The everyday exhaustion of the Hospital was not something Dr. Wilkins was unfamiliar with. The shrill beeps of machines, the sounds of patients in agony, the scraping of wheelchairs and the murmured hush of the waiting room. For him, all of this was background noise, filtered away from his perception by a long and thorough habituation.

Like a fish in an infinite sea of noise, Dr Wilkins dutifully swam along, despite the great pressure of the water column bearing down, sinking his eyes ever deeper into his sockets and etching a permanent expression of tiredness on his face. It was something he had learned to live with.

His patients, though, did not benefit from such a slow of erosion of their senses.

“This is a horrible place,” said Linda, breaking her silence as the exam room door closed, the acoustic butchery of the hospital no longer assaulting her ears.

“That’s a common sentiment,” replied Dr. Wilkins. The unsaid fact that her condition would certainly merit continued monitoring was left as a silent addendum in his mind.

Linda’s case was unique. In so far as every case was unique. She was one of the infinite array of patients with chronic conditions so similar that they could be managed by a single kind of doctor, and yet still diverse enough as to require his attention, exhausting by their sheer number. Threatening to die or deteriorate if he spent one minute too long on the wrong patient, or one minute too few on the right one.

He was a great doctor, one of the many in this hospital, but some days, most days, that just wasn’t enough.

Eventually Linda’s exam ended, paperwork was done, and he moved on to the next patient. And the next one. And the next one. And so on until lunch. At noon,he left the room and started a fast but even stride towards the ephemeral, yet addictive, rejuvenation of the hospital canteen.

“Bark, I, a government agent, am interrupting your brisk walk,” proclaimed the rough voice of someone who definitely hadn’t been there a second ago.

Dr. Wilkins smashed into the other person like a toddler running into a wall. His momentum was instantly halted as he flopped against the other person. He tumbled towards the floor, but just as he was in the middle of saying his goodbyes to Broca, Wenrick and all the other bits of his brain sure to be scrambled by his upcoming concussion, two strong, fuzzy hands jerked him to a halt.

“Woof. I should’ve seen that coming. As I said, I am a government agent and,” began the giant talking dog, “and you fell right asleep didn’t you?”

Dr. Wilkins didn’t respond. Roderick shook him a bit. There was some response, but no neurologist to interpret it. Test results inconclusive. So Roderick dumped him in the ER.

“Dr. Wilkins!? Dr. Wilkins!” screamed a nurse, rushing to his side.

He’d let the doctors sort him out while he did the rest of his job. He was off on a quest to find an unattended computer and access private medical records, in a way that would hopefully be legalized post-hoc. But if not, the law was more of a suggestion when you were an essential national security asset.

Roderick wandered around the hospital glancing here and there for unsecured electronics. Hospitals were busier than the offices that he usually investigated, which made his job harder than it needed to be. Still, he was a big fan of the whole medical establishment. As someone who had dedicated their existence to helping the weak, their mission resonated with him. Plus, the soul crushing agony for everyone involved appealed to his refined sense of sadism. Hospitals were just great all around.

The shrill beeps of machines filled him with anticipation. The sounds of patients in agony put a smile on his face, the scraping of wheelchairs warmed his heart and the murmured hush of the waiting room reminded him of his earliest victims, whom he regretted harming, but whose screams he would forever cherish in his memory.

Sooner or later he’d found the computer of a secretary on lunch break. She really should have locked her computer screen. But hey, it made it easy for him. Life in general was much easier when you were practically invisible.

The hospitals electronic records system was terrible, and she didn’t even have full access. Seeing that there wasn’t much on the coma patients. he decided to go back and track down Dr. Wilkins again. He had just found his assigned room when he heard an echo of discont coming from the open doorway of Dr. Wilkins’ hospital room.

“Jacob, really, I’m fine,” insisted the voice of Dr. Wilkins.

“Anthony, I asked Sherryl to check how much overtime you’ve been pulling. It’s against all possible regulations and contracts. The law. Our contract. Even plain old common sense. We can’t have you collapsing at work, and the administration is backing me on this one. Anyone could use ‘My doctor was so tired he collapsed, there was no way he was practicing medicine responsibly!’ as ammunition in a lawsuit, and they wouldn’t even be wrong,” the voice paused, "You’re going on a forced vacation, and after that you’ll have a normal workload. Doctors orders, backed by admin,” responded Jacob in a tone that was not to be argued with. Dr. Wilkins must have somehow signaled his assent, as Jacob left the room with nothing more than a quick “Okay. Good that you understand.”

