So... Cold...
If any of you knew me in real life, you'd know that I'm not a snow lover. And now that flipping fluff is falling here and there, to and fro, everywhere and nowhere! Winter, you've gotta shovel the snow (and there's already a good foot or two out there!). I prefer Summer. Sure, you might get tad charred or a little crispy, but at least you don't have to shovel heat! Gah! I'm shivering just looking out the window...
Happy (Belated) Halloween! 'Twas pretty good, this year. I wanted to make a short Paw Patrol Halloween story (not one of those 'so-creepy-everyone-dies-oh-no-it's-Chucky-the-murder-doll' ones) but decided to wait for a bit. I'm still formulating a plan for that one.
The FIFA World Cup is coming! Who all is excited? 'Cause I am! And if you're staring at this like 'I don't care about soccer,' at least give it a go. "How you ever gonna know if you never even try?" (The Script, Hall of Fame) Watch a game or two, then make a judgement. You may realise you like football.
Disclaimer: I don't own Paw Patrol or any of the characters featured therein. I do, however, own all of my 'OCs' that are products of pure 97% W0lf Mast3r genius (1.5% to my sister for Tomissen, 1.5% to various idea making people). I also give credit where it's due, so a big GRAZIE to Foxfire69 for graciously allowing me the use of his 'OC,' Cinder! (As featured in Paw Patrol: Everest's Recovery + more) His help and opinion with her dialogue is invaluable. The fact that he lended her to me really got my tail wagging (figuratively speaking). Do not worry Cinder fans, I won't be: Mauling her, Killing her, Seriously Injuring her, 'Shipping' her (sin permiso), Imprisoning her, Slicing her with a Lightsaber, Dropping a Building on her, Killing her Parents, Making her related to a villain, or doing anything of that sort to her ('cause I'm not Disney).
7:40 AM, Adventure Bay.
Chase rubbed his eyes, setting the paper down. He had been sitting on his beanbag chair scanning the gathered news papers' headlines for the last fifteen minutes, reading things like "Appalling Accident in Adventure Bay," and "PAW Patrol Boat Detonates in Bay." Occasionally he ran into the more obnoxious ones like the paper he'd just set down. It read; "Adventure Bay Bombing: PAW Patrol Casualties of Possible Terrorist Attack."
The night before had been hectic. After Marshall and Tanya had finished treating the clones' and their own wounds, Rocky had informed the group of the extent of the sabotage. All vehicles, aside from pup houses, were rendered inoperable until they had proper repairs, which would take a good couple of days, or weeks, Rocky had said. Rocky had also investigated Chase's dead pup tag problem and found that the Lookout communications equipment was completely trashed. They were essentially in a dead zone until Rocky had scrounged up a phone they could use. Chase had called up Jake, who was racing over at half past midnight, probably driving like Marshall plays Need for Speed: Most Wanted. After assuring him that Everest was fine but making him promise to keep quiet, Chase told the mountain man to swing by the Lookout around eight in the morning.
Chase had gone to see Mayor Goodway, only to find the town filled with rescue workers and law enforcement, all headed to the beach to begin rescue operations on the boat. The policepup had to explain to Goodway that there was an accident, but none of the pups were seriously injured. That said, Chase claimed that Ryder wanted it all handled quietly for very good reasons, and things would be cleared up shortly. The mayor didn't seem very convinced, especially looking at Chase's bandaged foreleg, but ultimately agreed to keep things quiet for now.
The idea to keep a low-profile actual came from Rocky, who said that they could fake their deaths so Harold wouldn't know what hit him. 'That dog,' Chase shook his head. 'He watches too many movies. Then again, it's a pretty good idea.' When morning came, the pups had awoken exhausted, both physically and emotionally, having been drained of their energy by the fight. They had all separated to do various activities. Rocky, Marshall, and Tanya had taken the clones into the "Rocky Cave," as Marshall had called it earlier, eliciting a face-paw from Rocky. The mixed breed wanted to take a look at the collars, while Marshall and Tanya wanted to keep the "patients" well taken care of, plus they didn't seem to believe Rocky's oath that he would dissect them while down there. Tomissen had taken to pacing around, watching TV, or lurking in dark corners. Chase didn't understand that last one, but he didn't care as long as the beagle wasn't trying to spy on him, as he'd caught him doing so twice already. And Captain... Captain had remained rather distant from the others since the beach incident, silently exercising and marching around the perimeter of the Lookout like a watchdog. Marshall had also been being somewhat aloof around the Collie, keeping his sentences short and to the point. Chase could feel the air of stress and frustration in the camp, tangible like cobwebs in every room they congregated in. He himself was stressing out like crazy, a million things on his mind yet none of them taking the front and center stage.
"Tomissen! For the last time, stop watching me!" Chase barked.
"Aww. What else am I supposed to do?" Tomissen whined before falling to the floor with a plop. Chase examined the roof, not seeing where the beagle could've been holding on. Then he noticed the black boots the pup was wearing.
"Are those my suction boots?"
Tomissen kicked them off. "Yeah. I found them under a yellow beanbag."
"Doggone it, Rubble," Chase muttered, remembering how one of his pairs had disappeared awhile back, never to be seen again. On a totally unrelated subject, Ryder's cookies on the top shelf had begun to be pilfered mysteriously with no evidence to how the culprit, if a pup, could've gotten that high up.
Both pups perked up to hear a car engine outside, pulling up by the Lookout. Chase and Tomissen made eye contact briefly before dashing for the slide, each determined to get to the bottom first. Chase made a dive, reaching it a second before the beagle and sliding down like a bullet through a gun barrel. As he went round and round, picking up speed, he realized that he might not have the best landing, especially with the beagle coming right behind him; something he probably would've wanted to think about before he got going down.
When he reached the end, Chase shot out, flying a short distance before slamming into something yellowish that went "Hey!" Chase tumbled across the driveway and onto the grass with three other bodies. He rolled to a rest, world spinning.
"Taking over for Marshall, I see?" A familiar male voice said dizzily from his right.
"Tuck! What are you doing here?" Chase asked as he stood, turning to face the Golden Retriever. Tuck was chuckling as he picked himself off of the ground, shaking his head in mirth. Just behind him, Tomissen lay draped over Ella's tummy, face in planted the lawn. He lifted his head, a couple blades of grass on his forehead, and came face to face with the Retriever, his brown nose and her pink one almost touching.
"You're soft; great for crash landings," he observed, patting her in emphasis.
