The one saving grace of this infernal town, the only thing preventing them from being written off as completely hopeless; there were some within the PAW Patrol's shadow Rocky felt weren't entirely led like chess pieces. Some -thank the lords above- actually operated more independently from the patrol, especially the extended PAW Patrol members across the world. Tuck had been one of them, not an adversary but neither an ally, a cautious offering of alliance swiftly denied. Having collided with another dead end in his investigations, Rocky abandoned his course of action for today and went home.

Despite all the shortcomings and broken friendships, there was still one animal willing to preserve their friendship. It felt ironic to him that the one saving grace to pull him out of his funk, the paw that pulled from the darkness and gave him a place to stay, wasn't a dog at all.

It was a cat.

"Hey I'm gonna order takeout," Wild peeked his orange and white head into the room. "You want Gavyn's Diner, or Pawstars?"

"Pawstars gives me stomach aches," Rocky said, finally averting his gaze from the hypnotic evidence wall. "I think it's the weird sauce they use, go for Gavyn's."

He was seated in the dusty, aged guest room once belonging to Wild's roommate. It was since abandoned when they moved out, quickly transitioning into a storage room Wild could shove his old racing gear into. Once Rocky phoned him a late evening in the death of a thunderstorm, groaning desperate pleas through the line, Wild braved the rain and ventured out to rescue his old friend. Now he stayed in the old storage room, much of the boxed equipment moved aside to expose a clear path to the bed. As a puppy, Rocky would've seen the worn carpet, peeling walls, and oaky smell of the apartment and written it off as a homeless den.

Only now he was a squatter, sleeping every night and eating every meal eternally grateful for Wild's friendship.

His dark thoughts would follow him everywhere, however, and he quickly chose a wall of the room and created somewhat of a depressing bulletin board. Photos of various PAW Patrol members, documented 'evidence' tacked on, and red string to connect it all with the freedom of an insanity-driven mind. A connect-the-dots puzzle Rocky knew he was missing pieces to, always on the verge of tearing his own fur out hunting for something to bring the patrol's madness to light.

"Italian food it is, then," Wild nodded. "Hey, how'd the meeting with Tuck go?"

Rocky's mood quickly fell, a shove of disdain weighing him to the floor. "The same as Ella's, Everest's, and Liberty's, at least he bought me lunch. No one believes me, and even if they potentially could, none of them are willing to cross the PAW Patrol."

"You say it like they're some mob controlling the town," Wild entered the room, walking up behind him.

"I wouldn't put that past them."

"They can do good, and they have before," said the cat, stopping to groom his tail. "Without Rubble advocating for better animal living, I wouldn't have this apartment."

Hard to argue with that, but Rocky couldn't help himself. "You don't think it's weird a construction dog had such close ties with Mayor Goodway? There wasn't even a trial campaign, it just... happened."

"Who knows? Maybe Rubble is better friends with her than we thought," came Wild's dismissive meow."

"Or... he ordered her to make it happen."

"Wh- but why would she listen, though?" Wild flattened his ears, struggling to understand the lunacy he was hearing. "A bulldog strolls into City Hall, orders the mayor to put thousands of dollars into animal living and she just... listens? That doesn't sound insane to you?"

"Everything's insane to me at this point, I'm just trying to make sense of it all."

Placing his paw on his friend's back, perturbed at the madness but still fighting to see past it all. Rocky was broken, Wild saw no value clawing at the impossible and just wanted to help the dog find peace with himself.

"I know you don't believe me," Rocky said, an absent resignation in his voice. "You never have."

I 'believe' that you aren't entirely incorrect," said the cat with a soft tone of voice. "Anyone can grow arrogant with power like theirs but labeling them as psychopaths is... a stretch."

"I thought that too, once," the mixed breed absently trudged to his dog bed. "Yet look where I am now."

The cat watched his solemn movements, his slitted eyes softening with the pitiful state the dog was in. "I know how it feels to be outcasted, you know."

