AN: Alright everyone, holidays are over, and we're back to writing again. This isn't going to be a long chapter as its just for the aftermath of what happened in our last adventure. I also must confess I haven't seen Paw Patrol in a long time thanks to the holidays and work crunching us as soon as we got back, but I have time now so hopefully I can catch up and finally give my opinion on the new voice actors and episodes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Paw Patrol


"The battle of getting better is never ending." -Antonio Brown


Frisk always wondered if he was in over his head at times. It wasn't easy growing up on the streets as a dog in these parts. The gangs didn't like the idea of dogs joining them so the dogs were either forced to make up their own gangs or go on their own as strays. Frisk had no intention of joining a gang, too short of a life span, so he made a living by sneaking here and there, stealing a bit, and maybe listening in on conversations he wasn't supposed to know. Information was always a price both humans and dogs were willing to pay, regardless of the circumstances. It wasn't a pretty life, but it was a livable one. Most strays ended up dead in five years, and that's if you survived puppyhood and Frisk had no intention of ended up in some park half buried like a mutt.

Now there were times he sometimes thought he was in too deep. Such as the time he was pretty much… encouraged by Big Dog Bo to get close with Rotten Robbie to see where he was getting the good fresh meat he was giving out. Turns out, Rotten had made a deal with some of the butchers to give them protection in exchange for fresh cooked meat to be given to him and his associates, including his pups. Big Dog Bo wanted Frisk to poison the meat and bump off Rotten, so he could take over the business. But Frisk was no murder or hitdog, so he hinted (he would never tell him out right cause snitches are bitches) that Big Dog Bo was planning on something big. Rotten and Bo went to war, and both ended up dead with their operations falling apart.

It was good meat too.

However, Frisk was in over his head now and he wasn't coming back out of it. All because he had to pay his dues to a pup named Zuma. While his new roommate was out playing Ace the Bathound, Frisk decided to check up on Zuma's story and get any info on him. He quickly found out he was THE Zuma of that family Stone and his gang bumped off years ago at their hut on the beach. He personally never went that far downtown, but many spoke of them in fond memory. It also turned out that Zuma was the reason Damian Stone got arrested in the first place, as he survived the attack and led the Police to arrest him as a witness.

Frisk remembered those days with Damian Stone in power. Many were afraid of him and didn't get in his way no matter how much of a psycho he was. When he was gone, nearly everyone in the underworld sighed in relief and went on to try and cash in on his vacant power. Zuma didn't know it, but he stated a series of turf wars that only ended when Stone came back months ago.

The final thing he learned about Zuma was he was a member of the Paw Patrol. Frisk heard of the group over the years, but never paid attention to it. Still, it explained his skills.

Said pup had come home and crashed into the bed Frisk had given him and still hadn't woke up. Frisk spent all night wondering what he had done until the news came on about the warehouse and the terrier couldn't but be impressed. He also wondered if he should get out of town before Stone realized he was harboring the guy who ruined his operation.

Ah, who am I kidding. I'm this far in. Might as well help the kid out, Frisk thought as he chewed on a frozen pizza for breakfast.

He then noticed Zuma getting up from his sleep with a yawn. "Moring kid. Hungry? I got more?"

Zuma nodded before taking a slice and eating it before wincing at the taste. "Ugh."

"Hey, sorry it's not hot, but it's the best I got," Frisk said, shrugging.

"Sorry, I've been so used to fresh killed food I've kind of forgotten what civilized food tastes like," Zuma said, before eating again. After finishing their meal, and licking their paws, Zuma turned to Frisk and asked, "What do you know about a Russian gang in the lower east end of town?"

"There's a lot of them, kid. Lower east side is full of the Russians," Frisk asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rolling his eyes, Zuma asked again, "I meant ones that deal with Damian Stone."

"Oh, that would most likely be the Nikolai Brothers. Not really brothers, just both share the same first name and they've been together ever since they immigrated here from Moscow. You got Big Nikolai who runs the business side. He's quiet, but the guys are a ruthless businessman. Rumor has it he's got a daughter that is a beauty. Then there is Little Nikolai, he handles the muscle. The guy is short, but he's an absolute monster of a fighter. They say he's an expert in Sambo and ARB. Rumor says he's killed twenty guys with his hands alone."

"I'm going to pay them a visit," Zuma said as he made for the exit before Frisk got in front of him.

"Woah! Woah! Woah! Kid, hold a minute! You just got back from one night run! You got to take a breather!" Frisk cried out, putting his paws up.

