Requested by The Atlas Guardian. OCs Robyn and Lupe are owned by The Atlas Guardian
Part 1
Adventure City has fallen.
What was once a bustling city filled with joy and life had been reduced to utter ruins. Buildings stood empty and dusty, puddles of broken glass bordering below from the shattered windows. There was no one left to inhabit them, hundreds of citizens had already fallen to Aleksei and his Ultranationalist Party. Old cars littered the abandoned streets, newspapers and discarded clothing gently dancing in the wind.
It was a warm spring day where merely stepping outside brought a smile of joy to someone. Humans got together in public parks while their dogs ran crazy, finally expelling the contained energy within them. No one knew in mere hours, the world would be shaken, and thousands would die. Aleksei's Ultranationalists emerged from the shadows, numerous and armed, and took control of Adventure Bay starting at its heart: The City. Police forces were wiped out in hours, politicians fled, and the remaining citizens were left at the mercy of the attackers.
There was only one hope, one remaining flicker of light that walked so peace could run. A military strike team led by a timber wolf named Lupe, was all the city had left to stop Aleksei. Lupe was a trained agent, sent to infiltrate City Hall where Aleksei had set up a base. As the dogs set out, the Paw Patrol surveyed their progress back at home, keeping their ears to the radios and eyes to the screens. They didn't ask to have their lives so drastically changed, to jump from basic rescues and assistance to full-scale warfare, but they aimed to serve no matter the cause.
They were holed up in an underground floor of The Lookout, an old basement Ryder had refurbished into a base of operations when Aleksei hit the scene. Chase, Zuma, and Rocky were the leading "soldiers" of Task Force PAW. They were trained enough to hold weapons but were far from what a general would call a good soldier. Antsy around warfare, Marshall chose not to follow the route of a gunman, instead embracing his EMT services and becoming a medic. While some initially gave the Dalmation flack for choosing a non-fighting role, they would soon realize just how vital it was to have a good medic. Rubble was the team's gunsmith, as the Bulldog would lurk in the darkest corners of the basement with piles of rifles and equipment. He would spend hours every day, cleaning each rifle and checking its sights, tuning every screw and bolt meticulously. He wasn't seen often, as the other dogs would have to travel to him should they need a weapon tinkered with or fixed, but Rubble was thankfully always happy to help, a faint piece of his old self still glowing. Ever the avian, Skye kept watching high in the skies of Adventure Bay, monitoring their active territories around the clock for any anomalies. Skye was almost never physically seen, only heard, and Chase found himself very quickly missing her hugs.
Shrouded in darkness, Chase sat in the old leather chair, its fabric ripped in several places as it was ready to be taken to the dumpster. The Shepherd kept his eyes glued to the main screen that was mounted across the wall, waiting for any word or message from Lupe's team.
In his concentration, he didn't hear Rocky come into the room, concerned for his friend's sanity.
"You've been sitting there for hours," the mix said. The mix already had a disheveled appearance to begin with, but when war struck his fur took a ragged effect. He was just a little scruffier than usual, but it was odd he never made any attempt to fix his coat.
"They say war is loud," Chase said absently, not taking his eyes off the blank screen, "that the sounds of explosions and screaming never leave your ears." He slowly turned his head, looking at Rocky with a blank expression, "but it isn't always. War can be quiet, nothing but silence, and in my opinion, that's probably the worst."
"I'm sure Lupe is fine," Rocky tried to connect to his lifelong friend, "they've never failed before."
"All the more poetic to start now."
The mix sighed, a little exasperated. "Have some confidence, Chase. Try not to think about it."
They say ignorance is bliss, but Chase hated being left out of the loop. As much as he wanted to take his mind off things, he simply couldn't. There was too much at stake, and he wasn't too sure Rocky understood that. Adventure City was practically dead now, defiled and beaten by the Ultranationalists, how long until Adventure Bay was hit? The question haunted him, restricting hours of sleep from him, and filling him with dread to never stop looking over his shoulder. This was no way for a puppy to live, but no one ever had a choice.
-.-.-.-.-
"Pups to The Lookout." Ryder's voice came through their collars a few hours later, his voice noticeably missing his cheery tone.
Zuma picked his head up from his food bowl, the kibble lost its flavor, "Ryder needs us."
Standing up in unison, Rocky absently kicked a pebble, "I seem to remember being excited whenever this happened." He shook his grey head, meeting Zuma's gaze, "this isn't going to be happy news."
"Well," Zuma searched for something to say, "whatever happens, wherever we get sent out to," he sighed, turning away from the mix, "I've always… enjoyed being your friend. I'm happy that we got to grow up together."
The Lab's words were almost stuttered by sniffles. Rocky heard it all too well, and in his shame, he refused to meet Zuma's gaze. The thought of not coming back from the next mission was a haunting revelation.
The elevator ride to the top of The Lookout was a quiet one, the gathered dogs unable to look one another in the eye. They were all in perfect formation with the exception of Skye, as she was still stationed miles away in the air. To be quieter than someone who is already completely silent seems absurd, yet it was a perfect description of Chase. The German Shepherd was noticeably darkened, and his face carried an expression each pup viewed differently. Zuma kept his faith, still holding onto the belief that Chase had a plan. Marshall shuffled his paws uncomfortably, seeing Chase's mood as silent anger, rage even, and the Dalmation avoided eye contact. However, with each sneaking glance, Rocky saw helpless sorrow and great sadness infecting Chase. It was one thing to see your hometown destroyed, it was a whole other to believe its fall was your fault. Rubble didn't look at anyone, just kept his eyes glued to the floor. The Bulldog had a faint idea of what was coming.
