Happy Monday (or whatever day you read this on)! This was a very productive weekend for me, as I made this Chapter on Saturday evening through Sunday evening, giving up my video games for something much more rewarding. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Paw Patrol.
Other Disclaimer: I don't advocate sabotage.
Final Disclaimer: I don't trust everything I read on the internet, and neither should you. Question everything! Be suspicious! The number one reason organisations get hacked is the users, so be careful out there!
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Everest stirred, shifting her weight around as she lay on a cold surface. She could hear talking, agitated by the sound of it, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She was slightly woozy, and there was a faint pain in her back right leg. She just wanted to rest here at... 'Wait. Where am I?'
Reluctantly she lifted her head and cracked her eyelids open. Everest yelped in surprise when she saw she was in a room with iron bars and a stone brick floor, like some sort of medieval jail cell.
"What-?!" She began, stopping when she noticed there were other occupants. Rubble lay on his side, tongue lolled out on the floor, a puddle of slobber forming beneath his mouth as he snored. Tracker was lying against the wall opposite to the bars, one eye slightly open and one leg twitching. He was muttering something in his sleep. Skye and Zuma sat a couple of feet away to her right. Zuma looked furious, glaring intensely across the cell. He also had a sickly pallor to his color. Skye was looking at Everest, seeming sad but a little relieved. None of them were wearing their ball clothes, just like Everest. She followed Zuma's enraged stare across the room and made eye contact with-
"Good morning. Had a nice nap?" Sweetie said with a smirk. Everest tried to hop to her feet, only to be forced back down by a sharp, searing pain in her leg.
"Everest!" Skye hurried over to her, laying a gentle paw on the Husky's back. "You okay, sis?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she hissed through clenched teeth. "My leg hurts a little, but I'm fine." The truth was she wasn't okay. In fact, she was very angry. What was Sweetie doing here? Everest had been in pain for the past couple of days because Marshall, her crush and the handsomest, kindest pup in the world, had asked the scheming Terrier out to the ball instead of her. It may sound silly, but she had been in love with him forever, since only a month after she was brought back to Adventure Bay, and they had grown to be particularly close. When the Barkingburg Ball came rolling around, Everest had taken every moment she could away from the mountain to spend with Marshall, hoping and praying that he'd ask her out. And who did he ask? Sweetie; a greedy, conceited, snobbish, prissy, pampered, stuck-up, rotten pup who never cared for anyone but herself. When Everest found out, it stung her deeply, and she spent that whole day in a depressing gloom. Zuma had approached her later on, and she accepted his invite. It was a fun ball with him, but the whole time, Everest couldn't stop thinking about Marshall, who was dancing and playing with Sweetie, laughing and having a good time. One could say that it was just one night, but just one drink of booze could eventually equal addiction. Everest had seen that lustful look in Sweetie's eyes when they'd all arrived. She was interested in him. For what reasons, who knew? Marshall was handsome, caring, funny, well built and would make an excellent partner. It could be more than that, though. Everest wouldn't put it past Sweetie to just be carnally interested in the Dalmatian.
Now here she was, looking smug as ever, though not as made up and groomed like normal. Sweetie's fur was disheveled, a few of her bangs sticking out in odd directions. She had a couple of red scrapes on her cheek, legs, and side. To top it off, a slight amount off blood was dried on her lower lip. She stood straight, head held high, giving off her usual air of confidence and superiority.
Everest, trying hard to bury her raging thoughts, faced her cockapoo friend. "Where are we? What happened?"
"What happened is we all have been unlawfully imprisoned beneath my castle by Harold Humdinger; a foolish child in a ridiculous costume," Sweetie interjected, slowly trotting over.
"Ha," Zuma spat. "When has anyone been lawfully imprisoned beneath your castle, dudette? And all this nonsense you've been spewing 'bout Harold is totally trash. I know it's you that chucked us in this slammer." By the tension in the air, Everest judged they had been arguing for awhile.
Sweetie made a face, wrinkling her nose and raising an eyebrow. "If that were true, why would I be down here along with the rest of you?" She smirked.
"Oh, I dunno. You know why? 'Cause I ain't the criminal mastermind here! You're the one who's always tossing us in secret chambers and running totally whacked out schemes!"
"Confound it!" Sweetie shook her head, looking frustrated. "This isn't my fault! It was Harold, you have to believe me!"
