AN: I finally have my DA set up on DeviantArt where you can find some art work I commissioned (not drawn, I cannot draw to save my life) my Marshall Gone Missing story is up there (More fics to come) and my Choose Your Own Adventure Story is up which you can take part in if you have an account.

Alright, let's continue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Paw Patrol


"Sure, we have to trust God, we have to keep our faith and know who we are in Him,
but sometimes, we gotta fight back."
- Unknown


Jonathan "Boomer" Sinclair wasn't sure if he was blessed or cursed. He had been born with an amazing talent in anything relate to explosives. He built his first set of fireworks when he was fifteen and became a demolitions expert in the army at the age of nineteen. He screwed it all up by accidentally mistiming a bomb in Iraq and killed three of his fellow soldiers which lead to his discharge, barley escaping murder charges. With no other choice, he turned to crime and offered his services to the highest cost, earning more money, and infamy, on the streets as "Boomer". When he felt he had enough, he got out of the game, married, and now had two kids while living off his "Wall Street" money and stocks.

And then he got a call from Damian Stone.

He had him as a client before, but he always regretted it. Damian's targets were always ones that involved innocent people, rather than just some rival crime gang or police on his tail. The biggest one that still haunted him was the hospital where an eyewitness to a murder Damian did died along with a bunch of others, including a section of the children's ward. It was that one that got Jonathan out of the game for good. He knew he was going to hell, but he at least wanted to live a normal life before it happened.

Unfortunately, when Damian Stone gives you a call requesting an explosive that can take down the HQ of an all pup rescue team, you obeyed. He sat there in his old storage garage, surrounded by equipment he hadn't used in seven years, watching Damian observe the stuffed dolls of the Paw Patrol his kids had. They were fans of the amazing rescue pups, both liking Chase the most, and it hurt Jonathan to know that their heroes were going to be ashes come tomorrow. But if it meant protecting his kids from Damian's wraith it was a small price to pay.

"I didn't know they made toys of those pups. If I had, I would have gotten some for target practice," replied Damian Stone as he put the stuffed animal of Zuma down. "So, the bomb is in all of them?"

"Yes," replied Jonathan, showing the Skye one. "I place the plastic explosives inside the dolls. My plan is to ship them to the Lookout. You can then detonate them all at night."

"Clever," replied Damian Stone. "I'll send some men to do this, plus as back up in case something goes wrong." He then eyed Jonathan. "And you better hope nothing goes wrong."

A cold sweat went down Jonathan's neck. "N-nothing will go wrong. I doubt those pups will survive the explosion or their human owner."

Damian was quiet for a bit before he smiled. "Well, then I guess we have nothing to worry about." He made his way to the exit of the garage. "My men will be here in thirty to pick them up. You'll wait here until the job is done, understood?"

"Y-yeah, sure," replied Jonathan, taking a deep breath when he saw the psychopath leave. He thought about the news headlines about how five pups and one owner were killed in an explosion and the tears his boys would have asking why did this happen. Jonathan would just have to lie and say it was just the way it was.


It was quiet in the Lookout, but there was a good reason for it. Ryder had told the pups everything that Detective Shaw had told him yesterday. At first, they were all ecstatic that Zuma was alive. Rocky was crying tears of joy even. However, that all became bitter sweet when they were told what Zuma had done. None of them had expected the once sweet surfer pup to show such brutality and rage towards those who had committed such crimes. A few of them had wept, knowing that the once kind and loving Zuma they knew was no more. He had fallen down the dark path and Rocky couldn't help but blame himself again.

Rocky knew what it was like to want revenge. He dreamed about killing his owner for a long time for killing his younger brother, even after he was sentenced to jail. It lessened over time, especially when he got closer to the others upon joining the team. That didn't mean it still wasn't there.

Now Zuma's fully fallen into darkness, thought Rocky as he stared at the ocean once more. He wasn't alone; however, Skye was there with him as support while the others were busy. Rubble was learning from Ryder what "euthanization" was upon asking about it while Chase was comforting Marshall who was still coming to terms with the knowledge they would face Damian Stone again.

The idea of facing that monster scared them all, but they were determined to stop him this time. Dead or Alive.

"Do you think we'll find Zuma before the authorities do?" asked Skye, biting her lip. "I know what he did was wrong… but he doesn't need the needle! He needs help!"

"We have too," replied Rocky, unable to even think of seeing his best friend and crush "go to sleep" as it were. "Ryder says he'll think of something. He's got a lot of favors and contacts after all."

"… how are you doing?" asked Skye, looking at him with pity in her eyes. "Rocky, I know you love him. You can tell me anything."