When the elevator reached halfway, their uniforms were dispensed in, and each dog quickly made haste to dress. It was a routine they followed hundreds of times, possibly thousands, but now it had lost the excitement. Long ago they were buzzing with anticipation and ready to help in whatever was needed, their determination reflected in their color-coded uniforms, personalized to each dog. Now war has struck, and their unforms have lost their color. Each one is now stained in black camo, with featureless pup-packs and utility belts. They felt demoralized at the loss of their individualism, especially Marshall.
The doors opened into the briefing room, revealing Ryder staring into the giant screen. His back was turned to the dogs, his heart broken with the tragic news he had just received hours ago.
Absently walking up, Chase sat back and spoke with a dejected voice, "ready for action, Ryder sir."
The boy sighed to himself, "thanks for hurrying, pups, we have a… situation." He said, turning to face the dogs he spent so many years growing up with, "Lupe's team has been compromised."
Chase's heart sank.
"What…" Marshall's gentle voice came up, "what does that mean?"
"It means-" Ryder started to say.
Chase interrupted him, "it means they're dead, Marshall." He growled, "Aleksei won…"
"Hey, we don't know that," the boy turned at the Shepherd, cross for being cut off.
"Don't know?" The police officer stood up, challenging his leader, "what else could it possibly mean, it means they're dead!"
"They aren't dead, Chase!" Ryder snapped at the puppy, "at least…" he trailed off, "at least not all of them. We have a voice recording."
"From Lupe?" Rocky spoke up.
Ryder shook his head, "no, this is someone else. I think it's someone from his team, does anyone speak Polish?"
The dogs either shook their heads or looked at the floor helplessly. Rocky knew Spanish, and Chase did too but not fluently. None of them had ever encountered the Polish language before and were ill-equipped to speak it.
"No sir," Zuma lowered his head, emitting a low whine.
Turning back to the screen, Ryder pulled out a handheld device. Tapping away on the screen, he pulled up the sound file that had been sent to him in the dead of night. Hovering his finger over the "play" button, he turned back to the puppies, "well, take a listen." He said, his voice carrying resignation. The dogs tuned their ears, and Ryder played the file.
"Czy ktoś mnie słyszy? To jest Robyn." Were the garbled, static-filtered words that emitted from the recording. The voice wasn't Lupe, it was panicked and feminine, instantly drawing Chase's attention. Whoever she was, the voice continued with quickened breaths, "Wszyscy nie żyją, źli ludzie mnie szukają." She stopped for a second, the only audible sound being her breathing. The faint noises of the outdoors clouded her words, as each paw step produced a crunch of leaves and twigs. "Nie mam dokąd pójść, nie mam broni. Widzę znak drogowy z napisem „Barkingburg".
Rocky pricked his ears in alarm, "Barkingburg, I heard Barkingburg!" he declared. "Is that where they are?"
Leaning forward, Chase studied the words he was hearing, now feeling a call to action coming on the horizon.
"Straciliśmy wszystko. Spróbuję przetrwać, dopóki nie zostanę odnaleziony."
The recording shut off with an audible click, and the message was over.
"I didn't understand a whole lot of that," Zuma frowned, "but I clearly heard Barkingburg."
"Did we ever get a status on that kingdom?" Rubble walked forward a little.
The Paw Patrol hadn't heard even the faintest whisper from Barkingburg for months. They had figured initially that life goes on, and the people and dogs residing within probably had their own lives to attend to. When Aleksei's Ultranationalists hit the scene, most of the attention was turned to protecting Adventure Bay and its neighboring city, and everyone assumed Barkingburg could handle itself or Aleksei entirely left it alone.
Rocky was still unsure over the matter, "isn't that place really far away? If this is someone from Lupe's team, how in the world did they get all the way out there?" He shook his head, looking at his team for opinions, "it doesn't make a whole lot of sense."
"Well if I had Ultranationlists on my tail," Rubble shrugged, "I'd definitely hit a boat or a plane to get away, maybe that's how she ended up there."
Ryder crossed his arms, "well we do know one thing. Lupe was supposed to return hours ago, I don't like to admit it, but he may have failed.."
"And the only survivor is contacting us for help," Chase said, putting it together.
"Or it's a trick to lure into a trap," Rocky pointed.
To Chase's dismay, Ryder seemed to be actually considering Rocky's words. It was rational to believe that the enemy had possibly gotten ahold of the radio and was attempting to fool them, but there was always another possibility. If there really was someone in danger, Chase couldn't abandon them, especially not after learning she may be the only remaining survivor of Lupe's team. Putting his hand to his chin, Ryder played back the recording, this time listening intently to every word being said. The dogs sat patiently while he worked, unsure what it was Ryder was trying to understand. He didn't speak Polish, so what was Ryder looking for?
"Alright," the boy said, putting his handheld away, "we're going to get her."
-.-.-.-.-
Riding in a helicopter was supposed to be fun. It was meant to be a joyous experience, getting to hitch a ride in the sky and soar above the land. It was a dream of many to grow wings and fly, a dream none could truly reach. Even now as Chase stared out the window of the vehicle, there was something about the AR-15 rifle sitting two feet away that drained the joy from the ride.
Usually, it would be Skye flying them, but still she was gone on overwatch duty. Today their pilot was another dog, a Golden Retriever also trained in piloting military vehicles. No one knew the dog's name, he wasn't family like Skye was, nor were any of the dogs called in to assist them either. The new dogs had emerged from a civilian-military program, usually stray dogs without a home, signing up to don a uniform and gun to stand against Aleksei. The sad truth is most of them were untrained or lacked in physicality to a severe degree, and many died on the frontline of battle. Just days ago, a massacre in City Hall occurred when a large group of civilian soldiers attempted to rise against the Ultranationalists. The streets ran a crimson red that night, and the air stank of agony and waste. Some rare few were found to have a genuine ability that could be taken advantage of, such as the exact pilot currently flying the Paw Patrol to Barkingburg.
