AN: So here is my next Paw Patrol fanfic. This one is a lot more violent than my previous one and, in many cases, downright cruel and scary. So expect a lot of things to dark in this story and a lot of sad moments as well. I think after this story I'll do something more positive just too even things out.

Also, if people want, I can make this Zuma x Rocky. I didn't think about it at first, but looking at the story (and in the episodes) I find Zuma and Rocky to be very close. Kinda like Marshall and Chase. They can be best friends/brothers like I did with Chase and Marshall in my last story or I can make them a romantic couple. You make the call.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Paw Patrol.

Down at the Lookout of Adventure Bay, the six pups of Paw Patrol were doing their weekly athletics tournament. Every week, the pups did this not only to stay in shape for their duties, but to also have fun as well. Each pup had their own special skill they were great at: Marshall was the fastest runner, Skye was the highest jumper, Zuma was the best swimmer, Chase was the best climber, Rocky had the best balance, and Rubble was the strongest lifter.

At the moment, Rocky and Rubble were preparing for the obstacle course while Chase held the black and white flag. The two pups readied themselves as Chase raised the flag. The other pup barked in anticipation as they counted down. "Three! Two! One! Go!"

Chase brought down the flag, the two pups howling as they raced down the field. They first headed towards the tire tracks where they jumped from each one before heading towards the trampoline. Nearby was a rope, tired to a tree branch that they had to swing from to a box on the other side to land on. Rocky was able to bounce first and grab on, even doing a Tarzan yell as he sailed in the air before landing on the box. Rubble jumped and followed right behind him.

"Can't catch me, Rubble!" shouted Rocky with a laugh, but his cry was cut short when he tripped over a snail in his path and landed on his back. The snail managed to sail in the air and land on his nose making the others rear back at the gross sight.

Rubble ran past Rocky, laughing all the way. "What was that, slow poke? That snail suits you!"

Rocky growled and jumped back onto his paws to chase after the bulldog. They were now heading for a large log that they had to run through while dealing with a slippery wax that had been placed on the bottom. Rocky had no trouble, bur Rubble found it hard to stay standing. Just as they were about to reach the end of the log, Rubble spotted something and gasped. "Spider!"

Indeed, a large daddy long leg was dandling on a web string in front of the exit. Rubble grinded his paws to a halt, but ended up getting bumped in the back by Rocky. The two tumbled out of the log and into a small dog pile as the spider, knockd off it's string, landed on Rubble's nose.

"Ah! Get it off! Get it off!" shouted Rubble, jumping off and shaking his head. The spider eventually got free and skittered away. "Ewww! Spider cooties!" Rubble then proceeded to wipe his nose on the grass much to the laughter of the others.

Rocky, grunting, got up and shook his head. "It was just a small spider. Besides, that kind isn't deadly."

"Doesn't matter! It was still creepy," said Rubble, shivering. "Ugh, I hate spiders."

"I can't believe such a strong pup like you is so afraid of little spiders," laughed Rocky, earning a glare in return.

"Says the pup that hates water, and lives near a bay?" countered Rubble with a jab that made Rocky blush.

"Touché."

Skye walked over and put her paw on her friend's shoulder. "It's okay, Rubble. All of us are afraid of something. Remember when we helped Alex with the dentist? We all learned of what we were afraid of."

Rubble was about to agree until something click in hi head. "Wait a minute. We never found out what Zuma's fear was."

Everyone turned to the water rescue pup who just smirked. "That's because I'm not afwaid of anything. I'm the bwavest pup in all of Adventuwe Bay!"

"Seriously? You're not scared of spiders, snakes, rats, or skunks?" asked Rubble.

"Nope."

"What about heights?" asked Marshall.

"Nah, I like flying, dude. Not as much as swimming, but its weally cool."

"Okay, ghosts?" pointed out Chase. "You were really spooked at Halloween."

"Dude, evewyone was spooked at Halloween, that's not a fair one. Face it, out of all you pups, I'm feawless." said Zuma, puffing out his chest before he let out a yawn. He turned around to head for his pup house. "I'm beat from all this. I'm gonna take a nap."

