(Part 2)
Current evidence has come to the conclusion that roughly 23,000 years ago, the first pet dog was domesticated by the Ancient North Eurasians. Since then, the furry canines have become more than simple wolves, taking a new, relaxed life in the care of their owners. As time went on, dogs as an animal species gained new meaning, leaving the wrath of nature to be man's best friend. It's an interesting thought to wonder if animals today still carry old instincts within them, waiting to break free when the time is right. There was no better circumstance for this phenomenon than taking a dog from its warm home and tossing them back into the merciless wild.
The sun was gently rising over the horizon, bathing the canyon in a warm morning. Lurking in the bushes, Marshall stared through the slitted grass at his prey. A large rat was digging in the dirt in front of him. Waking up early, the Dalmation slipped away from the sleeping Gasket to try and find food. He'd been sitting still for hours, stirring in anxiety as ants moved over his tail. It was far from easy, and his bright white fur wasn't making it any simpler, he at least tried to cover it with more mud to further hide himself. It wasn't his first attempt at trying to catch something, his face was dirtied and disheveled from failed pounces on fleeing rodents. Narrowing his eyes, he was determined to bring in even the smallest morsel. It was difficult enough chasing after Gasket and convincing her to not wander off, as the Husky was defiant by nature.
Tapping his paws silently in the dirt, freezing up his body for a solid two seconds, Marshall lunged out of the bushes, pushing off from the dirt. Honing on his prey, he held his paws forward and slammed them into his target. It was a solid miss, the rat turned with a surprised squeak and began speeding off. Refusing to give up, Marshall rolled back onto his paws and gave chase, snarling after the fleeing animal as he threw himself through the plants in his way. His mind went back to when he'd play "Keep Away" with Chase and Rocky, each dog trying to grab a ball and evade the other two. Whenever he gave pursuit into the other players, they would usually run in straight lines, causing Marshall to utilize a strategy of jumping into their path and cutting off his target.
Coming up on the rodent's left side, running as fast as his damaged legs would take him, the rat quickly turned right to dodge him.
The exact direction of the river.
The rat ran out into the sand, then quickly hit the brakes as it came to the water, realizing its path was blocked. Fearfully darting its gaze around for a detour, Marshall swiftly clamped his jaws into the rat's head, dragging it into the air and flinging it around with all his might. Closing his mouth with all the force he could muster, he crunched through the rodent's neck, killing it instantly. Letting the dead animal drop into the sand, Marshall took a moment to breathe from the exertion, a wave of triumph washing over him.
Gasket was sitting on the ground when Marshall returned carrying the kill, her eyes drowsy and tired.
"How'd you sleep?" The Dalmation dropped the rat at her paws. The Husky just mumbled an answer, not meeting his gaze. Taking a deep breath, knowing he could get through this, he tried to brighten her a little. "I brought you something to eat."
She flicked her eyes on the rat, "oh, a dead rodent," she grimaced, "how appetizing."
"I mean, we are dogs," Marshall pointed, lowering himself down on his belly, "if we can eat grass and our own vomit, we can probably eat a rat."
"Ugh," she recoiled slightly, "you're disgusting,"
"So what do you eat normally? Junk food out of trash cans?"
"At least it's food."
"Gasket, just eat the damn rat," Marshall sighed, "I went and caught the thing for you."
He could see her eyes flick to the ground for a moment, but still she remained tense. Sighing to himself, the Dalmation turned to let her eat in peace. Gasket watched him go, glancing at the food he provided for her, "you're… not gonna eat any?"
"It's for you," he said simply, not turning around, "I'm not hungry."
The biker dog sat in silent disbelief. It was an odd gesture to show such generosity, the exact opposite of what she knew from the Ruff Ruff Pack. Hubcap always stole the best meals for himself, leaving little to nothing for her or Dwayne. The Great Dane didn't mind, probably because he had so few brain cells he couldn't comprehend he was being stolen from. All she did was tell herself she was losing weight, and soon she learned to accept it. Frowning, she nudged the rat with her paw. Her stomach was empty, rumbling audibly as a hollow feeling came over her. Her eyes turned soft and her ear lowered as she felt guilty, knowing it was probably the only morsel of food they'd have in a while.
