Darting over the back of a truck, Dodger glanced over his shoulder, and grinned as he discovered that his pursuers were nowhere in sight. At any rate, he was certain that he'd hear the crashing of Einstein before he'd see him, but the others perhaps not. The official purpose for the chase had been that it was a training exercise, making sure that the troops were up to Dodger's high standards, but really the young mutt just wanted to start the day with a bit of fun. Since the great escape from the dog fighters' basement, fun had been working its way back onto the agenda, and Dodger was getting back his old devil-may-care attitude. Things were looking up.
Dodger ran forward, jumping between cars as he went. Just ahead, he was sure he spied a glimpse of a fast-moving canine figure. He changed direction, taking the next right turn and using the flow of traffic to keep his speed up. His suspicions were soon confirmed when he saw Rita out the corner of his eye, running out from where he'd seen her last and cranking up her pace. And then from his other side came the clattering of paws on metal- they were surrounding him! Dodger was impressed, but they hadn't caught him just yet. He looked around to see Einstein close on his tail and Francis a little way away.
Rita swung round in front of Dodger while he was momentarily distracted by the others, cutting him off. "Got ya now, handsome!" she barked, her tail high in exhilaration.
Skidding to a stop, Dodger growled a threat, ready to clash. Just then, a small object collided with him from above, hitting him hard in the head. Dazed, he quickly realised that he'd been caught.
"Gotcha!" Tito hollered, rolling down off the windscreen of the taxi.
Before Dodger could react, he felt a sharp pressure at his throat and hot breath against his neck. He squirmed and grappled with Rita with his claws, soon dislodging her.
The poor driver of the taxi slammed on the brakes in alarm as three dogs slid scrambling and snarling down his windscreen. A loud sound of the horn did little to hurry their getting out of the way… they were just having a good time.
Soon, all five dogs were brawling together, and all laughing and growling as they went. Dodger finally broke away and made a run for it, eventually flopping down in a narrow alley to wait for his friends to catch him.
"Not bad," the mutt said, looking to the four panting faces. He couldn't believe that he'd seriously considered walking out on them- they were the best thing he had in his life. "You're gettin' the hang of car surfing, Francis."
Francis raised his head proudly. Having seen that his life with Fagin really wasn't such a hardship in the big scheme of things, he was now taking great strides in catching up with his friends. Of course, it helped that Dodger was now back in the saddle and confidently taking the lead, providing the novice with the guidance to make it as a street dog.
"Hey! Hey, I thought it was you lot!" came a voice, leading all five dogs to raise their heads. Rita's face lit up as she saw the thin figure of her father trotting towards them.
"How's it goin' Storm?" Dodger asked, "Not seen you in a while."
Storm couldn't help but think that the young mutt looked a whole lot more perky than the last time he'd seen him, and Rita looked happy and relaxed too.
Rita bumped her head against her father's affectionately. "I've missed you; a whole lot's happened since I last saw you." Admittedly, it was probably her own fault she'd not run into him; she'd not made any effort to seek him out immediately after the daring rescue, being preoccupied as she was with helping Dodger pull the gang together. Things were pretty settled now, and it felt great to see Storm after several weeks. "We're good though, I'm good."
Playfully snapping at Rita's ears, Storm could tell for sure that she was different; it seemed that whatever had been troubling her for so long had been dealt with and she'd moved on after ending her relationship with Scout. Her eyes appeared brighter, less tired, and it was a relief to Storm who could only assume that she was doing fine after they hadn't bumped into one another for so long. Satisfied with the emotional state of his daughter, he looked over the rest of the gang, almost as an afterthought. "Jeez, kid! What happened to your ear?" he exclaimed, noticing the wound that Tito still carried from his encounter with the vicious Brutus.
"War wounds, man!" Tito said proudly, and he jumped forward as if to give the hound a better look. The piece that had been taken out of his ear showed no sign of healing back, and it seemed he'd be left with the nick for life. The young dog didn't much care; it was a sign, after all, of his own fighting spirit, and something to be worn with pride.
"You should have seen it! I was right in there protecting the damsel in distress!"
Rita rolled her eyes. Since the rescue, the story had been told and retold what must have been a hundred times… and Tito never did seem to remember the part where he needed to be pulled out of harm's way by the 'damsel in distress'. Between the exaggerated version of events put out by Tito, and the one put out by Dodger, it was hard to be sure exactly what did go down that night. When it came down to it, Rita didn't much care; they all got out alive and that in itself was enough.
"Someone," Rita said, shaking her head in Dodger's direction, "slightly overestimated his ability to stay clear of those dog snatchers you warned us about."
