It was a brightly lit control room. In the middle fluttered a Nazi flag and under it, the Wabbit saw Agents of Rabit going about some ghastly business. "Nazi Agents of Rabit," muttered the Wabbit under his breath, "The worst kind." The Wabbit saw his opportunity and edged along a ledge designed for a projection screen. The Agents of Rabit were busy making plans and looking at maps and failed to notice him. But the Wabbit realised he'd severely miscalculated the ability of the ledge to take his weight. It began to bend. As it flexed it let out a horrifying screech of tortured metal. The Wabbit lost his grip and tried to grasp the flag but to no avail. The Agents looked up. His automatic fell out of his fur. Everything was going wrong. He crashed to the floor and looked up at the Agents. It was worth a try "Flag inspection," he said. The Agents were stupid but not that stupid. He tried again. "Awfully neat but significant fraying at the edges." Three Agents picked his up and pushed him around. "What are you doing here?" said one. "How do you know this place?" said another. Yet another howled. "How did you get access to the secret bunker?" The Wabbit remained cheerful. "I was taking a constitutional hop and stumbled upon it by accident." The leader slapped him with force. Then pressed a button and a panel slid back. "Put him in there. The rats will gnaw his fur and when they've finished, he'll be ready to talk." The Wabbit grimaced. "At least they won't rat me out."