AN: Hey guys, I'm back. I know people keep getting upset I don't update fast, but you have to understand that I live a busy work life especially since holiday season is here. It's kinda why my Chapters are a bit shorter then usual, I'm trying to update at a reasonable time limit here.
Anyway, I finally started watching the latest season. So far the voices I can't fully judge if they are good or bad, but Rubble's sounds more like a kid then it previous did so that's a plus in my book since he is the youngest. Anyway, read on.
Disclaimer: I do not own Paw Patrol
"The battlefield is a scene of constant chaos. The winner will be the one who controls that chaos, both his own and the enemies." -Napoleon Bonaparte
One of the lessons that he learned from Oriel was that in order to escape from danger, you had to create a distraction. The more chaotic the distraction, the easier it was to escape. Chaos was, despite its name, something that could technically be controlled. You just had to be the one to manipulate it to your design. The foolishness of having so many weapons and explosives in an old building was that one bad shot or explosion could set the whole place on fire.
One unpinned grenade and you had your chaos.
Zuma watched with a grim satisfaction the screaming and shouts of horror from the scumbags who owned the burning gear. They were just as bad as Stone in their own ways, regardless of their reasons. If he had his way, he would lock them in here to burn, but he had to escape and avoid the police. He knew that they would want him captured for all his vigilante justice, but he wasn't ready to get arrested yet.
With a turn of his cloak, Zuma disappeared into the smoke.
"Infiltration Team! What the hell happened?!" Agent Kennedy's voice yelled on the radio.
"I don't know! Some sort of explosion triggered and now the entire place is catching fire! Might be the other intruder!" Blue answered, ducking low to avoid the smoke.
"We got units already being fired on by the front gate. Blue, see if you can help them out! Officer Chase, I want you to open the rear entrance for the second squad!"
"Roger!" both said and were about to separate when Chase turned to Blue. "Hey, Blue? Good luck."
"Whatever," Blue said before retreating down a different hall.
Chase sighed as he looked over the burning room and wondered if Zuma had a hand in this. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the smells around him, pushing himself harder than normal. Wait a second… there! Got him!
Chase opened his eyes and rushed as fast as he could, hoping he could find his friend before he was gone.
This would be the second time that Rubble was using his Havoc Armor, and the second time he was intentionally trying to take lives. Despite being fully committed to the cause of finally taking Damian Stone down, even if it meant bloodying his paws, the young bulldog wanted nothing more than to return to the good old days. The days when he and his five friends would just play around while helping the town with whatever emergency happened. He would even take rescuing Chickaletta from some situation she got herself into again. Now here was, using a fully powered grenade launcher, on a bunch of thugs who were firing at him with machines guns and pistols.
One single shot and they scattered in fear or in pieces. SWAT was beside him, using cover or their bulletproof shields to protect themselves while firing with guns of their own. They had been reluctant to let Rubble lead on with them, but one blast of his launcher and all arguments were silenced. Looking above, he could see Skye in her Havoc Armor launching her missiles at targets on the other side of the building.
His thoughts were interrupted when his armor began to take a beating from heavy machine gun fire, with his visual warning systems telling him to take over. Ducking behind a truck, Rubble winced as he saw a few circuits spark on his armor. Data began to appear on the right side of his visor, letting him know that it was a 12.7×108mm. If I hadn't been in cover a second later, it might have gone through the armor.
Others, sadly, weren't as lucky as Rubble winced upon seeing two SWAT offers lying down with their arms blown off and in a pool of blood. I'm not even throwing up from this anymore. God, what's becoming of me?
Paw Patrol was a serious job with a serious task, but there had always been an element of fun to it. An adventure for pups like him to learn and grow under a safe cover that things would be alright. This isn't fun anymore. Maybe it never will be again. Will this be our future? Dealing with criminals like this?
"Hey!" a voice shouted, and he spotted the captain of the SWAT team looking at him while they shared the same cover. "We're pinned down. Any ideas from your side?"
Rubble thought about asking Ryder for help when he remembered something from his talk with his owner when going over his armor's functions. There was a feature he hadn't used yet and felt it was time to try it out. "Yeah, follow me and stick behind the truck." Rubble put his grenade launcher back in his pack before turning to face the large truck he was being protected by. "Ruff! Power Paws!"
The armor section in his paws began to glow bright yellow as Rubble felt his strength get a boost like that of a bust of mountain dew. Gritting his teeth, the tiny pup was able to slowly push the truck forward like it was a cart full of rubber toys. The SWAT officers watched with wide eyes as Rubble created a moving shield for them to take cover under while getting closer to their targeted entrance.
"Holy shit, I want one of those!" one officer shouted in amazement.
