Private Family Bonding

[The Battalion]

"She does have a reason to help us..." Maple explained. "The Kolda-Bratha Calculus."

The Battalion raised an eyebrow. "What do you know of that?"

Maple was stone faced. "Enough to know your cult had control of one of the largest fragments of the formula in existence. Maranon is the single earliest person to ever experiment with it."

The Battalion crossed her arms. "We used to have that Fragment. The Man in White sealed it off from us."

"Your cult still has knowledge of it. Records she'll be very interested in."

"We had better be sure about this..." The Battalion replied "If we are discovered...I genuinely don't know how Xiphos will react. She might see it as treachery...or she might see it as a big joke and laugh it all off. She laughs at weird chit, sometimes. What will our defense be?"

"We call it for what it is...an intervention..." Maple said. "Though I confess, I'm not sure how much better things will be if you are head of the Cult. You're both sadists."

The Battalion rolled her eyes at this.

"Like you never took pleasure at the suffering of others." The Battalion replied.

"My life doesn't revolve around it like yours does." Maple countered.

"I am not Amy. I like Prey that's challenging to defeat. And every act of cruelty I inflict is strictly for the sake of my religion. Amy is often cruel simply because she can be. In the long run, her mindset is dangerous to the Cult. Her mindset is what nearly led to the Cult's eventual near-annihilation. I favor sustainable, renewable cruelty. To be honest, I rather like Laertia's approach to choosing victims. It's more professional than Amy's by a large margin."

"Such a ringing endorsement..." Maple joked in a grim manner.

The Battalion shrugged. "I am what I am."

Maple stared at The Battalion.

"Of all the things me and Laertia ended up having in common..." Maple thought out loud. "I never would've thought thirsty Sith would be one of them."

The Battalion winked at her. "We're in high demand."

Maple snorted at this.

"Half the people running this fething place are some kind of thirsty..." Maple grumbled. "I know where Maranon can be found...I'll need Percival to come with me."

"We can both go with you."

"No. It'll look suspicious if the three of us travel together..." Maple answered. "Laertia isn't stupid. She knows I ain't fond of your ass, Batty."

"What are you talking about? I have a perfect ass. Even Amy thinks so. Oh, wait, you mean not liking me..." The Battalion trailed, realizing she had misunderstood.

"Us suddenly traveling together would be incredibly out of character..." Maple clarified anyway. "But Xiphos won't question me and Percival working together. Especially if she thinks I'm training you."

"I still don't like your odds..." The Battalion said. "You should take Arianna with you."

"Can Arianna be trusted not to be a dirty filthy snitch?" Maple inquired. "She might despise Amy, but Arianna plays the Long Game, most times, like the spiders that helped me rob that liquor store last month. Even I couldn't have predicted that they'd set me up to get ambushed by RL Actor Scott Adkins."

(Cutaway of RL Actor Scott Adkins sitting by a fireplace)

(Scott Adkins: I won that fight, by the way. Fake internet money is sweeeeet.)

"Percival should approach her. One of him anyway..." The Battalion mused.

"Freud would have a fething field day with Laertia, with all her mommy issues." Maple muttered. "That is, if the Super Insects hadn't killed us all thirty seconds prior."

"And I thought Amy wasn't lucid..." The Battalion muttered.

Maple turned to Percival.

"One catch. We'll have to go to Coruscant..."

Meanwhile...

Countess Arianna Belasko was busily overseeing the installation of new security systems in the long defunct golden palace at the Center of Midas. Clad in a shimmering silver dress and heels, The Countess had been directing The Model 3 units all day and was on the verge of growing bored until she saw Prescott coming down the hall and felt her day brighten up a bit.

"Grandson!" The blond Countess with sharp blue eyes said affectionately, quickly striding over to him, silver metallic stilettos clicking on Ancient Marble.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you. I heard all about your Trifurcation, and...wait...which grandson are you? You're all my grandsons, but which are you?"

 

[Percival Io]

More terms and names were thrown around that Percival had not heard before. The Kolda-Bratha Calculus… The Man in White… He filed the information away in his memory banks, saving it for later analysis.