"I was taken by dog fighters!" Francis announced imperiously. Terrifying though the experience had been, it was also the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him, and considered it proof of his own rather unexpected bravery and toughness that he'd gotten away safely- even if he had had a bit of help from his friends. "You could not imagine the horror, the inhumanity! I could never have dreamed that humans, the very beings we look to in friendship, had the capability to inflict such cruelty."
Storm's jaw dropped. "You're not serious? I thought I told you to be careful, Dodger."
Dodger just scratched himself, unconcerned. "Hey, I got us outta there, didn't I? Tito put their van outta action as well, so there won't be any trouble from those creeps for a while."
"They won't be dumb enough to mess with us again!" yipped Tito. "Those fight dogs are no match for five bad pups armed with street savoir-faire!"
"I'm just glad you're safe." Storm said, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn't think for a moment that Dodger had any intention of becoming more careful in the future- if anything, he suspected the adventure had only boosted his confidence. Storm's eyes wandered back over Rita, discreetly checking for any wounds that he might have missed. She seemed perfectly fit and healthy, with just a faint shadow of a wound on her shoulder.
"I've gotta admit it," Rita said, smiling, feeling her father's concern and hoping to put him at ease. "Dodger really was something; I didn't think it would be possible, but he made sure we pulled it off and he kept us all safe. It was the scariest thing I've ever done, but somehow we did it."
"We rescued Frankie from a dark and scary basement," Einstein piped up, "They took Dodger too, but he got out and took us back so we could help. We set all the dogs free."
Storm wasn't sure if he was horrified by Dodger's recklessness and the fact that Rita had been put in harm's way as a result of it, or in awe of the audacity and courage that their rescue mission must have taken. He'd wondered what Rita had been up to, but he couldn't have imagined anything like this. He caught Dodger's eye. "It sounds like you really are something, kid," he said, "Not many dogs could have pulled a stunt like that."
Dodger found himself basking in the admiring stares of his friends. A deep affection glowed in Rita's eyes as they locked with his, and it warmed him to his core.
"So Rita," Storm said, "want to go for a run in the park? Sounds like we've got some catching up to do?"
Rita wagged her tail, excited to fill her father in on all that had happened. "I've got work to do," she said, "but I'll meet you back round here in a few hours… maybe we could raid a picnic for lunch."
Dodger was a little relieved, but didn't show it. A part of him was sore at the thought of Rita leaving them to have some bonding time with a loving parent- it was something he himself had never experienced. He knew it was something he'd had to get over; and more than his jealousy, he wanted Rita to be happy, and the friendship she had with her father seemed to do that for her.
"I can go with that," Storm said, and he turned to leave. "I'll catch ya later then, squirt. Oh, and Dodger, try not to get yourself in any trouble, all right?"
Dodger just smirked. Trouble was his middle name! He watched Storm leave and then turned back to his gang, ready to get some more trouble started. "Okay, guys, let's get goin'."
The pounding of four sets of paws behind him lifted Dodger, and he was brimming with confidence. No longer held down by the trauma his mother had put him through, Dodger was once again at one with the city, moving with the endless beat that pulsed through it, and taking every opportunity for his own advantage. He hadn't a care in the world- why should he worry? Dodger ran up to the front of a massive truck and planted his paws into the metal. He lifted his head and let out a jubilant howl.
Echoes of joyous canine voices reverberated around, bouncing off the metal and cement that lined the streets. Dodger's howls were joined by those of Tito, Rita, Francis and Einstein, and each was distinctive to his ear, further boosting the feeling of self-confidence, of belonging, that pulsed through him.
Rita leapt gracefully between taxis, throwing herself higher and further in pure joy. She had everything she'd ever wanted, and it seemed that Dodger's troubles were over, and so, hers were too. She ran to his side, her movements light and bouncy, and soon all five of them were standing together, united and unafraid of the future that they would face side by side.
Caught up in the wonderful feeling- the best he'd felt in longer than he'd care to think, Dodger knew he wasn't going to be afraid to hold onto his past- not the parts that mattered anyway. He'd taught himself how to use the city's traffic to his own advantage when he was only a tiny pup, become a bold and calculating thief- and in doing so given a new hope to the friends who did love him. He'd saved Rita from probable death twice, and given her the love she'd needed to get through the hurt from her own past. He'd turned the unlikely duo of Francis and Tito into a pair of dogs equipped to handle the mean streets of New York City. He'd made them a team, a family, and together they'd taken on a challenge beyond anything he could have imagined. Dodger knew that it was those parts of him that made him who he really was. He wasn't some sad pup, unwanted even by his own mother; he was Dodger, New York's coolest quadruped and leader of the city's finest dog gang. And that, he knew, was just the beginning of their story.