"Excuse me! Pardon me! Very sorry! Coming through! Oh, I like your hat! Where did you--"

"DAVE!"

"Right, yes, sorry, very busy, must be moving!"

D4-V3  rushed through the light crowd of industry workers just getting off one of their ludicrously long shifts, Doctor Wheatley Ubbit cradled in his large metallic arms. The Doctor look more annoyed than hurt, though his right wrist was limp, cradled under his left arm.

His new base of operations was even more dank, unkempt, and out of the way than his previous lab. He probably hadn't even needed to ditch the old one - though Tihan had vowed never to help him again, he doubted she would go out of her way to stop him. Still, there was no point in getting careless.

But that's exactly what he had been, hadn't he? Careless. He was supposed to be so calm, calculating, always evaluating the best and safest route to personal gain so as not to be caught with his proverbial pants around his proverbial ankles. Trying to broker a deal with those crazy Sith perverts...what was he thinking?

...What had he been thinking? Ubbit was used to others not quite following his often convoluted trains of thought, but he had always felt secure within his own brain. Now, though, he was starting to have doubts. Doubts that all of his thoughts were entirely his own.

Dave hustled into the trash-strewn alcove Ubbit had set up as his temporary home. Nobody in the area ever particularly wanted to be here; they were either rushing to or from work, paying no mind to the nooks and crannies of abandoned buildings. He doubted anyone would be able to track him down here. Nor would they find his valuables kept inside.

"Put me down--" Ubbit began, and Dave immediately dumped Ubbit onto the dusty floor. "--Over by my desk," Ubbit finished, writhing on the ground. "Auggh."

"Sorry!" Dave gasped, his voice overwhelmed with genuine concern. "Here, let me--"

"No, I can do it myself, you obtuse hunk of scrap metal!" Ubbit snapped, pushing himself up with his good hand and hobbling over to his desk where his more common medical supplies were stashed. He sat down at the table and pulled open a drawer, taking out some stabilizing adhesive. Thankfully he had made it out with just a simple fracture - he had no doubt that Sith could've done worse. He could be dead right now, and for what? Stupid, stupid.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead from the pain of holding his wrist straight, as he carefully applied the healing gel. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in rapt concentration, then promptly jumped out of his seat in terror when a voice nearby said, "hi!"

"What?" he asked, spinning around to face the bound Twi'lek girl strapped to a gurney in the corner of the room.

"I'm awake," she said. "Hi."

"Dave," Ubbit snarled, feeling himself break out into a new wave of sweat. "Administer more sedatives to--"

"No!" the girl yelped. "I don't like the sedatives. I'm not going to escape. I promise. What happened to your hand?"

Ubbit stared at her, trying to figure out her game. What was she hoping to gain with this deception? He glared at her freckled yellow face and wide, purple eyes for several moments before realizing the question was genuine. And that, for whatever reason, enraged him. He stormed over and grabbed her head with his good hand.

"Do you know what a Twi'lek brain looks like?" he whispered. "It's quite interesting, you see, because most species have the good graces to keep their nervous system contained on the inside of their body. Somewhere along the line of Twi'lek evolution, your brains sprouted stems that wrap around the outside of your head. A pulsating, blue mass, leaking down your back, containing every sensation you've ever felt." And, he added to himself, the key to what makes you a Jedi. I just know it. He began to run his fingers down one of her lekku, causing her to flinch somewhat. "Now why don't you be quiet, before I make some of those sensations decidedly unpleasant?"

He released her and moved back to his desk.

Why did you do that?

"Do what?" Ubbit growled.

You don't need to torture her. This is science! For goodness sake, you're a doctor! She may be an unwitting participant, but this is for the greater good! Not for your sick amusement, like some Sith!

Ubbit paused. Who was he talking to? Himself? Which one was him?

"Dave, bring me the artifact."

Dave quickly went to a sealed lock box hidden along the lining of the wall, typed in the passcode "D4V3 RU135," and pulled out a pulsating black and red statuette, escorting it over to Ubbit.

The Doctor looked at it for a moment, slowly reaching out a hand to caress it.

Maybe a little bit of torture wouldn't hurt. Well, wouldn't hurt you.