AN: So I hope that you all enjoyed our presentation of horrible death theater. Okay, in all seriousness aside I hope people weren't too disturbed by that last chapter. I did warn you people about it. Anyway, we're about to continue with the story. A lot of Rocky and Zuma friendship moments with this chapter. I'm actually surprised people wanted it to be a friendship story rather than a romance, but eh, what can you do.

Disclaimer: I don't own Paw Patrol.

After Ryder had finished describing the scene, none of the pups had the means to speak upon learning of the horrible event their water pup friend had gone through. Rubble was hiding his eyes with his paws, whimpering and crying as if Stone was a real monster about to jump out. Chase was turning green again, but he was to busy comforting a weeping Skye who was drying her eyes on his chest. Marshall was also crying, and had the biggest frown on his face anyone had ever seen.

The only one who wasn't scared or crying was Rocky, who sat there in stunned silence. His eyes were wide open and he was trembling. In his mind, all he could think about was Zuma, watching his family butchered in front of his eyes. Never in a million years would he have thought that the same energetic, cool, and fearless pup he called his best friend would have gone through an event that would have broken most people. Zuma… he's stronger than any of us ever thought…

"How… how could somebody… be so… evil, Ryder?" asked Marshall, who seemed to have lost a bit of that happy-go-lucky spark he always had in his eyes.

"Some people are just horrible, Marshall," whispered Ryder, shaking his head. "I'm sorry I had to tell you all this pups, but Stone escaped prison and is I believe he's after Zuma."

All the pups gasped upon hearing this. Rocky decided he had enough waiting and bolted for the door. "Rocky! Wait!" shouted Ryder, but the fleeing pup ignored him.

Rocky was sure that there was more to the story that he needed to hear, but none of that mattered. Zuma was all alone in the hospital, and if Stone was after his best friend then he needed to be there ASAP. Rushing to his pup house, he barked twice before shouting, "Vehicle mode!"

His pup house transformed into his recycling truck and he hopped in. Turning the ignition on, Rocky stepped on the gas and drove down the driveway towards the bridge without stopping.

Rocky was pretty sure he had broken the speed limit while trying to get to the hospital, but he figured he could chalk it up to a Paw Patrol emergency. When he arrived, he rushed through the halls without stopping to get to his best friend's room. When he entered it, he saw a man he never recognized before and growled. "Who are you?!"

He normally wouldn't be this threatening, but considering that this Damian Stone was loose, and that he had a gang with him, Rocky wasn't taking any chances. The man took out something from inside his trench coat and opened it, revealing it to be a badge. "I'm Detective Shaw from the Costal City Police Department. So quit showing me those teeth and relax."

"O-oh, s-sorry," apologized Rocky as he felt his cheeks turn red from embarrassment. Remembering why he came, Rocky quickly turned to Zuma's bed and rushed over to check up on the pup. He was still sleeping soundly, like he was in a dreamless sleep. Rocky whimpered and nuzzled his cheek with a few tears dripping down his cheek. "Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you. Protected you. You… darn it, Zuma…"

"I take it you're one of his teammates from Paw Patrol?" asked the detective as he leaned on the wall, crossing his arms.

"Yeah. I'm Rocky, the Recycling Pup," said Rocky, nodding his head.

"Why would a rescue team need a recycling member?" muttered Detective Shaw to himself while shaking his head. "Anyway, the pup's still asleep. According to the nurses, he had a panic attack when he learned Stone was lose. Can't blame the kid, not after what he's been through."

"Who is this guy? I mean, Ryder told us what happened, but what kind of person… does something like that?" asked Rocky, still trying to wrap it all around his head. He knew there were bad people, and pups, in the world. His old owner had proven that when he tried to kill him in a drunken rage, but he never knew anyone who took such pleasure in killing.

"Somebody who is a goddamn psychopath," said Detective Shaw, who took out a pack of cigarettes before curing and putting them away. "Crap, can't smoke in a hospital. Anyway, I've been on trying to nail Stone for about four years before we finally got him. Kid started as a killer when he was twelve. Sliced his dad's throat for whatever reason. Joined a gang soon after and become a top member at the age of fifteen. By eighteen, that bastard killed all the leaders of the gang and made himself the new top dog. He's been behind multiple murders, disappearance, drugs, assaults, racketeering, and other crimes. Problem is we could never get the bastard until Zuma helped us out."

