He realized he was lying on his back, and tried to sit up. Something bit into his wrists and ankles. Craning his neck, he saw that he was manacled to a stone slab in the center of the room. He also noticed a rack hanging on one wall, filled with a variety of sharp instruments--all of which bore disturbing reddish-black stains on the blades.

Suddenly, the memories came flooding back. He'd been part of a strike team that had been called in to infiltrate and neutralize an evil presence on Obilon 7. But they'd been ambushed near the mountaintop citadel of their target, and Kenobi had gotten hit by a stun bolt. But was he still on Obilon 7? And what about Master Qui-Gon and the others? Even as he pondered these question, the door to the chamber opened, and in walked a slim man in black clothes, roughly Qui-Gon's age. Scars criss-crossed his sallow face, and malice glittered in his eyes as he grinned at Kenobi.

"I see you've awoken, young padawan."

"You." Kenobi put every ounce of distaste he could into the word.

"Indeed." He stopped beside Kenobi, who struggled against his bonds. "Pitiful fool--you and your little task force had no idea who you were up against, did you? You thought to simply stroll into my domain--into my very fortress--and capture me?" He shook his head. "Now you shall pay the price for daring to challenge the one and only Gen'Eric Vill-ain."

"Do your worst, fiend," Kenobi said. "I'll never break."

"We'll see about that," Vill-ain said. He leaned over Kenobi, his head hovering a foot or so above Kenobi's face. He cleared his throat with a loud hawking sound, but didn't move. Kenobi braced himself .

Then it happened. Slowly, a bit of yellowish-white spittle began to seep out from between Vill-ain's lips. Kenobi watched in morbid fascination as it congealed, growing bigger and bigger--and then it began to descend. Slowly, oh so slowly, suspended on a streamer of rancid saliva, the glob of goo made its controlled plummet toward Kenobi's face, cruel, cruel gravity complicit in the torment.

Kenobi tried to turn away, but Vill-ain's hands grabbed his hair and held him pinned. Kenobi cursed himself for his perfect coif and vowed to shave his head like Master Windu if he ever got out of this.

The loogie touched his face, and it was all Kenobi could do not to scream. His flesh cringed from the touch. And then--when Kenobi thought he could take no more--it vanished, slurped back into Vill-ain's smirking mouth.

"You...you fiend," Kenobi shuddered.

Vill-ain grinned. "I know!" he said with barely contained glee.

Then the loogie came again. And again. It was on its fifth descent when Kenobi blacked out from the sheer horror of it.

When he came to, Kenobi found Vill-ain still standing nearby. From the position of the sunbeams coming through the windows, he couldn't have been unconscious for very long.

"Back for more?" Vill-ain rubbed his hands together.

"The others...what happened to them?" Kenobi asked.

Vill-ain gestured non-chalantly. "Oh, they got away. I've got my droids out hunting them down. Won't be long until they're joining you."

Well, at least there was the hope of a rescue, Kenobi thought. But would it come in time?

As if reading his thoughts, Vill-ain stepped closer, bringing one claw-like, jagged-nailed finger in front of Kenobi's eyes. Was he going to pluck Kenobi's eyes out? the padawan wondered. Claw his face?

Quick as a flash, the evil finger moved--into Vill-ain's mouth. Then the moistened finger shot back out and before Kenobi could react, it plunged into his right ear.

"Wet willy!" Vill-ain crowed, twisting the finger around and around.

Kenobi cried out with the shock of the violation. Was nothing sacred? By the Force, did this man's villainy know no ends?!

The left ear was next. Then the right ear again. Then the left. And then the torment ended as Kenobi slipped into blessed unconsciousness again.

He awoke again. Vill-ain, arms crossed on his chest, was leaning one hip against the slab on which Kenobi was shackled.

"I thought you Jedi were supposed to be tough," Vill-ain said. "But you keep passing out. Do you have low blood-sugar or something?"

Kenobi didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer--even though Master Qui-Gon had voiced the same concern. Why was everyone so freakin' worried about his diet?

"Well, nevermind," Vill-ain waved it away. "We've got all the time in the world."

With that, he reached forward with both hands, grabbed the front of Kenobi's tunic and ripped the fabric open with a mighty pull. His hands came slowly towards the padawan's exposed chest, and he began to pinch his index fingers and thumbs together in the air.

Understanding--and horror--dawned on Kenobi.

"No," Kenobi rasped. "You can't--!"

Vill-ain's pincing fingers shot forward. "Purple nurple!!!"

The pain exploded in Kenobi's chest, radiating outward in a shockwave of agony. He writhed and screamed--and this time sweet darkness never claimed him. He was forced to endure what seemed an eternity of pain. When the pain finally stopped, Kenobi sagged, sweating and gasping.

Vill-ain began to pace, tapping one finger thoughtfully against his chin. "What next, what next...?" he mused aloud.

"You can't do any more," Kenobi croaked. "It's against the rules."

"What are you babbling about, Jedi?" Vill-ain scowled.

"Only three torture incidents allowed," Kenobi said. "Rules of Engagement, page 324, paragraph 2."

Vill-ain scowled, and pulled a small black book from his back pocket. He flipped through the pages, then ran a finger down one page until he found the entry he was seeking. A moment later, his scowl darkened.

"What the hell is *this* all about?" he snapped.

Kenobi managed a triumphant grin. "Rules are rules."

Vill-ain threw the book to the floor and began to pace again. "Well, what am I supposed to do now? Huh?"

"You could always let me go," Kenobi offered.

Vill-ain ignored him. "I mean, come on! Torture's what I do! When I can't think of any new ideas, I've always been able to fall back on torture--it's a proven winner! Frankly I've gotten so caught up in it, I can't even remember what my motivations are..."

"Sorry," Kenobi said. "Not my problem."

Vill-ain stopped pacing, and speared Kenobi with an icy stare. "You know what? Screw the rules. I don't want to--y'know--actually think of something different, so I'm going for torture incident number four. Who's to stop me?"

Vill-ain took two steps toward Kenobi, grinning evilly, and suddenly, as if from nowhere, a titanic blue flash of lighting hit him. The torturer gave a cry, and his charred corpse tumbled to the ground.

Kenobi closed his eyes. "Thank you, Mod," he breathed.

Now he just had to find a way to get free of his bonds and escape.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the sounds of nearby explosions reached him, and the building began to rumble, grit and grime sifting down from the ceiling. He heard blaster shots, and the distinctive whine of blaster bolts being deflected--by lightsabers! They'd come to rescue him! He was saved!

Sure enough, moments later the sounds of fighting ceased and Master Qui-Gon and the Jedi strike team appeared in the doorway. Kenobi watched them pour in with unmitigated relief.

And suddenly, among their number, there she was--his radiant goddess! The young female Jedi he'd gone through training with was looking this way and that, her perfect golden tresses swirling in the dusty air. He regretted now that he'd never recognized her perfection until now. Why hadn't he seen how wonderful she was before? Why had he wasted so much time arguing and bickering with her? The pain had opened his eyes, and now things would be different! He swore to cherish her for the rest of his days.

Soon, she'd see him in this wretched state, and realize the depths of her feelings for him, too--he had no doubt. Then she'd clutch him to her comforting--and frankly quite extraordinary--bosom, gently stroking his hair and whispering soothing words while he poured out his manly anguish. He might even get to cop a feel!

Now if he could just remember her name...

She saw him, and came over. Kenobi braced himself for the flood of sympathy and love, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

She shook her head.

"Suck it up, Kenobi," she scowled. "Don't be such a wuss."

Kenobi watched her walk away, and wept his sensitively masculine tears.

Oh, the TORTURE!

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