3. The Wabbit of the Lake

The Wabbit just had time to make a connection with Lapinette when the radio crackled, and an enormous force pulled him into the water. He lost grip of his radio. All he could see was bubbles. Tangles of reeds swept across his face. He gulped and held his breath. Things became clearer. He wasn't alone. He could see the old mechanism from inside the box floating in front of him. A giant turtle was pushing it along. He blinked. There was another creature - a smaller turtle. It scraped the outside of his glasses and mouthed something. The Wabbit couldn't believe it could speak under water, but he heard it. "Commander Wabbit, Commander Wabbit." The Wabbit could only think - but somehow his thoughts reached out to the turtle "What the binky is going on?"  The turtle flapped his flippers. "We're trapped by the mechanism from the box. You met the box before." The Wabbit looked quizzical. "It collects things for the box," said the turtle, " We're just acquisitions." The Wabbit floated around and retrieved his radio. "So what's with the water?" thought the Wabbit. "It's a projection," said the turtle, "It's part of our thoughts. But it's real enough." The Wabbit's brain thought he could hear his radio crackling. It was Lapinette. "Come in Commander." The Wabbit shrugged as best he could and thought, "Wabbit receiving." Lapinette sounded far away. "You sound as if you're under water." The Wabbit thought as loud he could but it only came out as blub blub blub. "On our way," said Lapinette.

2. The Wabbit on the Bridge

The Agent's skip was enormous but the Wabbit gritted his teeth and carried on. A bridge over an ornamental lake loomed and the Agent made his way across. It was a large lake and had equally large turtles swimming there. The Agent paused and looked over the side. Now the Wabbit could see what he had in his paw. The thing that the Agent picked up in the market was a mechanism from the interior of a magic box. The Wabbit had discovered the box in Turin, and he knew it was trouble. It wasn't dangerous. At least he didn't think so. But he'd thrown the box in the River Po and thought that was the end to the matter. As the box sank, he'd heard it say, "I'll be back and I'll get you, Wabbit." The Wabbit chased on. The Agent gazed at the water. Then he lifted the object. "No!" thought the Wabbit. "Not the water." The Agent's paw drew back. He'd had second thoughts. But the key in the mechanism began to turn. Startled, the Agent dropped the mechanism onto the wooden boards - and then he kicked it far out into the water. The Wabbit saw a turtle heading for it. A threshing ensued, then the turtle snatched the mechanism. The lake swirled into a whirlpool, and it grabbed both the turtle and the mechanism. Then the vortex sucked them into a maelstrom. The Agent watched with open-mouthed horror and began to skip away. The Wabbit didn't know whether to chase the mechanism or the Agent, but both had vanished. He dug in his fur for his radio to call Lapinette.

1. The Wabbit and Market Chaos

The Wabbit was doing one of the things he liked best. He was carrying out surveillance. He was near a market somewhere and could never quite recall what it was called. He just remembered the name was far too long. He'd been searching for an unobtainable item when an Agent of Rabit passed. This was unusual. It was the Wabbit's territory, and they never came near. He sidled round a corner to watch. The Agent passed as if he was in a daze. His eyes were red, and the pupils resembled cones. The Wabbit grimaced. Agents didn't look great anyway and the ghastly eyes made things worse. The Wabbit glanced round a corner. The market was chaotic, and its graffiti was lurid as could be. So the Agent blended in like a bad trip. The Wabbit was puzzled. "Now what are you up to?" he murmured to himself. The Agent stopped. So did the Wabbit. The Agent looked from side to side. Having decided he was unobserved, he picked something up from the back of a market stall and sauntered on his way. He hummed through clenched teeth and began to skip. Before long he was out of the market and halfway towards the big park. It was a fast skip, and he could cover quite a distance at a single lope. The Wabbit couldn't both keep up and remain unobserved. He broke cover and bounded after him. His adversary noticed and moved into the park at enormous speed. Then he seemed to shimmer and vanish. "He's gone into Villa Pamphili!" groaned the Wabbit. "I'll never find him."

The Wabbit goes to his Adventure Caffè

The Wabbit was feeling jolly by the sea. Little did he know his team was following him. He jumped on and off the wall in merriment and glee. Lapinette was right behind him and so was everyone else. It was the day of the Artichoke Festival and they all felt full of beans. "Wabbit!" shouted Skratch. He was right at the back. "What was that for a sort of Adventure?" The Wabbit didn't move a hair of fur. He continued perambulating. But Lapinette could see there was a twitch of his ears. "Tell us O Great One, what adventure did you have on your own?" Wabsworth leaned in. "Tell us or we won't buy you a Prosecco!" Now the Wabbit looked back and smiled. "It was a cult phantasy concerning Nazis and Rats," he exclaimed. "Come, come, Wabbit," meaowed Skratch, "It was an attempt to engage with seriality." Lapinette bounced on and off the wall. "It was almost an extension of trans-medial narratology." Wabsworth scoffed. "It wasn't that innovative. You were a modern Arthurian knight, playing with the moral values of a time long gone." The Wabbit smiled. "Time has passed me by?" Everyone shouted, "And so shall we!" They all laughed. Skratch meaowed again. "What of this Spritz with fried artichokes?" The Wabbit rocked with mirth. "Fritto, fritto fritto!" Wabsworth looked at the sign. "It's a good price." Lapinette shook her head. "Thirteen euro inclusive? I've seen better." The Wabbit shrugged and put on a Sean Connery voice. "Itsh on the she front. Time for a shellabration!"