"How did he do that?" asked Rocky.

Shaw ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, it was like this…"

Detective Shaw had seen horrible murders before. He had seen a seventeen year old girl slice her father's head off because he was sleeping with her best friend. There was one time when a guy was found creeping in a graveyard and digging out corpses because he wanted to collected their skulls for his truck. And he once was at the scene of a school shooting at a high school when a bullied kid lost it, taking two students and a teacher with him before blowing himself up. Shaw had seen a lot of terrible things.

But nothing was worse than seeing the handy work of Damien Stone. Shaw and his department had been on the man for years, ever since he took over his old boss's gang. There wasn't a crime that he wasn't involved with that wasn't done in some horrible fashion, and there were enough bodies in his wake to fill a small graveyard. And now there were another three victims.

Stepping into the blood covered hut, Shaw looked at the three body bags being carried out while shaking his head at the sight. "I fucking hate that bastard."

"We don't know if it was him, sir," said one of the CSI's who walked up to him.

"Did either of them have a stab in the throat with a little twist?" asked Shaw without looking at the silent CSI. When there was no answer, Shaw shook his head. "I thought so. What's the story behind this?"

"The witnesses who were here last afternoon remembered seeing a man we know is associated with Damian Stone," the CSI guy pointed to a crowd of horrified people behind the police tape. "He tried to get them to pay for protection money. Needless to say the owner, Greg, refused. Last night at about 10AM, there were shots heard from across the beach along with the sound of ATV's. Officers arrived twenty minutes earlier and found Greg, his wife Marsha, and dog Shelly all dead."

"Do we have any prints?" asked Shaw, but he already knew the answer to that.

"This is a well-known snack shack sir," replied the CSI, shaking his head. "There are literally hundreds of prints of all kinds. Even if Damien didn't wear gloves, it would take weeks to months to find his print."

"Anybody see or heard something?" asked Shaw, pinching the edge of his nose while eying the bullet holes.

"Shots were heard, but by the time they called the police the shooters were long gone. Nobody really saw anything either since the beach as closed at the time of all the killing."

"Do you have anything that can be of useful to me? Or shall we be putting these three names on the list of Damian Stone's bloody victim count, and notify the loved ones that we can't get justice for them either!" shouted Shaw, getting everybody's attention. Furious, he slammed his fist against one of the tables so hard it cracked. "Goddamn it all people! Four years we've been trying to build a case against this guy, and every time he does any of these horrible acts we don't have enough! Nobody is this good for this long! Now somebody give me some good news or else!"

"Well, there is one thing, sir. You see we-"

"Hey! You can't go through there!" shouted an officer, catching everyone's attention.

Shaw raised an eyebrow as a kid who had to be no older than ten or eleven rush into the crime scene with a pale face and worried expression. "Are they okay?! Please, tell me what I heard is not true!"

"Kid, I don't know who you are, but I need you to leave the premise. This is a crime scene and-" Shaw was then silent when the boy pulled out a letter with the mayor's seal on it. Taking it, Detective Shaw read the whole thing with disbelief until he turned to the kid who was resisting the other officers from taking him out. "Wait! Let the kid go. He's authorized to be here."

"What?! Sir, you can't be serious. He's a kid!" shouted one of the officers.

"That kid happens to have the mayor's approval on this letter to be involved in any emergency situations, including police cases," grumbled the detective as the officers let go. "Though I don't know how the hell he has something like this."

"My team and I save him and his family in a burning building a few months ago while was vacationing near my town," said Ryder, rubbing the back of his head before holding out his hand. "I'm Ryder. Head of Paw Patrol in Adventure Bay."

"That dog rescue team?" asked Detective Shaw, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't your police pup catch the Velvet Scarfed Thief?"

"Caught and arrested, sir," said Ryder with a smile. "Chase loves to tell the tale whenever he can."

For the first time since he got here, Detective Shaw cracked a smile before shaking the hand of Ryder. "Well, I don't know how much help you can be, but the mayor pays my paycheck so there we go."

