They hopped along a gas-mask lined corridor, glancing from right to left. The Wabbit stopped and pulled a video tape box from his fur. He tucked it under his paw and gritting his 28 teeth, rounded the corner. "That's as far as you go, rabbit." The voice went with the gas-masked figure. It spoke with a heavy rhythmic hiss accompanied by a whoosh, click and flutter. Lapinette pointed her weapon. "Stand down, robotic figure." The figure snarled. "I stand down for no-one." Lapinette stood her ground. Pointed her weapon. "Suit yourself. It will be the worse for you." It was the first time the Wabbit noticed the French accent that came with her growl. "You
will give me the box!" The Wabbit smiled in a way that everyone found annoying. "I cannot." "Why not?" The Wabbit paused and touched the grey case. "Did you ever hear the story of the old empty box?" The figure tensed, stem jetting from the mask. "No, I did not." The Wabbit shrugged. "There was nothing in it." The figure lunged forward. "Give me it anyway." Silence hung, broken only by the mask's respirated hiss. "I think I'll keep it," said the Wabbit. He tucked it back in his fur. The figure wheezed, turned, grabbed for it. Lapinette's snaser spat. The figure's suit collapsed, an empty shell on the ground. Rows of vacant masks watched from the shelves. "They're brainstorming," grinned the Wabbit.