10. The Wabbit Makes an Exit

With no more explosives left, the Wabbit jumped back in the jeep. Grey Rat throttled up and headed for the far off-chink of light at the end of the tunnel. Black rats converged from either side and ran beside the jeep in an unholy rodent escort. Gates loomed ahead. The Wabbit thought they looked sturdy but Grey Rat had the bit between his teeth. He pushed the accelerator to the bare metal of the floor. The jeep surged forward. The Wabbit braced for impact but the padlocks securing the doors were old and rusty. They disintegrated easily and the doors shot outwards. Behind them, explosions went off on by one. The tunnel collapsed. Bunkers, missiles and radioactive mines were buried in a heap of concrete rubble. And so were the Nazis. The Wabbit and Grey Rat hit the ground rolling. The jeep ran on for a bit, then wheezed to a halt. Black rats spread out happily across the mountainside and were gone. "Good driving, Grey Rat," said the Wabbit. They watched as steam curled from the Jeep's radiator. "It requires an overhaul," said Grey Rat. The Wabbit thought it needed more than that. "What about these Nazis?" said Grey Rat. The Wabbit pondered for a bit. "They'll have to content themselves with throwing bricks." "Ah yes," said Grey Rat, "and the others will stand and shout Boom!"

9. The Wabbit and the Army Explosives

Grey Rat arrived with a jeep that had seen better days. As it jolted to a halt, the Wabbit wrinkled his nose. But he shrugged. "It's what we have," he muttered. He'd found more boxes. Enough to mine the whole corridor. Grey rat's voice was muffled from inside the jeep. "I suppose we'd better find a new home." The Wabbit panted from the weight of the box. "Plenty more hospitable than here." He looked behind at the line of boxes. He jumped back in the jeep as it lurched toward the next opening. "How long have you been here?" he asked. "Years," said the Rat. "And our Nazi familiars?" sneered the Wabbit. "Since the Cold War," replied the Rat. "You've lived a long life," said the Wabbit. "It's the stuff in the cans," responded the Rat. The jeep made a lot of noise as it careered along the tunnel. Its big end bearings had worn out years ago. Every time Rat stamped on the brakes it pulled to the left. The steering wheel shook and wobbled in a death rattle. But it still motored on. The Wabbit left box after box at every gap in the tunnel. "Where's the way out?" Grey Rat gestured ahead. The Wabbit saw an iron gate and some chinks of light. "What about your pal, Black Rat?" Grey Rat laughed. "He's on his way." He paused. "He's bringing all his pals." Now the Wabbit laughed. "I'm Der Rattenfänger of the Bunkers." The Grey Rat giggled. "The Nazis won't know where we've gone. And then what?"  The Wabbit bared every one of his 28 teeth. "Kaboom!" he grunted.

8. The Wabbit and the Radiation Suits

The Wabbit was horrified. Radiation suits hung in a tunnel alcove. Barrels of radioactive liquid lay ready. But for what? Black Rat hovered by a barrel. "It's quite yummy," he said. "That's how we get so big," The Wabbit's fur stood on end. He groaned and covered his eyes with a paw. Grey Rat did the same. He knew Black Rat was fairly clueless. "I thought you could put on one of these suits and make your escape." The Wabbit groaned again. "And no-one would ever notice me." He paced up and down. If the Agents are going to launch a radioactive attack, we have to stop them. Everyone and everything is in peril." The Wabbit looked around. "What's in that box?" "That one?" said Grey Rat, "It's only TNT. Smells OK. Doesn't taste very nice." The Wabbit was familiar with TNT. "Got blasting caps?" Grey Rat nodded. "Boxes of all manner of stuff." The Wabbit was happier than he had been. "Let's get to work!" He lifted the box and carried it to a nearby bench. More boxes on the shelves behind it contained an assortment of items, including blasting caps. He spoke to Grey Rat. "We need transport." Grey Rat nodded to further up the tunnel. "There's a jeep there." "Get it!" said the Wabbit. "I haven't got a driving license," shrugged Grey Rat. "Walk on the wild side. It's an emergency," replied the Wabbit. Black Rat spoke up. "Emergencies don't happen to rats." "There's a first time for everything," snapped the Wabbit.

