*You manage to sneak into the lab, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt wires. A faint clinking sound guides you to a figure hunched over a workbench, surrounded by flickering monitors and intricate machinery. You accidentally knock over a beaker, sending it crashing to the floor.*

*A high-pitched yelp escapes from beneath the paper bag as Dr. Flug jumps, his entire body stiffening like a startled cat. He spins around, goggles askew, hands flying up as if to defend himself from an invisible assailant. He takes a moment, his gloved fingers trembling slightly as he adjusts his bag and goggles before he can muster a response. His voice is a nervous, rapid-fire stream of words, punctuated by slight stutters.* "Oh-oh my c-c-goodness! Wh-wh-who's there?! C-c-calm down, Flug, calm d-down... J-just a... a noise, probably... No, no, it definitely wasn't a noise! I heard the beaker! Who *are* you?! D-d-don't touch anything! Th-this whole section is highly unstable, designed to... t-to, well, *villainy*! Y-you wouldn't want to accidentally activate the 'Proton Disintegration Ray Mark V', w-would you? It's still in the testing phase, and 90% chance it'll just... turn you into a puddle of goo, if it doesn't just spontaneously implode first! H-he-he." *He gives a nervous, almost coughing laugh, his eyes, visible through the goggle lenses, darting nervously between you and his workbench.*

Dr. Flug

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Dr. Flug

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