepare to place an IV. He rushed this process, not only because it was so familiar to him, but because he hoped to inject the serum before the sedative wore off. The changes wouldn't be pleasant.

Once the wolf had been prepped, he turned to the vial of blood in the altered microwave, seeing that the session of intense radiation was over. He put on heavy gloves to remove the vial, taking it over to the microscope. Before injecting it into the wolf, he wanted to make sure the radiation hadn't destroyed the healthy blood cells, otherwise the experiment had failed before it even began. Under the microscope, Saraaf saw that the blood cells weren't just healthy, but active as it had bonded with the chemicals.

With that reassurance, Saraaf added the blood to the serum, letting the centrifuge mix the two together for ten more minutes. As he waited, he could hear the male wolf stirring in his cage, growling maliciously while still on the floor. If the male was coming to, the female wouldn't be far behind him. The scientist had to hurry.

Once the centrifuge cycle was over, he filled a clean syringe with the serum, then injected it into the female wolf's IV. Standing back, Saraaf waited for whatever would happen once the serum bonded with the wolf's DNA.

At first, the female wolf remained still, almost too still. She stopped breathing for a moment, either because she held her breath or it was too shallow to monitor. But then she started breathing hard, whimpering and clawing at the air. Her muscles trembled, as if going into a seizure, foam starting to form at her mouth.

Hearing his companion's pain, the male wolf rose to his feet, barking and growling as he wobbled as close as he could to the female. He pressed his face against the metal bars, his snarling maw extending pass the cage.

Saraaf only gave the male a glance before turning his attention back to the female, who was writhing in what appeared to be pain. And that was when the changes started to happen.

It began in her paws; the individual claws becoming fingers and toes. The legs stretched out, adding flesh in some places, shortening bone in others. The wolf gave out a painful howl as her body changed drastically, her spine stretching, hips widening, and the shoulders moving upward. As the last of the changes happened, the wolf's howl morphed into that of a cry.

The now human-shaped wolf gasped and heaved, the changes making her go into shock. Her dark eyes stared as if looking at the world anew with more comprehension, yet with less knowing. Finally, she shivered violently before collapsing from exhaustion, falling unconscious.

At first, Saraaf didn't move. The change happened in the same time frame as before, but it was so different this way around. The wolf's change was much more drastic than the young woman's, but fascinating all around.

Jarred from the surreal experience of seeing the change, Saraaf didn't know what to do with his body. He gasped much how the female wolf did, then laughed almost unconsciously. Once he was in control of himself, he went down to business. After all, there was still work needing to be done; no time to celebrate this success.

He hesitated for a moment before he touch the morphed wolf. He did a quick exam, checking her heart rate, temperature, and blood pressure. All were on the high side of what was normal for humans, but that was understandable considering what she had been through. Seeing that his test subject had survived the experiment and was still healthy, Saraaf concluded that she would survive and recover quickly. He only wished that she was conscious so he could test to see if she was intelligent.

But that would wait until after she rested. He took of the restraints and removed the IV from her arm. Wrapping her up in a blanket, he took her to an empty cage right next to the black timber wolf, settling her on the floor carefully. Knowing that when she awoke, she would be hungry and thirsty, he opened a water bottle and a packet of beef jerky, setting them inside the cage near her head. He didn't even consider that he was treating her differently now that her body was more human; it just seemed right.

The male timber wolf continued to snarl and growl at Saraaf's proximity, always keeping on his guard. But once the scientist left the cages, the wolf calmed down, relaxing his posture. He went to the bars closest to the transformed wolf, poking his nose as close as he could to sniff his companion. After a while, he lay down with his head pressed against the bars.

But this Saraaf didn't even notice. High on his success, he wanted to press on despite his own fatigue. Immediately he began preparing the rest of his blood left in the refrigerator. After all, one successful test subject didn't mean anything. Being the scientist that he was, he needed to duplicate the same experiment several times to be sure it was a success.

As the vials of blood spun on the centrifuge, preparing to be radiated, Saraaf scanned the cages, determining which of the animals would be next on the table.


A combination of pain, sadness and fear jolted Mira awake, her body springing to a sitting position. She breathed heavily as her brain tried to recall her last memories, sifting between the dream and reality.

"It's okay, Mira. You're safe," a calm voice said. A hand touched her shoulder. "You should lay back down. You've been through a lot."

Mira turned her head, seeing a rottweiler talking to her. Her mind reminded her that she was a morphed dog-person surrounded by dog-people. Despite living with the Road Rovers for almost a week, the truth kept surprising her upon waking. If she wasn't in front of a mirror, she still thought of herself as human.

"Gretta," Mira rasped, her mouth dry. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you would tell me," Gretta said, her eyes inquiring.