The others were still suitably concerned about getting caught. Xiphos’ reaction was brought up. Percival remained stubbornly closed off, his arms still folded across his chest, but deep down it pained him to even think Mother might despise him for killing the Amalgam. But I do it out of love and care for you, Mother, he mused, as if she could hear his thoughts—or as if he were rehearsing his last words if he were to stand accused of treachery. It has to be done, for your sake and for the future of this society you’ve created. Do with me as you will, but know that I did everything in service to you and House Io.

Maple and the Battalion argued over sadism. While it was true that the Battalion was better than the Amalgam, Percival personally wanted to get rid of the Cult altogether. He would help with the regime change, and work to destroy them afterwards. He had the patience for that.

When Maple asked Percival to come with her to Coruscant to find Maranon, he glanced over at her and nodded. “A training exercise it will be on the surface. We’ll speak to no one of our true reasons for leaving. I have no qualms with traveling to Coruscant.” As long as he stayed away from the Jedi Temple, he was not at risk of running into Eliphas Dune, his human doppelganger.

“As for one of my copies approaching Grandmother, I believe Scott has already encountered her.” The closeness of the three brothers meant they could more readily communicate with each other via technopathy. “He knows everything I know.”

Scott stopped walking as Arianna approached him. At some point along the way to speak with Xiphos, he had picked up a pair of black sunglasses, which he was currently wearing despite being indoors.

He looked upon his Grandmother with a sly smile. “Hey Grams!” He greeted her. “I’m Prescott. Scott for short.”

Lifting his sunglasses up on top of his head so that they pushed his dark curls back, he scanned her. “Looking fantastic, as usual. I love the dress. Say, do you have a moment to talk in private? It’s nothing too important, just a bit of a sensitive topic…”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"Then it's settled. You two will head to Coruscant." The Battalion answered. "I in the meantime, will go to rescue your third copy..."

"Why this sudden generosity, Batty?" Maple asked.

"If I am to be a member of this House, if I am to be the Consort of its Matriarch, I cannot have her children hating me." The Battalion answered.

Maple buried a faint spark of hope very deeply, The Battalion didn't sense it. Only Percival Io might have detected something. A faint twitch of muscle, so small even The Battalion didn't see it.

She turned to Percival. "Be very careful when you travel to Coruscant. One slip up, reveal yourself to the Jedi,than the odds of you escaping the system, let alone the Planet, drastically lower. I'll inform your Mother of my intention to go rescue "you". In the meantime, we should all keep an eye out for potential fellow conspirators. If that's all, I'd better get started...may the Dark Side serve you both."

The Battalion then strode out, heading for her TIE Reaper.

Maple turned to Percival. "Let's get going. It's best to get this over with as quickly as possible. We're heading there by way of The Silent Erika..."

Maple gestured for him to follow as she too headed out into the snow...

Forty two minutes later...

"Are you certain, Batty?" Xiphos asked over the small holoprojection in The Battalion's TIE Reaper. "I was going to mount a rescue operation for the third copy."

"I can handle it on my own. Besides, the Matriarch should be taming Khemost."

"It doesn't feel right not going after my son."

"He's my son also, at this point..." The Battalion insisted. "Let me get him. I've never had a Step Son before. I want to know what rescuing one is like..."

Xiphos thought about it a moment before nodding.

"If they have found a way to cause the third copy pain in any way...the perpetrators must suffer to their last moment..." Xiphos requested. "Please be careful, Batty."

The Battalion blew Xiphos a kiss.

"I always am."

Meanwhile...

Arianna strode into her private quarters in Mammon's palace with Prescott following.

"I always have time for a grandson..." Arianna said, sitting on a luxurious couch. The doors immediately locked behind them. "You're recent experiences must be very trying. If there is anything I can do to help you through this, tell me..."

She turned on the signal jammers, with a click of a remote

"This room is secured. Sound proof. Signal proof. What's troubling you?"

 

[Percival Io]

Percival was not particularly surprised by the Battalion’s offer to rescue his third copy. But he did catch Maple’s little twitch. As the Battalion turned to him, offering him a warning and a blessing, Percival’s eyelids lowered and he bowed his head slightly. It was a small gesture, but not an insignificant one.

