The Wabbit clawed at the Mask. He was no longer in the church but in a cinema. Or so he thought. "Ha ha ha," laughed the Mask. The Wabbit's lips moved but he was no longer in control of them. He tried to get the Mask away from his face, but nothing worked. It was stuck like a ghastly shadow. "I know you evil spirits - and
you are one, Wabbit." The Wabbit said the words although he wanted to say something else entirely. But the Wabbit knew one thing. The Mask could read his thoughts. "I'm not the evil spirit you think," he thought, "I'm not even an Agent of Rabit." Three was a terrible cackle and the Wabbit realised he was the one who made it. "Perhaps I'm not the trickster you think I am," said the Mask, "Perhaps I'm a normal law-abiding citizen." The Wabbit hopped round and round the cinema. "Get out of my face, you monster!" he thought. The only response was a guffaw and the Wabbit's lips curved into a demonic smile. The Mask was in control of his face and mouth - but it wasn't in control of his arms. He rummaged under his fur for something useful. Everything he came across was useless. There was a pistol, a can opener and there was the lighter that started the whole business. Nothing useful. Until his paw came across a slim tube. The Wabbit smiled inwardly and tried not to think. It was something almost forgotten that he'd been saving since last Hallowe'en ...