"Uh, thanks?" She responded awkwardly, gently rolling him off. They both found their paws and turned to Chase. "Hey, Chase. We're here because we heard about the explosion-"
"And we wanted to make sure you guys were okay," her twin finished. Ella nodded.
"Yeah, we're fine," Chase winced at his words. "Actually, we're not fine. There's something I need to tell you two."
"Yeah!" Tomissen said enthusiastically, nudging Ella. "Like how we had to battle evil clones, or how there have been dog-nappings, or how I totally kicked butt but also accidentally bit Rocky in the dark, or how we've gotta go to Barkingburg to kick some royal rears!"
In unison, both of the Retrievers blinked their blue eyes at Tomissen before turning to Chase, heads tilted at matching angles. "What is he talking about?" they asked.
Chase sighed. "Sit down; this will be a long story."
Marshall stood by the table on which lay a Husky and a Labrador, both strapped down, as Rocky rattled away on the keys of the computer which had cables running from its base to the fake pups' tags. Tanya sat beside him, eyes glazing over in boredom as she watched the flashes on his screen. They were in Rocky's bunker as he ran tests on the copies. He had wanted to tie them down to make sure nothing unexpected happened, so Tanya and Marshall had strapped the down in a medical fashion, not very comfortable but probably better than whatever the mongrel had in mind originally, considering the bucket of chains in the corner of the lower floor.
"Anything to report?" She asked, repeating the question that she'd been asking for the last several minutes.
"Nothing... yet..." Rocky answered distractedly, eyes not leaving the screen. After a few more minutes, Tanya stood, stretching and yawning. Marshall let out a compulsory yawn to match hers, slapping his face to try and keep it down.
"Well," she began "I think I'm gonna-"
"Aha!" Rocky exclaimed, making the two medics jump.
"What?" They both asked excitedly.
"Check this out!" Rocky hit a button, and fake Zuma went from a chocolate-brown Labrador to a golden-blonde one. "How cool is this?" He gushed as he changed the fake Everest's lavender fur to grey and then snow-white.
Tanya smirked. "I thought you found something useful out," she complained, eyeing the two test subjects.
"Oh, I did," Rocky gestured to his monitor. "I learned that, just like a normal pup, they have a heartbeat, they breathe oxygen, they have digestive tracks, they bleed, and they have feelings of anger, happiness, and love."
Marshall cocked his head. "You learned all of that by tapping on your computer?"
"No, I learned all that yesterday. They ate dinner. They bled in the fight, and you had to bandage them up. Captain made fake Skye laugh, fake Rubble was happy when I taught him how to make beans, and Everest here fell in love with you."
Marshall felt his face get hot, something that was happening all too often lately. "Wh-what do you mean?" He tried to sound casual, but he knew he had failed miserably.
"Chase told me about the tug of war thing. I think you made quite an impression on her up at the cabin." Rocky shook his head in amusement. "Anyway, the only thing separating them from us is that the meteors in the tags are what's holding them together." He glanced at his monitor. "Oh, and they're both waking up."
"Really?" Tanya hurried over to the table, where the two clones were indeed beginning to stir. Marshall and Rocky walked up beside her. The first to open their eyes was Zuma.
He stared upwards for a bit, looking distant and confused, when suddenly he jerked against his restraints. Frantically looking around, his gazed stopped on the trio beside the table. "Where am I? What are you doing to me?" He growled, tugging to no avail on the straps. All the movement had woken Everest up as well, who cried out in alarm at her situation.
"Hey, calm down," Marshall soothed gently. "You're okay. You're still in Adventure Bay."
"Why are we tied down?" Everest pulled against the restraints, fear evident in her face. "What are you going to do to us?"
"We're not going to do anything," Marshall assured her, looking into her eyes. He was talking in the same tone he would to a patient. In some ways, they were his patients, and he had a duty to keep them calm and safe. "We've been helping you to recover from last night's... incidents." It seemed to do the trick, as she stopped fighting and held the Dalmatian's gaze.
"You're... helping us?" Zuma asked incredulously. "Why? And why does my body hurt?" He groaned.
"That's kinda the bodily reaction to be expected when... you know, a boat explodes on top of you," Rocky explained hesitantly, gesturing to the Lab's bandages. Fake Zuma looked down and yelped.
"What happened to my fur?!"
Rocky chuckled. "Sorry, I was messing around and changed your fur color. I can put it back if you want," he offered.
Zuma thought for a moment. "Nah... I kinda like this color better."
"Good, it'll distinguish you from Zuma when he gets back," Tanya said, biting her lip when she saw the copies cringe. Marshall realized that the clones didn't trust them and were seemingly afraid that they'd do something harsh or cruel in retaliation for the night before.
Marshall suddenly had an idea. It was a long shot, but it just might work in earning their trust, or it could end up horribly wrong. The Dalmatian reached up on top of the Husky, feeling her shiver as he unlatched her restraints. She sat up in wonderment and apprehension as Marshall walked around to the other side of the table and did the same for Fake Zuma. He stepped back, allowing both to hop down from the tabletop.
"W-why did you let us go?" Everest asked nervously, eyes fixed on Marshall.
Marshall smiled kindly. "I'm releasing you from my care; you're free to go at will." He then said in a lower, ashamed voice; "I'm so sorry for how things went last night, I shouldn't have struck you. I hope you can ever forgive me." What happened next, the firepup was not expecting.
Fake Everest began sobbing as she fell to her knees and grabbed onto him, like a scared pup grips to her parent. He didn't resist the hug she gave as he felt her tears run down into his fur. Marshall patted the Husky's back, rubbing her in consolation. He glanced over at the other three pups who looked as startled as he was. She looked up at him and met his eyes, tears coming to standstill. "Why would you help us recover? After all we did, why?"
"Because it's the right thing to do," Marshall responded gently, knowing it sounded cliché, but it was still the thing that needed to be said. "I know you guys don't know any better than to do what you were made for; I don't blame you."
"It's our... m-my f-fault. I'm sorry I attacked you guys and lied," she choked out between sniffles.
"I forgive you," Marshall whispered, giving her a squeeze.
"I'm sorry too," Fake Zuma apologized, looking somewhat touched. "You guys saved my life. I remember the blast and the flying shrapnel and the flames..." he shuddered before continuing. "I owe you my life."
"You don't owe me anything," Marshall dismissed with a wave of his paw before helping Fake Everest up.
"Oh, yes we do," Clone Everest asserted. "We want to help you fix the damage we caused." Fake Zuma nodded in agreement.
Rocky stepped forward. "If you're gonna hang around here, we've gotta get you new names. No offense, but we've already got a Zuma and an Everest."
