Chapter 1: Can You Hack It?
Chapter Text
The sun was shining brightly over Adventure Bay as the PAW Patrol assembled at the Lookout for a day of training. Ryder stood before the group, his clipboard in hand, outlining the drills.
"Alright, team," Ryder began, his voice steady and encouraging, "today's focus is teamwork and specialty skills. Let's give it our all!"
The team barked their agreement, excitement and determination buzzing in the air. Rubble, however, felt a pang of nervousness. He hadn't been performing well lately, and it was starting to weigh on him. As the drills began, his fears quickly became reality.
During the agility course, Rubble tripped over an obstacle, sending a stack of poles clattering to the ground with a resounding crash. He scrambled to his feet, his ears flattening in embarrassment as Rocky helped reset the course. Later, his attempt at lifting a heavy beam ended disastrously when it rolled out of control, narrowly missing Ryder's ATV.
"Don't worry, Rubble," Skye said kindly as she flew overhead, her goggles catching the sunlight. "You'll get it next time!"
But Chase, observing from the sidelines, couldn't hide a subtle look of concern. His disciplined nature made him particularly attuned to performance, and Rubble caught the expression. His heart sank, and his ears drooped.
After the session, as the team regrouped, Rubble overheard Ryder speaking quietly to Chase near the control panel.
"We need to make sure everyone is at their best," Ryder said, his tone thoughtful. "What we do here depends on it."
Rubble's stomach sank further. Am I dragging the team down? he thought to himself, a lump forming in his throat.
Later that day, Chase approached Katie at the pet grooming parlor, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. His tail twitched nervously. "Katie, can you help me with something?" he asked, his tone quieter than usual.
Katie raised an eyebrow, setting down a grooming brush. "Sure, what's up?"
Chase hesitated for a moment, then said, "I want to plan a special date for Skye. Something… memorable. But it has to be perfect."
Katie's face lit up with a smile. "How sweet! I've got just the idea. How about a sunset picnic? I can help set it up with fairy lights and everything."
Chase's tail wagged, relief washing over him. "That sounds perfect. Thanks, Katie. Just… keep it a secret, okay?"
"My lips are sealed," Katie replied with a wink.
Meanwhile, Rubble sat alone by the training field, his head hanging low as he watched the sun rise to its highest point in the sky. Marshall noticed and trotted over, his usual clumsy enthusiasm tempered by genuine concern.
"Hey, Rubble," Marshall said, plopping down beside him with a friendly thud. "You okay?"
Rubble sighed, pawing at the ground. "I just feel like I'm not good enough. What if Ryder decides I'm not cut out for this?"
Marshall's expression softened, his usual goofy grin replaced with a rare seriousness. "You know, I felt the same way once," he said. "Can I tell you a story?"
Rubble nodded, and Marshall began. "Before Ryder found me, I tried to join a group of fire dogs. I thought it was my dream, but… they didn't think I was good enough."
In a flashback, a younger Marshall eagerly attempted fire dog drills, his tail wagging with anticipation. But as he raced to connect a fire hose, he tripped, sending it flying. Later, he knocked over a ladder while climbing, causing a domino effect that brought down half the equipment. Despite his determination, the fire dogs shook their heads and sent him away.
"I was crushed," Marshall admitted. "But then Ryder found me. He didn't care about my mistakes—he saw what I could be. And now I'm here, part of this amazing team."
Marshall smiled at Rubble, nudging him gently. "Being part of the team isn't about being perfect. It's about having heart, and you've got that."
Rubble managed a small smile, his spirits lifting slightly. "Thanks, Marshall. I'll try to remember that."
Ryder's afternoon of logging performance reviews was interrupted by his phone ringing. "Ryder here," he answered, his tone shifting to alertness.
"We've got an emergency at the construction site," a worker's voice said. "An unstable platform's about to collapse, and it could cause serious damage!"
"We're on it," Ryder replied.
Moments later, the PAW Patrol stood at attention at the top of the Lookout. Ryder tapped a button on the big screen, pulling up a schematic of the construction site. The image showed a platform teetering precariously over a pile of equipment, its supports visibly strained.
"Here's the situation," Ryder explained. "This platform is unstable and could collapse at any moment. If it does, it will damage critical equipment and endanger anyone nearby. We need to secure the structure and ensure everyone is safe." He turned to the team. "Marshall, Rocky, you're with me. Rubble, I was hoping you could come along to observe our next mission, but this will be a dangerous situation, so you'll stay here this time."
Rubble was disappointed, but he had no time to voice it as Ryder, Marshall, and Rocky raced to the rescue.
Chase shifted. The team came first, but Marshall and Rocky could handle this, and there wasn't much Chase could do to help this time. Besides, what he was planning was important too.
Shortly after the others left, Chase excused himself, saying, "I have something to take care of."
He sweetly nuzzled Skye and went down the elevator, leaving Skye and Zuma behind on standby.
At that moment, Skye and Zuma realized the math wasn't adding up, and there was one less dog in the Lookout than there should be...
At the construction site, Ryder, Marshall, and Rocky worked with precision, the tension in the air palpable. Rocky's tools clanked as he secured beams, sweat glistening on his brow as he double-checked each connection. Marshall darted between points, monitoring for signs of further collapse, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by focused determination.
Suddenly, a low groan echoed from the platform above. Ryder's eyes shot up just as a section gave way with a deafening crash. Debris tumbled down like an avalanche, sending clouds of dust billowing into the air.
"Marshall!" Ryder shouted as he saw the Dalmatian pinned under a heavy slab. He sprinted to his side, his heart pounding. "Hold on, we'll get you out."
Marshall winced, his voice shaky but still laced with his usual optimism. "Take your time, guys. No rush or anything…"
Ryder grabbed his communicator, ready to call for backup, when a familiar voice rang out through the chaos. "I'm here!"
Out of the swirling dust, Rubble appeared, his chest heaving and eyes burning with determination. Ryder's initial frustration at seeing him melted into urgency. "Alright, Rubble," Ryder said, his voice firm but encouraging. "We need to get this debris off Marshall carefully. Can you do it?"
Rubble nodded without hesitation. "I've got this."
He moved to the rubble, his strong paws digging and shifting pieces with surprising finesse. Each movement was deliberate, his muscles straining under the weight of the slabs. Dust coated his fur and stung his eyes, but he didn't falter. The groaning structure above added pressure to every second, but Rubble's focus never wavered.
"Almost there," Rubble muttered to himself as he worked. Finally, with one last push, he freed the debris trapping Marshall.
Marshall let out a relieved sigh as Ryder and Rocky helped him to his feet. "Just a few bruises," he said with a weak grin. "Thanks, Rubble. You really saved me."
Ryder placed a hand on Rubble's shoulder, his expression a mix of relief and sternness. "You did great, Rubble. That took real courage and skill. But disobeying orders and putting yourself at risk isn't the way to prove yourself. We'll talk about this later."
Rubble lowered his head slightly, but Ryder's next words lifted his spirits. "For now, let's finish what we started. You're here, so I'm gonna put you to work."
The young bulldog's tail wagged faintly as he nodded, ready to see the mission through.
As the day wound down and news came in that everyone involved in the mission was safe, Chase led Skye to a quiet clearing overlooking Adventure Bay. The picnic Katie had helped set up was perfect: a cozy blanket spread neatly over the grass, fairy lights strung between trees casting a warm glow, and a spaghetti dinner arranged on the blanket with two small bowls of water nearby.
"Wow, Chase," Skye said, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. "This is… amazing."
Chase smiled bashfully, his paws shifting nervously. "I just wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."
Skye's tail wagged, her smile softening as she sat down on the blanket. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" she teased gently.
Chase chuckled, sitting beside her. "Only for you," he replied, his voice low but sincere.
They began eating, the quiet sounds of the evening and the distant waves filling the air. Chase glanced at Skye several times, catching the way her eyes sparkled in the glow of the lights. Gathering his courage, he spoke. "Skye, I've been wanting to do something like this for a while. You mean a lot to me, and I thought… this might be a good way to show it."
Skye looked at him, her smile growing warmer. "Chase, this is perfect. I'm glad you did. You mean a lot to me too."
As the sun set, painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange, pink, and purple, the two shared a quiet, heartfelt moment. The lights flickered gently around them as they leaned closer, their bond deepened by the time they spent together. Above them, the first stars of the evening began to appear, marking the end of a memorable day.
As Chase and Skye enjoyed their quiet picnic overlooking Adventure Bay, back at the Lookout, Ryder and Rubble sat together in Ryder's office. The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the computer screen casting long shadows across the walls. Ryder leaned back in his chair, gesturing for Rubble to sit across from him.
"Rubble, you really came through today," Ryder began, his tone calm but firm. "You showed incredible courage and determination. Without you, Marshall might still be stuck under that debris."
Rubble's ears perked up slightly, but he remained quiet, unsure of what to say.
Ryder continued, "But disobeying orders to prove yourself wasn't the right way to handle things. When I ask you to stay back, it's not because I doubt your abilities—it's because I need to make sure everyone stays safe."
Rubble lowered his gaze, his voice small. "I just didn't want you to think I wasn't good enough to be on the team."
Ryder's expression softened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "Rubble, you are good enough. You're part of this team because of your heart, your strength, and your willingness to help others. Nobody expects you to be perfect. We all make mistakes, but what matters is how we learn from them."
Rubble's tail wagged faintly as he looked up at Ryder. "You really mean that?"
Ryder nodded. "Absolutely. And I'm proud of you for stepping up today. Just remember, you don't have to prove your worth by taking unnecessary risks. Keep working hard, trust your team, and you'll keep growing into an even better rescuer."
A small smile spread across Rubble's face. "Thanks, Ryder. I promise I'll do better."
Ryder smiled back, standing up and giving Rubble a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I know you will."
Chapter 2: The Pumpkin Caper
Chapter Text
The morning sun rose over Adventure Bay, illuminating the fields and hills in a golden hue. Farmer Yumi walked briskly toward her pumpkin patch, a basket in hand and a cheerful tune on her lips. She imagined the vibrant orange pumpkins glistening in the sunlight, ready for the upcoming harvest festival. But as she rounded the corner of the barn, her humming stopped abruptly. Her jaw dropped in disbelief.
The field was empty. Stalks lay bent and broken, the earth scuffed and disturbed, and not a single pumpkin was in sight. It was as if the patch had been raided overnight.
Gripping her phone tightly, Farmer Yumi dialed Ryder with urgency. "Ryder, it's an emergency! My pumpkins are gone—all of them!"
Minutes later, the PAW Patrol assembled at the Lookout. Farmer Yumi's worried face appeared on the big screen as she explained the situation. She showed footage of the desolate field, her voice trembling with concern.
"Don't worry, Farmer Yumi," Ryder said confidently. "We'll get to the bottom of this."
He turned to the team. "Chase, you'll lead the investigation. Skye, you'll provide aerial support. Rubble, you'll tag along as extra help. This is a great opportunity to get some field experience and learn on the job."
The dogs barked in agreement, their determination evident. Moments later, they were on their way, Rubble riding along in Chase's police cruiser.
The trio arrived at Farmer Yumi's field, where Chase immediately got to work, his nose to the ground as he sniffed for clues. Skye soared overhead, her sharp eyes scanning the area for any unusual activity. Rubble followed Chase closely, watching intently but unsure how to contribute.
"Looks like we've got a trail," Skye called over the communicator, her voice playful. Faint tracks led toward the woods. "Think you can keep up, Detective?"
Chase glanced up, smirking. "Don't worry about me, Skye. The real question is whether you can keep up with my nose."
Their banter continued as they followed the tracks. Rubble trailed behind, his ears drooping slightly. "I'm just the extra paws here," he thought, his confidence wavering.
Meanwhile, back at the Lookout, Ryder and Rocky were busy in the garage, taking inventory of the tools and supplies. Ryder checked items off a list on his tablet while Rocky organized materials on the shelves.
"You know, Rubble's been doing really well lately," Ryder said, glancing at Rocky. "He's eager to learn and always willing to step up. I think he's ready for more responsibility."
Rocky nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, he's got a natural knack for digging and heavy lifting. Once he gets some specialized gear, I think he'll be a real powerhouse on the team."
Ryder smiled. "Let's see how he handles today's mission. I have a feeling he'll impress us again."
The trail led deep into the forest, where the team discovered scraps of pumpkin flesh scattered across the path. Chase sniffed the pieces carefully, confirming they were from Farmer Yumi's pumpkins.
Skye, hovering nearby, spotted something unusual. "Over here," she called out, pointing with her paw. "Looks like someone's been snacking."
Chase crouched near the burrow she indicated, his tail twitching thoughtfully. "Could be raccoons," he said. "They're clever enough to pull something like this."
Rubble perked up. "I can dig it out and check!" Without waiting for approval, he began widening the burrow entrance. Dirt flew as he worked, his determination shining through. Within minutes, he uncovered a hidden tunnel.
The tunnel opened into a small clearing, where a group of mischievous raccoons had piled the stolen pumpkins. The raccoons froze at the sight of the team, then scattered into the trees, leaving their stash behind.
"Looks like we found the perps," Chase said with a wag of his tail. "Nice work, Rubble."
Skye landed gracefully, smiling. "Yeah, great job! You saved us a lot of time."
Rubble beamed at the praise, his confidence surging. The team worked together to carefully roll the pumpkins back to Farmer Yumi's field. Rubble's strength proved invaluable, especially when handling the heaviest pumpkins.
Back at the Lookout, the team gathered for a debrief. Ryder stood by the big screen, reviewing Chase's mission report.
"Fantastic work, everyone," Ryder began, his gaze sweeping the group. "And Rubble, you really stood out today. Your digging skills and determination were crucial to this mission."
Rubble's eyes widened as Ryder continued. "I think it's time to officially assign you your specialty: digging and construction."
Cheers erupted from the team as Rubble's tail wagged furiously. "Thanks, Ryder! I promise I won't let you down!"
That evening, Farmer Yumi hosted a thank-you party at the pumpkin patch. The team gathered under a canopy of stars, enjoying pumpkin pie and cider. Rubble eagerly shared the news of his new role, earning heartfelt congratulations from Farmer Yumi.
By the fence, Chase and Skye stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the moonlit fields.
"So," Chase said with a playful grin, "do you think I solved the case fast enough?"
Skye chuckled softly, nudging him with her shoulder. "Maybe. But I'll let you win… just this once."
Chase laughed, his tail wagging. "You're just afraid I'll beat you next time, admit it."
"Keep dreaming, Detective," Skye teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
The playful banter gave way to a softer moment as Skye glanced at Chase. Her tone shifted, more serious but warm. "You know, Chase, you're really great at what you do. Watching you lead today—you were so composed, so focused. It's inspiring."
Chase's ears flicked as he turned to her, surprised by the compliment. "Thanks, Skye. That means a lot coming from you."
Skye smiled softly, her tail wagging. "Well, it's true. You're a great leader… not to mention really cute."
Chase's ears shot up, and his cheeks flushed under his fur. He turned to look at Skye, wide-eyed. "C-cute?" he stammered, his tail wagging hesitantly. "I mean, thanks. I—heh," he hesitated, suddenly feeling very bashful. "I think you're cute, too."
The moment hung in the air between them, the warmth of their words bringing them ever closer together. Skye's smile deepened, and she leaned fully into Chase, her voice gentle. "Well, I guess that makes us even."
Chase chuckled softly, his nervous energy beginning to settle as he draped a paw around her, pulling her close. "Yeah, I guess it does." He glanced back at the field, the soft glow of the stars mirrored in his eyes.
Their quiet moment was broken by the sound of laughter from the rest of the team a ways off, reminding them of the celebration. Skye nudged him lightly with her paw. "Come on, Detective. Let's not miss out on all the fun."
Chase grinned, nodding as they walked back toward the group, their bond ever growing under the canopy of twinkling stars.
Chapter 3: The Prank War
Chapter Text
It was a quiet, crisp Saturday morning in late October at the Lookout, and Rubble was taking full advantage of his day off. Snuggled deep in his doghouse, he let out a contented sigh, relishing the chance to sleep in.
But the peace didn't last long.
A ghostly howl echoed through the yard. "Ooooooh… I'm coming to get yooooou…"
Rubble's eyes shot open. His heart raced as he scrambled out of his doghouse, his fur bristling. "W-who's there?" he barked, glancing around.
From behind a bush, Zuma emerged, laughing so hard he could barely stand. "Gotcha, dude! You should've seen your face!" he said between chuckles, wagging his tail.
Rubble blinked, realizing he'd been pranked. His tension melted into a sheepish laugh. "You got me good," he admitted, shaking his head. "But just wait—I'll get you back."
A little while later, Rubble recounted the prank to Rocky and Skye as they lounged near the gear room. Skye frowned, her wings twitching. "Zuma's always pulling pranks, but picking on you just because you're new? That's not cool."
Rocky nodded. "We should help you teach him a lesson."
Nearby, Chase and Marshall overheard the conversation. "Oh, come on," Chase said, rolling his eyes. "It's just harmless fun. Zuma's been like this forever."
"Yeah," Marshall chimed in. "Nobody takes it personally."
With that, Chase and Marshall walked away with plans to wash their vehicles.
Skye smirked. "Well, if it's 'all good fun,' then who's to say we shouldn't help Rubble get a little payback?"
"Oh, I'm so in," Rocky replied, wagging his tail.
Rubble giggled. "What have you got in mind, Skye?"
Skye grinned evilly. "You'll see!"
Later that day, Skye lobbied Ryder for a trip to Adventure Bay's indoor pool, claiming she was missing the fun of summer but lamenting that it was too cold to play in the ocean. Ryder agreed it was a good idea and told Skye to inform the others that they would be heading out to the pool soon.
Phase one complete, Skye thought.
As expected, Zuma was especially excited at the prospect of a day at the pool. Skye, Rocky, and Rubble somehow managed to contain their glee at what they were about to pull off. Ryder suspected something was going on, but he decided not to interfere, for now.
The team arrived at the pool to find that they were the only ones there. Apparently, late October wasn't a time that many people had a mind to go swimming.
Zuma was the first one in the water, doing an impressive flip off the diving board. Chase and Marshall followed, arguing playfully over which of the two made the bigger splash when they cannonballed into the water.
Rocky distracted Ryder by sitting with him in the pool chairs and talking about the music of his favorite composer, Anton Bruckner. Ryder, also a Bruckner enthusiast (although not quite on the level of Rocky as an admirer), was happy to discuss the composer's epic symphonic music with Rocky.
The commotions and distractions allowed Skye and Rubble to furnish a secret weapon: a harmless blue dye. While Zuma floated on his back, completely relaxed, they tipped the dye into the water near him.
Within seconds, a bright blue cloud surrounded Zuma. He scrambled upright and hurried out of the pool, his eyes wide. "What the—?!"
Skye couldn't hold back her laughter. "Zuma! Did you just…?!"
Rocky, walking over to the pool, added with a mischievous grin, "Guess we know who's marking their territory!"
"Don't mess with the bulldog!" Rubble howled, wagging his tail triumphantly.
Zuma stared at the water, realization dawning. "Oh, man! You guys got me!" he said, bursting into laughter. His tail wagged furiously. "Okay, okay, that was a good one. But now it's on."
Chase, who hadn't been in on the prank, awkwardly climbed out of the pool. "I'll just wait for the water to clear," he muttered, earning another round of laughter.
"Dude," Zuma said, "they pranked me. Hard. They used that blue stuff to make it look like I peed in the water."
"Wow, that's rough," Chase replied before smirking. "Want some help getting 'em back?"
"Sure," Zuma returned Chase's smirk, turning to Marshall. "You in?"
"Heck yeah, I'm in," Marshall grinned. "Looks like this is officially a prank war."
Ryder, watching from his pool chair, shook his head with a smile. "This is going to be interesting."
PRANK MONTAGE!
Lynyrd Skynyrd's
Call Me the Breeze
plays in the background…
The prank war was in full swing, with each member of the PAW Patrol determined to outwit the others. Over the course of several days, the Lookout became a battlefield of hilarity and chaos.
It started innocently enough. Rocky returned to the garage after a quick break, ready to tinker with some new designs. He grabbed his trusty toolbox, but when he opened the lid, a cascade of soap suds spilled out, covering his tools—and his paws.
"What in the world?!" Rocky exclaimed, staring at the bubbly mess.
Marshall peeked around the corner, biting his lip to hold back laughter. "Looks like your tools needed a bath!" he said, barely able to contain himself.
Rocky sighed, shaking suds from his paws. "Seriously, Marshall? Do you know how long it's going to take me to clean this up?"
Marshall wagged his tail. "What do you mean? Your tools are squeaky clean!" He darted off, leaving Rocky grumbling—but also chuckling—as he wiped down his tools.
The next morning, Marshall bounded happily toward his fire truck, ready for a routine check. But as he approached, his paws stuck to the floor.
"Huh?" Marshall stopped, lifting one paw only to have another stick. "What's going on?!"
He tried to move forward, but the clear sticky pads slowed him down, making him stumble awkwardly.
From his hiding spot, Rubble watched, his face turning red from suppressed laughter. "Come on, come on, keep going…" he whispered to himself.
Marshall finally spotted the pads and groaned. "Really? Who did this?" He looked around but couldn't see the culprit. "I'm gonna get you back for this, whoever you are!"
At that moment, Rubble stepped out from behind the fire truck, laughing uncontrollably. "Looks like someone's stuck in a sticky situation!"
Marshall glared, but his frustration quickly melted into laughter. "Alright, Rubble. Good one."
Chase was midway through a routine patrol around the Lookout (an exercise Chase used to sharpen his observation skills) when he noticed a white shape floating above him in the night sky. "What the…?" he muttered, squinting up at the glowing figure.
The sheet, rigged by Skye to dangle from her jetpack, fluttered eerily in the wind as she flew in a lazy circle. "Ooooooh, I'm the ghost of the Lookout…" she moaned, trying to sound spooky.
Chase's tail bristled as he barked sharply, "Skye, cut that out!" His attempt at sternness was undercut by the way he jumped when the "ghost" swooped closer.
Skye landed nearby, laughing so hard she nearly tipped over. "Admit it, Chase. You were scared!"
Chase huffed, shaking himself off. "Was not. I was… investigating." But the faint wag of his tail contrasted his serious tone.
Skye was gearing up to practice some maneuvers with her jetpack when she noticed Zuma loitering near the gear room. "What are you up to, Zuma?" she asked suspiciously.
"Me? Oh, nothing," Zuma said, grinning innocently as he trotted away.
Squinting, Skye went into the gear room. Whatever Zuma was up to, she would probably find out later, one way or another.
Skye activated her jetpack and took off. But moments into her flight, a loud pop-pop-pop filled the air. She glanced down, horrified, as popcorn rained around her, spilling from her jetpack's storage compartment.
"What the—?!" Skye shouted, trying to shake off the kernels. Below, Zuma rolled on the ground, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
"Hey, Skye, I see you packed in-flight snacks!" Zuma called up.
Skye landed, popcorn still spilling from her gear. "Zuma," she said, narrowing her eyes, "you just made my list."
Rocky was meticulously cleaning the garage after a minor spill, muttering to himself about keeping things in order. He stepped away for a moment to grab a cloth, only to return and find tools scattered everywhere.
"I just cleaned this up!" Rocky said, exasperated as he bent down to tidy the mess.
Unbeknownst to him, Chase was hiding behind a stack of crates, waiting for his moment. As soon as Rocky left again, Chase darted out, scattering tools and shuffling supplies to make another mess.
This cycle repeated two more times, with Rocky growing increasingly baffled. "I know I'm not crazy," he muttered, scratching his head.
Finally, on the fourth attempt, Rocky caught sight of Chase peeking out from behind the crates, struggling to stifle his laughter. "Chase!" Rocky barked, putting the pieces together.
Chase stepped out, his tail wagging furiously. "Gotcha!"
Rocky glared, then sighed. "Alright, you got me. But you're cleaning this up."
"Gotta catch me first!" Chase barked before taking off, Rocky laughing and barking as he gave chase.
The pranks continued to fly fast and furious over the next couple of days. Tools were swapped, beds were booby-trapped, and water balloons seemed to appear out of nowhere. The war only paused briefly for a rescue involving a kitten stuck in a tree, but as soon as the mission was complete, the pranks picked right back up.
It was Halloween night, and the crisp autumn air carried a chill as the moon rose in the sky. The Lookout stood silhouetted against the moonlight, its usual glow eerily absent. The PAW Patrol team was gathered at the park, each secretly plotting their next prank, when their communicators buzzed.
"Team, I need you back at the Lookout immediately," Ryder's voice crackled through the speakers. The urgency in his tone made everyone's ears perk up. "Something's… wrong… here." His voice cut out suddenly, leaving only static.
"Whoa," Marshall said softly, a slight tremor in his voice.
Chase's brows furrowed. "Ryder wouldn't call us like that unless it was serious. Let's go."
The team raced back to the Lookout, arriving to find it shrouded in darkness. The usual welcoming lights were off, and an unsettling silence hung in the air. Only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside broke the stillness.
"Ryder?" Skye called out, her voice trembling slightly. "Are you here?"
A low creak echoed through the hallway, making Marshall jump. "D-did you hear that?"
Inside, the Lookout was barely lit by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the windows. Shadows seemed to dance along the walls, and faint, otherworldly whispers drifted down the corridor.
"What's going on?" Zuma whispered, his tail tucked.
As they ventured deeper, the whispers grew louder, almost like voices murmuring unintelligible words. The lights flickered sporadically, casting brief glimpses of movement—shadowy figures that seemed to dart just out of sight.
"Stay close," Chase said firmly, but even his voice wavered. Skye moved closer to him, her paw brushing his side. "This is… really weird," she murmured.
A loud BANG echoed from across the room, making the team jump. It sounded like a door slamming, and it came from the direction of Ryder's office. Rubble clung to Rocky. "I don't like this," he muttered.
The team crept forward, their paws soft against the cold floor. Suddenly, a deep, ghostly moan reverberated through the Lookout. Zuma froze—he could swear he saw a shadowy figure move behind the elevator. "Nope. I'm out," he whimpered, trying to back away, but Chase nudged him forward.
As they neared the control room, a shadow loomed large on the wall, twisting and stretching. The team huddled together, their hearts racing. Skye instinctively held onto Chase, her legs trembling. "What is that?" she whispered.
Then, just as the team was about to turn tail and run, a blinding flashlight beam shot up from the corner of the room, illuminating a grinning, distorted face. "BOO!" Ryder shouted, his voice echoing dramatically.
"AHHH!" Zuma yelped, leaping into the air before stumbling backward onto the floor. The rest of the team froze in shock before bursting into laughter as Ryder stepped into the light, holding the flashlight under his face like a campfire storyteller.
"You should've seen your faces!" Ryder said, laughing so hard he could barely stand. He flicked a switch, and the Lookout lights came back on, revealing the familiar, safe space they all knew.
Chase shook his head, a small smile playing on his face. "Ryder? You pranked us?"
Ryder grinned. "What can I say? You guys made it look like a lot of fun—I couldn't resist."
Skye wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. "Okay, Ryder, you win. That was amazing."
"You really got us," Rocky added.
Zuma, still catching his breath, let out a laugh as he sat up. "Even I can't follow that act."
With the prank war decidedly over, it was time for another kind of Halloween fun. The team donned their uniforms and joined the town for trick-or-treating. Neighborhood kids were thrilled to see their local heroes out and about, collecting candy alongside them.
As they returned to the Lookout (properly lit this time), Ryder gathered the team. "This week's been fun, but remember—Halloween is about more than just pranks. It's about spending time with friends and making memories."
The team barked in agreement, though none could deny the fun they had pulling increasingly ridiculous pranks on each other, and all were already hatching schemes for the next Halloween...
Chapter 4: The Lost Lantern
Chapter Text
The crisp air of November swept through Adventure Bay, carrying with it the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the soft murmur of an eager crowd. Lanterns of every size and shape began to glow, their light reflecting in the eyes of families gathered for the annual Lantern Walk. It was a tradition steeped in warmth and community, marking the transition from the fiery colors of fall to the quiet stillness of winter.
The PAW Patrol was out in full force to help make the evening a success. Chase stood near the entrance to the trail, his stance poised and professional as he kept the flow of families moving smoothly. His sharp eyes caught every detail, from a child lagging behind to a lantern teetering precariously in a tiny hand.
"Keep moving, everyone. Stay with your group and enjoy the walk," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.
Above, Skye soared in her helicopter, her keen gaze sweeping over the glowing procession below. "This is so beautiful," she murmured into her communicator. "It's like a river of stars winding through the trees."
Nearby, Ryder, Rubble, and Rocky handed out lanterns to those still arriving. Ryder greeted each family with a warm smile, while Rubble made a game out of guessing who had the most creative design. Rocky did his best to maintain a friendly face, but the ground being wet from a soaking rain the previous night kept him on edge.
"Check this out!" a young boy named Ethan exclaimed, holding up a lantern painted with intricate patterns of gold and blue.
"Wow," Rubble said, his tail wagging. "That's not just a lantern—it's a masterpiece!"
Ethan grinned proudly. "I made it with my parents. It's my favorite thing in the world!"
Meanwhile, Marshall entertained a group of children by attempting to juggle lantern boxes. Predictably, he tripped, sending the boxes tumbling to the ground. The kids erupted into laughter as Marshall scrambled to his feet, his ears flopping wildly.
"Whoops! Guess I'm better at juggling smiles than boxes," he quipped, his goofy grin melting away any tension.
As the lantern-lit crowd made its way deeper into the woods, Ethan's excitement turned to alarm. His precious lantern slipped from his grasp and rolled down a slope, its golden glow fading as it tumbled into the darkness.
"No, no, no!" he whispered, darting off the trail without a second thought. The woods were quieter here, the murmurs of the crowd growing distant as he scrambled to find his prized possession.
Minutes later, Ethan's parents realized he was gone. Panic filled their voices as they called out his name, scanning the sea of lanterns in vain.
"Ryder!" Ethan's mother cried, rushing toward the leader of the PAW Patrol. "We can't find our son! He had his lantern, and now he's gone!"
Ryder's expression turned serious. "We'll find him. Don't worry." He turned to the team, his voice calm but commanding. "Everyone, gather up! Ethan's wandered off the trail. We need to find him before it gets dark. The woods can be dangerous at night."
He divided the team swiftly:
"Skye, take to the air and search from above. Chase, Rocky, you're on the ground. Follow his trail. Rubble, stay with me to coordinate. We'll assist if you need anything. Marshall, keep the other kids entertained and reassured."
"On it, Ryder!" they barked in unison, springing into action.
Skye's helicopter glided over the treetops, the rhythmic hum of the rotors blending with the rustle of wind through the branches. But the dense canopy below obscured her view.
"Ryder, I can't see much through these trees," she admitted, frustration lacing her voice.
"Look for any clearings, and keep your eyes peeled for unusual movements," Ryder replied. "You've got this, Skye."
She inhaled deeply, slowing her circling pattern to focus on subtle shifts in the shadows below.
On the forest floor, Chase led Rocky along a faint trail of footprints pressed into the damp earth. The woods were quiet except for the crunch of leaves underpaw and the distant hoot of an owl.
"Stay close," Chase said, his voice steady. "These prints are fresh—we're on the right track."
Rocky nodded, though his steps were cautious. The recent rain had left the ground slick, and the scent of damp leaves mixed with the earthy tang of mud.
Without warning, Rocky's paw slid on the slippery terrain, sending him tumbling into a shallow puddle. The cold water soaked his fur, and panic overtook him.
The sound of the splash might as well have been a gunshot to Chase; as soon as he heard it, he immediately stopped and turned to Rocky, who was frozen on the spot.
Rocky tried to speak, but all that escaped was two shallow gasps as he struggled to breathe.
Chase pulled Rocky away from the puddle and placed a firm paw on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe—I'm right here. Look at me, Rocky—deep breaths. In and out."
Rocky's eyes darted nervously, but Chase's calm voice broke through the fog of his fear. He tried to match Chase's steady breathing, the warmth of his friend's touch anchoring him.
"That's it," Chase soothed. "Deep breaths, Rocky. Just take a minute. You're okay."
"I'm okay," Rocky repeated, his breathing becoming more steady. "I'm okay."
"That's right," Chase said, his tone unwavering. "We're a team, in it together. I got you, okay?"
Slowly, Rocky's breathing steadied. He nodded, his voice trembling but determined. "Thanks, Chase. I think I'm good now."
Chase smiled, backing off to let Rocky stand on his own. "That's what friends are for. Ready to keep going?"
Rocky nodded, and together, they pressed on. Both laughed when Rocky grumbled, "Just wait 'til I find whoever put that puddle there."
As the last of the daylight faded away, Skye's updates crackled over the communicator. "I think I see something… wait, no… just shadows," she reported, her voice tinged with frustration.
At one point, her directions led Chase and Rocky to a dead end. Chase took a deep breath. The old Chase would have reacted with anger to Skye's mistake. But over the last year, he had learned to be more patient with that sort of thing; it was better to redirect than clamp down and increase everyone's frustrations.
That is not to mention, he was rather fond of his relationship with Skye and would much prefer not to hurt her feelings.
"Everybody, let's stay focused here," Chase said calmly. "Skye, keep scanning for clearings; it's not your fault you can't see through trees. Rocky, let's circle back a little ways and double-check this trail. Between my nose and your tracking skills, I think we can do it."
Ryder, listening in from the trailhead, smiled to himself, proud of the ways that Chase's leadership had matured. Chase's comment to Skye also made Ryder think: Perhaps I can equip Skye's copter with some kind of thermal vision for these kinds of situations…
Back at the starting point, the crowd grew restless. Marshall, sensing the rising tension, leapt into action—not with his paws, but with his words.
"Alright, who wants to hear a story?" he asked, his tail wagging.
The kids' eyes lit up, and Marshall launched into an exaggerated retelling of the PAW Patrol's past rescues. He mimicked Chase's serious tone, Skye's aerial acrobatics, and even his own clumsy but determined moments.
"And then," he said, flopping dramatically onto the ground, "I tripped over my own paws! But I still managed to save the day!"
The children erupted into laughter, their worries forgotten. Parents exchanged grateful smiles, relieved by Marshall's lighthearted storytelling.
"Wait," Skye's voice crackled over the radio. "I see something—a faint light near the creek!"
"Due east?" Chase asked, to which Skye excitedly affirmed, "Yep!"
"We got him," the German Shepherd said with a smirk.
Chase and Rocky followed their instincts and Skye's directions and found Ethan sitting on a mossy rock, clutching his lantern. Tears streaked his face, but his relief was palpable when he saw the team.
"It's okay, Ethan," Chase said gently, kneeling beside him. "We're here to take you back to your family."
From above, Skye led the group back to the clearing where the others waited, while Rocky used his tools to smooth out the path to make it a bit easier to traverse. Chase stayed close to Ethan, offering steady encouragement to the rattled child.
Back at the trailhead, Ethan's parents embraced him, their tears of relief mirrored by the glowing lanterns around them. "Thank you," they said to the team. "You're our heroes."
As the Lantern Walk resumed, the PAW Patrol gathered under the stars.
"Rocky, you were great out there," Chase said, his voice warm.
Rocky smiled. "Only because you helped me keep my cool."
Skye grinned. "I learned a lot tonight—sometimes you just have to think outside the box."
Marshall, still basking in the kids' laughter, wagged his tail proudly. "Turns out I'm not just a firefighter—I'm a storyteller, too!"
As families released floating lanterns into the sky, their warm glow illuminated the forest. Ryder watched with pride. "Tonight reminded us that trusting each other makes us stronger. Great job, everyone."
The lanterns drifted upward, carrying their light into the endless night.
Chapter 5: Under Pressure
Chapter Text
It was early December, but the first snowstorm of the season had already come.
Snow blanketed Adventure Bay in a thick, glistening layer, transforming the town into a winter wonderland. Icicles sparkled in the morning light, and the soft crunch of snow underfoot was a constant melody. But inside the Lookout, things were not as festive.
Ryder frowned as he placed a thermometer in Rocky's mouth. The mixed-breed dog sniffled miserably, his usually vibrant energy replaced with a sluggish demeanor. When the thermometer beeped, Ryder glanced at the reading and sighed.
"Yep, a fever," Ryder said, his tone sympathetic. "Looks like it's the dog flu after all. You're going to be out of commission for the next week, Rocky."
Rocky groaned, pulling the blanket around him tighter. "But what if something breaks? Who's going to fix it?" he rasped, his voice hoarse.
"Don't worry about that," Ryder assured him, gently scooping Rocky into his arms. "The team can handle it, and I'll make sure you're taken care of." He carried Rocky to the lobby, where a makeshift sickbed had been prepared. While the doghouses were cozy and self-contained, Ryder thought it was better to keep Rocky nearby for easier care.
Once Rocky was tucked in, Ryder patted his head. "Call if you need anything, okay?"
Rocky nodded weakly, and Ryder was about to grab a cup of tea when his Pup Pad chimed. The worried face of Farmer Al appeared on the screen.
"Ryder! The bridge to my farm's in bad shape!" Farmer Al exclaimed, his voice strained. "The snow and ice are weighing it down, and there's already a crack in one of the beams. If it collapses, we're stuck!"
Ryder nodded gravely. "Don't worry, Farmer Al. We're on it."
The PAW Patrol gathered in the briefing room, the team exchanging curious glances when they noticed Rocky's absence. Ryder stood in front of the big screen, his expression serious.
"You might have noticed Rocky isn't here," Ryder began. "Unfortunately, he's come down with the dog flu, so he won't be joining us today."
The team murmured their concern for their friend, but Ryder quickly brought up an image of the damaged bridge.
"The snow and ice have weakened the structure of the bridge leading onto Farmer Al's property," Ryder explained, pointing to a visible crack in one of the supports. "We need to stabilize the bridge before it collapses. Chase, you'll control the crowds and supervise the mission. Rubble, this is a great chance to show off your construction skills by repairing the bridge."
Rubble's eyes widened, and he glanced nervously at Chase, who stood at attention with his usual confident posture.
"Got it, Ryder," Chase said crisply.
Rubble hesitated, his voice shaky. "Uh, sure… I mean—I can handle it!"
Ryder smiled. "Great. Marshall and I will be here taking care of Rocky. Skye, stay up here on standby in case Chase and Rubble need backup."
"Let's get to it!" Chase said with determination.
The snowstorm had left the landscape pristine and serene, but the bridge told a different story. Snow piled high on either side of the road, and a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered near the sagging structure.
"Alright, everyone, stay behind the cones!" Chase commanded, his authoritative tone cutting through the murmurs. "This area is unsafe. Let's give Rubble space to work."
Rubble approached the bridge, his pawsteps faltering as he saw the visible crack in one of the beams. He felt the weight of Chase's gaze on him, and his heart thudded in his chest.
"You've got this," Rubble muttered under his breath. "Just focus…"
While Chase and Rubble worked on the damaged bridge, the Lookout's lobby was transformed into a makeshift sickbay. Ryder had decided to keep Rocky inside for easier care, knowing that the doghouses, though comfortable, weren't ideal for monitoring the dog flu. Rocky lay sprawled on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, his usually vibrant energy reduced to a lethargic sigh.
Marshall bustled around the room, his optimism undeterred by Rocky's sniffles and groans. Armed with a box of tissues, a thermometer, and a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, he approached with the enthusiasm of a first-time nurse.
"Alright, Rocky, it's time for some soup!" Marshall declared, balancing the bowl in one paw and a spoon in the other. "Open wide!"
Rocky groaned but complied, his ears flattening against his head. "You're worse than a nurse, Marshall," he muttered, though the warm soup did soothe his irritated throat.
Marshall grinned. "See? It's not so bad! This will have you feeling better in no time!"
As Marshall set the bowl down, his wagging tail bumped into the side table, sending a water bowl wobbling before it toppled with a loud splash. "Oops!" Marshall exclaimed, scrambling to mop up the spill with a towel.
Rocky sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "Marshall, maybe you should take it easy…"
But Marshall was already untangling himself from the towel and fluffing a fresh pillow. "Easy? I've got everything under control!" His paw caught the edge of the blanket, sending it sliding off Rocky's paws and onto the floor.
"Marshall!" Rocky groaned, though a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Sorry! I'll fix it!" Marshall chirped, quickly replacing the blanket and tucking Rocky in snugly. "There. Good as new!"
As Marshall started talking about preparing another round of soup, Ryder stepped in.
"Hey, Marshall," Ryder said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've been a great help, but Rocky needs some quiet time to rest. Why don't you take a break?"
Marshall paused, looking sheepish. "You're right. I guess I got a little carried away." He turned back to Rocky, his tail wagging apologetically. "Sorry, buddy. You rest up, okay?"
Rocky gave him a tired but genuine smile. "You're a good friend, Marshall. Thanks for all your help. But yeah… I think I need a nap now."
Marshall nodded and trotted off, leaving Ryder to sit beside Rocky. "You okay?" Ryder asked. "I know Marshall can be a little much for you sometimes."
Rocky chuckled softly, his voice hoarse but amused. "It's okay. I know he just wants to help—and I think he has. But yeah, it's definitely nap time now."
Ryder smiled, patting Rocky's head. "Alright, rest up. I'll check on you in a little while."
As Ryder left the room, Rocky sighed contentedly, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Despite the chaos, he was grateful, as always, for his team—his family.
Rubble was clearing the snow and ice around the base of the bridge, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him. His paws trembled as he positioned a temporary support beam, and in his distracted state, he misjudged its placement.
A low groan echoed through the air as the beam shifted. The entire bridge shuddered, sending a collective gasp through the crowd.
"Rubble, stop!" Chase barked, rushing over to steady the beam. His sharp eyes assessed the situation, finding the support precariously balanced.
Rubble stepped back, his ears pinned against his head. "I—I thought I had it under control," he mumbled, his voice trembling.
Chase's intense gaze softened slightly. "Are you okay?"
Rubble kicked at a patch of snow, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not good under pressure. I just… I really want to be as good at my job as you are at yours."
Chase placed a steady paw on Rubble's shoulder, his voice calm but firm. "Hey, listen. I know this is a tough job. And I know I can be a bit… intense sometimes. But that's only because I believe in your potential to do the job right. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't push you so much."
Rubble looked up, surprised. "You really mean that?"
"Absolutely," Chase said with a small smile. "You can do great things, Rubble. You just need to believe in yourself as much as I believe in you."
Rubble's tail wagged slightly, and he squared his shoulders. "Alright. Let's get this thing done."
With Chase guiding him and pointing out weak spots in the structure, Rubble repositioned the supports with precision. The two worked seamlessly, combining Chase's discipline with Rubble's reflexes and eye for structural details. By the time they finished, the bridge stood strong and secure.
With the final beam in place, the bridge stood strong once more, its structure gleaming in the crisp winter sunlight. Chase and Rubble stood side by side, their breaths visible in the cold air as they exchanged a triumphant paw bump.
Farmer Al approached them, his face brimming with gratitude. "You boys saved the day. I don't know what we'd have done without you. Thank you!" He reached out to ruffle Rubble's head, and the bulldog beamed with pride.
"It wasn't just me," Rubble said modestly, glancing at Chase. "Chase helped a lot. We're a team."
Chase smiled, his tail wagging. "You did the heavy lifting—literally. You were great out there, Rubble."
As the crowd cheered and the area was declared safe, the two dogs began packing up their equipment. On the drive back to the Lookout, Rubble glanced at Chase, his earlier nerves replaced with a growing sense of confidence.
"Hey, Chase?" Rubble began hesitantly. "Thanks for not giving up on me. I guess I just needed a little push."
Chase chuckled, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. "We all need a little push sometimes. What matters is using that push as momentum to press on and get the job done. That's what makes you a great member of the team."
Rubble's chest puffed out slightly, and his tail wagged. "Thanks, Chase. That means a lot."
Back at the Lookout, Rocky sat up on the couch as Ryder entered the lobby. His fever had broken, and though his voice was still hoarse, there was a hint of his usual energy returning.
Chase and Rubble entered the Lookout triumphantly, their mission complete. Ryder congratulated them on a job well done, and they responded to his pets with vigorous tail wagging.
"Looks like you didn't need me after all," Rocky rasped with a small grin.
Chase ruffled Rubble's fur playfully. "We missed you, Rocky, but Rubble handled it like a pro! We're lucky to have him on the team."
Rubble blushed slightly under his fur, mumbling, "Aw, come on, guys…"
Marshall trotted into the room, still clutching a box of tissues. "See, Rocky? You've got the best care—and the best team—in Adventure Bay!"
Rocky groaned but couldn't hide his smirk. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Marshall. If you want to be a good nurse, get me some real food—I'm starving!"
The room filled with laughter as Ryder pulled out a tray of sandwiches and warm soup. The team gathered around, sharing the events of the day and teasing Marshall about his overzealous caregiving.
As the fire crackled in the Lookout's hearth that evening, Ryder called the team together. They sat in a semi-circle, the glow of the flames casting long shadows on the walls.
"I just want to say how proud I am of this team today," Ryder began, his voice steady and warm. "Chase, you've grown into a great leader. Rubble, you proved that you're capable of tackling big challenges and rising to the occasion. And Marshall, even though you had your own… unique way of helping Rocky, your heart was in the right place."
The team chuckled softly, and Marshall wagged his tail sheepishly.
"But more importantly," Ryder continued, his gaze sweeping over them, "today was a reminder of what makes us strong: trust. We trust each other to give our best, even when things get tough. That's why we're more than a team—we're a family."
The room fell quiet, the weight of Ryder's words settling over them. Skye leaned against Chase, who responded to the gesture with a soft hmm, while Rubble laid back with a contented sigh. Rocky nodded, his exhaustion giving way to gratitude.
Marshall broke the silence with a sneeze that sent the tissue box tumbling to the floor. "Oops," he muttered, and the room erupted in laughter once more.
As the evening wound down, the team lingered by the fire, the warmth melting away the drama of the day. Outside, snowflakes drifted softly from the dark sky, blanketing Adventure Bay in a peaceful stillness.
Chapter 6: Saving Midnight Mass
Chapter Text
The snow-crusted streets of Adventure Bay glittered in the pale morning sun as Ryder exited the towering Church of St. Francis of Assisi, the local Catholic parish for Adventure Bay. He walked alongside Joseph Gallius, the church's organist, their breath visible in the crisp winter air.
"So, have you given any more thought to what we talked about?" Joseph asked, adjusting the strap of his bag filled with sheet music over his shoulder.
Ryder glanced up at the Gothic spires of the church. "I have," he replied. "I've decided to explore Catholicism a little more. Father Chris invited me to join the OCIA classes starting in January, so I'll start learning then."
"That's great to hear!" Joseph's face brightened. "And Midnight Mass? Will you be there?"
Ryder nodded. "I wouldn't miss it. I've already talked to Father Chris about bringing the team along. He said the dogs would be more than welcome."
Joseph chuckled. "I'm looking forward to seeing them there. Midnight Mass is something special—it might just surprise you."
Ryder grinned. "I'll see you then, Joseph. Thanks for all the encouragement."
As they shook hands and parted ways, Ryder climbed onto his ATV and headed toward the Lookout, a peaceful sense of purpose settling over him.
When Ryder arrived home, he was greeted by a chorus of wagging tails and curious questions.
"Where've you been all morning?" Skye asked, tilting her head inquisitively.
Ryder leaned against the counter in the main room, setting down his helmet. "I was at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church. I've been going to Mass there on Sundays for a few weeks now. You guys are usually sleeping in while I'm gone."
Chase stepped forward, his ears perked. "Whoa. Are you thinking about becoming Catholic?"
Ryder hesitated, then replied, "Maybe… I'm not sure yet. I want to learn more first. I'm fascinated by the history and the tradition of it all, and I'm starting classes in January to learn more about the faith."
After waiting a moment to let his news sink in, Ryder spoke up again, "I hope you all don't feel like I've been hiding this from you. I was just waiting to tell you until I spoke with Father Chris about something important—which I did today."
"What's that?" Rocky asked curiously.
"Well," Ryder replied, "as you know, this Tuesday is Christmas Eve. It's a very old Catholic tradition to have a Mass at midnight on Christmas Eve, and today Father Chris said you would all be welcome to come with me."
The dogs exchanged excited glances. Marshall wagged his tail so hard he nearly toppled over. "I can't wait! I've never been to church before!"
"Me neither!" Zuma added. "Is it like a big party?"
Ryder laughed. "Not quite, but it's something even better. It's a chance to reflect and celebrate the meaning of Christmas. You'll see. Father Chris is really looking forward to meeting you all, and I also want you to meet my good friend Joseph, the organist at the church. He says the music for Midnight Mass will be really special. And just wait until you see how beautiful the church is."
"Wow," Skye said with excitement in her voice, "I can't wait to go!"
Chase, ever practical but visibly intrigued, nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds important. We'll make sure to be on our best behavior."
Marshall, always full of energy, hopped up and wagged his tail enthusiastically. "I can't wait! I'll even practice my sitting-still skills, so I don't knock anything over!"
Rocky, though a bit more reserved, offered a small smile. "If you think it's worth seeing, Ryder, then I'm in."
Rubble tilted his head. "Do you think they'll have cookies after? You know, Christmas cookies?"
The room erupted into laughter, and Ryder gave Rubble a playful nudge. "If they don't, I'll make sure you get some afterward. Deal?"
"Deal!" Rubble said with a wag of his tail.
Ryder looked around at his team, a warm feeling of camaraderie filling the room. "It'll be a great way for us to celebrate Christmas together, as a team and as a family."
As the dogs settled into the idea, Ryder's mind wandered to the meaning of the Christmas season and the journey he was about to embark on. Midnight Mass was just the beginning, and sharing it with his team felt like the perfect start.
A snowstorm descended on Adventure Bay with an unforgiving intensity, transforming the festive anticipation of Christmas Eve into a battle against nature's wrath. Thick, swirling clouds loomed overhead, casting a gray pall over the town. Snow fell in dense, relentless sheets, blanketing every surface in pristine white, while the icy wind howled through the streets, whipping tree branches into frantic dances and sending shivers through even the warmest of coats.