Relaxing, she leaned down and gipped her teeth into the rat's side. Keeping her paws steady on the body, she began to rip off its skin, tearing through into the meat. She didn't want to eat it, but she was starving and couldn't bear disrespecting Marshall's gift. No one had ever given her a gift before, and she regretted mouthing off to the Dalmatian. After eating through to its ribs, Gasket ran her tongue over her lips, stained red from the blood of a rat. As hungry as she was, the biker knew well what she had to do now.
Marshall was sitting in the sand, idly looking out into the river. Gasket slowly limped out under the sun, holding the rat in her mouth. Looking to the ground in guilt for a moment, she hobbled forward to his side.
"Hey, um," she said, gently placing it down on his white paws.
The Dalmation flicked his gaze to the side at her, "what is it?"
"I thought, maybe you'd want the rest?" She shyly offered, nudging the body over.
"I said I wasn't hungry."
"Yeah I know, but…" the Husky shrugged, "I feel like a jerk."
Marshall felt his own irritation fade away, realizing that Gasket truly did have some good qualities. Tapping his paw in the sand, he let his gaze rest on a bird that was picking things out of the water. The wind gently blew in the trees around them, letting the leaves dance above the dogs in blissful harmony.
"It's okay," Marshall sighed, "after what happened up there… I don't blame you."
"Am I going to be arrested when we get out of here?" She asked, anxiously running her paw over her white hair. Gasket was unique in she grew out the fur on her head, shaping it into a punk hairstyle.
The Dalmation winced as he spoke, knowing the truth of the situation, "probably. I'll… I'll try to talk to Chase. Maybe he'll let you off easy."
"Assuming we ever get out of here," she said, grumbling as she remembered the vicious fight that had taken place on the road. As the memory returned, the Husky jolted as she recalled climbing into Marshall's fire engine, and almost met a brutal death falling off.
"So," she started, "thanks for… saving me back there."
"From the rocks?"
"No, before all that," she gently looked over at him, guiltily gazing into his blue eyes, "I almost fell and… you saved me."
"Of course I did," Marshall said with a shrug, "that's all the Paw Patrol was ever meant to do, save and help others."
"Didn't look like it yesterday,"
"Chase has gone crazy," the Dalmation growled, "he always thinks we need to evolve, go above and beyond as if what we already do for the city wasn't enough."
"I kinda know what you mean," Gasket admitted, "Hubcap has been driving us a little far too. At first, it was just… road craziness, but now he's pushing us to commit actual crimes. Dwayne's an idiot," she shook her head, "I swear, I'm the only sensible one."
"I guess that makes you the better of the three," Marshall chuckled, "how did you survive the fall anyway? I saw you fly out."
The Husky paled a little, recalling the terrifying experience of plummeting down the canyon, "I… landed in the river. A lot of rocks fell in too, one almost landed on me. The current took me downstream," she muttered in a pained voice, "I guess all those rocks collected in one spot, and I crashed into them. Before I climb up, a boulder smashed into my back, and I was pinned."
Frowning at her words, Marshall scooted a little closer to the Husky, leaning in a little as he spoke softly, "I'm… sorry you had to go through that."
Gasket understood little of the feelings coming over here. For the first dog in the world to show her genuine kindness, she began to see Marshall in a new, warmer light. Choosing to avoid the emotions for now, decided to change the subject. With a soft smile, she nudged over the rat's carcass.
"I'm serious, you need to get something in your stomach," she insisted, "you need the strength."
Marshall looked down at the rat he killed, unable to ignore his own pangs of hunger. He raised an eyebrow at his companion, "fine, but only if you let me tend to your injuries."
Gasket drew her one ear back, bristling, "you're still not gonna leave me alone about that?"
"Is that a yes or no?" Marshall said, standing up.
Growling to himself, Gasket bit back a retort. She was more comfortable keeping her needs to herself, but she could see Marshall was persistent, also unwilling to accept her own gift lest she abided by him. Rolling her eyes, she hung her head in defeat, and Marshall smirked knowingly. "Fine," she finally said, "just don't touch my stomach."
The Dalmation rolled his eyes, holding out his paw in a beckoning gesture. With a slightly embarrassed expression, Gasket sat back and placed her arms onto his. Smiling at her cooperation, Marshall looked to the river and bent down to dip his paw into the water. They were sitting beside a rather shallow section of it, allowing the Dalmation to freely feel around the riverbed.