"I know you do, that's why I stopped complaining to you so much," Rocky kneaded the sizable pillow, then turned around a few times before settling down. "Hey, thanks for... letting me stay here."

"Anytime," Wild said, purring warmly. "My place is yours; and I owe you, don't I?"

"I guess it's a relief not everyone hates me. Even when the oh-so-perfect PAW Patrol says otherwise, there's still sensible animals who see through their lunacy."

"Funny you say that," came Wild's joking reply, gracefully bounding across the room to him. "Because us cats are quite sophisticated compared to dogs... no offense. Of course you'd have a friend in me, any good cat would roll their eyes at those egotists."

Rocky felt his mood begin to lift, "sophisticated indeed... until you violently puke your own fur."

"That's an involuntary reflex and you know it," Wild flattened his ears, pretending to be offended despite the chirp in his voice. "At least we don't eat our own feces and bark at every blade of grass we don't recognize."

"For your information," the grey dog picked his head up. "Grass is hella suspicious."

It was then the two broke into a giddy laughter, the worries of reality briefly lost. It was these little moments they treasured greatly, no matter how quickly they flicked by.

The home they shared was rather desolate compared to the more attractive locations in Adventure Bay, especially the towering fortress up the hill. As the PAW Patrol grew and expanded, their main hub of operations, the Lookout, did as well. With Rubble's constructive friends and abilities, substantial growth could be observed from afar as the place went under renovations. Their usual mission briefing room quickly prospered to an impressively stable with six chairs at the edges, a crowning seventh seat at the very end. Sitting in a humble little line was for puppies, they needed something bigger, a greater display of resolve and authority.

Such a powerful throne, even if it was just slightly more decorated leather. Chase always eyed it upon entering the room; his optimism followed him everywhere, but faint twitches were barely visible whenever he sat alongside his coworkers.

It was Ryder's seat, the leader of the squad, the supposed backbone of their operations. Despite the years going on, Ryder was technically -and legally- still a minor. Humans aged a lot slower than dogs; the whole patrol had grown into hardy, adult animals yet their "leader" remained practically a child. No one dared to mock him behind his back for it, everyone except Chase.

The six stormed into the room and took their places at the table. None of the chairs were assigned to anyone, but they all unanimously claimed their spots on the first day, never switching it up since the room was built. Chase surveyed his static glare across the attendees then back to the leader. "Ready for action... Ryder sir." A line he usually said with a more chipper attitude, since diminished along with his childhood years.

"Thanks for hurrying pups," Ryder jumped into his main chair, letting it spin around for a few seconds before propping his boots up on the table. "Just wanted to say, fantastic job in our recent string of rescues," he said, putting his hands together and looking over each smiling face. "Chase, you had two this week, and where are you on that murdered dog downtown?"

"Working on it," the shepherd wagged his tail. "Still phoning possible suspects, I'll bring someone in eventually."

Ryder made finger-guns at him, "good to know we can always count on you. Zuma, great work saving those divers the other day, the guy left an online review and your popularity skyrocketed. You're many savior points ahead now, a perfect comeback from last week."

Those golden words, more potent than any drug the Labrador could possibly enslave himself to. "That old job? Pfft, it was nothing," Zuma leaned back, glowing with grinning pride. "I serve the people, and their appreciation is all the thanks I need."

"Cough, cocksucker," Chase abruptly cleared his voice.

"What?"

"Oh nothing," the shepherd smiled, itching himself with his leg. "Sorry, there was something in my throat there."

Ryder continued, "Marshall, excellent job handling the fire, you're officially in third place with savior points, so last place is now-"

"Me," said Skye grimly, a small avian-trained cockapoo. "Guess I need to step things up a notch... great," she immediately shot her paw in Chase's direction. "Don't you dare say a word."

Chase looked behind him, pulling a puzzled expression that was notoriously difficult to convince with the grin on his muzzle. "Say what? I wasn't gonna say anything, don't you go accusing me now."

"Please, I know you were gonna make some snide remark, don't you deny it."

