AN: Yup, here we are with another update of Zuma's Fear. So, yeah, the show's kinda getting a bit slow. Not in terms of quality, it's still a great show, but we're getting less episodes due to large breaks. I think Nick is trying to milk this show slowly due to the overwhelming toy sales. They're seeing this as the next Dora's Explore and they are going to take it all the way.
Kinda makes me wish I can get Canadian TV if only to see the episodes earlier, but I guess Youtube will have to do.
Also, just so people know, I don't have a Wattpad account nor do I plan on getting one. I know a lot of Paw Patrol writers use that instead of Fanfiction . net but I have no plans getting one.
Anyway, Zuma killing bad guys. Enjoy
Disclaimer: I do not own Paw Patrol
"I realize now that it will take time. That the road is long and shrouded in darkness. It is a road that will not always take me where I wish to go, but I will travel down it nonetheless." -Connor Kenway
Being a guard was not always the most exciting job to have. You had to stay in a single place for hours, outside in often bad weather, holding a heavy gun, and often having nobody to talk to if you weren't with a partner. The most excitement you could get was getting an order to check something out that turned out to be a stray cat or a homeless bum looking to sleep somewhere. One of the said guards was currently going to check out why one of the patrolmen hadn't answered his radio.
"God, this place is cold. Why did we have to work near a pier," he complained while lighting a cigarette in his mouth while holding his machine gun in the other. Letting out a few puffs, he turned towards the large shipping crates that scattered around the place to look for his fellow guard. "Oi, Jeff. Where the fuck are you?"
Getting no response, he continued to look around until he turned the corner and nearly tripped over something. Looking down, he froze as the cigarette fell from his mouth. The guard he had been looking for was lying on the ground, throat torn open, and staring into the sky with his lifeless eyes open. Before he could respond, the guard that found the said body felt something slam into his head, forcing him down to the pavement face first. He struggled to get up and call for help but the blows kept coming. A few hits and he was unconscious. A few more and his brains were poking out of his skull.
Zuma tossed away the blood pipe he had used and refocused himself on the cargo hold where the drugs were being dealt. He needed to find a way to get the lights out and take out the place without getting himself killed. There were already a great number of guards around the area and all of them armed to the teeth. Killing them silently one by one wouldn't work for long until they realized they were getting picked off one by one. I have to deal a heavy blow in one shot before I can take them down one at a time, he thought. Damnit, this is why Ryder was the one behind all the planning.
Shaking his head, he muttered, "Calm down, Zuma. You can do this. Let's get to the hold at least." He dragged the two bodies someplace where they wouldn't be found before taking to the shadows with his cloak once again.
It didn't take him long to reach the cargo hold via the shadows as he hugged his back to a crate and poked his head out. There were three long tables, all filled with drugs, that were being chopped, powdered, and packaged into bags before ending up in a large box filled with hundreds of them. Zuma growled upon seeing such filth, and tried to see if he could spot Stephen according to Frisk's description of him: a half Latino half Caucasian bald man with a red bandana with a diamond symbol on top. Zuma spotted him on a balcony looking over everything from a rundown office window.
So how do I get all of them? Thought Zuma, wishing he had some gear on him. Moment I charge in I'm dead. The moment I get caught I'm dead. I must even the odds…
He ducked away to see what he could around the area. On the other side was a generator with some tools lying around, such as wire cutters, a blow torch, a wrench and so forth. Hmm, this might work…
He then looked around spotting a few cars, more tall metal shipping containers lined up on top of each other, including a set that was being held by a shipping crane not to far from the area. That works even better.
Zuma grinned as a plan soon came together.
Stephan was looking at the locations for this week's drug drop when everything went dark in the entire area. His worker gave shocks of surprise before angry asking who was it that turned the lights out. "Oh, for crying out loud. I thought Hoffman fixed the generator," replied Stephan, who got off his seat and stomped out of his office. His workers and guards were bumping into each other like a bunch of headless chickens, cursing and feeling around for the area. "Oi! Assholes! Stop moving around or else you're going to knock over the goods! Stay put! And somebody get Hoffman to fix the generator proper this time!"
He rubbed his forehead, hoping this wouldn't hinder the work process for long. Damian Stone made it clear that the drugs were to be pushed none stop to these locations, most of which were to be handed to some Arab and Russian guys he never met. His thoughts were interrupted when he smelled… something burning in the air? Not fire smoke, thankfully, but just something burned. It made him want to take a cigarette. He putted out a smoke and was about to lite it when match when out from… water? He felt at first a few drizzles before it started pouring like crazy from above. "Shit! Who turned on the sprinklers!" He gazed down, narrowing his eyes to see the damage. Already the water was wasting away the cubes of cocaine they still hadn't cut up yet. "Protect the drugs, man! Seal the boxes! Don't let them get ruined!"
