There was no turning back now.
"What did you do!?" Rocky cried, running outside into the yard as panic surged in his veins. He only became further distraught upon seeing Chase's unconscious body next to the car. "Why did you do that!? You didn't need to do that!"
Dakota merely shrugged off his brother's words, his cold expression never once slipping. "Would you relax? Cops never just leave, I figured you knew that already."
"You didn't know that!" Rocky barked, his voice shaking at the sight of his partner. "You didn't know anything he was about to do!"
"Ugh, what's it to you?" Dakota said with a sneer, flashing Rocky an irritated look. "Didn't you tell me a while back you wanted all of them to burn?"
Rocky's heart sank as his own words were thrown back at him. "I- I did say that, but that was before-" he stopped, voice freezing as he realized what he was about to say.
His brother narrowed his eyes at him. "Before what?"
Under the larger dog's intimidating gaze, Rocky felt cornered. All he had to do was say Chase was his boyfriend, so why couldn't he? For reasons he couldn't explain; Rocky felt an unbelievable fear of revealing such a thing right now. Abandoning his suspended words, he hung his head in shame. "Nothing… sorry."
Dakota looked at him up and down, trying to read his brother like a condemned novel. He could smell something was up, but he let it slide as he prepared their course of action. "Well then load him onto my back, we can't keep him here."
A storm of guilt washed over Rocky every second he gripped Chase's limb body. "Where are we taking him?" He asked, hoisting the shepherd up.
"The same place I took Zuma, now come on."
Before the dumbfounded puppy could say another word, With their newest prisoner in tow; Dakota led into the overgrown, filth-ridden forest that surrounded the shack. The trees stood like dark towers, the branches extending out and clamping their thin fingers around one another. The whole place was a scene straight from a horror movie, the exact place some idiot would wander into and get murdered six minutes later. Rocky stuck close to his brother as they walked, unable to hide his frantic shivering as the trees watched him. His gaze couldn't seem to leave Chase as he was carried, a sickening feeling rising within him.
"What happened back there," Dakota said after a while. "Can't happen again, you hesitating like that."
"I just… I knew him, that was all." Rocky's guilt tracked him in his step, shrinking under the disapproving glares of the branches. The whole damned forest seemed alive, reading Rocky's sins and showering him with their shameful leaves.
His brother didn't look at the trees - debatable if he even saw them at all - not caring to meet their judging gazes. "Well, the harshest betrayals come from those we trust." He said coldly. "The important part is finding who to trust in the first place."
"Can I trust you?" Rocky dared to ask.
Dakota completely stopped in his tracks, standing still as if he was merely listening to the trees rustling. Then he took a deep breath, and slowly turned his head to face Rocky. His eye twitched for a fraction of a second, leering down at his sibling. With an unnerving lack of emotion, Dakota stared into the frightful dog below him. "Of course you can," he said, gritting his teeth for a second. "After all, who else do you have?" Rocky had no time to say anything before Dakota sharply turned forward again. His eyes flicked to Chase briefly, frowning as he followed behind.
"Sometimes you have to do things that aren't pretty." Dakota said, his tone noticeably growing colder. "Maybe you're sending a message; maybe it's for the greater good; regardless, you have to learn when something is necessary in the grand scheme of things."
"I guess I know that," Rocky said nervously. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Well, you just helped me assault a police officer, so you're certainly a stray now. The real fun starts here, I promise."
Rocky's blood ran cold, his eyes widening while his heart sunk into his chest. Powerful dread ate into his mind, ripping apart memories of all he once knew. Vast reflections, -albeit a little distorted-began to shuffle in his mind: Ryder, Marshall, Skye, Rubble, even Zuma to an extent. Hundreds of missions, hundreds of stories, all slowly burning in his mind.
"And if you're there," Dakota continued. "Then I should probably be honest with you about something." He looked aside for a moment, before shrugging and continuing their travels. "Although I wouldn't be surprised if you figured this out already. Those nine dogs; the one's in the news?"
"The… murder victims?"
"There's no murder in war, Rocky." His brother chuckled darkly. "You have no idea who those dogs were and what they did. Putting them down was a service for the entirety of Adventure Bay. The Yorkie; Wendy, she publicly spoke in favor of building a dog salon over on a certain corner of Adventure Bay."
Rocky cocked his head, confusion on his face. "So? What's wrong with that?"
"The salon itself? Nothing." Dakota said, "it's the place she was planning on building it; the corner at the end of Jacinto street, a place where homeless strays had been sleeping for years. I'm telling you; she knew they were there, and wanted to get rid of them so she could place some flashy beauty salon for herself." He scoffed at the thought. "She had always been an avid supporter of the anti-homeless. And the Dalmatian; Fernia, she was some rich chick who had an affair with a stray. Once her mate found out, she lied on the spot; claiming the stray had raped her and was actively blackmailing her to keep quiet."