Rocky, Chase, and Zuma sat quietly in the helicopter interior, the sound of the rotor engine plugging their ears. Zuma had brought a book along, a small, worn piece of literature with an illegible cover. No one could tell if he was reading a basic novel or something religious like a Bible. Zuma simply had a book, and he read it quietly while keeping it to himself. Chase stared idly into the visor of his helmet. Gone was his fashionable police hat, and in its place was a metal helmet with military goggles. He had always seen the soldier costumes in Halloween stores and daydreamed about wearing one. Bristling his fur a little, he silently cursed himself for being so naive.
"You okay?" Came a voice that made Chase pick his head up. Flicking his eyes over, he caught sight of Rocky looking at him.
The Shepherd put his helmet aside, dreading having to touch his rifle, "Not really. I guess I assumed that whole thing with Rex's plane was the end of it." He remembered about a week ago when Aleksei had attacked a plane carrying political figures, seeking to assassinate Rex. "Aleksei would be arrested and everything would go back to normal, and our lives wouldn't… change."
Sighing in understanding, Rocky shrugged, "well… we're still the Paw Patrol, we still aim to help people."
"Help who?" Chase absently looked out the window, "all those dead bodies hanging in the streets?"
"The dog who contacted us," the mix insisted, "once we get her, we'll have some answers." He let a small smile slip, hoping Chase would copy it. When the Shepherd failed to show a glimmer of optimism, Rocky tried turning to Zuma, but the Lab wasn't interested in talking.
They rode in silence for an hour, until they felt the helicopter slowing down and gently descending from the sky. They had reached their destination, or at least a little ways from it. As a precaution, they didn't land directly in the kingdom, instead touching down just half a mile out of the border. Chase grabbed his helmet and pulled it on, Rocky made sure his pup pack was working properly, and Zuma wordlessly set his book aside.
"Ammunition, ruff," Chase commanded his pup pack, and an empty mechanical arm extended out, seemingly asking for its weapon. The Shepherd lowered himself a little, guiding the claws of the arm to the handle of the AR-15. Like a baby responding to touch, the "fingers" of the claw closed around the handle, one of the fingers dangerously caressing the gun's trigger. Now fully armed, Chase clicked the safety off his gun, as did the others. The helicopter started its engines as they stepped off into the cold grass of the night, and the vehicle took off into the sky.
They were alone.
"Rubble, you finished analyzing the recording?" Rocky asked into his radio, turning his ears toward a chirping cricket.
In order to pinpoint the initial location of the message, Rubble took the file to put it through some technological processes the others didn't understand, but the Bulldog swore it would come through in the end.
Their gunsmith came through on the radio, "I'm not finished completely deciphering this, but it looks like the message came from somewhere of high elevation."
Zuma tilted his head, "what?"
"I mean somewhere high up."
Overhearing their conversation, Chase got low to the grass and moved up a small hill, seeking to get a better view of what was once Barkingburg. The Princess's castle still stood proudly, although a sorrowful shadow had been cast over it. Squinting his eyes, Chase could spot several figures moving along the high walls and multiple small details on the castle that certainly weren't there before. He could only see the castle exterior from his position, but clear as day he could spot the multiple storage crates that had been hauled outside, illuminated in the night by standing outdoor lamps.
A growl escaped his muzzle, "the Ultranationalists… looks like they've had this place for weeks." A vicious fire burned within him, knowing their contact was trapped within the castle. Rubble said the message came from high up, and there were no mountains or towers for miles, only the castle.
"We'll have to be quiet about this," Rocky put a paw to his chin, "I think I have an idea."
"Yeah, so do I," Chase came to his side, brandishing his rifle, "you have any extra grenades on you?"
The mix turned to him, flattening his ears, "wha- no, Chase, we need to do this silently. There's a whole camp of them down there, and only three of us."
"Never stopped us before,"
Unamused, Rocky stared at his partner, "the last time we tried going loud, Zuma almost died."
"Uh hey excuse me," Zuma butted into the conversation, "I walked off that bullet wound perfectly fine."
"You bled all over me," the Shepherd chuckled, remembering the catastrophic mission.
Fed up with the talking, Rocky moved in between them, "enough!" He held out both paws, pushing each dog back, "for the sake of our hostage, we're sneaking in there and getting her out. No gunfire unless absolutely necessary, okay?"
Zuma merely shrugged, indifferent to the plan, "fine with me, dude."
The police dog could be heard grumbling.
Ignoring him, Rocky crept up the hill Chase had scaled a minute ago, taking his own look at the castle. "Zuma, you'll be on overwatch. Chase and I will scale the main tower of the castle and rescue our contact."
"How are you so sure she's in there?" The Shepherd readied himself nonetheless, still slightly annoyed they weren't going to dramatically bust in and raise chaos.
"There's nowhere else she'd be," Rocky said, sure of himself, "that, or she's dead."
"Then let's hurry," the Shepherd primed his rifle, clicking off the safety and checking the magazine. It was a gesture Chase did quite often, fidgeting with his gun even if there was no reason to. Ryder predicted it was some kind of stress relief, the need to fiddle with someone to ease one's anxieties.
The easy part was getting to the castle. The darkness of the night generously covered their advance, rendering them nearly invisible in their black gear. Chase and Rocky chose to set out, while Zuma stayed behind to provide overwatch support with a sniper scope. The Lab was instructed not to fire unless things went completely haywire. Ultranationalists were on the prowl, and Chase peered up from the grass to see two dogs lurking along the dirt path. The terrorists were always dressed in street clothes with some kind of mask or fabric to cover their faces. Aside from a logo woven into their shoulder patches and assault rifles, they lacked any official military wear or equipment, with the exception of an assault rifle each. It was a wonder how Adventure City was taken over by thugs rising up from the gutters. Even then, Aleksei had power and a silver tongue, likely having swayed them under the promise of prosperity.
