Lockdown (Paw Patrol)

by HyenasquadOPS

A terrible threat has escaped into Adventure Bay, threatening the very lives of its inhabitants. As the Paw Patrol struggles to maintain order, Chase finds himself clashing with the Assault and Containment Guild, a government team sent to lock down the town. When the threat begins to close in, the Paw Patrol is not just trapped within The Lookout, but forced to stare at true death.

20. Full Circle

Act III- Dawn of the Dogs

The explosion had seemingly come from nowhere.

All Rocky remembered was running toward the shelves, scattering tools and throwing boxes aside like trash as he frantically searched for something to free Chase. Even though the police dog had given his final rites through the door, the mix refused to walk away, desiring to try until the very last moment to save the shepherd. Zuma's body lay on the floor, splayed out as a faint trickle of blood came from his head. The Labrador had been struck hard, Rocky didn't desire to go farther, he just needed the problematic dog to stay down for a few moments. Overcome in panic and anxiety, Marshall tried to say something but his voice had given out, forcing the Dalmatian to flee for somewhere to hide. Rocky looked toward another shelf, still with a hopeful expression, when the blast happened. The walls smashed inward, a wave of fire violently erupting through it into the room. The explosion toppled the rest of the tower before they had any chance to react, the fires catching them within its surging claws.

It was a while before Rocky regained consciousness. Wincing, he tried to lumber himself back up, his paws scratching against the floor. He felt burned, his fur singed as fire screeched over him during the explosion. The door that acted as the barrier to the basement held against the blast for only half a second, before the pressure ripped it off the wall and sent it crashing through the air. Coughing out dust, he tried to see through the smoke that pilfered in the room.

Liberty was next to stand, hobbling her elongated body on four weak little legs. She tried to speak but only hacked out ash and dust. Blinking her eyes, she turned her head slowly, only to come to a massive hit of shock. She jumped back at the sight of a metal object smashed into the garage door, bending it inward and opening up the outside. It was the door from earlier, ruptured off its hinges and now used to break out of the garage.

"Marshall?!" Rocky barked, looking around the scorched room, "are you-"

"Yeah I'm right here," the Dalmation suddenly appeared at his side, his white fur blackened with soot, "you okay?"

To Rocky's complete absolute surprise, Marshall wasn't even a twinge afraid. He was clearly in somewhat distress, as he had just witnessed his home collapse, yet for the current situation, he was oddly calm and collected.

"Me?" The mix said, aghast, "what about you, you're covered in ash!"

"It's soot, actually, there's a difference," the Dalmation shook himself, producing a black cloud, "these kinds of scenarios are my specialty, I'm a firefighter, remember?" He gave a confident smile.

"Wait," Liberty ran up, "where's Zuma?"

All three dogs looked to where the Lab's body was left. To their alarm, the fourth dog had vanished without a trace. Not even a trail of pawprints could be seen, nor a blood trail, Zuma had seemingly woken up and slipped away.

"We need to find him!" Marshall looked to the group, "and Chase too," he was already walking toward the dark empty doorway.

Instantly agreeing with Marshall, Liberty jumped to his support, "I agree, we gotta find the Lab."

Rocky was unsure, "do we, though?" He questioned, "you saw what he did."

The Dalmation stopped in his tracks, quietly heeding his words. Marshall loved his family unconditionally and seeing Skye and Rubble fall to the monster nearly shattered him. He lowered his head, whimpering as he looked to the dark corridor.

The sadness within the poor dog was infectious, and Rocky lowered his ears as he sat down, "Marshall, come on." They needed to get a move on, and as much as Rocky's own heartache from leaving Chase and Zuma behind, the nightmare wasn't over. "Look, the garage door has been broken open," he pointed his tail toward it, a small cough puffing out of him, "let's just... go."

"No!" Marshall stood firmly, "I'm not leaving Chase or Zuma down there!"

"We aren't leaving, just... getting out of here." The mix tried to reason, "out of the smoke at least."

Despite his reluctance, Marshall eventually relented with slight agitation in his eyes. His mood was read rather easily by his greyer brother, and Rocky held out his paw with compassion in his eyes. As the two of them turned to escape the basement, finally emerging outside, Liberty narrowed her eyes. Her work wasn't done yet.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He thought he was dead.