The biker watched in confusion, "what… are you doing?"
"Looking around for some mud, or clay, or moss maybe," he said, searching with his paw, "not the best thing to treat cuts, but it'll do."
"I wasn't going to agree to this if I knew you were just gonna slather me in mud," she grumbled.
"Hey, it worked for me."
He scooped out a dripping wad of orange soil, Gasket grimaced in disgust as she felt her arms get covered in wet sludge, "aah- that's… cold,"
"Just relax," Marshall said softly as he applied it.
"You're not putting that on my face."
"Well, you're in luck, because I don't really have anything to treat your missing ear," he admitted, relieved he was able to wash his paw by dipping it in the water. "For that, I'll need a lot more than river clay. Now lay on your side."
Aghast, the Husky stared at him in shock, "my… side?"
"That's what I said."
"Oh no no," she backed up a few steps, narrowing her eyes, "I know exactly what you're doing, back off!"
"What?"
"You trying to trick me, huh?" She bristled, "get me in a compromising position?"
The Dalmation blinked, confused at her wording, "Gasket, I need to take care of your paw, remember? Your back, right one?"
"And why do I need to lie on my side for that?" She demanded.
Her partner came forward, visible agitation on his face, "so you don't have to awkwardly sit, holding up your legs like last time?"
Gasket stood for a few seconds, squinting his eyes at him in an attempt to read him. The Dalmation sounded sincere, but plenty of traumatic experiences were leaving her hesitant to lower herself in such a position. Even then, she knew he was right, and she hated more than anything how much he was right.
"Alright," she said slowly, tilting her head, "fine. But if you touch me anywhere I don't like, I will tear your throat open," she spat the threat.
Hearing the implication, Marshall was taken aback, "I wasn't… I wasn't going to do anything like that!" He held his paws up defensively, "I'm just trying to-"
"I know, I know," Gasket deflated, "just… just get it over with."
She sat backward and laid down, letting herself roll over onto her side. Content, Marshall carefully approached her, noticing right away she was avoiding eye contact. She loathed exposing her underbelly and quickly pulled her tail over it to cover herself, even though Marshall was only looking at her paws.
The Dalmation lowered himself onto his belly and gently nudged up her leg with his paw, "well, it looks better than yesterday," he said, observing the torn metacarpal pad, "but its still a wound. I need something to cover it."
"You're gonna shove mud in my foot?" Gasket flicked her eyes to him, stirring slightly.
"No, I just need to bandage it with something, it'll help for now." He picked his head up, looking around for anything he could use. Leaves and plants weren't the way to go, they'd surely fall apart as they walked through the terrain, he needed something much sturdier. His gaze quickly fell back onto Gasket, and noted the ripped leather jacket she was still wearing.
He let out a long sigh, "you're not gonna like what I'm about to say."
"What?"
"I need your jacket."
She instantly picked her head up, meeting his stern gaze, "you're kidding."
"Look, it's fabric, that's perfect for bandaging your paw, nothing else we have is gonna work." Marshall insisted, trying to make her see reason, "look, I get that you don't want to take it off, but you probably also don't want to walk on a shredded pad."
The Husky only stared at him, processing his words. Marshall stood tall, breathing steadily as he prepared himself for another defiant lashing. To his surprise, she lowered her head back into the sand, "just take it."
"Really?" He said in mild surprise.
"I guess," she muttered, "if it's just you with me." She pushed himself up into a sitting position, and bit into the clothing to pull it off, "I have to trust you, seeing how I have no other option, don't I?" There was mild venom in her last statement.
Marshall was unsure if he should offer to help her remove it. Dogs didn't usually wear clothing, he and the rest of the team would don uniforms during the missions, but never on a casual basis. He was more than comfortable running around in his own fur. Biting his tongue, he reached a paw out as an offer to assist. She paid no mind to him, successfully yanking off the fabric and holding it in her teeth. In one flick of her head, she tossed the discarded fabric over to him. "There, do whatever you want."
The Dalmation shrugged and leaned down to tear off a piece of the clothing, just a few leather strips would work. He knew this was going to be tricky without thumbs, but for Gasket's sake, he was willing to try. It took a humongous amount of difficulty, some sleight-of-paw tricks, and a solid fifteen minutes, but he finally pulled the bandage tight.