He followed Maple out into the snow, where her starship awaited. “Why is it called the Silent Erika?” he asked, out of genuine curiosity. It would be a long trip to Coruscant; might as well make conversation to pass the time…

New Alderaan was one of the final worlds the Bryn’adul touched before the abrupt disappearance of chieftain Tathra Khaeus ground their genocidal warpath to a halt. Because of this, it had received the bare minimum of abuse at their hands, and civilization was quickly re-established thereafter.

Which is to say that the criminal elements which plagued the Scar Worlds were even more pronounced and active there, with plenty of people to profit from and rule over. Percival and his crew had arrived to find the might of a multi-world mafia family waiting for them. Enraged by the assassination of one of their members on Abraxin, they had managed to capture Percival and affixed him to a giant magnet, leaving him on display in the crime lord Garbo’s pleasure palace.

He had been rescued by a mercenary giantess who mistook him for Eliphas Dune—but in the process, he had been trifurcated by the competing magnetic forces. To prevent anyone from noticing, he decided to leave one of the copies behind as a decoy. The yet-nameless third copy was still stuck to the magnet, naked and forlorn, awaiting rescue and wondering if perhaps he had been forgotten…

Scott trailed behind Arianna, his eyes wandering the room she led him into. While Mother had stripped away many of the signs of opulence in the palace as she converted the grounds into housing for her citizenry, the Countess’ private quarters were luxuriously furnished. That was one major difference between Mother and Grandmother—Xiphos sought to use wealth only for practical purposes, while Arianna enjoyed the finer things in life. Both were generous in their own ways, but Grandmother was more prone to frivolity, pleasure for the sake of pleasure.

Not that Scott objected to pleasurable things. He also sat down, reclining on the plush couch beside Arianna with the familiarity and closeness of blood relatives. As though they really were a grandmother and grandson like any other.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Neither Percival nor I have noticed any issues so far. We’re going to get a full medical evaluation soon, make sure it’s safe to remain split, and from there, well…” He spread his hands, smiling. “We’ve agreed not to try and share our old life. I’ll forge a new path, be Chaplain to a new flock of citizens. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find my place—after all, House Io is set to grow and expand here on Khemost.

“But that’s not why I came to see you, Grams. I actually wanted to ask for your opinion on something.” He clasped his hands in his lap, glancing over at her. In this relaxed, easygoing position, he looked very boyish and cute. “What do you think of the Amalgam?”

The Battalion​

 

[Maple Harte]

As Maple approached the Silent Erika, a black chromium J-Type 327 Nubian with red tinted windows, Percival Io asked why it was called such.

"This ship belonged to my childhood hero, an adventurer named Lur Redtide. He owned a pet bird named Erika that sang for him alone. When she died during one of his adventures, he named his ship after her and retired soon after. I won the ship from him during his final duel when I was barely exiting my teenage years..." Maple answered as she got aboard. It was a clean white interior with a crimson floral pattern on its surface.

She paused, as she spotted Darth Themis waiting aboard in her purple catsuit with long black gloves and boots.

What are you doing here?" Maple demanded.

"Don't mind me. I'm a silent partner in this..." Themis replied. "I'll join you when the timing is right."

Maple got in the Cockpit, fired up the engines, and the Erika lifted off into slicing through the Atmosphere into space. Maple punched in the coordinates for Coruscant and soon the black ship disappeared into the white lines of hyperspace...

Much later on...

The Silent Erika came out of Hyperspace close to the Coruscant system, it's stealth drive immediately engaging. Maple had been quiet the whole trip, working out her argument to Maranon. For the moment, she decided to put them in orbit over the planet to discuss strategy.

"Maranon is living in the Underworks. It's apparently among the few places where she receives constant sensory input. She is a Drifter these days. Used to have ambitions of getting back into some kind of power...but that was before she got bored with power itself. That's how horrifically powerful she is. She could crush me, you, and your Mother very easily. She might look like an out of place socialite, but don't be fooled. That's basically Arianna's whole shtick. We go down there in disguise, we draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. Since Xiphos considers me a Sister, by extension that makes you my...nephew..." Maple said, testing the word out as it felt strange to think of herself in that capacity.