Chase and Feroxmalis shared a room as it sparked into flames, consuming the entire basement and tower in mere seconds. Both the puppy and the creature were within the eye of the storm, their bodies almost incinerated in the blast. And yet, upon painfully opening his eyes to the ruined, charred room, did he realize he was still alive.

He woke up screaming in agony, "hauuaaaaaaahhhh!" His body was blistered and burned over, patches of his fur and skin peeled away to a pink, soft layer. There was not a word imaginable for the pain he felt, as the first breaths he took seemed to scrape the interior of his lungs. As the scream forced out the air in his body, he began hyperventilating, each and every breath bringing out a smaller scream with it.

He was alive. What horrid diety above had denied him the chance to die? How much more would he be forced to suffer? His mind was long broken, and now his body as well, perhaps he would never have the chance to rest. He shouldn't be alive, the smoke should've infested his lungs and suffocated him. For him to be spared, something had to have broken through the basement, creating a hole to the outside where the smoke could escape. And if such a place had been created, it meant he had a chance to escape outside. Or maybe it was the garage, a sign that it was opened and waiting for him?

"What?! Where-" he cried out with a scratchy voice, "where am I?!" His heart and lungs still erratically pounding away, the sound of settling metal creaking above him. The entire room had caved in, the ceiling bursting open like a boil, spilling in various metals and building foundation to meet a melting doom in the fires. The inferno was gone, however, only leaving behind the festering burns on his body and a room covered in ash and soot.

A part of him wanted to lie down and stay there, giving up his life with all the agony it presented. Only in the back of his mind did he know that there was still a chance, an opportunity to reunite with his family. Praying Feroxmalis was buried and incinerated from the blast, Chase flexed his first paw, his front left, trying to feel its articulation. After some painful movement testing, he concluded all his limbs and joints were fine, although cooked medium rare from the fire.

Unable to suppress his pain, the dog audibly let out several groans and cries as he pushed himself up. To say it hurt to walk was an understatement, as his entire right paw was peeled pink of its top layer.

"Okay," he staggered, trying to slow his heart rate, "oh- okay..." loudly emitting a groan, he took a step forward. After taking a moment, he remembered vaguely where he was: the communication room. Gritting his teeth at the pain, he began making his way toward the exit, limping slowly. Walking out into the hallway, stepping over fallen metal and burned drywall, his eyes widened as the damage was revealed. The blast had almost completely incinerated Feroxmalis' nest, the walls of flesh and gore burned into ash and revealing the real basement walls behind. It was refreshing to see the corridors empty of infection finally, and even the eggs were gone with not a trace of them in sight. Perhaps Zuma hadn't failed after all.

Walking in the direction of the garage, Chase stopped in the middle of his hallway. His path was blocked, and the top ceiling shattered and collapsed into debris. First believing he was trapped, he lowered his eyes and emitted a pained whine, until he remembered the vents. With Feroxmalis' infection gone, the ceiling vents were finally uncovered and unclogged of the biomass. All Chase needed was a vent entrance, and he'd have to backtrack for one.

"Alright then," he growled, his right leg quivering as it tried to stand, "so be it."

Sharply turning on his path, he faced away and walked in the other direction. Scanning his eyes along the bare wall for a vent opening, he turned his nose away at the disgusting smell of fried gore. Even while most of it was gone, it had been cooked into a disgusting stench that flooded the hallway and its corridors. His mind raced for solutions, roadmaps, any answer for where his life could be headed should he escape. Even if Ryder somehow returned within the hour, a good portion of the team was gone and the rest scarred, and the entire tower was destroyed. Where could they go from here?

Making a turn as he followed the hallway, he thought over each of his friends and family with remorse. He'd never find an apology suitable enough to redeem what he had done, assuming it was redeemable at all. Marshall used to be innocent, only to have it all shattered in the worst way possible, surely he'd never be the same again. As much as Chase hated to say it, he was no leader, such a title could only be applicable to Rocky, the one dog who held them all together the best he could. He didn't blame Zuma for what he did, almost believing his life was worth ending. He could barely imagine what Skye would think of all this, and he wondered if killing her was more a mercy than putting her through the horrors. With Rubble carrying Feroxmalis from the beginning, if he ever got out of here Chase would shudder at any bulldog he came across.