The stained glass windows of St. Francis of Assisi Church rattled under the force of the gale, their vivid depictions of saints and holy scenes illuminated sporadically by flashes of lightning that streaked across the ominous sky. Roofs groaned under the mounting weight of snow, icicles forming jagged teeth along eaves like nature's own defenses.
Visibility shrank to almost nothing as snowdrifts climbed higher, burying street signs and cars alike. Power lines sagged dangerously, their once taut cables coated in ice that gleamed with a cold, merciless sheen. Flickering streetlights struggled against the encroaching darkness, many of them succumbing to the storm's onslaught. The town, usually so vibrant with holiday cheer, now lay in an eerie stillness punctuated by the wail of the wind and the occasional creak of straining structures.
For the parishioners and choir of the St. Francis of Assisi parish, the storm was more than an inconvenience—it was a crisis. The church, a beacon of hope and light during the holiday season, had fallen into darkness as nearby power lines finally fell under the strain of the storm. The grand pipe organ, silent and powerless, stood as a shadow of its former glory, its towering pipes waiting in vain to fill the sanctuary with their majestic sound.
It was a storm that demanded resilience, unity, and hope—the very essence of what Midnight Mass would come to represent that night.
Inside the church, Father Chris paced near the dark sanctuary, his brow furrowed.
The priest paced all the way to the other end of the church. Just as he passed the baptismal font, Stephen Luds, the church's director of music, entered the narthex, his face pale. Joseph was with him.
"Father Chris," Stephen said, panic in his voice, "we have a problem. As you know, the power is out; and without electricity, the organ is useless. And to make matters worse, our soprano and tenor section leaders are down with laryngitis. Can't sing tonight."
Father Chris sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "Not tonight of all nights… half of Adventure Bay will be coming to Midnight Mass—it has to be perfect."
Suddenly, Joseph's face lit up. "We should call Ryder. If anyone can help, it's him and the PAW Patrol."
"Can you handle that?" Stephen asked. "I have to figure out the choir situation."
"And I need to work on my homily," Father Chris added.
Joseph nodded. "Sure thing." He quickly exited the church and made a phone call.
Ryder sat in a chair in the Lookout lobby, enjoying a rare moment wherein he didn't have anything on his to-do list. He simply sat there, watching the storm out of a nearby window.
But then, his phone rang. Ryder quickly answered, surprised to hear Joseph's voice on the line. Midnight Mass was only a few hours away—shouldn't he be rehearsing?
"Ryder!" Joseph cried out, "we need your help! The power is out at the church, and my bosses are about to pull their hair out. We're down soprano and tenor choir section leaders due to laryngitis, and now this…"
"It's okay, Joseph," Ryder said gently. "We'll do everything we can to get the power back on. And did you say you need a soprano and a tenor?"
Joseph confirmed, and Ryder continued, "Marshall and Skye are both talented singers—I think they can help you out. We'll be at the church in ten minutes."
The Lookout came alive with activity as Ryder called the PAW Patrol to the top of the tower and explained the situation.
"We don't have much time, so listen up. The power's out at the Church of St. Francis of Assisi because of the weather, and they need help getting everything back in order for Midnight Mass."
Chase stood tall. "What's the plan, Ryder?"
"Marshall and Skye, you're both great singers, so you'll work with Stephen and Joseph to fill in for the choir's missing section leaders. Chase and Rubble, you'll help the power company repair the lines around the church—Chase, you'll need to use Marshall's truck with its ladder. Rocky, you and I will work to repair electrical systems at the church. Zuma, I need you at the power station to fire it back up once we're ready."
The dogs barked in unison. Having received their assignments, they raced to St. Francis of Assisi parish, ready to save the day once again.
The wind howled through the icy streets as Chase and Rubble reached the downed power lines near the church. Snowflakes swirled in chaotic flurries, and the cold stung their noses.
Chase, ever the professional, assessed the situation with a stern gaze. "We've got to clear the debris before we can even think about fixing these lines," he said, motioning to a large fallen branch entangled in the wires.
Rubble nodded, pulling out his paw-sized tools and a small grappling hook. "On it!" he said, though his breath formed nervous clouds in the frigid air. He used his strength to yank the branch free, muscles straining as the icy bark resisted. Finally, with a crack, the branch broke loose, landing with a thud on the snowy ground.
"Great work, Rubble," Chase praised, already setting up the perimeter with reflective cones. "Now, we need to stabilize the pole before reconnecting the wires."
As Rubble hauled heavy support equipment into place, Chase climbed the fire truck's ladder, expertly maneuvering the lines back into position. Despite the storm, his motions were precise and methodical.
Below, Rubble muttered, "Man, Chase makes this look so easy…"
Chase glanced down, sensing Rubble's hesitation. "You're doing great, Rubble. This is a two-dog job, and I couldn't do it without you."
Encouraged, Rubble grinned and secured the final support. "Alright, let's get these lights back on!"
"Easy," Chase chuckled at Rubble's enthusiasm. "We have a few more lines to check, and Ryder and Rocky have to make sure everything's good to go at St. Francis…"
Up in the choir loft in the rear of the church, the air was heavy with the anticipation of Midnight Mass, yet the absence of power cast an eerie stillness over the space.
Candles flickered in the loft, where Marshall and Skye stood among the gathered singers, flanked by two violinists, two flutists, and a cellist. Stephen Luds adjusted his music stand, his baton poised as he glanced toward Joseph, who sat at the silent organ, playing the Kyrie from Charpentier's Mass in a whispery pantomime for rehearsal purposes.
"Alright, everyone," Stephen began, his voice calm but resolute, "we don't have much time, and Midnight Mass must be perfect. We'll rehearse as best we can—and I'm sure that our PAW Patrol friends will have the power back on for the Mass itself. Marshall, Skye, thank you for stepping into the void left behind by our section leaders; everyone, say a prayer for their recovery as they're dealing with laryngitis."
"I hope we're ready for this," Marshall said apprehensively.
Stephen gave a comforting smile. "Just follow my direction, and we'll make this work."
Marshall's paws fidgeted as he clutched the music in front of him. "No pressure, right?" he muttered nervously.
Skye leaned closer, her soprano confidence radiating as she whispered, "Don't worry, Marshall. Just stay with me—we've got this."
The first haunting notes of the violins cut through the hushed room, the cellist joining with a warm, resonant tone. The flutes entered next, their airy voices weaving a delicate counterpoint that danced above the strings. The choir began, their voices rising like a prayer: "Kyrie eleison…"
Skye led the sopranos with a clarity that pierced the dim atmosphere, her voice blending effortlessly with the violin's melody. Beside her, Marshall found his tenor footing, his voice steadying with each passing measure. The harmony swelled, filling the church despite the lack of electricity, and Joseph moved silently in time, his hands and feet mimicking the organ keys he longed to play.
Stephen's baton swept gracefully through the air, his eyes sparkling with pride as he saw the ensemble coming together. "Excellent!" he called out as the final phrase echoed through the sanctuary. "Marshall, that tenor line was spot on. And Skye—magnificent work on those high phrases. Let's run that again; everyone, watch your diction!"
As they launched into the Kyrie again, the music seemed to transcend the limitations of the situation, each note a testament to their determination to create something beautiful for Midnight Mass.
Meanwhile, inside the dimly lit nave of the Church of St. Francis, Ryder and Rocky moved carefully among the ornate wooden pews and golden candle stands, trying not to make too noise and disturb the choir rehearsal. The grandeur of the church contrasted sharply with the sense of dread resulting from the lack of power.
"Everything electrical-related is gonna be down in the undercroft," Father Chris explained as he led Ryder and Rocky past the Nativity scene and through a door. They moved through the sacristy and finally came to a staircase.
"Right down there," Father Chris said. "I have to say, it's an honor to have you here at our parish. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."
"Me too, Father," Ryder replied. "But, here we are."
Father Chris nodded. "Yes. Now, I'll let you get to work. I'll be around—please shout if you need anything."
Ryder and Rocky descended the stairs into the undercroft, using a flashlight to find their way around. Rocky examined the main circuit box, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Looks like some fuses blew when the power went out. Good thing I always have spares."
Ryder held the flashlight steady, casting a soft glow over Rocky's workspace. "Can we get it back up and running?"
Rocky nodded. "I think so. But first, we need to check the wiring. No use replacing fuses if the cables are fried."
As Ryder handed him a tester, the faint hum of the choir rehearsing echoed in the background, mixing with the creak of the ancient building. "You've got this, Rocky," Ryder said. "Take it one step at a time."
Rocky smiled faintly, comforted by Ryder's calm demeanor. Together, they methodically worked through the repairs. When Rocky finally slid the new fuses into place, the soft click was met with a low, hopeful hum from the system.
"Well, that's a good sign," Rocky murmured. "Just a few more to fix…"
At the power station, Zuma stood alone against the biting wind. The storm lashed at him, but he remained steadfast, his paw resting on the lever that would restore power to the church.
He glanced up at the gray sky, the clouds parting just enough to reveal a single, bright star. A wave of quiet reflection washed over him. "Christmas," he murmured, "isn't just about lights and music. It's about hope, and being there for each other when it matters most."
"Or maybe…" he thought after a few more moments, "it means something even more than that."
Hearing Rocky's voice crackle over the communicator snapped him back to the moment. "Everything's set. Zuma, you're up!"
With a determined nod, Zuma barked, "On it!" He pulled the lever, and the power surged to life, a warm golden glow lighting the church in the distance.
Back at the church, the lights flickered to life, illuminating the sanctuary in a warm, golden glow. The pipe organ roared to life, its majestic pipes filling the church with sound as Joseph and Stephen ran through a final check of the night's music with the choir.
In the sacristy, Father Chris was getting ready, donning his golden Christmas vestments. When he heard the music from the loft, he clasped his hands together in relief, saying a quick prayer of thanksgiving. "We're ready."
The church was quiet as hundreds gathered, waiting for the Mass to begin. Ryder, Katie, and the PAW Patrol squeezed into a pew together (minus Marshall and Skye, who were up in the choir loft) in eager anticipation.
At the stroke of midnight, the booming voice of the choir's bass section leader rung out as he chanted the Christmas Proclamation:
The Twenty-fifth Day of December,
when ages beyond number had run their course
from the creation of the world,
when God in the beginning created heaven and earth,
and formed man in his own likeness;
when century upon century had passed
since the Almighty set his bow in the clouds after the Great Flood,
as a sign of covenant and peace;
in the twenty-first century since Abraham, our father in faith,
came out of Ur of the Chaldees;
in the thirteenth century since the People of Israel were led by Moses
in the Exodus from Egypt;
around the thousandth year since David was anointed King;
in the sixty-fifth week of the prophecy of Daniel;
in the one hundred and ninety-fourth Olympiad;
in the year seven hundred and fifty-two
since the foundation of the City of Rome;
in the forty-second year of the reign of Caesar Octavian Augustus,
the whole world being at peace,
JESUS CHRIST, eternal God and Son of the eternal Father,
desiring to consecrate the world by his most loving presence,
was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
and when nine months had passed since his conception,
was born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem of Judah,
and was made man:
The Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to the flesh.
At the conclusion of the Proclamation, the organ began to sound as Joseph played a stirring introduction to the hymn O Come, All Ye Faithful.
Voices rose as the congregation sang the hymn with great gusto while Father Chris processed into the church, along with a deacon and an army of altar boys. Father Chris was carrying a figure of the Baby Jesus.
The music came to a stop as the procession reached the Nativity scene at the end of one of the church's aisles.
"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," Father Chris proclaimed, followed by an "Amen" from the congregation.
Father Chris continued, "My brothers and sisters, listen to the words of the Holy Gospel according to Luke." Father Chris then proclaimed the story of the birth of Jesus, as told in the second chapter of Luke's Gospel.
After the reading, Father Chris tenderly placed the figure of the Infant Jesus in the manger and said a blessing over the Nativity scene.
When the blessing was concluded, the organ fired up again and the congregation sang the remaining verses of the hymn. There was not a person present without chills as the hymn's final verse reached its climax, the congregation singing, "Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing."
As the liturgy unfolded, Ryder and the PAW Patrol began to understand that Christmas meant something bigger than they had previously imagined.
When it came time for Holy Communion, Father Chris reminded the congregation that practicing Catholics were welcome to come forward to receive the Eucharist, but non-Catholic guests should instead come forward with their arms crossed over their chest to receive a blessing.
As Ryder approached, Father Chris smiled warmly and said, "May the Lord bless you and keep you," while making the Sign of the Cross on the boy's forehead. Ryder felt a warmth in his heart as he and the dogs with him returned to their pew.
At the end of Mass, Father Chris addressed the standing congregation. "Tonight was a reminder that even in the face of challenges, we can come together to create something beautiful. Thank you to everyone who made this possible, especially our friends from the PAW Patrol."
The crowd erupted into applause. The team stood together, their hearts full as they basked in the joy of the season. Father Chris wished everyone a merry Christmas, and the congregation then bowed their heads for the final blessing.
"May Almighty God bless you, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."
The congregation responded with a resounding "Amen," and the priest, deacon, and altar servers recessed out of the church accompanied by singing of the hymn, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing.
After the triumphant refrain of "Glory to the newborn King!" resounded through the church, Ryder took a deep breath before turning to the dogs beside him.
"That was… incredible," Chase said, his voice low with reverence. He glanced at the grand altar and crucifix, still illuminated by the soft glow of the candles, and then to Ryder. "Thank you for bringing us here."
"I don't think I've ever heard anything so beautiful," Katie added, her eyes reflecting the flicker of the lanterns lining the sanctuary. "The music, the lights—it felt like… heaven."
Rubble, still in awe of the massive pipe organ, wagged his tail. "I can't believe we helped make this happen. Did you hear that organ? It was like the sound of the stars."
Rocky nodded, his usually practical demeanor giving way to awe. "It's kind of amazing, isn't it? Seeing how everything we did came together."
Zuma, standing with a thoughtful expression, chimed in, "I think…I think I know now what Christmas is really about."
Ryder smiled, placing a hand on Zuma's shoulder. "Me too, Zuma."
At that moment, as people were shuffling out of the church, Marshall and Skye, along with Joseph, came down from the choir loft and met the rest of the PAW Patrol as they were leaving their pew.
"Hey, we did it!" Joseph beamed. "Thanks so much for helping us make this Midnight Mass our best ever! Marshall and Skye did a great job in the choir. I hope it was as special for you all as it was for me."
Ryder and the dogs voiced their enjoyment of the music of the Mass, all saying that it was a beautiful and inspiring experience.
Outside the church, they were greeted by Father Chris, who thanked the team heartily and wished them a merry Christmas.
Once the team had arrived back at the Lookout, Ryder turned to them, a happy expression on his face. "I'm proud of all of you. You all worked together to help create something beautiful for everyone against near impossible odds, and I'm honored to have shared the beauty of the Midnight Mass with you all."
"We couldn't do it without your leadership, Ryder," Chase replied.
Ryder smiled. "Well, I think it's time for bed. Let's all camp out in the lobby tonight!"
The dogs hooted and howled excitedly as they ran to retrieve their bedding from their doghouses.
As the team gathered in the Lookout lobby to settle in for the night, the warmth of the glowing fire and the soft hum of the season's joy surrounded them. Blankets were spread out, and cushions were piled high, creating a cozy campout atmosphere.
Chase wandered over to where Skye was adjusting her blanket. She looked up as he approached, her eyes sparkling with the soft light of the fire.
"Quite a night, huh?" Chase said, his voice quieter than usual.
Skye smiled, her tail wagging gently. "More than quite a night. I think it's one I'll never forget. Midnight Mass was… well, amazing."
Chase nodded, his gaze momentarily dropping to the floor. "You were amazing. The way you led the choir tonight—it was like you've been doing it your whole life."
Skye's cheeks seemed to flush, though the warmth of the room made it hard to tell. "Thanks, Chase. That means a lot. But you know," she added, her tone softening, "we couldn't have done it without you, either. The way you kept things calm during the power repairs… it's like you're the glue that holds us all together."
Chase's ears flicked back slightly, and a shy smile spread across his face. "I just like making sure everyone's safe and that things go smoothly."
"And you're really good at it," Skye replied, her voice tender. "I think we all feel safer because of you. I know I feel safe when I'm around you."
Chase hesitated for a moment, then gave a small laugh. "Well, I guess that's my job."
Skye reached out and gave him a playful nudge with her paw. "It's more than a job, Chase. It's who you are."
For a moment, the two were quiet, the soft crackling of the fire filling the space between them. The light in Chase's eyes betrayed how much her words meant to him. "You're something special, you know that?"
"And don't you forget it," Skye replied, laughing softly before adjusting her blanket and settling in.
"Merry Christmas, Skye," Chase said softly.
Skye giggled. "Merry Christmas, Chase."
The two pressed their heads together and enjoyed each other's warmth.
As the rest of the team found their places and the firelight danced across the walls, the Lookout was filled with a rare and peaceful stillness. It had been a long and extraordinary day, but as they drifted into a comfortable silence, each knew they had shared something truly special.
For many Christmases to come, the PAW Patrol would look back and remember fondly the night they saved Midnight Mass.
Chapter Text
The first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Katie's pet parlor, casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The air was filled with the soothing hum of running water and the faint scent of lavender shampoo. Rocky sat stiffly on the grooming table, his tail tucked and his ears low, but his eyes held a determined gleam.
"Alright, Rocky," Katie said gently, her tone a mixture of encouragement and understanding. "We'll get this done quickly, okay?" She adjusted the spray nozzle, testing the temperature of the water before directing it onto Rocky's fur.
As the first splash hit him, Rocky instinctively flinched, his paws gripping the edge of the table. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "It's okay," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "I can handle this."
Katie worked with practiced efficiency, her hands moving swiftly to lather Rocky's fur. "You're doing great," she said softly. "Almost done."
The warm water and Katie's soothing presence gradually eased Rocky's tension. When the final rinse was complete, he hopped down from the table and shook himself, sending droplets flying. Katie handed him a towel, smiling. "See? Not so bad."
Zuma trotted over, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey, dude," he said, tilting his head. "How come you're okay with bath day but totally freak out when you get wet otherwise?"
Rocky hesitated, glancing at Katie, who gave him an encouraging nod. "It's different when I know it's coming," Rocky explained. "I can prepare myself. But when it happens unexpectedly, it's like… I lose control. And that's when the panic kicks in."
Zuma's expression softened, a rare seriousness settling over him. "That's deep, dude. Thanks for telling me."
Rocky offered a small, appreciative smile. "No problem."
The Lookout was unusually quiet that afternoon, the team scattered around the lobby, enjoying the peaceful lull. The soft murmur of the radio provided a comforting backdrop to their conversations. But the tranquility shattered when a news anchor's voice cut through the air.
"Breaking news: A man has been arrested in Adventure Bay for murder by drowning. The suspect, identified as Martin Cassio…"
The name barely registered with the others, but Rocky froze, his body going rigid. His ears pinned back, and his breath quickened. Without a word, he rose and walked to his doghouse, his movements mechanical and stiff.
The team exchanged puzzled glances, their concern growing. Chase was the first to speak. "Something's wrong. We need to check on him."
The team and Ryder gathered outside Rocky's doghouse, their concern evident. Ryder knocked gently on the door. "Rocky? It's us. Can we come in?"
There was a long pause before Rocky's voice came, quiet and heavy. "Yeah. Come in."
Inside, Rocky sat curled up on his bed, his gaze distant and his tail tucked tightly against his body. The usually vibrant dog looked smaller, as if the weight of something unseen had pressed him into himself.
"That man they arrested," Rocky began, his voice trembling, "he was my owner before I came here."
The revelation hit like a thunderclap. The air seemed to thicken, the team's usual chatter replaced by stunned silence. Ryder knelt beside Rocky, his eyes filled with empathy. "What happened, Rocky?"
Rocky's voice wavered as he began to speak, each word a struggle. "You already know that he hurt me… a lot. Often. But what I never told you is that one day, he tried to drown me. I don't know... But I managed to get away. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. That's when I heard about you, Ryder. You gave me a new home, a new purpose. But hearing his name today… it brought everything back."
The team listened in silence, their hearts breaking for their friend. Ryder placed a comforting hand on Rocky's shoulder. "I'm so sorry you went through that. What can we do to help you?"
Rocky hesitated, his eyes meeting Ryder's. "I think… I think I need to see him. I don't know if I can forgive him, but I need to face him."
The team exchanged uneasy glances. Skye was the first to voice her concern. "Are you sure? That could be really hard on you."
Zuma nodded, his usual lightheartedness replaced with solemnity. "Yeah, dude. I don't want you to get hurt again."
Marshall's tone was quieter, more contemplative. "But if it's what you need… I think it's really brave."
Chase stepped forward, his voice firm. "Whatever you decide, we're here for you."
Ryder nodded. "If this is what you need, we'll do it together."
The local jail loomed ahead, its cold, gray walls standing stark against the wintry landscape. Ryder parked his ATV, and together with Rocky, approached the heavy steel doors. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on both of them.
Inside, a gruff but polite guard greeted them. "Well, I'll be. Ryder and Rocky of the PAW Patrol. They told me you have an appointment to visit Martin?"
Ryder nodded. "Yes. Rocky… he was one of Martin's victims."
The guard's expression softened, and he gestured for them to follow. The hallways were stark and unwelcoming, the cold fluorescent lighting casting harsh shadows. When they reached the visitation room, the guard turned to them. "You sure about this?"
Rocky glanced at Ryder, who gave him a reassuring nod. "Yeah. I'm sure."
The room was empty save for a glass partition and a few chairs. Ryder knelt beside Rocky, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone. I'll be right here."
The door on the other side opened, and Martin entered, escorted by an officer. His orange jumpsuit hung loosely on his frame, and his face bore the wear of years of anger and regret. His eyes hardened when they landed on Rocky.
"Well, well," Martin sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "If it isn't the mutt that got away."
Rocky flinched but quickly steadied himself. Taking a deep breath, he met Martin's gaze. "Yeah, I got away. And thank God I did, because now I have a family and a purpose."
Martin's laugh was cold and hollow. "So, you came here to gloat? To prove to yourself that you can face the past?" His sneer deepened. "Let me tell you something: you can fool yourself all you want, but the past never goes away. I'm guessing—no, I'm sure—that you can't even take a bath without thinking of me, can you?"
Rocky's scowl deepened, his voice firm. "You're jealous. You can only change lives by hurting people—it's the only way you can make a difference. Together with my family, I've saved lives. I've made a difference for the better, and I'm just getting started. I'll spend the rest of my life helping the people of Adventure Bay and doing good, and you'll spend the rest of yours sitting in a cell."
Martin's smug expression faltered, his sneer fading into a momentary flicker of regret. He opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of Rocky's words sank in. He turned his gaze to the table, avoiding Rocky's piercing stare.
The guard stepped into the room, signaling that the visit was over. "Time's up."
Martin was escorted out without another word, his posture tense. Rocky watched him go, a storm of emotions swirling within him—relief, anger, sadness, and a newfound sense of closure.
Ryder crouched beside him, his voice gentle. "How do you feel?"
Rocky's eyes stayed fixed on the door where Martin had disappeared. After a long moment, he replied, "I just want to go home."
Ryder nodded, placing a comforting hand on Rocky's back. "Let's go."
As they entered the lobby of the Lookout, Ryder walked slightly ahead, giving Rocky space. The warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the cold steel of the jail. The familiar sights and scents should have been comforting, but Rocky's steps were heavy.
Suddenly, his voice came out, quiet and shaky. "Ryder…"
Ryder turned just in time to see Rocky's face crumble. Without hesitation, Ryder knelt down and wrapped Rocky in his arms as the dog finally let go of the emotions he'd been holding back. Rocky sobbed into Ryder's shoulder, his body trembling as years of buried pain surfaced.
They stayed like that for several minutes, Ryder's arms steady and protective. He whispered reassurances, his tone calm and unwavering. "You're safe now. You're loved. It's over."
Rocky's cries gradually subsided into quiet sniffles. He pulled back slightly, meeting Ryder's kind eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "For everything."
Ryder smiled softly, brushing a paw over Rocky's head. "You're part of our family, Rocky. We'll always be here for you."
Upstairs in the Lookout tower, the rest of the team waited anxiously. Chase paced near the elevator, his ears twitching at every sound. Skye sat close to Rubble, her paw placed on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Marshall fidgeted with his paws, while Zuma stared silently out the window.
"I hope he's okay," Rubble murmured.
"He's stronger than he thinks," Skye said softly. "But I wish we could do more."
The elevator dinged, and the team turned as one. When the doors opened, Ryder and Rocky stepped out. Rocky's eyes were tired, but there was a new strength in his posture. The team rushed forward, surrounding him in a group hug.
"You're so brave, Rocky!" Marshall said, his voice full of admiration.
"We're so proud of you, dude," Zuma added, his tail wagging.
Chase placed a steady paw on Rocky's shoulder. "If you ever need anything, you can always count on us."
Rocky's gaze softened as he looked around at his family. "Thanks, guys. I… I couldn't have done this without you."
Ryder gently cleared his throat. "Let's give Rocky some space to rest. It's been a long day."
Rocky shook his head, a small smile on his face. "It's okay. I needed that hug. And I'm really grateful for all of you."
At the morning briefing, the team gathered around the mission monitor. Rocky sat among them, looking visibly lighter than the day before. Ryder stood at the front, his voice steady and warm. "Good morning, PAW Patrol. Before we get started, Rocky, how are you doing today?"
Rocky straightened, his tail wagging. "I'm good, thanks to all of you. Ready for whatever comes next!"
Ryder's smile widened. "Good, because we've got a mission…"
The team sprang into action as Ryder explained the new rescue. Within moments, Rocky, Rubble, and Ryder were racing out of the Lookout, ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, it cast a golden glow over the snowy town. Rocky glanced at his friends and family, his heart full of gratitude. He wasn't just surviving—he was thriving. And he knew, no matter what came next, he would never have to face it alone.
Chapter 8: Chase's Perfect Day
Chapter Text
The sky above Adventure Bay was a soft, cloudless blue, and a gentle breeze carried a sweet hint of spring through the air. The unseasonably warm Valentine's Day had everyone in town shedding their coats and basking in the sunshine. It was the kind of day that made you believe in romance—and Chase intended to make the most of it.
At the Lookout, the PAW Patrol was gathered in the main room, where Ryder had called them together for a morning briefing. But Chase was distracted. His mind was racing as he mentally reviewed his plans for the perfect Valentine's Day with Skye.
First, a walk along the beach. Then a picnic on the Lookout lawn, complete with Skye's favorite snacks. After that, they'd freshen up before meeting at the park to watch the sunset. Everything had to be flawless.
Chase stole a glance at Skye, who was listening intently to Ryder. She looked radiant, her tail wagging slightly as the morning sunlight streamed through the window and lit up her fur. Chase felt his heart skip a beat.
When Ryder dismissed the team, Chase approached Skye, trying to appear casual. "Hey, Skye, are you free this afternoon?"
Skye tilted her head, her pink goggles catching the light. "Of course! What's up?"
Chase smiled, his tail wagging. "I thought we could spend the day together. I've got a few things planned, if you're interested."
Skye's eyes sparkled, and she grinned. "That sounds amazing, Chase. I'd love to!"
As Skye bounded off to grab breakfast, Chase couldn't help but smile to himself. "Step one: complete," he muttered.
While Chase's plans for the day were falling into place, Marshall sat alone in the gear room, absentmindedly pawing at a ball. Over the past few weeks, he'd noticed that Chase had been spending more time with Skye. He wasn't upset—they were clearly happy together—but he couldn't ignore the pang of loneliness that tugged at his heart.
As Chase passed by, he stopped in his tracks, noticing his best friend sitting quietly. "Hey, Marshall! What's up?"
Marshall looked up and managed a smile. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking."
Chase's ears flicked back, sensing something was wrong. "Thinking about what?"
Marshall hesitated, then sighed. "You've been spending a lot of time with Skye lately, and that's great! I just… miss hanging out with you, that's all."
Chase felt a pang of guilt. Marshall had always been his closest friend, and he hadn't meant to make him feel left out. "Marshall, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you felt that way."
Marshall quickly shook his head. "It's fine, really! I'm happy for you two. I guess I'm just being silly."
But Chase wasn't convinced. He made a mental note to make it up to his friend.
The soft hum of dryers and the gentle purring of a contented cat filled Katie's pet parlor as Ryder pushed the door open. A box wrapped in sleek gold paper and tied with a crimson ribbon sat cradled in his hands. He stepped inside, the bell above the door jingling softly.
"Hey, Katie," Ryder greeted with a warm smile.
Katie looked up from brushing Callie's fur, her face brightening for a moment before her gaze fell on the box in Ryder's hands. Her expression shifted ever so slightly. "Oh, hey, Ryder," she said, her tone light but just a touch uneasy.
Without much fanfare, Ryder held out the gift. "This is for you," he said simply.
Katie blinked, setting her brush aside to take the box. "Oh… wow. Thanks, Ryder."
She untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper, revealing a delicate charm bracelet nestled inside. The charms were thoughtful: a tiny paw print, a miniature comb, and a couple of other little trinkets.
Katie's smile tightened as she traced a finger over the charms. "It's beautiful," she murmured, but her voice wavered.
"You like it?" Ryder asked, his head tilting slightly in concern.
"Yeah, it's… really nice," Katie replied, though her eyes darted toward the back room. "I, uh, actually need to finish up back there. Lots of appointments today." She gave a quick, forced smile. "Thanks again, Ryder. Really."
Ryder hesitated, the unease in her voice tugging at him, but he simply nodded. "Sure. I'll let you get back to it."
Katie quickly disappeared into the back, leaving Ryder standing there, the jingling bell above the door echoing in his ears as he stepped outside, puzzled. Something wasn't quite right.
Before leaving to meet Skye at the park, Chase found Marshall in the courtyard in front of the Lookout. "Hey, Marshall! Can I talk to you real quick?"
Marshall trotted over, his tail wagging curiously. "What's up?"
Chase grinned. "I've been thinking. You're my best friend, and I don't want you to feel left out. So, I'm officially declaring February 15th Best Friends' Day. Tomorrow, it's just you and me—fire drills, movies, whatever you want. Sound good?"
Marshall's eyes lit up. "Really? That sounds awesome!"
Chase chuckled. "Great. I'll see you in the morning."
Marshall barked happily, and Chase felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
Inside the Lookout, Ryder leaned against the counter in the lobby, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. Zuma padded over, his usual laid-back demeanor a sharp contrast to Ryder's thoughtful expression.
"Yo, Ryder, what's up?" Zuma asked, tilting his head.
Ryder sighed. "I gave Katie a gift earlier to thank her for everything she does to help us out, but she acted… weird. I don't know what I did wrong."
Zuma's ears perked up. "What kind of gift?"
"A nice little charm bracelet I thought she'd like," Ryder replied, frowning.
Zuma chuckled softly. "Dude, you're like a genius, so just think about this for a second. You gave her a charm bracelet… on Valentine's Day."
Ryder's eyes widened. "Wait—it's Valentine's Day?"
Zuma grinned, his tail wagging. "Yep. I bet Katie thought you were asking her out."
Ryder groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Crap! I didn't even think about that. I need to fix this."
Zuma gave him an encouraging nudge. "Just tell her the truth. Katie's cool—she'll get it."
Ryder rushed out of the Lookout and onto his ATV, racing back to Katie's pet grooming parlor.
As the last rays of sunlight faded into dusk, Ryder made his way back to the pet parlor. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped inside, the golden glow of the shop's interior casting warm shadows.
Katie looked up from sweeping the floor, her face a mixture of surprise and apprehension. "Ryder? Hey."
Ryder offered a sheepish smile. "Hey. I wanted to talk to you about earlier. I think I might've given you the wrong impression."
Katie set the broom aside, folding her arms. "Okay…"
Ryder took a deep breath. "The gift wasn't meant to be romantic or anything. I honestly didn't even realize it was Valentine's Day until Zuma pointed it out. It was just a thank you for everything you do—for me and the team. That's all."
Katie blinked, her posture relaxing as relief washed over her face. "Oh… okay. That makes sense. I mean, I did kind of wonder…" She trailed off, laughing awkwardly.
Ryder grinned. "Yeah, sorry for the confusion."
Katie's expression softened, and a warm smile spread across her face. "No harm done. And, well… I should tell you something too. I'm actually seeing someone—well, you know Joseph, the organist at St. Francis. We've been going out for a few weeks now."
Ryder's eyebrows rose in surprise before his grin widened. "Joseph? That's great, Katie. He's a really good guy."
Katie nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Thanks. And, uh, thanks again for the gift. It was really thoughtful."
"You're welcome," Ryder replied simply.
The two shared a moment of quiet, the tension from earlier melting away. As Ryder turned to leave, Katie called out, "Hey, Ryder?"
He paused at the door, glancing back. "Yeah?"
"You're a great friend. Thanks for always looking out for me."
Ryder smiled warmly. "Right back at you, Katie. See you later."
The bell jingled as Ryder stepped out into the cool evening air, a lightness in his step. The misunderstanding had been cleared, and their friendship was as strong as ever. One day, the two best friends knew they would look back and have a hearty laugh at the whole situation.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold, Chase and Skye sat together on a blanket at the park. The warm breeze carried the faint scent of flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves added a soothing rhythm to the moment.
"This day has been perfect," Skye said softly, leaning into Chase's side. "Thank you for planning all this."
"You know me," Chase replied, "I love to plan things."
Skye giggled. "I know. It's what you do best. But I want to plan our next special date. Deal?"
Chase smiled. "I can't wait."
After a few moments of silence, Chase spoke up again, his heart pounding. "Skye, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Skye tilted her head, curious. "What is it?"
Chase took a deep breath. "Will you… be my girlfriend?"
For a moment, Skye just stared at him, her eyes wide. Then she burst out laughing. "Chase, I kind of thought I already was!"
Chase's cheeks burned under his fur. "Well, yeah, but I just wanted to make it… official, I guess."
Skye giggled, her laughter softening into a warm smile. "You're really sweet for asking me that, even though you didn't have to."
She leaned in and licked his cheek, her touch light and affectionate. Chase blushed even more, but his tail wagged uncontrollably. He leaned closer, nuzzling her gently in return.
The two sat in peaceful silence, Skye resting her head on Chase's shoulder as the sun disappeared behind the hills, leaving the world bathed in the soft glow of twilight.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Chase," Skye murmured.
Chase chuckled. "Happy Valentine's Day, Skye."
They stayed there together as the stars began to appear, their hearts full of happiness and love.
Chapter Text
The late February wind swept through Adventure Bay, its brisk currents carrying the faint scent of saltwater and slightest hints of the coming spring. Ryder parked his ATV outside a quaint café nestled near the town's main street. The small café was known for its warm atmosphere, a perfect refuge on a chilly day. Inside, Ryder spotted Joseph Gallius, the assistant organist at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, seated at a table near the window.
"Hey, Ryder!" Joseph greeted him warmly, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.
Ryder joined him, shaking off the cold as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. "Thanks for inviting me, Joseph. It's nice to catch up."
"My pleasure—thanks for joining me! What's the team up to today?"
"You wouldn't believe it, Joseph: we've actually got nothing on the agenda today," Ryder chuckled. "So, Skye is having a 'girls' day' with Katie and everyone else is taking it easy at the Lookout."
Joseph smiled. "You guys deserve it. I saw the story on the news about you all saving those people stranded in the Bay. I just can't believe there were no serious injuries; when I saw the live coverage showing that boat on fire… well, I'm just glad everyone's okay."
"It was a tough case," Ryder nodded, "but that's my team for you—they get it done. I'm so proud of them."
"As you should be," Joseph replied.
After some more light conversation about music and upcoming church events, Joseph leaned forward slightly, his tone more serious but still friendly. "So, Ryder, how's OCIA going?"
Ryder took a sip of his coffee, his gaze drifting out the window for a moment. "It's going well. I'm learning a lot, but…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I'm struggling with some of the bigger ideas—especially the Eucharist. How can something that looks like bread actually be the real Body of Jesus?"
Joseph's expression softened with understanding. "That's a tough one, Ryder, and you're not alone in struggling with it. Belief in the Eucharist isn't something you figure out with logic alone. It's something the Holy Spirit reveals in His own time. Be patient."
Ryder nodded slowly, but his brow furrowed. "I appreciate that, but I feel like I need more clarity."
Joseph offered a reassuring smile. "Why don't you talk to Father Chris? He has a way of making the mysteries of the faith feel more... accessible."
Ryder brightened a little. "That's a great idea. I'll head over to the rectory before I go home. Thanks, Joseph."
At the Lookout, the flagpole swayed slightly in the gusting wind, the PAW Patrol flag tangled tightly around the pole like a stubborn vine. Chase stood at the base, his sharp eyes analyzing the situation.
"This won't do," he muttered. The flag, once a proud symbol of their unity and service, now hung in disarray. Lowering the flag with practiced ease, Chase inspected the knotted fabric. He gave it a firm tug, but the wind tightened the knot even further.
As he tried to fix the flag again, it whipped around and him in the face. Somehow, the flag also hoisted itself back to the top of the pole.
Chase narrowed his eyes. "So, that's how it's going to be…"
The rectory of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church was warm and inviting, with polished wooden furniture and bookshelves filled with theological texts. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting soft patterns on the floor.
Father Chris leaned back in his chair, his kind eyes fixed on Ryder. "It's good to see you, Ryder. How can I help?"
Ryder hesitated, then spoke with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "I've been struggling with the idea of the Eucharist. I want to believe in it, but I just… don't get it."
Father Chris listened intently, nodding. "You're asking one of the most profound questions of the faith. The Eucharist is a mystery that transcends understanding—it requires trust in the Lord's promise. Our Lord says in John's Gospel, chapter six…"
But then Father Chris trailed off. He knew that Ryder, an outstanding student who memorized everything he read, knew the Scriptures better than almost anyone. He knew the Bread of Life discourse in John's Gospel but still doubted, so quoting it now would be of little help.
"Have you ever spent time in Adoration?" the priest asked simply, taking another angle.
Ryder shook his head. "I've heard about it, but I've never gone."
Father Chris smiled. "Adoration is a beautiful way to sit in the presence of Jesus and open your heart to Him. On Thursday nights, we hold overnight Adoration in the Chapel of Our Lady's Sorrows. It's a peaceful place to pray and reflect. I think it might help."
Ryder considered this, his expression softening. "I'll be there. Thank you, Father."
As Ryder stood to leave, Father Chris stopped him. "Ryder, please remember something. Even you cannot fully understand the mysteries of God. And if you could, would He be worthy of the name 'God'?"
Meanwhile, at the Lookout, Chase was still battling the tangled flag when Marshall and Zuma approached.
"Need some help, Chase?" Marshall asked cheerfully, his tail wagging.
Chase sighed, stepping back. "Be my guest."
Marshall examined the knot and brightened. "I've got it! Water makes everything slippery!" He aimed his water cannon at the knot, but instead of loosening it, he ended up soaking Chase.
"Marshall!" Chase barked, shaking himself dry.
"Oops," Marshall said sheepishly.
Zuma stepped forward, chuckling. "Let me try, dude." He leapt onto the flagpole and began shimmying up. The wind, however, had other plans, and Zuma slid back down with an "Oof!" each time.
Rubble wandered over, scratching his head. "Why don't we use my bulldozer to boost Zuma up?"
The plan seemed solid (if one ignored the fact that Marshall's ladder would have been much easier), but as Zuma climbed into the scoop, the wind picked up again, sending the flag flapping wildly and leaving Zuma tangled halfway up the pole.
"Zuma, you okay?" Marshall called.
"Yeah, I'm good," Zuma replied before fidgeting for a few moments and then stopping. "… um, guys… I'm stuck."
Chase growled. "I will not lose to this flag."
The Chapel of Our Lady's Sorrows was a small, radiating space off the sanctuary of St. Francis Church. The walls were adorned with simple carvings of the Stations of the Cross, and the centerpiece was a life-sized statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. She stood in quiet mourning, her eyes cast downward and seven swords piercing her heart—a poignant symbol of her grief at her Son's Passion.
Ryder entered the chapel just after 9:00pm, the silence enveloping him like a warm blanket. No one else was in the chapel. On the altar, the golden monstrance sat veiled, as the Blessed Sacrament is never to be left exposed and unattended.
Ryder approached reverently, lifting the veil to reveal the Eucharist. He took a seat in a wooden pew, his gaze fixed on the Host.
Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the faint crackle of candles. Ryder's thoughts swirled, doubt and hope clashing within him. Finally, he whispered, "Jesus, I want to believe, but I need your help. So, if you're here… please show me."
In that moment, an unexplainable warmth filled his heart. It was as if the very air had changed, heavy with an indescribable presence. To the eye, the Host sat benign in its display on the altar, but to the heart, the Most Holy Eucharist shone as a beacon illuminating all that is good and beautiful.
Ryder was certain, beyond logic or reason, that he was in the presence of Jesus. Tears welled in his eyes, and his doubts dissolved.
Back at the Lookout, Chase, Marshall, Zuma, and Rubble stood in defeat beneath the flagpole. The dream team had managed to get the flag back down to the bottom of the pole, but it remained tangled, flapping mockingly in the wind despite its low altitude.
Rocky strolled up, a curious look on his face. "What's going on?"
Chase gestured to the flag. "It's stuck. We've tried everything."
Rocky looked at the flag for a moment, then he walked to the other side of the pole, calmly tugged the flag from a different angle, and set it free. The team stared in stunned silence as Rocky hoisted the flag back up.
"Why didn't anyone think to pull from this side?" Rocky asked, walking away with a grin.
The others stood slackjawed.
"Dude…" Zuma gaped. "If people heard about this, no one would ever call us for help again."
Chase facepawed. "I won't tell Ryder about this if you guys don't tell Skye."
"Tell me what?"
Chase yelped as Skye's voice surprised him, having returned from her girls' day with Katie.
"Uhhh…" Chase quickly thought of an excuse. "T-tell you… how much I missed seeing you today! It's been so… boring without you here."
"Aw," Skye blushed. "You're sweet, Chase." She nuzzled Chase before entering the Lookout.
"Nice save," Marshall elbowed Chase when Skye was out of earshot.
Ryder returned to the Lookout just after 11:00pm, his steps light despite the late hour. In the dimly lit lobby, he found Rocky sipping water by the fountain.
Rocky tilted his head. "Hey, Ryder. What were you doing out so late?"
Ryder smiled softly. "Looking for something."
Rocky raised an eyebrow. "Well, did you find it?"
Ryder's smile widened, peace radiating from him. "Yeah, I did. Good night, Rocky."
"Good night, Ryder," Rocky replied, watching his leader retire to his quarters in peace.
As Ryder lay in bed that night, the memory of his time in the chapel filled him with an overwhelming sense of peace. The image of the Sacred Host and the sorrowful statue of Mary lingered in his mind, a reminder that his journey into the Catholic faith was leading him toward the truth.
"Jesus," he said softly as he drifted to sleep, "thank you for being there."
Outside, the PAW Patrol flag fluttered freely, a quiet testament to the day's victories—both earthly and spiritual.
Notes:
If you've read The Tusk and this is a little familiar... well, that's because the Eucharist is a major part of my life, and so it's a big part of my stories too! Whether you're Catholic or not, I appreciate the platform to share my own experience of the Eucharist with you all through these characters.
Chapter 10: Ryder's Plunge
Chapter Text
The early March sun bathed Adventure Bay in its gentle glow, the last traces of winter clinging to the cold air. Ryder strolled around the Lookout campus, the grass soft beneath his boots and the trees swaying in the breeze. It was a beautiful day—a perfect time to reflect and recharge.
His phone buzzed, disrupting the serene afternoon. He pulled it from his pocket, his face quickly growing serious as he answered.
"This is Ryder."
"Oh, thank goodness!" came a panicked voice on the other end. "I'm a hiker near Clearwater Gorge. A group of campers is stranded on the suspension bridge. It's damaged, and it looks like it only gets worse when one of the campers tries to move. I'm afraid it's not going to hold much longer—you've got to hurry!"
Ryder's heart raced. "We're on our way. Stay safe and keep a good distance from the bridge."
Inside the Lookout, the atmosphere was thick with steam. Zuma luxuriated in a tub of warm, bubbly water while Katie carefully scrubbed behind his ears. Rocky waited nearby, eyeing the bath warily, his tail flicking with unease.
"Almost done, Zuma," Katie said with a grin. "You're such a good boy during bath time."
Zuma wagged his tail, sending ripples through the water. "Dude, I could stay here all day," he sighed contentedly.
Rocky muttered, "Speak for yourself…"
As much as he dreaded bath day, Rocky did take a moment to appreciate the irony of sharing bath day with Zuma, who took any and every chance to be in the water.
Just as Zuma was about to drift off to sleep, Ryder burst into the room, phone in hand. "Guys, we've got an emergency. Campers are trapped on a damaged bridge over Clearwater Gorge. This one is all paws on deck."
"Looks like bath time is over," Katie said. "Good luck, you guys."
Zuma groaned, reluctantly climbing out of the tub. "Man, and I was just starting to relax…"
Rocky, on the other hand, brightened considerably, smirking as he entered the elevator. Saved by the call of duty, he thought to himself.
At the top of the Lookout, the PAW Patrol assembled quickly. Ryder wasted no time, outlining the situation before giving assignments.
"Rocky, Rubble, I need you two to reinforce the bridge as best you can. Chase, you'll direct traffic and point out weak spots. Marshall, be ready to treat any injuries. Skye, keep an eye on things from above. Zuma, be ready by the river in case anyone falls in. I'll coordinate and guide the campers across."
The team barked in unison, racing down the Lookout's slide and mounting their vehicles. Ryder slid down the fire pole and landed in the hanger, mounting and revving up his ATV before leading the charge toward Clearwater Gorge.
From above, Skye's voice came through the communicator. "I can see the gorge ahead! The river's moving fast, and the bridge looks... yikes, it's bad, Ryder."
"Stay sharp, everyone," Ryder responded, his grip tightening on the handlebars as he maneuvered a sharp turn. "This one's going to test us."
The team pressed on, the wind tugging at their fur and the scent of river spray growing stronger as they approached Clearwater Gorge. The roar of the river reached their ears first, a deafening reminder of the danger below. As the broken bridge came into view, the gravity of the situation hit like a tidal wave.
The damaged suspension bridge swayed ominously, its frayed cables straining under the weight of six terrified campers. Wooden planks dangled precariously, and the entire structure groaned with each gust of wind.
The campers were stranded, fear etched into their faces as the bridge swayed precariously. Ryder skidded to a halt and leapt off his ATV, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We've got this. Let's go, team!"
Their assignments clear, the team sprang into action, their movements precise and practiced.
Rocky and Rubble got to work at the base of the bridge. Rocky secured makeshift supports with his tools, sweat beading on his forehead as he tightened bolts and reinforced weak points. Rubble cleared loose debris and positioned heavy beams with his bulldozer, his powerful paws steady on the controls.
"This beam should hold," Rubble grunted, maneuvering it into place. "Rocky, what do you think?"
"It'll buy us some time," Rocky replied, though his voice betrayed his concern.
On the bridge, Ryder approached the first camper—a young girl clutching a teddy bear. He crouched to her eye level, offering a reassuring smile. "I'll walk you across. Just hold my hand and don't look down."
The girl nodded hesitantly, her small hand gripping his tightly. Together, they navigated the swaying bridge, Ryder's calm demeanor soothing her nerves.
From the riverbank, Chase used his megaphone to guide the operation. "Ryder, the left side is weaker. Move to the right," he called out, his sharp eyes scanning the bridge for trouble spots.
Though the PAW Patrol moved quickly, minutes seemed to pass by an hour at a time, the danger of the situation wearing on the nerves of every member of the team.
With five campers safely across, only one remained: an adult man clutching a heavy backpack. As he began to cross, a loud snap echoed through the gorge. One of the main suspension cables broke, sending the bridge into a violent sway.
"It's not gonna hold much longer!" Rocky shouted, his voice urgent as his makeshift supports groaned under mounting pressure.
The man stumbled, his grip slipping. Finally, the bridge buckled beneath his feet, and with a sickening lurch, it gave way entirely. He plunged into the raging river below, too terrified to scream.
Ryder sprinted to the riverbank, his heart pounding as his eyes locked on the spot where the camper disappeared beneath the ferocious current. The river roared with deafening intensity, icy spray misting his face.
For a split second, Ryder froze. The reality of the situation hit him: the river was a churning deathtrap, its currents strong enough to drag even the most experienced swimmer under. He knew the risks—he might not make it out.
But that didn't matter: a life was in danger.
With a deep breath, Ryder made the Sign of the Cross, and then he leapt.
The icy water hit him like a wall, stealing his breath and numbing his muscles instantly. The current yanked him under, spinning him in a chaotic whirlpool of churning whitewater.
Overhead, Skye called into the communicator. "Ryder's in the water! Zuma, back him up!"
Zuma steered his hovercraft into the river, but the powerful current battered the craft. Waves slammed against the hull, causing the motor to sputter and the craft to veer uncontrollably. "This current's too strong!" Zuma called out, his voice strained.
Realizing the hovercraft wasn't viable, Zuma guided it back to shore and leapt out. "Dudes! Does anybody have eyes on Ryder?" he barked, racing along the riverbank, scanning the frothy water.
On the riverbank, the team froze, their breaths catching as the current raged below. Chase's claws dug into the earth, his eyes locked on the churning water. "Come on, Ryder…" he whispered, his usual composure faltering.
Marshall stood motionless. The usually cheerful Dalmatian was uncharacteristically silent, his tail stiff as he stared at the river, willing Ryder to reappear.
Rocky and Rubble trembled. If Ryder didn't make it, they would never forgive themselves. If only the supports lasted one more minute, they both thought.
The roar of the river filled the air, drowning out frantic whispers and pounding hearts. Time felt suspended, the seconds dragging on as the team held their collective breath.