As Jacob left, Roderick entered the room. Dr. Wilkins was already in tears. Humans were gentle creatures he knew. He’d spent hundreds of years trying to account for this in his interaction with them. With a moderate level of success. He’d never thought they could be emotionally hurt by paid vacation time. It was amusing.

“Hello, bark,” greeted Roderick gently. “Sucks to be you.”

Dr. Wilkins looked up.

“Did Jacob give me something?” wondered Dr. Wilkins aloud. “Or was he right and I’ve had a psychotic episode on top of everything else?”

“Woof. Neither, nor. But I get that reaction a lot.” commented Roderick, bringing his gaze down to meet the doctor's own. “In fact, I am a government agent. Here about the sudden comas.”

Dr. Wilkins' eyes looked over at the creature, for lack of a better word. He’d heard of this sort of animal cosplay before, but this was clearly not a human being. It was bigger than anyone he’d ever seen, smelt of wet dog and the fairly large, inhumanly positioned eyes were very clearly wet and articulated. Not something that was possible with a suit.

As a neurologist he paid special attention to his patients’ eyes and people’s eyes in general. Many neurological conditions came with their own set of ocular jiggles. Nystagmus, square wave jerks, ocular flutter. Roderick’s eyes showed signs of some of the most mild opsoclonus he had ever seen. Faint but noticeable. His canine sclera kept jerking this way and that way, in tiny, nearly unnoticeable jitters. Anyone who wasn’t as accustomed to looking at eyes as he was would’ve missed them, but they were definitely there. It was a funny feeling, seeing so much of something he saw every dayreflected on such a bestial visage. The entire thing was so strange that he couldn’t even wallow in self-pity.

“You have opsoclonus.”

“What?”

“Ocular flutter. Your eyes jerk around randomly.”

“Oh that. Bark. That’s nothing to be worried about.”

Not so, in Dr. Wilkins medical opinion. But then again he wasn’t a vet. Or a whatever-this-person-was doctor. Any other day he would’ve let it drop there, but he was feeling combative today.

“You also keep inserting words into the middle of sentences. That sort of verbal tick could be another symptom. Do you have any idea why you might be doing it?”

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Roderick’s head dropped low, low enough to be at the bedridden doctor's eye-level. Sometimes, clear communication was called for.

“Because I’m barking mad, bark,” said Roderick threateningly. “It would take too long to explain, but it makes me much friendlier.”

Dr. Wilkins could believe half of that statement, and he wasn’t up for taking any shit today.

“If you want to seem friendly—”

“Not seem. It makes me much friendlier. I’m plastic like that, though it took a long time to take effect.”

Roderick moved closer, and Dr. Wilkins cast a shy glance at his mouth. Roderick’s teeth had gotten a little too close to Dr. Wilkins' face, and little spittles from his explanation landed on it. Dr. Wilkins was emotional, not stupid, so he took the action for what it was, a warning.

“I see,” said Dr. Wilkins, that was what he said to patients when he didn’t understand what they were saying but needed to seem in control. It was shockingly effective as long as you had a purely formal relationship with the other person.

“Bark, woof, grrr,” purred Roderick, his tail swinging from side to side. Dr. Wilkins would call that an expression of happiness. The tail's motion drew his eye to the giant sword at Roderick's waist, which Dr Wilikins knew better than to ask about. At least not right after receiving some thinly veiled threats.

“You said you were a government agent?” asked Dr. Wilkins, trying to get the conversation back on track. Where that track would lead, that he didn’t know.

Roderick twitched, his entire body shifting Into a seemingly calmer pose, almost professional. His ears up high, his neck craned forward and his tiny little nose scrunched up as it sniffed the air. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. His tail picked up speed. It was adorable.

“I am,” and I would like to ask you some questions pertaining to the ‘mysterious comas’ that you have reported.”

It was funny how quickly intimidation could fade when the fangs were no longer out. Rodrick’s general fluffiness didn’t help his fear factor.

“Could I see some ID? A badge maybe?” asked Dr. Wilkins with newfound boldness. After all, government officials lived in a land of rules, regardless of whether or not they would like to imply otherwise.

To his great surprise the answer was affirmative.

“Sure.”

Dr. Wilkins blinked, and when the darkness behind his eyelids folded back up below his eyebrows, Roderick already had a piece of leather bound plastic in hand.

Dr. Wilkins tried to grasp it while it was still in Roderick's hand. He pulled. It didn't so much as budge, up until Roderick let go, smiling.

The badge had a logo on it. Seemingly the seal of some obscure military department.

Office of special investigations, Senior investigator.