The Husky looked enthusiastic about the idea. "Yeah! Great idea. A new life; a new name." She wiped the last of her tears away. "Who should we be?"
"Let's see," Rocky mused as he plodded to his computer. He hit a couple of buttons before a list of words appeared. "Here's one of many lists of male names. See if you like one, Labrador."
Fake Zuma started to go down the list, muttering each name and an occasional comment. "Alexander, no. Jerald, nope. Jophus, is that even real? Radcliffe... no, just no." After a few minutes, he looked up with a big smile. "How about Luka?"
Tanya grinned. "Oh, I love that one. Luka the Labrador, very nice," she appraised.
"My turn! Outta the way, Luka!" The Husky came up to the computer as Rocky tapped a couple more buttons. "Can you make them winter related?"
"No problem." A few more taps and a new list.
"Hmm..." the Husky considered the list thoughtfully. "Flurry... Mittens... Snowflake... Elsa... Tundra..." she mumbled. Marshall perked up to the last one.
"That's a pretty one."
"You think so?" She asked him. Marshall nodded, making her simper. "Then I want to be Tundra!"
"Tundra and Luka have been added to the party," Rocky said in an officious voice. "Welcome! Now that you're with us, mind filling us in on the Sweetie situation?"
"Sweetie... situation?" Luka questioned, looking bewildered.
"Yeah, you know, why'd she take our friends?"
"Sweetie didn't take your friends. Harold Humdinger trapped them and sent us here to replace them and sabotage your operations," Tundra informed them.
"Harold?!" Both Rocky and Tanya yelled in surprise. Meanwhile, Marshall was yelling something else.
"I knew she was innocent!" He declared joyously. His revelry was cut short when he noticed the others giving him odd looks. "Uh, I mean, Harold?! No way!" He added with a blush.
"That makes a lot more sense!" Rocky exclaimed, eyes wide. "Sweetie may be good with tech, but this didn't seem like one of her usual schemes. Harold, on the other paw, pulls things like this all the time."
"We've gotta tell Chase," Tanya started for the stairs. Marshall was about to follow her when he looked back at the pit two newest friends. Both looked uncomfortable.
"I-" Tundra gulped. "I don't think he'll be happy to see us." Luka shook his head.
"Don't worry," Rocky consoled them. "I'll make sure he stays behaved. Anyway, his bark is usually worse than his bite."
"Usually?"
"Wow," Ella said.
"Uh huh, what my sister said," Tuck mumbled. Both Golden Retrievers sat with wide eyes after Chase finished his tale. "So, you've gotta go to Barkingburg to rescue the others from Sweetie?"
Chase nodded. "Right now, I'm waiting for Jake to show up," he looked at his pup tag, reading seven fifty. "I'm gonna fill him in then ask him to keep an eye on Adventure Bay while we're out. Think you can help Jake with that?"
"Mighty and small, I'll give it my all!" Tuck said with a smile, standing. His twin got to her paws as well.
"Let's think big!" she declared enthusiastically.
Chase grinned at his two friends. "We can start by checking the copies' pup houses; see if we can find anything of value."
"Oh, gone crook, have we?" Ella asked innocently. Chase face-pawed jocularly.
"You know what I mean!"
The group laughed as they walked over to the turntable. Ella moved off to check Skye's, Tuck diverted his course to Everest's, Chase headed for Rubble's, and Tomissen made for Tracker's. Poking his head inside, Chase wrinkled his nose at the stench of bulldog. All yellow on the inside, Rubble's pup bed was a tangled mess of sheets, pillows, and stuffed cats. The construction pup had an odd... fondness for cats. Trying to only breathe through his mouth, Chase began his search. Two minutes of investigation revealed nothing, so he moved on to Zuma's. The water rescue pup's house was cluttered with beach toys, a surfboard, scuba gear, trophies, swimming gear, and roleplaying game pieces. When Chase had found out about the Labrador's affinity for D&D, Zuma had made him swear never to reveal it. It hardly mattered, though. Everyone already knew, they just kept pretending they didn't for the sake of Zuma's honor. The Labrador's house was free of anything suspicious as well, so Chase went back outside and found Ella, Tuck, and Tomissen waiting.
"Found anything?" Chase asked, sitting in front of the group.
"Nope," Tuck replied. "Everest's was devoid of evil clone stuff or anything suspicious."
"Ditto with Skye's," Ella reported.
"I have located a few items of interest," Tomissen said with a grin. "First off, in Tracker's place I found some sopapillas!" Tomissen produced a little, puffy bread and popped it into his mouth. "Secondly, I found out he uses a monkey nightlight. And third-"
"Tomissen," Chase interrupted with as much patience as he could manage. "Anything useful for the investigation?"
"Not in Tracker's. Neither in yours, but I did find this," he held up a pink bathing cap with small flowers on the top, and Chase's heart stopped.
"What were you doing in my house?!" Chase ripped Skye's bathing cap out of his paws.
"You said to investigate. Better question is 'why do you have a pink bathing cap?'"
"Isn't that Skye's?" Ella examined it, then turned a raised eyebrow look to Chase. His face felt so burning hot, he'd probably need Marshall to put it out.
"No," was all he could manage before they heard a car horn honk. They all turned to see Jake's pickup truck pulling up. "Oh, look! It's Jake!"" Chase said quickly, standing and jogging towards the truck.
"Lover-boy says 'what,'" Tomissen muttered.
"What?" Chase automatically said before smacking a paw to cover his mouth. Laughter erupted from three different pups as Chase continued towards the truck, face aflame.
"Chase! Dude!" Jake greeted, stepping out of his truck and shutting the door. He closed the distance between them and patted him on the head. "What's up, my pup?"
"A lot, actually," Chase admitted. "We need to talk." The others caught up, and Jake looked them over.
"Tuck, Ella! Hey! Tomissen, what's happening?"
"Mr. Paramour will be answering that question soon enough," Tomissen responded cheekily.
Jake eyed Chase. "Oh ho, Mr. Paramour, is it? Does it have to do with Skye's bathing cap?" He was looking at the pink object which Chase still had on his person. Cursing silently, Chase dropped it behind him with a blush.
"No, this is different. It has to do with the Sea Patroller."
Jake grimaced. "That was a gnarly explosion. Everyone's okay, right?"
Chase sighed. "Not exactly. See, we're dealing with a problem. Remember Sweetie?"
"That Terrier chick who visited with the princess last week? Everest told me she's trouble."
"She is. In fact, she has now taken most of the Paw Patrol hostage, including Everest."