For what the thugs made up for in number, they lacked intelligence and tactical strength. This was the one core advantage Lupe's team and the Paw Patrol had over the enemy. It was this lack of tactical know-how that placed two guards right in Chase and Rocky's path. The two dogs slunk low in the grass, completely invisible to the terrorists that were about to walk right past them. From the cover of the grass, Chase watched the enemies closely, trying to read their movements. They were talking, oblivious to any surrounding threats, to take them out now would be rather easy.
"They're getting close," he whispered to Rocky, keeping his belly as flat to the ground as possible. "Should we take them out or let them pass?"
Carefully, Rocky lifted his head up from the tall grass, peeking at the two chatting guards. To stick out even a few inches would render them spotted, even with the shrouding night they had to be vigilant.
"Your call," the mix instantly retracted back down, "you're the one in front."
Biting his tongue, Chase's heartbeat quickened as he felt the crunching footsteps draw near. They were only a couple of feet away, he didn't dare look up to see where exactly they were. He didn't know if he was hesitating out of anxiety, but he remained locked in position as the footsteps drew even closer. Rocky held his breath, thankful he had somewhat dark fur. Both dogs sat patiently as the guards slowly crossed past them, one of which almost stepped on Rocky's tail. They didn't start moving again until they were sure the guards were out of earshot, but even then Chase was anxious.
Rocky continued putting his paws forward, creeping up on the exterior wall of the dark castle, "we should've killed them and left them in the grass."
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be quiet," Chase hissed, approaching the castle wall. Propping a paw up, he looked up at the height of the wall, knowing it was impossible to climb. Squinting his eyes, his mind turned in all directions, eventually recalling some of his old gear.
He turned his gaze back to Rocky, "stay here."
"What are you doing?"
"What I'm good at," Chase grumbled, then turned his eyes back to the wall. "Grappling hook, ruff."
Nothing.
Creeping in a little, Rocky spoke in a hushed tone, "you need to say it louder."
"I can't be loud!"
"Well then think of something else!" The mix argued, baring his teeth.
Fearing to expose his position, Chase looked around fearfully, praying there wasn't anyone other than Rocky who would hear him. To do this was incredibly dangerous, but a simple bark was all that stood in the way of rescuing their contact.
"Damn it," the Shepherd shook his head, "grappling hook…" he opened his mouth, panting a little, "ruff!"
His pup-pack clicked to life, extending out a grappling hook arm and aimed for the top of the wall. Rocky almost immediately got low and kept an eye out for anyone who could've heard. With no turning back now, Chase shot the hook high above the wall, hearing it catch on something and the line tightening.
"I hook you know what you're doing," Rocky said, then lifted himself into a crouching position, holding his gun firmly, "nonetheless, I'll be here."
"I shouldn't be long," Chase swung his own gun over his shoulders, now brandishing a handgun for easier maneuverability. He didn't have a silencer, but handguns were at least somewhat quieter than a fully automatic rifle. "Stay safe," were his last words to Rocky when his pup pack activated, pulling Chase up the wall. Keeping his paws on the concrete, the Shepherd crept up the wall like a spider, trying to be as quiet as possible in the dark night.
Taking a moment to peek over the railing, Chase saw there were no guards and vaulted himself over the edge, now standing on the top of the thick walls. Within the castle grounds, he near instantly spotted two guards roaming the ground level, aimlessly kicking flowers in the courtyard. He'd have to time this just perfectly, the main tower looming over the entire structure. Aiming his grappling hook for the very top of the tower, he glanced down at the oblivious enemy for an opening. Even though they weren't directly looking, he still feared screwing up at any measure possible.
Holding his breath, he shot the hook, sending it dozens of meters into the air as it traveled up the giant structure. The hook traveled over the tower's roof, intertwining with a chimney and locking itself in. Seizing his moment, Chase jumped off the wall and let himself be lifted high into the air. Zuma was watching the whole ordeal from miles away, keeping an eye on Chase through his sniper scope.
The wind was harsh and cold the higher into the sky Chase traveled, "don't look down, don't look down," he hastily muttered to himself, he was at least forty feet in the air, and a simple mistake could send him falling to his death. Keeping his eyes glued up, he was nearing the top of the tower. A small window was within reach, and he pulled his paw up and grabbed onto the windowsill. Breathing heavily, he flattened his ears and slowly pulled himself up, peering into the tower.
The tower's interior was small and noticeably plain, about the same size as the living room of an unfurnished apartment. It was likely used for something significant ages ago, but the Ultranationalists had probably pillaged everything out of the castle to sell off. The floor was composed of dusty, old hardwood that held more cobwebs than actual furniture. The only object in the room was a wooden table standing lonely before the opposite window. Atop it was nothing but old papers, broken quills, and dried-out inkwell.
Grunting, Chase pulled himself into the room, catching his breath and grateful he was standing on solid ground again. "Hello?" He asked idly, taking a few steps in. Squinting his eyes at the darkness, he kept his firearm level the further he walked in. Leaning down to sniff the floor, he came to a small hatch in the floor, likely the passageway used for getting up into the room. Sniffing the broken lock, Chase came to a halt with his nose picked up a new trail.
The scent of a dog.
Chase picked his head up in alarm, only to hear the click of a gun behind him.
"Nie ruszaj się." Hissed a voice behind him.
The Shepherd froze on the spot, not moving as it was clearly obvious the dog had a handgun on him. The voice struck him as odd, was it Russian? German? French even?
"Who's there?" He asked into the darkness, keeping his eyes ahead.
The dog behind him gritted her teeth, "rusz się, a cię zabiję," still keeping the gun on him, she carefully began to circle the Shepherd, not taking any risks.
