Chapter 5: Reunions to come, reunions to go
"Our life is made by the deaths of others" – Leonardo Da Vinci
In the somewhat familiar darkness of the location of Bloodrazor's little experiment, there was something called the pit. It wasn't an actual pit, but everyone called it that. It was in fact a dark room, with three of the four walls decorated with knifes, shackles, chains and a large variety of different tools meant for the art of torture. Most of those 'decorations' had blood on them, but none of it belonged to the husky that was currently bound on the table. Even though he had been in that room a lot, his torture had always been of a different variety.
The husky in question, Recruit 792, was happy to be left alone, even though he was still strapped to a table. The past hour had been an absolute hell for him, until Bloodrazor's goons received a phone call and left the room. It was during this state of rest that suddenly, out of nowhere, the door was thrown open by none other than Bloodrazor.
At first Bloodrazor didn't say anything, he just closed the door behind him and calmly walked to a corner of the room the husky couldn't see from his position, before coming back with a plastic chair in his hands. He calmly put it down within the husky's line of sight, before taking a seat in it. He rested his arms on the armrests, while leaning back into the chair. This is when the husky saw it: blood on his wrists. Not much blood, just a few drops, but just enough to notice and recognize it.
"Recruit 792, have you learned your lesson yet?" Bloodrazor asked after waiting a while.
The husky, having spent the past hour in absolute hell thanks to Bloodrazor, wanted desperately to resist him, albeit in the small way of not answering his question. When no answer came, Bloodrazor decided to speak again.
"In the late sixties, the US government experimented with certain enhanced interrogation techniques. One of them proved extremely effective, which is what you have been experiencing the past hour. I'll save you the scientific details, but it comes down to this: a barbiturate injection in one arm that knocks you out, and an injection of amphetamine in the other, which wakes you back up. It creates an effect like that of a rollercoaster. As you have undoubtedly learned by now, it hurts like hell. You may have survived an impressive 53 doses, but eventually, your heart will give out. So here is my final offer, join us or die. And I promise you this, that death will be long and rather painful"
Hearing these last few words from Bloodrazor somehow reached deep down in the husky, and he felt his resistance slip away, as well as his consciousness. He felt himself slowly passing out, but before he did, he felt his lips moving, seemingly on their own.
"I-I accept" the husky heard his own voice saying.
"Then let's get you ready for your big day" Bloodrazor said, right before the husky passed out.
Rikers Island was the main prison of Coastal City. It was your standard detention facility, with a total of three wings. Like the pier, this prison was also named after another existing structure. In this case it was named after the New York prison: Rikers Island. It was here where many of the criminals arrested by Silvex were locked up. But Silvex, Chase and Marshall were only interested in one of them: Rubble Wreckage, aka Trubble.
After Chase and Marshall had received the phone call from Silvex, they immediately left for the prison. But because Silvex still had Chase's car, they drove up in Marshall's red Toyota. They parked in the parking lot right outside the prison, where there were only four cars in a space fit for 50. Chase instantly recognized one of the cars as his, meaning that Silvex had arrived before them and was probably already inside.
"So this is Rikers? It looks so big" Marshall said as he got out of the driver's seat. The impressive structure seemed to slightly intimidate the dalmatian, or maybe it was the convicted criminals inside.
Chase, on the other hand, was as calm as ever, like he was just doing a normal, everyday activity. It was as if he was going to work or buy groceries. His traumatic experience from earlier that day seemed to be completely forgotten, or pushed all the way to the back of his mind.
"It's necessary, where else would we put everyone me and Chase arrest?" Silvex said as he appeared from the entrance of the prison. He quickly walked up to the duo and turned to Marshall. "Let me introduce myself, I am Detective Silvex Knyght, Chase's partner" as he extended a paw towards Marshall.
"I'm Marshall, I'm Chase's boy-" Marshall said, as he shook the other's paw. He stopped himself just before finishing that last word, almost giving away their relationship, before quickly trying to save it. "Chase's friend. I'm his friend. And also a former PAW Patrol member"
"Another ex-PAW Patroller? Well, that could come in handy" Silvex said "I have already briefed the prison, they'll let us talk to Rubble"
As the three entered the prison, Chase suddenly had a feeling in his stomach, like something was about to go wrong. He couldn't quite place it, but something told him that he should be careful, especially now that Marshall came along with them. They made their way to the reception, where a young blonde woman was sitting. She was wearing a standard guard uniform, and was probably equipped with both a gun and a taser, neither of which Chase could see. She greeted them with a kind smile, but something in her eyes told you not to mess with her.