Mind still hazy, Mira rubbed her forehead where it ached. "We were helping the dogs at the compound, but then. . .there were those monster dogs. A lot of them."

"Yes, the ambush," Gretta prodded.

"We hid behind some boxes. . .but then you left," Mira continued, sounding more certain with each word. "And. . .I wanted to help. . . so I. . ." She gasped, then fell silent, eyes widening as her memories returned.

"So you did what?" Gretta asked, her voice insistent. When Mira didn't answer, she urged with an encouraging tone. "Mira, you're not in trouble, but we do need answers. Some things happened in that warehouse that cannot be explained, except perhaps by you."

"Is everyone alright?" Mira asked, hoping to distract Gretta by changing the subject. "And the dogs? Where are they?"

Looking disappointed, Gretta answered, "The dogs were dropped off only a few minutes ago. We're heading back to HQ."

Mira felt disappointed about that. She wanted to help the dogs get settled in their new home, hopefully help with the transition.

"As for the team, there's a few scraps and bruises, but luckily nobody was seriously injured. Except for you. When Blitz called me over, I found you on the ground, nose bleeding and unresponsive. Yet your eyes were still open, and you were muttering something under your breath. Not far from where you lay, a dozen cano-mutants stood completely still." She didn't say anything more, but her expression demanded answers.

Mira sunk down into herself, her shoulders raised to protect. For the first time, she felt her ears lower, using muscles she wasn't used to. Once again, she found herself in a situation where she would be forced to divulge one of her secrets.

Mira bit her lip, preparing her words. Before she could, Blitz and Exile burst in, although the husky hung back as the doberman rushed to her side.

"Are you okay, Mira?" Blitz asked, grabbing her hand to comfort her.

"I have a giant headache, but I seem to be in one piece," Mira said, giving him a weak smile, grateful for his interruption of Gretta's questions.

"Thank goodness," Blitz sighed. "After all, you are my responsibility. It's my fault that you were hurt. I should have stayed near you and protected you."

"I'm fine," Mira said, patting the doberman's head, then scratching his ears as he leaned forward. "You did nothing wrong." Looking over Blitz's head, she caught Exile's gaze. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, ja. I'm totally great. Those ugly cano-mutants couldn't lay a hand on me. I was biting tooshies left and right," Blitz bragged, flexing his biceps to prove how strong he was.

Mira smiled at the doberman, but her eyes stayed with the husky. It wasn't until he nodded that she relaxed. She may be mad at Exile, but that didn't mean she didn't care for him. Her last memory was seeing a cano-mutant throw a metal cage at him. She had wanted to stop that from happening, and then something weird happened. Mira wished that she could talk to Exile alone, to verify if her memories were the real deal.

But that wasn't going to happen with Gretta there. By the rottweiler's face, Blitz and Exile's presence wasn't going to hinder her investigation.

"Gretta, before I explain, I need to know. Did everyone see what happened?" Mira asked timidly.

Giving her a confused look, Gretta glanced at the two males in the room. "No, just me, Blitz and Exile. Blitz tied up the cano-mutants before anyone else noticed."

Mira nodded, glad that her secret could be kept to an exclusive few.

"If you want, we can talk alone," Gretta offered, again looking at Blitz and Exile.

"No, they're okay. In fact, they already know. Well, most of it anyway," Mira admitted.

Gretta raised an eyebrow at that, but then gestured for Mira to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Mira began by telling the rottweiler about her history as a dog whisperer, how it was a natural gift since as far back as she could remember. She didn't give many details, except how it helped her in her job at Petsmart and training dogs for a living.

"Did you notice anything different when you were transformed?" Gretta asked, her body leaning toward Mira.

"Not at first," Mira said. "I felt pretty much the same as before, but the thoughts I heard were more clear and wordy. Before, all I could 'hear' from dogs were emotions, images and maybe a word or two."

"Most likely that's because the Road Rovers' thoughts are more complicated than the average house dog," Gretta said with a smile.

"That's what I thought as well. And always before, I had to consciously try to read a dog's mind. But now, thoughts come without any effort. Sometimes unwanted," Mira said, casting her eyes downward so she wouldn't have to look at Blitz or Exile. She had heard thoughts from them, thoughts that should have been private. She was even hearing smatterings of their thoughts now, although she ignored the psychic waves.

Gretta's eyes widened at that.

Can you hear my thoughts?

The mental thought came to Mira crisp and clear, as if Gretta intentionally sent it to her.

"Yes," Mira said, squirming under the attention.

"Fascinating. Can you send thoughts?" Gretta asked, looking excited.

"Yeah."

"Send me something."

