Waiting for them at the door, Rocky tilted his head at the incoming pair. "So, how'd it go?"

Before Chase could answer, Rubble abruptly pushed past him. "It went... perfectly fine. Until this dildo forgot to bring money, so we couldn't buy anything."

"Oh excuse me-" the shepherd caught up, flattening his ears. "Usually I just take Ryder's credit cards, but he's not here! You can't expect me to remember these things all the time!"

"Ugh, I knew you'd fail," Rocky put a paw to his face. "But then again, so did we, so nothing was really accomplished."

"I think we're taking this too fast, why don't we just relax for a while?" Chase offered with an open arm. "Ryder can fix the screens anyway, let's go play Pup Pup Boogie."

Rubble walked right past everyone, setting off for his kennel with a saggy expression. "You guys enjoy that, I'm going to bed." He disappeared into his yellow den, desperate to forget the memories of the day.

The pups -minus Rubble- met up in the Lookout tower, coming together in the room they shared with the flaming kitchen actively melting. Chase stepped over a minefield of broken glass and a weird glue-sculpture of screen pieces embedded into the floor, pondering how in the world they screwed up such a simple task. He, after all, had everything going smoothly with Rubble, even if they didn't have money. Sure they failed, but it wasn't a total failure in Chase's book. Skye and Marshall had a whole snack trough set up by the kitchen fire, cooking their favorite treats under the heat for later.

"So... what happened exactly?" Rocky jumped up on the couch, laying on his side.

Chase proudly puffed his chest, "took a joyride to Malmart, went straight to the screens, but ah... forgot I didn't have Ryder's card. We left swiftly."

"Really? That's all you did?"

"Yup, a near flawless mission."

Zuma approached him with a knowing grin, "Chase... your paws are red."

"Are they?" the shepherd held out his foot, looking at his bright red pads. "I thought the floor felt sticky, wonder what-"

Raising an eyebrow, Zuma unexpectedly took Chase's paw on his own and -while maintaining full eye contact- slowly ran his tongue over the underside of Chase's paw. "Mmh... did you walk in cherry juice? Don't worry, I'll get it off."

No immediate response from the shepherd, Chase had frozen and turned so vibrantly red it camouflaged the cherry stains. He looked incredulously at the Labrador with widened disbelief, contemplating how in the world that even happened.

"What exactly did you do to Malmart?" Rocky cocked his head, already dreading the answer.

"We... went in there," Chase stammered, fidgeting under Zuma's wet tongue cleaning the cherry off his paws. "Went straight to the TVs, I swear."

"God, I don't even wanna know. Let's just play our game... hey why is it always Pup Pup Boogie anyway?" He slouched back, getting more comfortable, "don't we have other games?"

Zuma paused his cleaning, "we do, but a lot of them are single player, and others are just... not fun to begin with."

"What about Pup Sports?" Chase brightened up. "I always play that when I need exercise."

Rocky shrugged, crossing his paws on the couch. "Those games are so easy though; they're marketed to get people up and moving, but the reality is, just shaking the remote will win most of the games."

"What? That's not true," said Chase, turning at him. "I play Pup Tennis all the time, you gotta turn your whole body into the swing."

"No... you don't?" the mix gave him a weird look. "You just need to shake the controller, it's not that complex."

"Okay sure, you can just shake it, but that's for simpletons," said the shepherd, swapping to the other paw for Zuma. "They're a lot more fun if you actually put real effort, and you win a whole lot easier." Pup Sports was one of Chase's favorite games, and he wasn't about to let his friend downplay the intensity of the game. "There's no value in just sitting and... moving your arms around."

Rocky gave a harmless shrug, "didn't say there was. I'm just stating, it's a way you can play the game, and you can win just as easily. There's not really a difference."

"Oh yeah? Well how about we make a little bet?" Chase dug through the video game basket, producing two gaming remotes. He tossed one to Rocky, who flawlessly caught it with one paw. "You and I... are gonna play Pup Tennis," he said, grinning at the mixed breed. "I'm gonna use my full range of motion and... perfect physical conditioning. While you can... sit on the couch and shake your paw or whatever. Whoever wins, will be crowned Best Dog for a solid week!"