Jake wrinkled his brow. "If this is a joke, dude, I don't think I get it."
"It's no joke," the others nodded to backup Chase. "They've been replaced with clones powered by meteor pieces in their collars. They messed up the jet and the Lookout then tried to escape on the Sea Patroller. There was an accident in the fight, and one of our members over pressurized the engine room, making it detonate. None of us were harmed."
Jake's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, my Everest is in some cage in England at the paws of a crazy princess-pup and was replaced by some synthodrone?!"
"That about sums it up," Tomissen interjected.
"What the heck are you still doing here?!" Jake asked frantically. "Why aren't you rescuing her?!"
Chase shook his head. "We can't just drop everything and go, we're the Paw Patrol! We need someone to keep Adventure Bay safe while we're out. The twins here have agreed to help out, could-?"
"Yes!" Jake cut him off. "Whatever it takes to get her back, I'm totally good to do. I'll keep an eye on town with the twins."
"Don't forget Luka and Tundra, too!" Rocky called from behind them, making everyone turn. Rocky led a group comprised of him, Marshall, Tanya, a blonde Labrador, and a white Husky.
"What are they doing out and about?" Chase growled as they approached, and the two clones quickly cowered behind the others. "What's with the color change?"
"Wait, who are the new pups?" Jake asked.
Marshall gestured proudly to the hiding pups. "Meet Luka and Tundra, our new friends!" They slowly came forward to meet Jake.
"Hi," Tundra said nervously.
"Hey, dudette," Jake crouched down and patted her head. "Hang on, you look a lot like Everest."
"That's because she is the Fake Everest," Chase said. "And that's the Fake Zuma, except somehow their fur colors are changed."
"Chase," Marshall addressed him with a calm voice. "We talked to them down in Rocky's Bunker. They've apologized for what they've done and offered to help make it right."
"You're going to trust them?" Chase gave Marshall an incredulous look. "After what's happened?"
"Yes I am." Chase was taken aback by the sincerity in his brother's voice and the determined look he held. "In fact, they've clarified something that we've had wrong from the start. The person who has been doing all this is Harold, not Sweetie. Harold took our other friends prisoner."
"Harold? They told you this?"
"They did, and on the back of their tags is the proof." Chase followed Marshall to Luka, who shifted uncomfortably under Chase's gaze. Gingerly, Marshall flipped his collar and showed Chase a symbol he knew all too well.
"Not that cat again," he grumbled, recalling that every device Harold made bore the feline insignia. Chase began thinking out loud. "Sweetie doesn't usually do things like this, does she? Usually, she's just focused on the crown or something, and she hasn't had exposure to the meteor before, so she wouldn't know the full extent of its capabilities. Harold has, and a plan involving clones sounds right up his alley. Also, Sweetie may have some good tech, but she's never done anything like cloning. That's something that's only ever been accomplished by one super powered annoyance that I can think of."
"So, it's not the royal pup?" Tuck asked.
"No," Marshall confirmed. "But Luka says Harold is set up beneath the castle in Barkingburg, in secret tunnels and catacombs."
"Harold," Jake spat. "That rotten brat thinks he can mess with my baby girl pup? If I had my way, I'd introduce him to my shotgun."
"You have a shotgun?" Marshall asked apprehensively.
"Pfft, duh. What kinda mountain dude doesn't have a shotgun to take down angry bears or the creeps who mess with his girls? I named it the Punisher," he grinned proudly, rubbing Tundra distractedly. The Husky's tail was wagging, and she smiled widely under the mountain man's touch.
"Oh, makes sense," the Dalmatian responded in a small voice. Chase could've sworn Marshall looked really nervous.
"If Harold is in Barkingburg, how come no one has noticed anything?" Ella asked.
Squeak!
"Busby?" An astonished Marshall whirled around to face the frog toy which Chase was sure wasn't there a minute ago. Busby stood on the pavement, dripping wet and with a strand of seaweed wrapped around his helmeted head, the scent of salt water and hay strongly radiating from him. Feather matted down; his helmet had sand particles sticking to the visor. His rounded bottom was caked in mud, and to top it all off, he had a leech on his back for some reason.
"How long has he been there?" Chase wondered aloud.
"For about eight minutes," Tomissen answered. "I thought it was one of your guys' toys when it rolled up." Busby rolled forward, everyone getting out of his way as he came to a stop in front of Marshall. The Dally examined it cautiously.
"Hey, Busby. What are you doing here?" Busby began rolling back and forth, rotating one direction and then the other, emitting an occasional squeaking sound.
"I believe it's attempting to communicate," Rocky said in an overly formal voice, keeping a straight face.
"Do you have a message for us?" Chase asked. Busby shook left and right, probably signifying 'no.'
"Do you have a message for me?" Marshall questioned, raising his eyebrows when the frog made a movement simulating a nod.
"Figures," Rocky mumbled. "It's probably a love letter." Chase sniggered as the robot began making all of his crazy movements all over again.
"If so, judging by how nuts he's moving, I don't think we want to know what it says." Several suppressed chuckles sounded.
"I can't understand. What are you trying to say?" Marshall asked the frog knight, ignoring the others. In response, Busby rolled backwards about a foot. Halting there, his eyes began to slowly glow blue as he stared at an empty space in front of Marshall.
"I think he's gonna do that hologram thing he does," Chase realized. They had seen him do it a couple of times, most notably when Sweetie had him play back the recoding of the Duke of Flappington's treacherous scheme a while back.
"Cool!" Rocky leaned forward, eyes intent on Busby. "This is totally like the movies. The princess sends her loyal droid with a holographic message meant for the heroes so that-" he was cut off when two beams of blue light shot out from the robot's eyes, striking the asphalt at Marshall's paws.
"Yikes!" Marshall yelped, falling backwards over into Tuck as Busby began bobbing and weaving, using his two laser beams to carve smoking lines into the driveway, the toxic fumes of the tar visibly wafted into the air. Everyone scrambled in retreat a few steps, a couple of them coughing. Chase soon recognized the scribbles to be drawn out cursive.
"He's writing his message," he declared. They all waited patiently for him to finish. When the lasers shut off and the light died in Busby's eyes, Marshall stepped forward to read it.
"'My mistress, Sweetie, has been captured by the despised doofus known as Harold Humdinger. She has sent me to request aid from the honourable Marshall the Dalmatian, to come and liberate her from the secret catacombs which run well beneath the passages of the castle. She pleas that you make haste in delivering her from the grubby glowing hands of the enemy.'" Marshall's eyes widened as he read the words out loud. He turned to Chase. "We need to help her! She's been nabbed and put with our friends!"