Then, a flash of movement.
Ryder's head broke through the surface, gasping for air, the camper's limp body clutched tightly in his grasp. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he struggled against the relentless current.
"Visual on Ryder and the camper!" Skye reported with both glee and relief in her voice. "They're getting close to the rocks!"
"Chase!" Zuma shouted into his communicator. "Lower the wench! They're almost at the bend!"
Chase acted fast, positioning himself near the water's edge and lowering the wench. Ryder fought through the final stretch of the current, guiding the camper toward the line. With Zuma's help, Ryder secured the camper to the wench, and Chase pulled them both to safety.
On the riverbank, Ryder collapsed beside the camper, his chest heaving. But the camper himself didn't move; in fact, he wasn't breathing.
Wasting no time, Ryder performed CPR, pressing firmly on the camper's chest. After several tense moments, the camper coughed violently, expelling water and gasping for air.
Marshall rushed over, his medical kit ready. He performed a quick exam, nodding in relief. "You're gonna be okay," he said to the dazed camper.
Rocky draped a blanket over Ryder's shoulders, but Ryder gently placed it around the camper instead. "Here," he said softly. "You need this more than I do."
The rescued campers gathered, their expressions filled with gratitude. One of them stepped forward, her voice trembling. "You're real heroes. Thank you."
Ryder shook his head humbly, resting a hand on Chase's shoulder. "It's a team effort. We couldn't have done it without everyone."
Back at the Lookout, the team gathered around the firepit behind the tower, the warmth of the flames chasing away the chill of the day. Ryder's voice carried a note of pride and gratitude as he addressed the group.
"Today, you not only saved the lives of those campers, but you saved mine as well. Thank you all for your teamwork, your courage, and your trust in each other."
The team cheered and howled, celebrating their victory. As the flames crackled, Ryder leaned back, his gaze fixed on the stars above. Quietly, he offered a prayer of thanks, his growing faith strengthened by the day's events and the courage of his team.
Chapter 11: The Firedog Competition
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was a crisp March morning, the kind that hinted at the first breaths of spring. Inside the Lookout, the PAW Patrol gathered in their usual semi-circle around Ryder, their ears perked with curiosity. Ryder had called an impromptu meeting, and the air buzzed with anticipation.
"Good morning, team!" Ryder greeted, his smile as bright as the sunlight streaming through the windows. "I've got some big news today."
Marshall tilted his head, his tail wagging with excitement. "What's up, Ryder?"
Ryder grinned. "Marshall, you've been invited to participate in the firedog competition in Adventure City next week!"
For a moment, silence fell as the words sank in. Then the room exploded into cheers.
"Dude!" Zuma barked. "That's totally gnarly!"
Chase clapped his paw on Marshall's shoulder. "You're gonna crush it, Marshall! This is your moment!"
Even Rocky, typically reserved, broke into a proud smile. "All your hard work is paying off, buddy."
Marshall's ears drooped bashfully as he beamed. "Thanks, everyone! I couldn't have done it without all of you."
Rubble piped up, his voice eager. "Do you think Katie can come too? She's family, and she'd want to be there."
Ryder nodded. "That's a great idea, Rubble. I'll call her and see if she's free."
Down at the River Walk Café, Katie and Joseph sat across from each other at a cozy corner table. The warm aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, and the river glistened in the sunlight outside.
Katie leaned back, a content smile on her face. "It's so nice to have a quiet breakfast together. Feels like we're always so busy these days."
Joseph nodded, his dark eyes soft with affection. "Yeah, it's good to slow down sometimes."
Katie's phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with Ryder's name. She glanced at it, then shook her head. "I'll call him back later. We're on a date."
Joseph hesitated for a moment before smiling. "You should answer. It might be important."
Katie picked up the phone, her expression curious. "Hi, Ryder! What's up?"
Ryder's voice came through, brimming with excitement. "Katie, Marshall's been invited to the firedog competition in Adventure City, and we're all going to support him. We'd love for you to join us!"
Katie's eyes widened. "That's amazing! Of course, I'll come. Thanks for inviting me!"
When the call ended, Katie turned to Joseph, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "Ryder invited me to the firedog competition! It's such a big deal for Marshall, and I can't wait to cheer him on. Would you mind watching Callie while I'm gone?"
Joseph's smile faltered for a split second before he recovered. "Of course, Katie. Callie and I will be just fine."
"You're the best," Katie said warmly.
Joseph glanced at his watch, his expression shifting. "I should get going. Easter's coming up, and I need to practice." He reached for his wallet, leaving money on the table. "I'll see you later."
As he left, Katie watched him go, a flicker of concern crossing her face.
Six days later, the PAW Patrol, Ryder, and Katie boarded the bus bound for Adventure City. Chase took charge of organizing the gear, ensuring everything was properly stowed, while the others chatted excitedly about the trip.
Katie sat beside Skye, who tilted her head curiously. "You've been kind of quiet, Katie. Everything okay?"
Katie sighed, glancing out the window at the rolling countryside. "Joseph's been acting a little… distant. I think he might be jealous."
Skye blinked. "Jealous? Of who?"
Katie hesitated, her voice dropping. "Ryder, maybe. I mean, Ryder's amazing—kind, brave, good-looking… It wouldn't be the first time someone felt threatened by him."
Skye smiled sympathetically. "Have you talked to Joseph about it?"
Katie shook her head. "Not yet. I guess I'm still trying to figure out what to say."
Skye nudged her gently. "Well, you'll have time to think on the ride. And no matter what, Joseph's lucky to have you. He'll see that."
Katie offered a small smile. "Thanks, Skye. I hope you're right."
The team arrived at the hotel, the sprawling skyline of Adventure City towering around them. As they settled in, Marshall mingled with some of the other firedogs.
Smoke, a sleek black lab with a playful glint in her eye, wagged her tail as she greeted him. "So, you're the famous Marshall. I've heard good things."
"Really?" Marshall asked, his ears perking up.
Smoke grinned. "Don't let it go to your head."
Saraph, a golden retriever with a calm demeanor, added, "It's good to see a new face. These competitions need fresh energy—we don't get much of that down in Foggy Bottom."
"You're from Foggy Bottom?" Marshall asked, a curious glint in his eye. "I've never been there."
"Count your blessings," Saraph sighed. "Where are you from, Smoke?"
"Right here in Adventure City," Smoke beamed. "The only downside to living here is working with… him."
Smoke gestured to a lean, handsome dalmatian entering the lobby. He carried himself with an air of supreme confidence, his polished coat gleaming.
"Well, well," the older dog said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Marshall. Surprised to see you here. Last I checked, you didn't have what it takes to make it in Adventure City."
Smoke stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Back off, Blaze. You're not the king of the world."
Blaze smirked. "Says who?" He then turned to Marshall. "Good luck tomorrow—you're gonna need it. In fact, if you want to borrow mine and add it to yours, that might give you a fragment of a chance to win."
Blaze walked off, leaving Marshall's shoulders slumped.
"You know that…" Saraph hesitated before continuing, "Well, I really shouldn't use that word."
"Yeah, I know him," Marshall replied. "I was trained here, but Blaze rejected me from the fire team. Luckily, Ryder found me shortly after that and gave me my shot."
Smoke considered this for a moment. "Well, screw him. My human partner told me all about you—you're twice the firedog Blaze is, just not as big of a glory hog."
"Smoke's right; don't worry about Blaze. He's a…" Saraph hesitated again. "Well…"
"Bro," Smoke said, exasperated, "either use the word or don't."
Saraph muttered something under his breath.
"I'm sorry, what?" Smoke demanded.
Saraph sighed before blurting out, "HE'S A TURD!"
There was a moment of silence as everyone in the hotel lobby turned toward the three firedogs.
"Dude," Smoke laughed, "that's not even one of the bad ones."
Marshall also laughed, but deep down, he wondered if Blaze was right: did he have what it takes to make it in Adventure City?
In their shared hotel room, Chase found Marshall sitting on the edge of the bed, his normally cheerful demeanor replaced by a downcast expression. The dalmatian's ears drooped as he stared at the floor, his paws fiddling nervously.
"Marshall," Chase said gently, sitting down beside him. "What's going on?"
Marshall sighed, his tail barely twitching. "It's Blaze. He's got me doubting myself again. I mean, he's the reason I didn't make it the first time. What if he's right? What if I don't have what it takes?"
Chase placed a reassuring paw on Marshall's shoulder, his voice steady and calm. "Hey, don't let Blaze get to you. You've come so far since then, and you've proven time and time again that you're one of the best fire dogs out there. Adventure Bay relies on you. We rely on you."
Marshall looked up, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "But Blaze… he's so confident. So… perfect. I'm clumsy, Chase. I mess up all the time. What if I mess up tomorrow and prove him right?"
Chase's expression softened, and his voice carried both warmth and conviction. "Marshall, do you know why you're here? Why you were invited to this competition? It's not because you're perfect—it's because of your heart, your courage, and your determination. Yeah, you trip sometimes. So what? You always get back up. That's what makes you special."
Marshall blinked, his ears perking slightly. "You really think I can do this?"
Chase grinned. "I don't just think—I know you can. Blaze might have a flashy record, but records aren't everything. You've saved countless lives with your bravery, your quick thinking, and that big heart of yours. That's what matters. You've got what it takes, Marshall, and tomorrow, you're going to show everyone—including Blaze—just how incredible you are."
Marshall's tail gave a tentative wag. "Thanks, Chase. I'll give it my all."
"That's the spirit," Chase said, his voice firm with encouragement. "And remember, no matter what happens out there, we've got your back. You're not doing this alone."
Marshall stood up, his posture a little straighter, his confidence slowly returning. "You're right. I can do this. I've got my team, and I've got me. That's all I need."
Chase nodded, his own tail wagging. "That's the Marshall I know. Now, let's get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be your day."
The room Katie shared with Skye at the hotel was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The orange and pink hues spilled through the window, painting the walls with warm light. Katie sat cross-legged on the bed, her phone in hand.
The day had been exciting and busy, but something nagged at her. She dialed Joseph's number, her finger hovering over the screen for a moment before pressing the call button.
Joseph picked up after a few rings, his voice pleasant but slightly guarded. "Hey, Katie. How's Adventure City?"
"It's been great," Katie said, trying to keep her tone light. "The competition is tomorrow, so everyone's been gearing up. Marshall's really excited—and honestly, a little nervous—but I think he'll do great."
Joseph chuckled softly. "That's good to hear. How's Ryder holding up with all the logistics?"
Katie paused, sensing an undertone to his question. "He's fine. You know Ryder—always in control, always calm. Why do you ask?"
Joseph hesitated, then said, "Just curious. You've mentioned him a lot these past few days."
Katie frowned, unsure how to respond. "Well, of course I have. We're all here together, Joseph. It's not like I'm spending time with Ryder alone. I'm with the whole team."
There was a slight pause on Joseph's end, the silence carrying a tension that made Katie's chest tighten. "I know," Joseph said finally. "It's just… never mind."
"No," Katie pressed, her voice firm. "What's going on? You've been acting weird ever since I told you about this trip."
Joseph sighed, the sound heavy and reluctant. "It's nothing, really. I'm just being stupid."
"Joseph." Katie's voice softened, but her resolve didn't waver. "Talk to me. What's bothering you?"
Joseph let out a breath, his words coming in a rush, as though he'd been holding them back for too long. "Okay, fine. It's just… you're there with Ryder, this guy who's basically a superhero around here. He's brave, smart, good-looking, a leader… and I'm just me. I know it's irrational, but it's hard not to feel… I don't know, insecure."
Katie blinked, her emotions a mix of surprise and frustration. "Insecure? Joseph, that's ridiculous. You know how much you mean to me."
"I do," Joseph said quickly. "And I trust you—I do. It's just… I guess I let my mind run away with me."
Katie's frustration bubbled over. "Joseph, do you hear yourself? Ryder's one of my best friends, and I'm here for Marshall's competition. And what does that say about us, if you're questioning my loyalty?"
Joseph groaned. "I'm not questioning your loyalty, Katie. I'm questioning my own stupid insecurities."
"Then maybe work on that," Katie snapped, instantly regretting the sharpness in her tone. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Look, I don't have the energy to argue about this right now. I've got to get ready for dinner."
"Right," Joseph said, his voice clipped. "You're right. I'm sorry for bringing it up. Have a good night."
"Good night," Katie said curtly, hanging up before he could say anything else. She stared at the phone in her hand, her heart heavy with a mix of anger and sadness.
The sound of the door opening drew her attention, and Skye stepped in, her eyes immediately catching the tension in Katie's posture. "Hey, everything okay?"
Katie hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Joseph and I just had… a thing."
Skye sat beside her, her expression concerned but gentle. "What kind of thing?"
Katie sighed, running a hand through her hair. "He's jealous. Of Ryder, of all people. I can't believe he doesn't trust me."
Skye tilted her head, considering Katie's words. "Do you really think it's about trust? Or could it be that he just feels… I don't know, vulnerable? Guys don't always know how to talk about that stuff."
Katie's anger softened slightly, her brow furrowing. "Maybe. I just wish he'd told me how he felt before I came on this trip."
"Well," Skye said with a small smile, "you can't change what's already happened. But if Joseph is feeling insecure, it's probably because he cares about you a lot. Maybe give him some time to figure it out."
Katie nodded slowly, her shoulders relaxing a bit. "You're right. I just… we've never really fought before, and I'm learning how much I hate it."
"I get it. Chase and I are both stubborn—we butt heads sometimes and just have to walk away for a couple of hours." Skye bumped her shoulder lightly. "But it'll be okay once you both sit down and calmly talk it out. Now, come on. Let's get ready for dinner. If Marshall can face Blaze tomorrow, you can face a fancy meal tonight."
Katie managed a small laugh, grateful for Skye's support. "Thanks, Skye. I needed that."
"That's what I'm here for," Skye said with a grin.
The dimly lit choir loft of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church echoed with the sound of organ pipes and choral voices blending in a rehearsal for the upcoming Easter Sunday. The grand organ stood as a towering centerpiece, its polished pipes gleaming in the soft glow of the overhead lights.
Joseph sat at the console, his hands poised on the keys and feet shifting between pedals. Normally, he played with precision and grace, but tonight, something was off.
As the choir launched into Regina Caeli, Joseph's fingers faltered, a dissonant chord breaking the harmony. The choir director, Stephen Luds, raised his hand to stop the group, his expression puzzled but patient.
"Let's take that from measure 42," Stephen said calmly. "Joseph, can we tighten up the accompaniment a bit? That modulation needs to flow seamlessly."
"Right," Joseph muttered, his cheeks burning as he adjusted his hands on the keys. "Sorry about that."
The rehearsal resumed, but Joseph's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. As the choir soared into the next verse, his timing wavered again. A missed pedal note here, a delayed transition there—small mistakes that added up, disrupting the choir's rhythm and flow.
Stephen stopped the group once more, his brow furrowing slightly. "Let's pause for a moment," he said, addressing the singers. "Take five, everyone. Joseph, can we chat?"
Joseph swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the choir's curious gazes as they stepped aside to chat quietly amongst themselves. Stephen approached the organ console, his demeanor calm but inquisitive.
"Joseph," Stephen began gently, "I've worked with you long enough to know this isn't like you. Your playing is usually precise—flawless, even. Is everything okay?"
Joseph hesitated, his hands gripping the edges of the bench. "I… I'm sorry, Stephen. I know I'm off tonight. It's just…" He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's personal stuff. I didn't mean for it to affect rehearsal."
Stephen nodded, pulling up a chair beside him. "Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. Sometimes it helps to get things out in the open."
Joseph glanced at the choir, who were chatting and sipping water while they waited. He lowered his voice. "It's Katie. She's away in Adventure City with Ryder and the PAW Patrol, and… I've been feeling insecure. I trust her, of course, but Ryder is this… larger-than-life figure. He's a hero, a natural leader, and…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I know it's ridiculous, but I can't help feeling like I don't measure up."
Stephen regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "Joseph, I've been married for ten years, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that trust is the cornerstone of any relationship. Feeling insecure doesn't make you a bad partner—it makes you human. But letting that insecurity fester can create problems where there aren't any."
Joseph nodded slowly, Stephen's words sinking in. "You're right. Katie's never given me a reason to doubt her. This is my issue, not hers."
Stephen smiled warmly. "Exactly. And from what I've seen, Katie is as devoted to you as you are to her. Don't let your mind create scenarios that don't exist. Talk to her, clear the air, and trust in what you have."
Joseph exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Thanks, Stephen. I needed that."
"Anytime," Stephen said, patting his shoulder. "Now, let's get back to making music. Easter's coming, and we've got to make it glorious."
Joseph managed a small smile, returning his focus to the organ. As the choir regrouped and rehearsal resumed, his playing steadied, the music flowing once again with the precision and heart he was known for.
The elegant ballroom of the Adventure City Grand Hotel shimmered with soft golden light. Long tables draped in crisp white linens filled the space, adorned with simple but elegant centerpieces of roses and greenery. The hum of friendly conversation filled the air as competitors and their partners gathered to celebrate the firedog competition.
Marshall sat near the middle of the room, flanked by Saraph and Smoke, the two fire dogs he'd come to know during the day. The scent of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as servers moved gracefully between tables.
Ryder rose from his seat at the head table, adjusting the microphone at the podium. The room quieted, all eyes turning toward him.
"Good evening, everyone," Ryder began, his warm smile putting the crowd at ease. "It's an honor to be here tonight to celebrate these incredible fire dogs and the work they do to keep people safe. I'd like to take a moment to talk about Marshall, who many of you know as the PAW Patrol's firedog."
Marshall's ears perked up, and his tail wagged slightly beneath the table.
"Marshall isn't just brave—he's kind, determined, and always willing to put others first. He has a way of making everyone around him feel safe and supported, and that's a quality you can't teach. I know he's going to give his all tomorrow, and no matter what happens, I couldn't be prouder of him."
A warm round of applause followed Ryder's speech, with a few cheers from the PAW Patrol table. Marshall beamed, nudging Saraph. "I didn't think Ryder was gonna say all that…"
Smoke leaned over with a teasing grin. "Better than my partner. All she said was, 'Smoke doesn't burn out under pressure.' I love her, but come on."
Marshall chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
Next came a firefighter from Foggy Bottom, who stood to speak about Saraph. "I've worked with a lot of dogs in my time, but Saraph is one of a kind. His instincts are razor-sharp, and his ability to navigate tricky situations is unmatched. I'm lucky to have him as my partner."
The crowd clapped again, Saraph raising a paw in acknowledgment. "Not bad," he said with a wink to Marshall.
The Adventure City fire chief approached the podium next. A tall, imposing figure in a pristine uniform, he commanded the room's attention with a single glance. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's my privilege to introduce Blaze, a dog who needs no introduction in Adventure City."
Blaze, sitting at a table near the front, lifted his chin slightly, a self-assured smirk on his face.
"Blaze has logged more rescues than any other fire dog in the city's history," the chief continued. "He's a living legend, and his dedication to saving lives is nothing short of extraordinary. Adventure City is safer because of Blaze."
The applause was thunderous, with several attendees rising to their feet in appreciation. Blaze basked in the attention, his polished demeanor as sharp as ever.
Marshall, however, felt a prickle of curiosity. He leaned toward Saraph, whispering, "Any reason Blaze gets a speech by the fire chief instead of a partner?"
Saraph's gaze flicked toward Blaze, his expression neutral. "Well, I'm not from here, but I hear Blaze refuses to work with a partner at all, so I guess the fire chief is the only one who can give a speech about him."
Marshall blinked, surprised. He glanced back at Blaze, who was now seated again, casually brushing off the chief's praise with an air of practiced humility. It made sense, Marshall supposed, but something about it felt... empty.
As the speeches concluded and dinner was served, Marshall couldn't help but reflect on the contrast. While he, Smoke, and Saraph were celebrated for who they were as individuals, Blaze's recognition seemed focused solely on his accomplishments. It was impressive, no doubt, but Marshall couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
Katie sat cross-legged on her hotel bed once again, the faint hum of city traffic filtering through the window. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she glanced at the screen. It was Joseph. She hesitated for a moment before picking it up.
"Hi, Joseph," she said, her voice softer than usual.
"Hi, Katie," Joseph replied, his tone earnest. "I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Katie blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"
"For being an idiot," Joseph said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I let my insecurities get the better of me, and I acted like a jealous fool. You're out there with Ryder and the team, doing cool things, and instead of being happy for you, I let my own worries ruin things."
Katie's heart softened. "Joseph... you weren't completely wrong. Ryder and I are close, and I should've considered how that might feel from your perspective. But I promise, there's nothing between us except friendship. You have nothing to worry about."
"I know that," Joseph said quickly. "And I trust you completely. I just... I guess I felt like I couldn't measure up. Ryder's this incredible leader, and he's done so much for everyone in Adventure Bay. How can I compete with that?"
Katie's voice turned gentle. "Joseph, you don't have to compete with Ryder. You're incredible in your own way. You have this gift for music, and you've made the church choir so much better since you joined. And most importantly, you're kind, thoughtful, and honest. That's what matters to me."
There was a pause, and Katie could almost feel Joseph smiling on the other end of the line.
"Thank you, Katie," he said softly. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life."
Katie felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I'm lucky too."
"I'll let you get some rest," Joseph said. "But when you get back, I'm going to make it up to you. I promise."
Katie laughed lightly. "I'll hold you to that. Good night, Joseph."
"Good night, Katie."
As the call ended, Katie set her phone down with a smile, feeling the tension of the past week melt away. For the first time since arriving in Adventure City, she felt at ease.
The morning air in City Park was electric with anticipation. A massive crowd had gathered, their cheers echoing off the surrounding skyscrapers of Adventure City. Rows of bleachers flanked the competition field, and a stage adorned with banners reading "Adventure City Fire Dog Competition" stood proudly at the center. A brass band played a spirited tune as the Mayor of Adventure City stepped up to the podium, microphone in hand.
"Welcome, one and all, to this year's Fire Dog Competition!" the mayor announced, his voice booming over the loudspeakers. "Today, we celebrate the incredible skills, bravery, and dedication of these heroic fire dogs who keep our communities safe. Let's give them a big round of applause!"
The crowd erupted in cheers as the competitors were introduced. Smoke, the sleek black Labrador from Adventure City, wagged her tail confidently. Saraph, the golden retriever from Foggy Bottom, gave a friendly bark. Blaze, the lean, handsome Dalmatian and hometown favorite, soaked in the applause with a smug grin. Finally, Marshall, the newcomer from Adventure Bay, stepped forward. His heart pounded, but he held his head high as his team cheered him on from the sidelines.
Ryder leaned down and whispered to Marshall, "Remember, it's not about beating Blaze. It's about doing your best and showing everyone the kind of firedog you are."
Marshall nodded, his resolve hardening. "You got it, Ryder."
The mayor continued, "Now, let's begin with our first challenge—The Ladder!"
The competitors lined up at the start of the course, their eyes fixed on the towering tree ahead. Suspended high in the branches was a series of plush toy cats, each competitor assigned a different target. The goal was simple: retrieve the toy as quickly as possible.
Smoke went first. She darted up the ladder with precision, her sleek frame moving gracefully as she reached the top, grabbed the toy, and descended in one fluid motion. The crowd cheered as she completed the challenge with an impressive time.
Next was Saraph, who ascended confidently but hesitated slightly as he reached for his toy, causing him to lose a few seconds. He returned to the ground with a sheepish grin, wagging his tail to the applause of the crowd.
Blaze approached the ladder with a cocky stride. His movements were mechanical, almost too perfect, as if rehearsed a thousand times. He reached his toy and descended in record time, smirking at the other competitors.
Finally, it was Marshall's turn. His paws trembled slightly as he placed them on the rungs, but the cheers of his team steadied him. He climbed quickly, his focus unwavering as he reached the toy. On his way down, a gust of wind swayed the ladder, and the crowd gasped. Marshall paused for a split second, then steadied himself and completed the descent.
"Way to go, Marshall!" Ryder called out as the team erupted in cheers.
The second event was a high-speed obstacle course designed to test agility and problem-solving under pressure. The dogs had to navigate through a series of hurdles, tunnels, and see-saws, extinguish small fires along the way, and finally rescue a dummy trapped beneath simulated debris.
Smoke set the bar high with her sleek movements and quick reflexes. She navigated the course like a dancer, finishing with an impressive time.
Saraph followed, his powerful frame making short work of the obstacles, though he stumbled slightly on the see-saw. He completed the course with a respectable time.
Blaze went third. His precision was undeniable as he zipped through the course, extinguished the fires with ease, and rescued the dummy in a flawless performance. The crowd roared as his name lit up the leaderboard in first place.
Marshall took a deep breath as he approached the starting line. "You've got this," Chase called from the sidelines.
Marshall started strong, his movements quick and deliberate. He extinguished the fires with perfect aim and reached the dummy ahead of schedule. But on the return trip, the dummy slipped from his grip. The mistake cost him precious seconds as he scrambled to recover, finishing in third place.
"Don't sweat it," Skye said when he returned to the sidelines. "You're still in the game!"
The third event tested accuracy and aim. Fire targets were placed at varying heights, popping up at random intervals, and competitors had to use their water cannons to extinguish them in the allotted time.
Smoke went first, hitting most of her targets but missing a few at the higher elevations. Saraph followed, his aim steady but a bit slow, earning him an average score.
Blaze stepped up, exuding confidence. He hit the lower targets with ease but struggled with the higher ones, leaving several fires burning as time ran out. A murmur spread through the crowd—was Blaze slipping?
Marshall stepped up with a determined look. "This is your strength," he whispered to himself.
One by one, the targets popped up, and Marshall extinguished them all with unerring precision. When the final tally came in, he had achieved a perfect score, catapulting him to a tie with Blaze for first place.
The final challenge was the most grueling—a simulation of a real-life rescue. Each dog had to locate three victims hidden in debris-filled zones, while their partner performed the actual rescues. Smoke and her partner performed admirably, their teamwork earning applause. Saraph followed, his strong nose locating the victims quickly, though his partner struggled with one extraction.
Blaze approached the starting line with a confident smirk. "Watch and learn," he called back to Marshall.
Blaze moved with precision, locating the victims in record time. But without a partner, his performance lacked the fluidity and teamwork of the others. Still, his speed and precision helped him achieve an impressive score.
Marshall was the last to go. Ryder stepped in as his partner, their bond unspoken but undeniable. Marshall sniffed out the victims with incredible accuracy, barking sharply to signal Ryder. Together, they rescued all three victims, their teamwork earning a standing ovation.
But it wasn't quite enough, as the leaderboard updated to show Marshall still behind Blaze by a total of two points. Blaze had won the competition.
An award ceremony began with the mayor of Adventure City commending all the participants for their efforts before asking Blaze to join him on the stage.
The crowd erupted in cheers, the hometown favorite stepping forward with his characteristic swagger. The Adventure City fire chief placed the gold medal around Blaze's neck, and photographers snapped pictures as Blaze struck a confident pose.
Marshall stood nearby, his expression a mix of pride and disappointment. He had given it his all, but coming so close to victory without seizing it stung.
Before Blaze could begin his speech, an emergency call shattered the celebratory atmosphere. Smoke billowed in the distance, and a firefighter rushed to the stage. "There's a fire in an apartment building a few blocks away—people are trapped inside!"
Chaos erupted. The crowd murmured anxiously as the fire dogs and their handlers sprang into action. Marshall didn't hesitate. "PAW Patrol, let's roll!" he barked, his voice cutting through the commotion.
Blaze froze for a moment, his polished demeanor cracking. He glanced toward the fire chief, who hesitated before nodding. "Go," the chief urged.
At the scene of the fire, the situation was dire. Flames licked the upper floors of the building, and thick black smoke poured from shattered windows. Residents leaned out of windows, coughing and shouting for help.
Marshall took charge with a calm, commanding voice. "Smoke, check the east side for anyone trapped on the ground floor. Saraph, you're on the west side. Blaze, you and I will handle the upper floors. Ryder, you and Chase can help coordinate the evacuation."
Blaze hesitated, unused to taking orders from someone else, but something in Marshall's tone brooked no argument. He nodded curtly. "Got it."
Working together, the fire dogs cleared the building. Blaze used his speed and strength to lead several residents to safety, while Marshall demonstrated quick thinking and precision under pressure. When the last resident—a young boy—was found unconscious on the top floor, Blaze began to falter, coughing from the smoke.
"Blaze!" Marshall called, his voice cutting through the chaos. "I've got him—just help me clear the way!"
Together, they navigated through the flames, Marshall carefully carrying the boy on his back while Blaze used his strength to clear debris from their path. They emerged from the building moments before the roof collapsed, the crowd erupting in cheers as paramedics rushed to assist the boy.
As the fire was extinguished and the adrenaline began to fade, Blaze approached Marshall. The crowd grew quiet, sensing something important was about to happen.
Blaze stood tall, the gold medal still hanging around his neck. For the first time, there was no trace of arrogance in his expression. Instead, his gaze was steady, his voice low but sincere. "Marshall, I've been wrong about you."
Marshall blinked in surprise. "Blaze, I—"
Blaze held up a paw, cutting him off. "Let me finish. You've got something I've been missing—heart. You don't do this for the glory. You do it because you care. That's what makes a true firedog."
He reached up, removed the gold medal from around his neck, and held it out to Marshall. "This belongs to you."
Marshall hesitated, his paw trembling as he accepted the medal. The weight of it wasn't just physical—it was the weight of recognition, redemption, and triumph.
"I don't know what to say…" Marshall murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Blaze gave a rare, genuine smile. "Just keep doing what you're doing. You're going places, Marshall. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, and Marshall turned to see his team cheering wildly from the sidelines. He held the medal high, his heart full. Now Marshall had no doubt that he had what it takes to be a great firedog.
As the team prepared to leave Adventure City early the next morning, Blaze approached Marshall one last time, Seraph behind him. "Take care, Marshall," he said, offering his paw. "And remember, you earned that."
"Thanks, Blaze," Marshall replied, shaking his paw firmly.
Seraph offered a more casual goodbye, wishing Marshall and the PAW Patrol well.
As Seraph and Blaze walked away, Smoke approached with a mischievous glint in her eye. She winked at Marshall and slipped him a small piece of paper. "See you around, Marshall," she said with a playful tone before trotting off.
Marshall unfolded the paper to reveal a phone number. Chase and Zuma burst out laughing behind him, their teasing echoing through the morning air.
"You're quite the charmer, Marshall!" Chase said, nudging him with his paw.
"Dude, I didn't know you had that in you!" Zuma added with a grin.
Marshall blushed furiously, but a small, proud smile crept onto his face. With his medal gleaming and his spirits high, he boarded the bus with his team, ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.
The bus rolled into Adventure Bay as the afternoon sun cast its rays over the town. The dogs and Ryder were exhausted but satisfied after their eventful trip to Adventure City. Katie waved goodbye to the team as Ryder drove her back to her pet grooming parlor.
When they arrived, Ryder helped Katie unload her bags before driving off, leaving her standing in front of the shop. As she reached for the door handle, she noticed something taped to the glass. It was a neatly folded piece of paper with her name written in elegant script on the front.
Curious, Katie opened the note and began to read:
Dear Katie,
It hurts my heart to know that I've caused you grief during what was supposed to be a fun trip for you. I hope you enjoyed your time in Adventure City, in spite of my foolishness.
Perhaps a flattering letter is a bit of a cliché, but I find it fitting to express to you how truly wonderful it is to have someone like you in my life. I don't believe in luck, so I will attribute my good fortune of your companionship to the good providence of Our Lord.
Your company is one of the great pleasures of my life, and I am forever grateful for every moment we have shared and will share together.
Yours sincerely,
Joseph
Katie's heart softened as she finished the letter, a small smile playing on her lips. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, her thoughts spinning with the tender words Joseph had written.
"Hey, Katie."
Startled, she turned to see Joseph standing just a few steps away. He was holding a bouquet of colorful flowers, Callie perched comfortably on his shoulder. His expression was nervous but hopeful.
"Joseph," Katie said softly, clutching the letter to her chest. "You didn't have to—"
"I did," Joseph interrupted gently, stepping closer. "I let my insecurities get the better of me, and I hurt you. That's not who I want to be, Katie. I'm sorry."
Katie's eyes glistened, and she placed the letter carefully on the counter inside the parlor before taking the flowers from him. "Thank you. These are beautiful."
"You are beautiful," Joseph said, his voice earnest. "I—I love you, Katie."
Her breath caught as the words hung in the air between them. Callie made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a gag, but neither of them noticed.
Katie set the bouquet down and wrapped her arms around Joseph, pulling him into a warm hug. "I love you too," she whispered.
Joseph leaned back slightly, his gaze meeting hers.
As their eyes locked, Joseph leaned in, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her lips. The moment was tender, quiet, and filled with unspoken promises. When they pulled back, both were smiling, their cheeks flushed.
Callie let out a dramatic sigh, breaking the spell. Katie and Joseph laughed, the tension of the past week melting away.
They stood together as the sunlight filtered through the parlor's large windows, their love reaffirmed and their future bright, as Callie stretched lazily on Joseph's shoulder, content with the world once again.
Notes:
If you didn't know, Saraph means "burning one" in Hebrew, and the word refers to venomous desert snakes. It's also the root of "Seraphim," the highest choir of the Holy Angels who are said to have a "burning love" for God and who chant "Holy, Holy, Holy" before his throne without ceasing.
You didn't ask, but now you know!
Chapter 12: The Light of Easter
Notes:
I dedicate this episode to the many thousands of converts who joined the Church this past Easter. If you're one of them and you're reading this, welcome home!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sanctuary of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church was cloaked in solemn stillness, purple veils covering all of the beautiful statues and artwork in the church nave. The flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced on the vaulted ceiling, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and the weight of reverence.
It was Good Friday, the day when the faithful gathered to remember the Passion and Death of Jesus. The bright red vestments worn by the priest and deacon were a stark reminder of the Precious Blood spilled for the salvation of the world.
The crucifix was processed through the church before stopping at the front of the sanctuary, held aloft by Deacon Paul. The figure of Christ, battered and bleeding and crowned with thorns, hung from the cross—a stark reminder of the suffering endured for humanity's salvation.
The congregation moved forward in a single file line, the silence punctuated only by the creak of pews and the occasional soft sniffle as each person took their turn to revere the Holy Cross, the instrument of their redemption.
Ryder sat near the middle of the church, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He'd been attending these Triduum liturgies for the first time, starting with Holy Thursday—a special celebration of the Lord's Supper and memorial of the betrayal Jesus suffered from Judas—and the weight of Good Friday was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could feel it in the air, in the faces of the people around him—an almost palpable grief.
When it was his turn, Ryder stood and made his way down the aisle. His steps were steady, but his heart raced as he approached the cross. The closer he got, the more vivid his thoughts became. The stories he had heard in OCIA about Jesus' love and sacrifice flooded his mind. He thought of the nails driven into hands that had healed the sick, the crown of thorns pressed onto a brow that had offered only mercy, and the cries of "It is finished" that echoed through history.
He reached the cross and knelt slowly before it. His head bowed low, and he felt the burning sting of tears in his eyes. Looking up, his gaze locked onto the crucified figure. The wood was rough, the details carved with a precision that made the wounds almost lifelike. Ryder reached out a trembling hand, placing his fingertips gently on the feet of Christ.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. Thank you for loving us enough to do this."
A tear slipped down his cheek, splashing against the polished floor beneath him. His heart ached, a strange combination of sorrow and gratitude welling up inside him. Ryder leaned forward and pressed his lips to the foot of the crucifix, as was the custom. The wood was cold against his skin, yet it carried an inexplicable warmth—a love that transcended time and space.
He made the Sign of the Cross before standing and stepping aside to let the next person venerate. As he returned to his pew, he noticed he wasn't the only one deeply moved. A woman a few rows ahead of him wept openly, her shoulders shaking with sobs. An elderly man knelt, even while grimacing at the pain, his weathered face a portrait of sorrow and reverence.
Ryder sat down, wiping at his eyes, and closed them. He didn't have the words to pray, but his heart poured out its unspoken longings to the One who hung on the cross. In that sacred silence, he felt a deep connection not only to the story of Christ's Passion but to everyone in the church who mourned and hoped together.
As the service continued, Ryder felt the faintest glimmer of anticipation for what was to come. The desolation of Good Friday and the darkness of Holy Saturday would give way to the dawn of Easter, and Ryder knew that he would soon experience his own transformation—a death to the old self and a resurrection into new life.
But for now, he sat with the sorrow, letting it cleanse and prepare him for the joy yet to come.
The next morning, the River Walk Café was bustling with the usual Saturday morning crowd. The soft murmur of nearby water flowing over stones paired with the gentle hum of morning conversations created a serene atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through the café windows, casting golden patterns on the wooden tables.
Ryder sat across from Mr. Porter, his OCIA sponsor and a stalwart figure in the community. A half-eaten croissant and a steaming mug of tea sat before Ryder, while Mr. Porter sipped his coffee, his plate already cleared. Despite the casual setting, there was an air of anticipation between them.
"You ready for tonight?" Mr. Porter asked, his kind eyes crinkling with a smile.
Ryder nodded, but his hands fidgeted with the edge of his napkin. "I've never been more ready for anything. In a funny way, it feels like my whole life has been leading up to this."
Mr. Porter leaned back, regarding Ryder with a mixture of pride and reverence. "It's an incredible journey you're about to complete, Ryder. Baptism isn't just a ritual—it's a transformation. In baptism, we die with Christ and rise with Him as a new creation. Tonight, you'll be reborn."
Ryder looked down, the weight of the words settling over him. "It's... overwhelming. I mean, I know this is the right path, but it's such a big step."
Mr. Porter nodded thoughtfully. "It's natural to feel that way. But remember, you're not doing this alone. The Church is your family now, and God's grace will be with you every step of the way."
Ryder smiled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Thanks, Mr. Porter. That means a lot."
Mr. Porter chuckled softly. "You're going to do just fine, Ryder. Besides, tonight's liturgy is one of the most beautiful things you'll ever witness. The Easter Vigil... well, let's just say it's a feast for the soul."
As they spoke, dark clouds began to gather outside, a prelude to the rain forecasted for later in the day. Ryder glanced at the window, the shift in weather mirroring the weighty emotions swirling within him.
"It looks like it's about to rain," Ryder noted.
Mr. Porter finished his coffee and stood, clapping a reassuring hand on Ryder's shoulder. "A little rain never hurt anyone. Consider it a reminder of the cleansing power of water. Speaking of which," he added with a grin, "you might want to grab an umbrella if you go out again today."
Ryder laughed, the sound lightening the moment. "Good idea. Thanks for breakfast, Mr. Porter."
"It was my pleasure, Ryder," Mr. Porter said warmly. "I'll see you tonight. And remember—this is just the beginning. The real adventure starts after baptism."
Ryder nodded, the words resonating deeply. As he stepped outside into the brisk air, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The rain may come, but nothing would keep him from the transformative night ahead.
The once-pleasant day had given way to chaos as heavy rains battered Adventure Bay. The farmer's frantic voice over the communicator echoed in Ryder's mind: "The barn's flooding! My animals are trapped! Please, you've got to hurry!"
Ryder stood in the Lookout, rain pelting the windows as he addressed the team. "This is a high-risk rescue. The levee's broken, and the water's rising fast. Chase, you're in charge—I need to make it to the Easter Vigil tonight. I trust you all to handle this."
Chase saluted confidently. "You can count on us, Ryder."
The dogs barked their agreement, and within moments, they were loaded into their vehicles, speeding through the rain-soaked countryside toward the farm. The radio crackled with updates as they neared the scene.
"Looks like the levee's completely breached," Skye reported from above, her helicopter buffeted by the wind. "The barn's barely holding together."
As the team arrived, they were met with a harrowing sight: floodwaters surged through the fields, lapping at the edges of the unstable barn. The farmer stood on a nearby hill, waving desperately.
"My cows! My horses! They're all in there!" he shouted.
Chase assessed the situation with sharp eyes. "Alright, team, here's the plan. Rubble, reinforce the barn with support beams to buy us time. Zuma, get in the water and start guiding the animals to safety. Skye, scout from above and watch for any structural weaknesses. Rocky, you're on the levee—do what you can to slow the water down. Marshall, stay ready for injuries. Let's move!"
The team sprang into action. Rubble maneuvered his bulldozer through the muck, expertly placing beams against the barn's sagging walls. "This should keep it up for a little while," he grunted.
Zuma leapt into the swirling water, his hovercraft slicing through the current. "Alright, dudes, follow me!" he called, leading a frightened cow out of the barn.
Inside the barn, the water was knee-deep and rising fast. Chase guided the animals with calm authority, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Easy now, one at a time. We'll get you out of here."
As the rescue unfolded, a sharp bark drew Marshall's attention. A scrappy Australian Cattle Dog was clinging to a broken stall door, her body half-submerged. Her amber eyes locked onto Marshall's.
"I got you!" Marshall called, splashing through the water. He pulled her free and carried her to the shore. As he set her down, she shook off the water and spoke, her voice steady despite the chaos. "Thanks. Name's Raine."
Marshall blinked in surprise but quickly smiled. "You speak? Welcome to the team—for now. Let's go help Rocky, and we can talk later."
Meanwhile, Rocky was at the levee, surrounded by the relentless surge of water. His tools worked furiously, patching breaches as best he could, but his breathing grew ragged. The memory of water engulfing him, the suffocating panic—it all came rushing back.
"I can't… I can't do this," he muttered, his legs shaking.
"Hey," a calm voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. It was Raine, her presence steady and grounding and she walked up. "Look at me. You're not alone. We've got this together."
Rocky locked eyes with her, her unwavering confidence cutting through his fear. He nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do it."
With Raine's encouragement, Rocky pushed through, sealing the levee as the water continued to rise. Raine worked beside him, using her strong build to stabilize debris while he hammered and patched.
When they were done, Rocky turned to the stranger. "Thanks for the help… who are you?"
"Name's Raine," the heeler replied. "Just passing through—I was sleeping in the barn when the flood came."
Rocky felt a tinge of pity. He knew from Raine's answer she must be a stray.
Before he could respond, Skye's voice crackled over the communicator. "The barn's structure is failing. We need to wrap this up—fast!"
Chase barked orders, his tone sharp and focused. "Everyone out! Now!"
The last of the animals were herded to safety as the barn groaned ominously. Rubble and Zuma helped guide them up the hill to the farmer, who wept with relief.
"Thank you! Thank you all!" he cried, embracing his animals.
Chase stood at the water's edge, his communicator in hand. "Ryder, we're all clear at the farm. See you at St. Francis."
Ryder's voice came through, steady and full of gratitude. "Great job, team. I'll see you soon."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the team regrouped, soaked but triumphant. Raine stood among them, her presence already a natural fit.
"Nice work out there, everyone," Chase said. His gaze lingered on Raine. "Wait, who are you?"
"This is Raine," Rocky introduced the stranger. "I couldn't have finished my part of the mission without her help."
"I rescued her from the barn," Marshall added.
"I see," Chase nodded. "Well, I'm sure Ryder would like to meet you—why don't you come with us to the church for the Easter Vigil?"
"Sure," Raine shrugged.
"Since you were such a help," Rocky said, "maybe we could even get you a spot on the team."
Raine tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe. One step at a time."
The dogs barked in agreement, tentatively hopeful that they had made a new friend. As they loaded up their vehicles, the rain finally began to ease, leaving the night air cool and clear—a fitting prelude to the Vigil ahead.
At last, darkness descended on Adventure Bay, and the time had come to celebrate the Easter Vigil in the Holy Night.
Outside St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, the courtyard was filled with the quiet murmur of anticipation. The faithful, each holding an unlit candle, gathered around a large firepit where the Easter fire burned brightly, its flames dancing against the cool night air.
Ryder stood near the back of the crowd, his heart beating steadily.
Beside him, Mr. Porter rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Ryder glanced at the older man, who gave him an encouraging nod. It was the beginning of a night that would change Ryder's life forever.
As Ryder headed to the church, he'd had a moment to receive a report from Chase, including the dog they'd rescued and who ended up helping Rocky finish the job. Ryder was intrigued to meet the newcomer, but he shoved that aside for now.
Father Chris approached the fire, accompanied by Deacon Paul carrying the unlit Easter candle and a group of altar boys. His vestments shimmered faintly in the firelight as he raised his hands to address the congregation.
"Dear brothers and sisters," he began, his voice strong and clear, "on this most sacred night, in which our Lord Jesus Christ passed over from death to life, the Church calls upon her children scattered throughout the world to come together to watch and pray. Let us pray that God will inflame us with new hope and purify our hearts as we celebrate this sacred light."
The priest blessed the fire, his words carrying solemnity and hope: "Father, we share in the light of your glory through your Son, the light of the world. Make this new fire holy, and inflame us with new hope. Purify our minds by this Easter celebration and bring us one day to the feast of eternal light."
Father Chris took a long wooden rod tipped with a wick, lit it from the Easter fire, and used it to ignite the Easter candle. Deacon Paul held the candle high as Father Chris declared, "May the light of Christ, rising in glory, dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds."
The congregation responded together, "Thanks be to God."
Deacon Paul began the procession, leading the way toward the church with the Easter candle held high. At the church doors, he paused and turned to the crowd, singing, "Christ, our light!"
"Thanks be to God," came the united response.
One by one, the congregation's candles were lit from the Easter candle, the flame passed gently from person to person until the courtyard was aglow with hundreds of flickering lights. The warmth of the firelight reflected in the faces of the faithful as they followed Father Chris and Deacon Paul into the darkened church.
Inside, the nave was cloaked in shadow, the only illumination coming from the procession of candles. As Deacon Paul reached the altar, he turned one final time to sing, "Christ, our light!"
"Thanks be to God," the people answered, their voices echoing softly through the sacred space.
The Easter candle was placed on its stand, its flame casting a steady glow that reached into the farthest corners of the church. Deacon Paul began to chant the Exsultet, the Easter Proclamation, his voice rising and falling in a melody that filled the air with awe and joy:
"Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels! Exult, all creation around God's throne! Jesus Christ, our King, is risen! Sound the trumpet of salvation! Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor, radiant in the brightness of your King! Christ has conquered! Glory fills you! Darkness vanishes forever!"
The chant continued, weaving a tapestry of praise and redemption that seemed to lift the spirits of everyone present. Ryder's chest swelled with a sense of belonging and purpose as he listened, the ancient words resonating deeply in his soul.
When the proclamation concluded, Father Chris stepped forward and greeted the congregation. "The Lord be with you."
"And with your spirit," they replied.
Father Chris began the solemn prayers of praise, his voice steady and reverent: "It is truly right that with full hearts and minds and voices we should praise the unseen God, the all-powerful Father, and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ…"
The prayer painted vivid images of God's saving acts throughout history: the deliverance of Israel, the triumph of Christ over death, and the boundless mercy of God's love. The congregation's final "Amen" resounded as the electric lights of the church were switched on, revealing the beauty of the sanctuary.
The Liturgy of the Word began, recounting God's mighty works. Ryder listened intently as the seven readings were proclaimed, from the creation of the world to the promise of a new heart and a new spirit. Each reading was punctuated by solemn psalms and prayers, the congregation rising and kneeling in a rhythm of worship that mirrored the journey of salvation history.
Then came the Gloria, the bells ringing joyously as the organ swelled with triumphant notes. A reading from the Letter to the Romans followed, and then the Gospel: the account of the women discovering the empty tomb. Ryder felt chills as the words were read: "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen."
The church lights dimmed as the Liturgy of Baptism began. The cantor led the congregation in chanting the Litany of the Saints, the ancient invocation of holy men and women whose intercession was called upon to accompany the candidates on their spiritual journey. As Father Chris, Deacon Paul and the altar boys, and the catechumens and their sponsors processed to the baptismal font, he haunting melody filled the church, echoing in every corner:
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, have mercy on us.
Lord, have mercy on us.
Christ, hear us; Christ, graciously hear us.
God, the Father of Heaven, have mercy on us.
God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have mercy on us.
God the Holy Spirit, have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy on us.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us.
Saint Joseph, pray for us.
Saint Michael, pray for us.
Saint Peter and Saint Paul, pray for us.
Saint Francis of Assisi, pray for us.
All you holy men and women, pray for us.
As the chant concluded, Father Chris stepped forward, his voice resonating with solemnity and hope. He extended his hands over the baptismal font and began the blessing of the water:
"Almighty and eternal God, be present in this sacrament of your love. Send your Spirit of adoption on those to be born again in baptism. And may the work of our humble ministry be brought to perfection by your mighty power."
He continued, recounting the history of salvation through water, his words weaving a tapestry of divine grace:
"At the very dawn of creation, your Spirit breathed on the waters, making them the wellspring of all holiness. The waters of the great flood you made a sign of the waters of baptism, that make an end of sin and a new beginning of goodness. Through the waters of the Red Sea you led Israel out of slavery, to be an image of God's holy people, set free from sin by baptism."
Father Chris took the Easter candle and lowered its base into the font, the light illuminating the rippling water as he invoked the Holy Spirit:
"May all who are buried with Christ in the death of baptism rise also with him to newness of life. We ask this through Christ our Lord."
"Amen," murmured the catechumens and congregation alike.
Father Chris turned to the catechumens and asked a series of questions, his voice steady and clear:
"Do you reject Satan, and all his works, and all his empty promises?"
"I do," they responded in unison.
"Do you believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, died, and was buried, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father? Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting?"
Again, their voices rose as one: "I do."
Ryder stepped forward, his heart pounding. Mr. Porter stood beside him, his hand resting gently on Ryder's shoulder as a silent gesture of encouragement. Ryder stood before the font, and Father Chris took a large seashell, pouring water over his head three times.
"I baptize you, Ryder, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."
The cool water cascaded down Ryder's face, and in that moment, he felt an indescribable lightness, as though the weight of his old self had been washed away. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with the baptismal water. He watched as the other catechumens were baptized, a radiant smile remaining on his face.
