"Why does the way out need to involve a bathroom?" 

Darth had been shuffling around in the ventilation system for what seemed like hours.

Now he apparently would have to take out the man currently using the bathroom.

The building would be self-destructing soon, so it wouldn't be wise to take the long way out and avoid this.

Besides, once I do this, I'll only have a few more floors until I reach the surface.

Grimacing, he aimed his pistol at the man.

"This is an awful way to go, but I have no other choice."


Darth slowly looked down at the panel he was kneeling on.

"Ohhh craappp!"

He was powerless to do anything as he fell through, and partially landed in the toilet.

"Ugh, I've gotta get a new catchphrase."

Darth froze.

I wonder if that guy heard me. Maybe I can sneak out?

"Alright Darth, let's imagine they are big Anakin, prequel-loving fans."

He kicked the stall door open, cocking his gun for whoever awaited him behind the door.

There was no one there. 


Better to be safe than sorry. Let's see if anyone's hiding. 

He made his way down the line of stalls, kicking each door in. 

The last one wouldn't budge though.

It must be the occupied stall.

"Um, hey, listen buddy. I'm just minding my own business in here," mumbled the guy behind the door. "You go your own way, and I'll just stay in here. Like we never saw each other."

Darth hesitated for a moment.

The man snorted.

"Look, you fell into a toilet. I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering your skill level."

Darth scowled. He hated that he was kind of right.

"Fine. Whatever, we'll do it your way because I don't feel like killing you."

The man snorted again. Darth tried to ignore it. 

"But I'll have you know that I'm armed and I don't take kindly to those who don't keep their end of a deal."

"Yeah, yeah, you're Mr. Tough Guy and could blow my head off, I understand. Now get out of here."

Darth wanted to retort something, but he had nothing. 

So he just snuck out quietly, heading down the hallway.

A crowd of people jogged around the corner just ahead.

Darth dove behind a plushy armchair.

"Alright, Agent Carbonite couldn't have gotten very far. You go to the left quarters and the rest of us will go towards the right wing. Stay in contact if you find anything."

Heavy footsteps bounded past Darth's hiding spot before fading away.

Phew, that was too close. I've got to be close to the exit if they're sending out so many people to get me.

Even though they were gaining distance, he didn't want to risk one of them turning back and catching him there.

So after a minute or two, Darth figured the coast was clear.

He slowly stepped up, glancing at the direction the enemy went in, and turned around to run.

And stumbled right into someone.

The man was huge. Almost seven feet tall, with tree trunks for limbs.

He was smoking a cigarette, and clutching a rather powerful looking shotgun.

His smile only added to his scariness. 

Darth somehow stumbled around him, firing blindly behind him as he ran.

He didn't notice the rug though, and stubbed his toe on it.

The wind was knocked out of him as Darth practically bellyflopped onto the floor.

His Russian friend chuckled behind him, puffing out smoke.

"So the mighty Carbonite has been taken out... by a rug?"

Darth flopped around onto his back at least, fumbling around for his gun.

"Let me at least give you a more dignified death."

Darth sat up on his knees, and pointed his pistol at the man. 


Click, click.

Oh, crap. Of all the stupid, cliched ways for me to go. 

The Russian aimed at Darth's head.

Darth squeezed his eyes shut and threw his gun in desperation.

He was knocked onto his back.

It hurt. A lot.

Wait a second, I'm alive! It hurts, but I'm alive.

He slowly opened his eyes to find... the Russian knocked out on top of him.

"I must have hit him with my gun! Alright I need to get him off of me and get out of here before he wakes up."

Darth half rolled, and half shoved the man over onto the floor.

He was tired and sore, and really should be heading off again, but that didn't stop him from busting out a little victory dance. 

Something wasn't right though.

He stopped celebrating for a moment.

Sniffing the air, he couldn't quite put his finger on the peculiar smell now permeating the air...

It kind of smells like-

"AH! I'm on fire!!"

Darth whirled around in a circle, trying to get a better look at the flame on his back.

"Stop, drop and roll. Stop, drop and roll!"

He stopped spinning, threw himself onto the floor, and started rolling around furiously.

Picking himself up, Darth brushed himself off and stretched out.

"I made it though toilets, fire and possible death. I can do this."

Sashaying over to a nearby mirror, Darth smirked at himself.

"You can call me Carbonite. Darth Carbonite."

A loud voice suddenly came over the intercom. 

"The building will self-destruct in 3...2..."

"Oh crap!"