"Look I don't-" Chase said, exasperated, "... I don't speak… whatever that is. I don't know your language."
"Nie mówisz po polsku?"
"No… yes?" He was getting fed up with the language barrier, "do you speak any English at all?" He dared himself to sneak a peek behind him, to take a glance at his attacker. Taking the chance, Chase flicked his eye to the side and turned his head just barely to give himself a view.
The dog behind him was another German Shepherd, but purely white in fur color. Her coat was ruffled and stained with dirt, likely from a mission gone awry that resulted in her needing to fly. She was holding the gun using a pup pack, a piece of equipment that was obviously not hers. The scratches and welded metal gave it away, it was a pup pack belonging to an Ultranationalist, one the white Shepherd had likely stolen from.
"Do you speak… any English?" Chase repeated his question, silently taking in the looks of the dog before him. He had never seen a white German Shepherd before, and he was completely unprepared for how beautiful her purple eyes were.
The dog grimaced, slightly lowering her gun and looking to the side. "Enough." She said simply, "who are you?"
"Chase, Paw Patrol division," he let himself ease slightly, "we got a message from someone in Lupe's team-"
It was those last words that made the white dog suddenly stare in alarm, a gesture that took Chase off guard. No longer interested in holding him at gunpoint, the dog lowered the gun and put it away. "You? You came… for me?"
"Yes, that's why I'm here," Chase walked forward a little, "what's your name?"
She hesitated for a moment, lowering her ears a little before speaking, "Robyn," she said simply, "I am… worker."
"Worker?" The police dog tilted his head.
"Machines," she continued, holding her paw out like she was trying to punctuate her words, "En.. crypt?"
Chase blinked in confusion.
"Na miłość boską," Robyn rolled her eyes, "I make machine, do you understand?"
"Not really," the police dog confessed, "but right now we need to get you out of here. Aleksei has taken most of Barkingburg, and the longer we stay here the more dangerous it'll get." He walked to the window and carefully peered out, looking for guards down below. It was then he quickly remembered Robyn belonged to a team, and he turned back to her with a question, "where's Lupe and the others?"
Her face fell, Robyn took a step back as her eyes widened. It was clear she could understand English perfectly, just had trouble forming the words herself. It would be outrageously difficult to tell a terrible truth, a truth that shook her to the core.
"They…" she looked down, "they're dead."
At first, Chase didn't believe her, passing off her words as a cruel joke in the worst of times. His face twisted into confusion, then drew back like he expected her to laugh. But she didn't, she merely bowed her head and shame, leaving Chase to sink away in a horrific realization.
The elite squad of Adventure Bay was dead, Robyn was all that remained.
"Oh…" he breathed, "oh no…"
"We lost, papers," Robyn came forward a little, trying to explain in her broken tone, "they were waiting. Aleksei, there." She flexed her dull claws in anger, bitter resentment hitting her as she recalled the terrible memory. The whole team was thrown by an explosion, Lupe landing on the floor, Skyler and Tiana flung into the walls, and herself threw back into debris. Aleksei personally arrived on the scene, brandishing a firearm which he would then use to execute each and every one of them. "Only with a small chance could I escape," she sat back, stewing in the sorrow of her fallen team.
"I…" Chase was unsure what to say, half in shock from the news, "I'm… so sorry." Out of instinct to help her, he slowly crept to her side. Holding up his paw, he hovered it over her shoulder, unsure if physical contact was an okay thing between them.
"But I not fail," she suddenly turned her head, looking into his eyes, "even in dark hours, I will not fail." Oblivious to Chase trying to show her affection, she got up and walked to the window, "I have uncovered important Informacja, it is why I have come here."
"You didn't mention that in the message," Chase narrowed his eyes.
"Why would I? Prying ears everywhere."
"Well, it'll have to wait, I need to get you back home to Adventure Bay." The Shepherd put his paw down, "Ryder specifically requested it."
To his surprise, Robyn laughed off his words. To think someone would take him as a joke made Chase completely stop like a malfunctioning computer. The white Shepherd pushed past him, walking to the hatch on the floor and kicking the lock off.
"Tell your boy, it is him who will do the waiting," she chuckled, biting her teeth into the hatch's handle.
Chase shook his head, appalled, "wha- what? What are you talking about?"
In a swift motion, Robyn yanked the hatch open, revealing stairs leading down the tower, "I will not miss my chance."
"No, you're coming with me," annoyed, Chase walked straight over to her and stopped just inches from her face, staring her down. Unfazed, Robyn raised an eyebrow and returned an unflinching stare. Realizing that his intimidation wasn't working, Chase began to silently panic.
"What the hell is here that's so important?" He demanded, "my two teammates are sitting ducks out there, they're waiting for us!"
"Then tell them to leave, " she shrugged, "I am not leaving until I have what I need."
"Which is?!"
"Aleksei," she said, bitterness in her voice, "he is not here, but the machines downstairs hold Informacja on where he is."
He was still angry, but now Chase had a gleam of understanding. Flattening his ears, he looked to the floor and processed what he had heard. Robyn was planning to infiltrate a caste full of Ultranationalists for the sake of enemy intel that may not even be there.
"You were actually going down there?" He pointed his paw, bewildered, "you're actually gonna try that?"
Robyn giggled, "of course not," she flashed a mischievous smile, "that is why, I wait for you. You will protect me, yes?"
"I-" Chase tried to say, but she was already descending the staircase, disappearing from his view. At that moment, he debated leaving her behind, writing her off as dead and escaping back to the safety of home. Yet there was something rather fascinating about this Shepherd, a dog Chase could relate with, understanding her desire to jump behind enemy lines if it meant she'd save a city or two. It was this bonding moment that made a smile peel across his face, faint excitement beginning to build within him.