"So?"

"Soooo, you're gonna have both Stone's people and the Cops looking for you. You need to lay low a bit and let things calm down before you handle the Russians. And trust me, they're going to be more professional then those two-bit gangsters you handled last night," Frisk pointed out. "Look, your gonna need more info. Give me a day or two and I'll getcha better prepared. I know some fellas who owe me. It's better to go in with your basket full then half-empty, right?"

"Why do you care? I'm just a stranger," Zuma asked, tilting his head.

"I don't know. Maybe I feel sorry for ya. Maybe I wanna see Stone and these other shitheads get whats coming to them," Frisk said, shrugging his shoulder. "But regardless of my reasons you know I'm right."

Zuma was quiet for a bit before sighing and nodding. "Alright. I am kinda tired too."

"See? Take a load off. Watch some TV or something. Heck, we can even just talk if you want," Frisk said, sitting down. "Why don't you tell me some of your adventures with that Paw Patrol group of yours? I bet you have good stories?"

Zuma slowly sat down as a small smile came upon his lips. "Well, there was this one time when the Mayor's pet chicken…"


"Well, after the fire was put out, we managed to get around twenty boxes of illegal fires arms, six boxes of explosives, and about two dozen bags of crack. Enough to book these guys twelve times over I'd say," Detective Shaw reported as he read the report to his Chief, Agent Kennedy, and Ryder in the Chief's office. "We didn't lose to many men either, but a lot of the gangsters are dead or are in serious critical condition from the explosion and the attack. We're still not sure how that explosion started, but chances are it was an accident."

"And those that we did capture. Did they say anything?" Agent Kennedy asked.

"So far they all lawyered up, but like I said they'll be put away for good with all this illegal contraband," Shaw said as he took up another cigarette.

"But Rocky did also manage to find more than illegal contraband," Ryder replied as he put down a few pages of information. "We managed to find out more about Stone's operation methods. He's got dealings in everything. Drugs. Position. Money laundering. Guns. You name it."

"However, what really stands out is the money he's sending to Russia," Agent Kennedy pointed out as he focused on one specific page. "He's not just sending small amounts too. Some of the payments are in the million-dollar range. Nobody sends money like that unless they are trying to buy something big."

"Like what? A battleship?" The Chief asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Could be more men. Guns. Maybe even military grade equipment. Who knows," Agent Kennedy said, sighing. "We tried finding out where the accounts are specifically and who they are going to, but all we're getting is cover up names and companies. We can ask the Russian Authorities for help, but that takes time and our relationship with them isn't as friendly as it is with other nations."

Sighing, the Chief took out a small bottle of whiskey and chugged it. "Any good news to help us?"

"Well, if Damian is dealing with the Russians, we should check out the lower east side. I've got some contacts who can point us in the right direction," Detective Shaw replied, puffing out a cloud. "In the meantime, we should talk about the elephant in the room." He then turned to Agent Kennedy and Ryder. "Specifically, both your dogs."

Ryder winced while Agent Kennedy just stood there with no expression. "No, I'm not their owners. But it's clear that both Chase and Blue have some issues with each other. It's not my business, but they better get it cleared up before it gets in the way of work."

"Agent Blue is capable of performing his job without letting his emotions get the best of him," Agent Kennedy replied.

"So is Chase," Ryder defended.

"Sure, but I've seen this kind of thing before on the force. Two cops who can't get along off the job will always find a problem on the job while doing it. It's gotta be taken care of now. We were lucky that they worked together this time, but I'm not going to always bet on that," Detective Shaw pointe out. "You know them better then me so you better come up with a solution."


When the meeting ended, Agent Kennedy and Ryder walked out of the officer and down the hall. Neither of them speaking to the other until they turned around the corner and Agent Kennedy stopped to get a soda. "He's right," Agent Kennedy said, handing Ryder a soda pop. "We need to get Agent Blue and Chase to make peace."

"Chase would more then welcome it. It's Blue I'm more worried about, no offence," Ryder said, taking the soda and opening it.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you," Agent Kennedy replied, opening his own. "He still blames Chase for what happened to his mother and won't accept that she's at fault. We need to do something to get rid of that anger…"

"Any ideas?" Ryder asked, sipping his. "I was thinking of getting them to work more together."

"That would work, but sometimes the best way to get rid of anger is to let it all out," Agent Kennedy replied as he looked at the direction of the gym. "How good is Chase in CQC?"

"Pretty good, why?"

"Well, let's hope he's good enough that Blue won't kill him in the ring."