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"No, but there's about to be," Vee-Threepio said without missing a beat. There was glee in his robotic voice that hadn't left since he'd finished torturing the Weequay. Preef's defense of Vanessa had barely registered. The droid's mind was already on the murders ahead of him. The speeder sailed...

"Oh, you don't want to wait on me to take an oil bath, sir," Vee-Threepio replied. He couldn't feel the fresh air beyond the ship the way Preef could, but he acted refreshed all the same. "Besides, all of the equipment for that is back at my ship. A longer walk. We should proceed to the target...

Vee-Threepio made a sound like a sigh. That was entirely too easy. He liked it when his victims made him work for his prize, but the protocol droid had barely begun to have fun with this Weequay. Exacerbated, he turned and looked back towards where Preef had gone. Surely the Rodian had heard the...

Vee-Threepio made a sound that was something like a Pssh, but whether it was static in his vocabulator or the droid actually expressing disbelief was not known. "Do you really think that unwashed simpleton has enough credits to pay for my service? Hardly. Besides, Artoo and I are not in it for...

Vee-Threepio was indignant himself. The black droid did not like having his methods questioned. "I will have you know that torture is a process, Master Preef," the droid shouted after the Rodian as the green-skinned alien marched out of the room. "You start at something small, but painful, like...

"Oh my!" Vee-Threepio exclaimed excitedly. "Such vitriol! This is precisely why I enjoy torturing organics so much. They always get so testy once I begin to dissect them! I wonder what he will say next, Artoo." Threepio used the fusion torch to completely cleave off the three frills on the...

Vee-Threepio was about as happy as a droid could be. Why, if he had lips, he might've kissed Preef. It had been too terribly long since he had last tortured an organic for information; and, while he was displeased this torture session wouldn't end in a murder, he wasn't about to complain about...

"The horror," Vee-Threepio complained upon eyeing the flee market. Everything about this planet was sending thrills down his circuits—and not the good kind, either. "Why, I've never seen a better incubation nest for all the vilest viruses in the galaxy than that flea market." Next to Threepio...

The lift stopped on the first floor, swishing open to vomit out its occupants. Led by Vee-Threepio, the trio of bounty hunters made their way through the main hall of the Corellian bank. As they passed, the eyes of the gnomish bank tellers followed them; but Veepee and Artoo had no sense of...

"As a matter of fact, I don't know that you're hiding or why," Vee-Threepio replied. He was entirely oblivious. For all his programming on etiquette and customs, individual nuance was entirely beyond him and he wouldn't much care even if the programming did exist. "And whatever do you mean 'not...

The Muun banker didn't look convinced. "You're a terrible orator. Mandalorians break things when they 'get things done.' And those things end up costing beings like me a whole lot of credits." Vee-Threepio said, "Oh, I quite agree, sir. She is a terrible speaker. Even worse liar, if I might...

"What do you want?" The Muun bank director, apparently named Koba, asked. If Threepio could've blinked, he would have. "I thought we were already on the same page about that one." "Yes, yes, the girl. But you don't need me to find a girl. You came to me for a reason. What do you want? Credits...

"That is your ship?" Vee-Threepio said when they reached te docking bay that contained Preef's 578-R space transport. "It looks marginally more dreadful than our own." Amidst the droid's complaints, it actually assisted Preef in hauling their captive on board. And, when that was done, all that...

It was fairly easy to get Meta out of the room and to the turbolift without incident. No one seemed to have heard the commotion and come out to check. Of course, Vee-Threepio had done more than drag Meta out of the room. He had also taken it upon himself to snatch the credit chips off the table...

The secretary was easily the second most stunningly ugly being Vee-Threepio had ever laid his photoreceptors on. She was a cross between an Amazon princess, a slug, and a drag queen what with all her jewelry and makeup; and that wasn't even to mention her voice, which was a horrid drawl...

But the Latero wasn't having it: "Well, that's too kriffin' bad, isn't it?" he said. "No amount of affirmative action would save my hide if I gave highly-classified company information out to a bucket head and two droids." Behind her, Song might simultaneously hear Vee-Threepio mutter to...

"How fortunate that we have a place to stash him right here," said Vee-Threepio. The droid opened up a vent hatch along the floor of the turbolift, dropped the Weequay into it, and stepped out of the lift with its counterpart. The droid doubted the fall would kill him, so— "Artoo, would you do...

"And you surprise me, Mandalorian," Vee-Threepio said in what basically amounted to sarcasm for a droid. "Everything I know about your people suggests that you are warriors, and yet you gave up the fun so easily." The droid retracted its weapons. "Disappointing, I must say." "Fortunately for...

Both droids stopped in their tracks. After an uncomfortable beat of silence, it was Vee-Threepio that said, "Mandalorian, are you familiar with what happens to the fleshy exterior of human faces, such as your own, when extreme heat — like, say, from a flamethrower — is applied to the metal...

"It's a long shot, sir, but perhaps the other Chevins haven't informed this particular establishment about Artoo and myself," Vee-Threepio suggested. "We may simply be able to walk right in." And, sure enough, that was the case. The Chevin bouncers outside the Davik's Downfall grunted as the...