The newly baptized processed to the front of the church, stopping at the sanctuary steps, and Father Chris prepared to administer the sacrament of Confirmation.
He anointed Ryder's forehead with the chrism oil, the fragrance wafting through the church, sealing Ryder with the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Calling him by the name of his chosen confirmation patron, Father Chris said, "Michael, be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit."
Ryder replied, "Amen."
Father extended his hand. "Peace be with you."
"And with your spirit," Ryder answered, feeling an inner strength settle over him.
The congregation burst into joyous applause as Ryder and the other catechumens took their seats, now fully members of the Church. The choir chanted the Vidi Aquam, and Father Chris processed through the aisles, sprinkling the congregation with holy water as a symbol of their own baptismal renewal.
As the altar was prepared, a reverent hush fell over the church. Father Chris began the Eucharistic Prayer, his voice steady as he called upon the Holy Spirit to sanctify the bread and wine.
"Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God, the Almighty Father."
The congregation responded: "May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands for the praise and glory of his Name. For our good and the good of all his holy Church."
Father Chris continued to recite the prayer, and as the consecration was complete, he raised the Host to the heavens, Deacon Paul raising the chalice. Father Chris chanted with wonder in his eyes, "Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, Almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, for ever and ever."
The congregation's resounding "Amen" filled the sacred space.
The Lord's Prayer followed, and then the Agnus Dei was sung. Ryder knelt, his heart pounding as he prepared to receive Holy Communion for the first time. Father Chris raised the Host, proclaiming: "Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb."
Ryder, along with the congregation, murmured the response: "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."
Ryder knelt, his heart racing. This was the moment he had waited for—the culmination of his journey. As the communion procession began, Ryder joined the other newly baptized, his steps steady as he approached the altar.
Ryder knelt and Father Chris bent down, holding the Host before him.
"The Body of Christ," he said.
"Amen," Ryder whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He received the Most Holy Eucharist, tears again streaming down his face as he made the Sign of the Cross. Consuming the Host, he returned to his seat, kneeling in prayer and thanking God for the gift of faith.
He felt the words of Scripture come alive within him: "Taste and see that the Lord is good."
The Easter Vigil Mass had ended with resounding joy, the choir's triumphant rendition of Jesus Christ Is Risen Today still echoing in Ryder's ears as the congregation filed out into the cool night air. The Easter fire continued to burn as people mingled in the courtyard, their faces lit with the warm glow of the risen Christ's light.
Ryder lingered near the doors of St. Francis of Assisi Church, his heart full yet quiet as he tried to process the transformative moments he had just experienced.
"Congratulations, Ryder," Mr. Porter said, his voice dripping with joy. "You heard the Lord calling, you answered, and here you are."
"Thanks, Mr. Porter, and thanks for being part of my journey."
"Of course," the older man beamed. "And, you know, I'm officially your godfather now, so if you ever have any questions, please don't hesitate to drop by my restaurant to talk."
Ryder nodded and bid Mr. Porter a good night and a happy Easter.
"Ryder!" a familiar voice called out, breaking through the crowd. He turned to see Joseph striding toward him, his arms open wide. Without hesitation, Joseph pulled Ryder into a firm embrace. "Welcome home, brother," Joseph said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of you."
Before Ryder could respond, Katie appeared at Joseph's side, her face glowing with joy. She didn't wait for an invitation, throwing her arms around both of them in a group hug. "Ryder, I can't believe this! You made it!" she said, her voice trembling slightly. She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. "How do you feel?"
Ryder smiled, tears welling in his eyes. "Like I've finally found where I belong."
The moment was interrupted by a chorus of excited barks. Ryder looked up to see the PAW Patrol bounding toward him, their tails wagging furiously. Chase led the charge, his usual composure giving way to uncontainable excitement. "Ryder! We're so proud of you!" he barked, his voice brimming with genuine admiration.
The rest of the team piled in, surrounding Ryder with warmth and energy.
Zuma wagged his tail so hard it was a wonder he stayed upright. "Dude, that was like, the most awesome thing ever. And you're, like, totally glowing!"
Rocky stepped forward last, his expression thoughtful and sincere. "Ryder… you inspire all of us, you know that? Not just because of what you do, but because of who you are. Thanks for letting us be a part of this."
"Thanks, Rocky," Ryder said, his voice quiet but steady. "I couldn't have done it without all of you."
Ryder glanced to the side and noticed Raine standing shyly at the edge of the group. The Australian Cattle Dog looked a bit overwhelmed by the exuberant celebration. Ryder extended a hand, his smile encouraging. "Raine, right? Come here."
She hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, her cautious demeanor softening as Ryder bent down and scratched gently behind her ears. "You're part of this now, too," Ryder said, "… if you want to be. Will you come back to the Lookout with us?"
Raine gave a small wag of her tail, her gaze meeting Ryder's with gratitude and trust. "Pretty hard to resist a chance to sleep inside for once."
Ryder smiled and nodded before standing up. Tonight could end up being a new start for more than one of us, he thought to himself.
Joseph placed a hand on Ryder's shoulder, his voice gentle but firm. "This is just the beginning, you know. There's a lifetime of growing in faith ahead of you."
"I know," Ryder replied. "I plan to make the most of every single moment of my new life in Christ."
The group began to move toward their vehicles, the dogs chattering excitedly about Easter breakfast and decorations. As they walked, Ryder glanced back at the towering spire of St. Francis of Assisi Church, its bells tolling in celebration.
His gaze moved further upward to the now crystal-clear sky brimming with stars and whispered a simple prayer under his breath: "Thank you for bringing me home."
As he turned back to join his friends—his family—Ryder felt a profound peace settle over him. The night air was alive with the joy of the Resurrection, and he knew, deep in his soul, that this was only the beginning of a beautiful new chapter.
Notes:
Okay, I'll try not to do any heavily religious episodes for a while after this, but I felt it important to go all in and describe the events that constitute the end (beginning?) of Ryder's conversion arc. Even if you're not Catholic/religious yourself, I hope you've found some value in the growth of Ryder's character over the course of his spiritual journey.
Chapter 13: The Rescue Relay
Chapter Text
The morning sun bathed the Lookout in golden light, filtering through the windows and casting soft shadows along the polished floors. The air carried the crisp freshness of late April, the last hints of winter finally giving way to the warmth of spring.
Inside the main lounge, the PAW Patrol gathered in their usual spots, some lounging, others idly chatting as they enjoyed a rare moment of calm. Skye stretched luxuriously on the couch, her tail wagging lazily, while Rubble sprawled out on a beanbag, absentmindedly tossing a rubber ball into the air and catching it again.
"I dunno about you guys," Rubble said between tosses, "but I feel like today's gonna be a good day."
"Oh yeah?" Chase smirked from where he sat, casually observing. "What makes you say that?"
Rubble grinned, still tossing the ball. "Just got a feeling. Like something cool is gonna happen."
Before anyone could respond, the familiar ding of Ryder's communicator echoed through the room. Raine, sitting in a corner of the room, gave a curious glance as the team perked up, ears twitching in anticipation as Ryder pulled the device from his pocket and answered the call.
"This is Ryder."
A warm, familiar voice came through the speaker. "Ryder, it's Principal Carter from Adventure Bay Elementary. How are you?"
"I'm doing great! What can we do for you?" Ryder asked, his tone friendly. The team leaned in with curiosity.
"Well," Principal Carter continued, "we're hosting a Rescue Relay Race this Saturday, and we were hoping the PAW Patrol could lend a paw. It's a fun obstacle course that teaches the kids about teamwork and basic rescue skills, inspired by the PAW Patrol's work. I thought it'd be great to have the real heroes there to inspire them."
"A rescue relay?" Rubble perked up immediately, his ears standing tall.
"That sounds awesome," Skye added, her wings fluttering briefly with excitement.
Ryder chuckled at their enthusiasm. "That sounds like a great event, Ms. Carter. We'd love to help out!"
"That's fantastic! We were hoping some of your team could pair up with the kids and guide them through the course," Principal Carter said. "Would any of the pups be interested?"
Ryder glanced at the group. He didn't even have to ask—Rubble was already sitting up, practically vibrating with excitement, while Skye looked eager as well.
"Rubble and Skye, what do you think?" Ryder asked with a knowing smile.
Rubble shot to his paws. "Oh yeah! Count me in!"
"Me too!" Skye added with a confident grin. "Helping the kids gain confidence? That's totally my kind of mission."
Ryder nodded, pleased with their enthusiasm. "That's great! Ms. Carter, we'll be there first thing Saturday morning to help set up."
"Perfect! We're so excited to have you all. Thanks again, Ryder."
"Anytime!" Ryder replied before ending the call.
The room buzzed with excitement. Rubble was practically bouncing in place. "Oh man, I can't wait! Teaching the kids how to do rescues? This is gonna be so much fun!"
"Not to mention," Skye said with a playful smirk, "I get to show them how to be fearless and quick on their paws."
Rubble laughed. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see who the kids love more."
The others chuckled at their friendly rivalry as Ryder clapped his hands together. "Alright, Rubble and Skye, you two get ready to be the best mentors these kids have ever had."
"Don't worry, Ryder," Skye said with a wink. "They're in good paws."
Rubble gave a confident nod. "Yeah! This is gonna be the best rescue relay ever!"
With that, the excitement filled the air, setting the tone for the fun-filled event ahead.
The morning of the Rescue Relay Race arrived with the perfect balance of cool spring air and warm sunshine. The school field was already buzzing with excitement as teachers and volunteers bustled around, setting up the course. Laughter and chatter filled the air, the energy of the children infectious.
Rubble and Skye trotted onto the field, their tails wagging as they took in the obstacle course. It was an impressive setup:
A small agility course with cones, tunnels, and hurdles to test speed and coordination.
A balance beam suspended just above a shallow "mud pit" to teach focus and stability.
A sandbox digging station, where kids would search for toy rescue tools buried beneath the sand.
A simulated rescue, where teams would work together to retrieve a stuffed animal "trapped" in a tree.
Rubble's eyes lit up as he took in the scene. "Whoa, this place looks amazing! It's like a mini training ground for junior rescue recruits!"
Skye nodded, her eyes scanning the setup with approval. "It's perfect! These kids are gonna have a blast."
As they walked onto the field, Principal Carter approached them with a warm smile. She was a middle-aged woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a kind yet authoritative demeanor.
"Rubble, Skye, it's great to see you both!" she greeted.
"We wouldn't miss it!" Skye said, wagging her tail. "This is an awesome setup."
"Glad you think so," Principal Carter chuckled. "We've got a great group of kids this year—eager to learn, but some of them might need a little confidence boost. That's where you two come in."
"Don't worry," Rubble said with a proud grin. "We've got this."
Nearby, a group of kids had gathered, watching with wide eyes as Rubble and Skye spoke with Principal Carter. One boy, no older than seven, tugged on his friend's sleeve. "Whoa… those are real PAW Patrol dogs."
Another child gasped. "They're so cool!"
Skye flicked an ear at the whispering and turned, flashing the kids a bright smile. "Hey there, future rescuers! Ready to take on the challenge today?"
A chorus of excited "Yeah!" and "Let's do it!" followed, making Rubble chuckle.
One of the teachers approached, clipboard in hand. "Rubble, we could use your help moving some of the heavier equipment before we start."
"On it!" Rubble barked, springing into action. He trotted over to a stack of sandbags meant to stabilize the balance beam station and easily hoisted them onto his back. The kids watching gawked.
"Whoa," a little boy murmured. "He's so strong!"
Another girl clapped her hands. "Rubble's gonna be our team leader, right?"
Rubble beamed as he carefully placed the sandbags in position. "I'll do my best to make sure you guys win!"
Meanwhile, Skye walked over to the balance beam, where a few kids were testing it out under the supervision of a teacher. One girl, Mia, stood hesitantly at the edge, chewing her lip as she watched others cross.
Skye padded up beside her. "Hey there. You okay?"
Mia hesitated. "I—I don't know if I can do it. What if I fall?"
Skye gave her a reassuring smile. "Falling's just part of learning! And besides, the mud pit's just pretend—it won't hurt a bit." She playfully nudged Mia's arm. "Come on, I'll show you how to do it."
With effortless grace, Skye leaped onto the beam and trotted across, demonstrating perfect balance. She reached the other side and turned with a triumphant wag of her tail.
"See? It's all about keeping your eyes forward and trusting yourself."
Mia took a deep breath and hesitantly placed a foot on the beam. Skye walked beside her at a slow, steady pace, encouraging her every step of the way. By the time Mia reached the other side, her nervous frown had turned into a huge smile.
"I did it!" she squeaked.
"You sure did!" Skye praised. "And you'll do even better when the race starts!"
Mia beamed, and a few of the other kids clapped. Principal Carter, who had been watching from a distance, nodded in approval.
"Great work, you two," she told Rubble and Skye. "The kids already adore you."
Rubble puffed out his chest. "Well, we are kinda the best at what we do."
Skye rolled her eyes playfully. "And so humble."
Principal Carter laughed. "Alright, let's get everyone lined up—the Rescue Relay Race is about to begin!"
As the kids gathered, buzzing with excitement, Rubble and Skye took their positions, ready to lead their teams to victory.
Colorful banners flapped in the breeze, and a lively crowd of students, teachers, and parents gathered around the designated relay course.
Rubble and Skye stood at the starting area, each flanked by a group of eager children. The students wore brightly colored bandanas to indicate their teams—Team Rubble in yellow and Team Skye in pink.
Ms. Carter, the school principal, stepped forward with a microphone, her smile warm and enthusiastic. "Welcome, everyone, to this year's Rescue Relay Race! Today, we'll see some amazing teamwork as our students tackle different rescue challenges, guided by none other than the PAW Patrol's very own Rubble and Skye!"
The children erupted into cheers, and both pups beamed with pride.
"You guys ready for some fun?" Rubble called out, his tail wagging.
"Yeah!" the kids cheered.
Skye stepped forward, offering an encouraging nod. "Remember, today isn't about winning—it's about learning how to work together and never give up!"
The kids clapped and cheered again.
Ms. Carter raised a small flag. "On my signal… GO!"
Obstacle 1: The Agility Course
Both teams rushed forward to the first challenge—a winding agility course filled with cones, tunnels, and small hurdles.
Rubble's team quickly realized that speed was not necessarily their strong suit. Some kids hesitated at the hurdles, unsure if they could make the jump.
"Don't worry, dudes!" Rubble called out. "One step at a time! You don't have to be fast—you just have to keep moving!"
With his encouragement, the kids took it one obstacle at a time, slowly building confidence.
Meanwhile, Skye's team flew through the course with impressive coordination. Skye led by example, gracefully weaving through the cones and leaping over hurdles with ease. The kids followed her lead, their enthusiasm growing.
At the finish line, Team Skye was slightly ahead, but the race was far from over.
Obstacle 2: The Balance Beam Challenge
The second station featured a narrow balance beam stretched over a shallow "mud pit." It wasn't real mud—just a soft foam mat colored brown—but it certainly looked daunting to the kids.
One by one, they stepped onto the beam, arms stretched wide for balance.
Mia, a shy girl on Team Skye, hesitated at the edge. "I—I don't think I can do it," she murmured, shifting nervously.
Skye landed lightly beside her. "You've got this, Mia! Just keep your eyes forward and trust yourself. I'll be right here with you."
Mia took a shaky breath and stepped forward. One step. Then another. And another.
Her teammates cheered as she made it across without falling.
Meanwhile, over at Team Rubble's side…
"Oof—!" A boy wobbled on the beam, his arms pinwheeling.
Rubble gasped. "Hang in there, buddy! Tiny steps!"
The boy steadied himself and, with a determined nod, carefully crossed the rest of the way.
Both teams finished at about the same time, keeping the race neck-and-neck.
Obstacle 3: Digging for Tools
The next challenge required the kids to dig through a sandbox to find buried toy rescue tools.
"Alright, Team Rubble! This is our event!" Rubble grinned, his paws practically itching to jump in himself. "We're gonna dig, dig, dig!"
His team dove into the sand, eagerly scooping and searching for the hidden items.
Meanwhile, Team Skye took a more strategic approach. Instead of digging wildly, Skye encouraged them to use teamwork, dividing the sandbox into sections.
The results? Both teams finished at the same time!
Final Obstacle: The Stuffed Animal Rescue
At the last station, each team had to "rescue" a stuffed animal from a tree branch and carry it to the finish line together.
Team Rubble's plush toy was a big, fluffy teddy bear. Team Skye had a cute plush kitten.
The moment they reached the trees, a gust of wind blew through the field—knocking Team Skye's kitten even higher into the branches!
(The children didn't see the school custodian hoisting the toy up into the tree with a fishing line, Skye's idea to give the show a little kick...)
"Oh no!" one of the kids gasped.
"Skye! What do we do?" Mia asked.
Skye smiled. "I got this."
With a flick of her wings, Skye took off, soaring up and gracefully plucking the stuffed kitten from the tree. She swooped down and placed it safely in Mia's arms.
"Wow…" Mia whispered in awe.
Team Rubble had their own challenge: the teddy bear was big—too big for just one person to carry!
Rubble grinned. "Alright, team! This one's gonna take some serious teamwork!"
The kids worked together, lifting the bear together and holding it steady as they made their way toward the finish line.
As both teams approached the final stretch, something amazing happened:
Instead of competing, the kids from both teams joined forces, running side by side and carrying their stuffed animals together!
The entire field erupted into cheers as everyone crossed the finish line at the same time.
Ms. Carter clapped her hands together as the kids gathered at the finish line. "That was incredible! You all worked so well together!"
The kids cheered, high-fiving each other.
Rubble laughed. "That was awesome!"
Skye grinned. "And you all proved that teamwork is the real key to a rescue!"
Mia stepped up to Skye, clutching the plush kitten. "I was really scared at first, but you helped me be brave. Thank you, Skye."
Skye gave her a gentle nuzzle. "You were brave all along, Mia. You just needed to believe it."
Ms. Carter raised her microphone. "Let's hear it for all of our young rescue heroes today!"
The kids and their families cheered wildly, and the event wrapped up with each child receiving a medal for participation.
As they all posed for a group photo—Rubble, Skye, and the kids smiling brightly—Rubble sighed happily. "Best. Day. Ever."
Skye chuckled. "Agreed."
Back at the Lookout, the atmosphere was far less cheerful than at the school. The usual routine of maintenance, training, and organization was in full swing, but for two particular dogs, the air crackled with unspoken tension.
Rocky and Raine had spent most of the morning in the workshop, tending to gear maintenance. Or rather, Rocky had been tending to the gear while Raine lounged nearby, watching with little enthusiasm.
Rocky adjusted his goggles and sighed as he tightened a loose bolt on a rescue harness. "Y'know, Raine, you could help out here," he said, trying to keep his tone light.
Raine, lying on her side near the entrance, flicked an ear but didn't move. "I don't really know how," she replied flatly. "Looks like you've got it under control."
Rocky scoffed. "It's not that hard. Here, I'll show you." He nudged a wrench toward her. "You just have to tighten these bolts so the harnesses don't come loose mid-mission."
Raine exhaled sharply through her nose, staring at the wrench as if it had personally offended her. "Yeah… I think I'll pass."
Rocky's tail flicked, but he forced a chuckle. "Alright, no problem. Maybe you'd rather help organize the tools?"
Raine just shrugged. "I don't really see the point. You'll just do it yourself anyway. I know your type—super organized, very particular about the order of things."
Rocky set down his wrench a little harder than necessary. "The point is that it's part of being on a team. We all pitch in."
Raine finally sat up, her ears angling back. "Yeah, but am I really on the team?" she countered. "I'm just… here right now."
Rocky stared at her, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "So what? You're just waiting around until you find something better?"
Raine huffed, standing up and stretching. "Maybe. I don't know yet."
Rocky shook his head, clearly frustrated. "You know, Ryder gave you a home. You could at least try to be part of the team."
That did it. Raine's tail stiffened, her blue eyes flashing with irritation. "You act like I owe Ryder something," she snapped. "I'm glad to have a place to rest, but I never asked for this."
Rocky's fur bristled. "No, you didn't. But that doesn't mean you can just sit back and do nothing while the rest of us work."
Raine scoffed, shaking her head.
Rocky sighed. "Look, I get it. I was a stray too, for a while, but I came here because I wanted to do something with my life. And it's the best thing I could've done for myself."
"Oh, so now you're the expert on what's best for me?" Raine shot back. "Rocky, you don't know anything about me, so don't pretend you understand."
Rocky's frustration boiled over. "I understand selfishness."
Silence.
The words hung between them like a blade. Raine's expression hardened, but there was something else flickering behind her eyes—something raw and wounded.
Rocky didn't realize what he had said until it was too late.
Raine's ears flattened against her head. She took a step back, then another. Her breathing was steady, but her gaze had gone cold. She refused to cry—not here. "Screw this," she muttered, turning away.
"Raine—" Rocky started, guilt creeping into his voice.
But she was already walking out of the workshop. Not stomping or storming—but moving with a quiet, determined anger. She didn't want to snap back, she just wanted out.
Rocky let out a heavy sigh, running a paw down his face. He knew he had messed up. But he didn't know how to fix it.
And right now, he wasn't sure he'd get the chance.
The late afternoon sun hung low over Adventure Bay, casting long shadows across the streets. The air was cool and crisp from the earlier rainfall, but Raine hardly noticed. Her paws moved on instinct, carrying her away from the Lookout, away from Rocky, away from the bitter, stinging words that still echoed in her head.
She wasn't sure where she was going. She just needed to go.
When she finally slowed, she realized where she had ended up:
St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church.
The stone steps stretched before her, worn smooth by time and footsteps. The great wooden doors stood closed, but the silence of the place wrapped around her like a heavy cloak.
Her throat tightened.
A week ago, she had been here. She had stood in the shadows, watching the Easter Vigil unfold like something out of a dream. She hadn't meant to stay, but the warmth of the candlelight, the voices lifted in song, the feeling of belonging that filled the air—it had held her there.
And now?
Now she was back.
And she felt completely and utterly lost.
She slowly climbed the steps, her legs feeling heavier with each movement. She sat down near the top, curling her tail around herself, her ears low. She took in a shaky breath, willing herself to hold it together, but her chest ached, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop the hot, stinging tears that slipped down her cheeks.
She wasn't supposed to cry.
She had spent the last two years learning how to be tough, how to be independent, how to keep everything locked inside where no one could use it against her.
But right now, she just felt tired.
She didn't even notice the sound of the church doors opening.
"Raine?" came a deep, gentle voice.
She startled slightly at the voice and quickly wiped at her face with her paw. Looking up, she saw Joseph standing at the top of the steps, a folder of sheet music tucked under his arm. His brows were drawn together in concern as he looked at her.
He must have been at the church practicing the organ—his hands still carried faint traces of ink where he had jotted notes in the margins of his music. But now, whatever he had been doing no longer seemed to matter. His full attention was on her.
"…Hey," she said, her voice hoarse from the lump in her throat.
Joseph hesitated for only a second before he walked over and sat down beside her on the steps. He didn't speak right away. He didn't ask questions. He simply settled in, allowing the silence to stretch between them, giving her the space to speak first.
For a long moment, Raine didn't say anything.
Then, finally, she exhaled. "I don't know what I'm doing."
Joseph nodded, as if he understood. "That's okay."
Raine gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "Rocky doesn't think so."
Joseph tilted his head slightly. "What happened?"
Raine clenched her jaw. "We argued," she muttered.
A beat of silence.
"He thinks I owe Ryder for taking me in. That I should just fall in line and join the team because I owe him." Her voice grew sharper, frustration bubbling up again. "I never asked for this. I never asked for any of this."
Joseph listened, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. "So, what do you want for yourself?"
Raine opened her mouth—but no words came.
She didn't know.
She had spent so long just surviving that she had never stopped to think about anything else.
Her stomach twisted, and she lowered her head. "I haven't belonged anywhere in a long time," she muttered. Then, after a moment, her voice grew even quieter. "…The last time I did… well, let's just say…"
She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat only grew. She blinked rapidly, but the tears came anyway, slipping past her defenses.
Joseph didn't push her to continue.
He didn't press her for details, didn't ask questions she wasn't ready to answer.
Instead, he reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. When she didn't, he rested a gentle hand on her back—a warm, steady presence.
They sat in silence for a long moment, the soft sounds of the evening filling the air around them as Joseph petted the stray comfortingly.
Then, when he sensed Raine had calmed down, Joseph finally spoke.
"Ryder is a great guy," he said quietly, "and what he's doing—it's good work. But that doesn't necessarily mean his program is right for everyone."
Raine glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
"If things at the Lookout aren't working out," Joseph continued, "you're welcome to stay with me."
Raine blinked. "What?"
Joseph gave her a small, knowing smile. "I've got space. And Callie's there a lot; she could use some company when Katie's busy."
Raine let out a short, breathy laugh—half amused, half disbelieving. "You're serious?"
Joseph shrugged. "There's no 'program' at my place. No missions. No heroes. Just music and the smell of gourmet cooking—my hobby. Think about it."
Raine turned away, staring back at the horizon.
For the first time all day, her chest didn't feel quite as tight.
She didn't answer right away.
But she did think about it.
The sun was beginning to set over Adventure Bay, casting the Lookout in the cool, peaceful embrace of the evening. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and lively. The team was gathered in the common area, lounging after a long but fulfilling day.
Rubble and Skye, still buzzing with excitement from the Rescue Relay Race, sat at the center of the group, recounting the best moments to Chase and Marshall.
"I swear, those kids were natural diggers!" Rubble grinned, sprawled comfortably on one of the beanbags. "They just needed a little coaching."
"And a little encouragement," Skye added, her tail wagging as she sipped from a bowl of water. "Mia did amazing. She was so scared of that balance beam, but she powered through."
"You really made an impact," Ryder said, walking in from the kitchen with a tray of snacks. "I just got off the phone with Ms. Carter, and she couldn't stop talking about how much fun the kids had. You didn't just teach them about rescues—you inspired them."
Skye and Rubble beamed at the praise, exchanging satisfied glances as the team reached for the treats Ryder had brought.
"Where's Raine?" Ryder asked after a moment, looking around.
Rocky, who had been unusually quiet the entire conversation, stiffened at the question. His ears lowered slightly, and his gaze flickered toward the door. "She—" He hesitated, rubbing a paw against his leg. "She left earlier."
Before Ryder could ask anything more, the Lookout's doors slid open.
All eyes turned as Raine stepped inside.
The Australian Cattle Dog stood in the doorway, her expression guarded but firm. The tension in the room shifted immediately—everyone was relieved to see her but could sense something was different.
Ryder stepped forward, his voice careful. "Hey, Raine. Everything okay?"
Raine didn't answer right away. She exhaled slowly, glancing around at the team before finally locking eyes with Rocky.
"I just wanted to let you all know," she said, her voice even but carrying weight, "I'm moving in with Joseph."
Marshall blinked. "Wait—what?"
"You're leaving?" Zuma asked, his ears perking up in confusion.
Raine nodded. "Yeah."
The reactions varied. Skye and Chase looked at each other in surprise. Marshall shifted uneasily. Even Rubble, who hadn't spent as much time with her, looked taken aback.
But Rocky…
Rocky's stomach twisted. This was his fault.
He stepped forward, ears flattened, his voice quieter than usual. "Raine, I—" He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I was out of line. You don't have to go."
Raine studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "I'm not leaving because of you," she said firmly. "I just… don't think this life is for me."
Rocky flinched slightly, but Raine's tone wasn't harsh—it was honest.
She took a slow breath before continuing. "Trying to force it just made things blow up."
Rocky lowered his gaze, nodding slightly. He understood now. He had been trying so hard to push Raine toward something without realizing that it wasn't hers to embrace.
"Well…" he sighed. "I'm sorry anyway."
"No hard feelings," Raine offered a small but sincere smile. "Seriously."
Rocky smiled in return, but he still felt at fault.
Ryder spoke up, his voice calm and steady. "I created this team to give talking dogs a safe home and a purpose, but this tower isn't the only place you can find those things. Joseph is truly a special person, and on behalf of the PAW Patrol, I wish you the very best with him."
Raine gave him a small nod of appreciation. "Thanks for understanding, Ryder; and thanks for letting me stay here while I figured things out."
There was still a heaviness in the air, but it wasn't the kind of weight that came from resentment—it was from understanding.
"You'll still visit, right?" Skye asked, a hopeful flicker in her eyes. She was just starting to get used to having another girl around to talk to.
Raine smirked slightly. "Yeah, I'll be around."
A small wave of relief washed through the group. It wasn't the ending they had expected, but at least it wasn't goodbye.
As the team watched Raine turn toward the door, Rocky lingered at the back of the group.
When Raine glanced back one last time before stepping out, their eyes met.
Rocky didn't say anything, but this time, he didn't have to.
Raine gave him a single nod—just a slight dip of her head, but it spoke volumes.
Then she was gone.
Rocky sat down heavily, his usual energy replaced with something quieter, something reflective. He let out a slow breath, staring at the doorway she had disappeared through.
A moment later, Ryder sat beside him.
Rocky didn't look up. "I pushed her too hard."
Ryder was quiet for a moment before responding, his voice gentle.
"You can't force someone onto a path they don't want to take," he said. "She has to find it for herself."
Rocky finally looked up at Ryder, his expression weary.
"Do you think she'll be okay?"
Ryder offered a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah," he said. "I think she will."
Rocky exhaled, leaning back against the couch, his thoughts still tangled as the evening turned into night and he went to bed early, the guilt of the day's events wearing on him.
Chapter 14: Chase's Foggy Case
Chapter Text
It was another beautiful day in Adventure Bay, as the May sun cast its warm rays over the idyllic town.
At the Lookout, Ryder lounged in a chair up on the top level's balcony, taking a much-needed rest after a hectic week involving three tense rescues. The spring rains had come fast and furious this year, causing flooding and a whole host of other issues for the rural communities around Adventure Bay.
But today, it was calm.
Ryder's phone rang, and he prayed desperately that no one was in trouble, as he truly wasn't sure that he had the energy to pull off a rescue at that time.
"This is Ryder," he answered the phone.
A gruff voice came through: "This is Detective Nolan of the Foggy Bottom Police Department, Robbery Unit."
Ryder narrowed his eyes. "Something I can help with, Detective?"
Meanwhile, Chase, Marhsall, and Skye were playing volleyball against Rocky, Zuma, and Rubble at the new sandpit and net they had set up on the Lookout campus.
"I got it!" Skye called out as she leapt into the air and spiked the ball.
The ball landed with a thud on the other side of the net, giving Zuma absolutely no chance to save the point, in spite of his impressive dive.
"Dude, Skye!" Zuma exclaimed. "How are you so good at volleyball? It's like no one can score on you, and no one can stop you from scoring."
Skye giggled. "Back when I was a performer, I practiced my agility by playing volleyball against humans. I had to jump really high to keep up with them, but I got pretty good at it, I guess."
"I'll say," Rubble agreed. "I feel like we need jetpacks to keep with you!"
"Yeah, yeah, Skye is amazing—we all know that," Chase managed to say in a tone that was both taunting and flattering at the same time. "Now, can we please get back to the game? It's my serve!"
Just then, all of the dogs' communicators went off, and Ryder's voice came through. "PAW Patrol, to the Lookout."
The dogs groaned, but duty had called, so they quickly ran to the Lookout and got in the elevator.
"It's still my serve when we get back, right?" Chase asked, earning a laugh from the group as the elevator went up.
When they reached the top, the dogs jumped out of the elevator and sat at attention, ready for their orders.
"Thanks for the hustle, everyone," Ryder said in a light tone that was unusual for a mission briefing. "You'll be pleased to hear that there's no emergency today. Instead, I have an exciting announcement."
The dogs turned to each other and murmured, wondering what the announcement could be.
"What's going on?" Rocky asked after a few moments.
"Chase," Ryder began, "you've been invited to shadow a detective in Foggy Bottom to sharpen your investigative skills."
The announcement was met with a mixture of excitement and apprehension from the group. Marshall and Skye immediately congratulated Chase on the opportunity, while Zuma quipped, "Foggy Bottom? Well, if you want to be a police dog, there's plenty of criminals to catch there."
Chase laughed, but he knew Zuma was right. Foggy Bottom was known for being one of the seediest cities on the East Coast. But Zuma was also right that it was probably an excellent place to learn about police work.
"How did this come about?" Chase asked.
"Well," Ryder explained, "I got a phone call from a detective a few minutes ago. He says he's been following our rescues and is impressed by your leadership skills. He also read in a local paper that you have aspirations to be a full-fledged police dog someday, so he asked the Chief of Police if he could invite you to go shadow him for a week to give you a bit of a head start."
"Dude, that's awesome!" Zuma cheered. "You know I like to kid around, but a chance to hang out with real detectives—you're gonna do it, right?"
But Chase was unsure. He turned to Skye.
"You can still serve when you get back," she said, a playful glint in her eye.
Everyone else heard Skye talking about a volleyball game, but Chase knew what she really meant: I support you.
Chase took a deep breath. "Tell him I'll do it!"
Foggy Bottom was exactly as Chase had imagined it—grey skies, damp sidewalks, and the kind of tired, frustrated energy that only a city with too many problems and not enough solutions could give off. The police department sat in the middle of it all, a squat, brick building that had definitely seen better days. A flickering fluorescent light buzzed above the entrance, barely illuminating the words: FOGGY BOTTOM POLICE DEPARTMENT. Chase took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The station smelled like burnt coffee, old paper, and a faint trace of sweat. Phones rang, boots scuffed against linoleum floors, and officers shuffled back and forth, deep in conversations that ranged from casework to weekend plans. It was a far cry from the well-oiled machine of Adventure Bay's emergency response unit. This was organized chaos.
A uniformed officer at the front desk glanced up, looking at Chase like he had just walked in on two legs. "You're the K9 ride-along?" he asked, skepticism thick in his voice.
Chase straightened, ever the professional. "Yes, sir. Chase, reporting for duty."
The officer grunted, reaching for his phone. "Nolan, your guest is here."
A few seconds later, a door at the end of the room swung open, and Detective Ryan Nolan stepped out. He was tall, mid-40s, with dark hair that was starting to silver at the temples. His suit jacket was wrinkled, his tie was loose, and his eyes carried the weight of too many late nights and too little progress. He gave Chase a quick once-over, raising an eyebrow as he folded his arms.
"You're smaller than I expected."
Chase fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was used to this. "And you're more sleep-deprived than I expected," he shot back. "Let's call it even."
That earned a smirk from one of the other detectives lingering nearby, a woman with cropped auburn hair who leaned against a desk, stirring her coffee. Detective Lisa Carter.
"I like him," she said. "He's got bite."
Nolan exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it like he was already regretting this arrangement. "Alright, Chase. Here's the deal. You're here to observe. Ask questions if you need to, but don't slow us down. We've caught a tough one. This isn't some small-town stolen-bike case. We're dealing with a serial armed robber—four robberies and counting. We're stretched thin, and frankly, I don't have time to be babysitting a—" he caught himself before saying dog. He glanced at Chase's police vest, the K9 Officer insignia clear as day. "—a talking police dog."
Chase's ears twitched. He was already getting the sense that Nolan was a stubborn guy, but stubborn didn't bother him. Stubborn meant he cared about his work.
"Understood," Chase replied. "Where do we start?"
Nolan tilted his head toward the bullpen. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the team."
As Chase followed him deeper into the station, past stacks of case files, flickering computer screens, and detectives hunched over desks, he felt it—the hum of a department on edge. Detectives at their wits' end. This wasn't just another case.
Chase was introduced to the senior officer of the unit, Sergeant Alvarez, as well as Chief Harris, who was visiting the stationhouse to get an update on the robberies for the governor. He also met Detective John Riley, the youngest and newest detective in the Robbery Unit.
Just as Chase was getting settled in, Detective Nolan's phone rang. He answered, then hung up and swore under his breath. Chase waited with rapt anticipation as Nolan turned toward him.
"Time to see what you're made of—we got another one," he grumbled.
The air in Foggy Bottom was thick with humidity, the remnants of a brief afternoon drizzle clinging to the cracked pavement. Police cruisers lined the street in front of Jensen's Pawn & Jewelry, their flashing lights reflecting off the wet asphalt in erratic pulses of red and blue. Chase stepped out of the unmarked police car, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the scene.
The glass display window had been reduced to a jagged frame of splintered shards, the remaining pieces glinting under the flickering streetlights. Inside, the crime scene unit was already at work, dusting for prints and snapping photographs of the wreckage. Empty jewelry racks and overturned electronics cases painted a picture of chaos—someone had torn through this place with practiced efficiency.
Detective Nolan was mid-conversation with a frazzled older man—presumably the shop owner—who gestured wildly at the destruction. "This is the third time this month! What's the point of having security cameras if this guy just waltzes in and out like a ghost?"
Nolan sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We'll get him, Jensen. You still got the footage queued up?"
Jensen scoffed, waving toward the back. "Yeah, but it's the same thing as last time. Guy in a ski mask, in and out in under three minutes."
Chase's ears twitched. "Same description?"
"Same everything," Nolan muttered. He motioned for Chase and Riley to follow him toward the shop's rear office, where an ancient-looking desktop played grainy black-and-white security footage. The timestamp in the corner read 9:43 PM.
On screen, a shadowy figure emerged from the alley beside the shop. The suspect moved fast—too fast for a mere opportunist. He carried himself with purpose, smashing the display case with a single, well-aimed strike before scooping valuables into a duffel bag.
Chase narrowed his eyes, noting the way the suspect glanced up before stepping inside. "He's checking for cameras," he muttered.
Nolan exhaled slowly. "Yeah. And that's not all. This guy's not just a thief—he's a showman. He's getting bolder."
Chase's ears perked up at that. "Escalation?"
Nolan nodded grimly. "First robbery was a smash-and-grab at a convenience store. Then a gas station, a high-end boutique, a private residence, and now here. Each hit is bigger, riskier."
"He's chasing the rush," Riley added, arms crossed. "Some guys rob to survive. This one? He's enjoying it."
Chase studied the footage again, instincts churning. "Where did the witness see him run?"
Nolan glanced at his notes. "Alleyway behind the shop. Said he bolted west."
Riley raised an eyebrow. "West? Toward Halverson Street?"
Nolan nodded. "That's what I thought. And guess who just so happens to have an address on Halverson?"
Riley smirked. "Vance Carter."
Chase had been brushing up on Foggy Bottom's frequent offenders, and Vance Carter was exactly the kind of guy who fit the profile. A repeat burglar with a history of armed robbery, Vance had a reputation for knowing how to disappear when the heat was on.
"Let's pay him a visit," Chase said.
Vance Carter's place was a dump. A single-room apartment in a rundown building where the hallway stank of mildew and old takeout. Nolan rapped on the door, a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Foggy Bottom PD. Open up, Vance."
There was a long pause. Then, muffled footsteps.
Chase's sharp ears picked up the sound of a window sliding open.
"He's running," Chase growled.
Riley wasted no time—he slammed his shoulder into the door, busting it open just in time to see Vance hoisting himself out the fire escape.
"I got him!" Chase called, bolting after him. His paws barely touched the ground as he shot through the apartment and leaped onto the rusted fire escape.
Vance hit the alley below running, but he was no match for Chase's speed. The German Shepherd closed the distance in seconds, lunging forward and tackling Vance to the ground.
"Alright, alright!" Vance yelped, throwing up his hands. "I surrender! I didn't do nothin'!"
Chase pinned him, panting lightly. "Funny. I didn't know innocent guys ran."
Riley and Nolan caught up, cuffing Vance while Chase stepped back, catching his breath.
"Looks like we've got our guy," Nolan muttered. "Let's take him in."
Vance sat cuffed to the table, looking utterly unimpressed. His faded hoodie was damp from the alley pavement, and he exuded an air of cocky defiance.
"C'mon, guys," he drawled. "I'm very impressed that you've brought in one of the magic talking dogs from the Adventure Bay rescue squad, but you know I didn't do this."
"Do we?" Nolan said, tossing a manila file onto the table. "Because we've got a witness who says a guy matching your description was fleeing the scene of the pawn shop heist."
"Complete with a ski mask—your M.O." Riley added.
"Yeah?" Vance snorted. "And you ever consider the fact that maybe there's more than one guy in Foggy Bottom with a ski mask?"
Chase watched him carefully. No twitch of nerves. No flicker of guilt. He was too comfortable.
Riley leaned forward. "Your priors make you our prime suspect, Vance. You've got experience, the right skillset, and—conveniently—you happen to live in the exact direction our mystery man was running."
Vance shrugged. "Wow. A guy ran west? What a shocker. Maybe because that's the only way the alley goes."
Chase's tail flicked in irritation. "Where were you tonight at 9:43 PM?"
Vance smirked. "Eating a burger."
Nolan scoffed. "Try again."
Vance leaned back smugly. "No, really. I was at Dan's Diner. Check the security cameras."
Nolan and Riley exchanged skeptical glances, but Chase had a sinking feeling. If this guy was lying, he was way too confident about it.
Thirty minutes later, a grainy feed from Dan's Diner confirmed the truth.
There, on the screen, was Vance Carter, slouched in a booth, casually eating a burger… at the exact time of the robbery.
Silence stretched between them as the implications sank in.
Nolan exhaled sharply, realizing he was back to square one of solving this case.
The late afternoon sun cast golden light over the Lookout, and most of the team was enjoying a rare quiet moment. Rubble was sprawled out on the deck, basking in the warmth, Skye was perched near the edge, watching birds swoop across the coastline, and Rocky was working on some small repairs to one of the pup houses.
Marshall, however, was off by himself, sitting on the top step just outside the main entrance. His gaze was locked on a small, folded piece of paper in his paws. He had read the writing on it at least twenty times since he received it in Adventure City.
Smoke – Call me ; )
(555) 348-0714
Smoke had slipped him the note at the Firedog Competition, and he still wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. At the time, he had just thought she was being friendly. But Zuma had different ideas.
"Ayo, dude, why you lookin' like you just saw a ghost?"
Marshall yelped and nearly toppled over as Zuma plopped down next to him, grinning. The chocolate Lab had been watching Marshall from afar, waiting for the right moment to swoop in with his signature playful nosiness.
"N-nothing!" Marshall stammered, trying to shove the paper under his paw.
Zuma's grin widened. "Bro… you are the worst liar. Whatcha got there?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Love letter?"
Marshall's face turned a shade of red that could rival his fire truck. "It's not a—! I mean, I don't think— It's just a note."
Zuma gave a dramatic gasp. "Wait, is that the note Smoke gave you?"
Marshall sighed, realizing resistance was futile. He nodded sheepishly and pushed the note toward Zuma, who snatched it up with an amused chuckle.
"Call me wink face?" Zuma read aloud, snickering. "Dude. She's crushing on you."
Marshall rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, maybe? I dunno. Maybe she just meant, you know… like, we should keep in touch. Firedog to firedog."
Zuma gave him a look. "Bro. C'mon. If she just wanted a professional connection, she would've said, 'Call the station sometime!' And what do you make of the winky face? Classic flirt move."
Marshall's ears flattened, his stomach flipping nervously. "What if she just put that as a joke?"
Zuma patted him on the shoulder. "There's only one way to find out."
Marshall sighed, staring at the number again. "I dunno. I mean… dogs don't even have cell phones, so what if it's, like, her station's number? Or her human's? I don't wanna call and then get some random firefighter answering like, 'Hello, Adventure City Fire Department, how can we assist you?'"
Zuma cackled at the mental image. "That would be so awkward."
"Exactly!" Marshall groaned, flopping onto his side. "And even if it is her number… what do I even say?"
Zuma tilted his head. "Uh, I dunno… maybe 'Hey Smoke, it's Marshall, you told me to call, so here I am.'"
Marshall stared at him flatly. "That's way too confident."
Zuma smirked. "Okay, fine. How about: 'Hi, Smoke, uh, I found your note—well, not found, you gave it to me, obviously, I mean, I—uh, wait, let me start over—'"
Marshall groaned. "Not helping."
Zuma burst into laughter before calming down. "A'ight, a'ight, I gotcha, dude. Just… be yourself. You're nice, funny, and one of the best firefighters around. And if she likes you, she'll like you. Not some perfectly scripted version of you."
Marshall sighed, his tail giving a small wag at the encouragement. "Yeah… okay. I mean, I could call her…"
Zuma grinned. "Atta boy! Let's do it right now!"
Marshall's eyes widened. "Right now?!"
Zuma was already on his feet, tugging Marshall's paw. "Yeah! Before you chicken out."
Marshall dug his paws into the ground. "Wait, wait, wait, wait—!"
But before Zuma could drag him inside to find Ryder's phone, a familiar sound interrupted the spectacle.
"PAW Patrol, to the Lookout!" Ryder's voice came over their communicators.
Marshall let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh no, a mission! Guess I can't call her right now! What a shame!"
Zuma squinted at him. "You sound way too relieved about that."
Marshall was already running toward the elevator. "Gotta go, duty calls!"
Zuma laughed as he followed. "Yeah, yeah, you got lucky this time, but you ain't dodging this forever, dude."
As the elevator doors closed behind them, Marshall swallowed nervously. Zuma was right: he'd put it off long enough—eventually, he was going to have to make that call.
He just hoped he wouldn't make a total fool of himself when he did.
Tension simmered in the Foggy Bottom Police Department's robbery unit. The failure to charge Vance Carter had left the entire department under a microscope, with the media circling like vultures, questioning why a city already plagued with crime couldn't seem to handle a single robber. And no one felt that pressure more than Detective Nolan.
"This is a joke," Nolan muttered as he rubbed his temples, staring at the crime board filled with blurry surveillance stills and half-baked leads. "We had the guy, Chase. He fit the profile. Then he pulls a perfect alibi out of his pocket like he was waiting for us to show up." He exhaled sharply. "I've worked this city for fifteen years, and even I don't know why this guy keeps getting bolder."
Chase sat in a chair across from him, flipping through the case files. The evidence wasn't clicking. "I think I might know why," Chase said, his voice measured.
Nolan scoffed. "Oh, great. Let's hear it."
Chase stood and walked over to the city map pinned to the board. He pulled out a red marker and circled each robbery location, then stepped back. "Look at this. It's a pattern."
Nolan crossed his arms, unimpressed. "A pattern of what?"
"A spread," Chase said, tapping the clusters of crime scenes. "Every robbery is in a different part of the city, but they're moving outward in a circular formation from downtown. Almost like a controlled spread, not random." His sharp eyes flicked toward Nolan. "It's like he's choosing targets carefully."
Nolan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Coincidence."
Chase frowned. "No way. Criminals don't operate in complete randomness. Even the dumb ones have patterns."
Nolan gave Chase a flat look. "Listen, rookie, I've been doing this for years. Sometimes crime is just crime. No masterminds, no deep conspiracies—just bad guys doing bad things."
"But—" Chase started.
Nolan waved a hand, cutting him off. "Let it go, Chase. We've already got enough people breathing down our necks. We'll wait for this guy to make a mistake."
Chase clenched his jaw. Nolan wasn't seeing it. He couldn't see it. He was too jaded, too deep in the system to step back and look at the bigger picture.
Fine. If Nolan wouldn't listen, Chase would prove it himself.
A few hours later, Chase sat in the records room, away from prying eyes, combing through surveillance footage from the last five robberies. He replayed each clip, scrutinizing every frame—the suspect's movements, the escape routes, the bystanders. But then, something in the background caught his eye.
A police car. Parked nearby in every single robbery.
Chase's pulse quickened as he clicked through the footage. Every time an alarm blared, the nearby patrol car reported its location over the radio… but never responded to the crime. And every single time, the car was gone the moment backup arrived.
His ears flattened slightly. This wasn't coincidence. This was inside help.
The thought that brother officers might be facilitating these crimes filled Chase with a deep rage and made him feel sick.
Chase inhaled deeply and closed the files before heading upstairs to find Sergeant Alvarez.
The seasoned officer was standing near the vending machines, stirring sugar into her coffee when Chase approached. "Sergeant," Chase said in a hushed tone. "I need to show you something."
Alvarez raised an eyebrow, giving him a measured look before nodding. "Alright. Walk with me."
They moved to an empty briefing room, where Chase pulled up the surveillance clips on a screen and pointed out the police vehicles. "Every time there's a robbery, there's a police car stationed nearby, but it never responds," Chase explained. "It's like the officer is standing by to make sure the getaway is smooth."
Alvarez folded her arms, staring at the footage. "And you're telling me Nolan dismissed this?"
Chase hesitated. "… He didn't want to see it."
Alvarez sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. "If you're right, Chase, then someone inside FBPD is helping the robber, which means you'll need overwhelming evidence to gain any leverage… and you'll be on your own to get it."
Chase's ears flicked forward. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Alvarez said, leveling him with a serious look, "if a cop is dirty, no one's going to risk backing an accusation without rock-solid proof. You bring this up without enough evidence, and it's going to blow up in your face. The chief already doesn't like you being here. If you make an enemy in the department, you'll be done before you even start."
Chase absorbed the weight of that. He understood the stakes.
"Then I'll get the evidence," he said firmly.
Alvarez gave a short nod. "Then you better move fast, before they realize you're onto them."
That night, Chase staked out a block near the edge of the robbery pattern. If he was right, the next hit would happen here. He crouched behind a row of parked cars, his vest cam recording everything.
Then, his fur bristled. There it is.
A squad car sat at the curb, empty, its headlights off.
Chase's heart pounded as he pressed lower behind the cars. The seconds dragged, the tension thick in the air. Then—movement.
The suspect emerged from a pawn shop, sprinting into the night with a bag slung over his shoulder. Chase tensed, ready to pursue—but then, just as he predicted, the parked police car flicked on its lights.
But instead of responding to the crime, it turned the corner and disappeared into the fog.
Chase's eyes narrowed. He tapped his camera and smirked.
"Now he'll have to listen to me."