Zuma sneered. "Yeah right, dude. I'm not about to-"
"Zuma," Everest cut the Labrador off, rising to her feet despite her injury. The world wobbled a little, making her sway a bit. "As much as I want to blame her, it was Harold. I saw him. After you went down the hole, he showed up and... I tried to fight, but it gets blurry." Her memories got fuzzy after she lunged at him. She remembered there were some other people involved, and something had hit her leg. Something big and hard.
Zuma grunted, looking unhappy but also seeming a tad satisfied that there was another witness.
Sweetie shot him a prideful look. "See? I told you. Thank you Everest for-"
"Don't thank me," Everest stopped her with a glare. Sweetie's smug face got a knowing look as she turned towards the Husky. Everest turned back to Skye, who was looking just as sad as earlier. "How long have we been out?"
Skye glanced at the Terrier. "Sweetie says we've been down here two to three days."
Everest's eyes got wide. "Whoa. How come we were asleep that long?" She looked at the two slumbering pups. "And why are they still out cold?"
The cockapoo grimaced. "My guess is that Harold used some kind of tranquilizer. I got darted when I went to get my purse. To keep us down this long, he probably overdosed us. That'd explain my headache and Zuma's nausea."
"That twerp could really hurt someone one of these days," Everest growled. Her stomach growled loudly in response, making the other conscious cell mates jump. She giggled, a little embarrassed. "I guess two or three days of sleep can leave me pretty hungry."
Zuma pushed a bowl towards her, filled with kibble. Everest instantly assaulted it, devouring all of the contents in three seconds flat.
"Wow," Sweetie said, looking dumbstruck and somewhat disgusted. "You really... wolfed that down."
Everest chuckled to herself at Sweetie's discomfort. "I am part wolf. Do you have some water?"
Zuma offered her another bowl filled with water. Everest lapped up a few measured gulps before pushing it back. She was still famished, but at least she had something in her belly. "Where'd you get the food and water?"
"Some butler dude dropped off some grub earlier," Zuma gestured to a corner. Everest now noticed five empty bowls stacked by the bars.
"Yes, the traitors," Sweetie said bitterly. "When we get out of here, I have some serious punishment to distribute."
"Speaking of getting out of here," Skye said. "What are we going to do?"
"Skye? Is that you?!" A hoarse voice called from outside their room. They all hurried to the bars and peered out. Across the large chamber they spotted multiple other cells. In one of them, a weary looking boy was pressed up against the bars, looking around.
"Ryder!" All of the pups except Sweetie shouted.
"Pups! Are you okay?"
Before Everest or the others could respond, Sweetie said, "Why would it matter to you? Seeing as you're in league with Harold!"
"What?" Everyone asked at once, staring at the Terrier incredulously.
"That's right!" She accused. "I saw him deliver the Adventure Bay meteor right into the grubby hands of the enemy!"
"That's ridiculous," Skye exclaimed. "Ryder would never do that!"
"Skye's right," Ryder said. "I would never help Harold. I just woke up in this prison a couple of minutes ago."
"Then who was it I saw bringing the meteor in from your jet?" Sweetie maintained.
"Hey, if he was on their side, why would he be in the cell?" Zuma asked, sounding snarky.
Sweetie opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated. "Fine," she huffed. "I see you've flown my words in a circle, as the falcon flies-" Zuma beamed at his victory, "but that doesn't explain who I saw with the princess and earl."
"The princess and the earl were in on it?" Skye questioned.
"Yes. They also aided Harold in pursuing me after… they declared their animosity for me." For a moment, the royal pup had an almost vulnerable look in her magenta eyes, but before Everest could register it, she was back to normal.
"How many of you are there?" Ryder asked.
"Skye, Zuma, Rubble, Tracker, Sweetie and I are here," Everest counted. "Chase, Marshall, Rocky and Tanya are missing."
"There are two castle butlers in here, both are unconscious," Ryder said grimly.
"Wait, two butlers? Some of my staff are still loyal!" Sweetie grinned. "Looks like I have punishments and some knighting to dish out."
"You can knight people?" Zuma raised a brow in surprise.
"I suspect we were all drugged," Ryder cut in. "Are you all awake?"
"Most of us are up, but Rubble and Tracker are still out," Skye reported. As if on cue, Rubble shifted and whined in his sleep.
"I wanna ride the pony…" he drawled off. All the girls exchanged concerned glances. Zuma, however, snorted out a laugh.