Rocky tilted his head, a glint of interest in his eyes. "You sure you wanna make that bet?"

"What's wrong, mutt? Scared?"

Marshall looked up from his food, "easy Chase, Rocky's kinda right. You don't need a whole lot to win those motion games."

"Oh really? I see he's got to you too," Chase brushed off the Dalmatian's words. "Now turn on the console."

Skye tilted her head, "I thought our TV was broken."

"Our mission TV, poos, our gaming TV is always safely protected under lock and key."

The small dog's fur stood up like needles, "I told you never to call me that again-" Her words fell on deaf ears as Chase swiftly opened a small closet, rolling out a spare flat-screen television for their gaming sessions.

Clicking it on, the screen flashed to life as Pup Sports was loaded in. A nostalgic jingle played as the title card danced on the screen, beginning its famous theme music that the pups couldn't help slightly swaying to. It was a classic, packaged for free in every canine console setup to be enjoyed. Five sports were housed in its digital, vibrant world, but Pup Tennis was the main attraction for the mid-afternoon. Foreseeing great entertainment, Marshall brought some popcorn bags over to the lethal kitchen fire, nudging the packages next to the blazing inferno. The typhoon of flame had grown so violent and hot, the floor around it was starting to absorb heat once most flammable materials were devoured. Initially contained within the kitchen, anger lashed through the licks of flame, hot enough to project its heat at a greater radius. The fire refused to calm itself as long as the stove remained on, demanding more kindling be fed to it before threatening to consume the entire tower.

Chase was already moving, almost dancing in place holding the controller. His voice brimmed with anticipation, revving himself up like he was about to dive into a football game. "Alright alright, in it to win it!"

Watching him boredly from the couch, Rocky sighed and held up his controller, completely still in a relaxed pose.

"Alright, team Chase, who's in it?" the shepherd called to the audience, only to realize with a frown that literally no one was standing on his side. The three bystanders shifted over to Rocky's couch, taking their places next to him.

"Wha- Zuma, you're not on my side?" he said with genuine hurt, spotting the Labrador sitting next to Rocky.

The coast guard shrugged apathetically, "I mean... he's kinda right. I suggest you back down before you embarrass yourself."

"I'm not going to embarrass myself! I'm gonna leave him in the dirt, and you're all gonna feel unequivocally silly!"

A small laugh with the only response, the Labrador leaning on his paw. "Chase, hun, just let it go."

Marshall slowly looked at Zuma with a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't-" Chase bared his teeth, trying to hide the red in his fur. "Wha- whatever! I'll show you all!"

Rolling his eyes, Rocky got himself comfortable on the couch and held up his controller. "I'm sure you will, now start the game."

Never before had the entire PAW Patrol gathered for something as mundane as an old sports game. They rarely all played at once, let alone sat nearby to watch each other, but this was clearly a momentous occasion not to be missed. Chase took a powerful stance on the floor with all four paws, gritting his teeth with hardened resolve as if he were being sent off to war. In stark contrast to his determination, Rocky hadn't even moved from the couch, sitting with Zuma and Marshall who could nearly smell an amazing show incoming.

The game started with flying colors; and right away their main argument was exposed clear as day. The little game characters with their tiny tennis rackets scurried around the field hitting the ball back and forth, simple and deliberate actions compared to the mayhem brewing outside of the game. Chase was already sweating, hopping around the room and swinging his controller arm madly, committing every fiber of his being into the motion. Perched calmly on the sofa still laid Rocky, trying his hardest not to laugh while returning every ball with a simple flick of the wrist.

It went on for a while, points scored at both sides, the tension was building faster than the kitchen fire could roast the plaster in the walls.

"Chase, just forfeit," Zuma called to him with an endeared expression. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"Shut up Lab!" the shepherd barked into the air, swinging his controller so violently it nearly popped his arm out of socket.

Rocky flicked his wrist, returning Chase's serve flawlessly.

"Aaaahhh!" Chase roared in fury and tried to hit back, only to realize the controller was no longer around his paw. His expression reared with horror; did it slip off mid-swing? "Hey- where's my-"

A sickened gurgling could be heard from Skye's corner; everyone turned to see the teary-eyed dog choking on the game remote lodged in her throat. "Ghk- ack! Gh-ghk-" She was only a tragic bystander, caught in the line of fire when Chase's remote slipped off and shot with flaming velocity directly into her mouth.