"… I'm scared," replied Rocky, whimpering. "If he dies because of Stone or from the law… I can't go through that again…" He turned to Skye as well. "I can't even think of any of you dying…"

She nuzzled him gently, letting him cry a bit on her shoulders. "We'll find a way to save Zuma… even if it means going against the law."

"Don't let Chase here you say that," replied Rocky with a small laugh. He then frowned and tilted his head. "You still don't have feelings for him?"

"No," replied Skye with a sigh. "I won't deny he would be a good boyfriend… and maybe down the road I might consider it… but I'm not interested in him yet."

"Why? If you don't mind me asking," replied Rocky. "I mean, I love Zuma, but Chase isn't that bad of a guy."

"… Rocky, were pups," replied Skye, smiling at him sadly. "We maybe rescuers who have done amazing things, but were still kids. I'm not ready to think about such things as love or mates while I'm still so young. There will be plenty of time for it later. Maybe then I'll think about taking Chase as a boyfriend, but with everything that's going on and the fact that were so young makes me think we should enjoy what we have now before we are old enough. I mean, we can't be Paw Patrol forever, right?"

Rocky was about to retort, but he stopped. What were they going to do when they grew up? Would they really be Paw Patrol still or try something new? Chase was always going on about joining the FBI when he got older. Marshall admitted he wanted to raise a family one day. Even Zuma once told him of his dream of being a full-time surfer one day when he was old enough.

I guess it can't really go on forever, thought Rocky as he stared into the sunset.


He was home.

After so many years of being away, Zuma had returned to Costal City. The city where he was born and raised. He hadn't step one paw here since his family died at Damian Stone's hands all those years ago. Having secretly hitchhiked on a pickup truck while the owner was taking a leak, Zuma landed on the streets of a city that felt like a stranger yet familiar at the same time. A part of him did want to see how much had changed from his old town, but he knew he had to find a place to sleep before making plans on how to take Stone down.

Hearing sirens, Zuma quickly ducked into an ally and let the cop car pass. Normally, he wouldn't have hidden himself from the police but after what Zuma did to those drug dealers and corrupted cops, he knew that he was a wanted dog. What Zuma had done was murder, plain and simple. It wasn't justice, it was revenge.

Not that it mattered. He wasn't going home. He wasn't even going to survive this and he knew it. One lone pup against Damian Stone's entire operation? It was a one in a million chance.

I'm going to die even if I do kill him, but at least I'll take him with me, thought Zuma, darkly. He had nothing to live for anyway. He couldn't go back to being Paw Patrol where his friends would either be in constant danger, or hated him now for ruining their lives. His family was dead, buried six feet under and most likely bones by now. All he had was Damian Stone and a grave to fill them both in.

He walked along the curb of the streets, trying to remember where he was when he heard a scream nearby. Unable to ignore it, because of who he was, he rushed over to an ally where three Doberman were surrounding a male white terrier, one of which had him by the throat. Zuma pressed behind a dumpster to listen in on what was going on.

"Look! Dominic, I told you what I knew! It wasn't my fault that your boys got ambushed by the Fresh Dog Crew! I don't get information like the internet here!" shouted the white terrier. "Come on, you don't want to kill me! I've been good! You want to know where the latest shipment of doggie treats is coming? I can get ya the place!"

"I lost four men to those Fresh bastards and one of them was my cousin, Frisk," growled the biggest of them which seemed to be the leader. "The Domination Dogs do not let debts go unpunished."

"Y-yeah, about that. You see there is this theory going around that the worlds governments are controlling people through debt and that their pushing it so the world becomes more dependent on the elite so by focusing on a debt you're really just-"

"Enough! Kill the son of a bitch."

Zuma had heard enough and came out of hiding. "Hey!" They all stared at him. "Let him go."

"Or what? A stupid pup like you is going to do something?" asked the leader with a smirk before turning to his other good. "Roger, teach this mutt a lesson."

The other Doberman nodded before walking towards Zuma with his teeth showing in a sadistic grin. Zuma noticed a broken bottle nearby and then at the Doberman before making his choice. Faster than anyone could see him, Zuma made for the bottle, grabbed it with his teeth, and jumped forwards, swinging it against the older dog's neck. Before the big guy knew it, his throat had been sliced open and he struggled to breath before falling motionless. He was dead before he knew it.

Everyone else gasped and stared at the site, the Doberman holding the Frisk dropped him, but the white terrier was too shocked to run for it. Growling, Dominic turned to his other Doberman and barked at him to kill. Growling, the rage fueled Doberman charged forward as did Zuma. Using his height to his advantage, he slid across the ground, avoiding the bite of the bigger dog that would have torn his head off. Using the bottle still in his mouth he stabbed upward and sliced down, cutting a big tear in his opponent stomach. The wounded Doberman howled as his belly's contents were unleashed, falling on his side as he tried to hold them in while in a pool of his own stomach blood. Zuma had some of that blood on him, but he didn't care, just stared at the final Doberman who was now stepping back a bit.