"I know," Chase tried to calm him. "First, we've gotta settle on the new plan. The jet is toasted and may take too long to repair, so we need a new way to get to Barkingburg." Chase jumped when Busby began writing in the pavement again, lasers flying furiously across the drive. When he finished, Marshall started reading it.
"'Better figure it out quickly, who knows what that petulant child is going to do to my queen and your friends while you're here sitting on your collective ar-'" Marshall was cut off when Jake clamped a hand over his muzzle. "Hmm? Whph?"
Jake removed his hand, and said in an apologetic tone; "Sorry, dude. I thought you should know that's not the best of words." He shot a glare at Busby. "Someone should teach this frog manners."
Marshall gave Jake a confused puppy look. "What does it mean?"
"It means butt, dude. Remember Ryder's little talk about Donkeys?"
"Oh!" Marshall said, but then his countenance fell. "Oh. Geez, thanks Busby, there goes my puppy-hood innocence."
Busby scribbled some more words into the ground which read, 'Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!'
"At least he's got good handwriting, er... eye writing?" Ella scratched her head as she tried to put a name to it. "Sighting writing?" Everyone chuckled. Busby's visor dropped over his eyes, giving him an almost crossed look.
"How'd you get here anyway?" Tanya asked the frog. He just stared at her silently for six seconds. "Okay, got it. Too terrible to tell, but I'm gonna guess you did your equivalent of swimming across some body of water, judging by the seaweed and leech."
"I know just what he needs!" Tomissen exclaimed suddenly, dashing off to the Lookout. "Be right back!"
"Well, Busby is right," Jake said, watching the beagle go. "We need to make our plan fast and get moving."
"Okay... okay, I'll deal with the matter of how we'll get to Barkingburg," Rocky announced. "You just worry about getting ready to go by tonight."
Chase whistled. "That's a short amount of time to find transport."
"I can manage," Rocky pledged.
"So be it. Jake: you, Tundra, Luka, and the twins can get settled in the Lookout. Rocky's almost got the communications back up, so you can manage the emergency calls that come in."
Jake saluted. "Yes sir, commander dude! I'll go grab my gear from my cabin." He gave Tundra one more tousle before jogging off to his pickup.
"Everyone else, let's go get-" Chase was cut off when Tomissen burst back on the scene with a large jar of rice. He set it down beside Busby and opened the lid before snatching up the robo-frog and jamming him into the grains.
"There we go!" He grinned proudly as he placed the lid on, leaving an upside-down knightly frog stuffed snugly in the white rice and looking angry somehow. "Just stay in there for a while and you'll be good as new!"
"What are you doing?" Tanya asked the beagle, semi-amused.
"Everyone knows that electronics that get wet should be stuck in rice to draw out the moisture." He pronounced the last word very carefully, like he had been practicing it.
"I don't think he's just any electronic," Luka laughed nervously. "I mean, did you see the laser vision?"
"He'll be fine," Tomissen assured him.
"It's not the frog I'm worried about," Luka muttered.
Chase cleared his throat to bring the conversation back. "Let's go get suited up. It's reasonable to assume that Harold has had access to our Barkingburg HQ through the jet's logs and Robo-Dog, so we can expect it to be compromised and our equipment ransacked. We'll just have to make do with the stuff we have around here."
Rocky rubbed his paws together. "If we need spare pup packs, may I suggest we look in Ryder's workshop?"
Chase scowled. Ryder never let any of them inside his personal workshop, and he was pretty sure Rocky just wanted to see what was in there. But then again, this was a desperate situation. "Sure," Chase conceded. "We'll go into the workshop, but only for what we need."
"Of course! Of course!" Rocky waved him off excitedly. "I'll help you guys get in before I go to work on the transportation problem."
"Come on, work for me," Rocky muttered as he sat on a chair, hunched over the control panel for the large metal door. Chase and the other pups, including Captain, waited patiently behind him. They were one floor below ground level in the hall outside Ryder's workshop, where he did most of his more private inventing. Chase had pulled over a chair so Rocky could comfortably reach the controls, and now he had the cover flipped open as he toyed with wires and cables with a set of tools provided by his pup pack. "If I do this one... nope, how about I cross you, hook you two up together, divorce him from her... rip him out and send him packing... wait! Oh, never mind. Actually... yes!" The door's locking mechanism sounded, and the heavy metal barrier began sliding to the side. Rocky hopped down with a pleased grin on his face. He turned to look inside of the dark room revealed by the open doorway. "And that, folks, is how things are done in Rocky World! The lights should turn on any m-m-moment..." his voice died when the room was suddenly illuminated, revealing a tidy workshop filled with shelves, tables, chairs, and equipment. Pieces of pup packs and vehicles were stacked in various places and incomplete projects awaited work on the tables. "Ryder! What have you been keeping from me?!" The mixed breed cried as he dashed into the room and disappeared amongst the technology. "So, this is where he hides the good stuff!"
"And we've lost our smart-guy," Tuck laughed. "We don't happen to have a replacement Rocky, do we?"
Chase chuckled. "Nah, but he'll be back soon, or of course we'll find him by one of the tables, geeking out." The group of pups entered the room, heads swiveling around to take in everything at once. Slowly, they all began to spread out in different directions, silently agreeing to see what they could find. Chase and Marshall ambled off towards the shelves in the back together, examine each one's contents like shoppers at the store. Chase was looking at a tennis ball launcher when Tomissen called.
"Hey! What's that?" Marshall and Chase moved over to him and found the beagle pointing at a thick book that was propped up on one of the tables. It was made of supple brown leather with a gold leaf binding and designs on the spine. Golden title letters were inlaid on the cover along with a name on the bottom right-hand corner: Thomas C. Redyr; Ryder's father. The book was a special gift from him to Ryder before he and Ryder's mother had to go, leaving the boy with Jake as a temporary caretaker. Chase missed them as much as Ryder, but their leader always told him that they had an important job that a lot of people depended on and that they'd be back soon enough. Chase vaguely knew that they worked in the government, but nobody would ever tell him anything more than that, which drove him mad.
"Oh, that!" Marshall smiled at the book; his eyes misty. Chase couldn't blame him. Most of the pups had many fond memories of late nights in front of the fireplace, all wrapped up in blankets, and listening to the deep, kind voice of Ryder's father reading to them. "That's Ryder's dad's book. It's the-"
"Not that," Tomissen pushed it over, revealing the golden trophy it was propped up against. "That."