As the PAW Patrol assembled in the briefing room at the top of the Lookout, Ryder pulled up a live feed from Katie's pet parlor. Callie, the mischievous gray tabby, was perched precariously at the top of a tree just outside the shop. Her tail twitched anxiously, and she let out a pitiful meow.
"Looks like Callie got herself in a tough spot again," Ryder reported. "Katie says she chased a butterfly a little too high, and now she's too scared to climb down. Marshall, Rubble, you're up."
Marshall squared his shoulders. "We're on it, Ryder!"
Rubble wagged his tail. "Yeah, piece of cake!"
As they sped toward Katie's, Marshall's thoughts flickered back to the note Smoke had slipped him. He still hadn't decided exactly what to say to her. Would she even remember giving him the number? What was her intention in giving it to him?
He quickly shook his head. Focus, Marshall. Focus.
By the time they arrived at Katie's, a small group of bystanders had gathered to watch the unfolding drama. Callie clung to a branch near the top of the tree, looking every bit like a cat who had made a series of regrettable choices.
Katie sighed in relief when she saw them pull up. "Oh, thank goodness. She won't budge, and I'm afraid if I try to climb up, I might scare her into jumping."
Marshall studied the situation. The tree wasn't particularly tall, but the branches near the top were thin, which meant he'd have to be extra careful climbing up.
"I got this," he reassured her before turning to Rubble. "I'll go up and grab her. Just be ready in case she panics and jumps."
Rubble saluted. "Got the digger on standby!"
With practiced ease, Marshall extended the ladder from his firetruck and began his ascent. His voice remained soft and steady, each word carefully chosen to keep Callie calm.
"It's okay, Callie. I've got you."
The little cat mewed anxiously, shifting her weight ever so slightly, which made the branch wobble. Marshall paused, allowing her to settle before reaching out again.
"You don't want to be up here all day, do you?" he coaxed with a gentle smile.
Callie hesitated for a moment—then, finally, she let out a reluctant meow and allowed Marshall to scoop her up.
"There we go! Safe and sound."
Tucking Callie securely against his chest, Marshall began his descent. The ladder retracted smoothly, and the moment his paws hit the ground, Callie wriggled free and darted straight into Katie's waiting hands.
"You did it!" Katie beamed. "Thank you, Marshall. And you too, Rubble!"
"No problem!" Rubble grinned. "All in a day's work."
Marshall chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She sure knows how to keep things interesting."
The small crowd of onlookers clapped, and Marshall couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. Even a routine rescue like this one was a reminder of why he loved what he did.
Marshall called in to let Ryder know the mission went off without a hitch. Just as he and Rubble were about to head back to the Lookout, Marshall's communicator went off.
Zuma's voice came through: "Yo, dude, don't forget what you have to do!"
Marshall groaned. Right. That.
Rubble glanced at him. "Everything okay?"
Marshall took a deep breath. "Yeah, Zuma's just reminding me that I have a chore to take care of back home. Let's head back."
But as they drove home, he knew there was no avoiding it now. It was time to talk to Ryder.
Chase burst into the Foggy Bottom Police Department, his claws barely making a sound against the polished tile floor. He navigated through the maze of desks and overworked officers, his tail flicking impatiently. The city outside was drowning in fog, but inside the precinct, the air was just as thick—with tension.
Detective Nolan was at his desk, rubbing his temple as he skimmed through a thick case file. He didn't even look up when Chase slid the USB drive onto his desk.
"Detective," Chase said, his voice sharp, "you need to see this."
Nolan sighed, dragging his gaze up from the papers. "If this is another one of your 'patterns,' Chase, I swear—"
"Just look at it."
There was something in Chase's tone—urgent, unwavering. Nolan exhaled sharply and inserted the drive into his computer. The screen flickered, and the footage played.
At first, it seemed like any other security camera reel—grainy, black and white, an empty storefront bathed in pale light. Then, movement. The robber, dressed in dark clothing, darted out of the pawn shop, his bag bulging with stolen goods.
But that wasn't what Chase was focused on.
"Look—there." Chase jabbed a paw toward the side of the screen.
Nolan narrowed his eyes. A police vehicle, parked down the street. Not responding, not even moving. Just… sitting there.
"Keep watching," Chase said.
The timestamp changed, and another robbery played out—same scenario. A nearby squad car, always positioned just out of sight, not responding.
And then another. And another.
Nolan leaned forward, his fingers tightening around the armrests of his chair. He rewound, fast-forwarded, rewound again. His breath hitched.
"No…" he muttered. He rubbed his chin, staring at the screen as if it might give him a different answer. "Someone inside FBPD is pulling the strings."
Chase nodded grimly. "I told you something wasn't right. These guys aren't just lucky—they're being guided."
"Alright, Chase, you better brief us on your pattern again." Nolan shot to his feet. "Next hit, we're gonna be waiting for him."
Marshall's heart pounded as he padded toward Ryder's office, gripping the note with Smoke's number in his paw. The rest of the team was scattered throughout the Lookout, unwinding from the day's work, which meant no one was around to witness his growing anxiety—except Zuma, who had followed him with a knowing smirk.
"Dude, I can practically hear your heart racing from over here."
Marshall groaned. "I don't know why I'm so nervous! It's just a phone call."
Zuma grinned. "Nah, it's not just a phone call. You wanna talk to a super cool, flirty, mischievous firedog who totally slipped you her number and winked at you when she did it."
Marshall's ears burned. "She didn't wink—did she?"
Zuma laughed, nudging him toward the office. "Oh, she totally did. Now, go! I wanna hear all about it later."
Taking a deep breath, Marshall pushed open Ryder's office door. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the large monitor, and Ryder was seated at his desk, scrolling through his tablet. He looked up and smiled when he saw Marshall.
"Hey, Marshall! What's up?"
Marshall hesitated. Now that he was here, the words suddenly felt harder to say. He shuffled his paws. "Um… I was wondering if I could use your phone."
Ryder set his tablet down. "Sure, no problem. What for?"
Marshall cringed. Here we go.
"Well… you remember that firedog from Adventure City? Smoke?"
Ryder nodded, clearly following. "Yeah, she and Seraph were great competitors. Why?"
Marshall awkwardly held up the note. "She, uh… kind of gave me her number before we left, and I was thinking about calling her."
Ryder raised an amused eyebrow. "Oh."
Marshall hurriedly backtracked. "I mean, it's not a big deal! I just—I don't know if she was just being friendly or if she actually wanted me to call, or if it's even her number, or if I'll just be calling the fire station and look like an idiot—"
Ryder chuckled and held up a hand to stop him. "Marshall. Breathe."
Marshall inhaled deeply, then exhaled.
Ryder smiled. "Use the office phone. It syncs to my big screen, so you can video chat. I'm done in here for the day, so you'll have privacy."
Marshall's stomach flipped. Video chat?! That was way more intense than a phone call.
But there was no backing out now.
Ryder stood and petted him on the shoulder. "Good luck, buddy." With that, he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Marshall swallowed hard. "Okay… here goes nothing."
He carefully dialed the number and pressed the call button. The screen flickered to life as it rang. One ring. Two rings. Three—
Then, the call connected.
Smoke's face popped up on the screen, and Marshall barely had time to process the sight before she smirked.
"Well, well, well… look who finally decided to call me."
Marshall's brain short-circuited for a second. "Uh—h-hi, Smoke!"
Smoke leaned back against what looked like a fire station bunk, her sleek black fur illuminated by the warm glow of a desk lamp. "Took you long enough, hotshot. Thought maybe you lost the note."
Marshall laughed nervously. "Oh, uh, nope! Still had it! Just… um…"
Smoke grinned, tilting her head. "What, were you nervous?"
Marshall let out an awkward, high-pitched chuckle. "Me? Nervous? Pfft. Nooo."
Smoke arched an eyebrow. "Mmmhmm."
Marshall rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, maybe a little."
Smoke laughed, her warm, rich voice sending a shiver down Marshall's spine. "Relax, Red. I don't bite."
Marshall smiled sheepishly. "Well, uh… it's good to see you again."
"Likewise," Smoke replied. "So, what made you finally pick up the phone?"
Marshall hesitated, then decided to just be honest. "I, uh… I guess I just wanted to talk to you."
Smoke's smirk softened slightly, and for a moment, her eyes flickered with something other than her usual teasing mischief. "Well, I'm glad you did."
They fell into easy conversation after that. Smoke told him about life at the Adventure City fire station, and Marshall shared a few recent PAW Patrol missions. To his surprise, the nerves melted away, and soon he found himself laughing and joking with her like they were old friends.
At one point, Smoke gave him a sly grin. "So, Marshall… when are you coming back to Adventure City?"
Marshall blinked. "Oh, um… I don't know?"
Smoke chuckled. "Well, I hope it's soon. I'd love to see you again—in person."
Marshall felt his heart do a weird little flip, but before he could respond, Smoke winked.
"Talk soon, Red."
And with that, she ended the call.
Marshall stared at the blank screen for a second, then slowly leaned back in Ryder's chair, exhaling. Wait 'til Chase hears about this.
The next night, a heavy blanket of fog lay thick over the alleyway, swallowing the distant hum of the city. Chase crouched beside Nolan in the shadow of a brick wall, his ears pricked and his eyes locked on the jewelry shop across the street—one of the most high-end in the city.
"If your theory's right," Nolan murmured, "he should hit this place within the next hour."
Chase didn't answer. He was too focused, too wound up. The tension in his muscles was electric.
A metallic creak shattered the silence—the back door of the jewelry shop.
Chase's fur bristled. "He's here."
A shadow moved in the dim streetlight. The robber crept out, a bulging bag slung over his shoulder.
Chase glanced down the street. Just as he suspected, a police cruiser lurked at the intersection.
"Right on schedule," Chase whispered.
The robber turned to make his escape—but this time, Chase and Nolan were already cutting off his route.
"Freeze! Police!" Nolan shouted.
The man skidded to a halt, his breath fogging up in the cold air. His grip on the bag tightened, his eyes darting toward the waiting squad car.
But the car—his escape—was already pulling away, disappearing into the fog.
Panic.
The robber's chest heaved. His options were gone.
"I—I surrender!" He raised his hands, dropping the bag at his feet.
Nolan cuffed him, reading him his rights. Chase, meanwhile, watched the police car vanish into the mist, but not before his sharp eyes caught the glint of the license plate.
"Gotcha," he muttered, quickly committing the number to memory.
Ray Douglas sat at the metal table, arms crossed, his jaw set like stone. He had the look of a man trying to convince himself he was in control.
Chase and Nolan weren't buying it.
They sat across from him, unmoving, unreadable. The only sound was the dull buzz of the overhead light.
"So," Nolan started, voice casual, "you've got quite the record, Douglas. But this? This is big-time. Armed robbery. Multiple counts. You better start talking."
Douglas scoffed. "I've got nothing to say."
Nolan leaned back, rubbing his face. "Right. Of course. You're gonna sit there and take the fall for whoever put you up to this."
Douglas's left eye twitched.
Chase, who had been watching him like a hawk, picked up on the subtle shift in his posture.
He's nervous.
Chase took a different approach. His voice was smooth, almost sympathetic. "You flinched when Nolan said 'fall.'" He leaned forward slightly, tilting his head. "That means you know you're taking the fall for someone."
Douglas's fingers curled into a fist.
"We know there's someone on the inside," Chase continued. "We know they've been feeding you targets, ensuring you had a clean getaway. You're not the mastermind here, Douglas. Just a pawn."
Silence.
"You think they'll protect you?" Nolan pressed. "Because news flash, they already abandoned you. You saw that police car leave you in the dust the moment they saw you were busted."
Douglas's lips parted, but he quickly pressed them together.
Chase's voice dropped to a near whisper. "You tell us who's pulling the strings, and we can work with you. But if you stay quiet, you'll be the only one taking the heat. And they'll find someone else to do their dirty work."
Douglas swallowed. His eyes darted around the room, his mind waging war with itself.
Finally, he exhaled sharply.
"…It wasn't my idea, alright?" His voice was hoarse. "I was hired. Told where to hit, what to take. They said it'd be easy money, and I'd be serving a good cause."
Nolan leaned in. "Who's 'they'?"
Douglas hesitated.
Chase saw the flicker of fear in his eyes before he even spoke. He already knew what name was coming.
Douglas licked his lips, then finally whispered,
"…Chief Harris."
Meanwhile, Internal Affairs also closed in on the resolution of the case.
The room was sterile, clinical—the kind of place that made even the most seasoned officers shift uncomfortably. A single, humming light overhead cast sharp shadows, making the nervous officer sitting in the metal chair look even smaller.
Detective Riley and an Internal Affairs investigator, a stiff-looking man with wire-rimmed glasses, sat across from him. The officer's badge gleamed under the light, but there was no confidence in his posture.
"Officer Jensen," the IA agent began, flipping through a file, "we already know Chief Harris assigned you to patrol near the robbery sites. The question is, why didn't you respond when the alarms were triggered?"
Jensen swallowed. His hands, resting on the table, twitched slightly. "I—I don't know what you mean—"
"Come on," Riley cut in, shaking his head. "We've got footage. You were there, sitting in your car, every single time."
"I—I was just following orders," Jensen stammered.
"Orders from who?" the IA agent pressed.
Jensen hesitated. Then, like a dam breaking, he exhaled and muttered, "Chief Harris."
The room went silent.
The IA agent clicked his pen. "You're saying Chief Harris personally instructed you to be on-site but not intervene?"
Jensen nodded. "Yeah. He told me to report 'situation normal' every time the alarms went off. Said it was a 'containment measure.'" His voice lowered, almost pleading. "Look, I didn't ask questions. He's the Chief, you don't exactly say no to him."
The IA agent twitched; he was skeptical, but remained composed. "How did you receive these orders from Chief Harris?"
"Over the phone," Jensen replied quickly. "Check my phone records!"
Riley narrowed his eyes. "Oh, we will."
Less than an hour later, the heavy wooden doors of Chief Harris's office swung open with a creak. Inside, the man himself sat behind a polished mahogany desk, flipping through a report as if he hadn't just been implicated in a criminal conspiracy.
He didn't even look up when Detective Nolan, Chase, and Sergeant Alvarez walked in.
"Detective, Sergeant," Harris greeted smoothly, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Is the Robbery Unit close to an arrest?"
Nolan didn't waste time. He slapped a manila folder onto the desk. "Cut the crap, Chief."
Harris finally lifted his gaze, his expression one of mild amusement. He flipped open the folder, scanning the contents with the same level of concern one might give a parking ticket.
Chase, standing to Nolan's left, squared his stance. "We know everything. Officer Jensen confessed. We have the phone records. We know you orchestrated this entire thing—using Douglas to commit crimes so you could fabricate a crime wave and force the state to increase police funding."
Harris leaned back in his chair, setting his coffee down with an infuriating lack of urgency. He steepled his fingers. "Hmph. Clever."
Alvarez's arms were crossed, her expression unreadable. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"
The Chief exhaled through his nose. "You think I liked doing this?" His tone remained calm, unbothered, like he was explaining city budgeting instead of a crime. "Foggy Bottom was dying. The state wasn't doing anything. I just gave them a reason to care."
Chase's tail flicked sharply, his blue eyes burning. "At the cost of innocent people's safety and property."
Nolan's voice dropped into a growl. "This whole city's a mess—I've seen it all, but even I didn't think you'd stoop this low."
Harris barely blinked. "And yet, here we are."
Sergeant Alvarez shook her head, her voice quieter but cutting. "You're right, Chief. This city is dying. And you just set us back even further."
For the first time, Harris's smirk faltered.
Silence stretched between them. The weight of the moment pressed down on the room, thick with the realization that Foggy Bottom's top cop had just sealed his own fate.
Sergeant Alvarez sighed. "Chief Harris, please stand up slowly, hands up. I'm going to relieve you of your weapon."
The chief complied, maintaining an air of dignity, while the sergeant took his gun off his hip and stowed it away. "Nolan," Alvarez said, "this one's your collar."
Detective Nolan stepped forward and placed handcuffs on the chief. "Chase, read him his rights."
Chase's tail wagged. He was a real police dog now.
"Chief Harris, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit robbery. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney; if you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights?"
In spite of his betrayal, the look of pride in Chief Harris's eye still gave Chase a feeling of achievement.
"I do," the chief responded, stoic. "Good job, rookie."
Chase nodded, but he couldn't shake a feeling that there was even more to the corruption of Foggy Bottom than he was seeing—a feeling that seemed to validated later that evening. As the story broke, the press mobbed Mayor Humdinger, who outright refused to comment on the scandal.
Night had fallen on Foggy Bottom, and Chase was packing up his things as his week shadowing the Robbery Unit had come to a close.
Detective Nolan had already offered Chase an unceremonious but respectful goodbye, wishing him good luck. Helping to solve the case clearly bought Chase a lot of respect with his new mentor, and he even managed to get Nolan to crack a smile a couple of times on his last day.
Just as Chase was about to leave the station and make the late-night drive home, Detective Riley called out to him. Chase approached Riley's desk, curious.
"I've got something you might want to look into," the young detective said, holding up a case file. "This was my mentor's case—he worked Major Crimes. They ran into dead end after dead end, but maybe you can get further than they did. Fresh eyes, ya know?"
Then, he hesitated before continuing, "Besides, this one might be personal for you."
Detective Riley stood, leaving the case file on his desk, and left the station. "Good luck, Chase."
Chase, eyebrow raised, hopped up into Detective Riley's chair and flipped the case file open, surprised to see a photo of what looked like the Lookout, only it was stark and lacked any color. Instead of the PAW Patrol shield, there was an unfamiliar logo featuring a prominent E on the front of the tower.
He started to read, and his heart stopped as he read the case file summary.
Regarding the case of Drs. Austin and Eva Elegnem, the investigation has been terminated due in equal part to lack of evidence and their deaths in a lab accident, survived by their sole child, Ryder Elegnem.
Chapter 15: A Spark in Adventure City
Chapter Text
On an evening in the last week of May, the Lookout was quiet, save for the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. The sunset bathed everything in gold and pink, but Chase wasn't watching it.
Instead, he sat on the edge of the cliffs, staring at the closed case file in front of him.
It had been two weeks since Detective Riley gave it to him. Two weeks of reading things he wished he hadn't read.
Two weeks of not knowing what to do.
He had told himself he could handle it alone. That it was just another case.
But it wasn't.
The weight of it pressed down on him, heavier than any mission he'd ever faced. And he was tired.
He heard pawsteps behind him. Soft, deliberate. He didn't have to turn around.
He already knew who it was.
Skye. She had a way of finding him when he needed her.
She didn't say anything at first. She just sat beside him, close enough that her fur brushed against his. She didn't push, didn't pry—just let her presence do the work.
And somehow, that alone made it easier to breathe.
"Chase." Her voice was gentle. "Talk to me."
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, slowly, he pushed the case file away from him, like he couldn't stand to have it near anymore.
Skye glanced at it, then at him. "What's that?"
"A case file Detective Riley gave me… about Ryder's parents and their experiments."
She hesitated. "Did you tell Ryder?"
Chase exhaled. "No. And I can't. Not yet."
Skye frowned. She didn't question him—not yet.
Instead, she reached for the file, but Chase stopped her.
"Don't," he said, a little too fast.
Skye blinked, surprised. "Why?"
Chase hesitated. Then, finally, he admitted, "There are pictures."
That was all he had to say.
Skye slowly withdrew her paw, understanding in her eyes.
Instead, she turned toward him fully, focusing on him. "Then just tell me."
Chase swallowed. "It's bad, Skye. Worse than I ever imagined."
She didn't rush him. She just nodded, giving him space to speak.
So he did.
He told her everything.
Thirty cases. Surgical procedures. Forced isolation. Genetic tampering. Psychological conditioning.
The Elegnems hadn't just studied talking dogs. They had experimented on them, modified them, played with their minds and bodies like they were science projects.
And then—when it all fell apart—they destroyed the evidence.
Skye had been quiet before. But now, she stiffened.
"All the subjects died in the accident?"
Chase hesitated. Then, grimly, he shook his head. "Not exactly."
Skye's ears lowered. "What do you mean?"
Chase took a slow breath. "When the feds investigated the site, they checked the crematorium. It had been used. A lot."
Skye's stomach twisted.
Chase's voice was flat, detached—like he had to be, or he wouldn't be able to get the words out.
"It looks like someone tipped the Elegnems off about the raid," he said. "And they… they euthanized all the subjects before it happened. Then the accident came. Ryder survived, no one else."
Skye sucked in a breath.
The wind off the cliffs suddenly felt colder.
For a long moment, she didn't speak. Didn't cry, either.
Instead, she reached for Chase's paw.
Her grip was warm, steady.
Chase's ears twitched. "Aren't you gonna say something?"
Skye's eyes were shining. But her voice was strong.
"I don't need to," she said softly. "I just need to be here."
Chase's breath hitched.
For two weeks, he had carried this weight alone. And now, in an instant, Skye had taken some of it for herself.
Finally, she spoke again. "So what now?"
Chase exhaled. "I don't know."
She searched his face, as if reading something he hadn't said yet. Then, quietly:
"You're afraid to tell Ryder."
It wasn't a question.
Chase nodded. "I can't—not until I know more."
Skye nodded, accepting that.
Then, gently, she let go of his paw.
"Chase," she said, her voice so soft it almost got lost in the wind. "You don't have to do anything. It's your decision. You can leave this alone and walk away."
Chase closed his eyes.
"I wish I could," he whispered.
And he meant it. More than anything.
But when he opened his eyes, they were full of something else.
Determination.
"I can't, Skye. Because I know something's missing."
Skye held his gaze. "Missing?"
Chase nodded. "The Feds never figured out what the ultimate goal of the experiments was. They never got that far."
Skye swallowed. "And you think…?"
"I don't know." His voice was tight. Frustrated. Haunted. "But I know I'm missing something. And I have to find out what it is."
Skye was quiet.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"Then I'm helping you."
Chase blinked. "Skye—"
"No arguments." She leaned in, gently pressing her forehead against his. A simple, quiet gesture. But full of meaning.
"We're partners," she murmured. "In everything."
Chase swallowed hard.
Skye sighed. "I know we haven't said these words to each other yet, and I think it's stupid for it to be such a big deal, but you know I love you, Chase."
As if that was the last straw that broke the dam, a single tear fell down Chase's face. "I love you too, Skye. But…"
"Let me be here for you," Skye pleaded.
Slowly, his tail gave a small, grateful wag. "Okay."
Skye smiled softly. "Okay."
And for the first time in two weeks, Chase didn't feel like he was carrying this alone.
The next morning was a happy occasion: Marshall was taking a rare day off to head out to Adventure City to spend a day with Smoke, who "may or may not be Marshall's girlfriend," according to Zuma (a claim that was quickly refuted by Marshall).
After enduring the usual lighthearted teasing from Zuma and Chase over the whole situation, Marshall jumped into his firetruck and drove off, the others waving as he disappeared down the road, excited but apprehensive about what the day would bring.
Adventure City was a world apart from Adventure Bay—louder, faster, and more chaotic in every possible way. The towering skyline cast long shadows across the busy streets, sirens wailing in the distance as traffic roared by. It was overwhelming, but Marshall had always liked Adventure City. It had an energy that made everything feel big and important, like something exciting was always about to happen.
And today, something exciting was about to happen—his first full day hanging out with Smoke.
Marshall padded up to Adventure City Fire Station 5, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Before he could knock, the bay doors rumbled open, and Smoke sauntered out with her signature confident smirk.
"Well, well, well," she drawled, tilting her head. "If it isn't the hottest firedog I know."
Marshall blinked. His brain short-circuited for a second. "Oh, uh—thanks? I mean, you're a firedog too, so technically, we're both—"
Smoke chuckled, cutting him off with a flick of her tail. "Relax, Red. I'm just messing with you."
Marshall exhaled, realizing she wasn't expecting him to fire back with the same level of confidence. Smoke was just… like that. Playful. Teasing. It was her way of having fun, and now that he thought about it, it wasn't all that different from the way Chase or Zuma ribbed him.
"So," Smoke continued, gesturing toward the firehouse, "welcome to the best fire station in Adventure City. Lemme show you around."
Marshall's tail wagged. "I'd love that!"
As they stepped inside, Marshall was immediately hit with the smell of smoke, rubber, and faint traces of sweat. The station was buzzing with activity—firefighters checking equipment, chatting over coffee, and preparing for the next emergency. The sleek red fire trucks gleamed under the overhead lights, each one meticulously maintained and ready to roll at a moment's notice.
"Station 5 is one of the busiest in the city," Smoke explained as they walked. "We cover everything from high-rise fires to subway rescues. No such thing as a slow day around here."
She led him past the dormitories, where firefighters rested between shifts, and the kitchen, which smelled strongly of coffee and something slightly burnt. Finally, they reached the outdoor training grounds, where a few firefighters were running drills, supervised by Blaze.
"Yo, Seraph!" Smoke called.
A familiar golden retriever turned from the obstacle course and trotted over, his bright blue eyes lighting up. "Marshall! Good to see ya, man!"
Marshall wagged his tail. "You too, Seraph! How've you been? I thought you were in Foggy Bottom."
"Well, your friend Chase really shook things up over there, exposing corruption and all. My fire station got shut down—chief was laundering for organized crime—so I got transferred here."
Blaze then shot Marshall a good-natured grin before nudging Smoke. "He keeping up with you so far?"
Smoke smirked. "Oh yeah, he's really nailing the whole 'walking in a straight line' thing so far."
Marshall let out an awkward laugh, but Blaze just chuckled. "Don't worry, she messes with everyone."
As they made their way over to the main training area, a few human firefighters took notice. One of them, a burly guy with a thick beard, raised an eyebrow. "So, this is the famous PAW Patrol firedog?"
Another firefighter, a woman adjusting her helmet, smirked. "He doesn't look like much. Thought he'd be bigger."
Marshall's ears flattened slightly, but before he could respond, Smoke stepped in.
"Don't let the small-town charm fool you—Red here's got skills," she said, giving Marshall a sideways glance. "And you're about to see 'em firsthand."
Marshall straightened up at the unexpected defense. "That's right! I, uh… I train a lot!"
The firefighters chuckled, and one of them clapped him on the back. "Alright then, let's see what you got."
The training session started off strong. Marshall and Smoke raced up ladders, with Smoke barely beating him to the top. They practiced dousing mock fires, Marshall's water cannons hitting every target with pinpoint accuracy. Then came the real challenge: a simulated high-rise rescue, where they had to retrieve a dummy from a second-story balcony.
Smoke took the lead, leaping onto a narrow ledge and using her balance to reach the dummy. She grabbed it by the sleeve and carefully pulled it onto her back before making her way down. The firefighters clapped at her flawless execution.
Marshall, eager to match her performance, took a running leap—
—and immediately knocked over a hose reel.
Water exploded from the hose, drenching one of the firefighters standing nearby.
For a split second, there was absolute silence. Then Smoke snickered. "Oh yeah, definitely the best firedog I've ever seen."
Marshall groaned, covering his face with his paws. "I, uh… meant to do that. He was on fire."
The tension broke, and the group erupted into laughter. Even Marshall couldn't help but chuckle at himself.
Smoke nudged him. "Not bad, Red. You might actually survive a day in Adventure City."
Marshall smiled, shaking off his embarrassment. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Smoke smirked. "You should."
With the ice officially broken, Marshall felt himself relax. This was going to be a good day.
Marshall followed Smoke through the bustling streets of Adventure City, his eyes wide as he took in the sights and sounds of the metropolis. Car horns blared, people wove through the sidewalks at a hurried pace, and the towering skyscrapers stretched into the afternoon sky like sentinels of steel and glass.
"Man, it's always this busy?" he asked, trotting beside her as they navigated the maze of pedestrians.
Smoke smirked. "Always. You get used to it." She led him to a small food truck parked near a crowded plaza, where the aroma of sizzling meat and warm buns filled the air. "Best hot dogs in the city. You good with that, Red?"
Marshall chuckled. "A hot dog eating a hot dog. That's irony."
Smoke snorted. "You sure you're a firefighter? 'Cause that's some detective-level observation right there."
Marshall wagged his tail, feeling himself relax a bit more. Even with her sharp tongue and teasing demeanor, Smoke had an easy presence—confident, but never overbearing.
After ordering, they took their hot dogs to a small park across the street, finding a spot on a low stone wall. The warm spring breeze carried the scents of the city—grilled food, exhaust fumes, and the faintest trace of fresh bread from a bakery nearby.
Marshall took a bite, then turned to Smoke. "So, what's big city firefighting like? You must have some crazy stories."
Smoke chewed thoughtfully before answering. "It's not like Adventure Bay, I'll tell you that. We get a lot of structural fires, car accidents, high-rise rescues… stuff where seconds mean everything."
Marshall listened intently as she recounted a few of her more intense calls—an apartment fire where she had to help a trapped family escape, a warehouse blaze that nearly got out of control before the team managed to contain it, a rescue where she had to pull a man out of a flipped car just before it caught fire.
As she spoke, her usual playful edge softened slightly. "It's a different world out here," she admitted, idly tearing off a piece of her bun. "You don't always get the happy endings you do in Adventure Bay."
Marshall felt a pang in his chest. He had never really thought about that before. Adventure Bay had its emergencies, sure, but they always ended with a successful rescue, a happy reunion, a town grateful for their help. But here… here, the stakes were higher.
Smoke gave him a sideways glance, noting his thoughtful expression. "Didn't mean to kill the mood," she said lightly, taking another bite. "Just… this job, it takes a piece of you sometimes."
Marshall swallowed, then spoke carefully. "I get it. You do your best, but you can't control everything."
Smoke studied him for a moment before nodding. "Exactly." She finished her food, then stood up and stretched. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."
Marshall followed her through the streets again, this time weaving through alleys and stairwells until they reached a towering office building. Smoke led him inside, flashed a badge at security, and took him up an elevator.
When the doors opened, Marshall blinked in surprise. They were on the rooftop, high above the streets, with a panoramic view of Adventure City. The skyline stretched in all directions, a shimmering sea of lights and movement.
Smoke padded over to the edge, sitting down and letting the wind ruffle her fur. "I like it up here," she said, her voice softer than usual.
Marshall sat beside her, taking in the view. "Yeah… it's pretty amazing."
Smoke exhaled slowly. "The city's loud, messy… but up here? It's quiet. Gives me time to think."
Marshall stole a glance at her, realizing that beneath her bravado and teasing, there was something deeper. Smoke wasn't just a thrill-seeker or a show-off—she was someone who carried the weight of responsibility, someone who needed space to breathe.
For a while, they just sat there, letting the city hum beneath them, sharing a rare moment of peace.
The late afternoon sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church, casting colored patterns across the pews.
Joseph, clad in his usual button-down and slacks, rubbed his temples as he stood near the choir loft. His latest challenge sat on the organ bench, posture stiff, fingers anxiously hovering over the keys.
Brandon, the young and eager organist, was barely out of high school—full of enthusiasm but severely lacking in experience. Joseph had been assigned to train him to cover for the upcoming Pentecost Vigil, as Joseph would be away for a wedding on that day.
Brandon had passion. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that his ambition was far bigger than his current skill level.
The organ let out a cacophonous crash as Brandon attempted J.S. Bach's Prelude and Fugue in D Major—the right notes in the wrong timing, the rhythm crumbling into chaos. And he hadn't even made it to the pedal solo at the end of the Fugue.
Joseph winced.
Brandon sighed, his hands hovering over the keys, frustration clear on his face. "I—I just don't get it," he muttered. "I've seen professionals play this flawlessly. I know what it's supposed to sound like, but my hands just—just don't do it."
Joseph crossed his arms. "Brandon, let's take a step back. This piece is extremely advanced. It's not something you can just get through on willpower."
Brandon exhaled sharply. "I know that! But I want to push myself! I don't want to just play easy pieces—I want to play something big, something that means something."
Joseph sighed. "I respect the ambition, but pushing too hard can backfire. Your technique isn't ready for this, and in music, forcing something beyond your ability leads to frustration—not progress."
Brandon's jaw tightened. "So, what? You want me to just play Chorale Preludes for Beginners?" His voice carried a sharp edge of disappointment.
Joseph held back an exasperated sigh. He wanted to be patient—he needed to be patient—but Brandon's stubbornness was making it difficult. The Pentecost Vigil was only two weeks away, and at this rate, it wasn't looking good.
"We'll figure something out," Joseph said, forcing his voice to stay level. "Take a break for today."
Brandon stood quickly, shoving the bench back with more force than necessary. "Fine," he muttered, storming off toward the stairs.
Joseph let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He needed another perspective—someone who wasn't already inside the problem.
Fortunately, he knew just the right 'person.'
Joseph made it home and found Raine sitting on her usual spot on his couch. She wagged her tail as he sat beside her and she crawled into his lap.
"What's bugging you?" Raine asked quickly. "You have that look."
Joseph chuckled. "That obvious?"
"You always say, 'Rainey, I'm home!,' but not today… and you get quiet when you're trying not to be frustrated."
Joseph exhaled, leaning back slightly. "I've got a young organist trying to play music way beyond his ability. He's got the passion, but he's so focused on proving himself that he's not listening to reality."
Raine flicked an ear. "Sounds like someone I know."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Raine gave a small smirk. "You ever met a dog with a green ballcap who likes to fix things?"
Joseph laughed. "Rocky?"
Raine nodded. "He pushes hard when he believes something is right. And sometimes, that means he doesn't realize when he's making things worse."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence before Joseph asked, "How are things between you two?"
Raine shrugged. "I told him I had no hard feelings, but I know he still feels guilty. What he said kind of sucked… but he didn't mean it. I just need to talk to him in private soon so we can clear this up."
Joseph nodded, considering that. "Maybe you're right. Sounds like we're both dealing with someone who needs to lay down their pride…"
Raine raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"
Joseph stood, stretching. "Brandon needs to stop trying to prove himself and just play what he's good at. I need to get him to choose pieces that he can actually do well—not ones that will leave him floundering."
Raine smirked. "See? I told you you'd make a good teacher."
Joseph smiled. "Thanks, Rainey."
She flicked her tail, stretching to nuzzle Joseph. "No problem. Now, scratch me behind my ears."
The ride back from the rooftop was peaceful. Smoke and Marshall walked side by side, weaving through the city streets at a more relaxed pace. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting Adventure City in warm golden hues.
"Not bad for a countryside firedog, huh?" Marshall joked, his tail wagging slightly.
Smoke smirked. "You're holding up alright. Still got a whole evening left, though. Don't crash on me yet, Red."
Marshall chuckled, shaking his head—but before he could respond, a sharp, rapid series of tones blared from Smoke's radio collar.
Emergency call.
Smoke's demeanor shifted in an instant. "Hang on." She pressed a button on her collar, tuning in.
A gruff voice crackled through: "Station 5, we've got a working fire at 824 Lexington. Third floor apartment, possible entrapment. Units responding, be advised—multiple 911 calls confirming heavy smoke conditions."
Smoke's ears twitched. "Copy that, responding now." She turned to Marshall, her usual teasing smirk gone. "Hope you're not too full from those hot dogs, Red—because you're about to earn your stripes."
Marshall's heart pounded—not from nerves, but from adrenaline. "I'm with you!"
Smoke took off in a sprint, and Marshall kept pace beside her. Within minutes, they arrived at the scene, where the street was already flashing red and blue from the emergency lights of fire trucks and police cruisers. Thick black smoke billowed from the third floor of a tightly packed apartment building, curling up into the sky like ink spilling into water. The heat was palpable, even from street level.
The firefighters from Smoke's unit were already suiting up, coordinating their attack. A hose team was stretching a line to the front entrance, while another group was gearing up to make entry.
Marshall took it all in, analyzing the situation as he had been trained. A bystander, a frantic woman, was pleading with one of the firefighters.
"My son—he's still up there! Apartment 307!"
Smoke turned to Marshall. "You with me?"
Marshall nodded without hesitation. "Absolutely."
Without another word, the two of them charged toward the building.
The stairwell was thick with smoke, but their training kicked in immediately. Marshall activated the built-in mask from his firedog helmet, filtering out the worst of the toxins. He kept low, Smoke moving right beside him, guiding their way through the dim haze of emergency lighting.
They reached the third floor, where flames licked at the far end of the hallway. Smoke wasted no time—she pulled out a compact fire extinguisher and knocked back the worst of the flames blocking their path.
Marshall spotted 307. He pressed a paw against the door—hot, but not dangerously so. "Anyone inside?" he called.
A faint, muffled cough answered from within.
Smoke motioned for him to step back before she raised her voice. "We're coming in! Stay low and cover your mouth if you can!"
Marshall counted down with her. "Three… two… one—"
Smoke kicked the door open, and Marshall rushed in.
A young boy, no older than six, was curled up near a window, trying to breathe through his hoodie sleeve. His face was streaked with soot, his wide eyes filled with terror.
Marshall was at his side in an instant. "Hey, buddy. We're here. We're gonna get you out, okay?"
The boy coughed but nodded.
Marshall carefully lifted him onto his back. "Hold on tight."
Smoke scanned the room quickly before calling into her radio. "We've got the kid. Exiting now."
The hallway flames had grown since they entered. The fire was moving fast.
Smoke turned to Marshall. "We go now."
Marshall nodded. "Right behind you."
They ran.
The smoke was thicker now, nearly blinding, but they stayed low and moved fast. The moment they hit the stairwell, fresh air rushed toward them as the hose team had finally begun venting the building. The fire was being beaten back, but it still wasn't safe.
Marshall kept his focus on the boy. "Almost there, buddy! Just hold on!"
Within seconds, they burst through the front entrance and into the cool evening air. The boy's mother let out a sob of relief as Marshall gently placed him into her waiting arms.
Firefighters worked behind them to knock down the remaining flames, but Marshall barely registered it. He turned to Smoke, panting, his fur singed but otherwise unharmed.
Smoke studied him for a moment, her sharp amber eyes filled with something he hadn't seen before—not amusement, not teasing. Respect.
She nodded. "Okay. I take back every joke. You're the real deal, Marshall."
For the first time since he'd arrived in Adventure City, Marshall didn't feel like just a visitor, a guest, or a novelty.
He felt like an equal.
The evening air in Adventure City was cooler now, the energy of the city humming at a lower frequency as the day wound down. The chaos of the fire had been handled, the apartment building stabilized, and the rescued boy was safe with his family.
Marshall stood by his firetruck, running a paw through his slightly singed fur, still catching his breath from everything that had happened. Smoke leaned against the side of the station, watching him with that ever-present smirk of hers. The streetlights above cast a soft, golden glow, reflecting off the sleek black of her fur.
"Well," Marshall exhaled, shaking off the last of his nerves. "That was... intense."
Smoke chuckled. "Yeah, you held your own, though. Not bad, country boy."
Marshall smiled, feeling the weight of the day settle into his muscles. He had handled every challenge Adventure City had thrown at him. More than that—he had enjoyed it. Being here, working alongside Smoke, proving himself in the fast-paced city… it had been incredible.
"Well, I should probably hit the road," he said, stretching. "Ryder's probably wondering when I'll be back."
Smoke pushed off the station wall and padded closer, her movements slow and deliberate.
Something in her gaze shifted. It was subtle, but Marshall noticed it instantly.
She wasn't smirking now.
She was looking at him.
Like, really looking at him.
Marshall swallowed, suddenly feeling rooted to the spot. His heartbeat, steady from years of firefighting, seemed to skip a beat.
Smoke stepped right up to him—closer than she had been all day, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of her fur.
"Hey, Red," she murmured, her voice softer now. Lower.
Marshall blinked rapidly. "Uh—yeah?"
Smoke tilted her head slightly. "Today was fun."
Marshall opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she leaned in.
Slowly, deliberately, she dragged her tongue across his cheek.
The world stopped.
Marshall froze.
His ears turned bright red.
His brain shut down entirely.
Smoke stepped back, chuckling at his completely dumbfounded expression. "See you around, hotshot."
Marshall just stood there.
Did that… Did that just happen?!
His fur tingled where she had licked him. His paws were suddenly way too stiff to move. His ears burned hotter than a five-alarm fire.
"Uh—" His voice cracked. "Yeah! Right! See you! Uh—bye!"
He scrambled into his firetruck, started it, and nearly stalled before peeling away from the curb at what was probably an unsafe speed.
Smoke watched him go, shaking her head with amusement.
Marshall drove in complete silence for the first five minutes. His brain was still buffering. His tail twitched involuntarily. His paws gripped the wheel a little too tight.
What had just happened?
It wasn't like he hadn't been flirted with before. Smoke had been messing with him all day, and he had handled it just fine. But this? That?
That was a whole other level.
As Adventure Bay's familiar skyline came into view, he let out a long breath and finally allowed himself to process everything.
The truth was… he had an amazing time.
Smoke was fun. She was tough. She challenged him in a way he hadn't expected. And for the first time in a long time, he had felt like he was standing on equal ground with someone—not just as a firedog, but as Marshall.
But that last moment? That was… a lot.
Too fast. Too much.
He liked Smoke, but was he ready for something like this? He had never really thought about romance, not seriously. And yet, here he was, completely thrown off his game because of one lick on the cheek.
He sighed, approaching the Lookout.
He had no idea what to make of any of this.
But one thing was for sure.
Things just got a whole lot more complicated.
The next afternoon, as Marshall continued to ponder his own crisis, Joseph found Brandon back at the church's organ, staring at the keys like they had personally offended him.
Joseph leaned against the console. "Alright. Let's try something different."
Brandon sighed. "If you're about to tell me to dumb it down—"
"Not dumb it down. Play smart."
Brandon frowned. "What's the difference?"
Joseph set a new piece of music in front of him—Cesar Franck's Prelude, Fugue, and Variation. Not easy, but manageable. Something that required control rather than force.
"Play this."
Brandon hesitated, then positioned his hands on the keys.
The first notes rang out—soft, controlled, clear. Not perfect, but strong.
Joseph nodded. "See? When you play something within your reach, you sound good. This isn't about impressing people with complexity—it's about making something sound beautiful."
Brandon played through the first few measures, then exhaled, a small, almost sheepish smile creeping onto his face. "Okay… okay, yeah. This actually feels right."
Joseph clapped him on the back. "Good. Because that's what you're playing at the Pentecost Vigil in two weeks. Get to practicing!"
Brandon didn't argue this time, instead looking at his lap. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I know I'm not ready for the Bach, but I was hoping I could impress these folks my first time playing here."
Joseph sat beside Brandon on the bench. "Listen, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. If you decide to pursue a career in sacred music, you will always battle the sin of pride. Any time you find yourself making decisions on the grounds of what will impress people the most, you just have to stop, realize you're treading on unholy ground, and reassess, asking how you can best serve the parish—and Our Lord."
Branded visibly perked up. "You're right, Joseph. So… will you go through this Franck with me? I heard you play it last fall and it was beautiful; I'd love your input."
Joseph smiled. "I'd be glad to."
Later that evening, Raine finally made her way to the Lookout.
Rocky was in the workshop, tinkering absentmindedly with a small motor, clearly lost in thought.
When he noticed Raine in the doorway, he stiffened slightly. "Oh. Hey."
Raine tilted her head. "Hey."
There was a brief silence before she sighed. "Look, Rocky… I don't want things to be weird between us."
Rocky rubbed the back of his neck. "I know. I just—what I said before—"
"You didn't mean it," Raine finished for him. "I know that. And I don't blame you for it."
Rocky looked at her carefully. "You sure?"
Raine gave a small smile. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
A moment of heavy silence passed between them.
"Look," Raine said, gentle but firm, "I think we should just try to start over. You seem like an interesting guy, I'd love for all of us to be friends. But for that to happen, you're gonna have to get over yourself and put the guilt aside."
There was a beat of silence as Rocky considered Raine's words, then he smirked. "So, you gonna help me fix this thing, or just stand there looking dramatic?"
Raine chuckled. "Pass me a wrench."
Chapter 16: Zuma's Treasure Hunt
Chapter Text
The bay was calm on a warm June morning, the water a perfect sheet of blue stretching beneath a clear sky. The only ripples came from the boat drifting lazily along the waves as Captain Turbot and Zuma worked together, pulling up debris from the ocean floor.
Zuma surfaced with a splash, his scuba mask pushed up onto his forehead as he dragged a net full of trash onto the boat's deck. He panted slightly, shaking off the water from his deep brown fur before eyeing the mess he'd just hauled up.
"Dude," he muttered, flicking an old plastic bottle off his paw. "Tourists gotta learn to clean up after themselves."
"Couldn't agree more, my aquatic amigo," Captain Turbot chimed in as he helped sort through the garbage. "The bay's a beauty, but she's only as pristine as we keep her!"
Zuma started shaking out a tangled piece of seaweed when something clunked against the wooden deck. A glass bottle—its surface weathered by the ocean, yet still intact. Zuma's eyes widened as he reached for it, rolling it in his paws.
"Whoa… this one's got somethin' inside," he murmured, tilting it to the light. The bottle's neck had been firmly corked, and a rolled-up piece of paper was visible inside.
Captain Turbot leaned in, adjusting his glasses. "Well, well, well, what have we here? An old maritime missive? A bottled-up beacon from bygone buccaneers?"
Zuma snickered. "If I'm translating correctly, it sounds like you're hoping it's a pirate treasure map."
Turbot chuckled. "A hope-harboring hypothesis, perhaps! But let's get it open and find out." He grabbed the bottle and tried to pry the cork out with his fingers. It didn't budge. He tried twisting it. Still no luck. After another failed attempt, he sighed. "Well, shucks. I don't have a corkscrew handy."
Zuma tilted his head. "Rocky might be able to open it."
Captain Turbot brightened. "Now that's a rational resourceful remark! Let's ferry this find to the fix-it fella."
Zuma barked in agreement, securing the bottle carefully. They finished up the cleanup—gathering the last bits of debris before making their way back to dry land.
Ryder was overseeing as Rocky attached a hydraulic claw attachment to Rubble's digger. Rubble sat nearby, tail wagging in anticipation.
"This is gonna be so awesome," Rubble grinned. "I'll be able to lift whole boulders now!"
"Assuming it doesn't snap under pressure," Rocky muttered, tightening a bolt.
Rubble gave him a look. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."
Before Rocky could retort, Zuma ran up, panting slightly. "Dude, Rocky! Just the dog I was hopin' to see."
Rocky looked up from his work. "What's up?"
Captain Turbot jogged up behind Zuma, reaching into his trusty fanny pack and pulling out the bottle. "We were out on the bay, engaging in eco-friendly endeavors, when we fished up this fascinating find!"
Rubble's eyes widened. "Whoa! A message in a bottle! Just like in the movies!"
Rocky perked up, padding closer as Zuma set the bottle down in front of him. "Can you get it open?"
Rocky studied the bottle. "Shouldn't be too hard. Bring it over to my lair."
The group moved to the workshop, where Rocky wasted no time pulling together a makeshift corkscrew. Using an old drill bit, an adjustable clamp, and a few rubber bands, he assembled something functional, securing the clamp around the cork before giving it a firm twist.
With a satisfying pop, the cork came loose.
Rocky grinned. "Cap'n, do the honors?"
Captain Turbot gingerly pulled out the rolled-up paper, carefully unfurling it. The others leaned in, ears perked, tails twitching in anticipation.
Then, there it was.
A map.
A hand-drawn depiction of Adventure Bay, with several locations circled in faded ink connected by a curving line that made a path through the circles until ending with an X.
Zuma's jaw dropped. "Dude…"
Rocky's ears perked. "Is that—?"
"A treasure map," Zuma finished, eyes wide with excitement.
Captain Turbot nearly fainted, but Ryder steadied him, shaking his head at the odd man's antics.
Rubble grinned. "Oh, we gotta get everyone in on this."
The PAW Patrol gathered in the workshop, a rare meeting spot compared to their usual briefings at the top of the Lookout. The shift in location had sparked curiosity among the team, and the moment everyone arrived, they quickly realized why.
Spread across the table was the weathered map, its ink faded but still legible. The aged parchment had a few crinkles and stains, but what stood out the most were the circles—marking various locations across Adventure Bay along a path that ended in a promising X.
Zuma beamed. "Dudes, check it out. A real treasure map!"
The team's reactions were instant.
Skye gasped. "Oh, we have to follow it!"
Rubble grinned. "For sure—this is gonna be legendary!"
Chase, however, wasn't as immediately sold on the excitement. His sharp eyes scanned the old map, his ears flicking as he examined the markings. "Are we sure this is actually a treasure map?"
Zuma nodded enthusiastically. "Dude, look at it! Mysterious markings, old paper, circles—that's classic treasure hunt stuff."
Before Chase could reply, a new voice piped up from behind them.
"Treasure?"
The team turned to see Raine standing in the doorway, her gray and blue-speckled fur catching the sunlight as she padded into the workshop.
Rocky looked up, slightly surprised. "Hey, Raine. Didn't expect to see you today."
Raine smirked. "Yeah, well… Joseph's been busy, and I felt like stretching my legs." She flicked her tail, stepping closer to the table. "So… what's this about treasure?"
Zuma wasted no time launching into the story. "Dude, I was helping Cap'n Turbot clean up the bay, and we found a message in a bottle. And it had this inside." He tapped the map with his paw.
Raine peered at it, raising an eyebrow. "Huh. And you think there's actual treasure?"
Rubble nodded enthusiastically. "Gotta be! This is like, textbook treasure-hunting stuff!"
Chase, still skeptical, crossed his paws. "Or it could just be an old map someone made for fun."
Skye nudged him. "Come on, Chase, where's your sense of adventure?"
Chase gave her a look. "It usually kicks in when there's something real to chase."
Before the playful banter could go any further, Ryder stepped forward, addressing the group.
"Alright, everyone, slow down." His voice was even, but he wasn't here to crush anyone's fun—just to keep things in check. "I know this is exciting, but I need to remind you: our first priority is safety. If we're going to check this out, we stick together and we don't take any unnecessary risks. Understood?"
The team responded in unison. "Yes, Ryder!"
Ryder nodded. "Good. Now… who's going?"
Zuma grinned. "Me, obviously!"
Skye wagged her tail. "I'm in!"