"This isn't good," Ryder stressed. "Keep an eye on them. We need to make sure they wake up alright. How are you guys feeling?"
"I have a slight headache," Skye said.
"I feel like I might barf," Zuma griped.
"I'm a little woozy and unstable on my paws," Everest added.
"I'm just a little roughed up," Sweetie declared. "I had a little brawl with our immature pup-napper. He wasn't brave enough to cross swords, that big-girl's blouse, so I had to resort to claws and teeth," she complained.
"How did that go?" Everest asked with mock curiosity.
She shrugged. "Could've gone better. His jacksie is going to be sore for awhile, though," she added with a devious smile.
"You know… I don't want to hear more," Skye said, wrinkling her nose.
Zuma chuckled, shaking his head. "No way, dudette."
"Indeed," Sweetie produced a piece of ripped purple cloth, passing it to the Labrador. "It was not tasty, but it was well worth it to hear his screams."
"How are we getting out of here, Ryder?" Skye asked.
"I'm not sure," the boy admitted. "I don't have any form of communication with me, and I doubt you have your tags. If we did, I would try to contact Chase."
"Don't worry; I've already sent for help," Sweetie confided to them in a lower tone.
"Really? How?" Ryder sounded excited.
"I sent Busby with a message to Marshall. He'll be here anytime now."
Hearing her say Marshall's name with that much hope in her tone made Everest feel bitter all over again. "Oh, yeah? How do you know that he will listen to your little criminal doll?" She challenged.
"Criminal doll?!" Sweetie yelped indignantly. "I'll have you know he is not a criminal, he's a loyal froggy helper. Anyways, Marshall will surely come to my aid, he is my friend after all," she sniffed haughtily, giving Everest a condescending look.
"Excuse me? He is all of our friend, Miss Snooty." Everest growled. Skye looked between the two with worry evident on her face, while Zuma rolled his eyes.
Sweetie laughed maliciously. "Ha. Is that so, you Harebrained Husky?"
"Why, you little royal pain in the-"
"Both of you knock it off!" Ryder ordered. Both of them shut their mouths, still glaring daggers at each other. "We have enough trouble already! We're all in the same boat here, so we're gonna have to act like friends. Got it?"
"Sure thing, Ryder," Everest looked over at him.
Sweetie sighed. "Fine," she mumbled.
Ryder nodded. "That's better. Now, we are just gonna have to wait and pray Busby finds a way to Adventure Bay, fast. Until then, we're stuck."
Everest sighed. Gingerly, she lay down on her stomach, ears drooping. She wasn't good at waiting, she was more of the 'take action' type. And worse still, she didn't want to be stuck with Sweetie in a cell forever.
"Please hurry, Marshall," she whispered.
6:04 PM, Adventure Bay.
Chase sat on a beanbag chair by the TV, only half watching the show about a blue cat trying to catch or destroy a small brown mouse in the most ridiculous ways. The current episode had the cat wearing a feather duster like an Indian headdress and throwing sharp objects from the dining table at the mouse who wore a miniature pilgrim hat.
Marshall, Rubble, Tracker and Tomissen occupied nearby beanbags, laughing hard at the antics of the cartoon animals. Chase could see the humorous appeal, but he shook his head at some of the exaggerations and lack of logic. 'There's no way anyone can take all those blows,' he thought as he watched the cat fly into a shelf of china, propelled by a shaken bottle of cider. 'That's some strong cider. I don't think anyone should be drinking that.'
His eyes wandered to the other viewers, specifically Tracker. He and Rocky had talked to him earlier that morning to see whether or not he was actually their chihuahua. Turns out, he wasn't. Chase had asked him how 'Pedro,' Ryder's cousin and Tracker's owner, was doing and when he was expecting him back in Brazil. Tracker had said 'él está bien' and that he could stay at the Lookout for a couple more days. Afterwards, Chase and Rocky had talked together about the chihuahua's responses. Firstly, Tracker's owner was named Carlos, not Pedro. Second, he was not related to Ryder; they were penpals. Lastly, Tracker and Carlos lived in Panama, not Brazil. That meant he was a copy. So many of their friends were captured, it was a little depressing to think about.
The day had few rescues involved, mostly things like cats up trees or missing items. Once, after a certain Cali cat was retrieved about an hour ago, Zuma had asked how long 'til Ryder would be back. Chase had said, in more words, that Ryder was currently involved in some very important meetings and would be back late that night or early the next morning. Zuma had seemed skeptical, but didn't press the issue further. Chase knew that him and the real pups would have to leave really quickly the next morning.