"Ugh, damn it," he surrendered, then reached for his collar to click the radio on, "hey Rocky?"
It was a few seconds before Rocky's voice came through, "sheesh, what's taking you? I thought this was in and out."
"Look just leave without me," the Shepherd said apologetically, "I found Robyn, and she has other plans before we leave."
"What? We can't just leave you," now it was Zuma talking on the line, "you're in enemy territory just get out of there!"
"Either wait for me or leave then," Chase put his paw down, clicking off his collar. He had an odd feeling about Robyn, a flicker of endearment he wanted to explore. Rocky and Zuma would have to wait, for there was excitement to be had.
She had already made her way downstairs while Chase followed behind. It was rather alarming how carelessly Robyn was moving around the enemy-controlled castle. Reaching an empty hallway stripped of banners and royal decorations, Chase met up with Robyn peeking around a corner.
"Where're all the guards?" He asked her, looking around as he came up to her side.
"Bottom floor," she said simply, keeping close to the wall as she began moving again. There was a fierce aura of determination within her, it only piqued Chase's interest even more. His interest in her was dangerous, lowering his guard and drawing his attention.
"So," the police officer glanced to the side for a moment, following behind her, "where are you from?"
Robyn steadily approached a doorway off to the left wall, and she quickly crouched down low to reduce her profile. Bringing forward her firearm, she led with the muzzle of her gun, even though she had just told Chase there weren't any guards up with him. Yet, mistakes can be made, and she didn't survive dozens of deadly situations by not accounting for every possibility.
"My team is dead, we are locked in enemy ground," she muttered, "and your first instinct is to flirt with me."
Chase went red, flattening his ears, "I'm not… flirting."
The white Shepherd briefly looked back, raising an eyebrow with an unamused expression. "Jesteś bardzo odważny," she said in a low tone, watching Chase's face twist in confusion, "Uważam to za raczej słodkie."
Her partner turned his head, fluffing up his fur a little to hide his blush, "okay, clearly there's a miscommunication between us," he said, annoyed, "can you throw me a bone here, and just speak English?"
"My English is not good," she shrugged, "why don't you learn Polish?"
"Hey, I can speak Spanish!"
Robyn only giggled in response, a gesture that left Chase flustered and desperate to rescue his pride. Already reading her partner like a book, Robyn gently tapped Chase's nose with her tail. "Słodki szczeniak"
"Wow, I just met you, and I already kinda hate you." Chase averted his eyes to a dusty suit of armor left on display.
Adept at reading social cues, Robyn loved meeting new people as she was well primed in how to carry a conversation. Still, her heart wept over the loss of her squad, and she needed something badly to occupy her mind. Something to distract her from the loss, something new she could explore while actively escaping enemy territory. She'd never say this out loud, but she found Chase to be rather lovely.
With a reddened Shepherd in tow, Robyn peeked through the left door. The room inside was an old wine cellar, evident by the long empty wine racks and wooden barrels at the corner of the room. Everything had been pushed to one corner of the room to make way for enemy equipment, it was a characteristic of the Ultranationalists to disregard others and their property.
What was once a wine cellar had been converted into a room of storage crates and weapon racks. It was unnerving to see the room empty, and Robyn was beginning to wonder if there was another reason all the guards were absent. Shaking her head of the intrusive thoughts, she moved forward to a folding table that was set up in the middle, carrying an open laptop and some files.
"Here we go," she said, putting her paw on the computer's keyboard.
Chase walked in behind her, looking at the wine racks in faint interest, "I'm all for intelligence, but that thing is locked. We don't have the password,"
"Don't need one," she said almost instantaneously, and her paws began moving, typing away on the computer.
Approaching her, and trying hard not to admire her figure, Chase tilted his head, "what are you doing?"
"Hard to explain," she responded, the tapping of her work sounding away, "but I am very skilled in this field, you must give me time."
"Are you saying you can hack the computer?"
"Pfft, 'hack'is a głupi word invented by you Americans," she scoffed, "no, I am not hacking the computer. I am making a backdoor for later when I have my tools, for now, we must take this laptop with us."
"So we can finally leave now?" Chase let his eyes trail around. He caught himself being mesmerized by Robyn's tail and had to forcibly pull his gaze elsewhere. What caught his interest next was the computer itself, while his partner typed away on it setting up things he didn't understand, Chase noticed one single cord that was connected to the laptop. Nothing unusual, but the cord started a single plug in the computer, only to follow out in almost a dozen different wires that leeched to the ground. The veins of wire then sprawled out for a few inches, only to completely disappear into the floor. What on Earth was this computer wired to?
"Okay. We leave now," Robyn said, not noticing what Chase had seen. She closed the laptop and moved her paw to unplug it.
Then the realization hit him, and suddenly Chase understood why it was so easy to come in here. Rearing in alarm, he jumped to grab his partner. "Robyn no!"
Too late. She flicked the cord out, unplugging it from the laptop and tripping the explosives rigged under the floor. The entire ground erupted into flames, shredding up through the concrete and destroying the room with a charged ignition. Shattered debris tore into the two dogs, breaking out the walls into the cold night. The explosion itself could be heard from a mile away, alerting the Ultranationalists that their trap had been sprung.
When Chase awoke, he was overcome with a cold, agonizing shiver within him. He was lying on his side in the grass, dust, and debris caking his body. "Hnnng," he let out a pained groan, trying to move his paws. His pup pack was gone, along with his gun and equipment. The foul metallic taste of blood dripped in his mouth, he was likely injured, yet he had no idea where. The explosion had thrown him out of the castle, probably through a wall even, and he needed to find Robyn immediately.
"Ghh-" he tried to stand, getting into a gentle position and pushing himself up from the debris-covered ground. Gritting his teeth as pain tore through him, he flexed his claws as hard as he could in a feeble attempt to suppress the pain.