"Oh, that's just the trophy for the Adventure Bay talent show."
"How did you win? What did you do?"
Chase stepped up. "We played a song we made as a band. 'You Can Call on Me.'"
"No way!" Tomissen gushed. "I love that song! You guys wrote that?!"
"Uh, yeah," Marshall said embarrassedly. "It wasn't that big of a deal."
"Nah, it was pawsome! You could totally have a musical career!"
"Guys!" Rocky beckoned the group to the doorway. Reluctantly, Chase and Marshall followed Tomissen away from the book and to the recycling pup. Everyone slowly gathered around him. Chase noted that Captain was toting a blue police pack, while Luke and Tundra carried a firepup pack and a water rescue pack. Tomissen had a mallet held in his jaws. Rocky himself was carrying a basket full of random objects. "I'm gonna get working on some new pup packs and our transportation problem. Bring whatever you find down the Gear Grotto and I'll-"
"Did you change the name of your hideaway?" Marshall smirked when the mongrel colored.
"Yeah," he challenged. "You have any suggestions if you don't like that one?"
Marshall grinned mischievously. "How about the Grottoman Empire?"
Rocky made a hostile grunt. "No. That's just stupid. Just bring your stuff down and hope I don't ban any certain pups." He spun around and marched out, basket in tow.
"Gear Grotto?" Ella and Tuck looked at each other confusedly.
"It's his secret bunker," Tanya informed them. "He seems sensitive about the name."
"We better give him our haul. Marshall don't come please; it looks like if he sees you in the group, he may just ban everyone," Luka said with a chuckle.
9:11 AM, Adventure Bay.
Marshall lay on his back on top of his bed in his pup house, gazing thoughtfully at the roof. He sighed, with nothing really to do to prepare for departure and no emergencies to resolve, he found himself with... nothing. Nothing except his thoughts, which at that moment weren't very cheery. All he could think about was his friends' capture, Harold's deeds past and present, and the fight the night before. Even though Chase had consoled him and strengthened his resolve, Marshall could still feel regrets and pains lingering in his mind. He was a master at PupFu, but he didn't like attacking people. He was supposed to be a tough firefighter, yet he felt weak in a sense; ashamed that he couldn't handle what had happened, but he also felt ashamed that he was ashamed of his feelings. What was noble and heroic about hurting people? What if he had to do it again in Barkingburg? 'For Everest,' he recalled his brother's earlier words. What was he willing to do for Everest? 'Anything,' was his answer; he would do anything and everything for her. Did anything include fighting? Couldn't this all be taken care of peacefully?
Subconsciously, his paw crept down to his nightstand drawer and slid it open. More aware, he gripped onto a familiarly soft object and brought it up to his nose, greedily inhaling the scent of his love that the red hat had. Marshall smelled it for a tad longer before turning to lay his cheek on it. How he missed that lavender Husky, and how he wished it was him who was taken by Harold and not her. He cuddled it, thinking about Everest.
Knock, Knock.
"Who's there?" Marshall called with a chuckle, staring at the door.
"Ai, mate?" Marshall's grin faded when he heard Captain's voice. "I need to talk to you."
Marshall steeled himself. "Sure, I'll be right out." He took one last deep breath, nose buried in the hat, before replacing it in the drawer, shutting it, and leaving bed. He crossed the floor, eyes so intent on the door he didn't notice the blanket hanging from the bed to the floor which, per his usual luck, decided that was the perfect time to do tango practice with his paws, wrapping itself around his legs. "Oh, great," he said rather calmly as he pitched forward and rammed the door, making it fly open as he tumbled past it and into Captain with the sheet fluttering behind him like a flag in the wind, knocking him to the ground.
"Well, it's never dull 'round here with you always kicking the doors down and crashing the parties," he stretched as he stood. "You right, mate?"
Chuckling, Marshall rose. "Yep!" He said in as chipper a tone as he could manage. "I'm impervious to damage via crash by now."
"I'm not asking 'bout that. If you had gone ten minutes without crashing or perfectly executed a feat of acrobatics without mishap, then I'd've been concerned." Captains smile faltered into a more serious face. "I'm askin' if you're alright after last night."
"Oh," Marshall said in a small voice. "Yeah... I'm good."
"Really? Because it seemed like what a certain Border Collie said on the beach stuck a thorn in your side."
Tail drooping, Marshall let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, you got me. I'm still not happy about that."
"How come?" He prodded softly.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because what you said made it sound like you had a disregard for life down there?" Marshall spat it out, tired of thinking about it and not saying anything. "I don't get how anyone can say something like that about somebody else. How could you be so fine with having killed three pups?!"
For the first time ever, Marshall saw Captain look sad. "I'm not gonna try and excuse myself, and my explanation mayn't be much chop, but the truth is that I was trying not to think about it because it hurts." Marshall saw a vulnerable light in the Collie's green eyes. "I know what I did and who won't be breathing another breath on this earth, and I'm not fine with that, but to continue the mission I have to push my feelings aside. It's how I've been trained."
"Trained?" Marshall asked.
He half grinned, half grimaced. "Long story; just know this ain't for nothin'." He turned his head, and Marshall saw a tattoo on the inside of his right ear: K313. "Yep, trained. If you don't know what it means, then maybe Chase can enlighten you. All I want to say is that I'm sorry for what I said, and I hope we can still be mates despite my huge flapper yapper."
Marshall thought for a bit. The Collie seemed sincere, and also like there was something he wasn't telling him; something incredibly sorrowful. Marshall smiled. "We can be. I forgive you... mate."
"'Forgiveness is a virtue of the brave,'" Captain quoted as he gripped the Dalmatian's paw in a gesture of camaraderie. "Anyway, Jake got back a bit ago and is setting up his temporary hobo-camp in the Lookout. Chase is giving him, the two Golden ones, and our other new friends the lowdown on takin' care of the town."
"Oh, that reminds me! I have someone I need to call."
"Oh yeah? Best leave you to it. See ya later." Captain turned and began walking away, singing to himself as he moved out of sight behind the other pup houses. It was a nice song but sounded somewhat sad. "One Sunday morning, as I was walking by Brisbane Waters I chance to stray. I heard a convict his fate bewailing as on the sunny riverbank he lay. I am a native of Erin, Ireland, but banished now from my native shore they stole me from my independence and from the maiden whom I do adore..." The Collie's voice faded as he went inside.
Reentering his pup house, Marshall closed the door and walked to his bed, leaping onto his belly atop it. Swiping his pup tag, he dialed a number. Rocky had reestablished a phone line for the tags, enabling them to communicate. He waited there, fiddling with his paws until a familiar voice sounded:
"Hello?"