Emerging into a clearing, the burned Shepherd looked around as the old memories of his life danced in his head. Each step of his paw cracked and sizzled above the ash-covered floor, stenches of melted rubber and plaster making him grimace. There was nothing left down here, just an empty tomb of broken hearts. The sooner he found a vent opening, the sooner he would escape this nightmare. Sure enough, limping through the room he finally found a vent cover loosely fastened. He had found his escape.

"Trying to show me up again?"

Chase stopped in his tracks, recognizing the voice all too well. Taking a long sigh, he lowered his head a little as he felt a burning gaze on his back. Walking through the ash and debris, Zuma emerged with a cold expression on his face. "You always were hard to get rid of." He admitted with a slight drip of admiration, only for it to be quickly swallowed up with spite.

Still, with his back turned, Chase searched for words to say, but he couldn't find anything to say.

"What are you?" Zuma squinted his eyes, looking the burned dog up and down, "how did we get here?" He said, looking down at the ruined basement floor, "everything's gone, turned to ash, and who's fault is that?"

Now Chase turned to face him, a sternness in his eyes, "yours," he said simply, "you're the one who destroyed The Lookout."

"I did what needed to be done!" The Lab argued, "burn down our home, maybe, but look around you! It fried the infection and killed Feroxmalis!" He declared with fanatical victory, a grin creeping on his face, "the only thing I have left to get rid of is you... whatever you are"

"You..." Chase said with a shaky breath.

"No, you're not allowed to talk," Zuma suddenly growled, bristling his fur, "because all that's ever come out of your mouth is lies!" He swiped his paw in rage, kicking a piece of wood. His voice slowly lowered, speaking calmly yet the rage was all too clear, "and maybe a lie I could get behind, we've all... made our mistakes," he admitted, "but you're... a murderer. And killing a member of our family... well I don't think I could ever get behind that."

It was then that Chase understood, "you're... you're here to kill me, aren't you?"

The Lab was unresponsive, yet his eyes flicked to meet Chase's gaze, a quiet standoff between the two of them.

"So that's it?" The shepherd chuckled darkly, "kill your own brother, and that's the end of the Paw Patrol?"

"You are not my brother!" Zuma suddenly shouted, snapping in anger, "matter of fact... I don't really know what you are. You're not the dog I spent ten years with..." he shook his head, "you're not Chase."

Even in his own anger, Chase couldn't deny how much he agreed with those words. Sighing to himself, his hostility faded away leaving him as nothing broken shell. Letting himself get back, his burned wounds cracked in protest as he moved, his ears flattened as he could only confirm Zuma's word.

"You're right," he finally confessed, a faint sniffle emitting from him, "I... I don't even know who I am anymore." Tears ran down his cheeks, hissing as they passed over one of his blisters. He had tried to fight through the sadness, the static, the shame, but now he realized he never could. "Nothing..." he whimpered, "nothing will ever be the same..."

He looked back at Zuma, now unable to control the emotion leaking from his eyes, "I... I'm... sorry, Zuma."

The Lab faltered slightly, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry." Chase wept, "for ruining... all of it."

Heeding his words, Zuma averted his eyes to the ground, pondering over his choices in the situation. He had won, although he didn't expect how easily he achieved it. A part of the Lab wanted Chase to remain defiant, allowing him to further bask in the satisfaction of exposing a monster hiding within his friend.

But Chase wasn't a monster, he was a puppy. A sad puppy who made terrible mistakes and was being eaten up alive inside. Perhaps the old police dog of the past still remained within him, but Zuma wasn't interested in the answer to that question. Something about Chase's accountability only made him angrier.