"So follow my lead, as I would be very sad to see you hurt..." she said softly, going to her shipboard armory to get weapons for themselves. She retrieved two Shadow Proclamations for them to use, Maple having been a silent partner in developing much of the House's ranged weapons. As she slipped in hidden items in her pocket, using a blond wig and make up to disguise herself, she began to speak, not certain why she was doing so.

"I tried to kill her, you know. The Amalgam. Years before the Nuetralizers were even dreamt about by your Mother. I tried. Many times. And so did Laertia. But The Amalgam was too strong. Always too strong. And both of us too...uniquely vulnerable to her..." Maple explained as she changed behind a privacy screen.

"When she revealed the truth on Kar Shian, we both suffered a nervous breakdown at the reveal, your Mother and I. Laertia took it harder than I did. Probably what influenced her to become part of the Silver Jedi...she was desperate to distance herself. Prove herself a Jedi in spite of everything."

Maple stood up, looking quite different, clad in simple gray clothes, a pair of jeans, boots, and a cloth Jacket, her blond wig and glasses along with facial prosthetics completely altering her look. Themis, disturbingly, simply meditated in one corner, silent but watchful. This was not the only stack of dominoes she would be tipping today.

"Please don't judge your Mother too harshly, Percival. You don't fully understand what Amy meant to her...to...to both of us..." Maple admitted hesitantly, unable to look her nephew in the eye as she reached for an old box under her bed and opened it, offering the photos inside for Percival to look at.

Some where of a younger Laertia in her teenage years, still wearing her spiky black biker leathers even then, standing next to a curvy, muscular and beautiful Twi'lek woman with purple skin in a white catsuit all too similar to what most Brain Demon Cultists wore, including The Battalion herself. She had sharp blue eyes and a calm, stoic expression at odds with the beaming smile Laertia had, wider than any smile she was capable of sporting nowadays. Some were photos of Maple in her younger days also. Unlike Laertia, Maple always sported at least some sort of Jedi robe, looking awkward.

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. They told a story all there own. Some photos had Maple and Ursula standing together against a backdrop of a temple. Ursula smiled slightly more in the photos where it was her and Maple, then known as Uri Udinia...though Uri was the one that had the stoic expression.

Others had group photos of them together. In all the photos where they were together as a trio, Laertia's smile seemed slightly forced. Uri/Maple's expression seemed as stoic as ever, and Ursula's smile was very faint but still obviously there. Some photos, however, showed "Ursula" smiling just as much as Laertia. But Maple had only a few photos where she smiled fully while they were all together.

"That's who we thought Amy was. A Jedi Shadow named Ursula Sandraven. When I say she taught us everything, I mean it. She found us both during difficult times in our lives. It is impossible to describe the full scope of the effect she had on us. Part of me hated Ursula and loved her at the same time for that very reason. I don't think hating Ursula ever even occured to Laertia. If anything, she hated me for perceiving me as the favorite..."

Maple sat on the bed, trying to silence the voices. To remain coherent. Laertia had been actually doing her best to delay the complete degradation of Maple's mental health, ordering round the clock research on the Degenerative Schizophrenia that would eventually kill her. So far, only one solution kept popping up: Magic. Full conversion to a Force Spawn. The one thing neither of them wanted to be.

"None of this excuses some of her more horrid acts. Or mine, for that matter...but I hope it helps you understand it, if nothing else..." she added before giving a small sigh of weariness and standing up heading to the cockpit.

"There's an old hiding spot in the underworks. Let's hope The Maw didn't glass it when they arrived here..."

Themis at last stood up.

"I arranged for a few of my local spies to clear the area. You won't have any trouble landing..." she said simply.

Meanwhile...

The Countess of Khemost raised an eyebrow.

"I despise her, because once upon a time, I was very much like her..." Arianna answered carefully, the Force Spawn actually in control of Arianna's mind and flesh forced to keep up the demented magical cosplay, even in private, even to her grandson, as very few, even within the upper echelons of Laertia's family knew the real Arianna Belasko had been killed by Laertia years ago.