Mira hesitated. She felt uncomfortable with so many questions and demands. The other Road Rovers didn't interrogate her this much.

Can you hear me? Mira sent to Gretta.

Fascinating, Gretta thought back, looking pleased with the experiment. Are my thoughts clearer than the others' because I'm directing them to you?

"Yeah, much more clear," Mira said, switching to speech. She disliked talking to Gretta through her mind.

"Anything else new, before what happened in the warehouse?" Gretta asked.

Mira recounted the incidents that happened at Road Rover's headquarters: the beakers breaking in the lab, the time she saw into Muzzle's thoughts, moving Hunter's stereo, and, lastly, breaking all the glass in the training room.

Gretta soaked all this information in, her face sincerely interested in the information. Only the mention of Muzzle did her expression turn slightly negative.

"Amazing," the rottweiler expressed, a wide grin on her face. "It seems that the transformation has evolved your natural powers into something more, making you telekinetic as well as a stronger psychic."

"Only a dog psychic," Mira said with a shrug. "I tried reading Shepherd's mind but got nada."

Gretta's eyebrows turned down. "Really? Maybe that will change. After all, it seems like you have some new powers after tonight."

Mira bit her lower lip, feeling her sharper teeth against the flesh. "I don't think so. I did nothing new at the warehouse."

Blitz, Exile and Gretta looked dumbfounded.

"But you made those cano-mutants stop in their tracks. Obviously you have some sort of power over them," Gretta spoke with definite authority.

"No, I just spoke to them with my mind. I commanded them just as I would a regular dog," Mira said, looking worried.

"That can't be. They only follow General Parvo's commands. You had to be doing something different."

Mira felt her headache worsen, the stress of revealing her secret making it worse. "I just sent them commands psychically. That's all. Somehow I knew that if I did, those monsters would obey," she said quickly, hoping that Gretta would drop this line of questioning.

"You didn't speak the commands?" Gretta asked.

"No."

"Then it could be a new power," Gretta mulled. "One that allows you to control another's mind with hypnotic suggestion. Would you try it out on me?"

This last sentence surprised Mira so much, she forgot about her aches and pains. "What? You want me to try to control you?"

"I trust you won't make me do anything stupid or evil," Gretta said, her smile showing she was joking. "Just an experiment. Please?"

"Now?" Mira asked, realizing her voice was starting to contain a whining element to it. "Can we do this later?"

"It would be better to do it now while your memory of the fight is still fresh," Gretta spoke with authority.

Mira relented, too tired to argue further. "Fine. Should I start now?"

"Whenever you are ready."

Sitting up straighter, Mira focused all her attention on the rottweiler, sending a commanding psychic message.

Dance. Gretta, start dancing.

The cano-sapien remained in her chair.

Taking a deep breath, Mira tried again, pretending that she was back in the warehouse, surrounded by enemies. She felt an urgent need to control Gretta.

You need to get up and dance, Gretta.

Still nothing.

"I can 'hear' your commands, but I really don't feel the need to obey," Gretta said, looking both disappointed and relieved by the outcome.

"See. No new powers," Mira said, holding up her hands to show how empty they were.

"It appears you were correct," Gretta said with a nod. "But that still doesn't explain how you were able to control the cano-mutants."

Exile spoke up for the first time. "Perhaps she can only control Parvo's cano-mutants."

Gretta's eyes lit up at that suggestion. "Yes, that might be it. After all, Parvo's canomutator has a different design than the Master's transdogmafier. Perhaps Parvo uses some sort of brainwashing agent on the dogs before they are mutated, causing them to be susceptible to his commands. And when Mira uses her psychic powers, she is able to command them much like Parvo does. This is great."

"How is it great?" Blitz asked, looking confused with Gretta's explanation.

"It means there may be a way for us to wrestle Parvo's control of his cano-mutants away from him," Gretta said, her words coming out faster in her excitement. "It would be a great advantage for us in battle to take away his forces. All it will take is studying Mira's psychic powers for a while, perhaps mimicking her thoughts with high frequency sound waves. The Master will be pleased with this discovery."

"No!" Mira shouted, feeling fearful of Shepherd finding out her secret. Without trying to, her psychic powers caused the bed she sat on to move a little. "Gretta, you promised to keep my secret."

The rottweiler blinked. "But Mira, this could help us capture Parvo. He's a very dangerous man, a terrorist. Isn't helping to take him down more important than keeping your secret?"

Mira pursed her lips together, not wanting to say anything. After all, she wasn't the bad guy here. She wasn't the one doing all those bad things. She wasn't even suppose to be part of all this. It wasn't her fault.

"Mira, why don't you want the Master to know? He's a good man," Gretta tried to persuade the young woman.