7. The Wabbit and the Intelligence of Rats

The Wabbit staggered into the cellar a little the worse for wear. When his eyes grew accustomed to the light, there were rats as promised. One was gnawing on bread. "They feed you here?" asked the Wabbit. The rat looked up. "Why do you think we tolerate them?" The other rat chuckled. The Wabbit chuckled too. "You look like a train hit you," said the Grey Rat. "Just a scratch." The Wabbit felt wobbly nonetheless. "Sit down and have some bread." The Wabbit was peckish so he didn't care. He crouched down and had a nibble. "Is this your gun?" said the Rat. "Ah that's where it is." The Wabbit was relieved to find it. "You should always keep the safety catch on," said the Rat, "It could go off at any second." The Wabbit nodded. "I was relying on it." He slipped it into his fur. "Ready for action," he whispered. "If you must," said the Grey Rat. "Wanna get out?" The Black Rat was insistent and the Wabbit nodded his assent. The Black Rat disappeared through an opening, but the Wabbit couldn't get through. So he gave it a kicking. Bricks and plaster flew. "Subtle," grunted the Grey Rat. The hole widened and allowed the Wabbit and the Grey Rat to step into a wide corridor. The Black Rat scurried round a corner. They could hear the murmuring of voices. "Our Lords and Masters," sneered the Grey Rat. The Black Rat popped his head round the corner. "Imbeciles," he commented. He beckoned for the others to follow. The Wabbit was seldom astonished, but this time...
[Grey Rat by Karsten Paulick.]

6. The Wabbit and the Bunker Rats

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."

5. The Wabbit and the Listening Devices

The Wabbit crept along one of the corridors. It was lined with tape recorders and the many headphones and no microphones were a giveaway. "These aren't for listening to Spitify." The Wabbit always mispronounced things and he wasn't going to change. "This is a surveillance operation," he muttered. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper that echoed down the corridor. He picked up a pair of headphones and examined it. He was puzzled. It was the only pair that was new. A tape recorder began to hum. Spools began turn. He held a speaker up to one ear. He heard voices from a different control room and could catch fragments of an unknown foreign language. He pulled up a metal chair and using the word recognition system implanted in his ears, he concentrated. There were three voices talking about an attack on the Department of Wabbit Affairs. For a moment he thought he recognised the signature accents of the Agents of Rabit. It was when he realised it wasn't a foreign language at all. They were talking in code. He shook his head. He wasn't going to crack it there and then. He dug in his fur and pulled out his automatic. The safety catch on his old gun had broken off so he had to remember to switch this one to fire. He sneaked along the corridor towards what seemed like the entrance to a large bunker area. Saw bright lights and concrete. Heard more voices. He flattened his back against a wall, gripped his automatic - and waited.

4. The Wabbit and the Abandoned Tunnel

The Wabbit was gripped by an immense force he couldn't control and then violently thrust through the hole in a building made by the first missile. The force gripped him like an iron glove and pulled him through tunnel after tunnel. A stale smell of damp like a long-forgotten building filled his nostrils. He was dragged over cement floors and rubble. He came to a stop. He sneezed. He was covered in enough dust to bake a concrete cake. "What is this place?" mused the Wabbit. There was no-one to hear him, but the soft twanging noise made him look at the forest of steel bars emerging from the walls. He dusted himself off. "This seems like a bunker," thought the Wabbit. He pondered longer. "A nuclear bunker." The Wabbit thought again. "To protect from a nuclear attack? Or to make one?" He glanced at a stairway to his rear. "Maybe that will tell me." An orange glow lit the stairs. A low hum came from the upper level. He picked his way over dust and metal and lumps of concrete until he came to the bottom of the stairs. On the upper level he could see many rooms and a corridor lined with computers. They clicked and whirred. "That's where the noise come from," thought the Wabbit, "but why aren't they blocked with dust?" They were old, but functional enough. He felt in his fur for his radio, but there was no signal. The Wabbit scowled and looked around again. Then with a great deal of caution he began to climb the stairs...

3. The Wabbit and the Rusty Missiles.

The Wabbit did what he usually did and started to run. He scurried through the buildings and when he came to a narrow walkway he chanced a look back. It was an astonishing sight. Nuts and bolts had vanished. In their place were three rusty missiles. He took off at an even greater rate. The missiles might be rusty, but they often were. An article on corrosion in missiles flashed through his head, but he just couldn't remember. He hopped faster than any rabbit was able to hop. The missiles kept coming. No matter how much cunning he employed, the missiles followed him. He dodged this way and that. He swerved, he veered, he turned cartwheels. He made some ground and grinned. "You want me, then first you have to catch me." He cartwheeled from the walkway and back on again. The first missile hit a parapet and exploded, shattering walls and collapsing ancient buildings. "One down," muttered the Wabbit. Just up ahead a wall cut across the walkway. The Wabbit bounced from it at speed, just as the second missile smashed against the brickwork. The Wabbit shrugged off rubble as he sprinted the other way. He feinted to the right as the last missile grazed his heels then came to a sudden halt. The missile didn't. What was left of a gasometer crashed lazily to the ground and buried the missile in a tangle of twisted metal. The Wabbit surveyed the scene. His head glanced from left to right. His nose twitched. There were no more missiles. But he knew it wasn't over...  

