Suddenly, the loudspeaker came on again. This time, though, it was not The Rabbit's voice. Instead, it was a deep and gravely voice. It was clear that the man was large and muscular, even without seeing him. 

"I believe that you were given masks for a reason. Surely the Last Lance wouldn't do that, would you, [i]'Wilhelm'[/i]? Watch your words carefully. Very. Carefully."

The speaker went off with a click before something even more frightening happened. 

A horrific scratching sound filled the room, so loud that it quite literally pained the ears. On the western wall, a large tally mark was being etched into the beautiful wood. Just above it, there were words being formed as well. 

[b]Strike:
I[/b]

[hr]

The Rabbit had taken the long way, and stood in one of the side-rooms, listening against the door. His ears brushed against the cold wood. This room hadn't been touched in years. The Rabbit heard the scratching on the wood, and a slight smirk came over his lips. 

"It's working," he whispered to himself, and laughed a laugh that only a madman could.