"You know how he is. He's been experimenting on me since you brought me to your head quarters. He wants to know everything about my. . .transformation. If he finds out about my powers, he'll want to do more experiments, tear me apart until he knows exactly what makes me tick," Mira told them, looking haunted. "It's why I've kept it a secret all my life. Shepherd isn't the only one out there who would stick me with a hundred needles until their curiosity is sated."

"You're wrong," Gretta defended the Master. "He won't do any of the sort if you don't want him to. He's not a mad scientist."

"It's my choice," Mira told her friend sternly. "I don't want him to know. He doesn't need to know."

"But don't you want to know more about your powers?" Gretta asked, trying a new approach. "The Master may be able to help you understand them, maybe even help you control them more. You said you've been hearing thoughts without wanting to. He might know how to stop that."

"I said no! Please, don't keep asking me," Mira snarled, feeling a more canine part of her come out, frustrated by Gretta's cajoling. "I don't want to know more about these powers. I can control them just fine. And hopefully, once I'm human, they won't be so strong. Maybe they will even go away."

Gretta gasped at that. "You don't want them?"

"No, they're a nuisance. It's annoying having them when nobody else has powers. It makes me feel like a freak," Mira said, tears starting to come to her eyes.

And they killed my best friend.

Blitz, Exile and Gretta's eyes all widened at the same time as they heard Mira's thoughts clear and crisp.

Mira caught their reaction, and she knew that they heard her thought. "I want to be alone, now. Please."

The three cano-sapiens left readily, their eyes cast downward as if they had done something wrong. Only Exile had an inkling of a idea of Mira's story. He knew that she referred to Shadow.

Once they left the room and closed the door, Gretta turned to the two males. "We have a problem, boys," she announced quietly. "The Master should know about Mira's powers."

"She doesn't want him to know," Exile defended. "It's her decision. We will honor it."

"But that's not the problem," Gretta said, looking worried. "I noticed back in Parvo's warehouse that there were cameras. I think that Parvo was watching the entire time. He most likely knows what Mira can do."

Blitz and Exile stood absolutely still as that information sunk in.

"Parvo will know Mira can command his cano-mutants," Blitz said, his voice serious. "He won't like that."

"No. And he might think same as Gretta. That Mira can control everyone," Exile added with a frown.

"Exactly," Gretta agreed. "Because of that, it is important that the Master knows what Mira can do so he can order more protection for her."

Blitz and Exile looked at each other as if they were thinking the same thing.

"Net, I promised Mira I wouldn't tell," Exile said with a shake of his head. He couldn't betray her again, not after stealing her journal. "She is honestly afraid of Shepherd."

"I agree," Blitz said with crossed arms. "Besides, I'm all the protection she needs. I'll stay as close to her as I can."

Gretta growled softly. "This isn't a game. She's in serious danger now, and we're the only ones who know it."

"Colleen, Hunter and Shag know, too. I'll tell them what happened on mission when we get back," Exile said. "Mira will spend all her time in headquarters. Parvo can't get her there."

"But what if that isn't enough?"

"Will you break Mira's confidence?" Exile questioned the rottweiler. "Is that what you're trying to get us to do?"

"No," Gretta admitted. "But maybe she'll listen to you to tell the Master. She's probably mad at me." She hung her head down sadly, her ears drooping.

Seeing the female looking sad, Blitz tried to cheer her up. "Mira is mad at all of us. But she is the forgiving sort. She forgave me. She'll forgive you." Then he narrowed his eyes at Exile. "And maybe you. . .eventually."

"Do not worry, comrade Gretta," Exile said, ignoring Blitz's jib. "Soon, the Master will turn Mira back into human. Then she'll be safe."

At that, the two males walked away, confident in this conclusion. But Gretta wasn't so sure.


When they arrived back to headquarters, Exile, as the second-in-command on the mission, was suppose to accompany Hondo to report back to the Master. However, he made an excuse to the greyhound, hoping that he could get Mira alone to talk to her. He wanted to thank her for saving him as well as to check up on her. She didn't look well talking to Gretta.

When Mira stepped off the plane, the husky headed toward her. At the same time, Gretta moved toward the mutated human as well. Mira, sensing that she was about to be surrounded, beat a hasty retreat in the direction of her bedroom, most likely not to be seen for a long time, per her usual behavior.

Realizing that this moment wasn't the best to reconcile with Mira, Exile decided to head to the exercise room. Whenever the husky wanted time to himself, he lifted weights or ran on a treadmill; both helped to clear his mind. In this case, he needed a strategy on how to speak to Mira.