Rocky smirked. "Well, I have to see how this turns out, so count me in."
Rubble nodded. "Wouldn't miss it."
"You in, Raine?" Zuma asked, to which the cattle dug shrugged and replied, "What the heck, should be fun."
Then, all eyes turned to Marshall.
The spotted firedog had been quiet throughout the whole conversation—too quiet. Normally, he'd be just as eager as the rest of them, but now? His expression was off, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
"…I think I'm gonna hang back," Marshall said suddenly. "I—I'm not feeling too good."
He fake coughed into his paw. It was not convincing.
For a second, nobody called him out on it. But Chase's sharp gaze lingered on his friend, noticing how Marshall wasn't acting like himself.
Zuma blinked. "Whoa, really? You never say no to adventure, dude."
Rocky raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you good?"
Marshall forced a chuckle, waving a paw dismissively. "Y-yeah! Just, you know, just having an off day is all."
Nobody quite believed him, but nobody pressed it either. Marshall had been acting weird for a couple of weeks, but he would talk when he was ready.
Chase, however, made a decision on the spot.
He straightened, looking at the others. "Actually… I think I'll sit this one out too."
Zuma turned. "What?! No way, dude, you love tracking stuff down!"
Chase shrugged casually. "Yeah, but I need to check in with Sergeant Alvarez over in Foggy Bottom. Keep the network alive, ya know?"
It was a good excuse—one that made sense. But Skye shot him a knowing glance, like she had already figured out what he was really doing.
Chase wasn't staying behind for himself; he was staying behind for Marshall.
Zuma exhaled, looking at the group. "Alright, guess that's everyone then. First stop—the beach!"
Skye smirked. "Let's go find some treasure!"
As the group headed out, Chase watched Marshall linger by the garage, still looking distracted.
Yep. Chase was definitely staying behind.
The team arrived at the first location—a partially buried shipwreck on the southern shore of Adventure Bay. The old wooden hull was wedged into the sand, its weathered beams jutting out like the ribs of some ancient beast.
Rubble let out a low whistle. "Dude… this thing must've crashed here a long time ago."
Rocky ran a paw along the barnacle-covered planks. "Yeah, and judging by the structure, it was definitely a sailing vessel—not some modern ship."
Zuma practically vibrated with excitement. "Okay, okay, let's find the treasure!"
Raine flicked an ear. "You sure it's safe to go poking around?"
Rubble knocked on one of the beams and listened carefully. "It's solid enough. But just to be sure…" He deployed a stabilizing brace from his digger, reinforcing one of the weaker sections. "Okay, now we won't bring the whole thing down on our heads."
Skye grinned. "Nice thinking, Rubble!"
Zuma darted ahead, squeezing through a gap in the hull. Ryder followed closely, keeping an eye on him. "Careful, guys. If you see anything unstable, don't push it."
Inside the wreck, shafts of golden sunlight pierced through the cracks in the planks, illuminating the dim, sand-covered interior. The scent of salt and old wood filled the air.
Skye's sharp eyes caught something glinting near a broken beam. "Hey! What's that?"
Zuma scrambled over and began digging. His paws hit something hard—he carefully pulled it free.
It was an old-fashioned key, large and ornate, its metal corroded with age but still sturdy. The bow of the key had intricate engravings, worn down by time.
Zuma's eyes widened. "Dude… this has to mean something!"
Rocky took it and turned it over in his paws. "It's too fancy for just any old lock. Looks important."
Rubble grinned. "Maybe it unlocks the treasure chest!"
Zuma's tail wagged furiously. "Then let's go find it!"
The next mark on the map led them to a secluded coastal cave, hidden along the rocky cliffs. The crash of waves echoed inside, sending a cool mist drifting through the air.
Raine squinted into the shadows. "I don't like caves."
Rocky smirked. "You don't like a lot of things."
She shot him a flat look but couldn't contain a chuckle.
The team stepped carefully into the gloom, their pawsteps muffled by the damp ground. Ryder turned on his flashlight, scanning the rock walls.
Zuma, ever the explorer, bounded ahead. "Whoa, check this out!"
Near the back of the cave, wedged between two stalagmites, was a small wooden box.
Rubble tilted his head. "Think there's gold inside?"
Zuma gingerly lifted the lid.
Inside, delicate, dried rose petals lay preserved, their faded pink and red hues whispering of something long forgotten.
Skye furrowed her brow. "Flowers?"
Rocky rubbed his chin. "Someone must've hidden them on purpose. But why?"
Zuma twirled one of the petals in his paw. "Maybe… maybe it was a gift?"
Ryder nodded. "Could be. Maybe someone was waiting for someone… and they never came."
The thought made Raine unexpectedly quiet. She stared at the petals for a moment, then turned away.
Rocky noticed. "Hey, you okay?"
Raine's voice was steady, but a little distant. "Yeah. Let's just keep going."
Something in her expression told him she wasn't being entirely honest, but he let it go.
The ruins of the old Adventure Bay lighthouse stood like a forgotten sentinel, its crumbling foundation half-consumed by creeping vines. The tower itself had collapsed long ago, leaving only a broken base of weathered bricks, with debris scattered among the tall grass. A few rusty beams still jutted out from where the lighthouse's lantern room had once been, now claimed by time and the salty sea air.
Skye hovered overhead with her jetpack, surveying the remains from above. "Looks like the whole top is gone… There's barely anything left here."
Ryder crouched by a fallen section of the lighthouse's wall, examining the worn bricks. "This place was abandoned decades ago. The light would have been crucial for sailors… if the family we're tracking was shipwrecked, they would've needed it."
Zuma sniffed at the ground near an overturned pile of stone, his tail wagging slightly. "Dudes, I think something's buried under here!"
Rubble, always eager for a digging job, stepped forward. "Stand back! Rubble on the double!" He activated the mechanical arm from his pack, carefully removing the loose bricks without causing a collapse.
After a few minutes of delicate excavation, a fragile, rolled-up piece of parchment came into view, half-hidden beneath a broken beam. Ryder carefully lifted it out, the paper so brittle that it looked like it would crumble at the slightest mishandling.
Raine stepped closer, peering over Ryder's shoulder. "What is it?" she murmured.
Rocky frowned as Ryder unfurled it slowly. The document was a celestial chart, detailing star formations and navigational routes. Despite the faded ink and water damage, the constellations were still faintly visible.
Zuma tilted his head. "Dude… that's not what I was expecting."
Skye ran a paw over the ornate compass markings in the corners of the parchment. "They weren't looking for treasure… they were navigating."
Rubble nodded, considering. "Maybe they were trying to get back home."
Rocky traced a paw along the carefully drawn stars. "Or maybe they were trying to find a new one."
The idea settled over the group like an invisible weight. The people they were tracking hadn't just been explorers—they had been travelers in distress, looking for a way forward.
Ryder glanced at the sky above them, where the afternoon sun burned bright. "They must've used the stars to guide them at sea. If they were shipwrecked here, they might've been trying to figure out where they ended up… or how to leave."
Raine's ears flicked. "And yet… they didn't."
Everyone paused at that thought.
Zuma gently rolled the parchment back up, as carefully as possible. "Dude… whatever happened to them, they were really trying to get somewhere."
Skye exhaled softly. "But we still don't know who they were."
Ryder nodded. "Two more stops—maybe we'll find out soon."
And with that, they pressed on.
The fourth location took them to an old fishing shack sitting precariously on the edge of the rocky shoreline. The structure looked like it had once been a home, but time and nature had reclaimed it.
The wood was splintered and warped, the roof partially collapsed, and an old fishing net still clung to a rusted metal hook beside the doorway. Waves lapped gently against the rocks below, the sound of the tide filling the air.
Ryder surveyed the building carefully. "It's falling apart, so be careful."
Zuma trotted ahead, nosing at the entrance. "Man, this place has seen better days."
Rubble nudged a pile of old planks with his paw. "Think anyone's been here recently?"
Rocky shook his head. "Doubt it. Everything that isn't wet is covered in dust."
Inside, the shack was dark and quiet, filled with the faint scent of salt and damp wood.
Skye ran a paw over an old wooden table, now covered in a fine layer of dust. "It feels… weird in here."
Zuma nosed around near a half-rotted storage chest, pawing at some old fishing gear tangled in seaweed. "Dude, this place is kinda creepy."
Rocky was scanning the corners of the room, looking for anything unusual. "There's gotta be something here."
Then, he saw it.
Peeking out from beneath an overturned chair, something metallic caught the light.
Rocky reached down and fished it out, shaking off the dust.
It was a small, silver locket.
Skye's ears perked up. "Is there a picture inside?"
Rocky carefully pried it open.
Inside was only empty space.
No portrait. No name.
Just a hollow outline where something once belonged.
Zuma blinked. "Wait, why would someone take the picture out?"
Skye furrowed her brow. "That's… kinda sad."
Rocky studied the empty locket, something achingly familiar about it. "Maybe it was important to someone."
Raine, who had been quiet for most of the hunt, finally spoke.
"Maybe," she murmured, "they didn't want people to forget."
Everyone paused at her words.
Ryder gave her a curious look. "What do you mean?"
Raine hesitated, her expression unreadable. "Sometimes… people keep things like this as a reminder. But if someone took the picture out, maybe… they needed to leave something behind. Or maybe, it was just too painful to keep looking at."
The room was silent for a long moment.
Then Rocky carefully closed the locket, his eyes thoughtful. "Maybe we'll find out at the last stop."
Zuma, sensing the heaviness settling over the group, cleared his throat. "Dudes, we're so close! Just one more location on the map, and we'll find the treasure!"
Skye nodded. "Then let's go finish it."
Ryder smiled. "Alright, team. One last stop."
And with that, they set off for the final location marked on their map, hoping to find both untold treasure and answers to the mystery they had stumbled upon.
The Lookout was unusually quiet that afternoon, the summer sun casting warm golden hues over the cliffs. Most of the team was still out on Zuma's treasure hunt, but inside the common area, Chase found Marshall sprawled on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Chase had expected to come back and find Marshall napping, as he'd claimed he wasn't feeling well. But now, it was obvious—Marshall wasn't physically sick. Something was on his mind.
Chase walked over and plopped down beside him. "Alright, Marshall. Spill it."
Marshall blinked, turning his head toward him. "Spill what?"
Chase raised an eyebrow. "Come on. You've been acting weird since you got back from Adventure City. I didn't say anything before because I figured you'd talk when you were ready. But at this point? You might need a push."
Marshall let out a sigh and rubbed his face with his paws. "I don't know, dude. It's kinda embarrassing."
Chase smirked. "Marshall, I once face-planted into a mud puddle in front of Mayor Goodway and half the town. Whatever it is, I promise I've heard worse."
Marshall chuckled weakly but still hesitated.
Chase softened his tone. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. I just don't like seeing you like this. You're usually the happiest one in the room."
Marshall exhaled slowly, then sat up, resting his paws on his knees. "Okay… so, you know how I went to Adventure City to hang out with Smoke?"
Chase nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, we had an awesome day. We trained together, put out a fire together, saved a kid—everything was great. But then… when I was about to leave, she, uh…"
He trailed off, his ears burning red.
Chase's brow furrowed. "She what?"
Marshall swallowed, looking anywhere but at Chase. "She… licked me."
There was a pause. Chase blinked. "Uh… okay? And that's bad because…?"
Marshall groaned and slumped against the couch. "Because I completely froze! My brain just shut down! I had no idea what to do, and then I just ran away like an idiot!"
Chase couldn't help it—he snorted.
Marshall shot him a glare. "Dude."
Chase quickly coughed into his paw, trying to rein in his amusement. "Sorry, sorry. It's just—you're acting like she proposed or something."
Marshall flopped onto his back again. "It felt that big, Chase. I mean, I like Smoke, but I wasn't ready for that. And now I don't know what to do. What if she thinks I don't like her? What if I hurt her feelings? What if—"
"Marshall." Chase put a paw on his shoulder, cutting him off. "Take a breath."
Marshall obeyed, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
Chase leaned back, crossing his arms. "Alright. First question—do you like this girl?"
Marshall hesitated, then nodded. "Well… yeah!"
Chase nodded. "Then you owe it to her—and yourself—to be honest about how you feel."
Marshall frowned. "But what if I make it worse?"
Chase shook his head. "You won't. Trust me, you don't want to leave this hanging in the air. You deserve to get it off your chest, and she deserves to know that she made you uncomfortable. That way, you give her the opportunity to adapt and act in a way that's respectful of your boundaries."
Marshall sighed. "Yeah… yeah, you're right."
Chase smirked. "Spoken like a true team leader, huh?"
Marshall snorted. "Okay, now you're getting a big head about it."
Chase chuckled. "Look, I get it. This is all new territory for you. But it's not something you have to figure out alone."
Marshall's tail gave a small, appreciative wag. "Thanks, Chase. I'll… I'll call her."
Chase nodded in approval. "Good. And if you need help figuring out what to say, you know where to find me."
Marshall grinned. "Nah, I got this."
Chase smirked. "Alright, hotshot."
For the first time in days, Marshall felt lighter. He still wasn't sure how the conversation with Smoke would go, but at least now… he was ready to face it.
The rest of the team gathered at the final marked location—an ancient tree, gnarled and weathered by time, standing alone in a clearing deep within the Adventure Bay forest. Its thick, twisted roots coiled over moss-covered rocks, and its massive trunk had a hollowed-out cavity near the base, just big enough to hide something.
Zuma skidded to a stop, panting. "Dudes, this has gotta be it!"
Skye tilted her head. "It looks like… just a tree."
Rubble squinted. "A tree big enough to hide something inside."
Raine flicked her tail. "So… what are we waiting for?"
Ryder stepped forward and carefully reached into the dark hollow. His fingers brushed against something hard and solid—a wooden surface.
With a bit of effort, he pulled out an old chest, small but heavy, its wood cracked and faded with age. The iron lock securing it was rusted, but still intact.
Zuma's tail wagged furiously. "Oh, come on, it's locked?! How are we supposed to—"
His words cut off. His ears perked. His eyes widened.
And then, suddenly, his tail wagged even faster.
"Wait a minute!" he practically shouted. "DUDES! I KNOW WHAT TO DO!"
Rocky jumped. "Zuma, volume."
Zuma fumbled frantically with his collar, pulling out the ornate key they had found in the shipwreck. He held it up triumphantly.
"This is it! This has to be it!"
Ryder took the key, aligning it with the ancient lock. Everyone held their breath as he carefully inserted it and turned.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—click.
The lock gave way, the iron shackle snapping open. Ryder lifted the lid.
Inside, wrapped in faded cloth, was a weathered leather-bound journal.
The air around them shifted. This wasn't just a treasure hunt anymore.
This was someone's story.
Ryder gently unwrapped the journal, flipping through the fragile, yellowed pages. Handwritten entries filled the delicate parchment, some words faded with time, others still bold and legible.
Skye carefully nudged closer. "What does it say?"
Ryder cleared his throat and began to read.
"If you are reading this, then you have followed our path. And perhaps, in doing so, you will know that we once lived, that we once loved, and that we were here, just like you."
A hush fell over the group as the stories unfolded. The journal wasn't just notes—it was a record of a family's survival, their hopes dreams.
The more they read, the more the pieces fit together.
The key belonged to the father. It had once opened the door to their home, now lost to time. He locked away their past in this chest, not wanting his daughter to be chained to the pain of what they had lost.
The rose petals came from the mother, who had pressed them into pages. She longed for the home she would never see again, keeping the petals as a reminder of love left behind.
The star map was used for navigation, but not to find treasure. The family had been trying to chart a way back home, but the stars only led them to the unknown.
The locket had once contained a portrait—but the daughter removed it before she left Adventure Bay, taking the picture with her as she moved on.
And the journal tied it all together.
"We fled our homeland, searching for safety. The sea brought us here, and for a time, we made a life. But the tides change, and so must we. I leave these pages behind, so that when I am gone, our story does not vanish with the waves."
The final entry revealed that after her parents passed away, the daughter left Adventure Bay, carrying their memory in her heart, but not in her hands.
She had hidden these mementos so that, one day, someone might remember them.
The PAW Patrol was that someone.
Zuma, who had hoped for gold, deflated for just a second. "Dude… I was so ready for, like… a pile of doubloons or something."
Rubble frowned. "Wait, so there's… no actual treasure?"
Skye smiled softly, brushing her paw across the journal's cover. "This is the treasure."
Zuma looked at the book again—really looked at it—and realization dawned in his deep brown eyes.
"Dude…" he murmured. "This is kinda cooler than gold."
Rocky sat down beside him, staring at the delicate sketches inside—portraits of the family, drawings of the shipwreck, star charts drawn by hand. He swallowed hard.
"This is… real history," he muttered. "Not just stuff from a museum—these were real people."
Ryder nodded. "And now, they won't be forgotten."
Raine had been silent. Now, as she stared at the worn, faded words, her ears tucked back slightly.
A family who had lost everything. A daughter who had walked away from her past, but never forgotten it.
It was too close to home.
Rocky noticed her shift, his brows furrowing slightly. "Hey… Raine? You okay?"
Raine blinked, quickly masking whatever emotion had flashed across her face. "Yeah," she said, too quickly. "I'm fine."
She wasn't. But she didn't want to talk about it.
And Rocky knew better than to push.
Ryder closed the journal gently. "This belongs in the Adventure Bay Museum. It's part of our town's history."
Skye nodded. "That way, their story is preserved forever."
Zuma, still processing, finally grinned. "Dude, imagine if we'd just walked past that shipwreck and never found this. We literally uncovered lost history!"
Rubble rubbed his chin. "It still would've been cooler if there was at least one gold coin."
Rocky laughed, nudging him. "I think we did pretty good."
Raine, though still quiet, gave a small nod. "Yeah. We did."
The weight of the story settled over them not like a burden, but like a legacy—something worth carrying forward.
The daughter may have left Adventure Bay, but thanks to the PAW Patrol, her family's memory would remain.
And maybe… just maybe… Raine was starting to realize that honoring the past didn't mean being trapped by it.
As they made their way back to the Lookout, she lingered for a moment, staring at the clearing where the chest had been hidden.
Then, with a flick of her tail, she turned and followed the others home.
Marshall sat in Ryder's office, his paw hovering about the "call" button. The big screen glowed softly in the dimming afternoon light, displaying one name.
Smoke.
He hesitated, exhaling slowly. This was stupid. He was overthinking this. She was just Smoke—teasing, confident, full of life. And yet, somehow, one unexpected lick had sent his entire world into a tailspin.
Still… he had to do this.
With one last deep breath, he tapped the call button.
The ringing tone barely lasted two seconds before the screen lit up.
Smoke's face appeared, relaxed as ever, her amber eyes gleaming as she stretched lazily on what looked like her station cot. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she saw him.
"Well, well, well," she drawled. "If it isn't my favorite Adventure Bay firedog."
Marshall chuckled awkwardly. "Hey, Smoke."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You okay? You look like you're about to either say something serious or spontaneously combust."
He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh… yeah. I just… wanted to talk about, um…" He trailed off, suddenly realizing how dumb this sounded out loud.
Smoke arched an eyebrow. "Lemme guess—about what happened when you left?"
Marshall's ears burned red. "Yeah."
Smoke exhaled through her nose, sitting up. "Look, Red, if I freaked you out, I'm sorry." Her smirk softened a little. "I get a little, uh… carried away sometimes." She rubbed her neck, something almost sheepish in her expression. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll try to, you know… tone it down."
Marshall's head shot up immediately. "No! I don't want you to change anything about you."
Smoke blinked, surprised at how fast he responded.
He swallowed. "You're… awesome, just the way you are." He hesitated, trying to find the words. "It's just… this is new territory for me, and I'd like to take things slow for a while."
Smoke stared at him for a moment, then—for the first time ever—her smirk disappeared completely.
Instead, she smiled. A real, genuine smile.
"You're pretty cool too, Red," she said softly. "Thanks for being honest with me."
Marshall let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Smoke's ears twitched, and she glanced off-screen. "Ugh, hang on—station drill. Gotta go. But hey—don't be a stranger, alright?"
Marshall grinned, his tail wagging slightly. "I won't."
The call ended, and for a moment, he just sat there, staring at the blank screen.
Then, finally, he flopped onto his back, exhaling.
That… actually went well.
And maybe, just maybe… this wouldn't be as terrifying as he thought.
The Lookout's common area was buzzing with energy as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long golden rays across the floor. The treasure hunters had returned, triumphant, and now the group sat in a loose circle, eagerly recounting their adventure.
Well, Zuma was recounting it.
"And then!" Zuma's paws gestured wildly as he painted the scene with his words, his deep brown eyes wide with excitement. "We found this ancient tree, right? Like, straight outta a fairy tale. Ryder reached into the hollow, pulled out this old wooden chest, and dude—you won't believe it—it was locked."
Marshall gasped in mock surprise. "No way."
"Way," Zuma confirmed with a dramatic nod. "But then—I remembered! The key! The one we found back at the shipwreck! So I was like, 'Dudes! This has to be it!' And guess what? I was right! Ryder put the key in, turned it, and—"
He paused for effect.
"Click."
The room leaned in slightly.
"And then, boom! No gold, no diamonds—just an old journal. But not just any journal—a whole history, dudes. A family's entire story, lost for who-knows-how-long, just waiting for someone to find it."
Chase gave an approving nod. "So, no treasure, but still something valuable."
"Exactly!" Zuma grinned. "And now it's gonna be in the museum, so no one forgets them. Kinda cooler than gold, if you ask me."
Ryder smiled. "That was an amazing find, guys. I'm proud of all of you."
Rocky stretched, cracking his back. "Yeah, it was definitely one for the books. So…" He turned his gaze toward Marshall. "How did things go here today? Feeling better, Marshall?"
Marshall and Chase exchanged a glance—a brief, knowing look passing between them.
Marshall's tail gave a small wag. "Yep," he said simply. "I'm good."
Rocky raised an eyebrow but let it slide. "Good to hear."
Zuma beamed. "Awesome, dude! 'Cause next time, I totally need you there. Who knows what we'll find next? Lost pirate ships? Buried cities? Sunken treasure? Ghosts?!"
Marshall chuckled. "Well, if ghosts show up, then I'm definitely in."
The team laughed, the warm glow of the sunset spilling over them, wrapping up another day—not with gold, but with friendship, growth, and a little bit of history brought back to life.
Chapter 17: Rocky's Reinforcement
Chapter Text
The Adventure Bay Summer Fun Fair was in full swing, filling the warm July air with the lively sounds of laughter, cheerful music, and the occasional delighted scream from thrill-seekers on the rides. Colorful banners fluttered above the bustling crowd, the scent of fresh popcorn and funnel cakes mingling with the salty ocean breeze.
At the center of the excitement, a massive performance stage had been set up, spotlights shining against the bright blue sky. The crowd erupted into cheers as Skye, wearing her signature pink flight suit, took to the air, gracefully weaving through a dazzling aerial routine alongside The High-Flyers, a world-renowned acrobatics team from Adventure City.
The acrobats performed daring stunts using aerial silks and trapeze swings, while Skye soared between rings of light, expertly navigating through synchronized mid-air flips. She twirled, spun, and rolled with impeccable precision, her jetpack leaving behind elegant spirals of pink and white vapor trails.
From the front row of the crowd, the PAW Patrol watched with excitement. Marshall whistled. "Whoa, she's really going for it!"
"Yeah, dude," Zuma agreed, his tail wagging. "That corkscrew spin was sick!"
Rocky smirked. "I can't believe she didn't get dizzy after that."
Rubble stuffed another handful of popcorn into his mouth. "She makes it look easy."
While the others cheered Skye on, Chase remained focused, his blue eyes locked onto her every movement. His usual composed expression was tight with concentration, his ears slightly flattened. The mid-air corkscrew was a little too daring for his comfort. His paw twitched slightly as she dove into a sharp roll, then barely clipped the edge of a flaming hoop before twisting into a perfect landing.
The crowd erupted into applause.
Chase, however, released a quiet breath he didn't realize he was holding.
Skye touched down with a confident bounce, flipping her visor up as the announcer declared the show a success. The High-Flyers waved to the crowd, but Skye turned toward her team, scanning the familiar faces—until her gaze landed on Chase.
A teasing grin spread across her muzzle as she jogged over after the show's conclusion, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.
"You were holding your breath again," Skye smirked.
Chase immediately cleared his throat, standing up straighter. "Was not."
"Were too."
Chase huffed, turning slightly away. "Just... be careful up there."
Skye's playful expression softened just a bit. She knew he worried, but she also knew he trusted her technique enough to not get herself hurt.
But she still thought it was cute how, with everything else he had on his mind, he worried for her.
Before she could respond, Ryder stepped forward, clapping his hands together.
"That was amazing, Skye! Now that the show's over, it's time for us to enjoy the fair!"
A round of cheers went up from the team, and Skye laughed, shaking off the moment as she joined the others.
As they walked off together, Chase glanced back toward the performance stage—just for a second—before following after them.
Zuma and Marshall trotted up to a ring toss game, where rows of colorful bottles were stacked in neat pyramids. The vendor, a friendly-looking man with a bright blue vest, grinned as he spun a ring on his finger.
"Step right up!," he called out. "Think you've got the aim to win the grand prize?"
Zuma's eyes sparkled. "Dude, this is my kinda game."
Marshall wagged his tail. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
Zuma confidently grabbed three rings and tossed the first one with perfect precision, landing it neatly around the bottle's neck. He repeated the motion twice more, earning a small prize.
"Sweet!" Zuma cheered.
Marshall grinned. "Alright, my turn!"
He grabbed a ring, aimed carefully… and missed.
He frowned, tried again, and missed again.
Zuma chuckled. "Hey, don't worry, dude. Not everyone's got the skills."
Determined, Marshall picked up one last ring and swung his paw—only for it to slip mid-throw and knock over the entire rack of bottles!
The vendor's jaw dropped.
The crowd stared.
Zuma stared.
Marshall blinked. "…Uh. Does that count?"
The vendor sighed, rubbing his forehead. "You know what? Sure."
He reached behind the counter and handed Marshall a giant plush fire hydrant, almost as big as he was. Marshall's tail wagged furiously.
"Awesome!" he beamed.
Zuma just shook his head, laughing. "Dude… you totally cheated."
Marshall hugged his prize. "I totally did not."
At a nearby food stand, Rubble and Rocky sat at a picnic table, tearing into massive corn dogs and powdered funnel cakes.
Rubble took a huge bite, letting out a satisfied groan. "Bro… this is the best mission of the year."
Rocky, despite his usual concerns about junk food, had to admit it was pretty good. "Alright, I'll give you this one, Rubble."
Rubble grinned, holding up his corn dog like a trophy. "Summer Fun Fair MVP, right here."
Rocky smirked, dusting powdered sugar off his fur. "Just don't eat too fast. I am not cleaning up if you get sick."
Rubble waved him off. "Pssh, please. I've trained for this my whole life."
Rocky just shook his head, amused.
Chase and Skye wandered through the fairgrounds together, taking in the flashing lights and vibrant rides. Chase kept a wary eye on the tallest attractions, his ears flicking slightly whenever a particularly intense scream echoed from the roller coasters.
Skye caught his glance and smirked. "You're totally side-eyeing the rides."
Chase rolled his eyes. "I am not side-eyeing anything."
Skye stopped in front of the biggest coaster in the fair, the Storm Twister, which featured a huge drop, several loops, and a corkscrew finale.
She pointed at it. "Prove it."
Chase eyed the coaster, then her. "You seriously want me to ride that?"
Skye's grin widened. "What's the matter? Scared?"
Chase huffed. "No."
"Then let's go."
Chase sighed dramatically but followed her to the entrance. "You're enjoying this way too much."
Skye winked. "Oh, absolutely."
Meanwhile, Ryder had made his way to a large technology showcase booth, where a crowd had gathered to admire a sleek, futuristic vehicle. The car gleamed under the sun, its smooth curves and glass panels reflecting the light.
A renowned inventor, Dr. Felix Laurent, stood beside the car, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is the future of sustainable travel," he announced proudly. "A fully solar-powered vehicle, capable of operating on the sun's energy alone! No fuel, no emissions—just clean, renewable power."
Ryder stepped closer, fascinated. "That's incredible."
Dr. Laurent noticed him and smiled. "Ah, a young innovator! You look like someone who appreciates good engineering."
Ryder grinned. "I run a first-response team. We're always looking for new ways to improve our vehicles."
Dr. Laurent's eyes lit up. "Then you're in for a treat. I'll be giving a live demonstration later—wait until you see this baby in action."
Then, a loud metallic groan split through the air.
The towering Ferris wheel—the fair's centerpiece—jerked to a sudden stop. Passengers gasped as the ride lurched unnaturally, then went still.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a scream.
A young mother, stranded in one of the topmost gondolas, clutched her little boy as he wailed in fear.
"The ride's stuck!" a teenager called from near the top.
Another sharp creak echoed as the massive structure shuddered.
The ride operator fumbled with the controls. "Everyone stay calm! I'll get it running again!"
He twisted a lever. The wheel groaned, shifted slightly—and then came the snap.
A support beam buckled, its metal frame twisting as the entire Ferris wheel tilted several inches to the left. The movement sent fresh screams through the air.
Chase's ears snapped up. "Ryder!"
Ryder was already moving. "PAW Patrol! We've got an emergency!"
The team sprang into action, instincts taking over as they assessed the unfolding crisis.
Passengers stranded. A Ferris wheel on the brink of collapse. Seconds to act.
Ryder's voice cut through the panic. "Alright, here's the plan! Skye, you're already geared up—you'll fly up and secure the passengers with your jetpack's rescue harness. Rocky, the structure is compromised—I need you to reinforce it long enough to get those folks down."
Rocky took one look at the Ferris wheel's failing support beam and swallowed hard. He didn't have his usual gear. No tool belt. No welding kit. No mechanical arm attachment.
His green eyes darted around, mind racing. There—a maintenance station near the ride's entrance.
"I'll make it work," he said, dashing toward it.
Meanwhile, Ryder continued delegating.
"Chase, Zuma—keep the crowd back! This thing could go at any moment. Rubble, Marshall—you're on medical standby. If anyone gets hurt, be ready to move in!"
The team scattered into position.
Chase and Zuma formed a barrier, pushing back the growing crowd of fairgoers.
"Everyone stay behind the barricades!" Chase ordered, his voice commanding but steady.
Zuma echoed, "Stay clear, dudes! We got this!"
Rubble and Marshall set up a medical area nearby—just in case.
Skye launched into the sky, her jetpack roaring to life. The Ferris wheel groaned again as she reached the first gondola, where the mother and child were trapped.
The little boy clung to his mom, sobbing.
Skye hovered carefully beside them. "Hey there, kiddo. I'm Skye! I promise I'm gonna get you down safely, okay?"
She secured him in her harness, making sure he was snug.
"Hold on, Mom," she added, "I'll be right back for you."
With a powerful thrust, Skye lifted off, carrying the boy to safety.
Meanwhile, Rocky was in full problem-solving mode.
He grabbed a heavy-duty tool harness from the maintenance station, strapping it across his back. Then, he hauled over metal rods from a supply cart, selecting the sturdiest ones to use as temporary support beams.
He worked fast. Really fast.
Sweat gathered at his fur as he bolted a brace to the fractured support beam. The Ferris wheel shifted again, sending sparks from the cracking metal.
"Rocky, update?" Ryder's voice crackled over the comm.
Rocky gritted his teeth. "Not great! The whole thing's unstable—I'm doing everything I can but it's not gonna last!"
"Skye, how much longer?"
Skye landed. "Just a few more to go!"
She rocketed back up, extracting the mother next. Then, the elderly couple. Then, the teenagers. With every minute that passed, the structure groaned ominously.
Just as Skye set the last passenger safely on the ground, a sickening snap rang through the fairgrounds.
The Ferris wheel lurched violently.
Rocky had just enough time to realize what was happening.
Then, the entire structure started to tip.
Ryder's voice turned urgent. "Rocky! Get out of there—NOW!"
Rocky dropped his tools and ran.
The fairgrounds blurred around him. Metal groaned. Bolts snapped.
A beam crashed down in front of him, blocking his path.
Nowhere to go.
From above, Skye saw it all.
No hesitation.
She dove.
Wind rushed past her as she streaked downward, her jetpack pushing to its limits.
Rocky braced himself—nowhere to go—
And then—
A sudden yank at his harness.
He was lifted off the ground.
With one final burst of power, Skye pulled him clear—just as the Ferris wheel crumpled into a heap of twisted metal behind them.
The ground shook from the impact. A cloud of dust and debris billowed into the air.
Then… silence.
The dust still lingered in the air. The once-proud Ferris wheel lay in ruins, its shattered frame a stark reminder of how close disaster had come.
But then, Skye emerged from the cloud, carrying Rocky safely to the ground.
The fairgoers, who had moments ago watched in horror, now erupted into applause. A mix of cheers and grateful murmurs spread as parents held their children close, and people exchanged relieved looks.
The rescued passengers stood together, still shaken but safe. The young mother held her son tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. The elderly couple sat on a nearby bench, catching their breath, while the teenagers—having gone from terrified to exhilarated—were already talking about how "insane" that had been.
Rocky, still catching his own breath, took it all in.
They were all safe. He had helped make that happen.
A strange feeling swelled in his chest. A mixture of exhaustion and pride. Of knowing he had made a difference.
"Rocky!"
Ryder's voice brought him back to the moment. Ryder clapped a hand on his shoulder, his eyes filled with pride.
"That was incredible," Ryder said. "You kept the structure stable long enough for Skye to finish the rescue. You saved a lot of lives today."
Rocky gave a breathless chuckle. "Yeah, well… didn't exactly feel like it when I was about to be a pancake."
Skye smirked, still standing beside him. "Good thing I had your back, huh?"
Rocky grinned at her. "I owe you one."
Skye tilted her head, pretending to think about it. "Nah—we both did our jobs."
Zuma trotted up, playfully nudging Rocky's side. "Dude! You were totally in the zone back there! That was some next-level stuff!"
"Yeah," Rubble added, grinning ear to ear. "You're like, 'Rocky the Reinforcer' now."
Rocky chuckled at that. "Let's… maybe not make that my official nickname."
Marshall bounded over, looking him up and down. "No cuts, no bruises… you look okay, but just in case—" He whipped out his medical scanner, running a quick check over Rocky.
Rocky rolled his eyes but let him do it. "I'm fine, Marshall."
Marshall tapped his scanner. "Yep! Perfectly fine! But next time, try not to almost get flattened by a giant metal wheel, okay?"
Rocky smirked. "I'll do my best."
As the team shared their triumphant moment, the young mother from the Ferris wheel approached, her little boy clutching her hand.
She knelt in front of Rocky, her eyes filled with gratitude.
"I don't know how to thank you," she said softly. "They say you kept that ride together long enough for Skye to get us out. You saved my little boy."
Rocky felt his ears grow warm. "Oh, uh… I mean, it was a team effort."
The little boy stepped forward, still clutching a small stuffed puppy he had won earlier.
He looked up at Rocky with wide eyes.
"…You're a real hero."
Rocky's breath hitched slightly. He'd been called smart and resourceful before.
But this was the first time someone had looked at him like that.
Like he was a hero.
"…Thanks, kid," Rocky murmured, ruffling the boy's hair.
The boy suddenly held out his stuffed puppy.
"For you," he said. "For saving me."
Rocky blinked. "Oh, buddy, you don't have to—"
The boy nodded firmly. "I want to."
Rocky hesitated… then smiled and took the little plush dog.
"I'll take good care of him," he promised.
The boy beamed.
As the crowd started to disperse, Chase pulled Skye aside, his ears twitching slightly.
She raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"
Chase hesitated for half a second, then exhaled.
"…I was worried about you up there."
Skye's smirk softened into something gentler. "I know."
Chase shook his head, ears twitching again. "No, like—really worried. The Ferris wheel was falling apart, and even though I knew you could handle it, there was a second where—" He stopped himself, feeling a lump in his throat that threatened to grow. Then he sighed. "I just… I don't like it when you're in danger."
A pause.
Then, Skye smiled.
Not teasing. Not playful. Just warm.
She reached out and nudged her muzzle against his cheek.
"I know," she repeated, her voice quieter this time. "But you don't have to hold your breath for me, Chase. I'll always land on my paws."
Chase exhaled slowly, then nodded. "…I know."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Skye smirked. "You did hold your breath though, didn't you?"
Chase groaned, running a paw down his face. "Drop it, Skye."
Skye giggled. "Never."
As the last of the fairgrounds settled down, the team gathered around Ryder, who looked at each of them with pride.
"That was a tough mission," Ryder said. "But because of you guys, everyone made it home safe."
Zuma grinned. "Yeah, and Rocky was totally the MVP today."
Rubble nodded. "For real! That was some next-level engineering!"
Rocky rubbed the back of his neck. "Eh… I just did what needed to be done. Skye's the one who flew everyone out of there—including me!"
Skye smirked. "I couldn't have gotten everyone out of there without you holding the Ferris wheel up."
"Yeah, Rocky," Chase added. "Don't ever underestimate what you add to the team with your engineering expertise."
Rocky grinned. "Alright, alright, you guys win. This time."
Marshall tilted his head. "So… do we still have time for more fair rides?"
Ryder laughed. "The Ferris wheel might be out of commission, but the rest of the fair is still open. Go have fun, you've earned it."
The team cheered and took off toward the games and rides.
Rocky lingered for just a second.
He looked down at the small stuffed puppy still clutched in his paw.
A hero.
For the first time, he really felt it.
Then, with a small, private smile, he followed his friends into the fair.
Chapter 18: Marshall's Curse
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The grand organ of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church thundered as Joseph Gallius drove toward the electrifying conclusion of Duruflé's Prelude and Fugue on the name 'Alain'.
His hands blurred across the manuals, his feet darting with dizzying precision over the pedals as the fugue subject raced toward its climactic stretto. Each phrase built upon the last, layers of harmonic intensity swirling like a storm, growing bigger, faster, and more inevitable—
And then, in a final burst of unstoppable momentum, Joseph plunged into the last bars, unleashing that legendary pedal solo—the most furious flurry of notes yet. His feet flew across the deepest ranks of the organ, the bass lines roaring beneath the cascading chords in the upper manuals—
Until, at last—
A triumphant explosion of sound.
The entire church seemed to breathe out as the final chord rang through the vaulted ceiling, the deep pedal note anchoring the foundation as shimmering overtones danced in the air.
Joseph held the final chord for just a second longer, letting the sound settle like the weight of something truly monumental, before finally releasing the keys and pedals.
Silence.
Then—
Thunderous applause.
The audience erupted, cheers filling the church as Joseph leaned back, releasing a deep exhale of exhaustion and exhilaration. The PAW Patrol, gathered in one of the front pews, cheered the loudest, their voices joining the overwhelming ovation.
Katie's hands stung from clapping, but she didn't care. Her heart was still soaring.
Joseph stood, giving a modest bow before stepping down from the console. His expression was relaxed, but Katie could see it—the subtle satisfaction in his eyes. The kind of look a musician gives when they know they've just nailed it.
As the applause continued, Katie found herself reflecting on the entire recital, her mind replaying the evening's music like a treasured memory.
It had started with fire and precision—the dazzling Prelude and Fugue in D Major by J.S. Bach, a true Baroque showpiece. The bold, regal prelude had surged forward with unstoppable momentum, while the fugue had been a masterclass in control, Joseph's footwork on the pedals flawless as he navigated the whirling counterpoint.
Then, the tone had shifted completely—the Adagietto from Mahler's Symphony No. 5, arranged for organ. A moment of pure introspection and tenderness, filled with achingly beautiful, floating harmonies. Katie had practically melted in her seat, letting the warm, glowing celestes and flutes wash over her. It was as if Joseph had poured his very soul into the instrument, drawing out a depth of emotion she never thought an organ could express.
After that had come a delightful surprise—Leo Sowerby's Fantasia for Flute Stops, a piece she hadn't been familiar with before. Playful, colorful, and full of light textures, Joseph had made the instrument sing like a whole orchestra of flutes, bringing a welcome sense of whimsy and airiness after the heavy emotions of Mahler.
And then…
The grand finale.
Duruflé's Prelude and Fugue on Alain, the piece that had just brought the house down.
It had started with mystery—the ethereal, rippling Prelude, which had built from an almost improvised-sounding meditation into a roaring, restless whirlwind. But it was the Fugue that had left her breathless—its relentless energy, its unstoppable drive, culminating in that powerful pedal solo.
The way Joseph had played it… it had been transcendent.
Katie pressed a hand over her heart. She had already loved him before. But tonight? Tonight, she had fallen even harder.
She turned to Raine, who sat beside her, the Blue Heeler still staring at the towering organ, ears slightly back.
Finally, after a long moment, Raine snorted and shook her head.
"Not bad, is he?" she muttered.
Katie and the others burst into laughter.
Joseph took another bow, then made his way toward them. As he approached, Katie beamed up at him, her heart still racing from the performance.
He stopped in front of them, raising an eyebrow at her expression.
"You good?" he asked, amused.
Katie simply sighed dreamily. "I love you."
Joseph blinked at the abrupt declaration—then chuckled, shaking his head.
"I take it you liked the Duruflé?"
"Liked?" Katie scoffed. "Joseph, I'm lucky I didn't pass out—during that or the Mahler!"
Joseph smirked, glancing at Raine. "What about you?"
Raine tilted her head, considering. Then she gave a lazy shrug.
"Eh. I've heard worse." But her half-smile betrayed her admiration for both the performance she'd just witnessed and the performer who made it happen.
Joseph chuckled, shaking his head. But as the applause finally began to die down, Ryder stood, stretching.
"Well," Ryder said, "That was incredible. But I think it's time we head out—we've got a busy day tomorrow."
Joseph nodded. "You guys have plans?"
"Yeah," Ryder grinned. "The boys are gonna check out the new museum in town."
Skye smirked. "And the girls..."
Katie petted Raine's head. "Having a much-needed girls' day."
Raine's ears twitched, but she didn't protest. Instead, she exhaled dramatically and gave the most long-suffering, put-upon sigh imaginable.
"Great. Because that doesn't sound terrifying."
Skye giggled. "Oh, you're gonna love it."
Raine muttered something under her breath as the group laughed.
"You should come with us!" Zuma exclaimed.
"Yeah," Rocky agreed, "they've got all kinds of interesting exhibits down there."
Ryder turned to Joseph. "What do you say?"
Joseph considered for a moment. He was going to take an off day tomorrow, but it did sound like a lot of fun...
"Sure," Joseph relented, "I'll meet you guys there."
As they made their way toward the exit, Joseph fell into step beside Katie, their hands brushing. She took his fingers without hesitation, leaning against him as they walked.
And as they stepped into the cool night air, she already knew—
She was going to be replaying that recital in her head for weeks.
Good thing Father Chris recorded the whole thing for YouTube…
The Adventure Bay Museum bustled with excitement as the PAW Patrol boys, along with Joseph, entered its grand hall. The special exhibit on Ancient Egypt had drawn a sizeable crowd, with intricate displays showcasing everything from glittering treasures to mysterious hieroglyphics.
Ryder led the group, his eyes scanning the massive banners hanging from the ceiling. "Alright, everyone, explore wherever you want. Let's meet back here in an hour."
Each dog eagerly darted toward something that caught their eye:
Rocky stopped at a table displaying early engineering techniques, marveling at the tools used to construct the pyramids.
Rubble leaned in close to examine a detailed model of the Great Pyramid. "Whoa, this is so cool! How'd they even build this without diggers?"
Zuma wandered off, muttering, "Gotta be some treasure here somewhere. Golden masks? Jewel-encrusted coffins?"
Chase, always focused, read about Egyptian law enforcement. "Huh, so they had these guys called Medjay who protected tombs… kinda like K9s of the ancient world."
Ryder studied the cryptic hieroglyphics carved into a replica tomb wall. "Imagine trying to read this without a translation guide. This is incredible!"
Joseph, still basking in the glow of last night's recital, leaned toward an exhibit on music. "They actually had music notation back then? It's primitive, but fascinating."
Meanwhile, Marshall wandered toward the mummy exhibit. His eyes widened as he approached the centerpiece—a glass display holding a preserved, bandaged figure resting in an ornate sarcophagus. The mummy's face, leathery and haunting, peeked through layers of worn linen.
A tour guide, wearing a crisp uniform and a mysterious smile, addressed a gathering crowd in front of the sarcophagus. His voice was deep and theatrical.
"This, my friends, is the mummy of Akhenut the Unlucky," he began, gesturing dramatically toward the display. "An ill-fated pharaoh whose reign was plagued by famine, floods, and betrayal. Legend has it, those who gaze too long into his preserved face may find themselves cursed with misfortune!"
Marshall tilted his head curiously, stepping closer to the glass. His reflection mixed with the mummy's eerie features as he peered intently.
Chase, standing nearby, smirked and leaned over. "Careful, Marshall," he teased. "You don't wanna get cursed."
Marshall laughed and waved a paw dismissively. "C'mon, Chase. Curses aren't real!"
To prove his point, he leaned in even closer, squinting at the mummy's weathered face. He muttered under his breath, "I mean, how could this guy curse anyone? He's been dead for thousands of years."
From behind, Zuma grinned mischievously, creeping closer. He glanced at Chase, who raised an eyebrow, silently daring him. Zuma winked.
Just as Marshall tilted his head for another look, Zuma suddenly jumped forward and bellowed, "Boo!"
Marshall yelped, his paws flailing as he leapt straight into the air. He landed with a dramatic crash, sprawled across the polished floor. The sound echoed through the hall.
The rest of the group turned, startled at first, before bursting into laughter. Zuma was laughing the loudest, practically rolling on the floor.
"Dude," Zuma wheezed, barely able to catch his breath, "you shoulda seen your face!"
Marshall groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up. His ears burned with embarrassment, but even he couldn't suppress a sheepish chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, real funny," he muttered.
Chase stepped closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Uh-oh, Marshall," he said in a mock-serious tone. "You looked too long, then you fell near the mummy. That's, like… double curse territory."
Marshall rolled his eyes. "Riiight. Well, if I was cursed, I'd be the first to know, wouldn't I?"
The group shared another round of laughter as Marshall got to his paws. Ryder shook his head with an amused smile. "Alright, let's move on. We've got a lot more to see."
As the group headed toward the next exhibit, Marshall cast one last glance at the mummy. For a moment, its hollow eyes seemed to gleam.
He shook his head and muttered to himself, "Curses aren't real… right?"
The afternoon sunlight streamed into the Lookout's supply room as Marshall hummed a cheerful tune, his tail wagging lazily behind him. He padded toward the cabinet and pulled open the top drawer, reaching for a roll of gauze to replenish the first-aid kit.
The drawer suddenly snapped shut with a loud bang!
Marshall jumped back, ears flattening as his eyes widened. "Whoa!" he yelped, staring at the closed drawer as if it might spring to life.
He hesitated for a moment, then laughed nervously, brushing off the strange occurrence. "That was weird… probably just my imagination."
With a cautious paw, he opened the drawer again. The gauze roll peeked out invitingly, and he reached for it once more.
Bang!
The drawer slammed shut a second time, harder than before. Marshall yelped again, stumbling backward as his tail tucked low. "Okaaay… maybe the Lookout's just… settling?" he muttered, his voice wavering.
His gaze darted around the quiet room, half-expecting one of his teammates to jump out laughing. But everything was still. Too still.
Marshall backed away from the cabinet, leaving the drawer closed. "Yeah… just settling. Totally normal." He turned and hurried out of the room, his wagging tail now tucked tightly between his legs.
Katie's Pet Salon smelled faintly of lavender and chamomile, the calming scents wafting through the air as Skye settled onto the grooming table with a contented sigh. Katie adjusted the nozzle on the fur dryer and glanced over her shoulder at Raine, who stood stiffly near the doorway, looking as though she'd rather be anywhere else.
"Alright, Raine," Katie said with a playful grin. "First up—fur treatment!"
Raine's ears flicked, her blue-gray fur bristling slightly. "I like my fur the way it is," she said, her voice flat.
From her spot under the dryer, Skye peeked out with a knowing smile. "You'll love it. Just relax."
Raine huffed, eyeing the grooming table like it was some kind of trap. "I don't do 'relax,'" she muttered, even as Katie gently guided her to sit down.
Katie chuckled softly as she started brushing through Raine's fur, her strokes firm but careful. At first, Raine sat rigidly, her tail flicking in protest, but as the minutes passed, something shifted. Katie's brush moved smoothly through her coat, loosening tangles and spreading the scented oil evenly.
Raine's ears stopped twitching. Her shoulders, once hunched defensively, began to relax. Her eyes drifted half-closed as Katie massaged the oil into her fur, the rhythmic motions clearly soothing.
Katie's lips quirked into a knowing smile. "So… still hate it?"
Raine hesitated, her voice softer than before. "…It's fine."
Skye grinned from her table, her tail wagging lazily. "Translation: she loves it."
Raine shot her a mock glare, though her tone lacked its usual sharpness. "Don't push it."
Katie turned Raine toward the mirror, giving her a moment to take in the results. Her fur shimmered in the soft light, the oils enhancing her natural colors.
Raine blinked, her reflection holding her gaze. "…I look nice," she admitted grudgingly, her voice almost too quiet to hear.
Katie beamed. "Gorgeous, actually."
Raine rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Alright, alright, don't get sappy on me," she said, stepping down from the table.
As they left the salon, Katie locked the door behind them, chatting cheerfully with Skye about their next stop. Raine trailed behind, her pace slow, her gaze flicking to the shop window every few steps. The faint reflection of her sleek, glistening coat made her pause, a flicker of pride lighting in her eyes before she hurried to catch up.
For someone who didn't do "relax," Raine looked remarkably at ease
The midday sun gleamed off the Lookout as Marshall trotted over to the water refilling station, his water tank clinking lightly against his pack. He hummed a cheery tune, still trying to shake off the weird events of the day.
