A series of abductions were reported just where the railway line disappeared under Corso Francia. They responded quickly and scouted all around. It was a lonely spot, frequented by riff-raff and ne'er do wells - so they were on their guard. "There's something on the rails," shouted Lapinette. She peered over the fence. "It looks like a question mark." "Let's go down and have a look," said the Wabbit, waving an automatic from left to right. His gun was far from new. The safety catch had broken off a long time since, and the trigger was shiny and worn. "Steady there, Commander, that gat needs a reset," said Wabsworth. Lapinette turned to shout. "Wabbit, I think it moved into the ..." Her voice cut off suddenly. The Wabbit's head swiveled to look, but no-one was there. Lapinette had gone. They rushed to the top of the steps - but of Lapinette, there was no trace whatsoever, except for her automatic. The Wabbit picked it up, wheeled and fired three times at the rail tracks. Wabsworth's ears swayed slightly. "Commander?" "She'll hear it," shrugged the Wabbit. He poked around and kicked grass-eaten asphalt. "I'm looking for her knife," he explained. They stiffened as a bloodcurdling cry echoed from the street, followed by three more. "She still has it," smiled the Wabbit. [gat: slang for gun. Originally derived from Gatling Gun but eventually applied to hand guns.]
Lapinette called urgently from the Department of Wabbit Affairs to summon the Wabbit to an incident. There, an Agent swung gently from a rope tied high on the roof, and he looked dead or close to it. "Better get him down," grimaced the Wabbit. He pulled mountaineering equipment from his fur and scaled the wall. Wabsworth took the service stairs and appeared from a skylight. "Easy now," shouted Lapinette, "All in one piece, please." The Wabbit took a good look. "He has a note." Wabsworth swung across and grabbed it. The body swayed once more and suddenly crashed to the ground. Lapinette hopped out of the way with an angry cry. "Is he dead?" called the Wabbit. "Well he is now," scowled Lapinette. "It was the note that did it!" yelled the Wabbit. Lapinette glared. "What does the note say?" Her nose wrinkled as she gazed at the crumpled corpse. Wabsworth squinted at the scrawled message. "It says you're next." "Who's next?" asked the Wabbit. "The note writer failed to elucidate," replied Wabsworth. "Look there's a question mark, painted in blood," pointed Lapinette, "It's on a picture." Wabsworth conducted a speedy analysis. "It's not blood, it's colouring," "That's a priceless work of art," yelled Lapinette. Wabsworth moistened a paw, dabbed the question mark, and tasted it. "Food dye," he murmured. "Too much dyeing round here," hissed the Wabbit.
The scene of crime was deserted except from some flimsy yellow tape, the shape of a body and dried blood. The Wabbit hopped under the tape. Wabsworth sliced it neatly and carefully initialled the cut edge. "They usually miss something," shrugged the Wabbit. He looked at the shape and whistled "I ain't got nobody," through his 28 teeth. Then he crouched to examine an ornate floor tile. "This is loose," he murmured. He levered it up. It groaned as he slid it to the side. "Oh, what is that? What is the question, Wabsworth?" "Who's been and gone and dunnit to who?" replied Wabsworth. "The perpetrator dunnit," said the Wabbit. "That's a tautology," answered Wabsworth. The Wabbit nodded his head twice - up and down and side to side. Then he spoke: "Someone drew a question mark with the blood of the victim." "A signature?" suggested Wabsworth. The Wabbit shrugged again. "We don't know if the perp drew it." Wabsworth smiled. "OK Sherlock, who then?" "The evidence currently points to me." smiled the Wabbit. "Well it doesn't look like your signature," scowled Wabsworth. The Wabbit grinned. "Then I'm off the hook." He slid the tile back in place. "I don't think it happened here," he said. "This is just the disposal site." Wabsworth's circuits whirred, then he said: "To both implicate you and leave an indelible stain on the Carrot Club's reputation." "What reputation?" asked the Wabbit.