"Hi, we are here to see Rubble Wreckage, as we talked about earlier" Silvex said
"Ah yes, I'll get someone to bring you to the interrogation room. In the meantime, please drop your weapons in the lockers on your right" she said. She then pressed a button on the microphone on her desk, which allowed her to speak through the intercom. "Mary, Hank, please report to the entrance"
Both Chase and Silvex walked over to the lockers and put in their guns. Chase put in his Glock 17 and Silvex his Beretta 96. As Chase closed the locker's door, he couldn't help but think that leaving both sidearms behind was a bad idea. He looked over his shoulder at the receptionist, but she was focused on her computer. This was the best, and probably the only opportunity Chase would have, so he quickly picked his gun back up. He wanted to hide it in his jacket, but before he could, Silvex grabbed his paw holding the gun and leaned in close to his partner's ear.
"Don't risk it, Chase" Silvex whispered, before letting go of Chase's paw and stepping back.
"You're right, I'm sorry, partner" Chase said as he lowered his ears and put his gun back, before closing the locker.
"Don't worry about it, I might've done the same thing if I weren't this experienced" Silvex said with a smile. "Now let's go back to your… friend, was it?" Silvex quickly made his way back to the reception, where Marshall and the receptionist were joined by two guards in uniforms.
Hold on, what did he say? Does he know about Marshall and me?
Chase snapped out of his thoughts to run after Silvex, catching up with him only after Silvex had reached the reception.
"Please take these Detectives to the interrogation room, the prisoner is already in there" the reception-desk-lady said to the guards, but without looking up from the screen.
"Will do, Nicole" the guard on the right said, earning a small wave from the receptionist. "Just follow me guys"
About twenty miles south from the prison, there was a small rest-stop by the highway, overlooking the ocean. The rest-stop itself featured a small diner, a gas station and a grass field filled with some picnic tables, all surrounding the parking lot. In this parking lot, there were two cars and four trucks, with one of the former belonging to Zuma Shade. The Labrador himself was sitting at one of the picnic tables.
Zuma was pretty tired, he had been driving for about nine hours, with only three 20-minute brakes in-between. It didn't exactly agree with NCIS's regulations, or traffic laws in general. But Zuma didn't really care anymore. Knowing his target, he would stop at nothing to catch him. That's just who Zuma was, a devoted workaholic. Whether it was during his PAW-Patrol days, or after, he would always give everything to his job. This sometimes caused him to overlook what to others was painfully obvious, like a certain mixed-breed's crush on him. A crush that, unbeknownst to anyone, was mutual.
Zuma had lost his parents on an early age, as did Chase. From the outside it would seem like they grew up without a family, but truth was that they didn't. The PAW-Patrol may have been about helping others, but in the end, they also helped themselves. In one way or another, the original members of the PAW-Patrol had all lost their families, but all managed to find a new one in each other.
Zuma saw the PAW-Patrol as his family, one in which he has two sisters, Skye and Everest. He saw them both as his older sisters, Skye because she had been there from the start, and Everest because she was as cool and collected as most elder siblings. Ryder would fill the position of the patriarch, as well as their father, while Katy would be the mother or stepmother. Tracker and Rubble would be the youngest siblings, because they both still had that young enthusiasm. They could both also be quite childish at times. But while everyone liked Tracker, no one seemed to really get along with Rubble. In truth, Rubble actually was the kind of annoying little brother you secretly wished had never been born.
Zuma also felt like he had three older brothers: Chase, Marshall and… Rocky. And that's where his idea of their little family fell apart. At first, maybe, his feelings towards Rocky were those of brotherly affection, but over time, they developed into something… more.
Looking over the water, knowing that somewhere, far in the distance, his crush had built his own life, away from everyone and everything in their little family. And yet he thrived. Zuma, on the other hand, built his life around the one thing he knew: water rescue.
It's fitting, the biggest difference between Rocky and me is our feelings towards water, and now the biggest mass of water is what separates us.
Zuma sighed upon this realization, still feeling the pain of his missed chance with someone who was so much more than just his crush. But he got up, ignoring his aching body and walking towards his car.