Chase's eyes began a scan of the living room. Fake Skye and Captain were talking loudly by the elevator, the latter mentioned becoming more and more animated, waving paws around and describing something roughly the size of a gorilla. Skye was tearing up, ears shaking as she laughed. Tanya was over by the pup food dispenser, filling up a bowl and carrying a magazine. Zuma lay on a blanket, doing absolutely nothing. Rocky was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen preparing for dinner.
Chase's eyes were drawn to the doors as Everest walked inside. Chase pretended not to watch as she sauntered up to the pups watching TV, carrying the long tug of war rope. She tapped Marshall's shoulder, who turned around with an automatic grin. Chase noticed the sparkle leave his eyes when he registered who was tapping him, and the grin became a little more forced.
"Yeah... Everest?"
She seemed to be... what? Nervous? Excited? A little of both, maybe. "You want to, I dunno, play some tug of war?" Fake Everest had a certain tone that sounded vaguely familiar, though Chase couldn't figure it out. He saw out of the corner of his eye Zuma looking inquisitive at the exchange.
"Uh... sure?" Marshall said, glancing nervously at Chase.
"Hey, how about I play too?" Zuma offered, standing and stretching.
Chase, not wanting his best friend to be alone with those two, got off his seat. "I'll play too."
Zuma gave Chase a cold stare, which the Shepard returned.
"Yeah, you two can play as well," Marshall said, relieved. Everest looked disappointed, giving Zuma and Chase a distasteful look but ultimately giving no resistance. The four walked out the door and into the cloudy afternoon. The wind had died down, making it a tad warmer than earlier.
"Okay, here's the line," Everest drew on the pavement with a piece of red chalk. "First round; Marshall and I versus you two."
"Sure," Chase said, not liking the arrangement. They all took up positions, Chase reluctantly behind Zuma, Everest behind Marshall.
"Ready?" Zuma said, muffled by the rope in his mouth. "Pull!"
The rope instantly was pulled taut as both teams put their full effort into it. Chase growled as he felt his paws sliding an inch on the driveway. Planting himself more firmly, he strained to pull it further his way. He and Zuma had spaced themselves about a half foot away from each other, trying to keep distanced. Peering around the brown Lab head, he saw Marshall was in a nearly opposite situation. The two had positioned themselves close together, bodies almost touching, and were heave ho-ing in unison, working together better than Chase and Zuma.
Something was up, but before Chase could think about it, Fake Zuma took a hard step backwards onto Chase's paw. Yelping, he lost his grip on the rope, sending Zuma flying across the line and the other two tumbling back.
Zuma groaned, rubbing his head where he had slammed into the pavement. Chase was smirking in amusement for about a second before seeing what was behind him.
The other two had tumbled a good six feet, stopping with Everest on top of Marshall, belly to belly, rope draped over them. They made eye contact. "S-sorry!" Everest apologized, red in the face and hopping off of him.
Marshall mumbled something, standing and stretching. He smirked at Chase. "I guess we won."
Chase was about to respond when he noticed Fake Everest kept darting her eyes towards Marshall. She was still slightly rosy-cheeked, though her tail was wagging. There was a strange glint in her eyes, something Chase recognized.
"Hey!" Rocky suddenly shouted from the Lookout doorway, making the policepup flinch. "I need help in the kitchen, and not just Chase and Marshall. All you lazies are going to learn to cook, 'cause it's a valuable life skill." He turned on his heels and marched back inside.
The four tug of warriors trudged in silently after him.
11:11 PM, Adventure Bay.
Chase jerked his head up, trying to shake sleep out of his head and straining to listen. He could've sworn he had heard something.
Rubbing an eye, Chase hopped out of bed and moved stealthily to the door of his pup house. He could hear footfalls outside, and some slight whispers. He cracked the door open, peering out into the darkness. The light wind had come back, chilling him as it blew through the door and then through his fur. He shivered, looking for signs of movement. Nothing. Nothing. Nothi- wait! There! Chase saw a petite pup figure stealing through the night around the Lookout. Opening the door more, Chase crept out into the cool darkness.