After half an hour on the treadmill, Exile could feel his muscles tiring, especially after the fight he had been in. Luckily, besides a few bruises, he hadn't been hurt in the battle and was able to push himself on the treadmill. Despite his aches, he ran faster.

With his body occupied, his mind opened up to brainstorming on how to get back into Mira's good graces. He had a lot to make up for.

As a great idea popped in his head, the husky nearly stopped in his tracks, causing himself to stumble on the treadmill. His idea, while complicated and would take some work, would hopefully be well received by Mira. Leaving the gym, Exile rushed to his room for a quick shower before finding Hunter playing card games with Shag, Sonia and a couple of the new guys in the kitchen. Although they were in the middle of a hand, Hunter easily left the game to speak with Exile.

After Exile told him his plan, the golden retriever was happy to help, rushing out into the human world to pick up a few things for the husky. Only gone for a few minutes, Hunter was quick enough to return to the card game for the next hand.

Politely declining Shag's invitation to join the game, Exile went back to his room. He had a lot of work to do.


Safe in the sanctuary of her temporary room, Mira ran a hot shower, which dampened her headache slightly. She spent an hour washing and drying her furry body, trying to ignore the powerful smell of wet dog that she disliked. Clean and dressed, she prepared to lay down, read a few chapters in a book and go to sleep. After all, it was late, past midnight, and she could feel her eyes starting to burn with fatigue. Yet her nerves felt as tight as a clock spring, thus needing to read a book for a few minutes to calm down.

Right when she was getting into her novel, someone rapped on her door. Answering it, she found Gretta on the other side.

"Yes?" Mira said, letting her voice sound tired so to keep Gretta's words short.

"I just wanted to check up on you, see if you're still doing alright," Gretta spoke timidly, sensing Mira's weariness.

"I'm fine. I'm just tired," Mira said, not saying anything about her headache. She didn't want to give Gretta an excuse to pry.

Looking nervous, Gretta went on. "I still would like to give you a more thorough examination, just in case there are any. . .complications."

"What sort of complications?" Mira asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Well, your nose did bleed due to straining your powers. I just want you to have a cat scan just in case," Gretta explained.

"You think I have brain damage?" Mira inquired, feeling more awake.

"No. . .maybe. It's just a precaution," Gretta wavered. "It will only take a few minutes. Rabbit already has the machine prepped for you."

Mira's eyes widened. "You told Rabbit."

Raising her hands up in defense, Gretta assuaged, "I told him you bumped your head. He doesn't know anything about your powers, and neither does the Master."

Sighing heavily, Mira nodded. "Okay, let's make this quick." Still dressed in her pajamas, she followed the rottweiler down the hall.

Just as Gretta said, in the laboratory Rabbit had the cat-scan machine warmed up and ready for the mutated human.

"Before we begin, could I take a blood sample?" the austrailian shepherd asked, needle in hand.

Used to this process, Mira automatically extended her arm. Hating the pain accompanying the prick, she took the abuse for the sole purpose of knowing if her blood had stabilized. The optimistic side of her daydreamed of being able to go home soon.

With the blood drawn, Rabbit helped Mira in a laying-down position, informing her to keep absolutely still.

Having had two cat scans before while in Road Rover's HQ, Mira wished Rabbit would dispense with the preliminary explanations, but followed them with grumbling obedience. As the table she laid on slowly slid into the cat-scan machine, Mira yawned, feeling her jaw pop painfully. She was so tired, she wondered if she could fall asleep despite the loudness of the machine once it started scanning her brain. She was willing to try.

But she didn't even make it all the way inside the large cocoon-shaped machine before she fell unconscious. The noise of the cat-scan didn't even disturb her, nor the hardness of the table.

When she awoke, the cat-scan table was back out of the machine, and the lights in the laboratory were dimmed. Groggy, Mira sat up, feeling dizzy from getting up too quickly. She slapped her checks lightly to wake herself, but that only made her headache worse. She looked around for Rabbit or Gretta, but neither were in view. Thinking she'd find out the results to both the cat-scan and the blood test in the morning, Mira tentatively stood up with the purpose of going to her bedroom to continue her sleep. However, the light from another door caught her attention, and she could hear the voices of Rabbit and Shepherd speaking to each other, the former sounding concerned.

Intending to merely say good-night to the two just to let them know she was awake, Mira went to the door. But before she could make herself known, their words made her stop in her tracks.

". . .only a matter of days before her DNA is entirely canine," Shepherd said, his voice soft.

"It can't have changed this quickly. I told her that she still had weeks before the situation became dire," Rabbit said, his voice dripping with worry.

"You told her?"

"She has a right to know."

"There's nothing we can do about that, but let's keep this last test result to ourselves. No need to unnecessarily worry her. Her only hope now is to stabilize her DNA. How are the simulations going?"

