Earlier that day in North Dakota

Everest walked home from her night with Chase. Even on the train ride home, she couldn't shake out the image of the small pup she saw in the mountains, crippled with fear and sadness. Whenever Everest began to think about the kind of pain and trauma that pup must have been through, Everest started to shiver from her back all around her canine body. She was ashamed of not only of her country, the nation she swore to uphold and protect, but mostly herself. She beat herself up continuously for not realizing it sooner.

"STUPID STUPID STUPID, IM SO FUCKING STUPID!" Everest said to herself through her teeth trying not to shout out loud because she was in a neighborhood that she didn't want to wake up and make herself look like a lunatic, shouting at herself. Everest kicked and kept kicking a little pebble chipped off from the asphalt road until she came face to face with her front door. Everest grabbed the handle and went into, flipping on the light to reveal a well-decorated home. But Everest couldn't help but feel like this was built on the backs of innocents.

Everest took a small vase that was on the nearest table and looked at a small square sticker on the front of it. The vase had a bundle of roses and dandelions mixed together to give a colorful sight. It was clear this was a gift from someone.

'To My Dearest, From Chase, Im Himmel füreinander gemacht'

Everest clenched the gift from the German Shepherd and without hesitation, threw it across the room, making the ceramic decoration impact the wall, making the flowers and water inside spill all over the flower. Everest started to pant from the enormous amount of rage that was coursing through her veins at that point. Everest didn't know what to do now, she didn't want to go back and work for a horrible cause. She thought she ignored it, but it was all over. Everest then accidentally stepped on a newspaper on the ground.

Without even taking a closer look, the top headline of the newspaper pictured a group of dead men and women piled into a small trench. Everest couldn't believe she was so blind, the Nazis glorified their killings like a hunter putting a deer mount above a fireplace. Everest picked up the article and crumbled it down to a small prickly ball and threw it out the window. She couldn't take it. She wanted to run away but there was nowhere she could run to. The Nazis control almost all of the continent. Except for one place...

"The Neutral Zone..." She whispered, getting the idea. Everest ran upstairs and retrieved a map of the entire continent in her room. She laid down the entire map over her bed and began looking at it closer. Going to the Pacific States wasn't really a good option either for her as Everest started to eye the Pacific State of California.

"I'd rather get raped in a labor camp by a moose than go to that shithole," Everest said to herself. She went through looking into the more rural countryside of the nation. The Neutral Zone was perfect, the only real thing that held her back was the amount of violence within those borders, but she was sure she could handle that.

"Alright, Neutral Zone, here I come," Everest folded the map and stuffed it into a backpack she had, and also carried some other things for her long journey. Water canteen, knife, clothing, medical packs, etc. Everest put on a brown fluffy hoodie for extra concealment as well. As Everest put it on, she eyed in the corner of the room a small safe. Everest walked over and opened the safe to retrieve a handgun she was allowed to keep for technical self-defense. She strapped the gun to her side just in case before grabbing her backpack and leaving. She didn't want to leave a lot, so she broke whatever she could, most of it in pure anger. After she was done with that, she took large suitcases and luggage bags outside in her backyard and burnt them. Throwing other things also in the fire.

"Goodbye," She opened up a folder of photos and started dumping them into the blaze, casting them away. One Photo fell out right next to the fire, one picture of her parents when she was little, giving a Nazi Salute as a pup in a very enthusiastic way. This felt like something for sure Everest wanted to get rid of, but she just picked it up and stuffed it into her hoodie. When she felt like the fire would be strong enough, Everest left her now deserted house, she left her life, she left the Reich, she left Chase.

Tracker and Skye made it back from Utah with their blood money, Tracker with his Mosin Nagant and Skye walking right beside him. She yawned from the exhaustion, covering her mouth with her paw.

"You do this all the time?" Skye asked barely able to keep her eyes fully open from the aftermath of their journey.

"Yeah, it's pretty hard considering I'm risking everything," He said.

"You know...I don't think you're a bad guy, you're just in a bad position with cold choices."

"Maybe...Maybe not," Tracker appreciated the kind showing words from the cockapoo, but he had to be honest with himself. Was he really a good guy? This was something he needed to think about later. Tracker and Skye both stepped up to the front door of his cabin and went inside.

When inside, Tracker was greeted with a buttstock to the face. Before Skye could help him or even realize what was going on, she was tied down and a thin line of tape was strapped over her mouth, preventing her from screaming or talking, all she could do was mumble out unintelligible words. Skye looked over to her side and saw she was staring down the barrel of a pistol in front of her face.

Tracker was held down to the ground and his Mosin Nagant sniper was detached from his side and taken away. Tracker growled at the knowing whoever was doing this, might have already killed his son.

"Überprüfe ihn (Check him)" One of the home intruders ordered another, Tracker was brought up and was able to clearly see what was going on. He saw four masked individuals. One was holding down Skye with a gun to her head, another was checking around the room for weapons, the other was patting down Tracker for more guns or anything else, and the last was just aiming his gun at Tracker, making sure he didn't move.