"Alright, time to hydrate," he muttered to himself as he grabbed the hose and secured it to the tank's input valve. Turning the handle, he waited for the cool rush of water to fill the reservoir.
Instead, there was a loud pop!
Before he could react, the hose shot off the valve and sprayed a high-pressure jet of water straight into his face. Marshall yelped, stumbling back as the icy stream drenched his fur.
"WHOA! COLD! COLD!" he sputtered, paws scrambling to grab the rogue hose as it writhed on the ground like a wild snake. After a frantic struggle, he finally managed to shut off the valve, dripping and gasping for air.
He stood there, water pooling around his paws, and glanced suspiciously at the station. "The curse hates me!" he declared dramatically, shaking off the excess water. His tail drooped as he trudged off to dry himself, completely unaware of Zuma peeking around the corner, holding his sides as he tried not to burst out laughing.
Lunch at the Lookout was usually a highlight of the day, but Marshall approached his food bowl cautiously this time. He eyed it suspiciously, as if expecting it to bite him. "Okay, bowl," he muttered. "Let's keep this simple."
Carefully, he grabbed the bowl with both paws and lifted it off the counter. For a split second, everything seemed fine.
Then, with a horrifying crack, the bottom of the bowl gave out completely, sending kibble scattering across the floor like marbles.
Marshall froze, his jaw dropping. He stared at the mess for a moment before throwing his paws into the air. "I knew it! I'm doomed! I'm cursed! I'm… I'm…"
Zuma, sitting nearby, snorted into his paw, his eyes watering as he tried to contain his laughter. "Tough break, dude," he managed, biting his lip to keep from cracking up.
Marshall groaned, collapsing onto the floor beside the kibble as if the weight of the curse had finally defeated him. "Why me?!"
Marshall, now thoroughly convinced of his cursed fate, muttered darkly to himself as he walked toward the garage. He barely noticed his surroundings, too focused on planning how to survive the rest of the day without tempting further disaster.
As he passed through the doorway, a sudden whoosh and a loud thud stopped him in his tracks.
"AAAH!" Marshall yelped as something light and fluffy rained down on his head. He frantically shook himself, sending colorful confetti flying everywhere. "That's it! I'm going to sleep! I don't care what time it is, I can't be hit with more plagues if I'm asleep!"
Marshall stomped off toward the doghouses, his fur still dusted with stray pieces of confetti.
Around the corner, Chase turned just in time to see Zuma holding the empty bucket, laughing so hard he could barely stand.
"Zuma…"
Zuma froze, his grin widening into a sheepish smile. "Okay, okay, you caught me," he admitted, holding up his paws in mock surrender. "But come on—tell me this isn't hilarious."
Chase sighed, his stern expression softening into a reluctant smirk.
Zuma beamed. "So… can I do just one more? Please? You gotta let me finish this!"
Chase paused, clearly considering it. After a moment, he sighed and gestured for Zuma to carry on. "Fine. One more. And it better be good."
Zuma grinned mischievously. "Trust me, dude. This one's gonna be legendary."
The two exchanged a knowing glance before Chase walked off, shaking his head with a bemused chuckle.
Meanwhile, Zuma set to work, his mind buzzing with plans for the ultimate grand finale.
The late morning sun cast golden hues across Mr. Porter's Café, its outdoor seating area buzzing with the gentle hum of conversation and clinking dishes. A light summer breeze carried the scent of fresh pastries through the air as Katie, Skye, and Raine settled into their seats, their drinks already in hand.
Katie leaned back with a dreamy sigh, her fingers tracing the rim of her iced coffee.
"I still can't get over last night," she murmured. "Joseph's recital was just… incredible."
Raine, lounging comfortably with her tail curled over her paws, smirked knowingly. "You mean the Bach was incredible?"
Katie's face warmed. "No, I mean all of it! The Bach was dazzling, and the Mahler was just… ugh, gorgeous." She rested her chin in her hand. "But the Duruflé? That was something else."
Skye tilted her head. "That was the last one, right? The one that looked like it practically swept you off your feet?"
Katie let out a light laugh, half-embarrassed, half-entranced by the memory. "You have no idea. It wasn't just the music—Joseph poured his whole heart into it. I could feel it in every note. It was powerful, emotional, alive."
Raine gave her an amused look, her blue-speckled tail flicking. "Yeah, we all noticed. I think you were about two seconds away from melting into your chair."
Katie playfully nudged her. "Oh, like you weren't impressed?"
Raine gave a half-shrug, but there was warmth behind it. "I was. I mean, I've heard him practice, but last night was different. It was like… I don't know, like watching someone speak through the keys. And the Duruflé? That was him saying something loud."
Katie beamed. "See? You get it!"
Skye smiled at them both. "Sounds like you two are his biggest fans."
Katie leaned forward conspiratorially. "Oh, I know I am. But Raine? She's pretty proud of him too."
Raine snorted. "Well, yeah. He's my human. If he's gonna be great at something, I'm allowed to be proud."
Skye grinned. "You're adorable when you pretend you're not sentimental."
Raine rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
The conversation shifted naturally, and soon, Skye was recounting at the fair a while ago with animated excitement. "I still can't believe how fun that performance was! The acrobats I got to work with were amazing, and... honestly? I nailed that corkscrew."
Katie took a sip of her drink, grinning. "Oh, I believe it. And let me guess—Chase nearly had a heart attack watching you do it?"
Skye laughed, shaking her head. "You know he did. He was holding his breath again."
Raine arched an eyebrow. "That's a thing?"
Katie and Skye exchanged amused looks. "Oh, yeah," Skye confirmed. "He thinks he hides it well, but I can always tell."
Katie smirked. "That's kind of sweet, though. You've got a big strong fella looking out for you."
Skye rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, please. He's not sweeping me off my feet. He just worries."
Katie gave her a knowing look. "Uh-huh. And do you hate it?"
Skye hesitated. Then, with a small smile, she admitted, "No. I appreciate it, actually. He's always watching out for me. I mean, I don't need protecting, but…" she paused, thoughtful. "It's nice knowing someone cares like that."
Raine smirked. "You guys are disgustingly cute."
Katie giggled. "Aren't they?"
Skye groaned. "Okay, okay, let's move on before you two make it weird."
Skye and Katie glanced at each other before both turning to Raine with identical smirks.
Raine immediately narrowed her eyes. "Oh no. No, no, no. I know that look."
Katie grinned. "Come on, Raine. You've gotta have some crush."
Raine snorted. "Yep. You caught me. His name is nobody."
Skye tilted her head. "Not even a little interest?"
Raine hesitated, glancing down at her drink. Then, with an exhale, she said honestly:
"Honestly? I'm not really thinking about that kind of stuff right now. I'm still… getting used to the whole idea of having a home. And friends."
Her voice was light, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
Katie and Skye's teasing smiles softened immediately.
"That makes sense," Katie said gently. "You've been through a lot. No rush."
Skye nodded. "Yeah. One thing at a time, right?"
Raine gave a small, grateful nod. "Right."
And just like that, the conversation eased back into lighter topics, the three of them simply enjoying the moment—no pressure, no expectations, just friends sharing a peaceful afternoon.
It was early afternoon, and the sun cast a warm glow over the Lookout. Most of the team was relaxing after lunch, but Marshall? Marshall was in full panic mode. His "curse" had already sent him into a tailspin of paranoia, and now he was seeking refuge in the only place he thought might protect him—his fire truck doghouse.
He curled up tightly inside, his tail twitching nervously as he whispered to himself. "Okay, okay… safe place. Can't get me in here. Stupid mummy."
For a moment, there was silence, and Marshall started to relax. "Yeah… yeah, this is fine. I'm safe. Just imagining things…"
Then, a deep, eerie whisper suddenly echoed through the doghouse.
"Marshaaall… I am always with yooouuu…"
Marshall's eyes shot open in sheer horror. "W-wha—?!"
The ghostly voice grew louder. "…You cannot hiiiiiddde…"
Marshall screamed at the top of his lungs, scrambling to his paws and flailing wildly. His head hit the roof of the doghouse as he bolted out, tumbling head over tail into the grass.
Zuma was already rolling on the ground nearby, laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. Clutched in his paw was a tiny, battery-powered speaker, the source of the "cursed voice."
Marshall, panting and wide-eyed, looked around wildly before zeroing in on Zuma. "Are you KIDDING ME?!"
Zuma, wiping away a tear, barely managed to gasp between fits of laughter. "Ohhh, dude… that was the best one yet!"
The commotion had drawn the rest of the team, who gathered outside to see what was happening. Chase, already aware of Zuma's antics, crossed his paws and smirked.
"I should have stopped him," Chase said, shaking his head. "But honestly? That was worth it."
Marshall groaned, flopping dramatically onto the grass. "Dude… you are the WORST."
Zuma, still grinning from ear to ear, gave him a playful nudge. "Nah, I'm the BEST. Admit it—you'll laugh about this later!"
Before Marshall could retort, the girls returned from their day out. They paused at the edge of the scene, taking in Marshall sprawled in the grass, the tiny speaker in Zuma's paw, and the rest of the team chuckling.
Katie tilted her head. "What in the world happened here?"
The boys quickly filled them in, from their visit to the museum to the string of pranks and how Zuma had orchestrated everything to make Marshall think he was under some ancient Egyptian curse. Raine listened quietly, her tail flicking as she tried to stifle a grin.
When the story ended, Katie folded her arms, giving Zuma a mock-stern look. "Zuma, you are incorrigible."
Zuma shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Guilty as charged."
Skye shook her head, chuckling. "Poor Marshall. You look like you've had a rough day."
Marshall sat up, his fur still ruffled from the ordeal. "Rough is an understatement. I thought I was cursed!"
Raine finally spoke, her voice calm but with a hint of dry humor. "Well, at least you know now it wasn't the mummy. Just your very mature friend over here."
Everyone laughed, and even Marshall couldn't help but crack a smile. He gave Zuma a light shove. "Alright, alright. You got me. But next time? Maybe give me a warning?"
"No promises," Zuma said, still chuckling. "But hey, I'll make it up to you. Ice cream on me?"
Marshall perked up, his tail wagging slightly. "Deal."
As the group headed back toward the Lookout, the air was filled with laughter and banter. The "curse" may have been fake, but the fun—and the bond between the team—was very real.
And that's how Marshall's "curse" came to an end—not with ancient magic, but with a prank, a laugh, and a reminder that even on the roughest days, friends are there to lighten the load.
Notes:
Friends, you should all definitely look up and listen to the pieces of music mentioned in Joseph's Recital; they are all inspired masterworks!
Chapter 19: In Deep
Chapter Text
The sun broke through the clouds for the first time in days, its golden light spilling across the cliffs of Adventure Bay. Everything gleamed with the fresh shimmer of rain, the world scrubbed clean and sparkling as if to celebrate the return of clear skies. The PAW Patrol was gathered outside the Lookout, their usual morning buzz heightened by an air of anticipation.
Ryder stood beside a sleek, black Ford F-150, its glossy finish catching the sunlight in a way that made it seem almost alive. The truck was a marvel—a gift from the community, its presence a testament to Adventure Bay's gratitude for the team's countless acts of service.
Ryder's grin was infectious as he gestured to the vehicle. "Here it is, everyone—our new truck. Top-of-the-line, built for anything we might need."
The team crowded around, their excitement palpable.
"Whoa, check out those tires!" Rubble exclaimed, his tail wagging furiously. "They're huge! Bet they can roll over anything."
Zuma circled the truck, his eyes gleaming. "Dude, awesome! Can it go underwater?"
"Not quite," Ryder chuckled. "But it'll handle just about everything else."
Skye leaned closer, inspecting the interior through the open window. "Leather seats, navigation system, advanced rescue tools… this thing has it all."
Chase's sharp eyes scanned the undercarriage, nodding approvingly. "Looks solid. This'll be great for transporting supplies."
As the team marveled at the truck, Skye stepped back, tilting her head toward the sky. The sunlight danced across her fur as she closed her eyes, basking in its warmth.
"You know," she said, her voice light, "I think I'm almost more excited about finally seeing the sun again. It's been pouring for days—I thought I'd never get dry."
Her comment drew a chuckle from Zuma, who playfully shook off an imaginary raindrop. "Seriously, dude. I was starting to feel like a fish."
The laughter swirled around them, warm and easy, but not everyone shared in the lighthearted mood. Rocky stood a little apart from the group, his expression distant as he gazed out at the bay. The golden light played across his gray-and-white fur, but his eyes held a shadow that not even the sunshine could chase away.
Ryder noticed and stepped closer, his tone softening. "You ready for today, Rocky?"
Rocky turned to him, the faintest trace of unease flickering across his face. "Yeah. I'm ready."
But he wasn't. How could he be? The thought of stepping into the courthouse later that morning sent a chill through him, a weight pressing down on his chest. He'd spent years pushing those memories aside, burying them deep. But now, he'd have to dig them up again—to speak them aloud, with the man who had caused so much pain sitting just feet away.
The team's chatter faded into the background as Rocky focused on the horizon, steadying himself. It wasn't the first time he'd faced something hard, and it wouldn't be the last. He just had to take it one step at a time.
"Hey, Rocky!" Rubble's cheerful voice broke through his thoughts. "What do you think of the new ride?"
Rocky blinked, forcing a smile as he turned back to the group. "It's... great. Definitely top-tier."
Rubble beamed, satisfied with the response, but Ryder's eyes lingered on Rocky for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between them needing no words.
"Well," Ryder said, clapping his hands, "enjoy the truck later. For now, we've got somewhere to be."
Rocky nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. As he followed Ryder toward the ATV, the rest of the team waved them off, their voices calling out encouragement.
"Good luck!" Skye shouted.
"You got this, dude!" Zuma added.
Rocky offered a small wave in return, grateful for their support even as he felt the knot in his stomach tighten.
The F-150 gleamed in the sunlight as Ryder and Rocky drove away, the shadow of the Lookout stretching long behind them. Adventure Bay was vibrant with life that morning, the storm clouds long gone. But for Rocky, the storm wasn't over yet.
The courthouse loomed like a sentinel of justice under the bright mid-morning sun, its stone facade gleaming with an austere strength. Inside, the corridors hummed with low murmurs and the occasional sharp tap of shoes on polished floors. Rocky sat on a wooden bench outside the courtroom, his paws clasped tightly in front of him. His gaze remained fixed on the tiled floor, as though the swirling patterns could somehow ground him.
Ryder sat beside him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His voice, low and calm, broke through the stillness. "You've got this, Rocky. You're stronger than you think."
Rocky let out a soft exhale, his ears flicking back slightly. "I'm not scared of him, Ryder. I'm scared of… all of it. Talking about it. Reliving it."
"You're doing the right thing," Ryder said firmly. "And you're not alone."
The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and a bailiff stepped into the hallway. His voice resonated in the quiet. "The court is ready for the next witness."
Rocky stood, his legs steady despite the weight pressing on his chest. He nodded to Ryder and followed the bailiff into the courtroom. Ryder also entered to sit in the crowded gallery.
The room felt vast and imposing, its high ceilings etched with ornate patterns that seemed to stretch endlessly. Rows of polished wooden benches lined the space, filled with attentive spectators and press. Judge Colson presided from her seat at the bench, her stern expression softened by an air of fairness. To her right, the jury sat in silence, their eyes sharp and curious.
At the defense table sat Martin Cassio. His face was a cold mask of indifference, but his eyes, sharp and calculating, tracked Rocky's every step. Rocky refused to look at him, focusing instead on the prosecutor, who stood waiting by the witness stand.
The judge's voice cut through the room. "State your name for the record."
Rocky stepped up onto the witness stand, adjusting himself on the seat. His voice was steady. "Rocky. I don't have a last name."
The prosecutor, a composed woman with piercing eyes and a commanding air, stepped forward. "Rocky, thank you for being here today. Can you tell the court how you know the defendant, Martin Cassio?"
Rocky's green eyes darted briefly toward Cassio before locking back on the prosecutor. "I lived with him before I joined the PAW Patrol; he was my owner."
Murmurs rippled through the courtroom. The judge banged her gavel. "Order!"
The prosecutor nodded and continued, her tone carefully neutral. "Can you describe your experience with Mr. Cassio?"
Before Rocky could respond, the defense attorney rose sharply. "Objection, Your Honor. My client is not on trial for animal abuse—this witness should be dismissed."
The prosecutor turned to the judge, her tone cool but forceful. "Your Honor, the witness will testify to actions that speak to a pattern in the defendant's behavior and provide the jury with context as to the standing charge of murder in the first degree."
The defense attorney gestured broadly, his voice rising slightly. "Context? Your Honor, this witness's testimony will clearly prejudice this jury with prior bad acts with which my client was never even charged."
The prosecutor raised an eyebrow. "The defendant has previously admitted to the abuse which the witness will detail. Defense is free to object if the witness contradicts the defendant's prior bragging—I mean confession regarding the incident in question."
The defense attorney's jaw tightened at the prosecutor's intentional slip of the tongue. "The 'incident' was never mentioned by police during their questioning, so any so-called 'confession' would be hearsay."
The prosecutor smirked faintly. "Actually, it was in a prison phone call to the defendant's girlfriend. I sent you a copy of the tape—would you like the jury to hear that, too?"
"Enough," the judge interjected, her tone sharp. "I'm allowing this witness to testify."
The defense attorney opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it, sinking back into his chair with a barely concealed scowl. "Your Honor…"
The judge cut him off. "Defense will have the opportunity to cross-examine. Your objection is overruled. Prosecution, continue."
The prosecutor turned back to Rocky with a steadying nod. "Rocky, can you tell the court what Mr. Cassio did to you?"
Rocky took a deep breath, the memories rushing back with painful clarity. His voice, though quiet, carried through the room. "One day, he… he tied me up and took me to the river. He said he didn't want me anymore. And then… he threw me in."
A hushed gasp spread through the room. The prosecutor's voice softened. "And what happened then?"
Rocky's paws tightened around the armrests. "I couldn't swim. I thought I was going to die. But then… the current shifted and pulled me to shallower water. I was lucky. He was drunk when he tied the knots, so they were sloppy; I was able to squirm free and walk away. I found Ryder later."
The prosecutor nodded. "And how has this experience affected the trajectory of your life?"
Rocky gulped. "I have severe hydrophobia—fear of water. Being submerged almost always causes a panic attack. Even taking a bath… takes me back there."
The prosecutor stepped closer, her tone firm but gentle. "Why did you agree to testify today, Rocky?"
Rocky hesitated, then met her gaze with quiet determination. "Because no one should ever have to go through what I did. If telling my story helps make sure he never hurts anyone else again, then it's worth it."
The defense attorney stood, his face pale and his lips thin. "No questions for this witness, Your Honor."
The judge nodded. "Thank you, Rocky. You may step down."
Rocky climbed down from the stand, his heart pounding but his steps steady. Cassio's glare burned into him, but Rocky didn't falter. He walked back to Ryder, who gave him an encouraging nod.
As they left the courtroom and stepped into the sunlight, Ryder spoke softly. "You did great, Rocky. You did the right thing."
Rocky glanced back at the courthouse doors, exhaling slowly. "I just hope it's enough."
The afternoon sun hung high over the cliffs as Ryder and Rocky returned to the Lookout. The familiar building stood as a beacon of safety, its sleek design contrasting with the wild natural beauty of the surrounding landscape. But for Rocky, the sight of home brought little comfort today.
The drive back from the courthouse had been quiet, save for the soft hum of Ryder's truck and the occasional bird song through the open windows. Ryder hadn't pressed Rocky to talk; he knew better. Instead, he had let the silence speak for itself, offering companionship without expectation.
As they pulled into the driveway, Rocky hopped out of the truck and headed straight for the workshop. His steps were quick, purposeful, but the tension in his posture betrayed the weight he carried.
Ryder lingered by the truck, watching Rocky disappear into the workshop before letting out a quiet sigh. As he made his way toward the Lookout's entrance, Chase and Zuma appeared from around the corner, both carrying tennis balls.
"Hey, Ryder!" Zuma called, his usual upbeat tone brightening the air. "How'd it go?"
Ryder paused, glancing toward the workshop before answering. "It went… as well as it could, I think. But Rocky's having a tough time. He didn't say much on the way back."
Chase frowned, his tail flicking slightly. "Not surprising. Now that the trial's started, he's gonna keep having a hard time until it's over and that… trash is put away."
Zuma nodded solemnly. "Yeah, dude. That's heavy stuff."
Ryder crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "The best thing we can do for him is make sure he knows he has our support."
With that, Ryder headed into the Lookout, leaving Chase and Zuma standing in the warm sunlight. The two exchanged a look—Zuma's full of concern, Chase's more contemplative.
"So, what do we do?" Zuma asked, breaking the silence.
Chase tilted his head, his brows furrowed. "I think we should give him some space. He just got back, and he's probably still processing everything."
"Space?" Zuma echoed, his tone incredulous. "Chase, come on. He's gotta know we're here for him. That we've got his back."
Chase sighed. "I know. But if we go charging in there, it might just make him feel more overwhelmed."
Zuma tilted his head, considering this. "Maybe. But what if we, like… don't charge in? What if we just check on him? Y'know, be there for him without… smothering him."
Chase hesitated, his tail swishing thoughtfully. "You really think that'll help?"
Zuma gave a small grin. "Dude, when has it not helped to let someone know you care?"
Chase sighed again, but this time with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Fine. But we're doing this carefully. No overwhelming him."
"Got it, bro," Zuma said, his grin widening. "Careful's my middle name."
Chase rolled his eyes. "Sure it is."
Together, the two headed toward the workshop. Inside, Rocky sat at his workbench, his paws idly fidgeting with a wrench. His green eyes were fixed on the tool, but his mind was elsewhere.
As Chase and Zuma entered, they exchanged a quick glance, their steps soft as they approached. They didn't say anything at first, letting their presence announce itself without pressure.
Rocky glanced up briefly, his ears twitching. "Hey," he muttered, his voice low.
"Hey, dude," Zuma said, his tone light but warm. "Mind if we hang out?"
Rocky shrugged. "Sure."
The two sat down nearby, not too close, giving Rocky his space but making their support known. For a while, the three sat in a comfortable silence, the only sound being the occasional clink of tools as Rocky fidgeted.
Finally, Chase broke the quiet, his voice steady and calm. "How're you feeling, Rocky?"
Rocky hesitated, his paws stilling on the wrench. "Okay, I guess."
"It's okay to not be okay," Chase said softly. "You went through something really hard today."
Rocky let out a small sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's just… seeing him again. Talking about it. I thought I was past it, but… it all came back."
Zuma leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but playful. "Dude, you've always been the bravest guy I know. Fixing stuff no one else can with lives on the line? That takes guts. And what you did today? That's next-level brave."
Rocky glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know about that."
"It's true," Chase said firmly. "What you did today wasn't just brave—it was important. You're making sure he can't hurt anyone else. That matters."
Rocky looked between the two of them, his eyes softening. "Thanks, guys. I mean it. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Zuma grinned. "Lucky for you, bro, you'll never have to find out."
For the first time that day, Rocky chuckled softly. And in that moment, with his friends beside him, the weight on his shoulders felt just a little bit lighter
The sun was high in the sky by the time Chase and Skye found a quiet moment to themselves. They had retreated to their favorite spot—a grassy hill on the Lookout campus, shaded by a sprawling oak tree that overlooked the sparkling waters of Adventure Bay. The breeze carried the fresh scent of salt and wildflowers, and for a moment, the world felt calm.
Chase lay stretched out on his side, his gaze fixed on the waves in the distance, while Skye sat nearby, nibbling on a biscuit Ryder had packed with their lunch. The silence between them was companionable, but Skye could sense the faint tension in Chase's demeanor.
"So," she began lightly, breaking the stillness. "Is Rocky gonna be okay?"
Chase's ears flicked, and he turned his head slightly to look at her. "I think so," he said after a pause. "He's just gonna need a lot of support from all of us until this trial is over."
Skye nodded, her soft pink fur catching the sunlight. "He's lucky to have you, you know. You're always so steady. That's what makes you such a great leader."
Chase gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Steady, huh? Not sure that's the word I'd use."
Skye tilted her head, watching him carefully. "And… what about you? You've got things on your mind too."
Chase hesitated, his gaze dropping to the grass. He pawed at the ground absently, his tone thoughtful. "I'm okay. It's just… most of the names in the file turned out to be fake. But I have a couple of leads. I've managed to dig up a couple of phone numbers."
He paused, glancing at her, as if debating whether to continue. When she didn't press, he sighed and went on. "I feel dirty about sneaking into Ryder's office late at night to make those phone calls, but I don't see any other way."
Skye's expression softened, and she reached out, resting a paw on his. "You know I'm behind you all the way, but…"
Chase turned to her, his brows furrowing slightly. "But… what?"
She hesitated, her gaze searching his face. "Just… be careful, Chase. You don't know how this investigation is going to end. And… I don't want you to get hurt."
For a moment, Chase didn't respond. Then he gave her paw a gentle squeeze, his voice quiet but resolute. "I'll be careful. I promise."
Skye smiled faintly, though her concern lingered in her eyes. Before either of them could say more, their communicators buzzed simultaneously, Ryder's voice crackling through the line.
"PAW Patrol, to the Lookout on the double."
Chase sat up, his ears perking. Ryder's tone sounded urgent.
Skye was already on her paws, her expression shifting to one of focus. "Looks like it's go-time."
Chase nodded, his tail flicking as they hurried back toward the Lookout. Whatever the mission was, they'd be ready
The mission alarm echoed through the Lookout, cutting through the quiet hum of the afternoon. Within moments, the PAW Patrol gathered in the briefing room, their eyes on Ryder as he stood before the glowing mission board. His expression was calm but serious—a clear signal that this wasn't an ordinary call.
Ryder tapped the screen, bringing up an aerial map of a small farm nestled near the edge of Adventure Bay. "Team, we've got a problem. After several days of heavy rain, this farm is starting to flood. If we don't act fast, the water could damage the crops and drown a lot of animals."
The screen shifted, zooming in on the area surrounding the farm. A winding river bordered the property, its waters swollen from the recent storms.
"The plan," Ryder continued, "is to dig a canal from the low-lying parts of the farm to the river. This will drain the excess water before it causes serious damage."
The team nodded in understanding. Rubble adjusted his hardhat, already anticipating the work ahead.
Ryder's voice grew more serious. "But there's a challenge. The area where the canal will meet the river is clogged with debris—fallen branches, logs, and other obstacles from the storms. If we don't clear that out, the water won't flow."
Rocky straightened slightly, his ears perking. He remembered what happened the last time debris had to be moved near a river…
"Rocky and Zuma," Ryder said, looking directly at them, "you'll be in charge of clearing the debris. It's a critical part of the plan."
"No worries, dude," Zuma said with his usual confidence.
But Rocky hesitated. Zuma turned to Rocky, flashing a reassuring grin. "I got your back, bro."
Rocky returned a small but sincere smile.
Ryder continued. "There's one more complication." The map shifted again, showing a tall tree leaning precariously over the riverbank. Ryder circled a branch near the top with his laser pointer. "The farmer's cat climbed up this tree earlier today and is now stuck on a branch directly over the water. The branch looks unstable, and if it breaks, the cat could fall into the river."
Marshall gasped. "I'm on it, Ryder! My ladder can reach the cat."
"Good," Ryder said. "Marshall, you'll handle the cat rescue first. Once that's done, Rocky and Zuma can start clearing the debris."
"Rubble," Ryder said, turning to the bulldog, "there's a construction crew en route; you'll work with them to dig the canal. It's going to be tough work, but I know you're ready for it."
Rubble grinned. "Rubble on the double!"
"Chase and Skye," Ryder continued, "I'll need you both to help coordinate. Chase, you'll handle logistics and communications. Skye, the wind today is too strong for you to fly safely, so stay on the ground and act as a spotter."
Skye nodded. "You got it, Ryder."
Ryder took a breath, his gaze sweeping over the team. "This is a big one, but I know we can handle it. Let's get to it."
The team cheered in unison, their enthusiasm tempered by the gravity of the mission as they dispersed to their vehicles.
The PAW Patrol vehicles rolled onto the muddy farmland, engines humming against the steady sound of rushing water. The landscape was a patchwork of fields and puddles, with water creeping steadily toward the farmhouse and barn. Ryder stepped out of his truck, surveying the scene with practiced precision. He turned to his team.
"Alright, team, let's stick to the plan. We've got a lot of moving parts here, so communication is key."
Marshall was already deploying his ladder, his determined gaze fixed on the frightened tabby clinging to the unstable branch. The cat's pitiful meows echoed faintly over the rushing river below.
"I'm on it, Ryder!" Marshall barked as he extended the ladder toward the tree.
The branch creaked ominously as the wind whipped through the leaves, but Marshall moved with calm confidence. He reached the cat, his voice soft and reassuring.
"Hey, it's okay. I've got you," Marshall said, offering the tabby his paw. The cat hesitated for a moment, then leaped into Marshall's arms. He carefully descended the ladder, the entire team exhaling in relief as he handed the cat back to the grateful farmer.
"Nice work, Marshall," Ryder said with a nod. "Rubble, you're up!"
"Let's dig, team!" Rubble shouted, his digger already rumbling to life.
He took the lead with the construction crew, his small but mighty presence commanding attention. "Alright, we need this canal done fast and done right! Start here and dig toward the river—steady and smooth. I'll clear the way if we hit anything tough."
The workers nodded, their movements quick and efficient as Rubble's digger clawed into the wet soil, carving out the beginning of the canal.
Meanwhile, by the riverbank, Rocky and Zuma surveyed the tangle of branches and logs that blocked the water's path. The river churned just beyond the obstruction, its powerful current threatening to spill over its banks if the debris wasn't cleared.
Zuma wagged his tail. "Alright, dude, let's do this!"
Rocky hesitated for a split second, the roar of the river filling his ears. Then he nodded. "Let's go."
The pair got to work, their teamwork seamless as they tackled the smaller branches first. Rocky used his grabber claw to lift and toss debris, while Zuma hauled away the lighter pieces with his teeth.
But then they hit a snag: a massive log. It was too heavy for Zuma to budge, and even Rocky's claw struggled against its weight.
"Hang on," Rocky said, his mind racing. "Brute force isn't gonna do it—let's try some physics."
At Zuma's puzzled expression, Rocky added, "We need leverage."
He scanned the area, his eyes landing on a sturdy branch half-buried in the mud nearby. He dragged it over, positioning it under the log like a lever.
"Zuma, help me push."
The two of them leaned into the branch, their muscles straining. Slowly, the log began to shift, groaning as it rolled down the bank and into the river. The current caught it, carrying it harmlessly downstream.
"Nice work, bro!" Zuma panted, grinning.
Rocky allowed himself a small smile. "One step closer."
Nearby, Ryder and Chase stood by, monitoring the progress. Skye was grounded due to the strong winds, but her sharp eyes were fixed on the entire operation, ready to alert Ryder to any potential dangers.
"Chase," Ryder said, "check in with Rubble."
Chase tapped his communicator. "Rubble, how's it going?"
Rubble's voice crackled through. "We're making great progress, Chase! Just cleared a big rock—should hit the river in twenty minutes."
Chase nodded, relaying the update to Ryder. The mission was on track, but the tension in the air was palpable. The wind picked up, carrying the sharp scent of rain, and the floodwater inched closer to the farm.
Back at the canal, Rubble's leadership shone. When one of the construction workers struggled to clear a particularly stubborn root, Rubble rolled over to help.
"Let me take a crack at it," he said, maneuvering his digger with practiced ease. He cleared the root in seconds, turning back to the worker. "Now keep going! We've got this!"
The worker grinned. "Thanks, Rubble!"
With renewed energy, the crew pushed forward, their diggers and shovels carving the canal toward the river. Rubble kept them motivated, barking encouragement and keeping their focus sharp.
Finally, after an hour of grueling work, the canal reached the riverbank. The workers stepped back as the floodwater surged through the newly dug channel, gushing into the river and relieving the pressure on the farmland.
A collective cheer rose from the construction crew and the PAW Patrol as the water level on the farm began to recede. The farmer approached, his boots squelching in the muddy ground, a broad smile on his face.
"You saved the farm!" he exclaimed. "I don't know how to thank you."
"It's what we do," Ryder said with a smile, giving the farmer a firm handshake.
Rocky and Zuma stood by the riverbank, catching their breath. Rocky wiped a paw across his forehead, his fur damp from the effort as well as the spray of the river.
"Good job, guys," Ryder called. "Take a minute to rest. You've earned it."
The afternoon sun glinted off the river, its surface deceptively calm now that the debris had been cleared. Rocky and Zuma sat on the bank, their energy spent but their spirits high. The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and rain-soaked grass, a lingering reminder of the flood they had just prevented.
"Man," Zuma said, flopping onto his back and staring at the sky. "That was some intense stuff, huh?"
Rocky nodded, leaning against a nearby tree and letting out a tired breath. "Yeah. It's not every day you stop a farm from flooding."
Zuma grinned. "You were awesome back there, bro. That whole wedge-thing you came up with? Genius."
Rocky shrugged, but a small smile crept onto his face. "Just doing my part."
Nearby, the rest of the team stood with the farmer, discussing the final steps to ensure the canal held steady. Skye stood at the edge of the group, occasionally glancing toward the river, where her two teammates rested. The wind was still too strong for her to take to the skies, but even from the ground, her sharp eyes never missed a detail.
It happened in an instant.
The branch that had supported the cat earlier, now weakened from the earlier strain, gave way with a loud crack. Before either dog could react, it fell, striking Zuma squarely on the head. His brown eyes widened briefly in surprise before fluttering closed as his body slumped forward.
"Zuma!" Rocky screamed as his friend tumbled into the river, the current immediately pulling him downstream.
Rocky's heart pounded in his chest as panic clawed at his throat. "Help! Ryder! Zuma's in the water!"
The rest of the team turned sharply at Rocky's cry, but they were too far away to act immediately. Rocky's eyes darted to the river, where Zuma's unconscious form floated farther from the bank.
He knew what he had to do.
Without another thought, Rocky plunged into the water. The cold enveloped him like a vice, his legs kicking uselessly as he struggled to stay afloat. He didn't know how to swim, and the current was relentless. But he didn't care. All that mattered was reaching Zuma.
Rocky's claws grazed Zuma's fur, and he grabbed hold with trembling paws. "I've got you," he gasped, though the words were as much for himself as they were for his unconscious friend.
The river surged around them, dragging them farther downstream. Rocky's chest tightened, the water pressing against him like an invisible weight. He couldn't do this. He couldn't—
No.
Rocky forced the panic aside, his eyes scanning desperately for something—anything—to anchor them. His gaze landed on a low-hanging branch jutting out from the riverbank. Gritting his teeth, he extended his grabber claw, its mechanical arm whirring as it latched onto the branch.
The strain was immense. The current pulled at them, and Rocky's grip on Zuma slipped slightly. He tightened his hold, his arms shaking from the effort. "Hurry!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
Above the rush of the water, Ryder's voice rang out. "Hold on, Rocky! We're coming!"
Chase's cruiser screeched to a halt near the riverbank. Ryder grabbed the winch cable, securing it to his utility belt before diving into the water without hesitation. The current fought against him, but Ryder pushed through, reaching Rocky and Zuma in what felt like an eternity.
"I've got you, Rocky," Ryder said, his voice steady despite the urgency in his eyes. "Let go of the branch—slowly."
Rocky's grip faltered, his strength nearly gone. But Ryder was there, his arms wrapping around both dogs as the winch pulled them toward the bank. The moment they reached solid ground, Marshall was waiting, his medical kit already open.
Marshall checked Zuma's breathing and pulse with practiced precision. "He's breathing fine," he announced, relief evident in his tone. "Heart rate's steady, but we need to get him to the animal hospital for that head injury."
Zuma lay motionless, his chest rising and falling steadily. Rocky collapsed beside him, his legs trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline.
Chase crouched next to him, a rare look of genuine amazement on his face. "Rocky… you're not having a panic attack."
Rocky blinked, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Then, despite himself, he let out a shaky laugh. "Give it a minute."
Chase chuckled, shaking his head. "You were incredible, you know that?"
Rocky didn't respond immediately. His gaze drifted to Zuma, who lay peacefully under Marshall's watchful eye. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah… I guess I was."
The team gathered around as Ryder gave the command. "Let's get Zuma to the hospital."
Together, they loaded their friend into the new truck and headed back toward Adventure Bay. The river, now calm and quiet, faded into the distance behind them.
The warm, muted light of the animal hospital filtered softly through the blinds, casting gentle stripes across the sterile white walls. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor punctuated the otherwise tranquil room. Zuma stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. His deep brown eyes scanned the room with faint confusion before settling on a familiar green-furred figure sitting nearby.
"Dude…?" Zuma's voice was hoarse, but his signature laid-back tone was still there.
Rocky perked up instantly. He had been sitting by Zuma's side for hours, his normally tidy fur slightly disheveled from worry. "Zuma! You're awake!"
Zuma blinked, the events from earlier rushing back in fragmented pieces. His brow furrowed. "What… happened?"
Rocky hesitated, his voice catching in his throat before he managed to speak. "You… you got knocked out by that stupid branch. You fell into the river, and—" He stopped, taking a deep breath. "And I jumped in after you."
Zuma stared at him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Wait… you jumped in? Into the river? Like, raging water and all?"
Rocky nodded, looking almost embarrassed. "Yeah. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Let you float away?"
Zuma's expression shifted from shock to awe. "Dude… you jumped in a raging river—you, Rocky! —to save me?"
Rocky's lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. "I guess that makes us even, huh?"
Zuma's head tilted slightly, his damp fur brushing against the pillow. "Nah, bro. It's more than that. When I saved you… I knew I'd be okay because, well, you know, swimming's kinda my thing, right? But you… that was really brave."
Rocky's ears twitched, and he looked down at his paws, fidgeting slightly. "Well, you've got my back, and I've got yours. That's what it's all about, right?"
Zuma's face softened into a grin, despite the bandage on his head. "Totally."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the day's events hanging in the air but now softened by their exchange.
A knock at the door broke the quiet, and Ryder peeked in, a relieved smile on his face. "Hey, buddy," he said, addressing Zuma. "Good to see you awake."
Zuma chuckled weakly. "Good to be awake."
Ryder walked over, his gaze shifting between the two dogs. "You gave us all a scare today. Thank God Rocky was there."
Rocky's tail wagged slightly, his cheeks warming under Ryder's praise. "I just did what anyone would've done."
Ryder shook his head. "No. You did what you would do, Rocky. And that made all the difference."
Zuma nodded, his grin widening. "You're a hero, bro."
Rocky laughed softly, shaking his head. "Let's not make a big deal out of it, okay?"
Zuma leaned back into his pillow, still smiling. "Too late, dude."
As much as Rocky might object to the extra attention, he knew that Zuma and Ryder were right. Not necessarily about him being a hero (the way Rocky saw it, he was just doing his job), but about it being a big deal.
For Rocky, the river wasn't just water—it was the embodiment of his greatest fear. And today, he had faced it head-on, not for glory, but for someone he cared about.
That was true courage.
Chapter 20: Detective Work
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning sun glimmered through the windows of the Lookout's command room at the top of the tower, its rays streaking across the sleek surfaces of the consoles. Chase sat at the desk, eyes narrowed at the digital map projected before him.
A single location blinked—Adventure City. His mind raced as he pieced together the fragments of information he had uncovered about the now-decommissioned genetics lab. Once run by a Dr. Scotson, it is now a dentist's office.
Three days after the Elegnem disaster, this lab shut down voluntarily. Can't be a coincidence, Chase thought, his jaw tightening.
Behind him, Marshall's voice rang out cheerfully. "Hey, Chase! What's got you looking so serious this morning?"
Chase turned, his expression softening slightly at the sight of his best friend's bright demeanor. "Marshall, I need your help with something," he said, his tone more earnest than usual. "It's… important."
Marshall tilted his head. "Important like 'hold the ladder' or important like 'Ryder's gonna give me the look if I mess up'?"
Chase chuckled lightly. "Somewhere between those. I need a pretext to go to Adventure City, and I was hoping you'd plan another day with Smoke. Invite me along, say I just wanted to tag along for the ride."
Marshall's ears twitched with curiosity. "Adventure City? What's going on there?"
Chase hesitated, his usually steady gaze flickering. "I… I can't tell you everything. Not yet. But I'm investigating something really important, and I need to gather all the facts before I talk to Ryder about it."
Marshall's expression shifted from curiosity to concern. For Chase to keep something from Ryder—something big—was almost unthinkable. But the determination in Chase's voice was enough to convince him.
"Alright," Marshall said, his tone serious now. "If it's that important, I'll help. I'll ask Ryder if we can take a day in Adventure City."
Chase gave a small nod of gratitude. "Thanks, Marshall. This means a lot."
The team gathered outside the Lookout, the sunlight catching the glossy paint of their vehicles lined up on the lawn. Ryder stood at the center, his hands in his pockets, while Chase and Marshall loaded supplies into the cruiser and fire truck.
Skye trotted up to Chase, her gaze warm. "Ready for your big city adventure?" she teased lightly.
Chase smirked. "It's just a routine trip. Nothing to worry about."
But as their eyes met, the playful tone gave way to something deeper. Skye leaned closer, pressing her nose gently to his in their usual affectionate goodbye. It was a small gesture, but it carried a weight only the two of them understood—a silent exchange of support and trust.
The others watched, grinning at the sight. Zuma nudged Rocky. "They're so cute it's almost gross."
Rubble snickered. "Jealous, Zuma?"
Zuma feigned a dramatic sigh. "I just want someone to look at me like that."
Rocky rolled his eyes as the group laughed, lightening the mood. But Chase and Skye were oblivious, their attention solely on each other.
As Chase pulled away, he gave Skye a small, grateful nod. She returned it with a wink. "Stay safe, officer."
"You too, flygirl."
Marshall, already in his fire truck, called out. "Hey, Chase, you coming or what?"
"On my way!" Chase responded, trotting toward his cruiser.
Ryder stepped forward as the engines roared to life. "You two take care out there. And Marshall, keep Chase out of trouble."
Marshall saluted playfully. "Yes, sir!"
With that, the vehicles rolled down the driveway, the rest of the team watching until they disappeared over the hill. Skye lingered for a moment, her gaze following Chase's cruiser, before turning back to the group.
"Alright," Ryder said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get back to our much-deserved day off."
The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Lookout's common area, casting warm golden hues across the room. Ryder sat at the table with a steaming cup of tea, flipping through a folder of paperwork. His usually sharp focus seemed softer, more contemplative, as if his mind was elsewhere.
Skye padded in, her sharp eyes catching the faraway look on Ryder's face. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should interrupt, but curiosity won out.
"Hey, Ryder," she said, hopping onto a stool nearby. "Got a minute?"
Ryder blinked, pulled from his thoughts. "Of course. What's up, Skye?"
She studied him for a moment, her head tilting slightly. "You've seemed… different lately. Reflective. Not that you're not always thoughtful, but it feels like something's shifted."
Ryder leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing. "Different how?"
"Like you've found something… grounding," Skye said, her voice gentle. "And I think it has something to do with the time you've been spending at St. Francis of Assisi."
Ryder's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. "You noticed that?"
She nodded. "It's hard not to. You've been stopping by the church more often. It got me wondering… how does your faith fit into everything we do? All the pressure, the tough decisions, the dangerous situations."
Ryder set his tea down, a thoughtful smile playing on his lips. "That's… a big question."
Skye shrugged lightly. "I'm not going anywhere."
Ryder took a deep breath, leaning forward. "My Catholic faith is… the foundation for everything. It's not just something I do on Sundays—it shapes how I see the world, how I lead, how I make decisions. When we're on missions and things get tough, I try to remember that it's not all on my shoulders. There's a higher power guiding us."
Skye's ears perked, her curiosity deepening. "But how do you stay calm in those moments? Like when things feel impossible?"
Ryder's gaze softened. "That's where prayer comes in. Especially the Rosary."
"The Rosary?" Skye echoed.
He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, worn string of beads. "It's a prayer I turn to when I'm stressed or overwhelmed. Each bead is a prayer, and as I pray, I meditate on the life of Christ and His mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary. It's like… handing over my worries to someone stronger, someone who loves me unconditionally."
Skye studied the beads, her expression thoughtful. "Mary… she's like a mother, isn't she?"
Ryder smiled, his eyes warm. "Exactly. She's a source of comfort and strength, especially in the hardest moments. When I'm struggling, I think about her—how she faced unimaginable pain but stayed faithful and strong. It reminds me that I'm never alone, no matter how tough things get."
Skye looked down, her gaze distant as if turning his words over in her mind. For a moment, she didn't respond.
Ryder gently broke the silence. "I was actually planning to go to weekday Mass at St. Francis later today. Would you like to come along? It's not long, just a chance to reflect and pray."
She hesitated, then glanced up with a small smile. "I'd like that."
Ryder returned her smile, his heart lighter. "Great. I think you'll find it meaningful."
As they sat together, a quiet understanding passed between them. The weight of their responsibilities seemed to ease, replaced by a sense of connection and hope.
Adventure City bustled with its usual energy—cars honking, people chatting, and the faint hum of construction work in the distance. Chase weaved through the crowd with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning for the address he'd written down earlier. It led him to an unassuming brick building with a polished metal sign: Adventure City Family Dentistry.
The automatic doors slid open as Chase stepped inside, the sterile scent of mint and disinfectant washing over him. A friendly-looking receptionist glanced up from her computer, her name tag reading "Lila."
"Hi there!" Lila greeted, her smile widening at the sight of the uniformed German Shepherd. "PAW Patrol, right? What brings you here?"
Chase cleared his throat, keeping his tone professional. "I'm investigating something about the building's history. I understand this used to be a genetics lab?"
Lila's smile faltered, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Oh, yeah. That was before my time, but we've heard stories. They left behind a lot of weird equipment when the dental office took over."
Chase's ears perked. "Weird equipment?"
Lila nodded, gesturing for him to follow her. "Come on. It's still here—no one's figured out what to do with it. We didn't throw it away because… well, it looked expensive. Figured someone might come for it someday."
She led Chase down a hallway to a door marked "Storage." Unlocking it, she pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room filled with machines and tools unlike anything Chase had ever seen.
Rows of polished metal tables stood lined with contraptions bristling with wires, tubes, and ominously sharp instruments. Their sterile, gleaming surfaces seemed out of place in the dusty, unused room. Chase stepped closer, his paw brushing against a machine with a panel of buttons and dials. A faint chill crept up his spine.
"This is all from the lab?" Chase asked, his voice quieter now.
"Yup," Lila replied, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. "Weird stuff, huh? No idea what it's for. It doesn't look like anything you'd use for dental work—or anything I'd want to use, honestly."
Chase nodded, his gaze fixed on the equipment. His instincts kicked in, sending an unshakable sense of unease coursing through him. Though he didn't fully understand what he was looking at, every fiber of his being screamed that these machines had been used for something terrible.
He turned back to Lila. "Thanks for showing me this. I think it might help with my investigation."
"Sure thing," Lila said, her smile returning faintly. "If you find out what all this was for… honestly, I don't want to know. But good luck."
Chase gave her a polite nod and left the office, his mind racing. As he walked down the street, the weight of what he'd seen lingered heavily. He needed more answers.
City Hall wasn't far. Chase made his way inside, the marble lobby bustling with employees and visitors. He approached the records desk, where a bored-looking clerk flipped through a newspaper.
"Excuse me," Chase said, keeping his tone firm but polite. "I need access to records about a former lab here in downtown that's now a dentist's office. It was run by someone named Dr. Scotson."
The clerk barely looked up. "Records like that aren't open to the public."
Chase's ears twitched, and he shifted his weight, adopting a more persuasive tone. "Look, I'm investigating something really important. I'm out of my jurisdiction, and I'm not out to get anyone. I just really need to figure this out. Can you help?"
The clerk sighed, setting the newspaper down. "Fine. Give me a minute."
After a few minutes of typing and rummaging through files, the clerk handed Chase a printed sheet. "Here. Looks like your Dr. Scotson shut down the lab after the Elegnem incident. Says here he's running a veterinary clinic now, about six blocks east."
Chase took the paper, his eyes scanning the address. "Thank you."
As he stepped back onto the bustling streets of Adventure City, Chase felt a chill settle over him. The idea of someone connected to the Elegnems now caring for animals made his stomach turn. But it was a lead—and he was determined to follow it.
The afternoon sun filtered through the towering trees of City Park, casting dappled shadows over the winding brick paths. The gentle hum of city life was muted here, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing by the fountains. Marshall and Smoke strolled side by side, their pace unhurried as they enjoyed the rare moment of calm.
Marshall glanced sideways at Smoke, who seemed completely at ease, her tail swishing lazily behind her. "You know," he started, his voice softer than usual, "I don't think I've ever seen you this chill."
Smoke smirked, shooting him a sidelong glance. "What, I don't seem chill to you?"
"Well…" Marshall hesitated, his paw scuffing the ground. "You're usually a little more, uh… fiery."
Smoke chuckled, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "You're not wrong, Red. But even a fire needs to simmer down sometimes. Besides," she added, tilting her head toward the park's serene scenery, "how could anyone stay wound up in a place like this?"
Marshall nodded, his gaze drifting over the pond where ducks glided effortlessly across the surface. The moment felt peaceful, but a nagging thought refused to leave him alone. He sighed, his brow furrowing slightly.
Smoke noticed immediately. "Alright, what's eating you?"
Marshall hesitated, his paws fidgeting as he searched for the right words. "It's Chase," he admitted finally.
Smoke raised an eyebrow. "Chase? What about him?"
Marshall stopped walking, his eyes fixed on a nearby flowerbed as he tried to put his feelings into words. "He's… he's been really focused on something lately. Like, really focused. He asked me to bring him here today so he could investigate something—he wouldn't tell me what, just that Ryder couldn't know about it yet."
Smoke's ears perked, her expression thoughtful. "Sounds serious."
"It is," Marshall said quickly, his tone almost defensive. "And that's what worries me. Chase is… well, Chase. He's the most reliable dog I know. If he's hiding something from Ryder, it has to be really big."