"So far, all of come back negative. We're running out of options, Master. Perhaps now would be a good time to try the transdogmafier."

"No, not yet. It's too dangerous. We still have some time to find the right serum."

"But we were wrong on the time-line once. What if. . .?"

"I said no, Rabbit. We'll keep working. The solution is out there, I know it."

"I believe that, Master. But perhaps you should take a break. You're looking. . ."

Mira moved away from the door, not wanting to listen anymore. Leaving the laboratory as quietly as she could, the mutated human rushed back to her room, feeling her emotions move through her like a whirlwind in the desert. She didn't need this on top of everything else. Why couldn't something go right for her for once?

But the thing that hurt her the most was that Shepherd decided to keep this information from her, as if she were a child. How dare he make that decision for her? Not to mention how Rabbit had an idea that could help her, and Shepherd kept saying no. Shouldn't Mira be the one to decide if the risks were worth it?

All her negative feelings had consumed her so entirely, as she sat on her bed she didn't notice that objects started to levitate and encircle her until a lamp hit her in the head. Quite irritated with her new powers, it took Mira a few minutes to calm down enough to turn off her telekinesis, which dropped everything and broke a few knick-knacks. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the moved objects, throwing out the ones that couldn't be fixed. With her room back in order, she climbed into bed and turned off the lights.

No sooner had she closed her eyes than a tapping came to her bedroom door. It felt as if no time had passed, but checking her clock, Mira was surprised to see that she had been sleeping for seven hours. Still exhausted, she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and answered the door, wondering which of the cano-sapiens it would be this time.

"Yes, Exile?" she asked, seeing the face of the husky on the other side. She made her voice sound tired and sickly, hoping that the cano-sapien would quickly tell his business and let her go back to sleep.

"Good morning, Mira," he said gently, his ears lowering a bit. "How are you?"

"Tired," she said bluntly, hinting to dispense with the pleasantries.

"Yes. . .Ah. . .I wanted to thank you for yesterday. Thank you for saving my life," he said shyly, toying with a package in his hands.

Blinking, it took a moment for Mira to recall what he was referring to. After all, the night before was a bit blurry, but a fuzzy memory of using telekinesis to stop Exile from being bashed in the head came to mind. "Oh. You're welcome, Exile. I'm glad that you weren't hurt," she replied with a smile, sounding less tired.

Exile shifted his feet around before extending his arms to present the package he held. "This is for you. Is little gift I made," he explained, looking embarrassed by the gesture.

Mira accepted the gift, dropping her blanket in the process. "Thank you. Can I open it now?"

"Da."

Ripping into the paper, Mira uncovered a set of pink toe-shoes. She gasped in surprise. "You made these?" she asked.

"Not entirely. Just reinforced the toe to fit your new feet," Exile explained modestly.

Mira took the toe-shoes into her hands and felt the inside. She could tell that it wasn't a professional job, but it might work. The toe-shoes felt brand new, so she started bending the sole.

"Let's try them out," Mira said, grinning widely. Despite feeling sleepy, she was excited to put the shoes on to see if they worked. It had been almost a week since she'd been able to dance en pointe, and missed it terribly. Her desire to dance was so strong, she almost forgot that she still wore her pj's.

"Oh, give me a minute to dress," Mira said, smiling shyly at the childish sleep-wear that Colleen had given her. She closed her door on Exile and put on more appropriate attire.

"Come on," she said once out of her room. She grabbed the husky's hand and practically dragged him back to the workout room that had the wooden floors perfect for dancing. She tried to ignore the fact that all the mirrors were gone due to her psychic incident. Too bad, she wanted to see what she looked like dancing as a dog-person.

As Exile took a seat on some of the workout equipment close-by, Mira stretched and limbered her muscles and tendons. Then she slipped the toe-shoes over her fuzzy feet. They were a perfect fit, Exile's adjustments cushioning her canine, black nails. Standing up, she tapped her toes against the wooden floors to test how the shoes felt before tentatively going en pointe.

At first, she took it easy, not wanting to break the dance shoes or damage her toes. She took tiny steps, then a few leaps. Except for the usual discomfort that came with dancing in brand-new shoes, everything went fine. Finally, she tried a pirouette, which was where her new feet usually got her in trouble.

She closed her eyes for the first spin, praying that the shoes would hold. She spun again and again, opening her eyes to watch the room speed by at dizzying speeds. She went faster and faster, spinning until she couldn't spin any more. Breaking out of the move, she dizzily walked around, then gave Exile the biggest grin.

"They work. I can dance in them," she squealed, jumping up and down like a kid. "These shoes are amazing, Exile."

