AN: Hey guys, have an update! Sorry for the slowness. New job and all so busy busy busy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Paw Patrol, but Damian Stone is my OC.


Chase always believed that the movies that had scenes where the cops meet the mafia guys in a secluded place to do negotiations were just the stuff of fiction. Then again, when you are part of the Paw Patrol, fantasy becomes reality as time passes. Chase, Marshall, Rocky, Skye, Rubble, and Sergeant Quản were waiting at the back of a parking lot next to an abandoned Macy's store for Fat Tuán to show up. Chase was still nervous about working with a member of the Chinese Mafia, especially since he was supposed to arrest people like this. However, he needed to look at the bigger picture, and right now, that was finding out about Qui-Shěn.

"Anyone else feels nervous about this?" Skye asked as she looked around. "Like we're rabbits waiting for the eagle to strike?"

"We'll be fine," Marshall said with assurance, but the shaking of his tail end made it clear he was just as timid.

Sergeant Quản then saw two cars and a few motorbikes coming over and nodded. "Look sharp. Here they come."

A few minutes later, the vehicles came to a stop, and men in suits came out of the car while the ones in bikes held Uzi's but didn't aim at them. A much older man in gray, bald, and with a dark brown goatee stepped out of the back car with a walking cane and walked over to the group with three of his bodyguards. Sergeant Quản walked forward as the two men bowed to each other in respect and began to speak in Chinese.

Since none of them knew the language, they could only hope that whatever Sergeant Quản was saying would be helpful and not have those Uzi's pointed at them before opening fire. Rocky bit his lip as Fat Tuán looked in their direction, smiled warmly, and then turned back to Sergeant Quản to speak some more. The mixed-breed said, "I guess he does like dogs?"

"Thank God we're not the Kitty Patrol," Marshall joked to try and loosen the tension.

Finally, Sergeant Quản finished talking before walking over to the others. "So good news and bad news."

"Good news first," Chase said.

"Fat Tuán is more than happy to help us deal with Qui-Shěn. He says the best way to do that would be to get Yùshé, and he knows where that cat is hanging out at all times, thanks to his informants. Yùshé is practically Qui-Shěn's number one. We get him. We can find where Qui-Shěn is."

"And the bad news?" Rocky asked.

"In exchange for this information, Fat Tuán wants us to eliminate some Russians who have been muscling in his territory. He doesn't care if it's done by the book, but he wants them gone," Sergeant Quản sighed. "The good news is this is the same group that Nikolai Brothers are using for their gun-making operations, so this will help you guys with your investigation. The only thing problem is that the place is heavily guarded and armed. They're equipped to take out any cops they see coming."

"...Then we're going to have to go in just as heavy," Chase said as he turned to the other pups. "H.A.V.O.C. Gear?"

"H.A.V.O.C. Gear." The others all agreed.


The Peking House of Peace.

One of the most exclusive hotels in Chinatown and Costal City. Despite being called a "V.I.P. Hotel," it looked more like a palace than anything. The yellow-golden lights hovered over the halo-shaped entrance, with a blue fountain spewing out pure water nearby that sparkled thanks to the lighting. Cars of various expenses, from limos to Ferraris, were seen parked into the lot by valets or driving in and out of the entrance as the owners wore expensive suits and dresses. The hotel was only seven stories high but was enormous in length. Almost twice the size of Mayor Goodway's building back at Adventure Bay.

It was here that, apparently, the Triad were conducting business here. Their hotel was a smokescreen for drugs, prostitutes, and guns. No doubt for the various wealthy clientele who were coming for a good time in more ways than one. While Zuma had yet to learn if this was connected to the Nikolai Brothers, he was willing to bet his old pup toys that the other gangs kept tabs on each other so he could find out one way or another. Even if he didn't, getting one group of rotten eggs off the street was still a bonus in his mind.

Zuma bit his lip as he observed the place from his hiding spot behind an ally. There was no way he could just enter that place as he was. He'd be thrown out as some vagabond wild dog on the streets in less than a second. Sneaking in was possible, but he saw multiple cameras and security walking around. That left him with little to no means to get inside. Zuma was starting to see the problems of working alone as he had been. If he had his team, the Paw Patrol, with him, they could quickly get in together. Chase could use his spy drone to spot the places where security was weakest. Skye could fly him, Rocky, and Marshall to the roof to get inside. Rocky could find a way to hack the security system while he and Marshall worked together to be stealthy to sneak inside. All while Rubble, being a construction Pup, could distract the owners by pretending to need their attention to a fake construction situation inside or outside the building that Ryder could fake with a few simple counterfeit documents.

...God, I miss them, Zuma whimpered as he closed his eyes and let a tear drop down. He missed his friends. His teammates. Rocky and Ryder, especially. He knew they were here, and some of him still wanted to go to them, but he couldn't. He wasn't the Zuma they knew. That Zuma died to make the current one the dog he was. A monster that could end up an even worse monster.