He sat down in the driver's seat and took out his trusty tablet. He wanted to check up on recent police reports from the past crime scenes, as well as the most recent file that he just received from Boston, when he saw the time: 23:49. Just then he realized how tired he actually was, and that he had no chance of catching the PtP-killer if he couldn't even think straight.
So Zuma put his tablet back into the glove compartment, locked the car and crawled towards the backseat, where he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
Zuma often had vivid dreams, usually producing twisted scenarios based on the events happening in his real life. So, needless to say, the past few months he had been dreaming non-stop about the PtP killer. But this night was different. He still dreamt, of course, but not about the PtP killer. This night, he dreamt about the past, rather than the presence.
The prison facility at Rikers Island can hold a large number of inmates, and it's suited for both human and canine prisoners. It has therefore also several specialized canine interrogation rooms, equipped with the usual tables and chairs, except for the one that the inmate sits in, those are custom made for canine containment, with handcuffs attached to both the front paws of the inmate. It was in one of those rooms that Rubble was seated in such a specialized chair, across from Silvex.
Neither one of them had said a word since the latter entered, they both just said there and looked at each other, waiting until the weaker one of them would break. Turns out, that someone was Rubble.
"What are you doing here?" Rubble asked, while carefully making sure that his voice didn't give away his emotions.
"So I guess you remember me" Silvex said reacted with a small smile. He knew Rubble was hiding his emotions, and he knew why. "I see you're keeping those emotions of yours hidden, now?"
"Do you blame me?" Rubble asked, while accidentally letting a little anger slip into his voice. "It's how you caught me, the last time we saw each other"
"Not true, I caught you because of good police work" Silvex replied "But the fact that your out-of-control emotions gave you away did help"
"I assume you didn't come here to gloat" Rubble said "So why are you here?"
"Right, let's get to the point" Silvex said "When you were arrested, you were carrying an unregistered Beretta 96. You were never charged with that crime since it paled in comparison to your other crimes, and because the DA didn't want to risk it. Besides, you were already set to receive a life sentence. Do you remember that, Rubble?"
"It's Trubble nowadays" Rubble answered. "And why should I help you, after you arrested me?"
"Well, technically, I didn't arrest you, I just sent the officers that arrested you and presented the case to the DA" Silvex replied. While his voice may have remained as neutral as before, his face told a different story. Silvex managed to hide it a little, but you could still see a faint smile on his face, as well as a spark of pride in his eyes. Silvex felt that about every one of his arrests.
"But this isn't about me" Silvex said, this time with his poker face back up. "It's about you"
"How so?" Rubble asked, his face and voice still calm, but paws started fidgeting. Silvex noticed this, and he knew Rubble was getting nervous.
"Someone has your gun, and they are killing people with it" Silvex said "Sooner or later, they will outshine you, which will hurt your reputation. And if there's one thing I've learned about those one the other side of the law, especially the ones with nicknames, it would be that they love their reputations" Silvex continued, causing Rubble to fidget more and more with his restraints. "So once again, will you tell me about that gun, so that we can stop this guy?"
"You people took it when I was arrested" Rubble said, either caving to the pressure, or seeing the reason in Silvex's arguments. "Wherever it is now, I don't know. But I haven't seen it since"
"Then let me ask you something else, a… hypothetical of sorts" Silvex asked, quickly shifting to one of his other questions. "Say, someone wanted to take out a certain high-ranked gangster, preferably in a shootout with the police, do you have any idea who could orchestrate that?"
"This is about Marcus Black, isn't it?" Rubble said, shocking Silvex momentarily. "Yeah, we get the news in here, but I'm not going to snitch my family!"
"Well, I was afraid you'd say that" Silvex said as he stood up and walked towards the door. "But that's why I brought part of your old family" He opened the door, and both Marshall and Chase walked in. Rubble recognized both of them, but something about Marshall made him flinch.
"So, the two of you are the great Silvex's last resort? What are you gonna do, make me cry?" Rubble asked mockingly. "Or are you gonna remind me of the good ol' days?"
"Well, Chase and I are here in official capacity, but personally, I think they deserve some closure" Silvex said, before holding out his paw to Chase, who quickly placed his badge in it. Silvex then walked back, and pulled the cord from the security camera, giving the four canines complete privacy.