His men went to work, but in the darkness the only bumped into each other or slipped from the already wet floor. Stephen wondered what the hell caused this until he remembered the smell of the burning air. Cursing, he ran down the walkway and rushed down the stairs until he was at the bottom. Sniffing the air, he still smelled it and hurried over to the far-right corner of the area where he found the source coming from on top of a ladder. He went up the ladder and found what he was looking for. A blowtorch, set to automatic, flowing right above one of the fire detectors they set up in the place on the wall.
"Who the hell…" he muttered as he turned it off and climbed on down. That's when he felt his foot step on something long and thin. He looked down, taking out his phone and turning on the light to see what it was. His eyes widened. It was a cut wire. There was a whole bunch of them. Right on the water that spread across the entire floor. He looked up, seeing them hooked up to a fuse box that was currently off.
"Hey, Hoffman says the power is about to come back on!" cried a voice
"Oh, shit!" shouted Stephen as he quick jumped onto one of the boxes just as the lights turned on.
At that moment, thousands of volts of electricity erupted from the wires and traveled down the wet floor. Everyone in the building, be it guard or drug cutter, screamed in pain as their bodies shook with convulsions. Their cries of agony were only heard for a minute before they silently fell to the floor, twitching yet not breathing.
"Holy crap!" shouted Stephen, with his heart to his chest. Thankfully, the crate he was on was made of wood and the electricity wasn't getting to him. Taking out his phone, he quickly called Hoffman. Once he answered, Stephen yelled, "Turn it off! Turn the goddamn power off!"
Thankfully, Hoffman didn't ask questions and did so as the entire area went dark. Stephen waited a few minutes for the water to uncharge itself before rushing as fast as he could towards the exit gate. Once far enough, he caught his breath as some of the guards rushed over, asking what the fuck happened. "Shut up! Let me breathe!" He took a few more gasps before calming himself. "We got a rat! Somebody turned the power off and set the place up so that it shocked everyone inside! Check every area and-"
"Boss! Look!"
He turned around and saw nothing, but when he looked up he gasped. The crane that had been holding the containers not to far from where they were working was moving. It positioned itself right above the cargo hold until it dropped its containers.
"Down!" shouted Stephen, diving for the pavement.
The heavy containers smashed into the cargo hold's roof, shattering it as the force of the weight crushed it and sent parts of the area scattering into the air. The men tried to scatter or duck, but found themselves knocked out or crushed by the scattering debris. Stephen opened his eyes only to see one of the guards get their head smashed to a pulp from a lose I-beam.
A dust cloud, combined with the powdered drugs, soon overtook the area, as Stephen slowly got up along with a few others who could barely tell what was in front of them. Coughing, Stephen tried to give out orders, but the dust prevented him from speaking right. Suddenly, one of the guards yelled as he was taken down by something small and fast, his silhouette sinking into the dust as he continued to scream before it was silenced. The others put their weapons upon, trying to aim, but then another was taken.
This time they fired, but the dust made it harder to see. One by one, Stephen saw his guards get taken down by some kind of beast before he was the only one left.
Determined not to fall pray to this thing, he ran like hell through the dust cloud, only to find himself tripped and fall face first. Holding his bleeding nose, a paw pressed itself against the back of his head to slam it down again. "I want you to send a message to your boss…"
Stephen froze upon hearing such a hate filled voice and only nodded his head. "Tell him, that I am a sin of his past come to take him to hell with me."
"O-okay…"
And with that the paw was gone.
Stephen held his breath until he was sure he could move again. He slowly looked over the damage that a single dog of all things caused. The dust and drugs finally faded as he saw all his guard either crushed, knocked out, or with their faces torn off or throat eaten out.
Stephen let out a bit of his lunch before slowly reaching for his cellphone to call for help.
Up above on a container, Zuma removed his hood and cloaked that covered his head and mouth. He saw the destruction he had rained down upon one of Stone's work areas and grinned. "This went better then I thought."
Of course, this was just one victory. One stage to messing up Stone's work. If I piss him off enough, he'll come for me. That's when I'll get him.
What bothered Zuma was that he had taken lives again. The largest amount of lives he had ever taken. He looked at his blood-soaked paw and realized he felt nothing. Guess I am a monster now…
With one last look, he turned away and disappeared into the night.