The German Shepard looked around, eyes beginning to adjust to the lack of light. He could vaguely tell that Skye's, Everest's and Zuma's pup house doors were ajar. He bit his lip. Obviously, something was happening. Chase dashed as quietly as he could to Marshall's house and opened the door. He moved up to his brother's bedside and shook him awake, one paw over his mouth.
"Hmph, oomph urph mff lmph?" Marshall sat up drowsily.
"Something's up," Chase whispered in his ear. "The copies are out." Marshall's eyes widened and nodded his understanding. Chase removed his paws from his muzzle.
"Well, let's go see why," he said in a low voice. The two exited the house, Marshall following Chase around the Lookout. They both hid behind Rubble's house, which also had a wide open door. Marshall peeked inside, then came out. "Gone," he whispered.
Chase pointed at the Air Patroller, which was parked a little ways away from the tower. The rear door was open and small lights were spilling out. He turned to the Dalmatian. "Get the others up. I'll take a closer look." Marshall made a nearly imperceptible nod before creeping off, low to the ground and without making a single sound.
Taking a quick survey of the area and seeing no one, Chase hurried silently across the open to the jet. He stopped by the ramp, peering inside. His heart stopped when he saw inside.
Rubble stood over Robo-Dog, mercilessly yet silently ripping and tearing wires out of his head. A dismembered leg was separated from the body, and the tail was sporadically flicking. At the jet's controls, Tracker was doing the same to the dashboard, dropping pieces and components to the floor. Sparks were occasionally leaping up from the controls and into the air.
"Spying, are we?" A sly voice said behind him. Chase whirled around and came face to face with Skye and Zuma, both wearing evil grins.
"You!" Chase spat, glaring at them both. "You're not going to get away."
Skye just laughed wickedly. "That's what you think, Chasey." Zuma then lunged at him, knocking him to the grass. He tasted the moist lawn as the Labrador pounced him again, biting at his front leg. Yelping at the piercing sensation, Chase positioned his other three legs underneath the attacker and kicked him off. Quickly, Chase rolled to his paws, smelling blood. He tried to activate his pup tag, but for some reason it wouldn't respond.
"Everyone up! Sabotage!" He shouted as he leapt to side, dodging a snapping bite from the cockapoo. He shoved her over only to be tackled by Zuma again. They wrestled on the ground, clawing and biting each other relentlessly. Chase heard Skye, Rubble and Tracker retreating away but could only fight on with the Lab.
With a roaring yell, Chase bucked the brown dog to the side and towards a bush. Zuma yelped as he crashed into it, branches breaking and twigs snapping. Chase found his feet and raced off after the others.
Always the light sleeper, Captain was up on his paws the instant the shouting began. He and that beagle, Tomissen, were set up in the living room of the Lookout on some sleeping pads and pillows.
"Whoisitwhashappening?!" Tomissen jumped up from his makeshift bed, head whipping 'round to try and locate the source of the ruction. He stumbled off his mattress like he was three sheets to the wind.
"Chase yelled 'sabotage,'" Captain informed him, jumping off his own bed. "Listen." They both strained their ears to hear barking, growling, and more than a couple dull thuds. "Sounds like a good melee!" He said, dashing for the door with Tomissen on his heels. They exited the Lookout just in time to hear a resounding crash. Looking in the direction of the sound, they saw two dogs wrestling across the driveway beside a pup house. Wild baying echoed through the air as figures raced about in the shadows.
"They're making a break for it! Don't let them get- oof!" They heard Chase yell from somewhere nearby.
"That's all I need to know!" Tomissen shouted. "Let's go beat up the Paw Patrol!" He charged at the nearest figure, tackling them into the dark with a war whoop. Captain singled out on one dog with big, upright ears who was fleeing away from the Lookout. He took off after them without any barks or battle cries. His plan was to take them down quickly and quietly, but as he pursued them, he started to take notice of the direction. They were heading down the hill en route for the water.
'The Sea Patroller,' Captain realised. 'These guys are gonna try to escape by sea. Lucky I know a short cut.' He changed course slightly and charged into the night.
"Psst, Rocky!" Marshall hissed in the mixed breed's ear. He was in his pup house, shaking him and trying to wake him.
"What..." he yawned, shifting, "time is it?"
"Doesn't matter, the copies are out sneaking around in the jet."
Rocky perked up. "The jet?!" He rolled out of bed onto his paws.