After seeing Silvex do that, Rubble's attention quickly shifted towards Chase, who looked straight back into the bulldog's eyes. While his attention had shifted, Silvex quickly plugged the camera back in, making sure that Rubble didn't notice.
For a moment, Rubble stopped fidgeting, paralyzed as he was from looking into Chase's eyes. Those eyes only featured one thing: hate. Rubble could see the burning hatred inside of them, and for the first time in years, since he buried his first body knowingly, he was actually scared.
"We gave you a Chance! Ryder and I, we let you into our family, into our home, and then you turned out like this? How dare you defile Ryder's memory?" Chase yelled, but he wasn't done. He continued, on an even higher volume this time. "WE TRUSTED YOU! AND YOU BETRAYED US!" after shouting those sentences at the top of his lungs, Chase was completely out of breath, so Marshall took over.
"You took the PAW Patrol oath, you swore to be loyal, kind, helpful and honourable. What happened to the Rubble who promised those things?" Marshall asked. Compared to his boyfriend's shouts, his words seemed soft, but they seemed to hit Rubble where it hurt. Maybe it was Chase's words, maybe it was Marshall's, or maybe it was both, but they made Rubble break.
"I-I-I… Fine. I'll tell you what I know" Rubble said as he broke, and started fidgeting again. He first turned to Silvex. "The Coastal City you once knew doesn't exist anymore, as you may have figured out by now. It is currently under the control of a single organization, which is led by a man they call Bloodrazor. In the modern day and age, we have two kinds of crime bosses. There are the criminals like Marcus Black, who enjoy being in the spotlight. And you have the criminals that are wise enough to stay out of it. Bloodrazor is one of the latter kind, no one knows his face, yet he controls nearly the entire city" Rubble explained, before turning to Chase. "He has countless cops in his pocket, and he has people everywhere. He conducts operations throughout the city, from bank robberies to assassinations. My guess is that whatever evidence led you to Marcus Black, was planted by him, or by someone that works for him. I'm also pretty sure that he knew Marcus Black personally, and that he knew that the guy wouldn't surrender, leaving you no choice but to kill him" At this point, Rubble stopped his explanation to catch his breath, while the fidgeting was getting worse. Marshall noticed it as well, though Chase was a little too focused on Rubble's explanation to care.
"There's one thing you should know about Bloodrazor" Rubble continued "His plans never seem to stop. For example, I doubt his plans ended with Mr Black's death. I think that he planned for the case to assigned to a particular detective, one who had a habit of messing up his plans. He probably knew that said detective would follow the path to the victim's sister, where that detective would find a body with a bullet that would lead him straight to a certain inmate. And maybe, he even planned for that detective to come visit that inmate, late at night, with his partner. In fact, cancel that maybe, I know for sure" with those words, Rubble snapped out of his restraints. He pulled a knife from under the chair and stormed straight at Chase. Chase's reflexes kicked in and he dodged, but Rubble anticipated it. The bulldog changed his direction mid-air, and bumped straight into Chase, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him flying to the wall. Rubble immediately leaped at Silvex with his knife drawn, an attack that Silvex barely managed to dodge. As Rubble landed at the place where Silvex had been standing, he turned 180 degrees with his right hind-paw stretched out. Said right hind paw hit Silvex quite hard in the kidney, knocking him down as well. Rubble had both detectives on the ground, and he was clearly winning the fight.
"I understand you're mad at me for the mistakes I made, but I'm mad at you too!" Rubble shouted at Chase as he approached the shepherd with the knife in his shaking paw. "The day of the funeral, I read your journal, and I know your secret, you dirty faggot!" Rubble then turned to Marshall "Did you know your best friend has feelings for you? That he wants to fuck you?"
Rubble has thought about this moment for the past two years, the moment that he could finally confront Chase with his dirty secret, the moment that he could finally destroy the friendship Marshall and Chase had, the one he had always been jealous of. So, he thought that he had a pretty good idea of what reaction Marshall would have upon hearing this news, one of either anger or confusion. But he was wrong, he didn't see any reaction on the dalmatian's face, not even surprise.
