Copcar was, once again, in the caverns. He didn't mind them at all, but he wasn't sure they were his favorite place. He wasn't sure he had a favorite place, but he knew that he kept meeting Firetruck here, and that was, well. He didn't want that. Really, he didn't. It was the only time they'd ever seen each other, when Copcar had been PERFECTLY CAPABLE of finding his own way out but had, instead, been "rescued" by Firetruck.

He knew that Firetruck must not see him as a worthwhile opponent (what they were competing in was not entirely clear to the black choleric, but he was sure he could figure something out), as he'd needed to be rescue and strong, capable people don't need to be rescued, ever. Ever. A capable and strong person should be able to take care of themself in any kind of circumstance, regardless of the danger and what was going on. Falling asleep in a field of poppies? Rescue yourself. Get turned around in the market? Rescue yourself.

Fighting a dragon? Rescue your mung beetle self.

Copcar could usually rescue himself - especially when lost in the market - but now Firetruck would never believe him. Gah! It wasn't fair.

He suddenly realized he was in a room, swept clear and with words written on the floor. Hm. Galatea? Probably someone asking for help.

What a poor, unfortunate, weak individual.