They were coming.
"Chase!" Came a voice from afar, echoing into his ears.
Slowly turning his head, he expected his snow-furred partner, "Robyn?" But to his disappointment, it wasn't her.
"Chase what the hell!" Rocky shouted as he ran over, turning around every few seconds to fire his rifle into the dust cloud. "The entire Ultranationlist army is right on top of us! We need to go, now!"
"But…" the Shepherd tried to say, blinking as he staggered. Idly looking up, Chase spotted an upper wall of the castle that was fractured out, meaning he fell an entire second floor to the ground.
The mixed breed charged over, gripping Chase's face in his paws. "Did you find the contact?!" He searched the Shepherd's eyes for any delusion or physical trauma.
"She-" Chase stuttered, "I… we need to find her!" He desperately pled to his brother-in-arms, realizing Robyn was also thrown from the explosion, and possibly trapped under a piece of a wall somewhere.
"No chance!" Rocky pulled Chase up, starting to push him along, "they're coming over the hill at once, if we don't leave now, we all die!"
Those words were haunting, tearing into the Shepherd like a freezing knife. Rocky always chose to see the bigger picture, a way of thinking Chase recently started hating about him. He could not leave Robyn behind, not after everything, not after all the things he planned to say and try with her. Yet if they didn't leave, they risked their own lives, as the entire enemy army was about to be kicking down the walls. Looking back at the damaged castle, dust making his eyes water, he quickly looked back at Rocky. Breathing heavily, Chase made a difficult decision, placing his paw on Rocky's shoulder.
"Then go!" He growled at the mix, "put a bullet in Aleksei for me!" With a sharp push, he shoved his way off the mix's hold, taking Rocky by surprise. Without thinking, Chase quickly turned and charged back to the castle like an animal being released into the wild. Ignoring his brother frantically calling his name, he lept through a gaping hole in the wall that had been fractured in from the explosion. He only had mere minutes until the enemy arrived, his heart was pounding and his mind racing. Coughing out dust, he sped through a room of wooden debris and shrapnel, whatever initial furniture that once was had been crushed under the fallen ceiling.
He could've run past three enemy Ultranationlists and not paid them any mind, rounding a corner and running into the main hall of the castle. Making a turn so sharp he almost tripped over himself, Chase charged up the massive staircase that led up the castle.
"Chase, get the hell back here!" Rocky shouted through his radio collar, "what you're doing is suicide!"
Growling at his lack of moral support, Chase jumped up the last few steps. "I could've sworn I muted you," he said coldly, his mind occupied with returning to the last place he saw Robyn.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed on purpose?!"
"We can't let Aleksei get Robyn!" Chase argued, nearly flying down a hallway, "she's no ordinary soldier, we need her!"
"What if she's dead?"
"Then-" he stuttered, wincing at the haunting thought of losing someone so endearing that quickly, "then I'll have to confirm her death."
"Well, I'll be confirming yours in a few minutes," Rocky said grimly, "I can see them, running into the courtyard like fucking ants… I have to retreat."
"I told you to leave," Chase skidded to a halt, approaching the doorway into the computer room he and Robyn entered through. Broken concrete had smashed down, barring the doorway and denying him entry, "just go, Rocky, I kinda figured at the start this was a one-way trip."
"... Godspeed, Chase…" Were Rocky's last words before his radio went dark.
He could hear them, piling through the doors and swarming the ground floor, inspecting the trap site and looking for bodies. Chase knew right away if he would die, it wouldn't be quiet, he'd go out shooting as many as he could. If he was lucky, Aleksei himself possibly tagged along, he could sacrifice himself to kill the terrorist leader once and for all. That was his contingency plan, an eye for an eye, the death of a wicked dog for the price of a German Shepherd.
He wanted to call for Robyn, but to bark would expose himself to the Ultranationalists, he needed to be creative, and fast. Even if he couldn't enter through the blocked door, he had other ways of getting in the room. The explosion had weakened most of the interior wall, rendering it down to mere paper and drywall holding up the privacy of the room. Bleeding with determination, he propped his paws against the wall and pushed it forward. At first, it was unsuccessful, the movement of the wall displaced a large amount of dust and tiny pieces of debris, but it still held. Increasing his strength, he shoved his paws in with all his might. He felt his arms break through, crashing into the surface as cracks and fractures bled up the wall. The entire thing collapsed before him, allowing him entry into the room.
He could pick up the voices of the Ultranationalists downstairs, they most certainly heard that and were on their way.
"Robyn!" He leapt through the cloud of dust and mildew, entering the ravaged room. The coldness of midnight lurked in from the gaping hole in the exterior wall, the product of the explosion.
She was lying on her side, motionless at the edge of the room. Chase went into alarm and hurried to her aid, pleading for Robyn to be alive. Given her positioning, she wasn't launched outside but instead flung off a wall. Her fur was stained with dust and smelled of sulfur, what was once a beautiful white coat was matted and unkempt.
Coming to her side, filled with panic and desperation, he crouched down and placed a paw on her forehead, "Robyn?"
It looked like she was sleeping, peacefully snoring away on a bed of fractured concrete, wearing pajamas made of soot and gunpowder. On the blink of being overcome with fear, Chase tried to pull himself together, putting his paw to her soft neck and feeling for a pulse.
She was alive.
Just barely, the blast had knocked her unconscious, but still her body refused to give up. He'd have to carry her if they were to escape, but still he remembered their mission. If Robyn was to come out alive, she'd be plenty annoyed at him for leaving behind the one thing they came for. Scanning the floor, he quickly spotted the computer Robyn had tampered with. Running over, he grabbed it in his teeth and brought it to Robyn's pup pack. Acting fast, Chase stored away the computer and slung the backpack onto himself. He pushed his nose underneath her and propped her body on his back. It was a rescue he never thought he'd have to go through. This wasn't a baby bird or a lost turtle, this was life or death.