"Ask if from Santa! For now, cover fire as we advance!" The SWAT captain ordered as he and his men began to fire back while advancing with Rubble.
FBI Agent Blue was a discipline dog. He had to be in order to make it to the rank he was. He had been in attempted terrorist bombings, drug raids, manhunts, and outright anarchist riots. Few were close to him outside of his family, old friends on the Police Force, and his partner Agent Kennedy. It wasn't that he wasn't social, he did enjoy himself at the family reunions and get togethers that he was invited to. He just preferred to focus himself on the mission at hand.
However, for the first time in a long time, he found himself thinking about something other then the mission. Or rather, someone. His mother's death had changed his family forever. Not only had their name been disgraced because of her actions, but it was forever a black mark that they had to live by. Ever single one of them had lost one of the most important dogs in their lives. Blue loved his mother, and he still did. She was his idol, the dog that he did his best to live up to before her madness.
And Chase, his so-called half-brother was a reminder of her crime. Her crime of killing innocent pups and committing suicide. Their family had been Catholic, and it was a dark day when they had to bury her in a Non-Catholic graveyard for her sins. Sins that most likely had sent her to the burning pits of hell itself. Blue stopped going to church after his mother's funeral because he could never worship a God that was to condemn his mother to eternal damnation. She was the real victim because of the rape. The rape which caused her to lose her mind and lead her to her actions.
That was what he told himself every day at least.
Deep down, he knew it was wrong to blame Chase for his mother's actions, but just looking at him he saw her eyes. His mother's warm and beautiful eyes that used to help him sleep at night when he had nightmares as a puppy. He hated him. Hated his existence. He, a pup who should have never been born, got to live while his mother died. Blue wished it had been reversed, that this stain on his mother's honor died with the rest of his siblings while his mother lived. Maybe then his Dad wouldn't be fighting depression while his siblings didn't work every day as hard as they could to earn back their family's honor. Maybe his mother could have gotten the help she needed instead of lying in a coffin as worm food.
And maybe your mother would have to live with the fact she murdered his own children instead, his inner voice told him as he rushed down the hall. Maybe it just would have been better if everyone lived that day and not just her? You'd have new siblings. A whole family. Are you going to contemn and entire group of dead puppies and one living orphan whose family rejects him out of misguided spite?
He killed my mother, He thought to himself, trying not to think of his conscious.
How? How does a puppy, just born into the world, kill a mother who took her own life? Was it his fault she got raped? Your mother knew what was right and wrong, she realized it when she stood over her slaughtered children while the last of them looked at her with innocent eyes. How is she no different from other child-killing parents who killed themselves after realizing what they had done? You've arrested them before. Is your mother worthy of being honored when she had disgraced herself by her own actions?
Blue growled. He didn't want to deal with this. He had to focus on the mission. Just focus on the mission and you can stop thinking about that damn pup.
You never stopped thinking about it and you never will… His inner thoughts told him.
Before he could answer again, he arrived at the upper balcony overlooking the outside. He stared out a window and watched in awe as a truck seemed to be moving closer to the entrance despite the heavy machine gunfire. Realizing he needed to give a hand, Blue barked for his handgun and took care of the gunner with a simple bullet to the head. "This is Blue, the machine gunner is down. Front Assault Team you are clear to advance."
"Thanks, Blue! We're moving in now!"
Chase could hear the officers and FBI entering from all sides of the building. The gang members quickly surrendering upon realizing they were complete outnumbered and that their home base was on fire. It didn't take long for Chase to find himself heading towards the roof via door exit. When he did, he noticed a figure rushing across the roof while under the protection of a cloak.
Believing it to be his friend, Chase hurried along, following the cloaked pup. "Zuma! Stop!"
The figure ignored him and just continued to hurry down the roof until he was at the edge. Stopping he, slowly turned around and stared at Chase who was just a few feet away from him. The police pup froze upon seeing Zuma for the first time in months, yet what he saw wasn't the face of the chill and wild playing chocolate lab that would compete against him at Pup Pup Boogie. He saw the blood covered face of a pup whose eyes were like fire and ice. Burning with a rage that wanted to strike at everything around him and yet was as cold as a winter's gaze. Scars and bruises covered Zuma's body whose fur looked like it hadn't been groomed in months. "Z-Zuma?"
"Chase…" Zuma whispered, softly and yet without emotion.
"W-where have you been! What happened to you! We searched for weeks! We even believed you were dead for awhile!" Chase shouted, tears in his eyes. "Why didn't you come home?!"
"… I have no home," Zuma muttered, turning away. "I don't deserve a home. Not what I put you all through."
"P-Put us through? Zuma, what happened wasn't you're fault! We're still together! Stronger! Even Rocky and Marshall are back with us!" Chase shouted, inching closer.