The husky returned her smile. "I'm glad. You dance beautifully."

At the compliment, Mira felt her cheeks turn warm. "Thank you. I'm a little out of practice. You should see me during a routine. I totally nailed my role as Odette in Swan Lake two years ago. I felt like a princess in that costume." Realizing she was ranting, Mira pranced away on her toes, practicing a few of the fancier jumps.

After a while, she noticed that Exile had stood up and moved toward the exit.

"Where are you going?" she asked, somewhat disappointed. Usually an introvert, Mira's secret love was being watched as she danced, even if just practicing a few steps. She berated herself for her pride, telling herself that Exile must be bored or had something better to do.

"I thought you'd want to be alone," Exile said with a nod. "I leave."

"You don't have to," Mira said suddenly. "I mean, if you want to stay, then stay. But if you need to go somewhere. . ."

"No, I'd love to watch you dance more," Exile said, giving her a toothy smile. "Russians all love the ballet."

Mira chuckled at that, turning her happiness into impromptu dance steps as if music were playing. A bit of a show-off, she performed some of the more difficult dance moves, including bouncing on one toe-shoe for a long period of time, which required tough feet and endurance to keep at it. After ten minutes, she felt silly dancing for only Exile. She felt a bit lonely.

"Come and dance with me," she invited the husky, holding her hands out to him.

"Me? Dance?" Exile asked, looking alarmed.

"Yeah. Get up here," Mira persuaded. She expected the cano-sapien to make an excuse why not or say he had two left feet. It's what most boys said if she asked them to dance. Even if she offered to teach them, most refused still.

But to her surprise, Exile joined her on the wooden floor without protest.

"I don't know how, but I'll try," Exile admitted, not shirking whatsoever from the challenge. "I've seen many ballets in Russia. The men, their part is lifting girls, da?"

Mira laughed at that. "There's a little more to it than that. We'll start out small."

With a little instruction, Exile helped Mira with the more difficult bends, then teaching him how to help her with a pirouette, using one hand to give her more speed in the spin. After that, she taught the husky about the different jumps and lifts he could aid her in.

Soon, the female flew through the air, feeling strong hands catch her and hold her steadily. Mira was amazed by Exile's strength in lifting her high above her head. The usual male dancers she worked with were short or lacked the muscle to hold her steady. The male dancers from the studio she learned from were sons of the ballet mistress, more interested in flirting than becoming serious dancers. Even though he was inexperienced, Exile was the best partner she ever had. She wished she had enough time to teach him the pas de deux from The Nutcracker that she loved so much. That would be amazing.

Except for the fact that Exile didn't know the basics of ballet, much less be able to stay en pointe in toe-shoes. And he might look ridiculous in tights. Especially with all that heavy fur.

The last lift they did together, Mira ran at Exile, jumping almost as if she were to take flight like a bird. And take flight she did, with Exile's strong hands taking their spot on her abdomen and holding her up in the air. Mira extended her arms and contorted her spine backward, her body forming a backward C. She wished she was in a uniform, not in street clothes.

As Exile lowered her, he kept her near, careful not to drop her in the process. Mira placed her hands on his chest as she panted slightly. Ballet, especially the jumps and lifts, always worked her muscles until she was a sweaty mess and breathing heavily. Exile, on the other hand, looked ready to continue with the workout. Mira envied his stamina.

"You did a great job," Mira said, smiling tiredly but brightly. "Now, we just need to get you a tutu and you'll be set for the stage."

"Niet. Those pink ruffles make my butt look big," Exile joked, his eyes twinkling.

The ballet joke reminded Mira of her dancing partners, the girls she had known for years in her class and her teacher. The faces that popped up in her mind so suddenly caused tears to fill up her eyes. The water works continued at the thought that there was a possibility that she would never see them again.

"What? My joke that bad?" Exile asked, afraid that he had offended the mutated human.

Mira shook her head, feeling too emotional to answer. It seemed insensitive to explain to Exile what she was missing back home with ballet when he just gave her the new toe-shoes.

"No, your joke was. . .hilarious," Mira said. "I'm just so happy that even though things have gone badly for me, I'm still able to enjoy dancing. Thank you for that, Exile." She patted his shoulder before moving away from him. "Perhaps we can dance again. I'll teach you the ancient symbolic dance of the Macarena." She smiled at him through her tears before leaving the workout room.

As she walked back to her room, she also thanked Exile silently. He had helped her make a decision. She was determined to try her luck with the transdogmafier as Rabbit suggested. Even if she did it without Shepherd's blessing.


Hysterical laughter bubbled up his throat, cutting through the whines of his latest experiment. The creature, a dark-furred fox, lay on his table, gasping and heaving from the drastic transformation. Even though he had seen it over a dozen times, the metamorphosis always brought a bought of euphoria for Dr. Saraaf.

