~*evil laughter* Okay, you guys asked for it! The sequel (well, continue-ation of) 'Lubricant Number 34'! . . . I realize that I've had to make this more. . . Action-y than it's prequel, but I hope you enjoy it just the same. :3 I'll try to upload this fic one chapter a day. . . And I hope to have completely finished it by the time I have to go to school, in the first week of September. . . Or before the new Lilo & Stitch movie ruins my innocence (they don't have the same art-style! :( ). Oh, and about the title. . . MPD stands for 'Multiple Personality Disorder', and I think that the reason for this title will become blatantly obvious in the next chapter.~

~Oh, and anything between [text] is Turian, okay?~

~Edit 11/21/03: I've edited the fic into an easier-to-read format; slightly bigger paragraphs, and smaller spaces between them, so it takes up less space. ^^ . . .Yes, I have a lot of free time, okay?~

Disclaimer: *coughs*Did you know that even with these things, all fanfics are technically illegal, unless we have the authors express permission to write 'em? . . . On with the fic!

*** *** ***

Ah. . . freedom. It was wonderful! You who are born free have no idea of the sheer. . . excitement of being captive all your life, then, suddenly, free. . . It gives great satisfaction, especially if it was you who did the freeing.

The liberty was almost tangible in the air as I leapt from my beautiful, but crushed police cruiser. I must admit, I did loose my head a bit. . .

I was 6-2-6!

I was the ultimate life-form!

. . . More importantly, I was free!

"Ooocha! Chabaga! Ooon-chi-chi! Hahahahahahaha-ha-ha!"

I scurried through the foliage of the unknown planet without caution. I realize now, how loud and, I must admit, unprofessional I was then. But, in my mind, I had no need of silence, not then, not now. . . Although I am capable of being more silent than the proverbial mouse. Anyway. . . the plants came to an abrupt halt. I leapt out onto a hard substance. . . It felt. . . Almost like some kind of rough metal beneath my paws. I had never seen such a thing in the lab. . . Not even on any training sims.  . . . It was too strait, too flat, to have been created naturally.

Could it be that there are intelligent life-forms living on this planet?

I took several deep sniffs with my extra-sensitive nose. Many unusual and unknown scents assailed my nostrils. I looked to both sides as I scuttled my cautiously forwards in this unknown environment. The hard substance beneath my foot-paws continued in two different directions as far as I could see. . .

Movement! With my lightning-fast reflexes, my bottom-right paw grabbed a blaster from its pocket and shot. I peered at my target. I knew I had hit it, but. . . there was nothing there.As soon as I bent my head to look. . . something hit me! Where did it come from?

. . . Above!

My upper left paw withdrew a second blaster from its pocket and shot upwards.

. . . Nothing.

To my confusion, many droplets poured down upon me. . .Oh,I had heard of this!

Rain! I hissed. The sims hadn't told me how unpleasant it was to have water coursing through my fur. . .

. . . Sound!

I drew another blaster with my other right arm, and aimed it at the source of the noise. . .a green creature less than half my size. A native? I hadn't any idea what planet I was on, but my guard was up now.

"[Tell me who you are!]" I spat in Turian. "Tell me! Tell me!]"

It didn't respond, even when I poked it in the head with a blaster. I didn't know it then, but that was the beginning of a long-lasting, meaningful, but degrading relationship. There was a rumble beneath my foot-paws.

So preoccupied was I with the native, I hadn't noticed the ground-based transport until it's lights shone upon me. I drew my remaining blaster and aimed them all at the approaching transport.

"[Halt, or face the concequ-]" I didn't get to finish my Turian threat. The transport didn't stop. It barely slowed down, even as it and two others ran run right over me. My blasters lay forgotten and crushed on the hard substance underfoot. My uniform never stood a chance.

'Disaster-proof' my ****, Jumba. . .

I barely heard the jabberings of the aliens from my position, jammed under some metal protrusion. One of my arms flopped down, and I lost consciousness.

When I next awoke, I had a horrible headache. I was so sore. . . Even my fur hurt down to the roots! But, that was forgotten as I heard a whimper less than four lengths away from me. I leapt up, drawing two of my blasters. . .

My paws came up with nothing.

Huh?

I patted my body, just to be sure. . . I wasn't wearing anything. . . Just like the natives that where currently huddled up in a corner of the room, mumbling something in a language unknown to me. I guessed that these were the ones that had brought me here. . . wherever 'here' was.

"[Who are you? Why am I here?]" Then, I added for good measure, "[Where am I?]" . . .I should have realized that they didn't understand Turian.  I then heard a voice. . . slightly different pitch, but it was much more similar to the sounds I'd heard before I lost consciousness than the whines of these creatures.

It was a simple matter to bend the flimsy metal bars holding me captive. I scuttled along the ceiling, cautiously, above the heads of the bizarre natives. . . Outside, it was only luck. . . or maybe my military training, that I looked down and saw the red light on my chest. I'd been in too many sims not to know what that meant. Somebody took several shots at me, all of which I avoided fairly easily. . . Jumba had trained me too well . . .Speaking of which, I heard his laugh, then voice. . . layered with disdain,

"So nice to see your pretty face again!"

". . . Jumba?" I muttered.

Now I was sure he didn't want me. . . He was shooting at me, after all! My military training took over, then, and I scurried inside the building I'd just left.

I was 6-2-6, and I wasn't to be trifled with!