The others watched the labrador walk away, but they looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "Hey, does anybody really know why Ryder didn't pick Zuma that day? I mean, it kind of seems unfair that we all went but Zuma," said Chase.

"Maybe Ryder doesn't know what he's afraid of?" suggested Marshall, scratching his ears. "I mean I don't. Does anybody?"

"Me neither."

"Same here."

"I… don't really know."

"Nope."

The five blinked upon realizing they didn't know anything about what Zuma was afraid off. "Huh, this is weird. I mean we all knew each other's fears for a long time. Even Ryder's fear wasn't new to us," pointed out Chase as he rubbed his chin. "This is a bit suspicious."

"What is?" asked Rubble.

"Well," Chase started to pace around, his eyes in deep concentration. "What do we know about Zuma? I mean, really know about him? Like, where did he come from and stuff?" He pointed to himself and then at Marshall. "Marshall and I were adopted by Ryder around the same time. We practically were raised by him."

"That kind of makes us brothers, eh?" asked Marshall, nudging his friend with a grin. "Although, I'm the big brother since I'm older then you."

"And yet you still sleep with a teddy bear," chuckled Chase.

"Leave Mr. Snuggles out of this!" argued a blushing Marshall.

"I'm from a family of flying stunt pups," said Skye with pride as she flipped through the air. "I just always thought being a rescue pup was cooler then stunts. Plus, helping people is a great feeling."

"Well, you know me," said Rubble, shrugging his shoulders. "I never knew my folks. I just wandered around ever since I could remember."

"And… well, you know about me," muttered Rocky, looking away with anger and sadness in his eyes. The others respectful said nothing to the mixed breed that had the one tragic story out of all of them. Rocky himself tried to push away the memories of the cruel owner he once had, and the many times he was abused until he was rescued by animal police. It took months to heal from those scars, but thanks to Ryder he never had to worry about such a thing happening again.

"Right, so what about Zuma?" asked Chase, again. "He was before Rubble joined us, but all Ryder said was that he found him and brought him home."

"Why does it matter? Zuma probably had a good reason for not telling anyone," said Rocky, getting a bad feeling about this. Zuma was his best friend and he didn't feel like digging into his past." "I mean, if it was something bad, doesn't he deserve a chance to come forward with it on his own? Remember how long it took me?"

"Do you think it might be bad?" asked Skye with a worried face.

Rocky bit his lip, but didn't say anything. If anything, he knew it had to be bad from personal experience. It was back during the week when Zuma first arrived…

While it was no hidden secret that Rocky hated anything to do with water, even he had to drink it from time to time. Drinking water was fine, it was going into his mouth instead of his fur and he needed it to survive. Any other type of water, however, he wanted to be as far away as possible. Still, when one's mouth is dry as a desert in the middle of the night, you tend to obey your thirst.

Waking up from his dream, Rocky yawn and smacked his lips together a bit before walking to his water bowl for a quick drink. With half-open eyelids, he reached down to lap a few licks, but found nothing in his bowl. Rubbing his eyes, Rocky saw that it held no water, making him groan. "Great, now what?" he whispered to himself, careful not to wake the other pups.

He didn't want to wake anyone else for something as simple as a drink of water, but where could he get some? The idea came to him a split second later. Oh, yeah. The toilet bowl! I'm just gonna have to make sure no pup, or Ryder, knows I did this.

Tiptoeing past Marshall's pup house, he entered the Lookout, and made his way to the nearby bathroom. After a few silent, but quick, drinks, he made his way back to the entrance when he heard someone moaning. Rocky perked his ears up as he soon picked up the sound of crying, and wondered who it could be in the Lookout's lower level. Only Ryder slept in the Lookout, and he lived on the second floor.

"…no… get away… please stop… stop it…" whispered the tiny voice.

Inching closer to the living room, Rocky spotted a figure, lying in a blanket on the couch, kicking the air while tossing side to side. He then remembered who it was upon getting closer and seeing his figure. It was the new pup, Zuma. He had only been here for a few days with Ryder announcing he was going to be the new water rescue pup. He and the others tried to get friendly with Zuma, but the young pup was shy and didn't speak much or play. He was always alone. The only reason he was sleeping in the Lookout was because Ryder was still working on his custom pup house which would turn into a hovercraft.