The Wabbit met Wabsworth outside a budget hotel in downtown Turin on a matter of urgency. "It's about the Carrot Club," said Wabsworth. The Wabbit was puzzled because Carrot Club matters were seldom urgent. "There's been a murder," said Wabsworth. "Who's the victim?" asked the Wabbit. Wabsworth sighed. "It seems to be me." "But you're here," said the Wabbit. He poked him sharply in the ribs to make sure. "It looks like me," said Wabsworth, "but it's not me." The Wabbit shook his head from side to side. "We'd better get down there, pronto." Now Wabsworth shook his head. "It's crawling with forensic rabbits from the Bureau of Internal Mysteries." He fished in his fur and extracted a fearsome sharpened carrot. The Wabbit touched the end. "Yow," he shouted. He sucked his paw and gasped. "You took a murder weapon from a crime scene?" Wabsworth pointed. "It has your gnaw marks on it, Commander. Look just here. And here." The Wabbit grimaced. His gnaw marks were unmistakable. "I have to ask you, Wabbit. Where were you between the hours of dusk and dawn?" The Wabbit laughed. "I was with you of course." Wabsworth frowned and the Wabbit smiled. "OK, I owe you lunch. Tell me, is it messy?" Wabsworth tucked the weapon in his fur. "Who would have thought an android had so much blood..."
They'd arranged to meet at the cinema caffè and then watch a movie. But the Wabbit and Lapinette wanted to surprise Wabsworth, so they lay in wait. "I think that must be him now," said Lapinette. "I can just see him crossing the road." "Leave it until he's right at the door," said the Wabbit. The cinema had many volunteers and it was Skratch's night to staff the ticket office. He was checking the till when he heard Wabsworth's voice. "What kind of Adventure did you have, while I was here holding the fort?" Skratch looked up in surprise. "How on earth did you get in?" he asked sharply "The cleaners let me in the back," said Wabsworth. He proffered a large note. "May I have four tickets please? I get the android's discount." Skratch agreed and turned to watch the Wabbit. Both Lapinette and the Wabbit were clearly oblivious to Wabsworth's arrival. He shrugged and uttered: "The adventure was as sprawling and chaotic as an adventure can be." Wabsworth took the tickets and pushed them into his coat. "Anti-narrativity is but an illusion," he said. "Textuality sutures the rift between anti-narrativity and reality." Skratch pondered this for while. "Where did you read that?" he purred. Wabsworth smiled. "I didn't read it. The cleaners told me." [Wabsworth is possibly referring to a famous documentary, Night Cleaners made in 1975 (UK)]
Terni the Dragon arrived just before the storm hit the city of Incontinentia. He flew from the corner of a blood red moon to see the team scrambling to the top of a tall block, He was just in time. Wind buffeted the building and it lurched alarmingly. Fitzy Mitzy and Tipsy clung to a street light. Puma shinned up the post behind them but he could barely get a hold. Skratch pulled Lapinette to the roof. The building swayed. The street light shook. Guttering and pipes fell to the street below. The wolf was only paint on mortar but it started to howl. Long mournful shrieks split the air. The moon dropped lower and lower until it seemed to touch the ground. "I'm coming!" roared Terni. He circled then hovered on a cloud of dragon breath. Skratch pulled everyone up and they huddled on the roof as debris whirled around them. "We could use a lift," shouted the Wabbit. Terni dropped lower and lower but the hurricane force swept him back and forth. The wolf howled louder and louder as the building started to crumble. "Better make it now!" shouted the Wabbit. Terni spat fire into the wind and, for an instant, carved a quiet space. One by one they jumped on his back and held onto his scales like grim death. "Where to?" breathed Terni. "High as you can go," yelled the Wabbit. Terni's wings tried to grip the turbulent air and he stuttered like a helicopter. It was touch and go. But the wind lost its grip for a moment and he shot skywards. The wolf's howls gradually became quieter. Far below them, the building and the city collapsed into a pile of dust. "Tidy that," muttered Lapinette.
Terni tore through the night with a message. He'd been sent to scout around but was interrupted by the weather. It was no ordinary weather and he was no ordinary dragon. With some justification, Terni considered himself a cut above most of his cohorts. The Wabbit had helped him relocate and recruited him to his team. Now he was officially a superdragon and took his responsibilities seriously. The following wind tore at his cabbage wings and pushed him forward at an incredible speed. "I have to get ahead of this wind," thought Terni. "I have to warn the Wabbit." Terni thought of food and his tummy rumbled. The resulting flatulent blast gave him an advantage and he gained ground. He kept low and skimmed across asphalt that had the colour of camels. Terni knew better than to look back because the wind was more than a wind. it was a swirling, jagged typhoon with teeth like a dinosaur. It seemed to be looking for something and for now it couldn't be bothered to destroy much. But it shrieked like a thousand banshees and swept cars into neat piles of junk. Terni saw Incontinentia looming, He wondered if maybe he should do something less dangerous - like taking Tipsy for a spin. He chortled quietly to himself. Peppery fire erupted into the bleak night air and lit the road ahead. "Hit it!" breathed Terni.