Marshall grinned at the soft, sweet voice of his twin sister that always warmed his heart. "Hey Cinder! It's Marshall."
"Marsh!" He could practically hear her tail wagging through her soft voice. "I tried to call, but you didn't pick up. You know, with all of the news about an explosion down there, it's a bad time to ignore your relatives," she chastised lightly.
Marshall chuckled. "I wasn't trying to ignore you, sis; our tags were down last night."
"Still no excuse," she said in a soft, pouty voice before laughing softly. "So, what's up? How's everyone?" Her tone implied that she knew something was wrong.
"Straight to the point, as always Cin," the firepup sighed.
"What can I say? I have a gift."
"You mean We have a gift," Marshall corrected her with a smile.
"I've been feeling a lot of vaguely negative emotions from your direction for the past few days, and it's starting to give me a headache." Marshall nodded to himself. He and Cinder shared an... interesting bond, meaning they were close, in more ways than one. Since birth, the spotted puppies were linked with a neural connection, making it possible for them to share emotions and, if they were near enough in proximity, thoughts, allowing them to communicate silently. They both could transmit thoughts and feelings, though Cinder was more naturally adept at utilizing the link. The more distant from each other they were, the weaker the 'reception.' At one point, it had faded so much that they couldn't use it at all until Marshall had briefly met up with her on a road trip with Ryder and Chase to another city, reviving the link. Marshall had been so surprised and excited and elated and every other happy word ever invented to see her, and she had exhibited a similar mood as they caught up. It turned out apples don't fall far from the tree, as both of them had ended up firefighters like their parents, Cinder being the world's first Canine Fire Captain and Marshall the firepup for the Paw Patrol. Both Ryder and Chase had been introduced to her, and the two Dalmatians had spent the week together before Marshall had to head back to Adventure Bay. Since then, they had kept in touch, having phone or video calls at least every Wednesday and Sunday. The link hadn't faded either, allowing them to keep in touch on that emotional level and call when it was most needful.
"You've got me; we've a problem," he confessed.
"What is it, dear brother? Something I can help with?" Cinder's tone was very encouraging, full of safety and trust.
"Yes, actually. Do you remember me telling you about Harold? And the meteor?"
"Ah, yes. The petulant, blonde, mustache-haired, semi-super not-quite-genius child, relative of Humdinger, who gets the superpowers from the meteor and periodically fails to take over the town?"
Marshall chuckled. "Yep, that's the one. He's up to his tricks again. He's..." Marshall gulped, praying his tone held. "He's taken some of our friends hostage in Barkingburg, England, for an unknown reason and replaced them with carbon copies. When we discovered it, they sabotaged our stuff, attacked us, and tried to get away on the boat. Our friend, Captain-"
"Let me guess; he blew it up?"
"Spot on, Cin."
She whistled. "I like his style, he really made the national news. How is everyone else? I've been feeling lots of sorrow and regret from you."
"Nobody got hurt," he attempted to dodge the question's true meaning. "We're getting ready to go to Barkingburg to rescue our friends."
"Come on, you're not telling me the whole thing," she prodded softly. "What's the matter?"
"L-last night, I... I hurt someone... one of the copies. I attacked them," Marshall felt the hurt he had tried to bury in his chest expanding and turning into tear production. He blinked hard.
"Whoa, try to stay calm," Cinder said, sounding sad herself. "That was strong enough to pound me hard from there; I'm getting teary eyed. Guessing by your emotions; did the copy happen to be Chase or Everest?"
"E-Everest," he whimpered. "It was Everest."
Cinder cooed sympathetically. "Must've been tough, especially with how you feel about her. So, she was taken, huh?"
"Yeah, she was," he responded dejectedly. "I'm so worried about them, her in particular. Something is telling me Harold isn't playing nice this time around, and I'm not certain we'll stop him. This has been much more difficult to even figure out."
"That explains the strong moods," she said softly and then paused. "You've never failed a mission before, right?"
"No."
"Then don't worry; that won't change now, especially with what's at stake."
Marshall shook his head. "After last night, I'm not sure if I'll be able to handle this one."
"Now, now, that doesn't sound like the Marshall I know," Cinder mock scolded gently. "Remember? Do your best..."
"And forget the rest," Marshall finished. "Okay... I'll try."
"'Do or do not, there is no try.'" He could feel her smirk, and he couldn't help but smirk along with her.
"Fine. I will do my best and forget the rest," Marshall said, feeling his confidence building up, reinforced by his sister's words. He cleared his throat. "On a different note, turns out we made friends with the two surviving clones: the fake Everest and Zuma. They're now named Tundra and Luka."
"Ooh, I like those names," Cinder softly mused. "Luka sounds like a cool dude."
Marshall laughed. "I think he is. Anyway, we're going to be leaving soon, and we need someone to look after Adventure Bay in our absence. Aside from them, Jake is already here along with two of our other friends."
"Let me guess, you want me to cash in some of my vacation days to come and help out?" Marshall could faintly feel her playful mood.
"If you can manage, dearest sister."
She laughed light heartedly. "Of course I can! I've wanted to see what your place looks like, explosions aside anyway. I can take a week or two off, so I have plenty of time to hang out with you and your friends when you get back."
Marshall grinned. "That'd be great! I think after what's been going down, I need some good downtime with my sis."
"On one condition," she playfully declared.
"And what's that?" Marshall asked playfully in return.
"When you rescue Everest, try to get off your serious behind and tell her how you feel. I'm sure you'll have much less stress once you do."
"What happened to 'there is no try?'" Marshall teased.
"You know what I mean, Spots," she laughed. Someone knocked on his door. "Sounds like you need to go. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Yep, see you sis." Marshall hung up and went to the door. When it opened, it revealed Tanya standing there.
"Hey there, Mr. Dally," she greeted himself cheerfully. "Rocky is done with the packs, and you might want to check if he made any... additions to yours."
Marshall cocked his head. "Additions?"
She nodded. "I mean, I told him that giving Tomissen the extra set of wings was a bad idea. And who could possibly need a hammer that big?"
"Uh oh, I think I should go check mine, just in case," Marshall said as he hurried out the door.
"What the heck could I need a flame thrower for? I'm a firefighter for crying out loud!" Marshall stared incredulously at his red pack, item in question extended from the open side hatch.
Rocky grinned like a madpup. "You're a firefighter in two senses now; you can now fight with fire. And don't worry, if it gets out of control, you can just put it out with your hose."