He turned to his brother, proposing a question. "Fernia was a rich dog, Rocks, and a very pretty Dalmatian. How could anyone believe she wasn't telling the truth?" His voice bled with sarcasm, spitting at the story. "No one ever believes the stray, the dog that stank of drugs and an unkempt coat. He was imprisoned without ever having a chance to publicly speak out for himself, not that it would've mattered; cause no one cared to listen to him."
An uneasy feeling was growing in Rocky's stomach, his concerns still on Chase's wellbeing. The violent action of his brother attacking the shepherd haunted his memories.
"That collar you're wearing?" Dakota flicked the tag of Rocky's collar with his paw. "That belonged to a puppy called Anneto."
"Wait, this belonged to a puppy?" His brother flinched, fur standing on end.
"Indeed. He was one of those shitheads who thought they were internet celebrities, and would film himself doing… whatever. But one of said things involved harassing the homeless." A sharp growl came through Dakota's teeth. "Little fucker gave dog treats laced with toothpaste to strays, and filmed their reactions. You would not believe the catharsis of taking a dog like that and slowly bleeding him dry. And yet, he wasn't even the worst one."
"You know an awful lot about these victims." Rocky flicked at his collar, mentally cringing at the thought of receiving it from a dead body.
As if he had received the most genuine compliment to grace his ears, Dakota smiled and fluffed out his mangled fur. "Well, why do you think?" His mouth twisted into a sinister grin, and he leaned forward with a dark chuckle. "I was there."
Rocky's eyes widened slightly, not understanding what his brother had said. Slowly the words floated in his head, until it finally clicked. A wave of terror struck his body, his tail retreating underneath him as he stared up at the towering dog. "Y- you…" Rocky took a single step back, his flight instinct beginning to twitch his paws.
"Awe, don't be scared of me, Rocks." Dakota waved off, like his brother's fearful reaction was supposed to be a compliment. "Dogs like Fernia, Wendy, Anneto, and all the other ones; they never get in trouble for what they do. Either because they're rich and make the city money, or because they're simply too beautiful and have an army of fans to hang off their word. You can't speak out against them, that would be suicide. You need to bend the rules, or cross them entirely, most of the systems are corrupt anyway. It takes dogs like me to put these monsters down, they were by no means innocent victims."
"You…" Rocky was still frozen in place, shaking before the killer. "You really-"
"What? I what?" His brother was growing agitated. "Is it so hard to believe, Rocks?" He lowered his head to meet him at eye-level, speaking with a flat tone. "I killed them, so be it." he said, flashing a smile. "And if your PAW Patrol friends had just… done their fuckin' research on who they were, they'd probably understand why I did it."
In a grim point of perspective, his words made sense. His mind screamed at him to run, but a piece of himself found fascination in his brother's ideologies. Fascination? His mind spat at the word, what in the world was he doing? He was standing before a serial killer, the alarms were blaring for him to run while he still could.
But he didn't. "Maybe we… would." Rocky said absently, staring at his brother. Uncertainty clouded his mind, his body had no clue what to do in this situation. "But you still…. Dakota you still murdered them!" He barked desperately, "those were nine dogs with lives, dreams, families! How could you do this?!" He had no clue why he was attempting to talk sense into a killer, or more importantly; why he was still trying.
"I already told you why," Dakota hissed. "Listen when I talk next time."
Rocky walked away slightly, staring at the ground as frustration brewed within him. "I… I was listening to you. But if these dogs were corrupt, there were probably other ways we could've exposed them!" He whipped around to face the serial killer. "Hell, I could've helped you! You didn't have to just… go in and kill them!"
Although he was initially keeping his cool, Dakota's patience was beginning to slip. "Expose them, how!? Did you ever see the followings they had, or their popularity? Who knows how many people probably tried to speak up, only to get smothered by an angry mob of fans or silenced by the media! It was a losing game, Rocks, and the only way to win was to break the rules!"
"But then what was Zuma!?" Rocky demanded, his voice growing frantic in his protest.
"That was me doing a favor for my brother, first of all." The stray pointed. "But it also, inadvertently, highlights one of the most hilarious cases of irony I've ever seen. Not even the fucking PAW Patrol is free from corruption, can you imagine if it got out that Zuma was a rapist?" His sly grin formed again, twisted acts on his mind. "It would destroy him, and would open up investigations on the other dogs as well. Of course, you would be long gone by this point." He said, suddenly bouncing through the bushes as he raced ahead.
"Gone?" The mix said with a puzzled look, but his sibling had already jumped out of view. In his few moments alone, he felt his philosophies get turned on their heads.