"Well go ahead, Kill me," Tracker shouted, thinking that he just wanted to get it over with.

"Quick to embrace death Mr. Tracker, very bold," A confident voice came from the kitchen area, which made Tracker's ears go up in surprise, thinking there was another. What came around the Corner was a Formal Looking German Shepherd with a glass of vodka in his paws. It was Chase.

"Do I know you?" Tracker asked out.

"No, so let's start right now. My name is Chase, and I'm a section commander at Camp Anchorage," Chase stuck his paw out as if he were wishing for a friendly greeting instead of a hostile one. Tracker just growled and spat on his suit, Chase looked at the saliva mark but just didn't pay mind to that.

"Better watch yourself there, with one word I can make your girlfriend's brains paint the walls," Chase pointed out. Tracker didn't even bother to correct him on Skye not being his girlfriend. Tracker just looked at Skye and thought that it wasn't worth it. Tracker eased up and concealed his growl, but didn't have a happy face.

"That's what I thought. Now I want to discuss something with you," Chase turned around and walked over to the dining table where he took a seat. Tracker, still with a gun to his head, took a seat as well.

"Now… You're a Bounty Hunter, you find people."

"Yeah...and?"

Chase reached into his suit and pulled out a thin piece of paper which was revealed to be a photo. He slid it over to Tracker right in front of him to see. The Chihuahua took up the photo and looked at it to see it was just a pick of a female Husky.

"You want me to kill her?"

"Hell No, she ran away from the Reich and I want you to find her and bring her back to me." Chase pointed out. Tracker had been used to killing so much that the term 'bring back alive' was barely in his mind.

"And what do I get out of it?" Tracker asked, in obvious bounty hunter fashion.

"I was going to say 'How about I don't kill your girlfriend and son,' but I guess you'll deserve something for all your effort," The sudden mention of this German Shepherd bringing Tracker's son into the conversation, made Tracker's blood boil. He clenched his paws in anger but he tried to keep himself calm, knowing that any wrong move can result in Tony and Skye's death.

"So you want money, guns, women?" Chase listed off the options, nothing really stood out to him that much, until the person holding Skye brought her own and removed the tape from her muzzle.

"I want something," Skye said.

Chase looked at her and smiled. "Good, What is it?"

"His name is Marshall. He's a Dalmation that got arrested back in Roswell, New Mexico. If we get you her, I want him back." Skye said with not much of a suggestion, but more of demand in her tone of voice. Chase seemed like this was a fair trade, an eye of an eye.

"Yeah, I can arrange that," The German Shepherd said drinking the shot of vodka he had gotten from the kitchen.

"By the way, aren't you the wanted fugitive?" Chase brought up, Skye stayed quiet up hearing this pop-up. Just from Skye's facing expression and sudden silence, Chase knew it was indeed the same person wanted all over the Reich.

"Never thought a wanted fugitive with a bounty on her head would seek protection from one of the most devoted bounty hunters in the Neutral Zone. This place never ceases to amaze me," Chase brushed off and leftover to the front door.

"You have a week to find her, don't worry about contacting us too, we'll contact you," Chase motioned his paws for his men to follow with his departure. With a simple command, all four of the armed guards left through the front door. With them gone, Tracker ran over his son's room and opened the door to see him on his bed crying.

"Daddy!"

"It's alright Tony, I'm here. What happened, what did they do to you?" Tracker asked, hugging his pup tightly.

"Th-They burst into the door, and...and pointed their guns at me then forced me into my room," He exclaimed with tears rolling down his furry cheek. Tracker just hugged him even tighter and rubbed his fur in an assuring way.

"Unit Cells 15 to 43. Exit into the cafeteria. Comply with correctional officers or you will be shot"A low voice came over the intercom of the Federal Prison, giving strict and clear instructions for the inmates to leave their cells and walk themselves to the cafeteria. There was no need to be escorted to the cafeteria by a Guard or a number of them since the hallways they walked through were thin and a Guards were able to watch their every move through CCTV.

A long line of convicts made a straight line and just walked through the hallway. Rocky couldn't help but just look around the halls. Even though it was a thin space and not much to see. There were so many horrifying details. Like stained blood on the walls and ceiling along with small cracks in the concrete.

Within a minute of pacing in a line. They reached the cafeteria where it truly was a huge place. Rocky didn't know what this was going to be like so he just followed everyone else like a sheep blindly following the herd. Each prisoner was given a metal tray for their food, and just like the vibe of the prison and its environments, the food wasn't any better. The mashed goop looked like it was pulled from the local sewer.

Rocky tried to suck it up and deal with the very unappealing look of the food, but the smell just made him want to starve and die in a hole. For sure the thought wasn't going to be any better whatsoever. When Rocky took his food and sat himself down at a table, the static from the radio came into presence.

"Velico McClellan, 26 Years, Drug Possession"

"Tony Rellion, 15 Years, Theft"

"Alan Skallee, 92 years, Murder"

"Who's that?" Rocky asked himself, fortunately, someone beside him was there to answer his question.