Zuma's eyes lit up upon hearing Rocky's name. "W-Wocky?"
"He's hear, Zuma! We misses you! We all do! We can go home together! Please!" Chase begged, holding out his paw.
Zuma stared at it for a long time before sighing. "I'm sorry, Chase… but I have to end this… please go home and forget about me."
"Zuma… the police want to arrest you… they think you're a criminal and-"
"I am," Zuma muttered, glaring at Chase. "I've killed, Chase. I judged them and I executed them. I'm going to execute them all." He growled; his eyes filled with rage. "Damian. His gang. Anyone associated with them or profits with them. Their blood will be mine to drink as I rip their throats out one by one."
"Z-Zuma?" Chase whispered; eyes widened. "W-What happened to you."
"I learned something, Chase," Zuma sighed, raising his chin. "To defeat a monster… sometimes you must become a monster in return…"
"… Zuma, I don't want to hurt you…" Chase whispered, closing his eyes. "I want us to go back home as a family."
"… I had two families… one I lost and one I hurt…" Zuma replied, slowly tipping backwards. "I'm sorry, Chase, but there is no going back for me." He jumped backwards, flipping in the air as Chase rushed to catch him.
The German Shepard watched as Zuma bounced off an AC and landed in a bush before rushing out of the area. He tried to see where Zuma was going, but the smoke from the fire started to block his vision. Cursing, Chase summoned his zipline and used it to get down.
"… and with the actions of the Costal City Police Force, FBI, and famous rescue group Paw Patrol, the gun running operation has been put to an end. While the battle against crime lord Damian Stone continues an uphill battle, many are seeing this as a win for the authorities and possible the turn around that people have been waiting for."
Damian Stone turned off the TV and laid back on his relaxing chair. He had heard about his gun running operation hitting a serious snag thanks to the authorities, but he didn't know it was going to be that serious. The guns were part of his plan to gather enough money to buy… It.
That's why he had every corner of his criminal activities hitting it double time. The time was closing for the deal and he needed the money soon. With his best storage place for guns now burned and confiscated, he would have to push the other groups to do triple the work. "This Paw Patrol hasn't learned its lesson last time," he said to himself, but as he eyed one of the so called 'Havoc Armors' that the announcer had talked about he realized they weren't going to come after him like a Saturday Morning Cartoon show on Nick Jr.
"No, it seems they're taking me seriously. Maybe I should too," Damian replied as he took out a phone and dialed a number.
Waiting, he soon got someone to pick up the phone. "You've reached the Tombstone Mason Freelance Union; how can we assist you?"
"Yes, I'd like six tombstones prepared for a funeral at Costal City. Five pups named Zuma, Chase, Marshall, Rubble, Skye, and Rocky. Also, a human teenager, Ryder."
"Alright, sir, are you asking for a personal Mason or is this an open contract?"
"Open."
"What is the price quality you are looking for?"
"Five hundred thousand per tombstone, but one million for the one named Zuma."
"And specific designs or methods you'd like done?"
"No, but I wouldn't mind it being flashy."
"Alright, sir. We're letting all our masons know of your contract. We'll notify you when one of them is complete."
Hanging the phone up, Damian could only smirk as he took another shot of his pink lemonade.
Meanwhile, somewhere in LA, a figure watched two men engaging in some pretty raunchy action behind desk of a big building in the financial district. One of them was a big-time businessman who had a beautiful wife and three kids. The other was one of his underlings who had been his new lover for about three months after his old one. Both thought they were alone with nobody to see them save for the figure in the other building across from them, looking through the lens of a high-powered sniper rife.
Apparently, the businessman's wife wasn't too keen on her husband cheating on him, especially with a man. So, for four hundred thousand dollars she hired a mason to prepare both her husband and his lover's tombstones.
"Come on, you two. Put your heads closer together," the sniper whispered in the dark as he aimed his rifle a bit higher from the window. The two were really going at it with their tongues and were proceeding to take of their shirts. "I really don't want to see this…"
Suddenly, his phone started ringing and he took a moment to check the text: "Open Contract Alert! Location: Costal City. Targets: Zuma (Pup-$1,000,000) Chase (Pup-$500,000), Marshall (Pup-$500,000), Rubble (Pup-$500,000), Rocky (Pup-$500,000), Skye (Pup-$500,000), and Ryder (Teenager-$500,000)."
"Hmm, four million in total, huh? Why not?" the sniper said before looking back at his scope. With one shot, he managed to put a bullet three miles away from his window into the skull of both his targets who flopped to the ground in each other's embrace for the last time. "Better get a plane tonight…"
He took his sniper rifle and then disappeared into the darkness.