Before Marshall could say anything more, they heard Chase yell; "Everyone up! Sabotage!" Angry barks sounded, and a yelp of pain. Both pups rushed out the door into the cold, cloudy night air. Marshall could see the shadowy forms of pups struggling in the dark by the jet, and more forms dashing away from it into the night.
"Come on Ro-" Marshall was cut off when he was knocked to his back by the shadow of a larger pup. He rolled to his stomach in time to see a Husky slam Rocky against his pup house with a crash. He fell to the ground.
Leaping up with a growl, Marshall charged the fake Everest. She was turning to face him when he sprung forward, paws outstretched. They both tumbled to the ground, clawing and slashing. "Rocky! Go get Tanya!"
Marshall couldn't tell if the mixed breed had done what he said, wrestling his fake friend. They both found their feet, snarling and bristling. Marshall, still enraged by his real friend's disappearance, attacked, striking at her face with a PupFu chop. It struck her muzzle soundly, and she stumbled back a few steps. He followed up with another strike, but this time Everest dodged. Off balance, Marshall tried to recover his stance when the Husky sank her fangs into his shoulder. Overpowering him, she threw him to the ground, and his head struck against the asphalt. He groaned, temporarily dazed as he stared up at the figure looming over him. He awaited the deadly strike.
Everest growled, but hesitated, giving Marshall a chance to get his bottom legs beneath her chest and kick up. The Husky was flung backwards into Rocky's pup house, head banging on the wall with a sickening Conk! Everest slumped to the ground, and Marshall stood over her.
"They're making a break for it! Don't let them get- oof!" Chase shouted in the dark. Marshall turned to see figures rushing away down the hill. Taking one last look at the unconscious Husky, he ran after them.
"And this is why jogging is so important," Captain told himself as he legged it across the beach. He'd done some serious bush whacking to reach the water before the clones, getting whipped in the face with more than a few branches in his rush, and now he dashed along the long stretch of sand, paws flinging particles in the air behind him. He was almost to the Sea Patroller when he risked a glance backwards. He could see distant shapes making their way to the beach. He'd have a minute or two at most before they arrived.
Captain jumped up on to the wooden pier that led up to where the large boat was parked, halfway inserted into it's docking station. His paws pounded on the wood as he raced along the pier. He leapt on the boat deck and dashed down below.
His footsteps echoed as he ran through the metal corridors. "Engine room, engine room. Crikey, where's the blasted engine room?" He checked room after room, coming across a large launch area for smaller ships with a high roof, a rec room with a pool table, television, chairs, and more, a dining facility with big, round tables, a storage unit full of crates, and many others. "Where the hell is that damn-" he skidded to a stop, backtracking to a doorway. "Engine room!"
Captain entered in, looking at the various boilers, pistons, pipes and other things stacked against the walls that he honestly knew nothing about; not a single sausage. He trotted over a vent, examining his surroundings curiously.
Suddenly the room came to life, rumbling as pistons began pumping, furnaces roared to life and pressure gauges indicated the rising temperatures in the boilers. He heard barking, howling, and yelling from outside. Somebody had turned on the boat and was preparing to cast off.
Captain rubbed his paws together. "If there's one bloody thing I've learned over the years, it's that anything with energy is a bomb." He began twisting some valves, shutting off some pipes, opening others, and doing things which are generally not advisable. His plan was simple; build up enough pressure so that the whole ship blew sky high. He needed to give himself enough time to flee, though. "This is a large craft; that equals one epic kaboom," he muttered to himself as he worked.
The ship began to sway, and the noise in the engine room increased in volume, atmosphere of the room heating up. They were underway. "I've seen once how fast this tub moves, and it's exceptional. It'll be well clear of the shore when it goes." He stepped back, taking in his paw-work. "That'll do."
Captain jogged out into the halls, looking left and right before continuing back the way he came. He considered going out through the launch bay, but ruled out the idea. The bay door controls were probably in the bridge, and that was the last place he wanted to go. He was nearly to the stairs that led to the deck when he froze, hearing a growl. He dodged left and downward, flattening his body on the cold metal floor as he simultaneously felt the breeze of somepup flying over him. A bulldog went Smack! on the floor in front of him. Captain leapt to his paws and made a break for it, making special care to trample the downed dog. He rounded a corner and came to the stairs. He climbed them, taking two steps at a time and came out in the fresh night air. He also happened to come out into a trap. Two pups blocked his way forward, growling and slowly closing in. He had half a mind to go back down when he turned and saw Rubble stalking up, paw print on his forehead and looking very ropeable.