"W-what the fuck are you!" shouted Dominic, staring at his two down minions. "You psycho?!"

"No, I just don't fear death," replied Zuma in a monotone voice. "You want to join your friends? Or do you want to get the hell out?"

Dominic took the second option and ran like hell. Zuma spat out the bottle, knowing that he was most likely going to see that dog again, but he would be ready.

Suddenly, he was tackled on his side in a friendly hug by the white terrier who looked at him like a long-lost brother. "Thanks a million pal! Wish I wasn't so bloody, but their blood is better than my blood!" He started leading Zuma, against his will out of the ally while ignoring the dying Doberman's cries for help. "Name's Frisk! I know everyone, everybody, and everything going on in Costal City. You new here?"

"I used to live here," replied Zuma.

"Great, welcome back. Things might have changed a bit, but we're still the great city we've always been," replied Frisk as they stopped in front of a corner and the tail wagging terrier turned to Zuma with a smile. "Listen, I owe you buddy. Those guys would have sent me off to the great boneyard in the sky I'm not ready to bite the dust yet. So whatever information you need, it's free from me!"

"… you know everything that's happened, right?" asked Zuma, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty much," replied Frisk with a grin. "And if I don't I'll find out in a day or two. I got contacts everywhere. The Info Dog they call me."

"… I need to know where Damian Stone is," replied Zuma.

The smile on Frisk's face fell. "Why the hell do you want to know where that guy is?"

"I'm going to kill him," replied Zuma.

There was a brief silence between the two before Frisk started laughing. He laughed so hard that he fell on his back and started kicking the air. Zuma stared at him with no amusement as hysterical terrier continued for a few minutes before he got up and started to wipe tears from his eyes. "Oh, that's a good one kid. That's a good one."

"I'm being serious," replied Zuma, growling. "If you're not going to help me…"

"Woah, woah, easy their bud, easy!" replied Frisk, raising his paws up. "You're talking about killing the most dangerous man in the entire city. Do you know what this guy has done? So much fucking shit that he makes Charles Manson look like Saint Mother Teresa."

"I know what he's done," replied Zuma, lowering his face as he trembled. "He killed my family. Hurt my friends. I want to make him pay."

"… alright," replied Frisk, shrugging. "But listen, I don't know where the guy is… He's got a dozen safe houses and moves every day. Makes sense when you got police and FBI on your tail. There's also the fact that he has a hundred guards in each location, so unless your Batman you're going to end up joining your family."

"Well, what do you suggest?" asked Zuma, growling.

"You gotta make him come out. Take out his operations. Make him angry. Angry people do something stupid. Then you strike," suggested Frisk.

"… do you know a drug dealer by the name of Stephen?" asked Zuma.

"Stephen of The Reds? Yeah, he's on the docks with his crew most of the time, dealing the dope they get and cutting it before sending it out on the streets," replied Frisk with a smile. "You know, that bastard does hate dogs so you'd be doing all us canines a favor."

"Great, I'll be sure to pay a visit tomorrow night," replied Zuma as he heads out.

"Yo, you got a place to stay? I got a shelter that can fit us both," replied Frisk.

"No… there's a place I need to stay tonight," replied Zuma as he walked away.


The next day, in order to help the pups get their minds off of what was going to happen with Zuma or Damian Stone, Ryder decided to hook up Pup Pup Boogie on the TV. Rocky couldn't remember the last time he played Pup Pup Boogie; he had forgotten how much fun it was. Or how painful of a dancer Marshall was when he did the tail spin move. Groaning, Rocky found Marshall's butt on his face before he pushed him off. "I'm glad to see somethings don't change," replied Rocky as he got up with Marshall's help.

"Sorry, I don't know why I can't get that tail spin move down," replied Marshall, scratching his head.

"It's okay, you got a nice butt anyway," said Rocky with a wink, making Marshall blush. "I'm kidding."

"R-right," replied Marshall, rubbing the back of his head. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!"

Marshall ran off while Rocky sat next to Chase to watch Rubble and Skye face off at the dancing game. He watched for a few minutes before Chase asked him, "So what's the H.A.V.O.C. armor like?"

"You'll see tomorrow when we start training for it," replied Rocky with a prideful smile. Working on that armor and gear was one of the best things he ever accomplished. "But I can say this, we're going to be like a SWAT team when we go out using it."