Shaking his head, Zuma tried to refocus himself. He needed a means to get inside the hotel. Thinking about "what ifs'' would not help him. Pretending to be staff? No. I don't have a uniform, and I don't even think they've got dog employees. Plus, I'm underage. Play the part of a lost puppy who lost their owner and try to appeal to sympathy to let me stay a bit so I can get my bearings? No, they might not let me in and have me watched even if they did. Climb up and search for an open window? Doesn't appear to be one, and I could get spotted doing so.

He really was up a creek here.

Then Zuma saw that the visitors' luggage was being piled up in a large bellman cart, and an idea came to him. He quickly mapped out several hiding places and darted behind various obstacles to ensure he wasn't seen. Bushes, cars, and even a light post or two before he was hiding in the plants next to the entrance. He waited for the current bellhop to bring a new bellman cart and started piling luggage until someone called for his help in carrying something. Seeing his chance, Zuma rushed over and looked for a big bag to take him. A green duffel bag looked good, and he opened the zipper to find it filled with socks and undergarments.

Jumping in, thankful for his size, Zuma dug deep into the large duffel bag and zipped the bag up while laying as still as possible, buried in the clothing. A few minutes later, the bellboy returned and started putting the luggage back on until he was done and carried it inside, where it was labeled and processed.

Zuma smirked as he felt his bag getting carried off. He was in.

But that was the easy part. The next part was going to be even harder.


Antipov Anatolievich wouldn't say he was surprised with how his life turned out. His father had worked in the mob world, and so did his father. It was a family history that went back all the way to the days when the Soviets were in power back at home. Antipov, however, wanted to be something other than just a regular mob worker in Moscow. He tried to make it big in the U.S. and be something more than a low-level grunt. And so far, he had succeeded in doing just that. While he wasn't as high up as he wished, being second in command of a local gunsmithing operation hideout was better than he had back home.

Most gun making that was done illegally was often made in the basements of downtrodden homes or in the back of the woods in sheds where there was privacy. They, however, were lucky enough to have an abandoned factory to do their work, and cops in the area were paid off to not ask questions. Having a larger area with working machines made the guns easier and better, which meant more money for them in the long run. He didn't know how the bosses managed to get settled with such a good find, but apparently, it was part of the deal they made with Damian Stone.

Antipov shivered upon thinking of that name and rubbed his pendant of Saint Nicholas. Antipov had seen crazy madmen before in Moscow, but Damian had the aura of a devil. He only saw him once and lit three candles at his Orthodox Church afterward.

Looking over at the crude assembly line of workers making the guns from the top level's railing, Antipov decided to get a smoke in for a break as he walked over to a nearby window, opened it, and lit a puff. He took a nice whiff before closing his eyes to let the night breeze wave over his face. The calmness of the sounds of the city night was like music to him. Though there was a new one to it. Sounded like something streaking in the air.

He opened his eyes only to see a bunch of miniature missiles heading for him.

"...дерьмо."


Skye watched as her missiles made an impact inside the building, which caused a series of explosions to go off thanks to the munitions and gunpowder stored inside. She looked down and saw the guards scattered around the outside of the building getting sniped by Rocky from a building further down while Chase and Rubble, in their H.A.V.O.C. armor, burst through the gates and started mowing down the front line of guards.

Chase's Gatling gun tore them to shreds while Rubble unleashed his grenade laughter on the vehicles to prevent them from escaping. They tried to fire back, but their armor was built to handle practically anything up to a .50 cal. Chase then unleashed a new weapon that Ryder had built into his armor, unleashing mini-spy drones that flew around and started zapping the guards that stunned them with sticky shooters. They figured they needed a few alive ones for interrogation, and Chase had made sure the shooters were set to make them paralyzed for a few hours. Long enough for the police to get here and properly cuff them.

"Rocky, are you sure we don't have to worry about reinforcements?" Skye asked on the radio.

"Positive. Thanks to the long-range hacking program in my H.A.V.O.C. suit, I already hacked into their system and the local communication towers. Their signals are going nowhere, and I'm already locking the access to their heavy armory while checking them out on cameras," Rocky answered. "Ryder? Have I ever told you how much of a scary genius you are? And how glad I am that you aren't a supervillain?"

Skye couldn't help but imagine an evil version of Ryder trying to take over the world with his inventions, like Doctor Doom. Speaking of Ryder, he zoomed over to her in the air, wielding what would only be described as an Iron Man rip-off suit. Ryder, naturally, had his own H.A.V.O.C. armored suit that was designed to be fully armored, in Paw Patrol red and blue colors, with multiple abilities, including pulse lasers, mini-missiles, hacking software, lasers, and various means of trapping enemies. With a holographic visor on display, Ryder smiled at Skye. "Good thing I like superheroes more than supervillains."