"Good evening!" Captain put on a winning smile. "Nice night for it, don't ya think?"
The cockapoo sneered. "Yes, a very nice night to bring a captive to our master." Captain did a quick head count. The Husky was missing, and so was the chihuahua. He guessed that somepup had to be piloting the craft.
"Some hope!" He laughed, internally realising that he might literally have the last laugh any moment now. "I'm about to take all you boofheads down!"
"What's a boofhead?" The Zuma clone whispered to Skye.
"It doesn't matter!" She barked, glaring at Captain who smirked. "Shut up, you! We're going to-" her ultimatum was interrupted by a loud groaning sound from down below. "What was that?" She asked nervously.
"It's the horn call of the Underwold; you should be afraid," Captain laughed once more, looking up at the sky and praying briefly. "Any of you met Davy Jones before?" He met their eyes, timing off in his head. "No? Well, let's go say gooday, hey?" Then all hell broke loose.
The first explosion was thunderous, shaking the whole craft violently and sending all of the pups to the deck. Captain could hear metal shrieking and shredding down below. He glanced down the stairs to see the bulldog roll out of sight down the hall which was illuminated by the red glow of heat.
"Well, it's been a blast!" Captain yelled as he got up and dashed for the Portside railing and dove overboard. It took a second for him to reach the water, but it felt like forever with the wind billowing in his shaggy fur and the yelling that began to sound on deck. He plunged in, head first and straight like an arrow. The shock of the impact was overridden by the shock of the cold water. Captain tasted salt as he stroked upwards and away from the craft.
He broke the surface, gasping for breath as frigid water streaked down his face and neck. His fur was matted down and his nose felt clogged. Captain immediately began paddling in the direct opposite direction of the boat, back towards shore. 'A ship travelling at ten knots will move around ninety metres away from an overboard person in about twenty seconds,' Captain thought as he paddled. 'The explosion is going to be really large, but the ship is definitely going faster than thirty-five knots already, which means-' His thoughts were interrupted by another explosion, this one lighting up the night behind him. He could see the red-orange light reflecting off of the water and smell the choking smell of smoke. Then came the big KAROOM!
Captain Turbot was jostled out of bed by an earthquake-like vibration. He fumbled for his glasses when he heard a loud booming sound, rattling everything in his bedroom. Running to the door, he flung it open, seeing his cousin Francois already up.
"What is happening zis early in ze morning?" Francois asked in his French accent.
"I don't know, it was a sizable sound," Turbot responded, racing up the stairs to the top of the Seal Island lighthouse. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Francois came up right behind him and gasped.
"Sacre Bleu!" He exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. The cousins stared out on the ocean at the massive mushroom cloud which bloomed upwards from a burning ship. Huge bits of wreckage rained down from the sky. The cloud itself was black, yet glowed with an orange fire that made it look apocalyptic.
"Belligerent Barracudas! The Bay is being bombed!" Turbot yelped, grabbing a pair of binoculars off the hook and retrieving his phone. Dialing quickly, he raised it to his ear as he lifted his binoculars. "We better call the Paw... Paw..." the phone fell from his grasp.
"What? What?!" Francois questioned apprehensively. "Why aren't you calling ze Paw Patrol?"
"It... it is the Paw Patrol!" Turbot exclaimed, horrified.
The force of the final explosion forced water out in all directions, sending Captain sloshing to and fro in the ocean, submerging and re-emerging from the waves several times. Droplets rained down all around him along with chunks of flaming debris, landing with loud splashes. Captain turned and gawked at the wreckage of the once magnificent boat engulfed in a raging inferno, a plume of death-black smoke with an orange tinting contrasting with the light grey sky.
'It's beautiful,' he admired his job well done before continuing on his way, riding the rolling waves. He paddled for about one minute before he came across a shape bobbing up and down in the water. As he neared it, he recognised that it was a face up, slightly crispy, unconscious pup. A chocolate-brown Labrador Retriever, to be specific. Captain almost wanted to leave the clone to his fate, but something inside him made him stop. Sighing, he let his training kick in as he grabbed Zuma, hoisting him onto his side and performing a sidestroke. 'You know, this is why I'm not a Navy bloke, or a frog-pup marine. Boots firmly on the dirt is how I roll.' He thought as he swam. Judging by the distance between him and the shore, this was going to be a good ten minute swim.