"Rocky, Zuma, I need a pickup outside the castle right now!" He shouted, no longer seeing the point in being quiet. Without thinking, he ran toward the hole in the outside wall and looked out. It was a jump he wasn't sure he'd make safely, as it was a concerning drop down to the grass. There weren't any soldiers outside, likely because they were all ganging up on Chase's position.
Bracing himself, Robyn in tow, Chase inhaled deeply and took a leap of faith. He tried to land in a way that would do as less damage as possible, but he was hindered from carrying his partner. A loud grunt of pain was forced from his lungs as he collided with the ground, but his body cushioned Robyn's fall and that was all that mattered. Ignoring the now screaming agony in his knees, he pushed himself up and began running. All he needed to do was get outside the outer wall and he could escape out into the plains.
Zuma's voice came through, his tone bristled with agitation, "are you insane? Look, I don't want you to die, but you're asking us to fly directly over the-"
"No! I'm running outside!" Chase shouted, charging over the stepping stones and flying past the deactivated fountain in the courtyard. Behind him, an Ultranationalist simply turned his head, and spotted the Shepherd in his escape. With one barking command, the entire enemy legion now had a fix on Chase's position. All he could do was run.
"What about Robyn?" Rocky asked, joining on the call, "what's her status?"
Panting as his stamina was leaving him, he had to act fast, "she's alive, but incapacitated, we need to get her to Marshall ASAP!"
"Okay well… where are you?"
"I'm-" Chase was about to say, but his ears aligned and caught onto the charging roars of the enemy behind him. If he ran any longer, he'd die tired. He needed to do something tactical in a matter of seconds or the grass would run red with his blood. His mind recalled an old memory of when he'd play hide-and-seek with Marshall, Chase would strategically hide in the woods, his brown fur blending with the trees and under foliage.
Even with the darkness of the night, Robyn's white fur stuck out like a giant spotlight. He could hide, but she certainly couldn't, even in the dark she'd be spotted in a second. It seemed like there was no other option, Chase saving his own life and letting her be spotted, or both embracing death. Tears streaming down his face, he improvised a third option.
He screeched to a halt and let Robyn fall into the tall grass. Sure enough, her white coat was more than visible, something Chase needed to cover immediately. Without thinking, he moved on top of her and gently lowered himself down, obscuring her from view. Needing to be as low as possible, he pressed close into Robyn's fur, letting his head carefully rest on the side of her face.
They were nearing, and Chase braced himself to be shot dead.
An enemy suddenly ran past them, holding his gun as he disappeared away, then a second one whizzed by. Then a third, then a fourth, and suddenly the entire Ultranationlist squad all ran past them one by one, completely oblivious to the two hiding in the grass.
Taking steady breaths, Chase slightly nuzzled Robyn's cheek, trying to use the comfort of her touch to calm himself and his heart rate.
"Hold on, Robyn," he breathed into her ear, "just hold on a little longer, I promise if we make it out alive, I'll never leave your side as long as I'm alive."
He pressed both paws into the sides of her head, pressing his cheek to hers, a hopeless gesture of affection to comfort an endangered soul.
Faint words were uttered from the white Shepherd's lips, "Matka," she said with the quietest tone, cracking her eyes open to gaze at the Shepherd on top of her, "fly me to the moon."
"What?" Chase went wide-eyed, bewildered that she was speaking.
"Let me play… among the stars," Robyn said softly, remembering a song her mother used to sing her, a song that brought her comfort amidst the horrors of the world, "let me see what spring is like on… Jupiter or Mars."
Gazing lovingly down into her purple eyes, Chase could see stars of his own within her irises. There was a beautiful shimmer in her eye, something he just couldn't avert his attention from. Her voice was like that of a siren, flowing into his ears and dancing into his heart, and instantly any feelings he may have felt for Skye were gone in an instant.
The sound of an approaching helicopter snapped him out of his gaze, also bringing Robyn to attention. The Ultranationalists were distracted but they'd be returning soon, they had to act fast if they were to escape.
Releasing Robyn from under him, Chase made a feeble attempt to control how much he was blushing, while his partner merely fluffed up her fur.
"Come on!" Zuma opened the door from the inside, beckoning them to enter the vehicle.
The Barkingburg Infiltration went down in the records as one of the riskiest missions the Paw Patrol ever went out on. Ryder was aghast at the sheer lengths Chase went on just to rescue one dog, yet the Shepherd swore up and down Robyn's retrieval was for the better. She introduced herself to the team as a master computer scientist and programmer and brought forward the information she had collected from the castle. She had to spend a day in Rubble's bunker decrypting her way through the computer, while Chase stopped in to see her every few hours to bring her food and a drink. Rubble would raise an eyebrow at the odd frequency of Chase's visits, but it was nothing too concerning.
The next morning, Robyn emerged into the Lookout and revealed what she had discovered, a vital piece of data that exposed the head leader of the enemy.
Aleksei was hiding in Foggy Bottom.
The leader of the Ultranationalists was stationed in a personal camp within the foggy island, hosting all his main operations from there.
"This may be our one and only chance," Ryder said that morning, addressing the line of dogs before him. Robyn was sitting in the line to Chase's left, proudly in attention. He continued, "we need all paws on deck, we're going to Foggy Bottom."
An aura of excitement and anticipation was among the dogs, Chase and Robyn looked at each other with smirks, ready for the mission they knew were coming.
"What's the mission?" Rocky asked, his tail wagging as he already knew the answer.
Grinning, Ryder turned to the big screen, where a map had been pulled up displaying the island's location.
"Go to the island, hunt down Aleksei… and take him down."