"Marshall here. I'm entering the main building. It's got a big fire going that will need to be contained after this so it doesn't spread. I'm guiding the survivors out right now," Marshall said on the radio.

"They're not giving you any trouble?" Chase asked.

"Considering they're surrounded by fire, and I got a flamethrower, I think they know when it's time to give up for their own survival's sake," Marshall answered.

"Looks like this is going to be over soon," Ryder said as police, firefighters, and E.M.T.s started arriving from the streets. "Hopefully, Fat Tuán will keep his end of the deal."

"No need to worry, Ryder. Fat Tuán just got back to me. He says he saw the whole thing on the news," Sergeant Quản said on the radio channel they had given him access to. "He says good work and is willing to honor his deal. He says you can find Yùshé at one of their top establishments: The Peking House of Peace."

"What is it?" Ryder asked.

"In public? It's a very exclusive and high-class V.I.P. hotel and service establishment. In truth? It's a giant den of drugs, prostitutes, and gun sales for the rich and powerful in the city and from outside of it. We've had no success getting anyone inside the place undercover as staff or as a guest. They practically keep tabs on anyone inside the city."

That presented a problem. Ryder and the rest of the Pups were already known, so getting them inside would take a lot of work. Plus, they didn't have probable cause to invade the hotel, so it would only cause a problem if they did. However, Skye could see the gears turning in Ryder's head and relaxed, knowing he had a plan.

"I got an idea. Just gotta make two calls," Ryder said as he accessed the radio to call two people that Skye wondered who they would be.

A few minutes later, she was surprised to see who it was.

"Ryder? What's going on? Aren't you still in Costal City?" Katie asked all the way from Adventure Bay.

"Ryder? Oh, hello. I wasn't expecting to hear from you," Mayor Goodway said on the line as well.

"Katie? Mayor Goodway? We need your help with something. It's kind of a rush job, and it's going to be dangerous, but we really could use your help," Ryder asked with hope. "I understand if you don't want to be involved."

"Does it have to do with finding Zuma and bringing him home?" Katie asked with worry.

"Or dealing with that utter bastard Damian Stone?" Mayor Goodway asked with utter hatred in her tone. This surprised Skye since the Mayor was always kindhearted, if a bit stern with those who broke the rules or acted naughty like Mayor Humdinger.

"Both, actually," Ryder answered.

"Then count me in," Katie said without hesitation.

"Me too!" Mayor Goodway declared.

"Great! Mayor! I need you to make a reservation for you, Chicaletta, and your dog for a stay at the Peking House of Peace in Costal City," Ryder explained with a smile. "Kaite? I need you to bring your best grooming kit and some fur dye. We're going to wash and disguise a pup."

"...Please tell me that pup who's going to get a bath isn't me?" Rocky asked on the radio.

Ryder chuckled nervously. "Well..."

"Damnit..."


Zuma grunted as the bellhop tossed the duffel bag he was hiding onto the bed while the owner paid them their tip. He felt like he was going to need a massage after all this. Thankfully, the luggage owner had decided to leave for the hotel bar, which left Zuma free to get out of the duffle bag and onto the bed. Putting the stuff back in and sealing it, Zuma looked around and couldn't help but admire the golden-style decorations that made one feel like they were a mix of Western and Eastern styles for noble hospitality.

Okay, I'm inside, Zuma thought before sighing. So now what?

Getting inside was one thing. Finding what Zuma was looking for was another. It wasn't like he could just ask one of the staff where anything illegal was being done.

"I really need to plan these things better. I'm too used to Ryder doing this," Zuma grumbled as he tried to think of something. He figured if anything was going to be illegal, it would most likely be in the basement. "Better than nothing."

Taking a deep breath, Zuma headed over to the door and carefully opened it. After making sure he was clear in the hallway, Zuma went to look for an elevator as quickly as possible. He was about to turn the hallway upon finding a sign that said where it was only to reverse and press his back against the wall. He poked his head around the corner and saw an interesting site. A yellow cat dressed in a black snake collar with jade snakes was surrounded by four armed bodyguards in suits. Zuma raised an eyebrow. What kind of cat needed that much protection?

Someone important.

He watched as they talked in Chinese for a bit before one of the bodyguards pressed the button for down, but he pushed it four times for some reason. The elevator appeared soon after, and the group entered before the doors closed. Suspecting that there was something suspicious about pressing the button several times. Zuma walked over to the nearby elevator and pressed the down button four times.

The elevator appeared two minutes later, and he walked inside, waiting for it to descend. It did so, but to his surprise, it went past the lobby and the basement to a level not seen on the list of options.

Zuma didn't know why, but he felt he was heading into a dragon's den and prepared himself for whatever was coming his way.


TRANSLATION:

дерьмо = Shit