Dakota was a murderer: A dog that savagely took nine lives with no remorse for what would come after. Lives that had families, legacies, ambitions, now all laid to ruin. Parents, friends, and children of the victims would receive devastating news, their own lives falling to darkness in their grief. Holes would sink into their hearts that could never be filled again, personally carved by Dakota himself.
Dakota was his brother: A remnant of the family he left behind so many years ago. After they were left in the streets to fend for themselves, Dakota had every opportunity to drop his brother in the streets and run. Rocky's eyes weren't even open yet, being nothing but a grey ball of fur carried in the mouth of his only sibling. The window presented itself, but not once was Rocky abandoned. Dakota spent months educating his brother, teaching him how to survive and protecting him with everything he had. Rocky assumed he would find a better life with the PAW Patrol; until he was outcasted, all friendships broken while he was left to rot. Even in his mangled state of mind, Dakota was right there, ready to support his brother and guide him along.
Brother, murderer, brother, murderer. His mind and heart screamed at each other as they tugged at his emotions, forming a chaotic cloud of static that screeched in his ears. He was exactly what he needed all this time, Dakota knew how to throw him the lifeline, carrying him away from darkness and back into family.
Until Chase came into the picture.
How longingly his heart bled for Chase; the one dog he'd drop everything for, not that he had much to begin with. Between them was more than an accidental kiss in the Lookout, a thought that put him in a state of unease. With Dakota's looming shadow over Adventure Bay, ready to unite more strays into his twisted operations, he was the picture-perfect example of what Chase swore to prevent. Turmoil bubbled within him, a sickening crawl churning in his stomach to make him dizzy. Unable to stop the panic scratching up his spine, Rocky whimpered and jumped after Dakota.
He caught up with him just as they were leaving the forest, a smell of rust and rotted metal was lingering in the air. "What do you mean 'gone'?" His eyes automatically trailed over to Chase, feeling silent anguish at his incapacitated state.
"Well of course, when all is said and done," Dakota explained, "you won't be here anymore. I'll be taking you with me, to wherever we're going next. I figured that's what you wanted, to finally escape this hell that's been torturing you for so long." His words made Rocky go silent; whatever answer he probably had wasn't coming out. It was a simple concept, Dakota thought, he knew full well how desperately his brother wanted an escape, and he'd be the one to give it.
Breaking through the walls of leaves and emerging into a field, Rocky was taken aback by the sight before him: An abandoned sugar factory, sitting like a gigantic monument to stain the ground. For ages, the rotted landmark had been hidden in the depths of Adventure Bay's forests, the city selfishly turning their backs on fixing it up. It was nearly twice the height of the Lookout, and stretched out for miles on the field; groping its structures and mills along the land. Its exterior had melted into a rusted orange, baked dry under decades of sunlight, blackened rot leaking from the broken windows. The stench of rotted sugar met Rocky's nose, and a grainy, sticky substance was crunching under his paws.
Starstruck by the might of the forgotten building, Rocky's train of thought slipped from his mind. He met up with his brother as his eyes trailed up the towering walls. "Why… are we here?"
"Well firstly, it's where I took Zuma." Dakota explained, annoyance in his tongue as he shifted Chase on his back. "May as well keep them all in one place. Secondly, it's probably the greatest example of Adventure Bay abandoning those it has no use for. This mill used to be a whole landmark until they pulled funding from it, now it's just… here. Whole place has rotted to hell and back."
"I've never seen this place before." Rocky sniffed the ground, shaking sugar particles off his paws.
"The more people that see this shithole, the more they'll know of what this city does to the poor." His brother snarled. "Now help me get him inside the mill."
His body moving on autopilot, Rocky wordlessly assisted his sibling with invading the old structure. He barely glanced at anything crossing his path, his head swirling with insistence and denial. Rocky couldn't deny the countless times he had damned Adventure Bay, such curses hung over his head and stuck to him like a hex. There was no point in lying about something like that, but now a part of him was looking in a direction he hadn't before.
Dakota was family, bound by blood since the day they were born. Family was forever, a quote that danced in Rocky's fractured mind as he walked, he had always figured he'd never leave his brother's side. For years his brother had cemented the ideology that were to stick together, that the world was a terrible, twisted place unforgiving to the unprepared. Countless times he had lullabied his brother with low ramblings of hatred for those around him. Rocky believed it all, as he was raised to, never fully able to be with others without a quiver of uncertainty. If anything, Zuma only reinforced this, acting as the smoking gun for Dakota to smirk and gloat about being right.
But Chase was part of his life now too. A German shepherd that never once lied to him, used him, or cast him aside like the others had. Could there still be time, Rocky thought as his heartbeat quickened every second he watched Dakota drag the officer's body. Was it truly meant to be? Was there still time to make a change? Could it be possible, even the slightest bit, that Dakota was wrong about something?