Rocky chalked it up to being just nervous. He was the same way seven months ago when Ryder brought him here. Still, it looks like he's having a really bad nightmare.

Deciding not to leave the new pup in his trouble state, Rocky jumped onto the couch and began to shake the troubled sleeper. "Hey, Zuma? Wake up, you're just dreaming."

"Gah!" shouted Zuma, looking around as if he has seen a ghost. When he saw who it was that woke up him, he took a deep breath and relaxed. "Oh, Wocky. It's you…" Rocky giggled upon hearing his name spoken like that. He, like the others, found the little pup's speech impairment to be adorable. "What awe you doing here?"

"I heard you having a nightmare, mind if I sit next to you?" asked Rocky, giving him a comforting smile.

Zuma hesitated at first, but he nodded and made room for the older mixed breed. The two sat there in the silent dark, letting time slip past them.

Finally, Zuma sighed and looked down in shame. "I bet you think I'm a big baby, huh?"

"Why would I think that?" asked Rocky, raising his eyebrow.

"Well," Zuma rubbed the back of his head. "Aren't we supposed to be bwave wescue pups? It doesn't look very bwave when you have a nightmare…"

"Hey, we all get nightmares," said Rocky, put a paw on the rookie's shoulder. "Nightmares can't hurt you, Zuma. They're just like watching scary movies."

"… but it was more thana dweam, Wocky," muttered Zuma, closing his eyes as a tear dripped down. "It was a memory."

This got Rocky's attention. A memory? Must have been pretty bad for him to have been acting like that. What happened to him? Is he… like me?

"I bet you wanna know now, huh?" asked Zuma.

"… no, you don't have to tell me," answered Rocky, which made Zuma turn his head in surprise. "Believe me, I know what it's like to go through something bad in your life, and not want to think about it."

"W-what happened to you?" asked Zuma, before wincing. "S-sorry, if I'm not willing to tell it wouldn't be fair if-"

"Naw." Rocky put his paw on Zuma's making the younger pup blush. "It's okay. I'm… learning to talk about what happened to me." Taking a deep breath, Rocky looked out at the stars from a nearby window as he thought about his past life. "My old owner? He used to be a good man. We were the best of pals, and did everything together. But that all changed when he lost his job. He got angry… and drunk. I had to clean the place up while he kept hanging out at bars, wasting what little money we had." It was during that time that he found his love of recycling and turning old stuff into new stuff. His old owner called it stupid, thinking it was wasting time. Ryder said he was like the dog version of MacGyver.

"Did he… huwt you?" asked Zuma, softly.

Now it was Rocky's turn to let out a tear. "Yes." He wiped it away and continued, "He beat me at times when he was really drunk. Then he would apologize later and said he still loved me. I believed him until one day, he got really drunk. Turns out we were broke. He blamed me for everything. Took me to the tub and… held me underwater." Rocky growled as he remembered the feeling of water entering his lungs, slowly taking his breathe away as he waited for the end to come. It was because of that day that he felt his brain screaming for help every time he was wet.

"How did you get out of there?" asked Zuma, inching closer with amazement.

"I played dead. Convinced my owner he killed me. He just left me there on the floor to rot," spat Rocky, cursing his former owner. He may have loved him once, but that day he let what little love he had die. "I ran to a neighbor after he fell asleep and he called the authorities. My owner was arrested and put in jail, and I was sent into a foster care system until Ryder took me in."

And Rocky didn't care if his owner was sorry or not. He was glad he would never have to smell his fowl breath or his rambling about the injustices against him when he could have gotten another job easily. No, he wasn't going to pity the man who tried to kill him, no matter what excuse he gave. He had Ryder. He had the pups. And he swore to never let anyone feel as helpless as he did back then. Turning to Zuma, Rocky gave him a smile and patted him on the head. "I still get nightmares too, but then I remember that I'm surrounded by my friends who love me, and it goes away. You should think the same thing."