Ryder nodded before looking serious at the crime scene. He started turning a little green, but still held firm. This made Shaw raise his eyebrow. Most kids his age would have soiled themselves yet Ryder was as cool as a professional. Wait, didn't they say there was something that happened to his kid? Yeah, something about his parents…

"Did… did they all die?" asked Ryder, whimpering as tears gathered in his eyes.

"Afraid so," whispered Shaw, shaking his head. "A local gang lord by the name of Damian Stone is the main suspect. This is his kind of work."

"Does he do racketeering? There was a guy here yesterday who wanted Greg to pay for protection but he refused. He threatened them and… I guess they went through with it," whispered Ryder, a tear flowing down his face.

"You're taking this rather well," commented Detective Shaw.

"I… I've seen similar things before… when I was young," muttered Ryder, shaking his head.

"How did you know the owners?"

"I ate here and met their dog, Zuma. I helped rescue his sister yesterday, and we became friends," whispered Ryder.

"Zuma? Who is Zuma?" asked Detective Shaw raising an eyebrow.

"That's what I was going to tell you, sir," said the CSI as he shook his head. "We have a surviving witness from the attack. The owner's other dog, Zuma. He's alive."

"Zuma's alive?!" shouted Ryder

"We have a survivor?!" shouted Shaw who grabbed the CSI. "Why the balls didn't you tell me this sooner?!"

"I was going too, but-"

"Never mind that, where is this pup?! He could be what we're looking for!"

"He was taken to Costal City General Hospital. When the medics arrived he was screaming and traumatized by what he saw, so they had to sedate him and take him away."

"Sir! We need to get to Zuma! I need to see if he's okay!" shouted Ryder.

"Come on, kid. We'll take my car. If this pup did see everything then this might be the break my department's been waiting for!" shouted Shaw as the two rushed out of the crime zone.

The trip to the hospital didn't take long as Ryder and Detective Shaw rushed in and demanded the room number for Zuma. After getting it, they headed over and cleared their credentials with the officer on guard. A bandaged Zuma was staring at the blank wall with what some veterans called the thousand yard stare. Shaw felt his heart cringe at the idea that such a young pup had to see something so horrible at his age.

"Z-Zuma?" asked Ryder as he carefully walked over to the chocolate labrador. "It's me, Ryder."

Zuma slowly turned his head and faced his friend. "W-Wyder?"

"Yeah, it's me, Zuma," whispered Ryder, taking him into his embrace. "It's me…"

The pup began to tear up as he dived into Ryder's chest and begain to sob. "They… they killed them all… Mawsha, Gweg, Shelly… I… I couldn't help them… they died and… and…"

"It's not you're fault, Zuma," whispered Ryder.

"Yes, it is!" shouted Zuma, pushing himself of Ryder and looking at him with his sorrowful teary eyes. "I could have done something! I should have done something! Or at least died with them!"

"Kid, don't think like that," said Shaw, walking over and looking at the pup with sympathy. "You were up against a maniac who would have killed you six ways to Sunday. There was nothing you could have done."

"W-who awe you?" asked Zuma, wiping his eyes.

"I'm Detective Shaw. I've been trying to nail Damien Stone for a long time now," he said, showing his badge. "Listen, Zuma. This is important. Can you describe the person who lead the attack on your family."

"Detective, maybe he needs to rest. He's been through a lot," said Ryder.

"I need all the information I can get while the memory is still fresh in his head. Anything he could remember can help us get Stone off the streets for good," said Shaw, shaking his head.

"He… he was blond… with some green dye around his bangs. He had these golden teeth and earrings, but the worst was his eyes…" Zuma shivered. "His eyes were full of nothing but… evil. Like he took a pleasure when he… he…" Zuma held his stomach as he began to turn green.

"Sounds like him," whispered Shaw as he took out a notepad and paper. "Zuma, can you tell me, as much as you can what happened? I know it's going to be painful, but time is of the essence."

"Detective Shaw…" warned Ryder.

"No, Wyder…" whispered Zuma, touching his hand. The sadness in Zuma's eyes was now replaced with a new emotion, rage. "I'll… I'll go thwough it all… just pwomise me one thing…" Zuma growled as he yelled as loud as he could, "Awest that son of a bitch!"