"Damn it Skye, give it back! Rocky's gonna win!"

"Ghrrk-" she fell to her knees, fighting against the blunt object shoved down her windpipe. "Hrr- gk!" Her choking ceased, and the small dog erupted into a storm of coughs, gasping for air. "I- I think I swallowed it!"

Marshall yelled into the air, "Heimlich maneuver!"

"Screw it, no time!" Chase jumped at Skye and grabbed her by the legs. "I don't need the buttons, it's all motion controls!"

"Wha- aah! Aaahhh!" Skye cried as she was lifted into the air, flailing her arms as she took the new role of a living remote controller.

Her entire body was jerked in a wide arc, perfectly enough motion to still play the game. "Desperate measures! Hraahhh!" Chase roared in furious passion, swinging Skye like a tennis racket.

The game continued in primed insanity, Zuma and Marshall watching slack-jawed in awe at the scene unfolding before him. Chase was nearly devolving in feral canine instinct, running like a snarling animal and swinging his terrified living racket. "Hrraaaahhhhh!" came his raging ferocity, twirling Skye's body in wide arcs.

"Dude, chill," Rocky said to him, perfectly returning another ball.

"Nyahhh!" Chase flung Skye into the air, jumped up, caught her, twirled several times, and followed through with a finishing heavy swing, channeling all the power he had into the return serve.

Rocky returned it flawlessly without breaking a sweat.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Rubble heard the insane battle cries from outside and entered the tower in confusion. He walked out in front of the TV, a puzzled expression on his face. "Hey guys, what's-"

Roaring out a snarling war cry, Chase ferally lunged wielding Skye's body like a battleaxe. He swung her in a wide arc, too lost in bloodlust to see Rubble in the crossfire. The bulldog took the full impact of a cockapoo, slamming him into the gaming TV in crashing splendor. A glorious crack formed in the screen as Rubble tumbled to the floor, completely knocked out.

"It's okay, the TV still works!" Chase said fiercely, standing on his hind legs with Skye's body firmly gripped.

"Put me down!" she cried.

"Not a chance, I'm winning this no matter what!"

"I'm bouta' end your whole career, Chase," Rocky said with a laugh, barely having moved a single muscle in that entire moment.

The ensuing mayhem was palpable with noise, Skye's screaming body was only a blur in the air as Chase sporadically flailed her, the remote in her stomach still miraculously worked. Entranced by the raging back-and-forth to end all duels between dogs, everyone went silent as to not break the players' focus. Chase was -for some reason- audibly grunting with every swing, like actual physical effort was being siphoned from his body. It started as genuine grunts, until they dramatically increased in volume in intensity for no reason at all. By the seventh minute, Chase was just yelling for no reason at that point. Consumed by madness, the shepherd furiously returned every swing, heaving the digital ball of pixels, across the green environment. His effort was undone immediately, Rocky flicking his arm with little to no movement.

"Wh- no! Get the- get the ball!" Chase furiously shook Skye's body, swinging her in all directions like he was trying to kill a fly. Beside Marshall's confused screaming, Rocky boredly continued flicking his wrist, perfectly matching all of Chase's actions.

"Final point!" Marshall shouted into the chaos.

"Nooo!" the shepherd dove forward with every spark of fury in his body, holding Skye over his head like he was about to execute someone with her.

Rocky flicked his controller, eating popcorn with his free paw.

Time slowed with beating pressure, all pairs of eyes on the TV with pounding hearts. The digital tennis ball was flawlessly hit back, landing on Chase's side with all the world hanging in the balance, they had tied all the way until the end. One point was all that remained to decide the weekly Best Dog. It was gonna be close, everyone leaned forward in boiling anticipation, Marshall swiped another popcorn bag through the kitchen fire and relentlessly chomped on it. Rocky squinted his eyes, Zuma watched awestruck, Skye screamed uncontrollably, Marshall who was also screaming for some reason, and Rubble who twitched unconsciously on the floor.