"We've done a lot, haven't we?" The Lab leaned back a little, "we've solved problem after problem, saved the town and city more than we can count." He came back forward, remembering a key moment from their time in Adventure City, "yet... somehow, it always comes back to you." He said with spite on his tongue, "what makes you so much more special than us, Chase? It's always you up in front, speaking for the squad... and dogs like me in the back." For the longest time, Zuma remained the underdog of the team, with few times was he called on missions. It was always Chase, Marshall, or even Rocky who sat on the pedestals, meanwhile, Zuma and sometimes Rubble were simply left at home.

His grudge of being underused wasn't exactly important to their situation, but now that he had a moment alone with what remained of their leader, it was going to be addressed.

"Even now, facing death," Zuma spat the last word, "it's you who tries to control us, direct us like fucking puppets. Well, we did it!" He laughed erratically, "we followed your word and obeyed every little command you gave us!" He darkened, leering at Chase with gritted teeth, "are you proud of where your leadership took us? Skye and Rubble dead, Marshall traumatized, and Rocky struggling to keep his own sanity!? You know, I knew you wouldn't agree with me on my plan to incinerate the tower, of course you wouldn't." He grinned, wagging his tail slowly, "no tower means no Paw Patrol, and once that's gone, there's no one left for you to control."

The Shepherd froze in horror, backing up slightly, "Zuma... that's not true..."

"No, it is." The Lab defied, "I'm more of a leader than you ever were, and I'll make them see that..." he emitted a low growl, "whatever it takes to fix what you destroyed."

To see his old friend acting on such cold ambition was horrific, breaking Chase's heart further than he ever imagined. He had seen a lot and dealt with terrible things, but this was something else. He couldn't let Zuma hurt his friends, a crying fire surged within him, screaming up to Chase that he couldn't die now. He had to go back, he had to make sure they were all okay. Chase shook his head, blinded by his own emotion and panic, "I just wanted to... keep you all safe... keep you happy."

"You want us to be happy?" Zuma challenged, "we won't be happy until you're gone... and I fix everything."

Breathing heavily and ignoring his body pain, Chase slowly stood up. Narrowing his eyes, he curled his lips against the patches of exposed flesh, baring his teeth. "I... will not let you do that."

Snarling, Zuma dropped his morals and embraced his own rage, "I figured, ... hhraaahhhh!"

The Labrador jumped forward, calling forth his feral instinct into the attack. Lunging at the shepherd, he bared his teeth and went for the neck. Shaking his head from the fog, Chase was quick to strafe to the side, his body wounds screaming from the explosive moment. Both dogs collided with one another, snapping their teeth and barking with the intention to maim. Being a German shepherd, Chase was stronger, although his severe burns had weakened him. Zuma was lighter and his species was not known for fighting, but he utilized every drip of his elusiveness and speed to evade Chase's snaps and swipes.

As the sound of their snarls and battle cries bounced off the walls, Chase thrust his head forward in an attempt to grab the feral Labrador. Quickly jumping to the side, Zuma rolled off the ground as his friend passed over him. Now behind his foe, he jumped into the air and landed on Chase's back, instantly gripping his teeth into the Shepherd's burned scruff and yanking it in all directions. Drops of blood and flesh slowly tore off one by one as Zuma mauled into him, Chase howling as he tried to shake him off.

In a swift motion, Chase threw himself into the charred wall, crushing Zuma under it and causing a breath to escape the Lab, forcing him to release his teeth. Quickly, Chase bucked his legs, tossing the Lab off balance and making him lower his head as he tried to keep himself up. Now it was Zuma who screamed as Chase whipped his head around, catching his own teeth into Zuma's neck and ripping him down to the floor. The Lab collided with the ground, snarling and raging as he raked his claws in all directions, leaving red gashes on his attackers face.

Ignoring the pain, Chase crushed his teeth in his brother's neck as deep as they would go, using his own claws brutally hack away at Zuma's belly. Each swipe of his arm tore into the lower dog, first swiping off brown clumps of fire, then his claws suddenly ran red as swipes of blood were ripped out. He released Zuma with a pained howl as his Lab managed to knock him off, punching his paws across Chase's eyes.

As the shepherd staggered away, Zuma struggled to stand up as agonizing groans of pain left his muzzle. His neck was matted and red, and large streams of blood were leaking from his belly.

