Embrace (Rocky x Chase)

Chapter 12- House of Leaves

Although most members of the Paw Patrol were eager for adventure, exploring a condemned shack that was likely a nesting ground for drug dealers and vermin was not something they were keen on doing. Unfortunately for Chase and Marshall, they found themselves carpooling to the poor district of Adventure Bay, seeking out a clue Chase had stuck his mind to.

"I think I'm onto something," the shepherd growled as he drove off the main road, taking a dirt path into the poor district. "Whoever those strays were that trashed the market, they left a scent trail that leads here!"

"Leads?" Marshall echoed in confusion, squeezed beside Chase in the driver's seat. "Leads where? The scent ended in an alleyway."

"Well sure, but I recognized a piece of it," said the police officer, wind sweeping through his fur. "A smell that I remembered from my time here."

The spotted firefighter gave him an odd look. "Here? Poverty land?" He chuckled, "what in the world were you doing in a place like this?"

"It was a few months ago," Chase explained as he drove, glancing at Marshall every few seconds. "Liberty called Ryder and explained about some kind of drug deal she uncovered. Apparently the culprits were hiding in Adventure Bay, and low and behold, they were squatting in this shack that we're driving to right now." His ears flattened on his head, almost like he was trying to make himself more aerodynamic. "The whole property was littered with junkies and strays, it's been a hotspot for illegal activity for the longest time."

"You remembered a smell from months ago?"

"Well, I don't mean to brag." Chase chuckled, a smug tone on his tongue. "German shepherds are pretty handy with smells."

Marshall was unamused, "wha- oh fuck off, Chase." He grumbled, pouting as he turned to the side.

"Awe come on, buddy!" The shepherd laughed, brightening up as he gave Marshall an affectionate nudge. "Dalmatians are good too."

"Name something we're good at it." Marshall challenged, turning his blue eyes to him.

A beat of silence filled the air, the tiniest flash of shock hit Chase as he realized the hole he had dug himself into. "Well, uh-" he stuttered, tapping his paw on the steering wheel. "You're uh... outdoor dogs with-" he held the last syllable on his tongue, nervously trying to find something. "Endurance?"

"Try again." Marshall said flatly.

"You have lots of great things! Like uh..." Chase cut himself off as they approached an overgrown driveway. "Oh look, we're here."

Pulling the car to stop, Chase turned off the engine and hopped out. They had reached the farthest point of the poor neighborhood, where the infamous shack stood like a cancerous reminder of the filth that went unchecked under their noses. It was nowhere near a home, just messily carried the shape of one. Vines and mold had grown over its wooden exterior, and the building creaked as the wind brushed it. Before Marshall could even protest, Chase had already cleared the small set of stairs and stood atop the decrypted patio.

The front yard of the property was more accurately described as a landfill. Plastic bags of moldy trash had been torn open by animals and scattered in the grass, killing off the flowers to make way for the weeds. Rusted appliances were strewn about, a pile of old pots and pans laid like grave sites under an old tree, and an old refrigerator stood out of place in the dirt. Marshall didn't dare open it, lest he be attacked by whatever foul thing had invested the inside of it.

Every window of the shack was either shattered or duct-taped shut with various materials. Ancient wasp nests hung down like stalactite from the storm drains, thankfully free from the insects but a threatening reminder of their presence. Approaching the front door, -which was a generous thing to call it- Chase kept his ears pricked for any movement, wearily for anything that would jump them in its tragic corridors. The door wasn't even a door, it was just a large piece of sheet metal dragged across the doorway.