"There," he smiled at the Husky, completely exhausted, "how does that feel?"
Gasket looked over herself, hesitantly rolling back over and letting her paw to the ground, "well, it doesn't hurt as much now." Unable to resist the smile peeling on her face, she looked up at him with a grateful expression, "thanks. Are you gonna eat now?"
Laughing, the Dalmation got up and walked back to the dead rat, "I guess so, a deals a deal." He chuckled, biting into the carcass, "don't like showing your belly, huh?"
"I guess," she looked off to the side, self-conscious.
"Does this mean you've never had a belly rub before?" Marshall joked, "it's like the best feeling in the world for a dog."
The Husky narrowed her eyes in irritation, "no, I have not, and will not ever."
"Aw, really?" he dared himself to go further, "with a soft, fluffy belly like yours I think you'd love it." He laughed.
Gasket immediately recoiled, blushing a dark red as she bared her teeth. In a snap, she flung her paw into the river and attacked Marshall with a large splash of water. The Dalmation braced himself, laughing so hard that small rat bones were falling out of his teeth. He quickly ran off playfully, yet at just a slow enough speed that Gasket could follow him. Rolling her eyes, the Husky started after him, a small smile creeping at the corner of her mouth.
-.-.-.-
"Hrrrg!" Marshall retched, vomiting a dark purple sludge into the sand.
Gasket stood beside him, holding his ears back, "news flash, the berries were poisonous," she rolled her eyes, patting Marshall's comfortingly.
"I thought-" he tried to say, but his throat lurched again, "I thought they were-" he was cut off as his stomach forced up another spew.
They had been walking for about an hour until Marshall came across a bush lying under a canopy of trees, containing dozens of little red berries. Gasket tried to stop him, but Marshall was overconfident in his proclaimed knowledge of wilderness survival, almost like he was trying to impress her. Before she could stop him, he had already eaten a few in a joyful fashion. Now it was minutes later, with Marshall fallen violently ill.
"Can you walk?" She asked, gently holding the sides of his face.
The Dalmation gave a weak, sickly smile, "I'm… fired up…"
"I'm sure you are," Gasket frowned, flicking her eyes to the puddle of acidic purple goo Marshall threw up.
The sound of running engines suddenly flew high above their heads. Gasket pricked her ear and glanced up into the sky. A pink helicopter was nearly visible, flying above the canyon. Gasket slowly drew back in surprise as she realized they were being actively searched for.
"Does a pink helicopter mean anything to you?" She looked back down at Marshall.
"Skye?" He asked wearily, slightly delirious, "she's here!"
Gasket returned her gaze to the sky, a pang of fear coming over her. The Paw Patrol was searching for Marshall, not her. The minute they recognized her, she'd be dragged away and thrown in the back of a police cruiser. The Husky emitted a low whine, feeling anxious at the thought of Chase coming at her. She watched the helicopter fly away, then begin turning around to make another loop. All Marshall needed was a way to signal to it.
Her sickly partner hobbled to his paws, hearing her whine, "hey, you alright?"
"I'm fine," Gasket lied, "in a few hours you'll be back home," she gently let him go and walked off to sit by the river.
"If we're lucky," Marshall watched the aircraft in the sky, "I'll try to think of something."
The biker was unresponsive, staring down into her reflection. It was almost alarming to witness what she had become since yesterday, with her mangled body and shredded outfit. She was a mere shadow of her former self, a disgusting, defiled mess. Seeing herself brought sadness, which was quickly replaced with a fire of disgust. Gasket learned quickly just how much she hated everything about herself.
"Hey wait, what if I use my dog tag?" Marshall came to a revelation.
The Husky looked back at him, "I thought your radio was broken."
"Maybe so, but it's still metal! What if we used some kind of reflective signaling?" He reached a paw to his neck and pulled his torn collar off. The strap was made of rubbery plastic, and was so ripped through it seemed like it could snap at any moment. The actual dog tag itself was scratched and broken, but its metal alloy was unmistakable.
"You do that," Gasket sighed, staring back down into the water as her reflection blurred over from the current.