Fighting against his own injuries, Chase kept his breathing steady while locking eyes with his opponent. With brewing fire, they circled each other, Chase's ears suddenly picking up noise in the ceiling. Glancing upward, he could faintly hear something moving up above, likely in the vents. He knew the sound all too well, and his eyes widened at the realization that they weren't alone. Even in his darkest hour, Chase couldn't help but laugh, letting a slow chuckle slip out right at his brother's face. He laughed because Zuma failed, the basement and tower were destroyed yet he and the creature who started it all still walked alive.

With a look of fierce hatred, Zuma sucked in his breath as he sprinted forward again, baring his teeth as he lunged for any possible opening. He was met in the middle, Chase putting his paws forward and intercepting the Labrador, clashing them together and briefly locking their arms in a barking, snarling mess. The creature above them began to audibly move faster, responding to the noises of a broken family ripped apart by tragedy. A rush of adrenaline allowed Chase to violently shove Zuma off, flipping him to the side as he shifted his weight. The thinner dog hit the floor and instantly rolled back to his paws. Darting his amber eyes to the floor, he spotted a small blunt pipe likely broken off in the explosion. Wasting no time flipping it into the air and grabbing it in his teeth, he wielded it like a blunt weapon. Now Chase faltered in surprise as he took a step backward, taken off guard.

Zuma had never used a weapon before, as noted by his sloppy form of swinging a hard right as he jumped at Chase. The shepherd winced and jumped aside as quickly as he could, dodging the swing although he stumbled on the floor. Surging with ferocity, Zuma instantly swung back in the opposite direction, his own body getting carried by the weight of the swing. There was no window to evade the attack, and Chase winced as he held up an arm in a feeble attempt to defend himself. The blunt metal slammed against his body, knocking him backward and making him yell as white-hot pain paralyzed his arm. Dazed and mouth sore from holding the metal, Zuma shook his head as he dragged the pipe along the floor, watching his old leader stumble against the edge of the room. Even as his small body was beginning to buckle under the spent energy, the Labrador snarled as he held up the pipe in his mouth, bringing it in for another, albeit lackluster swing.

Acting in a flash, Chase jumped forward and caught the pipe in his paws, intercepting the attack and locking the weapon between them. Zuma staggered as the shockwave hit him, nearly breaking a few of his teeth, then his head shot backward as the shepherd's paws punched his nose. The pipe dropped and hit the dusty floor, Chase leaping out and grabbing the Lab's paw in his teeth before he could fall back. Pulling Zuma right back in, he braced his claws and tore into the Lab's already-wounded belly, tearing into it even more than before. His opponent tried to scream but every sound was muffled by the shock as he was ripped into. By the time he pulled his paw free, Zuma was already a wounded mess. His stomach was shredded, raining blood in a way that flooded the floor, his paws and face torn into sending powerful agony through him.

Furiously growling, Chase stumbled back as his hold was broken, narrowing his eyes as he watched the Lab's move. With next to nothing left, Zuma grimaced his pain as he limped over, his hatred being the only thing to carry him if his body couldn't. But hatred had a way of taking more than it gave, and Zuma tried to attack although his form and speed were greatly hindered.

Chase stopped it right as it happened, grabbing Zuma's managed paw in his teeth and yanking him forward. The Labrador let out a squeak as his body tumbled to the floor like broken glass. Breathing heavily as blood escaped him, Zuma slowly looked up, fighting his pain for anything left to fuel him. Taking a final stand, the Lab staggered back up. Instantly, Chase's claws met Zuma's face, cleanly tearing into his eye and nose. The attack finished it, the force of the impact throwing Zuma back to the ground, and this time he didn't get up.

Watching his brother fall, Chase breathed heavily as the fight ended, his blistered body reprimanding him for the abrasive movement. The Labrador was subdued, as the shepherd's attack was meant to incapacitate him, such as the strategy of going for the eyes. Even if the other was intended a fight to the death, Chase's heart only broke at the sudden sight of Zuma broken on the floor. The fight left him, his ears and tail lowered as his face wore the expression of utter sorrow.