"You wound me, Skye," Chase leaned his chin on the table, fluttering his eyes at the flustered dog. "I get you're desperate to impress me, but there's plenty of others here willing to give you feedback."

"I- I wasn't-" she turned red, spluttering her words.

"Anyhoooo..." he cut her off, turning back to Ryder. "Where am I on the scoreboard?"

"In the lead, as always," Ryder shrugged with a half-hearted expression. "You know Chase, you don't need to put yourself out there that much, there's nothing wrong with letting someone else take the helm."

What in the living hell did he just say? Chase's claws flexed in the table, a brief slip of his composure he recovered from in a millisecond. "What? We... we don't need that," he said, laughing off the feeling of his blood boiling. "Come on guys, I'm sure you all don't mind having a... standard, to look up to.

He sharply continued before anyone could reply, "but if you guys are really so desperate to see someone else on the pedestal." He pointed at the only other German shepherd in the room. "I'm sure Valor is a worthy suggestion."

The field technician had been quiet so far, a notable trait of his. His eyes flicked to every patrol member as they spoke, watching their words and letting them ramble on. Once Chase pointed him out, the sharpened dog pulled a subtle grin and shrugged. "I wouldn't be completely opposed to such a nomination," he said, stopping to groom his paw.

"You always suggest him, though," Skye said with a narrowed voice. "You did it last week, and the week before that."

A bulldog in the last chair picked his head, "uh... guys? I'm here too you know, does anyone realize I'm talking?"

"Shut up Rubble, we'll call you when a building collapses or something," Chase shot him down quickly.

"Hey now, this isn't about inclusion," Ryder felt the need to speak up. "Actually no, I could have worded that better. What I mean is, this is about keeping ourselves good with the people. If they love Valor, then it's more savior points for us."

Skye broadened her voice by a notch, trying to wrestle the conversation from Chase's paws. "Then why not send Valor with me, or Marshall, Zuma even? Let the people see their favorite, and a different dog beside him for a change. Because everytime he goes anywhere, it's with Chase."

"Hey, we're a pretty beneficial pair, Chase and I," Valor put his paws together. "Our partnership could move mountains, the town practically worships us. By the decision of the team, both of us can be positioned for nightly patrol of the town. "

"Oh really, the team's making decisions now? It's not just the two of you?" Skye dared to let a growl slip through her teeth. "I could've sworn we were in this together."

"We are," Chase smiled at her. "But some of us are a little more enjoyed than others."

Ryder could see them on the verge of snarling at each other, prompting him to put his feet down and lean forward in the chair. "Okay, everyone... just cool it. Marshall and Rubble will stand by for any emergencies, Zuma can make his commercial, Skye goes on aerial watch, and Chase and Valor can take patrol."

The cockapoo slouched in her chair, huffing with agitation. "Unbelievable."

"Brilliant decision, has the potential to be your best yet," Chase could've been clapping with glee if his paws weren't firmly on the table. "Adventure Bay is in safe paws."

The meeting was left adjourned, the two shepherds having the last words as usual. Tension was circulating the room, most seemed to just hunt for a quick way out before things got ugly. Rubble and Zuma left together, nothing too special to some, a cowardly gesture to Chase. Always quick to skip the confrontation, it was just like them. Valor leaned in to Chase and whispered a few words, a private exchange Skye looked over her shoulder at. What were they, conspirers?

The two shepherds nodded and went their separate ways, Valor being the third to leave the room. Once Ryder walked out, Skye firmly turned back to her current target, baring her tiny teeth. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Mine?" Chase barely tilted his head, immeasurable boredom in his eyes. "Not sure what you're yapping about, almost had you for a chihuahua."

Her fur standing on end, Skye walked straight up on the larger dog. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but it's seriously pissing me off. Whatever happened to us being a team?"

"I never said anything like that, but you know what I find interesting?" He raised an eyebrow down at her, picking up his paw. "When we were puppies, you and I were the same height, weren't we? But time goes on, and I've substantially grown to a handsome size," he placed his paw on her head. "And you're still a tiny little cockapoo."