Her tone was beyond obvious, and as much as Marshall didn't want to comment, he sighed and figured he as well bite. He couldn't tell if Gasket was deliberately acting this way on purpose just to draw his attention back over, or if she was genuinely upset, yet it seemed unnatural why she would be upset about being rescued.
The Dalmation gently placed his dog tag into a dry spot in the grass, keeping it away from the sand where it could drift into the water. Taking a long look at the Husky, he walked to the side, watching her as she stared into the water.
"Come on, Gasket," he said to her, "what's wrong?"
Pulling her patchy tail around her front legs self-consciously, faint anger glimmered in her eyes, "just tell me," she demanded, "when we get rescued, what's going to happen to me?"
Marshall was taken aback, yet a part of him was dreading this conversation. Rubbing his head nervously, he stuttered before speaking, "you're… you're going to be booked."
"Booked?" Gasket tilted her head.
The Dalmation sat at her side, "Chase will put you in jail for probably a few hours, then he'll take you to Adventure City for Pretrial Services."
"What about Hubcap and Dwayne?"
"They're likely already there," Marshall shrugged, "you'll go before a judge, who will inform you of what you're being charged with. He'll set your bond and… we'll see what happens from there."
Gasket whined anxiously, "didn't Chase say he was going to charge us with terrorism? We'll be in prison for life!"
"He can't actually do that though," the Dalmation explained, gently putting his arm around the Husky. She was afraid, responding to his touch by returning her gaze to him with fearful eyes, "he can't?" she asked.
"The job of police officers is to arrest suspects," Marshall nodded, "only the prosecutor can actually file the charges."
The biker shook her head slightly, "but we attacked him… we attacked all of you! Couldn't he press that on us?"
"Consider all Hubcap did, he definitely will," he admitted, "but the only person you physically attacked was… me."
His partner winced, flattening her ear as she constricted herself, "are you going to hold that to me?"
The legal system was not without flaws, no matter how much people tried to prove it was perfect. Morality wasn't as black and white as most thought, and often police officers were ordered to simply do the job, and abide by the law. As the Paw Patrol evolved into a tactical unit, no matter how much Chase encouraged their actions, Marshall hated doing what he did. Not everyone was a criminal, some were victims of circumstance, and in Gasket's case, some were tragically misguided. It pained Marshall to hear Chase's philosophy: If the law was broken, no matter who it was or the circumstances of the matter, then someone was going to get beaten and thrown in the back of a car.
During the pursuit above the canyon, Gasket had climbed up Marshall's fire engine and attacked him. He was fully legible to charge her for assault with the intention to seriously injure him. Taking another look at Gasket, he watched her hang her head in shame, wrapping her patchy tail around her legs. At that moment, Marshall saw something in her he couldn't see before, he knew she wasn't like the others, just a poor Husky misplaced by the lead Bulldog.
"No," he said, picking up his arms and gently wrapping them around the broken dog, hugging her in a soft squeeze. Gasket made no attempt to pull away, although still staring at the ground.
"Why though?" She muttered.
Looking up at the helicopter that was making another round through the canyon, Marshall knew it was only a matter of time. He carefully released her, taking a step back so he could pick up his dog tag and position himself under the sun. He didn't fully know the answer to her question and was trying to buy time for himself.
"And why did you save me to begin with?" Gasket watched him, "after everything…" she stammered, squinting her eyes as she tried to comprehend his motives, "why did you help me?"
Marshall looked her in the eye and said simply, "because you asked,"
Frowning, the biker looked away, still finding difficulty in understanding the Dalmation. Chase may have led them down a violent path, but only in Marshall did the old flickers of the true Paw Patrol remain.
"Gasket," he began, "I truly believe that you aren't like Hubcap, you deserve better."
"Oh, that's rich," she rolled her eyes, "in a few hours I'll be in jail, and I'll never see you again." She kicked a little sand up in frustration, "besides, the Ruff Ruff Pack is all I have! Do you think I don't know what kind of dog he is? I'm fully aware of the shit Hubcap pulls off." She sighed sadly, sitting back, "I have nothing else."
"You actually do," Marshall muttered, holding up his dog tag against the sunlight, and the metal visibly began to shine.
The biker tilted her head, "what, you're gonna make me a member of the Paw Patrol?" She joked, chuckling slightly.
"No," the Dalmation shook his head, "you still have a chance."