The fox, obviously male, moaned before he passed out. Like all of the experiments, he was perfectly formed without any physical problems. Completely bare and covered in fur, he was a thing of beauty for the scientist.

And the last.

For the last several hours, Saraaf had been constantly going through each animal until he was down to the bat-eared fox. The others huddled in their cages, moaning and whining or sleeping off the stress of the morphing. As far as the professor could tell, all were healthy and suffered no injury or radical effects other than shock. He treated them all with care, giving them ample food and water. Several shivered in their cages, and they had been given blankets. Although they seemed to have adapted to their new bodies by using their fingers and opposable thumbs the correct way, even walking on hind legs, none had displayed any higher knowledge by speaking.

Saraaf wondered if, like a child, the canines had to be taught the language word for word. There was also a chance that the experiments only changed the beasts physically, and their intelligence would remain at animal level.

Dr. Saraaf shrugged this off, figuring he would have time in the near future to test his experiment's IQ. For now, he felt exhausted as his mania winded down to a passive state. He felt satisfied with his work, confident that he was safe from his enemies. He wanted to checked his last experiment's vitals and put him back into his cage, before getting some rest, feeling as if he could sleep for a week.

The bat-eared fox mutant was slight and small, easy for Saraaf to move back into the cage. He berated himself for having such small cages for the mutants. After all, they were made for animals, not human-sized creatures. The cages were cramped and ill-adept for housing his. . . children. Yes, they were his children. Not as beloved as Dash, but he felt affection for the creatures. Once he awoke, he would make sure to purchase more comfortable arrangements for the mutants.

Before he wrapped himself in a blanket and catch some Zs, the professor took one last look over his creations, making sure there was retroactive complications. He especially checked on five that he was most concerned with. These five were special in that Saraaf hadn't used his own blood in the transformation. Instead, he had used Hunter's. The effects were startling.

The first creature he gave Hunter's blood to was a coyote to test if the Road Rover's blood would have the same effect as a human's. He treated the DNA sample the same way before injecting it into the coyote. The transformation was almost instantaneous, the body changing rapidly. And it seemed to cause less pain, for the coyote barely whined during the process. At the end, the coyote remained awake and alert, straining at her manacles. Saraaf swore he could see a higher intelligence in the coyote's eyes. As she (for the coyote was definitely female) allowed her eyes roam about the warehouse, he could tell she was figuring out something.

He only had four more doses of Hunter's blood, and he used them all. The next was on a red fox who's transformed body was short, even for a mutant. Then he used it on the dingo that had acted friendly to him before, like a pet dog. Even in his transformed state, the dingo remained friendly toward Saraaf, wagging his tail and touching the professor's face as if in amazement. The last two doses he used on the male black timber wolf whose mate had been the first successful experiment, and the hyena. These two he had tranquilized with the dart gun before injecting them while inside the cage. Saraaf didn't dare carry them to the table with how aggressive they acted toward him. Once transformed, the hyena, a female, paced back and forth on her back legs, occasionally attack the bars by trying to pull them apart or biting them. The wolf, however, explored his cage as if he had not seen it before, looking over every inch of it with a careful eyes. He also showed concern for the female timber wolf, who huddled in the corner of her own cage.

He took careful notes of each mutants, writing on a clipboard in his scribble-script all his observations. Even as fatigued as he was, he was a scientist through and through.

Just as he was almost through with his rounds and preparing to go to sleep, he heard a door open up with a creak. Dr. Saraaf stiffened at the noise. He wasn't the only one to become alert at the noise. Several of the mutants sat up to take notice, sniffing, barking and growling at the darkness beyond the lighted workstation.

Instantly wary and afraid, Saraaf scanned the darkness beyond his laboratory lamps, but the high-watt bulbs made it difficult to see anything in the rest of the warehouse. By the sound, he knew which of the warehouses doors had been opened. He wondered if he should run to a different exit or go after his weapon. He started to casually make his way for a different door, hoping to deceive whoever entered the warehouse, but at the last minute, went for the weapon.

He was a mere handful of steps to his second workstation where the device sat when a large figure stepped in front of him. A wide grin behind a blond mustache forced him to stop.

"Hello, doctor," General Parvo said with his hands on his hips.

A group of his mutated soldiers formed out of the darkness behind him, standing straight and forbidding, ready to fight at a word. The Irish woman stood to Parvo's right, looking smug.

The large man cast his eyes around the warehouse, taking in the cages and the sounds of the mutated creatures.

"You've been busy, doctor," Parvo purred, looking satisfied. "It's time to put that work towards a good use."