Run. Jump. Sniff. Bark.

New instructions - no, orders flowed through Eamon's head as he navigated through the seemingly endless rubber-lined maze of the obstacle course. They seemed to come from somewhere within his mask ... no, mind. Why would a police dog wear a mask?

Duck. Attack. Roll. Dodge.

Where they came from didn't matter, though. It was easy to simply focus on the orders. When he focused on his orders, the uneasy, nagging feeling in his head went away. The feeling that something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong ...

But contemplating his situation meant disobeying orders ... and police officers obey orders. Right?

Good boy!

See? He was a good boy!

Good boys don't disobey orders.

The orders almost seemed sentient in the way that they mirrored his own thoughts. Every time his thought pattern strayed away from obeying the immediate order at hand, the orders would address any concern he may have had.

And besides, the more he questioned orders, the longer it took to complete the obstacle course. And if he remembered anything, it was that his goal was to get out of here. So obeying the orders made sense! After all, it was obvious that they knew what to do. They had the optimal answer in every situation. They knew best.

Thinking took time. Time means delays. Delays means a longer time to finish the obstacle course. Delays also mean less lives saved. Less criminals caught. Less cases solved. Where seconds matter, independent thought eats up precious seconds. Too many seconds. Thought is bad, he should only act. Obey.

Good Boy!

The rubber coating that had been building up over every inch of his body was becoming easier to navigate in, feeling suprisingly light and agile despite the supposed added weight of newer, thicker layers being endlessly, consistently applied. In fact, it felt as light as if it was his own skin rather than a seperate suit. It probably didn't have anything to do with his slow, gradually shrinking size, rubber squeaking loudly as he forcefully squeezed through a series of progressively smaller tunnels in the course. These tunnels pressed in on his increasingly shiny body from every side, softly and subtly molding him into more proper canine porportions as his increasingly rubber-infused body became more malleable and soft, more vulnerable to the whims and compressions of the increasingly canine obstacle course.

But he didn't notice nor care - all he knew was that good police pups needed to be flexible, to squeeze into even the tightest of crevices if it was necessary to save a life or pursue their target. Having a purely rubber body helped a lot with that, with no pesky vital organs that need to be kept 'intact' getting in the way, his elastic, stretchy form could scramble through spaces impossible for any human or even a fleshy fellow dog - a trait that the trainee was extremely proud of. He knew he would instantly become an invaluable asset to the force - and to his new masters!

His progressively sensitive nose suddenly detected a whiff of a new, distinct scent radiating before him - Air! outside! He was getting close! With a newfound enthusiasm, he bounded forwards, completing his tasks with a renewed, jumpy vigor like he was a natural, like he had been on all fours his whole life. Which, as far as he was concerned, he has.

His name was but a faint memory, an unimportant footnote when compared to his new priorities: the new canine policing instincts rushing through his brain. Who was he again? What was he?

He shoved these questions out of his mind as he skidded to a halt: before him lay a climbing wall, like those found in a bouncy house. This was the final obstacle before the outside - he could tell. He could smell it.

His newfound confidence wasn't deterred by the prospect of climbing. Without a second's hesitation he leapt at the wall, forcing his rubbery paws into the grooves embedded in the wall's smooth glossy side. His semi-sticky paws allowed him to clamber up with ease, the gooey latex changing consistency to fit the situation like specially crafted suction cups.

His entire life history before this obstacle course felt like a rapidly fading dream. But why should he focus on that? What he was before didn't matter - only following commands and obeying his superiors. After all, that was the duty of a good police pup.

metallic arms flew down from the ceiling as he scampered up the final hurdle, reaching the top of the mountain. They attached their cargo to his back - a rubbery police pack filled with all the accessories a police pup could ever need - and more. Once placed, it seemed to fuse with the rubber of his blue police vest, sinking inside his rubbery skin and becoming like an extra limb, an instinctual mental tool perfectly aligned with his will - or, rather, the will of his masters. He reminded himself that he was only a tool as well - like the pack on his back, he was nothing more than a limb of the long arm of the law. He did not command, but simply obeyed.

A new order pulsed through his brain - stay.

The trainee froze. Beneath him he could see light emenating from the wide-open exit below. Escape - his original goal all along - was finally within his grasp.

But escape was no longer his goal. In fact, he no longer had any real goals of his own. Police pups have no goals or ambitions except to be the best officers they can be, to do their duties to the fullest. To proudly and obediently serve the force.

and obedience meant staying put. So stay put he did.

More nozzles and arms began reaching out from who-knows-where, spraying and painting and applying. Decals, emblems, insignas. Pride began to swell within him as the nozzles did their work - he was becoming a proper police pup! They were accepting him! He'd been a good boy!

His vision suddenly began to return as round, cartoonish eyes were painted onto his new face - eyes that, suprisingly, he found that somehow he could control despite the fact that they were little more than painted on decorations. He didn't question it, however - it wasn't his place as a police pup to question things.

But finally, and most importantly, he was given his very own collar, locked and fused permanently into place, and a designation.

HIS designation.

He finally knew who he was.

He was 03.

Police dog Three.

Part 3 of devilwolf1984's police pup training!