The Paw Patrol padded quietly through the dust-filled halls of the abandoned research lab. The Queen herself had asked for their help, and as their leader, Chase kept a sharp eye on his team.

Marshall lagged behind, his usual spring in his step gone. The flickering lights above and the sterile smell of chemicals seemed to stir something deep inside him. His chest tightened as flashes—faded, broken memories—struck him. Cold tables. Needles. Voices he couldn’t quite remember.

“Guys, come on!” Skye chirped, her wings brushing the air as she scouted ahead. Zuma and Rocky were too distracted by the strange equipment, while Rubble muttered about how creepy the place was. None of them noticed Marshall slip into a side room.

Once alone, the Dalmatian pulled at his collar, his breathing quick and shallow. Why here? Why does it feel like I’ve… been here before?

When Chase realized Marshall was missing, his instincts kicked in. He searched through the darkened hallways until he found him, sitting low against a wall, his eyes clouded with something Chase had never seen before—fear.

The German Shepherd approached quietly, crouching down beside him. Without a word, he placed a steady paw on Marshall’s head, grounding him.

“I’ve got you, buddy,” Chase said softly, his tone more than just that of a leader—it was a friend’s promise.