"You're mental, you know that, right?"
"It's been implied," the mixed breed shrugged and walked away, leaving Marshall sitting on the floor in the Lookout living room. The Dalmatian shook his head before packing the flame thrower away. He reached down and patted Busby absentmindedly. The robot frog-knight had appeared out of nowhere, smelling like burned rice, and refused to stop following him around. Maybe Sweetie had made him Busby's handler, but the thought only made him more anxious to rescue her. And Everest. Both of them, neither of them more than the other. Because he liked them both the same. Or not the same, just... ugh. That was complicated, so he chose to ignore those thoughts entirely. Looking around the room, Marshall was silently wishing Ryder was there, but also glad he wasn't so that he couldn't go nuclear at what was taking place:
Tomissen was grinning wildly, brandishing the large sledgehammer extended from his black pup pack which was attached to a black jacket with one of Ryder's medals pinned to it, probably pilfered from the boy's workshop. He marched around, taking swings and occasionally deploying a police shield. 'Why Rocky? Just... why?'
Tanya's white vest had her matching pup pack with her usual medic kit, similar to Marshall's, but also a newly added claw arm, grappling gun, snowboard, and net. She wore a hat somewhat similar to Everest's, just white. 'Okay, those are useful things.'
Captain was happily prancing around in his new camouflaged green and brown fatigues jacket and brimmed hat, pup pack matching in color scheme. He had a tennis ball launcher protruding from the pack, more elongated than the German Shepard's version and with an aiming crosshair. Rocky, to Captain's increasing joy, had called it his tennis ball rifle. 'You're just encouraging him, dude.'
Tundra had a deep blue, almost purple, pup pack and vest on and a hat like Chase's. She was examining the megaphone, careful not to activate it and blast everyone's ears to oblivion in such confined quarters. As far as the Dalmatian knew, her loadout was exactly like Chase's. 'So, I guess she pulls the police duty while we're out, huh?'
Luka had a sky-blue outfit and helmet. His equipment was similar to Zuma's, with the exception of the firefighting hose and claw arm. 'Multi-use, I like it.'
Jake was busy setting up his temporary sleeping space, aka "hobo-camp," by the window, rolling out his pad and setting down his woodland green and brown bags. As promised, he owned a shotgun, which he had propped up meaningfully against the wall along with a satchel. Jake was also putting together his emergency kit, including bandages, ointments, sanitation wipes, duct tape, a flashlight, a switchblade, pepper spray, hot chocolate mix, binoculars, and so forth. 'He's starting to scare me. The Punisher? A shotgun for creeps who mess with his girl? I wonder what classifies someone as a creep to him...'
Ella and Tuck were both setting up their space too, pushing over their borrowed pillows and dog bowls. The twins would have free access to any pup pack as needful. 'They'll be our multitaskers. They're good at that, plus they've got that awesome car that can become two motorcycles. I'm kinda jealous of that...'
After watching his friends for a bit, Marshall stood up and walked over to Chase, who was hunched over his pack on the floor. Busby rolled at his heels, following closely and making a faint buzzing sound as he moved. When Marshall reached the policepup, he was about to say something to get his attention but noticed the handgun inside the pack. "How long have you had a gun?" He blurted, having never realized his brother had a firearm. Then again, Jake had one and Rocky professed to have one himself. Who didn't have one was the real question now. For all he knew, Rubble might secretly have been toting around an Uzi everywhere he went, and Skye could've been carry a Deagle in her pack.
Chase looked up. "As long as I've been a police officer, bruh." He said it like it was obvious, and it was, but Marshall still didn't want to sound like he hadn't been paying attention.
"I've never seen you use it," he defended himself.
"And you should be happy about that," the policepup said nonchalantly.
"Touché," Marshall responded, getting the point. "So, I've recruited some more help to watch the town," he said with a raised voice, getting the others' attention.
"Who is it?" Tanya asked.
"She's my sister, Cinder. She's actually my twin."
Jake glanced away from his stuff. "Dude, I didn't know you had a twin. Radical."
"She'll be here soon," Marshall continued. "And she will be hanging around for a week or two to help out."
"What's she like?" Tundra questioned curiously.
Marshall didn't have to think about the answer. "Cinder is friendly, understanding, nice, playful, soft spoken, and gentle."
"Yeah, she is," Chase added. "I met her once. Though the encounter was brief, that was enough for me to have a high opinion of her. I think you'll all enjoy her company."
"Always down to meet another twin," Tuck declared with a smile. Ella nodded her agreement.
"Too bad we'll be missing her arrival," Rocky cleared his throat. "Because I've figured out how we're getting to Barkingburg and we're going tonight."
"That was quick," Tomissen praised, still eying his hammer.
"Hey, I'm efficient. Anywho, everyone who's leaving should get ready for departure. I've got the location where we'll meet up with the guy in my pup tag."
"The guy? Who's this guy?" Chase asked, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.
"He's someone we know, but in the name of contract security, I've agreed not to disclose his name until we're underway."
"Sounds shady," Tanya frowned.
Rocky nodded. "I know, but you guys have gotta trust me."
Things were silent for a bit, everyone processing Rocky's announcement. Then Chase stood. "I trust you, brother. What does he want in return for ferrying us to England?"
Rocky smiled sheepishly. "Nothing a little stop by the Town Hall and the museum won't pay off." When Chase gave him a look, Rocky added quickly: "Don't worry! Nothing illegal! It's just that Mayor Goodway can help us out. I promise it's all good." He crossed his heart.
Chase sighed. "Fine."
10:00 PM, Undisclosed Location.
"You've got the goods?" The man asked, leaned up on the wall with his broad brown hat pulled low over his eyes and his leather boots kicked up on the table. The hat's feather drooped lazily in the darkness of the warehouse. Rocky and Chase hauled the sack onto the tabletop, contents jingling and rattling metallically, some of it spilling out of the mouth and into the light of the lantern, gleaming. The man reached forward and snatched one of the golden doubloons, bringing it to his mouth as he bit it. Satisfied, he grunted and replaced it.
"We have a deal?" Chase asked in a no-nonsense tone promising harsh retribution for double-cross. The man stood, cape swishing as he tilted his hat back and flashed a dashing grin. He rested one hand on the gilded hilt of the sword which hung at his waist.
"Arrby!" Sid Swashbuckle called with anticipation. "Me thinks we got a job! Get these land lubbers ready for cast off; we be a sailin' now!"
"Aye-aye, Captain Boss Mr. Sid, sir!"