"Oh, t-trust me, he knows" Rubble heard Chase's voice behind him. As he turned around, the bulldog saw that Chase struggling to get up, but when he finally managed to, the shepherd continued. "Y-you see, we aren't friends anymore, we're…" Chase glanced at Silvex, who was still fully conscious and reaching for his probably injured back. "…boyfriends"
That answer, and the revelation that came with it was certainly the last thing that Rubble expected, and just for a moment, he dropped his guard. Which is when Marshall saw his chance to charge at Rubble, resulting in the dalmatian smashing the bulldog against the wall. But Rubble, being build a lot tougher than the dalmatian, wasn't that easily taken down. Making matters worse, he now had his sights put on Marshall. Marshall had never been one of a fighter, but now that both Silvex and Chase barely had the strength to talk, let alone fight, he had no choice. But still, a dalmatian who only knew how to fight fires wouldn't be able to stand up against an armed, ruthless gangster with a lot of experience in fighting, who just knocked down two cops with ease. There was no way in hell he'd win this fight. Rubble quickly recovered from Marshall's surprise attack, and placed his knife at Marshall's throat. Marshall knew he was about to die, so he just closed his eyes, and tried to make peace with his fate.
While he tried to accept the fact that someone he had once considered a brother was about to kill him, the silence was broken by two very loud bangs. As Marshall opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Rubble, but the bulldog was no longer holding a knife to the dalmatian's throat. In fact, said bulldog was lying face down on the floor, right at Marshall's paws. It took Marshall a while to realize what had happened, which he only did after seeing the two round holes in the back of Rubble's head.
"How do you win a knife fight?" Silvex asked rhetorically, before answering it himself. "By bringing a gun"
It caused Chase to laugh, while Marshall couldn't hold in a snort. It had very little to do with the joke, but more with the stress of the last few minutes that had just been lifted, as well as the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. After all, it wasn't even that good of a joke.
Zuma found himself back in Adventure Bay at the central square. It had been his home for so many years, he still remembered every detail of it. He, as well as most of the town's inhabitants and the members of the PAW-Patrol, were standing around a big oak chest, which held Ryder's lifeless body. His eyes were closed, and his hands were folded on his chest around a white and red rose, making it look like he was sleeping peacefully. It was only yesterday that a joyful Ryder had ordered them to take the day off, which they all sorely needed after the months of non-stop work. When Ryder wasn't home for dinner, all the pups went out searching for him. They eventually found him, lying by the side of the road, right at the foot of the cliff. His body was badly hurt, but his broken neck seemed to have killed him instantly.
Once all six of the main pups had arrived, and saw their leader, they all grew silent. All but one. The only sound that could be heard through the deafening silence around them was the ear-piercing cry of Chase, who looked up to Ryder more than anyone. Marshall was the first to rush to his side and comfort him, while the rest quickly used supplies from Rocky's truck to make a stretcher that they could use to carry Ryder's body back to town, it just wouldn't feel right to put him in the storage of one of their trucks.
A small smile appeared on Zuma's sad face as he looked down upon their fallen leader.
Even in death, you still got us to work together as a team.
Zuma then felt a small tab on his shoulder, which turned out to have come from Rocky, who's tearstained face motioned for Zuma to follow him. Zuma followed the mixed-breed without hesitation. There was clearly something important he wanted to discuss if he was willing to drag them both away from Ryder. Rocky led Zuma to a shadowy corner of the square, which was far enough away from prying eyes and ears.
"Listen, Zuma" Rocky started with a breaking voice, while wiping away his tears. "I'm pretty sure that Ryder's death will also mean the end of the PAW-Patrol"
"What are you talking about?" Zuma asked "We're still here, and we've got Chase…"
"Yeah, but we need Ryder for the PAW-Patrol to work" Rocky said. The harsh truth he was telling made his voice a little bit more stable. "Now that he's gone, the PAW-Patrol will fall apart. Which also means that we are all splitting up"
"What?" Zuma asked, tears streaming down his face. "Why?"
"Because we all want different things from life" Rocky replied. But before that happens, I want to tell you something"
"What is it?" Zuma asked, still crying.
"I… I uhm…" Rocky started, not getting further than the word 'I'. "I will never forget you" He finally said, and pulled Zuma into a hug. When he let go, the Labrador thought he could see a feint blush on the mixed-bread's grey cheeks, but it might have just been his imagination.
"We should get back to the others" Rocky said, before turning around suddenly and walking off, straight into a tall man wearing a hat, sunglasses and a trench coat. The latter cause the man to trip, and drop his sunglasses at Rocky's paws.