Zuma nodded, showing a small smile. "Okay, Wocky." Rocky was about to head out when Zuma grabbed his paw, blushing again. "Um, Wocky? D-d-do you think… you can stay with me tonight? I… I don't want to be alone…"

Rocky nodded and snuggled next to Zuma, holding him tight as the two slowly fell asleep next to each other.

"Hello? Earth to Rocky!" shouted Marshall, snapping the recycling pup out of his daydreaming. "You okay?"

"O-oh, yeah," said Rocky, finding his composure. "Just thinking. Anyway, let's just leave Zuma alone. It's his business after all."

"Yeah, you're right," said Chase, nodding his head. He then barked and shook his tail. "Who wants to play tag instead?!"

"Me!" shouted the other five pups as they began to chase after Chase.

***Meanwhile, in another location***

At this current moment, a prison transporter car was driving on route to bring its only cargo for court hearing which was to take place in a few hours. It was manned by two police officers in the front, while another holding a shotgun stood in the back, watching the prisoner who stood as still as doornail.

The prisoner was a dangerous one, who was listed with charges of murder, theft, robbery, assault, drugs, and more. He had a few dangerous friends too, and it was because of this that caution was being taken. A fake truck was being protected by cops while the news was airing the scene. The real truck was to take a longer, but quiet route to avoid suspicion.

"How much longer?" asked the prisoner, hidden in the shadows.

"Soon," said the guard, looking more and more nervous with each passing second. Sweat dripped down his bald head and he held his shotgun even closer to him.

"Relax, Officer Palmer. It's not me you should be worried about," said the prisoner, grinning as a gold tooth shined in the darkness.

Suddenly, the truck came to a screeching halt. The officer gulped while the prisoner wasn't even fazed. "What's the hold up, officers?" he asked with a mocking concerned voice.

"Nothing. Looks like some kind of accident blocking the road," said the driver as the sound of two doors opening followed.

The prisoner chuckled before slowly raising his hand, showing all five fingers as he counted down one by one. When the last one was up, four shots rang out in the air, spooking the cop as he held his gun closer. For a whole minute there was nothing.

Then light poured in upon the rear doors being open, revealing the prisoner as clear as the sun outside. He had a light bond hair that reached down to his end of his neck; a light green dye was on his bangs. His right ear had golden ear pricing and his arms were layered with tattoos and scars. Grinning, his eyes showed a hint of amusement as he got out where his posse was waiting for him, the guard right behind him.

His gang, consisting of four whites and two blacks, were dressed what you would normally find on your average street thug, holding pistols while they hollered their leader back. Stretching his arms out like he was a savior, the prisoner hugged each of his friends as they welcomed him back. One of the blacks, wearing a backwards Red Sock's cap, patted his buddy on the back. "Welcome back, Stone."

"Got my baby?" asked Stone as he was handed a black pocket knife. He pressed the switch and popped out the blade, caressing it like it was a priceless treasure. "Oh, I missed you so much, Shiva." He kissed it and began flipping it around.

The cop, nervously clearing his throat as all seven set of eyes glared at him, said, "We… we had a deal. I help you get freed. You'd free my family."

"Right, I forgot about that," said Stone, tapping his head with edge of his knife. "I kind of have a bad memory for being locked up for nearly two years." He walked over and wrapped his arm around the cops' neck. "I said I would have you meet you family again, Officer Palmer. And I never go back on my word."

Palmer ready to open his mouth, but all that came out was a gurgle as Stone shoved the pocket knife straight into his throat. He smiled as he twisted it further into the neck, watching blood drip down as Officer Palmer began to choke, struggling against the enviable while his eyes began to lose the light in them. Stone held on as he continued to inch the blade deeper. Whimpering into the officer's ear in his final moments, he said, "Be sure to say high to the wife and kids when you meet them."

He finally took out the knife and began to wipe the blood with his prisoner uniform as the dead body fell to the ground. One of the gangsters walked up and asked, "So what do we do now, boss?"

Stone smile as he began flipping the now clean knife. "First, I want some real food, better clothes… and then… well we start planning a little trip, boys."

"Where to?"

"Ever heard of a town called Adventure Bay?"