The Wabbit had no intention of leaving, so they hopped through the back streets in search of answers. But there was no sign of the figure and still, nothing looked right. "This looks like Milan," said Lapinette. The Wabbit shook his head and grumbled. "Pssst!" said a voice. The Wabbit shrugged and murmured, "No more surprises." Followed by Lapinette, he continued on his way - but Wabsworth hung back. A branch cracked above him. Something dropped from a tree, landed with considerable grace and purred gently. "What's going down?" meaowed Skratch. "You are," grinned Wabsworth. He beckoned the others. "What are you doing here, Skratch?" "Instinct," replied Skratch, "I felt impelled to travel here." "We seem to be caught in a game," explained Wabsworth. "Ah, said Skratch, "then what I saw was a player. It looked a bit like you, Wabbit." "Our adversary," said Lapinette. The Wabbit hopped up to Skratch. "How do we get out of the game?" Skratch purred gently. "We win the game! Let's get him." The Wabbit wasn't happy. He prodded Wabsworth. "What are our strategic options?" Wabsworth's circuits whirred. "We force our opponent to leave the game. Where did you see him?" "The railway station," said Skratch. "Perfect," said Wabsworth, "He doesn't have to go far ..."