Silence was history under their uproar, everything happened at once; Marshall flinging an explosion of popcorn, Zuma erupting in ecstatic celebration, and Skye's body slamming into the TV screen with such extreme prejudice she bounced off the wreckage and joined Rubble on the floor. Popcorn rained like confetti all around the tower, decorating the celebrating dogs with corn crowns and turning the floor into a crunchy, buttery mess.

"Fuck!" Chase snarled for all the world to hear, his entire body flaring with rage.

"Oh, how about that?" Rocky stood up, not wanting to boast but his wide smile was increasingly potent. "I won... with the flick of my wrist."

Chase didn't respond, pouting with a darkened expression.

"Don't get too beat up on that, officer," said the mix with a smug expression. "You win some, you lose some. Part of life, you know."

"Whatever," the shepherd grumbled in response. "I'm gonna go eat something." Unceremoniously kicking the flaming debris left from the kitchen fire in rage, he stomped off to the elevator in a flustered trip to recover his dignity. Thinking for a moment, Zuma got up from the couch and followed him, leaving the rest of the squad to celebrate.

"Booyah!" Marshall jumped into a leaf pile of popcorn, bursting out at the top. "That was awesome!"

Skye faintly twitched on the floor, lying next to Rumble in an awkward, crumpled face-planted heap. The nudge of her tail was -probably- an attempt to communicate her shared feelings of victory, but no one else spoke the language of being sprawled out on the floor. They were fine, Rocky was sure of it, they'd be up and running by tomorrow. Preening himself with glowing accomplishment, the mix stretched and laid down on his side, eager to achieve his postgame nap.

"Gosh, what a fun day this is!" Marshall's voice slapped him awake. "What other cool stuff do you think will happen today?"

Turning on his other side and suppressing the ringing in his ear, Rocky rested himself on his paws. "Hard to say, we still have a broken mission TV that... I guess no one really managed to fix, and the kitchen fire seems a little concerning. The sun is going down though, Ryder will be back soon."

"I can't wait to tell him everything we did!"

Thinking ahead of the future scene of Ryder's return, Rocky was uncertain of their owner's reaction, but surely it wouldn't be too bad. It wasn't like they killed anyone, and screens could be replaced so really no harm was done. By all technicality, nothing wrong had even happened today; Rocky nodded, satisfied at the logic. As long as Chase didn't destroy anything else today, they could lie low and wait for the owner's return.

"Do you ever get tired?" Rocky asked, letting a yawn come out his jaw.

"Ha! Nope," Marshall puffed his chest, wagging his tail gleefully. "I'd actually like to play more Pup Sports, if it wasn't... you know." He pointed his paw at the game console, which had spontaneously caught fire from the sheer intensity of the earlier game. "I'm sure Ryder will get us a new one."

"What's he even doing in the mountains anyway? He never specified in the note what it was."

Marshall hopped up on the couch, laying down beside his friend. "Maybe he just wants to hang out with Jake and get away from us for a while. I wouldn't blame him; we can be a handful sometimes."

"You and Everest still a thing?"

"Eh... on and off," Marshall said, laughing nervously. "It kinda... varies."

"Don't you think you're a little too young to be dating?"

"Probably," the Dalmatian shrugged. "But we gotta try sometime, and Chase has someone... I think."

"He does?" Rocky sat up suddenly, staring at him.

"I think so, he's on his pup-pad a lot, and it's never mobile games like Rubble. He's always... messaging someone. I looked over his shoulder once; whoever it is, he has them under a generic nickname, so I couldn't draw anything from that."

"Hm, well good for him," the mixed breed shrugged. "Hard to believe that insane idiot has someone actually willing to care that way about him."

"That's mean, Rocky..."

"Hey, it's true," he couldn't help but laugh.

As the sky turned orange -initially difficult to see with the kitchen fire burning the entire area into similar color- the pups knew it was only a matter of time until Ryder came back. Eager to resolve control over the mayhem actively melting the tower, the dogs settled down for the setting sun. No one knew where Chase went, likely stormed off to piece his ego back together, but he was usually back by midnight. With nothing left to do, the pups rested in their kennels and waited, residing in the comforting light of the tower fire.