Roderick Wulfman

It had a picture of him in a suit. Despite that, Mr. Wulfman was currently very naked. The nakedness was more awkward now that he knew that he knew he sometimes had clothes on.

“Who gave you this?” Asked Dr.Wilson.

“Wooooooooof.” The length of his woof clearly indicated how stupid he found the question. ”The office of special investigations, of course. The only department in the military that knows I exist.”

Dr. Wilkins didn’t buy that for a second. Roderick really didn’t care for this part of his job. Explaining and legitimizing his authority in front of people was such a chore.

“Look. I’ll give you the same old regurgitated spiel I give everyone. I am a government agent, specifically in the military. I get paid and have an operations budget and everything. You can find the department on the military’s official website and give them a ring.”

Dr. Wilkins was as good at using a phone as anyone else. The office of special investigations was hidden behind several dropdown menus and organograms on the military's homepage, but he found it easily enough with a little bit of help from a malcontent Roderick.

The office of special investigations is charged with conducting extraordinary investigative activities outside of the scope of all other military agencies. It numbers no more than twenty agents at a time.

They were surprisingly open about everything for a military agency. Roderick Wulfman stood at number twenty on their—publicly accessible!—list of agents. There was even a photo of him, suit and all. Dr. Wilkins didn’t bother calling the listed number. That didn’t mean that all his confusion was cleared up.

“And how does you being a dog factor into this?”

“I am a dog-shaped supernatural entity that cannot be noticed by humans unless they, or others interact with me in a sufficient capacity. Why do you think no one’s kicked me out of the hospital yet?”

Roderick inhaled. His chest grew enough that he could easily believe he’d sucked in a whole day's worth of air.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP! HE’S HURTING ME!” shouted Roderick.

Nothing followed the sudden scream. No interventions, no curious inquiries, no nothing. Point taken.

It was immediately obvious why the military would want someone with a skill set like that. Dr. Wilkins assumed it would be some sort of crime to not cooperate now that the other man's status as a legitimate authority had been thoroughly established.

Roderick breathed in again.

“I believe you, no need to shout further,” interrupted Dr. Wilkins, in no mood to have his ringing ears assaulted again.

“You know, it’s a huge bother for the department. I’m very secret, and also cost a fortune in operations. They keep having to hide their real expenditures whenever they get audited, there’s no way the auditors would miss all the flights, helicopters and blacksmith’s fees without some fraudulent records here or there.”

It was hard to take him seriously when his maw was open in what was clearly supposed to be a smile. He was even drooling slightly, clearly finding the entire situation heavily amusing. It made Dr. Wilkins uncomfortable.

“Didn’t you want to question me?” said Dr. Wilkins, trying to change the topic.

“Woof. Good point,” began Roderick. “I’m going to need your records on the sudden coma patients. Your hospital’s records system is terrible. But before that, you can give me a general overview. Have you noticed any commonalities between your patients?”

“They were young men, all under the age of twenty-five. Several reported vivid dreams, the comas were all quite short and had no obvious side effects. Other than that they didn’t have much in common other than living in the general area.”

“So someone shoved them into dreamland for a bit,” concluded Roderick. “That’s fairly common, the sorts of people who do that aren’t normally very dangerous, bark.”

“So the cause is some sort of criminal activity?”

“Normally, it’s a random person that’s somehow discovered how to do limited ‘magic’ for lack of a better word. Dealing with them is obviously important to maintaining national security and I’m the only person that the government has on hand that can thoroughly deal with these cases. Sometimes they send out the other agents, but I prefer to handle things myself; there are fewer casualties that way.”

Roderick’s chin lifted up slightly into the air, and his posture widened. He was obviously proud of himself for that. The idea that there were magic powers floating around was sort of undeniable at this point, so Dr. Wilkinson went with the flow.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Yes actually. Speaking of my colleagues, I need a new one. I,” Roderick paused for a few seconds, “lost my last human and I’m near the limit at which I might need a replacement. You’re on vacation, I figured you could pitch in.” Roderick looked down, like he wasn’t particularly happy about needing to ask.

Dr. Wilkins was a bachelor. He had worked all his life to become a doctor, he didn’t have any hobbies, he barely had any friends. Functional was not a word that described him outside of the hospital. Vacatiaon was torture for a man with no life. What else was there left to say?

“Sure,” agreed Dr. Wilkins.

Rodericks tail began to swing from side to side. He even yipped a little.

“Perfect. You’re going to want to be asleep for this next part. Then we’ll sort through all your patient files, before questioning them individually. Then I’ll …”

Dr. Wilkins hoped that he’d slow down at some point. He really couldn’t handle so much stimulation.