"To…?"
"Be better," Marshall smiled at her, "you may think you're too late, but you're really not. It's never too late to change, I can honestly see that you're not really a bad dog."
Bewildered at his endearing words, Gasket felt herself start shaking. The kindness of the Dalmation was unlike anything she ever felt in her entire life. Realizing how much she had mouthed off to him, she quickly regretted every insult that had left her mouth since they entered the canyon. From being born an orphan into the desert, scrounging off dead birds for food as a puppy, and going months before Hubcap picked her up, all she ever knew was the deviancy and crime she lived off of. No one in the Ruff Ruff Pack had ever even said to her face that they trusted her, believed in her, or wished for her success, and only now in her last few minutes of freedom did she meet someone who truly wanted to be her friend.
She desperately tried to hide the tears forming in her eyes, moving her head around as she started pacing. Marshall was focused on signaling the aircraft above them, moving the tag in his teeth as it reflected a massive glare from their position.
"Marshall," she came forward, aching to be with him.
"Yeah what-" he tried to say before he was interrupted by Gasket throwing her arms around him. Immediately she began sobbing into his neck, desperately clinging to him like he was the last good dog in her life. Smiling softly, Marshall returned the gesture, pulling her close as he hugged her back. They held each other for a long time, Gasket holding him so tightly her claws were starting to embed into his back. Trying to ignore the pain, Marshall caressed her scarred back, making sure to keep his paw away from the more serious abrasions she had.
The roaring sound of helicopter blades began to descend above them, the aircraft searching for a clear spot to land at the bottom of the canyon. It hovered above them before locating a clearing just beyond the trees.
"Am I going to see you again?" Gasket whimpered into his shoulder.
"Of course," he gently ran his tongue over her shoulder, "it probably won't even be that long, at best, you'll be charged and released on bond."
"Will you wait for me? I don't think I'll have anywhere to go,"
"I'll stand right outside the building," Marshall nuzzled her, "I'll get you a hotel room and we can plan our next move."
She was silent for a few moments, then smiled into his fur. Despite the pained protest from her damaged body, her tail began ceaselessly wagging. The sound of the helicopter suddenly stopped, signaling it had landed and shut off the engine.
"Thank you," she whispered lovingly.
Marshall knew what was coming, despite Gasket's quiet protest, he gently pushed her off. She looked down sadly, and the Dalmation tried to reassure her, moving her chin up a little with a smile. He pressed his nose to hers, tapping them against each other in a gesture of affection.
"Marshall?" Called a new voice, higher and feminine.
The Dalmation turned to face the voice, keeping one arm around Gasket to comfort her anxieties. The Paw Patrol was here, ready to retrieve him and the criminal he had been surviving with.
Skye emerged into the clearing, wearing her pilot's outfit. She looked around for a few moments before spotting Marshall, and the Cockapoo bounced up in joy.
"You're alive!" She exclaimed, "Chase, get over here!"
"Chase?" Marshall paled.
"We've been looking everywh-" Skye suddenly stopped, skidding to a halt as she spotted Gasket. Her eyes went wide, she tried to say something but all that emerged from the small dog were stutters. She clearly had no idea what to make of the situation.
Marshall hastily tried to defuse the situation as Gasket moved behind him, "Skye, listen-"
His voice cut off as he saw Chase walking out through the trees. The Shepherd was visibly happy, wagging his tail at the revelation that his close friend was alive. Marshall was overjoyed to be rescued, but he knew right away the scene was about to get seriously tense.
Chase didn't even say anything as he walked out, his smile dying near instantly when he spotted Gasket. Marshall held up his paws at the Shepherd to try to stop him from across the clearing.
His voice was steady as Gasket braced herself behind him, "Chase, listen-"
"You caught her," he said simply, "nice job." He started making his way over, an alarming sense of malice within him, "you can give her to me now."
The Dalmation took a step back, still holding his paw out, "Hey wait, let's just… cuff her and go. We don't need to escalate the situation."
The Shepherd raised an eyebrow as he approached the firefighter, "what are you talking about, did you already interrogate her?"
"Something like that," he admitted, "she's not going to resist this time, just go easy on her."
"Go easy?" Chase growled, "were you not there for the entire pursuit above the canyon? You almost died, I almost died, and we all saw death one way or another yesterday."