"Sure hope it's enough," replied Chase, before smiling at Rocky. "But I have faith in you and Ryder, Rocky."

"Thanks, Chase," replied Rocky.

"Hey, guys! Check this out!" shouted Marshall, getting their attention as he pushed forward a box. "This came for us."

Pausing the game, the pups all walked over to it and sniffed it. "Well, it's not food," replied Rubble, poking it. "I wonder what it is?"

"Hey, pups," replied Ryder as he walked over and saw the package. "Who's this for?"

"For all of us!" shouted Marshall, wagging his tail with excitement. "Open it up and see what it is, Ryder!"

Ryder did so and smiled as he pulled out toy dolls of the pups in their gear. "Oh, yeah. I heard about these. Some toy company made dolls of you guys."

"Woah! Neat!" shouted Rocky as he took his and started shaking it around. "It looks just like me."

"Mine too!" said Skye, playing with hers.

"Hey, Little Marshall. I'm Big Marshall! Wanna play!" said Marshall as he placed his doll on his back and started running around, trying to keep it balanced.

Chase stared at the dolls his friends were playing with and then at his own. He sniffed it again. There was something… weird about the smell. Like he smelled something not natural. There was… something… wrong about it. And it gave him a bad feeling deep inside.


It was night time at last. Zuma, wearing his cloak, had made his way to the docks while grateful for the knowledge of the path from his memories. He quickly found a hole in the fence to climb through and made his way to the lower docks which Frisk told him earlier today was where the shipments were coming in. Jumping on some boxes, he found higher elevation until he could see the entire operation from a single dock with a lit-up cargo hold. There was at least a dozen or so guys moving around, either taking stuff off a small boat or heading into the cargo hold where some people were cutting it up and repackaging it.

If he was the old Zuma, he would have called Ryder or the cops. If this was he old Zuma, he would have found a way to take them all down. But that Zuma was weak. That Zuma was dead. He was new. He was deadly. He was no longer afraid.

Are you?

Zuma looked around, wondering where that voice came from, but he shook his head. "Must be losing it."

Of course, Zuma wasn't stupid. He needed a plan. It was pitch dark except for all the lights from above, shining down on everyone. If he got that out…

Like a shadow he moved to his first target.


After playing with the doll versions of themselves, the pups had dinner and soon went to bed. Ryder kept the dolls in the Lookout's bottom level while the pups went off to their houses to sleep. All but Chase that is. He didn't know what it was, but something about the dolls made him feel… on edge. There was a smell to them that he knew but couldn't name. It had kept scratching the back of his mind since he first thought of it.

Staring at the moon above, Chase decided to get up and stretch his legs a bit. He began to walk around when he saw something on the bridge connecting their island to the mainland. The moonlight helped show that it was several people on the bride, but it was too far for him to see. "Wish I had my night vision goggles," replied Chase as he began to get a bad feeling again. Rushing over to Rocky's house he nudged him a few times to wake him up. "Rocky. Rocky! Wake up!"

"Uh, Chase? Why are you waking me up so late?" yawned Rocky as he got up and scratched his ear.

"What's going on?!" asked Marshall, getting up.

"Hey, I'm trying to sleep here!" shouted Rubble as he walked over with his sleep mask still on. Skye was right behind him before she pulled it off his head.

"Rocky, do you still have that telescope made from that pipe and several glass shards?" asked Chase.

"Y-yeah? One sec," replied Rocky as he went into his dog house and came out with it in his mouth. "Don't lose it. Reuse it. But why do you want to use it?"

"Follow me," replied Chase as he took the modified telescope and lead the others to the hill. They stopped as Chase took the invention and looked through. While it wasn't perfect, it was enough for Chase to see that he was right. There was a bunch of guys in ski masks on ATV's looking at the Lookout's direction. He quickly told this to the others.

"W-what are they? Thieves?" asked Marshall, shivering.

"Or worse… Stone's men…" replied Rocky, growling.

Chase growled as well. "We need to get, Ryder. Grab whatever equipment from your vehicles and-"

That was when an explosion occurred that rocked the pups off their paws. A series of fireballs erupted from the Lookout, shattering glass as the houses they once held both as home and vehicles were destroyed one by one in a blaze from the explosion. Smoke and fire erupted as the five members of Paw Patrol got up and gasped in horror as their home was burning right in front of them. They stood there frozen as the tower that stood proud and strong began to burn like wood in an oven.

Their home. Their tools. Their memories. Burning to ashes before their very eyes as the orange and red glow reflected off their wide pupils. Then another realization came as something-or rather someone-more precious to them all was reminded in their heads as to who was still inside. In an instant, all five voices cried out with terror they never heard from their vocals.

"RYDER!"