Struggling to stand, Zuma writhed on the floor, snarling and writhing as he was covered in cuts. Breathing sporadically, he looked up at his adversary, a hateful expression crossed his face yet there was a faint glimmer of something else.

"So..." he fought to get out, flexing his bloodied brown paws, "is this it? You're gonna... kill me too?" He let a red grin peel across his face, baring his broken teeth and cut gums. "Do it then..."

If Chase had any sliver of urges to kill the Labrador, they were history by now. In the fight he acted in defense, swiftly bringing the Lab down as his own drive carried him past his body's agony. But for every second he spent staring at his fallen brother, only sadness was met in return. He simply could not kill Zuma, never in a hundred years could he bring himself to do the deed.

After a long moment, Chase shook his head, "no... I won't."

"What?" Zuma said, almost in genuine surprise, "you have to! You have to-" a groan interrupted him, pain coursing through his frame, "you need to... finish what you started, right?"

The question hung in the air, but the shepherd merely looked away. The musty air of the burned room was filled with grief from both sides, a clashing of bloody teeth and claw ending with only sorrow and regret. Chase could see it now, the Paw Patrol was truly gone, no matter what he tried to tell himself. Something about the revelation brought an odd flicker of peace to his heart.

"I already have," Chase said, a tear running down his face, "... goodbye, Zuma." He turned his back on the Lab, returning to the vent gate on the wall.

His brother's voice shouted in alarm, "what!? No! Get back here!"

Chase gripped his paws along the edge of the vent gate, beginning to tug it free.

"Chase! You won't leave me here! You're a killer just like the rest!"

The shepherd swiftly gave a final tug, successfully pulling it off the wall and providing access to the vents inside.

"Think of Ryder dammit!"

Ryder. Chase merely chuckled as he dipped his head down and climbed into the vent, his paws crossing over from burned tile onto sheet metal.

"Chase!"

The call fell on deaf ears as the shepherd vanished into the narrow corridors, the tip of his tail finally disappearing away. Zuma watched it go, and with a horrible sinking feeling, he realized he was alone. Completely abandoned and left behind, a fate worse than death.

"Chase!" He shouted as loud as he possibly could, but there was no response, his enemy had escaped, as well as all his friends and family. Everything had failed, a shot to his gut that bled his own perfectionism. Everything was written to plan, yet it was he who suffered alone and abandoned.

Looking around helplessly, he couldn't believe his own situation, "no..." he uttered simply. His breathing went shaky, and he reached a paw forward in an effort to crawl. It was then he remembered how injured he was, his managed body unable to move. Growling, Zuma refused to bleed out underground where no one would find him, he had to get back. Fighting his pain, he reached forward again, his eyes locked on the vent opening.

A large, degloved "hand" suddenly dipped down in his view, flexing five razor-sharp claws. The wrist was fastened to the arm with shreds of burned vein and intestine, reeking a smell of burnt flesh. Zuma's breathing stopped, his heart skipping a beat as the sound of animalistic growling emitted behind him. With nowhere to go, the Lab helplessly looked behind him, terrified of what he would see.

Feroxmalis was beyond pissed off, its wormy, organ-like body showed clear blistering and burns. It had likely found somewhere to hide in the explosion, although not without suffering a few of its own injuries. What locked Zuma's expression and nearly stopped his pulse, was the creature's face.

The skin mask it wore, the only thing giving Feroxmalis a resemblance to a dog, was completely gone. Likely it burned off and instead of still wearing it, the creature simply discarded it away. Its true "face" underneath would haunt Zuma in the final seconds of his life. It had no ears or nose, such features only the mask possessed instead of Feroxmalis itself. Its entire head was composed of bloody pink flesh, with visible veins and moving worm-like appendages moving around it. With its mask gone, the large clumps of eyes that dotted its face were now revealed, in addition to its two main eyes, at least several more infested its head in various areas. Its chin, cheeks, and even the side of its muzzle had a bloodshot eye peeking out, all staring down at Zuma. Its mouth was locked in a permanent snarl, its full jaw now exposed as a line of jutting fangs. Tentacles hung down from the back of its head, moving in the air with the rest of them. Feroxmalis was never a dog to begin with, only a vile, crooked monster who sadistically wore the skin of one.