"Yes, but-" Marshall tried to say,"
"And she smashed a bottle across your head," the Shepherd pointed, "you gonna press charges?"
"No, I'm not," the Dalmation said defiantly, wincing as both dogs in front of him recoiled in shock, "she's willing to come quietly, can we not have any more violence?!"
"You aren't pressing charges on her?" Skye asked, bewildered.
"Have you lost your mind?!" Chase snapped.
"I said I'm not!" Marshall barked, bristling his dirty fur, "and I know that, legally, you can't either! The only dog she attacked was me, and I am choosing to not hold her for it!"
The Shepherd was furious, baring his teeth as his fur spiked along his back. The idea of his own friend turning against him in a situation like this was sparking a fire in him. He wanted to tear the Dalmation to pieces, yet he knew perfectly well that Marshall was right. He couldn't press charges on someone who didn't attack him, nor could he at all due to being an arresting officer. He couldn't lie, either, knowing Marshall would defend her.
"Alright," he hissed, "fine." He reached into his pup pack and tossed out some cuffs. "Since you're so close, you put that one-eared fuck in the back, we can talk on the way home."
Marshall shut his eyes as the metal cuffs hit against his face, Chase whipping around and sulking back to the helicopter. Skye was standing in shock from the whole ordeal, and with a concerned look at the Dalmation, she slowly turned and followed Chase.
"That could've gone better," Gasket muttered, pawing at the sand.
Sighing, Marshall turned back to his companion. He gazed into her eyes for a long time, before picking up the cuffs in his teeth, "I'm sorry but… you need to hold out your paws."
"And before I do this," he continued as Gasket sadly complied, raising out her arms, "I just want you to know that I'll wait for you, and I'll put in the best word I have to the court."
Gasket looked up at him, her green eyes briefly brightening for a moment.
"Don't be afraid," Marshall smiled softly, before taking a deep breath, knowing what was coming next. He frowned, realizing in the end, he still had to do his job. "You have the right to remain silent," he began, clicking her paws through the cuffs, "anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."
He placed a paw on her back and began leading her, "you have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided for you."
He lead her through the trees, bringing her over to the police helicopter Skye had landed. Chase could be visibly seen in the passenger seat in the front, eyeing Marshall with flattened ears as he watched him.
"Do you understand the rights I have read to you?" he gently brought her to a back section of the aircraft, a side door that led into a holding compartment. It was designed to hold arrested individuals, a hard passenger seat with no way to open the door from the inside.
"I do," Gasket said simply, as Marshall opened the door with his teeth.
"With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?" The Dalmation finished, looking at her one final time as he held his paw to gesture her in, fully trusting that she'd comply and stay put.
The biker looked up at him as she climbed inside, "I'll wait for you,"
Marshall nodded, lovingly gazing at her, "as will I."
He shut the door, locking her inside. It was saddening for him to do it, but he knew he had no other option given the circumstances. Gasket simply just couldn't walk free after all that had happened. Shaking his head, he walked over to the passenger side of the aircraft and opened the door, revealing Chase and Skye inside.
"Surprised you actually did that," Chase growled, staring down at the Dalmation from his seat, "what happened down there that you suddenly become soft to a criminal?"
"You wouldn't understand," Marshall quipped as he began to climb in, "now move over."
The Shepherd flashed a frustrated look as Marshall pushed him slightly, they were forced to share a seat in the helicopter since only had two. Closing the door to secure them inside, Marshall instantly looked his vision to the window at his side, refusing to meet Chase's gaze despite being practically pressed against him.
Concerned for her friends, Skye frowned at the two dog's discordance but powered up the engine as she prepared for taking off. They'd have to sort this out when they returned to Adventure Bay.
Marshall was conflicted as they were lifted off the ground. Gasket was a criminal, it was his job to catch and process her. The mission had gone awry, throwing him quite literally into vulnerability where he uncovered another side of her. Gasket was a deviant, but she wasn't a dog of pure evil, and all he wanted now was to help her. He wanted to help her be happy, help her succeed, and atone for her past mistakes. He wanted to be there for her no matter what anyone else said, he just had to hope she could get through the booking process.
The minute she got out, he told himself, he'd be right there standing outside, waiting for her with open arms.