2. The Wabbit and the Leaden Sky

The Wabbit wasn't sure what the old gantries were for. Loading something maybe? The Wabbit imagined something nice being loaded on barges. Coffee or candy maybe? But their time was long past. He was reflecting on the matter when the weather changed. It hadn't been a great day, but the sky turned a leaden orange and everything became post nuclear, contrasty and sharp. All was quiet. No traffic noises. People ceased chattering. Birds stopped singing. Then he heard it, up high in the air. A tinny jangling. A grating of metal on metal. Bolting and screwing. Then they were on him. "What the binky!" exclaimed the Wabbit. One of the bolts hit his back. Anther grazed his chin. He lost his footing on a sharp metallic cylinder. The Wabbit kicked out and fended the metal objects off as best he could. Then he dived for cover. They weren't just attacking the Wabbit. They made for anything vaguely mechanical. Cars, bicycles, prams and scooters - all took a hammering. They were out to destroy, and little could stop them. The Wabbit sheltered under a nonmetallic board and watched them. He tried to formulate a plan, but everything seemed fanciful. The bolts weren't all rust-covered. Some looked new. A few remained straight and others bent and squirmed like worms. The Wabbit searched in his fur for his radio then thought better of it. It might be compromised. "Only me here," he murmured, "and just at the moment I've got no clue."

[Nuts and bolts by Piro4D at Pixabay]

1. The Wabbit and the Old Iron Bridge

The Wabbit was taking a constitutional hop across the old iron bridge. It was called Ponte dell'Industria, but, like many others, the Wabbit knew it as the iron bridge and he didn't see why he should change. It had taken some recent damage. A fire had nearly consumed it and the Wabbit surveyed the bent girders and scorching. He was pleased to see it was mostly repaired. He looked along the Tiber. The area hadn't changed much. In some bits it seemed quite grotty, but a cheerful ethnic mix ensured it was as vibrant as it had been. Rome was a strange mixture of urban and rural and while the Wabbit definitely preferred urban, he accepted the city as it was. Then he spotted a strange piece of iron lying on a repaired bridge segment and for a moment he stretched out a paw. Then he drew it back. It was the kind of thing that always seemed to get him into trouble. He looked to see where it might have fitted, but it could have been anywhere. Maybe a workman had left it behind. There were a mixture of iron plates and nuts and bolts and rivets. He admired the rusty orange colours of all the sections. Way down below, the Tiber churned its way to the sea. "How well Horatius kept the bridge. In the brave days of old," murmured the Wabbit. "He was the oldiest," he added to himself. He sniggered and made his way over the bridge to Via Antonio Pacinotti. But something was following him ...
[Quote from Horace: A lay made about the year of the city. CCCLX]

The Wabbit at his Adventure Caffè

The team gathered at the Glamour Caffè. The Wabbit always wondered why it was named Glamour, because it was rather functional and plain. But the service was good, and it did an excellent prosecco. He dropped into a seat and was just about to order when the rest of the team arrived. "There you are Wabbit!" proclaimed Lapinette. "In your usual seat I see." The traffic was fierce and the spot was far from quiet. The Wabbit had to raise his voice. "I love the smell of gasoline in the morning," he said. He waved for four proseccos. "Wabsworth smiled a crooked smile. "What was that for a sort of adventure you just had?" Skratch arrived at the back and half sat on a table. "That's my job, especially since I was in it." Lapinette laughed. "It's the job of all of us to deconstruct the story." Skratch meaowed. "I am the one who went to classes." Wabsworth chipped in. "Everyone went to classes except me. I learned everything from archives." The Wabbit was getting tired of all this flim-flam. "It was an attempt to link with the past in an autobiographical fashion. More of a mythmaking exercise." Lapinette agreed. "A manipulation of space and time." Skratch nodded. "It refined the pictorial syntax of the reader." The Wabbit snorted. "Didn't we do well?" Lapinette agreed. "I think we did well to stay alive." They fell silent for a while. "If I had a glass I'd raise it to the re-envisaged past," said the Wabbit. Wabsworth turned to the bar and signalled frantically. "Life can only be understood forwards but it must be lived backwards." "Wrong way round," smiled Lapinette. "I'm trying to make the drinks happen," said Wabsworth.