Zuma took only one fearful step back.

Feroxmalis seized him in an instant, attacking with all the rage and spite that could drip from such an awful creature. It latched its tentacle around the Labrador's legs and dragged him away, vanishing into the darkness of the basement.

-.-.-.-

Crawling through the vents of the Lookout, Chase hurried as much as he could. He shuffled his body through the dark passageways with only his family in mind. He saw light up ahead briefly, bringing hope into the dog as he quickened his pace. Approaching an exit in the vent, Chase excitedly peeked out, only for his joy to dim as he realized it was just another room.

"Great..." he grumbled, getting agitated with the complexity of the basement. Looking around, he saw only a massive furnace connected to several pipes along the walls. Some tables were stacked against the wall, and various objects littered the room. Chase rolled his eyes and turned away when he suddenly stopped cold, freezing to a halt as he suddenly remembered:

The boiler room, he had found it.

Amidst the terror and fear, Chase had almost entirely forgotten this room even existed, the core location he was trying to go to from the very beginning. In a foolish action, he had discarded his gun and ACG radio within these very walls, and now he could finally get them back. Exploding into movement, Chase turned and climbed out of the vent, finally returning to the boiler room as he stepped out. His heart pounded as he darted his gaze around, the triumph of finally reaching his objective almost sending him into a frenzy.

Then he stopped, his gaze fell upon the one soul that remained trapped within: Skye. With a haunting breath, Chase couldn't move as he spotted her. At first, she looked alive, merely sleeping on the metal table, and for a moment he was tempted to call her name. The cockapoo lay motionless, rigor mortis already settling in to lock up her limbs as her eyes dulled. She was long dead, merely encased in a tomb that was The Lookout.

Averting his eyes, although he couldn't hide from the guilt and shame that now hung over him, he took to the ground and trailed his nose, searching for his lost belongings. He kept his mind forward, but the haunted memory of the murder in The Lookout constantly crept up to him. He finally found his gun, bullets still within it, sitting on the floor under a table where it was tossed. Upon picking it up, Chase realized he had no way of efficiently holding it. His pup pack was long gone, yet he couldn't remember when he lost it. If it wasn't thrown off in the explosion, then it was lost sometime earlier in another attack. Lowering his ears in a whimper, he knew it'd be foolish to leave a weapon behind, especially now. With no other option, he made sure the safety was on and nestled the gun into his collar, the plastic strap still firmly holding on despite the burns around it, Ryder had made them well. The feeling of the metal on his neck was uncomfortable, not to mention the anxiety of having a weapon so close to him.

He also found the blood reader sitting on the floor, the one device that was supposed to save them all, yet a single misuse doomed them. Chase felt shame looking at it and kicked it away into the ash where it would never be found again.

The ACG radio was uncovered a few feet away, and to Chase's delight, it was still intact. Holding up the small device, he was suddenly filled with uncertainty. What if he did something wrong? What if they couldn't hear him? What if they weren't even in Adventure Bay anymore, Cyrus and the others long packed up their things and vanished? Even then, he was out of options.

Chase hit the button on the center, and a blinking green light turned on, a signal that it was activated. "Hello?" He spoke into it, half-expecting a reply, "can anyone hear me?"

The radio responded with only static, no sign of an answer from the other side.

The shepherd let out a sigh, already expecting this, "this Chase of... well, what was once the Paw Patrol. Look I... I don't know if anyone can hear me, but... we found it." He reported, "I mean hell, Feroxmalis really is here, it's been here for who knows how long. We fought it in the basements and we all got out except for... one of us. We also picked up Liberty from the Archline Foundation, I... I don't know if that's important." He sighed into the device, "this... animal, this creature, its nothing that belongs in this world. If you can hear me, send the artillery or whatever you have, it's mutated far out of control." He shrugged, "all right, that's all."