"I'm sorry, sir" Rocky said as he gave them back to the man, looking him straight in the face.
"Watch where you're going!" the man said before he forcefully grabbed the sunglasses from Rocky and stormed off.
"What a creep" Zuma said as he walked up to Rocky. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah" Rocky replied "But what's with wearing that outfit to a funeral?"
"I don't know. But did you see that fresh scar under his eye?" Zuma asked "I wonder how someone would get a scar as round as that"
Both PAW-Patrollers quickly re-joined the others at the coffin, and finished saying their farewells.
When Zuma woke up, it was 6:00 am. He got up from the backseat and crawled back up to the driver's seat. He was about to start the car when he noticed the clouds started to turn pink, and he realized that the sun was coming up. This brought back some fond memories for the Labrador, memories that he shared with a certain mixed-breed. They were memories of them, watching the sunrise together at the cliff by the lookout. Longing back to those days, Zuma decided not to start the car, but instead to walk back to the picnic tables. Walking over there through the grass, he felt his paws turning wet, but he didn't mind. He wanted too badly to take a trip down memory lane, just this once.
When Zuma reached the tables, he became speechless when he saw the view, it looked just like it did from the lookout. It was a truly beautiful morning, with hardly a cloud in the sky. He could see uninterrupted for miles over the water. But the part he loved the most about the view, was the sun as it rose from the ocean. But it wasn't just beautiful, it also brought back so many memories, memories of simpler times, when they were all still living together as a family, when they didn't have to live with Ryder's death. When he and Rocky would both wake up early and enjoy the sunrise together. Zuma closed his eyes, and with all those memories flooding his mind, it almost felt like Rocky was right there, sitting next to him.
Zuma could feel the mixed-breed's fur touching him, hear his heartbeat increasing the closer they came. He could smell Rocky's scent, not that he'd ever forget it.
Zuma kept his eyes closed, not wanting this moment to end, unwilling to put a stop to the memories. He let himself get overwhelmed by them, he actually felt them. Zuma didn't know what happened to him, it was as if he had gone back in time, yet stayed right where he was. He remembered the first time that he understood his feelings towards Rocky, the first time he dreamt of being with him, how he longed to be with the mixed-breed ever since the PAW-Patrol's disbandment. He felt like he was drowning in his feelings, he had to say it, he couldn't keep it in any longer.
"I love you, Rocky" Zuma said.
"I love you too, Zuma" a feint whisper answered. A whispering voice that Zuma instantly recognized as Rocky's. Zuma immediately opened his eyes, but Rocky wasn't there. After opening his eyes, the touch of Rocky's fur disappeared, as did the sound of his heartbeat. But for some reason, it seemed like his scent was still there.
Zuma stood there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet, before turning around and walking back to his car.
When he reached it, he opened the driver's side door and was about to sit down when he saw movement and a small flash from the corner of his eye. He instinctively pulled out his gun as he turned around, ready to face wherever the gunshot came from. Only, it wasn't a gunshot, instead, it was a shooting star.
A shooting star? Really?
Zuma chuckled as he lowered his gun.
I might as well try…
Zuma quickly scanned the near empty parking lot for someone who might overhear him. When he didn't see any sign of life around, he started to formulate his wish, something he hadn't done since he was a little pup.
"Here we go" Zuma said "I wish to one day in the near future be reunited with my old friends, but most importantly, with the love of my life: Rocky Greene"
Well, who knows. Maybe wishes do come true
Zuma had no idea how right he was…
Rocky woke up in the middle of the night, in his apartment in Rotterdam. He could still vividly remember the dream he just had. But for some reason, it didn't feel like a dream. His dream, like so many the past two years, was about Zuma. Sometimes he dreamt about the PAW-Patrol days, other times he dreamt about the present and how he might reunite with him and how they would build a life together. But this night was different. This night, he dreamt that they were sitting side by side, overlooking the ocean, just as the sun rose to the sky, like they used to do back in their PAW-Patrol days, only different. They were both older, it was a different spot and it felt so much more realistic than any dream he ever had before. It was like they were both there, in some kind of dreamscape. The scientist in Rocky disputed this, since there was no way he could telepathically connect to Zuma. But still, everything about the dream felt real, or maybe he just wished it was. Maybe his imagination just kicked in, and realised his greatest desire: for Zuma to have feelings for him too.