"New here? I can tell huh, they usually tell out loud everyone's sentence and crime, supposed to make us feel ashamed I guess," The guy clearly didn't want to get deep into his explanation and just went back to eating the 'food' given by the Prison.

"Donald Peerland, 41 Years, Multiple Gun Possessions"

"Kelly Banks, 11 Years, Flag Desecration"

"Rocky McKlaus, 18 Years, Homosexuality"

Rocky cringed the hearing of his crime and the genuine embarrassment he was feeling When it was announced over the Intercom of his crime. Rocky immediately started getting looks of disgust and anger. The mixed-breed tried to avoid eye contact by ducking his head down to the table, in hopes everyone would just brush it off and forget about it, but that didn't work at all.

"So… I'd call you a cocksucker, but I think that would turn you on,'' One Person Commented walking up to Rocky with his arms crossed and his looking down at the canine. Rocky didn't Growl and show any form of him wanting to engage, because he knew he couldn't fight worth a damn.

"I uhh-" Rocky just opened his mouth, not really knowing what to say first.

"Faggot!" Someone shouted across the room at Rocky, Rocky had a number of emotions being bottled up inside him, anger, fear, sadness, and more. Words don't hurt, but these felt like they could kill in Rocky's mind.

"Taste this piece of shit," Another person who comes close to Rocky can judge his crotch area in Rocky's face as an insult to his different sexual orientation. Rocky was getting very annoyed and could handle it anymore. It wasn't long for this to turn physical as one person took a handful of the gooey 'food' from Rocky's tray and smeared it on the side of his face. Rocky retaliated by bearing his teeth and biting down on the man's arm.

The man grunted in pain as he fell to the floor, other prisoners crowded around the two but also kept their distance as they didn't want to get involved. Rocky kept his sharp grip on his forearm before the man yanked his arm in a violent arm from back to back. This caused Rocky to lose his grip and send him flying and hitting another table ten feet away. Rocky's head violently bucked the edge of another eating table which was metal. He knew it hurt like hell, but so much adrenaline was pumping through him, he didn't even notice it.

Rocky got up and darted back at his opponent and bit down on his legs, he screamed out in pain and he fell to the ground and started to plead for help. Fortunately for him, help came, but not in the form of former inmates. Five prison guards rushing in with Non-Lethal weapons and extra body armor. One of the uniformed feds saw Rocky biting down on the man's leg and shot him directly in the side with a shock rifle; which was basically a stronger variant of a normal taser with a long-range and increased shock. The barbs penetrate Rocky's fur and skin, sending strong electric shocks through his body. Rocky let go and collapsed motionless on the ground and the shocks from the barbs contorted his muscles.

"EVERYONE, BACK AWAY!" One correctional officer said aiming his shock rifle indiscriminately at the large crowd of prisoners in orange overalls. All of them back away with their hands and paws in the air, showing the badge units they were not a threat. Two of them presented Rocky against the floor and started to handcuff him and drag him out of the room.

"Kein Ort für Gewalt in einem Gefängnis, ich wette, dieser Köter bekommt einen Transfer" (No place for violence in a prison, I bet this mutt gets a transfer) One of the guards that were whisking Rocky away commented to his other colleague.

"Ich weiß nicht, endlich ist es ziemlich unterhaltsam, diese Ausrüstung zu benutzen" (I dunno, Finally getting to use this gear is pretty entertaining) The other replied. Rocky's muscles were still twitching from the shocks as he was being dragged with no regard to his non-existent civil rights.

In a small dark room was a Dalmation, endless staring at the wall from a tight corner. Marshall was just contemplating his life as he slowly waited for his transfer to a labor camp where he'd be working 24/7 around the clock in grueling conditions. Marshall knew death was around the corner and he couldn't avoid it, so he accepted it and started to think beyond death. Will he end up somewhere good, will he meet his owners in Heaven? Will he see Ryder again?

Marshall's thoughts were suddenly taken from him as the peak slide from the metal door of the Small dark cell slide opened. A pair of eyes looked through at Marshall before opening up the door entirely. Marshall turned around and looked at the sudden beams of light shining on him from a flashlight. Marshall knew this was a guard, but something was off.

"Fifteen minutes, make it quick," The guard said to someone else as he walked away to attend to something else. Before Marshall could think of what was happening, the silhouette of a broad canine came into view. Marshall saw this and squinted his eyes to try and make out who it was.

"Good Day Marshall Schmidt. How are you?" A Deep Voice made itself known to be Chase.

"Who are you?"

"Don't worry about it, but just know that I can get you out of here and with your fugitive friend."

"Fugitive friend?"

"Skye… I can take you to her," Chase offered almost nicely, but Marshall knew something wasn't right.

"You're a damn liar," Marshall backed away from him, refusing to believe the words that came from his mouth.

"I'm not lying, in fact, I can say she's safe and sound in the Neutral Zone. Even got a bounty hunter to be with her," Chase stated.

"I want someone retrieved for me and she wanted you in return."

"So I'm a reward?"

"That's Right."

"So why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to do something for me."