He let the radio fall out of his paw, plucking it to the floor. He turned back to Skye, still lying on the table. Shaking his head, he knew he'd face his crimes in death, although he had other matters to attend to now. He was tempted to place her in the furnace, gifting her a final rite of cremation. However, the explosion stole away all the fuel and ruptured the gas pipes, leaving the burning machine unusable. Turning around, he spotted the elevator doors that led to the rest of the tower. The power was beyond out, yet the damage the tower had received gave Chase an idea. The doors were cracked and slightly bent inward, allowing the shepherd to climb through them and emerge into the dark elevator corridor that led only upward. Surrounded by dead machinery, looking up he could see the elevator, still stuck on the main floor as it was pinned by debris and rubble, unable to move. Gripping the dangling cords and chains, Chase began a steady climb upward. He was thankful for that moment of Ryder teaching him how to climb during his police training.

Emerging through a broken hole in the elevator, Chase climbed up into the main "floor" of the tower on ground level. Looking around, the tower was completely unrecognizable compared to what it used to be. He was technically outside, but the explosion had leveled the tower, causing the main observation deck to fall and crash to the ground. Even with the canopy of broken metal above him, the grass floor was unmistakable, and Chase greatly enjoyed finally placing his paw upon the cool ground outside after all that time underground. Light peeked through the slits and crevices of the metal, signaling that it was no longer dark outside, and sunrise was just beginning. He never felt happier crawling through the wreckage and poking his head out into the fresh air. He would never take anything for granted again, the sight of trees and fields had never been so beautiful. The kennels still stood in a circle around the fallen tower, although Zuma's had been smashed under debris.

He was finally outside, he escaped.

There were no words to describe how amazing the sun felt on his fur after hours of dark cold from the basement. No more machinery, no more disgusting gore, no more infection, just a warm orange sky and bright green grass to embrace him. Taking in a deep inhale of fresh, outside air, he felt his body pain ease from the rays of the warm sun. Although there was no time for sunbathing, he still had to reunite with the others and flee the hospital.

Then a voice met his ears. "... how am I supposed to know? I'm not going back down there."

He turned his head in the direction of the sound and immediately started to walk. He was about to call out to the voice when he listened in more intently.

"Yeah, I have the mix and the dalmatian,"

Chase stopped, his eyes narrowing as he listened. Crouching down low, he began to creep forward with reduced noise. Darting back close to the massive pile of debris and metal that was once a tower, he used the jutting pieces as cover as he approached the speaker. Peeking out from his cover, he spotted Liberty standing in the clearing.

"Can't you just come get me?" The Dachshund argued into her collar, "I almost died several times!"

The sight of Liberty talking into a radio made Chase furious, as he firmly remembered she never had a collar during their time in the basement. She either hid it away where no one would see or- a possibility that made Chase's blood boil- she had taken it off Marshall or Rocky. Growling, he stepped out to confront her.

She didn't see him, "no, I don't have the shepherd or the labrador, and frankly, we may just have to cut our losses." She rolled her eyes, "... yeah I know Dutch will be pissed, you don't have to tell me."

Chase came up behind her, "who're you talking to?"

"Aaah!" The smaller dog spun around in surprise, startled as she spiked her singed fur. The sight of the burned shepherd nearly toppled her, and a very audible "click" could be heard from her radio. Whoever she was speaking to immediately hung up the line. "Chase, you're-" she stuttered in disbelief.

"Who were you talking to?"

"How- how are you-"

"Who, were you talking to?" Chase said with a growl, taking a step closer to her.

"H- hey!" Liberty recoiled fearful, taking a defensive step back. "Back off!"

Chase wasn't having it, "where are the others?!"

"I said back off!" She snarled, baring her teeth, "I have a knife!"

A knife, she had been armed this whole time. Finished with her games, Chase quickly sat back and pulled the gun from his collar. LIberty's eyes went wide, all her defiance gone in a snap upon spotting the much more lethal weapon. Fear spread through her as she stared down the barrel of the gun.

"Talk," he hissed, pointing the weapon between her eyes.

His captive flicked her eyes to the side, looking for a way out yet there was none. Realizing she was caught, Liberty was angry as she emitted a growl, only to sigh in defeat. Narrowing her eyes, she fluffed her fur a little in an attempt to maintain her composure.

She met Chase's fiery gaze, "fine..."