Snarling through her teeth, Skye slapped his arm off her. "Fuck off, Chase." His carelessness made her skin crawl, flushing her fur red as she promptly stopped out of the room. The shepherd only rolled his eyes, choosing to spare her just this once for throwing profanity around. If she wasn't of high importance to the PAW Patrol, he would've already had her corpse through the wall for saying that to his face.

"Oh, Marshall," Chase called to the spotted dog joining the leave. "Can we talk?"

"Hm?" the firefighter looked back at him with hopeless innocence. "Yeah sure, what's up?"

Waiting for everyone else to leave, Chase motioned for him to sit back down.

They both returned to the table, but Chase notably avoided his earlier seat, instead walking to the front. He climbed up on Ryder's chair -no, his throne, Chase reminded himself- and looked down upon his spotted coworker. The shepherd stared at him with an unflinching smile, warm and gentle as the day he first opened his eyes. "You're getting really fuckin' sloppy, you know that?"

The Dalmatian's own smile fell with confusion, "w-what... do you mean?"

Standing up from the table with the calmest of motions, Chase walked to his coworker with a piercing, burning stare, yet his innocent grin never slipped. "That little display you decided to put on downtown, some piss-ant managed to record you starting it. Did you know about that?"

"I..." Marshall wavered in his voice, his demeanor slowly dropping the closer Chase got. "I didn't. How much does it incriminate me?"

The shepherd lowered his voice to an emotionless, almost seductive whisper. "I didn't watch it myself, but from the sound of it she recorded every. Little. Black spot... on your little body." He hissed the words off his tongue, a faint twitch nearly breaking his smile. "So... what exactly possessed you to be so reckless?"

"I was just staging another fire; I didn't know she was there!"

"What, you just weren't thinking? Weren't being smart?" Chase drilled him through gritted teeth. "You just decided you could do whatever you please without consequence? You know we have an image to uphold here."

"Chase, I-"

"Picture this," he swung his arm around Marshall, harshly pulling him in and squeezing the sides of their faces together. "you're peacefully sitting in your kennel; no worries, no distractions, enjoying everything your way. Getting to be yourself, free from the public eye, doesn't that sound nice?"

He continued before the firefighter could say anything, "but then... you get a little phone call from some... mewling pest downtown. You learn... one of your subordinates has uh... gone a little off the rails and left a pretty big mess that will get out of hand if someone doesn't clean it quickly."

"This isn't the first time we've had this discussion, but it better be the last. If I get another little call from some... insect," the shepherd growled the vile nickname. "Catching you in the act again, and I have to go back down there and waste my time getting my paws dirty... we're going to have problems."

"We won't, alright?" Marshall leaned back slightly, fidgeting at the officer's close presence. "I'll be more careful, geez. And why can't you just let me handle these things?"

"Because you have an annoying little itch to always be as dramatic as physically possible. You and your little obsession," his voice beamed with false excitement, like someone trying to hype up a toddler. "Nothing is ever subtle with you, never precise. That's where I have to come in. Now clean up your act, got it?"

Flicking his gaze at the door, the Dalmatian nodded. "Yeah... I will."

The shepherd completely shifted his tone, pulling an elated smile, and frolicking behind him. "See? There we go, aren't we the best of friends, you and I?" He put his paws on Marshall's shoulders, massaging them gently, only to suddenly shove him out of the chair. "Now get out there and save some lives... you fuckin' arsonist."

Picking his sore body off the floor from where he was shoved, Marshall forced a beat of nervous laughter in response, before shuffling out of the room. Nothing but insubordination, Chase walked to the window to meet his questioning reflection. A beautiful sight laid before him, not the outdoors, but himself. Always himself, the very foundation of this fragile daycare of idiot canines who couldn't control their urges. Perhaps he was the only one who truly grew up among his friends, a pristine carving of true animal, and the others were just dead weight.

Except one, at least.

Activating his radio collar, Chase phoned a rather special member of his team. "Valor, everyone's gone, you can come back now. We have work to do..."