Smoke studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "He's a serious guy; I'm sure he'll find whatever he's after."
Marshall shook his head, his frown deepening. "That's what I'm worried about. It feels like he's after something that he shouldn't be."
Smoke's smirk softened into something more empathetic. She stepped closer, her voice steady. "You trust him, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Marshall said without hesitation. "It's not about trust—it's about what this thing he's chasing might do to him."
Smoke let out a thoughtful hum, her amber eyes narrowing slightly. "Maybe you're right to be worried. But if anyone can handle something big, it's Chase. You know that better than anyone."
Marshall nodded, but the knot in his chest didn't loosen. "Yeah… I just hope whatever he finds doesn't change him. Or hurt him."
Smoke placed a paw on his shoulder, her usual teasing demeanor replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "Hey. Whatever happens, he's got you watching his back. That's gotta count for something, right?"
Marshall managed a small smile. "Yeah. Thanks, Smoke."
She grinned, giving him a playful nudge as they resumed their walk. "Don't mention it, Red. Now, let's find an ice cream cart before this park gets too wholesome for me."
Marshall laughed despite himself, the weight on his mind easing just a little.
The bell above the veterinary clinic's front door jingled softly as Chase pushed it open, his paws firm against the glass. The air inside smelled of antiseptic and faintly of wet fur—a familiar scent for anyone used to an animal clinic. Chase's sharp eyes darted around the small waiting area, where a few humans sat with their pets, flipping through magazines or scrolling on their phones. The receptionist behind the desk greeted him with a professional smile.
"Good afternoon! Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
Chase's voice was clipped but polite. "I'm here to see Dr. Scotson. It's urgent."
The receptionist hesitated, glancing at the small calendar on her desk. "Dr. Scotson's appointments are fully booked today. Can I schedule you for—"
Chase leaned closer, his badge glinting slightly in the light. "It's not that kind of visit. Please, just tell him Chase is here, and it's about his old lab."
The receptionist's polite demeanor faltered, her expression flickering between confusion and unease. "His old… lab? I—" She cut herself off, clearly uncertain how to proceed. "Let me check with him. Please wait here."
Chase nodded once, stepping back as she disappeared down a hallway. His ears twitched as he scanned the room, noting the curious stares of the other patrons. He ignored them, his thoughts already racing ahead to what he might uncover.
After a tense moment, the receptionist returned, her face pale. "Dr. Scotson will see you in his office. Right this way."
She led Chase through a narrow corridor, past exam rooms filled with barking dogs and meowing cats. At the end of the hall was a door with a brass nameplate: Dr. M. Scotson, DVM. The receptionist opened it and stepped aside, motioning for Chase to enter.
Dr. Scotson was seated behind a cluttered desk, his hands folded tightly together. He was a middle-aged man with thinning hair and tired eyes, his expression a mix of resignation and dread. He didn't bother with pleasantries as Chase entered the room.
"I knew they'd find me one day," Scotson said quietly, his voice strained. "I shut down that lab and tried to turn a new leaf… but I knew."
Chase closed the door behind him, his posture tense but controlled. "I don't have jurisdiction here, so just tell me what happened in your lab."
Scotson's eyes darted to the desk as if searching for an escape that didn't exist. "I swear, all I did was fill orders for artificial insemination. I shipped the embryos off to the lab in Adventure Bay. The… Elegnems." He spat the name as if it tasted bitter.
Chase's gaze sharpened. "Do you know what was going on there?"
Scotson hesitated, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. "I swear, I had no idea. The minute I found out what they were doing… I called the feds. They agreed to let me go if I kept my business with them until the raid was planned, then shut down my lab after."
Chase stepped closer, his tone firm. "Someone tipped them off. The dogs they were experimenting on were euthanized days before the raid was supposed to go down."
Scotson's face went white, his voice trembling. "No, you've got it wrong. They killed the dogs because… because they had gotten smart enough to start fighting back."
Chase froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Fighting back?"
Scotson nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "One of them escaped. Came to me after reading my name off one of the crates I shipped over there. Told me everything." His hands trembled as he spoke. "That's when I called the feds."
Chase was speechless, the weight of Scotson's words sinking like a stone in his chest. His mind reeled with questions, but before he could speak, Scotson's voice broke through the silence.
"And I kept that dog."
Chase's ears perked, his eyes narrowing. "You… kept him?"
Scotson nodded, his expression haunted. "He's… he's still with me. At home."
Chase stared at the man, his thoughts racing. For the first time, the layers of the Elegnem mystery seemed to peel back, exposing something even darker than he had imagined.
The sun hung high over Adventure City, the heat softened by a light breeze that carried the smell of freshly cut grass and distant food carts. Marshall and Smoke wandered side by side along the bustling city park paths, their steps light and easy. The vibrant hum of the city melted into the background as they explored the attractions together.
Their first stop was a set of agility courses set up for local pets. Marshall and Smoke couldn't resist joining in, zipping through tunnels, leaping over hurdles, and weaving through poles. Smoke's natural confidence gave her the edge, but Marshall's unintentional clumsiness won over the crowd, earning him cheers every time he stumbled yet persevered.
"Not bad, Red," Smoke teased as they finished, her amber eyes glinting. "You might've actually beat me if you didn't trip over that last hurdle."
Marshall grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well, I gotta keep you humble somehow."
Next, they came across a photo booth near the fountain. Marshall hesitated, unsure about the idea, but Smoke tugged him inside before he could protest. The two posed with exaggerated faces, sticking their tongues out, ears flopping, and laughing as the camera flashed. By the time they emerged, Marshall had a strip of pictures clutched in his paw, and Smoke wore a satisfied smirk.
"For the fridge," Smoke said with a wink.
The highlight of their day came at a nearby splash pad. Children squealed and danced through the streams of water, and Marshall couldn't resist joining in, darting between the fountains with his tail wagging furiously. Smoke stayed at the edge, watching with an amused grin until Marshall dared her to join.
"Come on, scaredy-cat! Thought you were the tough one here!"
Smoke raised an eyebrow, then smirked as she charged in, catching Marshall off guard by shaking water onto him in retaliation.
"Who's scared now?" she shot back, her laugh ringing out like the splash of water.
By early afternoon, the two found a quiet spot under a shady oak tree, where Smoke unveiled a picnic basket she had somehow smuggled along. Inside were neatly wrapped sandwiches, an assortment of snacks, and two sparkling water bottles.
Marshall blinked in surprise. "You planned this?"
Smoke shrugged, her tail flicking nonchalantly. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."
They settled into an easy rhythm, enjoying their meal while the world bustled around them. For a while, neither spoke, simply relishing the calm moment together.
Finally, Smoke broke the silence. "You know, you're a lot more fun than I thought when we first met."
Marshall chuckled. "And you're a lot less scary than I thought when we first met."
Smoke tilted her head, pretending to be offended. "Scary?"
"Well, you do have that whole 'tough, no-nonsense fire dog' thing going on," Marshall said, grinning. "But it turns out you're just a big softy."
Smoke rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. "Maybe. But don't tell anyone—I've got a reputation to keep."
Marshall wagged his tail. "Your secret's safe with me."
For a moment, the two simply sat there, the breeze rustling the leaves above them. Smoke's usual teasing demeanor softened as she glanced at Marshall.
"Thanks for today," she said quietly. "I needed this."
Marshall looked at her, his usual playful grin giving way to something more sincere. "Me too."
Their eyes met, a quiet understanding passing between them. In that moment, the chaos of their day—and their lives—faded into the background, leaving only the gentle warmth of each other's company.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the quiet neighborhood as Chase exited the veterinary clinic. Dr. Scotson followed him, pausing at the door to lock up. Chase's mind was swirling with unanswered questions, but Scotson's weary demeanor gave him pause.
"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" Scotson said, his voice tinged with resignation.
Chase shook his head. "Not until I have the answers I'm looking for."
Scotson sighed, pocketing his keys. "Then come with me. There's someone you should meet."
Chase tilted his head. "Someone?"
Scotson gave him a look that carried the weight of unspoken truths. "Follow me home. You'll see."
The drive to Scotson's house was uneventful but heavy with anticipation. When they arrived, Scotson led Chase inside, his home modest but lived-in. The faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, and Chase's ears perked at the sound of claws clicking on the hardwood floor.
"He's in here," Scotson said, gesturing toward the living room.
A large Doberman stepped into view, his sleek coat streaked with silver, eyes sharp and wary. He stopped a few feet from Chase, sizing him up.
"This is Kam," Scotson said. "He escaped the Elegnems. Kam, this is Chase. He's investigating our old friends."
The Doberman's voice was deep, gruff. "I've seen you on TV… Yeah, I escaped. A few of us did. Nine? Ten? I don't know."
Chase approached cautiously, his heart pounding. "I'm glad you did… I'm afraid to ask, but—"
Kam's ears flattened, and he growled softly. "I'm not gonna talk about what they did to us."
"Fine," Chase said quickly, holding up a paw. "That's fine. But do you know anything about the accident?"
Kam's expression darkened. He sat back on his haunches, his gaze distant. "Accident? There was no accident. They bred some of us to be smart, and some to be vicious. Some of the vicious ones said they were gonna destroy the place… the smart ones, we helped them plan it out, and when they put the plan in action, we escaped in the chaos."
Chase felt a chill run down his spine. "But so many were euthanized—how did they destroy the place?"
Kam's eyes met Chase's, unflinching and cold. "We showed them how to turn the generator in the basement into a time bomb."
Scotson's face paled. "You never told me that."
Kam turned to him, his tone biting. "You never asked."
Chase swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. "Listen, I'm trying to get to the bottom of what exactly the Elegnems were up to—what their ultimate goal was with their… research. Do you know of any of their colleagues I can track down?"
Kam let out a low, humorless chuckle. "I don't know, kid. This might not be a road you're prepared to go down."
"I am," Chase said firmly. "If you know something, tell me."
The Doberman tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "There was a lab upstate. I overheard the docs talking about it many times. The 'Master Site,' they called it. The feds never could figure out exactly where it was—it's hard country up there. But that was the big one. However many labs there were, it all went through there. An agent from the Master Site came by every month to see the results and…"
Kam hesitated, his eyes narrowing.
"And… what?" Chase prompted.
Kam sighed, his voice quieter now. "One time, when that agent came by, he had the docs' kid with him."
Chase felt his stomach drop, the pieces of the puzzle rearranging themselves in his mind.
"The agent was pretty upset that I saw him with the kid," Kam continued, "but the docs were… testing me, and it ran over time because my results were 'sooo intriguing.' It was a week before the escape."
Scotson's voice was hushed. "They sent their kid to that lab, Chase."
Chase's voice was barely above a whisper. "Is the lab still running?"
Kam's expression hardened. "Probably. These people didn't just play God, they believed they were God. There's no way they would've stopped unless they were forcibly shut down… Scotson wasn't one of them."
Chase's jaw tightened. "Do you know any people who worked at the Master Site?"
Kam was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. "I picked up a name once… a guy who I think tried to leave the lab. The docs were just casually talking, and I overheard them. 'Sure is a shame what happened to Dobbs,' they said."
Scotson straightened in his chair. "Shane Dobbs? I knew him! He was one of my assistants at my lab before the Master Site recruited him…"
Before Chase could say anything, Kam interjected. "Don't bother tracking him down. He was found face-down in a swamp after he stupidly tried to blackmail the Master Site."
Chase bristled, his paws clenching. "They killed him?"
Kam's gaze was steady. "Well… now I have a name of someone who worked at the Master Site," Chase said, his voice resolute. "And that's a lead I can follow."
The quiet stillness of St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church wrapped around Ryder and Skye as they entered the sanctuary. The absence of music made the soft murmur of prayers and the rustle of missalettes all the more poignant. Skye looked up at the soaring vaulted ceilings, her gaze lingering on the intricate stained glass that seemed to glow with its own inner light.
Ryder led her to a pew near the middle of the church, genuflecting before sliding into the seat. Skye mimicked his gesture, glancing at the golden tabernacle flanked by statues of kneeling angels. A sense of peace settled over her as they knelt together in silence, Ryder's lips moving faintly as he prayed an Our Father.
The weekday Mass began simply. The priest, Father Chris, welcomed the small congregation, and the first reading began. Skye listened intently, though her focus occasionally drifted to Ryder, who followed along with quiet reverence. When the homily came, Father Chris spoke about trusting in God during times of uncertainty, his gentle voice filling the sacred space.
As the Liturgy of the Eucharist began, Ryder turned to Skye and whispered softly, "When it's time for Communion, come with me. Father Chris can give you a blessing."
Skye hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Ryder nodded. "Absolutely."
When the moment came, Ryder led the way to the Communion procession, his movements deliberate and full of purpose. Skye followed, curious but reverent. As Ryder knelt and received the Eucharist, she marveled at the look of serene devotion on his face. Then it was her turn to approach.
Father Chris's warm eyes met hers as she approached. The priest smiled gently and raised his hand, making the Sign of the Cross over her. "The Lord bless you and keep you," he said softly.
Skye felt a warmth she couldn't quite explain, a sense of being seen and understood in a way she hadn't expected. She returned to the pew with Ryder, her heart full.
After Mass, the two walked back to the Lookout together, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the path.
"Thank you for coming with me," Ryder said, breaking the comfortable silence. "Not quite the same as Midnight Mass or the Easter Vigil, huh?"
"No, those were beautiful, I liked the simplicity. And I think I get it now," Skye replied, her voice thoughtful. "Your faith… it's what keeps you steady, isn't it? Even when things get hard."
Ryder nodded. "Yeah. It's not always easy, but it helps me remember I'm not in this alone. And… there's comfort in knowing there's a greater plan, even when I don't understand it."
Skye looked up at him, a soft smile on her face. "I think I needed to hear that."
Ryder returned the smile, and they walked the rest of the way in companionable silence.
The fire station was bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun as Chase pulled up to the curb. Marshall and Smoke were already waiting outside, their laughter carrying across the street. Smoke's tail swayed lazily as she leaned against the fire station sign, her eyes gleaming mischievously.
"Hey, there he is!" Marshall called, bounding over. "How'd it go?"
Chase gave a small smile, his expression tinged with the weight of the day. "I got what I needed."
Smoke stepped forward, her usual mischievous glint softening just slightly. "Look, Chase. Whatever you're up to—and I don't need the details—just know this guy's got your back." She gestured toward Marshall, who looked a little startled but grinned shyly. "And you're lucky, because I'd say he's the best you could ask for."
Chase nodded, his gaze steady. "I know. That's why he's my best friend."
Marshall's ears perked up, and he gave Chase a playful nudge. "Aw, come on, Chase. You're gonna make me cry."
The three laughed, the day's tension easing into a moment of lightheartedness. Chase glanced toward the truck. "Ready to head out?"
Marshall nodded. "Yep, let's roll."
As Chase turned toward the vehicles, Smoke stepped in front of Marshall, her amber eyes locking onto his with a spark that made his paws freeze mid-step. "Not so fast, Fireboy," she said, her voice dropping into a sultry tease. "You gonna leave without saying goodbye properly?"
Marshall's ears burned bright red as Smoke leaned closer, brushing her nose playfully against his cheek. "Don't let me miss you too much, okay?" she murmured, her tone full of suggestive warmth.
Marshall, flustered but determined not to let the moment get away, managed to stammer back, "W-well, maybe I'll make you miss me on purpose."
Smoke smirked, clearly impressed by his attempt to keep up. "Careful, Hotshot. I might just have to come to Adventure Bay if I get to missin' you bad enough."
Marshall's jaw dropped, his brain scrambling for a response, but Smoke flicked his nose with her tail and turned, her laugh carrying through the warm evening air.
Chase, who had paused mid-stride to witness the exchange, stared at Marshall as they climbed into their vehicles. "Did that just happen?"
Marshall sank into his seat, still red-faced but grinning like he'd just won a game of poker. "Yup. And I crushed it."
Chase snorted, shaking his head as they pulled away. "You're ridiculous."
Smoke waved them off with a playful grin. "See you soon, Marshall!" she called, her voice carrying just enough to make him blush all over again.
Notes:
Next is the Season 2 Finale…
Chapter 21: The Answers (Season Finale)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Adventure Bay Courthouse loomed tall in the golden light of late afternoon, its imposing stone steps bustling with reporters and onlookers eager for a glimpse of justice being served. Inside, the atmosphere was hushed, charged with anticipation as the courtroom filled with spectators.
The PAW Patrol occupied a small bench near the back, their collective presence a quiet but powerful show of solidarity. Ryder sat in the middle, flanked by Rocky and Chase. Skye and Zuma sat side by side, their postures a mirror of concern and support. Marshall and Rubble completed the row, their usual lighthearted energy subdued by the gravity of the occasion.
Rocky stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His paw rested lightly on the polished wood of the bench, the only sign of his tension the faint tap of his claws against the surface.
The judge's gavel fell with a sharp crack, silencing the murmurs in the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the judge began, her voice steady, "after careful consideration of the evidence and the testimony presented, the jury has reached a unanimous decision." She turned her gaze to the defendant, her expression stern. "Martin Cassio, you have been found guilty of murder in the first degree."
A murmur rippled through the room, but it quickly subsided as the judge continued.
"Considering the severity of your crimes and your complete lack of remorse, this court sentences you to life in prison without the possibility of parole."
The words hung in the air, final and unyielding.
From the defense table, Cassio's face twisted into a mask of anger and defiance. His eyes found Rocky across the room, narrowing in a glare so sharp it could have cut glass.
Rocky met his gaze, unflinching. His claws stilled against the bench, and a quiet resolve settled over his features.
The judge's voice broke the silent exchange. "Bailiff, take the defendant into custody."
As Cassio was led away, his chains clinking softly with each step, the tension in the room seemed to ease. The crowd began to disperse, and the PAW Patrol stood, filing out into the fresh evening air.
Outside, Rocky paused at the top of the courthouse steps, taking a deep breath as if trying to inhale the finality of it all. Ryder placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It's over," Ryder said softly.
Rocky nodded, his voice steady but quiet. "Yeah… it is."
The team gathered around him, their presence a wall of unwavering support.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Rocky allowed himself to truly believe it.
The evening air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of saltwater from the nearby bay. The Lookout stood quiet under the deepening twilight, its silhouette outlined against the fading hues of orange and purple. Inside, Rocky laid down in his workshop, a small lamp casting a warm glow over his makeshift reading corner. His book lay open on the floor in front of him, and he smiled faintly as his eyes scanned the text.
At the door, Raine hesitated. She wasn't used to this—checking in, offering comfort—but something told her Rocky might need it tonight. Taking a breath, she stepped inside.
"What's up, Rocky?"
Rocky looked up, his ears perking at the sound of her voice. He quickly set the book aside and grinned. "Hey, Raine. Just taking a breather. Nothing like a good book to unwind after a long day."
Raine leaned against the doorframe, her sharp eyes catching the title. "Whatcha readin'?"
"Beauty and Sadness: Mahler's 11 Symphonies by David Vernon," Rocky replied, holding up the cover for her to see. His grin widened as he added, "It's about—"
"Mahler's 11 symphonies?" Raine interrupted, smirking.
Rocky laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I know—some would say there are only ten. It's poetic, okay? What's going on with you?"
Raine shrugged, stepping further into the room. "Well, I just thought I'd come check up on you. I know the past can be a hard thing to face, so…"
Rocky leaned back in his seat, his smile softening. "I'm okay. It's been rough, but now… he's put away. It's over."
For a moment, Raine said nothing, her expression unreadable. Then she returned his smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm glad."
Rocky tilted his head, sensing something beneath her words. "What's wrong?"
Raine shook her head quickly, brushing it off. "It's nothing."
"Raine," Rocky pressed, his voice gentle but firm, "what's the matter?"
She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor as her shoulders tensed. "…Rocky, I'm glad you got a resolution and can move on. Everybody doesn't get to experience that, that's all."
The room fell silent. Rocky frowned slightly, his brows furrowing in thought, but before he could respond, Raine straightened and forced a casual tone.
"Anyway, it's good to know you're okay," she said briskly. "Joseph's been worried about you."
Rocky's smirk returned, lightening the mood. "Oh, Joseph was worried, huh?"
Raine laughed, rolling her eyes as she swatted him lightly with her paw. "Shut up, Rocky."
She turned to leave, but as she stepped outside, she paused. The sky stretched wide and clear above her, stars beginning to peek through the darkening canvas. She stared up for a moment, her expression softening.
Maybe one day, she thought, I'll have the courage to face my past, too. For now… this is enough.
With a small sigh, Raine walked away, her pawsteps fading into the evening.
It was the next day; the sun was high, casting golden rays across the sparkling waters near Adventure Bay's lighthouse. The light danced on the gentle waves, creating a serene backdrop for Joseph and Katie's quiet walk along the path. The late morning breeze carried the faint aroma of salt and wildflowers, making the day feel just shy of perfect.
Joseph kept his hands in his pockets, his usual confident yet easy demeanor on display. Katie walked beside him, her step lighter than usual, as though the warmth of the day mirrored her own feelings.
Suddenly, Katie stopped, her gaze lingering on the lighthouse ahead. Joseph noticed her pause and turned to face her, curiosity softening his expression.
"What?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Katie shook her head lightly, a wistful smile appearing. "Just thinking about how we met. Remember?"
Joseph's face brightened at the memory. "Of course I remember. It was a fundraiser for the animal shelter. You were passing out information pamphlets—"
"And you were providing light cocktail music," Katie finished for him, her smile widening.
Joseph chuckled. "I looked up from the piano after I finished In a Sentimental Mood, and there you were. A person you were talking to moved out of the way at the exact perfect time for our eyes to meet."
Katie's cheeks flushed slightly. "We locked eyes for a second, then you looked down and started playing Can't Help Falling in Love."
Joseph grinned, his tone turning slightly bashful. "Well, you came over to talk to me after your shift was over. I couldn't believe my luck."
"You didn't waste any time asking me out," Katie teased, her laugh warm and gentle.
Joseph shrugged playfully. "I was afraid I only had one chance! How often do a pet groomer and a church organist end up in the same place?"
"Probably never, unless the organist is also a jazz pianist," Katie quipped, nudging him lightly with her elbow.
They continued their walk, the lighthouse growing closer. The path curved slightly, giving them an unobstructed view of the bay. As they reached the base of the lighthouse, Joseph slowed and stopped, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Katie," he began softly, "what do you think the future holds?"
Katie blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Well… no one really knows, do they?" She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground before meeting his. "I'd like to expand my business, help even more pets… but I have to say, it's hard to imagine doing any of that without you in my life."
Joseph turned to her fully, his expression tender. "I was hoping you'd pick up my drift."
They both laughed quietly, their shared joy mingling with the gentle sound of the waves.
Joseph's voice turned more serious, though still soft. "Look, I don't want to put any pressure on you—on us—right now. But I want you to know… wherever our lives go, I hope we'll be facing it together."
Katie's eyes grew misty, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his words. "Me too, Joseph. I love you."
"I love you too," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion.
As the moment lingered, their eyes met again, and Joseph leaned in. Katie closed the small distance between them, their kiss sweet and filled with unspoken promises. The lighthouse stood sentinel above them, the sea bearing silent witness to their bond.
Later that afternoon, Katie stood behind the counter at her pet salon, carefully organizing bottles of shampoo and conditioner. The light streaming through the large windows gave the room a warm glow, making it feel as inviting as ever. Skye sauntered in, shaking her fur playfully, ready for her regular grooming session.
"Hey, Katie!" Skye chirped, hopping up onto the grooming table. "Got time to make me look fabulous?"
"Always," Katie replied with a grin, reaching for her brush. As she started working on Skye's fur, her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Joseph at the lighthouse. She hesitated for a moment before breaking the silence. "Skye… can I tell you something?"
"Of course!" Skye replied, her ears perking up. "What's on your mind?"
Katie sighed dreamily, her brush pausing mid-stroke. "Today, Joseph and I went for a walk near the lighthouse, and he asked me about… the future."
Skye gasped, her eyes widening. "Oh my goodness, Katie! A Catholic guy talking about 'the future'? He totally wants to propose to you!"
Katie laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "I know!"
The two shared an excited squeal, Skye's tail wagging as Katie resumed brushing.
"So, are you ready for that?" Skye asked, her tone more thoughtful now.
Katie nodded slowly, her smile softening. "Honestly… I know we haven't been together for a long time, but I'm more ready than I can even express. It just feels right."
Skye smiled warmly, her own heart swelling with happiness for her friend. "Hey, I guess if you know, you just know. I'm so happy for you, Katie."
"Thanks, Skye," Katie said, her voice full of gratitude. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "Now…"
Skye groaned playfully. "Don't start—it hasn't come up with Chase. We have things we're working through right now."
Katie's smile faded slightly, concern replacing her teasing tone. "Oh… you two okay?"
Skye nodded quickly. "Yeah, we're fine. It's not about our relationship, it's a case Chase is working on. Sorry, I really can't talk about it."
Katie studied her for a moment before offering a reassuring smile. "Well, I'm here if you need to talk. About anything."
Skye's smile returned, and she wagged her tail. "Thanks, Katie. Now, let's get me looking amazing—a girl's gotta keep her game strong."
Katie laughed, grabbing her scissors. "You're already amazing, Skye. But let's make sure Chase remembers it."
The two laughed together, the salon filled with warmth and friendship as Katie continued her work.
The sun rose over the Lookout, bathing the tower in warm light and filling the base with the cheerful hum of a new day. The team was already bustling with activity, prepping vehicles and running drills, but there was an air of excitement in the air—a shared secret that Rubble hadn't yet noticed.
"Rubble," Ryder called, stepping out of his office. "Could you come to the briefing room for a minute?"
Rubble glanced up from his breakfast—a half-eaten bagel balanced precariously on his paw. "Sure thing, Ryder!" he said, hopping to his feet and trotting toward the room.
As Rubble entered, he was greeted by Ryder's warm smile—and a surprise. On the briefing table sat a small but polished trophy, glinting under the room's lights. The inscription on its base was just barely visible:
RUBBLE
BUILDER, PROTECTOR, FRIEND
Rubble blinked. "Uh… what's going on?"
Ryder knelt down to his level, placing a hand gently on Rubble's shoulder. "Rubble, today marks one year since you joined the PAW Patrol. I wanted to take a moment to celebrate how much you've grown—and to tell you how proud I am of you."
Rubble's ears perked up as Ryder continued, his voice brimming with sincerity. "I still remember the day you showed up. You were this scrappy little bulldog with big dreams and an even bigger appetite."
The rest of the team had quietly gathered behind them. Skye was the first to chuckle. "Some things never change."
Ryder grinned but pressed on. "But over the past year, Rubble, you've proven time and time again just how strong, dependable, and kind-hearted you are. Like the time you fixed Farmer Yumi's barn roof in record time. Or, more recently, when you led the effort to dig that canal to stop the farm from flooding."
Rubble's tail wagged tentatively, his cheeks warming. "I mean, it was a team effort…"
"And you're a big part of that team," Ryder said.
Before Rubble could respond, Skye stepped forward. "You're always the first one to jump in when we need some muscle," she said, her eyes sparkling.
"And you've got a knack for fixing stuff in the middle of nowhere," Rocky added. "You saved us so many times this year."
Marshall piped up, a grin spreading across his face. "Plus, you're the funniest one here! I can always count on you to cheer me up—even in the middle of a mission."
"And you've earned every bit of respect we've got for you," Chase said firmly. "You're loyal, you're dependable, and you've got the biggest heart on the team."
Zuma wagged his tail, adding with a playful smirk, "And let's not forget the snacks! Dude, your stash of corndogs is legendary."
"Let's not try to count how many corndogs Rubble's eaten this year," Ryder teased, prompting a wave of laughter.
Rubble was visibly moved, his ears drooping as he tried—and failed—to keep his emotions in check. "Aw, man… I don't even know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," Ryder said softly. "Just know that we're grateful to have you on the team."
With that, Ryder picked up the trophy and handed it to Rubble. "This is for you, Rubble. Builder, protector, and most of all—our friend."
Rubble stared at the inscription, his tail wagging furiously. "This is going straight to my doghouse!" he said, sniffling as the team burst into cheers.
Before he could say more, the team closed in, wrapping him in a group hug. Rubble found himself at the center of their affection, his small but mighty presence radiating joy.
"Thanks, everyone," Rubble said, his voice thick with emotion. "You guys really are the best."
The summer sun cast a golden glow over Adventure Bay as Zuma and Rocky strolled leisurely down Main Street. The air was warm but pleasant, filled with the scent of fresh baked goods wafting from Mr. Porter's café. Townsfolk waved as the two dogs trotted past, tails wagging in unison.
"This is the life, dude," Zuma said, taking a deep breath. "Sunshine, good vibes, and no missions today. Just chillin'."
Rocky nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I could get used to this. No fixing broken gadgets or rescuing runaway chickens for a change."
As they ambled along, something—or rather, someone—caught Zuma's eye. On the opposite side of the street, a Shetland Sheepdog walked gracefully, her coat shimmering in the sunlight like a polished sable gem. Her pricked ears and confident stride turned heads, and her presence seemed to exude an air of quiet sophistication.
Zuma froze mid-step, his amber eyes wide. "Whoa… who is that?"
Rocky followed his gaze. "A Shetland Sheepdog. Wow, she's beautiful."
Zuma tilted his head, captivated. "Dude, I gotta talk to her."
Rocky chuckled. "Go for it, man. Can't wait to see how this goes."
Without hesitation, Zuma bounded across the street, his tail wagging like a propeller. He approached with his signature easygoing grin, his steps light and full of energy.
"Hey there!" Zuma began, his voice friendly and warm. "I don't think we've met—I'm Zuma. And you are…?"
The Sheltie turned to him, her deep brown eyes assessing him with polite curiosity. She gave a faint smile, her expression composed yet slightly amused. "Lia. Nice to meet you, Zuma."
Zuma's grin widened. "Lia. Pretty name for a pretty Sheltie."
Lia chuckled softly, her poise unshaken, flattered as she was. "Thanks, but I really can't stay. My owner's waiting for me at the café."
"No problem," Zuma said, quick to respond. "I'll just walk you there. Wouldn't want you to get lonely!"
Lia raised an elegant brow, her smile turning playful. "You're sweet, Zoomie. But I think I can handle the two blocks… thanks for saying hi—hope I see ya around."
Before Zuma could reply, Lia turned with an air of casual grace, her fluffy tail swishing behind her as she walked away with her head held high. There was a subtle sass in her step, a confident flourish that made her exit unforgettable.
Zuma stood there for a moment, watching her go. His head tilted slightly, a dreamy grin spreading across his face. Rocky rejoined him, shaking his head in amusement.
"Now that," Zuma said, his tone reverent, "is a worthy pursuit."
Rocky snorted. "Out of your league much?"
"No such thing, bro," Zuma replied with a wink. "You'll see."
Rocky groaned. "Well, good luck, Romeo."
With a carefree laugh, Zuma turned and continued down Main Street, already scheming about how he'd make Lia's acquaintance again.
The sun hung low over Adventure Bay, casting long shadows across the hills as Chase paced in the Lookout courtyard. His communicator buzzed, breaking the stillness.
"Lieutenant Alvarez," Chase greeted, his tone serious but steady.
"Chase," came the familiar voice, now carrying the weight of her rank. "I've got what you were asking for. Shane Dobbs's widow—she's still on the other side of Adventure Bay. I'm sending you the address now."
Chase's ears pricked up. His pulse quickened as he glanced at Skye, who was sitting nearby. Her curiosity sharpened at the shift in his demeanor.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," Chase said, his voice firm. "I'll handle it."
"Be careful," Alvarez warned. "You're chasing dangerous ghosts, Chase. Make sure they don't catch you first."
As the call ended, Chase felt the adrenaline hit, surging through him like an electric current. This might be the break he'd been chasing for months.
"You're coming, right?" he asked Skye, his words clipped with urgency.
Skye stood immediately, her tail wagging. "Like I'd let you go alone."
The widow's house was modest and weathered, tucked along a quiet street. Its neat flowerbeds stood as a testament to the care of its occupant, but the air around the place felt heavy, haunted.
Chase's paws crunched on the gravel path as he approached the door, Skye at his side. They exchanged a glance before he reached up and knocked.
After a long pause, the door creaked open. A middle-aged woman peered out, her eyes lined with the weight of sleepless nights. She studied Chase and Skye, her gaze softening as she recognized their uniforms.
"You're with the PAW Patrol," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "What brings you here?"
Chase stepped forward, trying to balance confidence with sensitivity. "Mrs. Dobbs, I'm investigating something your late husband was involved in. I was hoping you might be able to help."
Her brow furrowed, but after a moment of hesitation, she opened the door wider. "Come in."
The air inside carried the scent of lavender and old wood. She gestured toward the living room, where Chase and Skye took seats on a worn couch. Mrs. Dobbs sat across from them, her hands tightly folded in her lap.
"I don't know much," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Shane kept me out of it. Said it was better that way." She paused, glancing toward a framed photo on the mantel. "But I do remember him mentioning a colleague—Edward Foyer. They used to take trips upstate together."
Chase's heart pounded in his chest. "Dr. Foyer," he repeated. The name buzzed in his mind, lighting up like a signal flare. "Do you know if he's still in Adventure Bay?"
Mrs. Dobbs nodded slowly. "Last I heard, he was. Still practicing as a scientist, I think. Lives in the upscale part of town."
Chase's breathing quickened, but he forced himself to stay composed. "Thank you. This is… exactly what I needed to know."
As they rose to leave, Mrs. Dobbs's voice stopped them. "He was a good man," she said softly. "He didn't know what he was getting into—not the extent of it, at first. The guilt… the guilt ate at him every day."
Chase turned back, his adrenaline tempered by a pang of empathy. "I'm sorry for what he went through," he said gently.
She nodded, her eyes distant. "Just… be careful."
Back at the Lookout, the evening air was warm and still. Chase and Skye stepped through the automatic doors, their minds racing with the weight of what they'd learned. They were almost to the briefing room when Marshall intercepted them, his usual cheer nowhere to be seen.
"Where have you two been?" he asked, his voice tight with hurt. "What's going on, Chase? Why are you keeping secrets from us—keeping secrets from me?"
Chase froze. The accusation in Marshall's tone cut deeper than he expected. He glanced at Skye, who gave him a small nod before stepping aside to give them privacy.
Chase motioned for Marshall to follow him into the workshop. Once the door slid shut, Marshall crossed his paws, his eyes narrowing. "So?" he pressed. "What's this big mystery you're chasing?"
Chase hesitated, then let out a slow breath. "Marshall… I didn't want to shut you out. This isn't just some random case. It's about Ryder. About what happened to his parents."
Marshall's eyes widened, his expression shifting from anger to shock. "Ryder? What are you talking about?"
Chase sat down, the weight of his secret finally pressing him to speak. "I've been looking into their research, the labs they worked with. I've found people who are still… doing the same things they did. I didn't want to involve anyone else until I knew more."
Marshall's ears drooped. "Chase… Why didn't you tell me? You're my best friend."
Chase looked up, his composure faltering. "Because it's dangerous, Marshall."
Marshall placed a paw on Chase's shoulder, his voice firm. "I can take care of myself. And I'm not letting you do this without backup. Whatever this is, I'm in."
"Alright," Chase took a deep breath. "Then, listen up…"
The sun had long set as Chase, Skye, and Marshall crept through the quiet streets of Adventure Bay's wealthiest neighborhood. The homes were grand and imposing, each with its own distinct air of authority. Among them stood the sprawling estate of Dr. Edward Foyer, a man who had once worked alongside Ryder's parents and might lead them to the Master Site.
"Man, this guy's place looks like something out of a spy movie," Marshall whispered, staring up at the towering iron gates and the vast grounds beyond.
"It's intimidating on purpose," Chase replied. "The kind of place you don't walk up to unless you're invited. Which is why we're not walking up and ringing his doorbell."
Skye smirked. "Subtle is the name of the game tonight, boys."
The three circled to the back of the estate as darkness fell. The garden was immaculate, every shrub and flowerbed perfectly trimmed. Chase's sharp eyes scanned the area until they spotted a slightly ajar window on the ground floor.
"There's our way in," he murmured.
Marshall hesitated. "Are we sure about this? I mean, we're trespassing…"
"We're gathering evidence," Chase corrected. "And we're out of time. If Foyer's connected to the Master Site, we need to know now."
Skye gave Marshall a reassuring nudge. "We've got this. Just follow Chase's lead."
Marshall sighed, nodded, and gave Chase a boost up to the window. Chase landed silently on the polished hardwood floor, his tail low and ears alert. Skye and Marshall followed, their steps careful and deliberate.
The interior of the house was as cold and clinical as Chase had imagined. Stark white walls, sharp angles, and an unnerving absence of anything personal. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, and every surface gleamed with an unsettling sterility.
"This guy really doesn't want anyone getting comfortable," Marshall muttered.
"Focus," Chase whispered, leading them down a long, narrow hallway toward what he guessed was the study. The quiet was oppressive, broken only by the soft creak of the floor beneath their paws.
The study was a reflection of its owner: precise, calculated, and devoid of warmth. A massive desk dominated the room, flanked by shelves lined with scientific journals and neatly arranged folders.
"Start looking," Chase instructed. "We don't have much time."
They moved quickly, scanning drawers and shelves, careful not to disturb anything that might give away their presence. Skye's keen eyes caught a faint groove on the floor beneath one of the bookshelves. She pressed it lightly, and with a soft click, the shelf swung open to reveal a hidden compartment.
"Chase," she called softly.
He joined her in an instant, his heart pounding as he reached into the concealed space. Inside was a sleek, black hard drive. Chase's paw trembled as he held it up, the weight of its significance hitting him.
"This is it," he whispered.
Before they could move, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway.
"Someone's here," Skye hissed.
"Go," Chase ordered, tucking the drive into his vest. "Now!"
The footsteps grew louder as they bolted from the study, their paws silent against the floor. They had almost reached the window when a commanding voice boomed behind them.
"Stop right there!"
They turned to see Dr. Foyer, his tall frame silhouetted against the dim hallway light. His expression was a mixture of fury and disbelief.
"You have no idea who you're messing with," he growled, lunging forward.
Marshall hesitated a second too long, and Foyer's hand clamped around his collar, dragging him back. "Got you now," Foyer sneered.
"Let him go!" Chase barked, his voice sharp and commanding. When Foyer didn't, Chase acted without hesitation. He launched himself at Foyer, biting down hard on the man's leg.
Foyer howled in pain, releasing Marshall, who scrambled free. Skye helped pull Marshall toward the window as Chase followed, his teeth bared in warning.
"Go!" Chase urged, leaping through the window after them. They hit the ground running, adrenaline propelling them forward until they were safely out of sight.
The automatic doors opened into the dimly lit Lookout, the familiar space offering an immediate sense of safety. Chase, Skye, and Marshall exchanged tense glances before Chase spoke. "Wake the others. We need to get everyone inside."
Minutes later, the entire team gathered in the main lobby area, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern as Chase initiated the Lookout's lockdown protocol.
"What is going on?" Rocky demanded, his brow furrowed.
Chase set the hard drive on the central table, his jaw tight. "I'm on a case—with Skye and Marshall—and we just had to run away from someone. Just want to make sure he can't get us."
Zuma cocked his head. "Shouldn't we tell Ryder?"
"Not yet," Chase said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He picked up the hard drive, holding it up for the team to see. "This has to do with people who worked with Ryder's parents. They're still out there doing their experiments, and I'm hoping whatever's on this drive will help me track them down and put a stop to it."
The room fell silent as the weight of Chase's words sank in. Finally, Rubble broke the silence. "What's on it?"
"I don't know yet," Chase admitted. "But I'm going to find out."
The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one protested. Chase sighed. "Guys, try to get some sleep. We're safe in here, even if Foyer shows up with the limp I gave him. I… have to look at these files."
Everyone spread out to find a comfy spot to sleep, except Skye.
"Chase," she said softly, "I know you want to protect me from whatever's on that drive, but—"
"No," Chase interrupted, "you're part of everything I do."
With that, the two headed to Ryder's office with the hard drive, ready to uncover the secrets it held.
The Lookout was eerily quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the building's systems as Chase and Skye entered Ryder's office. The weight of the hard drive in Chase's paw felt heavier than anything he'd carried before, though it was barely the size of a book. Skye stood beside him, her presence a steadying force.
"Here we go," Chase muttered, plugging the drive into Ryder's computer.
The screen flickered to life, and a cascade of folders appeared. Chase's heart raced as he navigated the neatly organized files. Each folder was labeled in cold, clinical terms: "Experiment Logs," "Subject Data," "Project Funding."
"This… this is everything," Chase whispered. His paw hovered over the first folder, labeled "Subject R-01." He didn't need to open it to know what—or rather, who—it referred to.
"Ryder," Skye murmured, her voice barely audible. She placed a paw on Chase's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to see this?"
Chase nodded, his jaw set. "We need to know."
The first file contained scans of medical charts and genetic analyses, each one detailing an experiment performed on Ryder while he was still in the womb. Chase scrolled through the documents, his eyes scanning phrases like "spliced canine and human DNA" and "desired traits: enhanced intelligence, leadership instincts, loyalty."
"Skye…" Chase's voice wavered. "They… they made him."
Skye stared at the screen, her expression shifting from shock to horror. "They didn't just experiment on him—they engineered him."
Chase opened another folder. The next set of files detailed experiments conducted after Ryder's birth. They described a boy subjected to grueling tests and cruel conditioning to ensure the experiments' success. Electroshock therapy was mentioned repeatedly, used to erase Ryder's memories of the experiments.
"They tortured him," Skye said, her voice trembling as a tear escaped her eye. "And he doesn't even know."
Chase's breathing grew shallow as he opened another folder: "Project Funding." A series of documents revealed vast sums of money funneled into the Lookout project through anonymous donors and shell charities. The realization hit Chase like a freight train.
"They paid for all of this before they died," he said, gesturing around the room. "The Lookout, the gear, everything… it's like they're still using Ryder."
Skye turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Chase… are you going to tell him?"
Chase swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the screen. "I really don't want to… but I don't know if I can keep it from him, either."
Skye's paw rested on his. "It's your decision, Chase. I'm behind you, whichever you choose."
The last folder on the drive was labeled "Lab Network." Chase clicked on it, revealing a map dotted with red markers. Each marker represented a lab connected to the Master Site. Coordinates accompanied each one, including the Master Site itself, hidden deep in upstate Maine. Six additional labs were scattered across New England and New York.
"This is it," Chase said, his voice filled with grim determination. "This is how we stop them."
Skye nodded, though her expression was troubled. "It's a lot to take in."
Chase leaned back, exhaustion washing over him. "It's too much," he admitted. "But we don't have a choice. They have to be stopped."
The screen glowed in the dim office, the map a chilling reminder of the scale of the Master Site's operations. Chase and Skye sat in silence, the weight of their discovery pressing down on them. The only comfort was the knowledge that they were in this together.
The Lookout was unnervingly silent as Chase finished typing out a coded message to Lieutenant Alvarez. The drive rested beside him on Ryder's desk, an unassuming object harboring unspeakable truths. Chase sent the message with a single keystroke, then exhaled sharply, his resolve hardening.
An hour later, headlights cut through the darkness outside the Lookout. Chase and Skye waited at the front entrance, while Marshall lingered in the background, his tail flicking anxiously. Alvarez stepped out of her vehicle, her presence calm yet commanding.
"Lieutenant," Chase greeted, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside. "Everything you need is on this drive."
Alvarez accepted it, her eyes narrowing as she studied Chase. "You understand what you've done tonight?"
Chase met her gaze without flinching. "Stopped something that should've been stopped a long time ago."
Alvarez nodded solemnly. "I just received a report from the raid of the Master Site, and the other labs are being raided as we speak. Foyer was picked up at his home ten minutes ago—your bite made him easy to identify. As for what we've uncovered at the Master Site…" She hesitated, her usual composure slipping for a brief moment. "I… won't tell you everything we found. Just know that you've helped to stop some very bad people tonight."
Chase nodded tightly, his expression grim. "That's fine by me—I've seen enough."
Alvarez stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Chase… this is going to ripple. You've set off something bigger than you realize."
"I know," Chase replied, his tone unyielding. "But someone had to do it."
Satisfied, Alvarez turned back to her vehicle, the drive secured in her hand. "You're a brave one, Chase. Don't lose that." She climbed in and drove away, her taillights vanishing into the night.
As the hum of the engine faded, the team dispersed in weary silence. One by one, they retreated to their doghouses, their minds heavy with what had transpired. Marshall murmured a quiet "goodnight" before heading off, his normally cheerful demeanor subdued. Skye lingered by Chase's side.
"Are you coming?" she asked softly, her concern palpable.
Chase shook his head. "Not yet. You go ahead, Skye. I just… need some time."
She hesitated, then reached out with her paw, touching his shoulder. "Don't carry this alone, Chase. We're all here for you."
He managed a faint smile. "Thanks, Skye."
As she walked away, her silhouette blending into the shadows, Chase remained rooted in place for a moment longer. The stillness of the night seemed oppressive, heavy with everything left unsaid. Finally, he turned and walked to his doghouse.
Lying down, Chase expected sleep to come, his body aching from the day's events. But the moment he closed his eyes, images flooded his mind—the hard drive, the files, Foyer's face twisted in anger. The weight of what he had uncovered pressed down on him, suffocating him in its enormity.
He tossed and turned, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. Every creak of the Lookout, every rustle of the wind outside, felt like the echo of a revelation he wasn't ready to face.
Sleep, when it finally came, was shallow and restless, leaving him unprepared for what the morning would bring.
Morning sunlight filtered through the Lookout, casting long shadows across the lawn. The world outside seemed peaceful, as if oblivious to the revelations of the night before. Ryder stretched in his quarters, his mind already shifting to the tasks of the day. Saturdays were always quieter—no morning briefing unless there was an emergency, and for once, everything seemed calm.
Except… something felt off.
Ryder couldn't quite place it. The team usually gathered for breakfast, but the Lookout was eerily silent. Walking out of the Lookout lobby, he glanced toward the doghouses. Most were closed, the occasional sound of gentle snoring coming from within.
Except Chase's.
His door was cracked open.
Ryder frowned. Chase's routines were as dependable as the sunrise, and an open doghouse door wasn't part of them.
Then again, neither was sneaking out late at night.
Ryder hesitated, then knocked lightly. When there was no response, he stepped inside.
Chase was curled up in the corner, his fur ruffled, his face etched with exhaustion. He wasn't asleep—his eyes were open, staring at the floor, but his usual sharp focus was nowhere to be seen. He didn't even react when Ryder entered.
"Chase?" Ryder said softly.
Chase flinched and quickly sat up. "Ryder! I—uh—sorry, I didn't hear you knock."
"Can you come with me, please?" Ryder asked, his voice firm but full of concern.
Ryder led Chase into his office and shut the door. "Chase, it's not like you to be absent the way you have been recently. I know you snuck out last night—and you had Marshall and Skye with you. What's going on?"
Chase opened his mouth, the excuses he'd rehearsed lingering on the tip of his tongue. He could say they'd gone to Adventure City for something benign. He could deflect, make it seem unimportant. Ryder would believe him.
But something inside him broke. The idea of a lie felt like a weight too heavy to carry with everything else.
Chase's shoulders trembled, and his ears flattened. Before Ryder could process what was happening, Chase let out a shuddering breath, his voice cracking. "I—I can't, Ryder. I can't lie to you."
And then the tears came.
Ryder's breath hitched. In the years he'd known Chase, he had never seen him cry. The sight left him stunned, but he didn't hesitate. He knelt beside Chase, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey… it's okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me."
For a long moment, Chase couldn't speak. The words felt tangled in his throat, but Ryder's quiet presence gave him the strength to begin.
Slowly, haltingly, he told Ryder everything.
The first clues about the Elegnem labs. The uprising and mass euthanasia. The investigation that led him to Dr. Foyer. The hard drive. The horrifying revelations about the experiments. The raids on the labs. Every detail spilled out, each one heavier than the last.
Ryder listened in silence, his expression unreadable, but his hand never left Chase's shoulder. By the time Chase finished, he was emotionally drained, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Ryder. I should've told you from the beginning, but… I didn't know how."
For a moment, Ryder said nothing. His gaze drifted to the sunlight streaming through the window, his mind reeling. "I always knew that… something was wrong," he finally murmured, almost to himself.
Chase's head snapped up. "No, Ryder. You're not what they tried to make you. You're our leader, our friend, our brother. You're kind, caring, brave. You have great style, you can cook, you're Catholic, you like music… you're you. This changes nothing."
Ryder's eyes softened, but the weight of the truth still loomed. "Chase… I'm proud of you for solving this case, but… this is gonna take some time."
"I know," Chase said quietly. "I'm sorry I did it behind your back."
Ryder shook his head. "No, you had to. I would've stopped you, and those labs wouldn't have been raided."
Chase hesitated, his voice tentative. "So… what are you gonna do?"
Ryder exhaled deeply, his gaze distant. "I… don't know, Chase. I don't know."
Chase nodded, sensing the conversation had reached its end. He stood, his movements slow, as though the emotional weight was still pressing on him. "Take all the time you need," he said softly. Then, with one last glance, he left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
Ryder sat alone, the quiet of the room almost deafening. He stared at the wall, the implications of what Chase had uncovered settling over him like a storm cloud.
For the first time in years, Ryder felt truly unmoored, his sense of self shaken to its core. But somewhere, in the depths of his mind, a quiet resolve began to form.
He just didn't know what it meant yet.
Notes:
And that's Season 2.
It's been quite a ride, and I hope you're all looking forward to Season 3 as much as I am!
'Til next time, God bless.
Nithoides on Chapter 19 Thu 03 Jul 2025 12:55PM UTC
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BrucknerIntensifies (CatholicSymphonist2024) on Chapter 19 Thu 14 Aug 2025 03:32AM UTC
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