"Looking at her is like looking at the worst possible version of myself times a hundred. I understand Laertia has...plans in place for Amy...but my instinct is to put the evil motherfether down at the first possible chance. However, because I love Laertia, I stay my hand for the moment to let whatever scheme Laertia is weaving together play itself out, either for success or failure. But I am not above having... contingencies in place. Why? Are you... looking to have a few...contingencies in place?" Arianna asked Prescott...

 

[Percival Io]

The corners of Percival’s mouth curled upward at Maple’s story. It didn’t reveal some grand secret about her history, but it did reveal a more sentimental side to her personality that he wouldn’t have expected from the mad assassin.

His little smile quickly faded when, upon boarding the ship, they found someone else aboard: Darth Themis. Percival suppressed a sigh. While he could be too surprised that the seeress was involving herself—no doubt her visions had told her everything before they even hatched their plot—it was beginning to feel as if everyone and their Grandmother (literally) was getting in on the “secret” plan to get rid of the Amalgam.

“Good day,” he greeted Themis politely, but otherwise let her lurk unhindered.

Maple was quiet for the duration of the trip to Coruscant, keeping to herself. Percival did not disturb her, enjoying the solitude and quiet.

Upon entering the planet’s orbit, she started to talk again, but kept the subject focused on strategy. Putting on a disguise, she suggested he change his appearance as well. “Indeed,” he murmured. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a long needle similar to a syringe, which he then inserted into the back of his neck near the base of his skull. The needle plunged special data into his Neuromesh brain, and his appearance began to change. His skin and eyes turned blue, his hair became auburn, and his features were altered, becoming older and more rugged. He looked unrecognizable.

“Thank you,” he said when she handed him a weapon. Even his voice had deepened.

To his surprise, Maple’s speech grew more personal. She spoke at length about her and Laertia, still calling Xiphos by her old name, and how they had both tried many times to hunt the Amalgam down. She showed him photos of the two of them when they were young, along with images of the Amalgam’s false persona, Ursula Sandraven, who had been their teacher.

“I do not judge you for loving her,” Percival replied, his tone gentle. “But it is a classic abusive relationship. I want to put a stop to the abuse, to end the torment you and Mother experience. To do that, I must remove the Amalgam.” He nodded his head. “It is what you called it—an intervention.”

Themis announced that she had arranged for her spies to clear the area. Percival bowed his head in gratitude, then headed out as soon as they landed, ready to face Darth Maranon…

Back on Khemost, Scott smiled at Arianna. “You could say that.”

He leaned toward her. “As it turned out, even the Battalion and Maple are fed up with her. Percival and Maple have gone to find somebody named Maranon. They think she can help. But they also want as much support as they can get, so they aren’t putting all their eggs in one basket. your name was one of the first ones to come up. Speaking of, if you happen to know anybody else who might want a piece of the action, the more the merrier…”

Maple Harte​

 

[The Battalion]

One massive hurdle The Battalion knew she would have to overcome was the fact that if they suspected who she was actually here for, they might just decide that killing him was the more prudent solution.

What to do--?

The Battalion felt discomfort at actually being invested in this. Where had this... sentiment come from? How had it crept upon her so suddenly without her really noticing?

(Cutaway of all my posts where The Battalion's will saves were successfully lowered)

As she landed the TIE Reaper, she decided she would approach it in the usual manner.

As a Tidal Wave of Torment. Say it ten times fast, I dare you.

The Battalion stepped off her reaper onto the landing pad and was immediately accosted by the Dock master, an old Protocol Droid.

"Greetings! Welcome to New Alderaan! There is a minor docking fee of up to two thousand credits."

The Witch raised a brow.

"Two thousand? Why so high?"

"The Bryn'adul's Presence here was short but devastating. Many areas are still under heavy reconstruction. This is our official policy." The Droid said, noticing her Lightsaber. "Are you a Jedi?"

"I was. Not that it's going to help you..." The Battalion sneered, her fury crushing the surprised Droid into a basketball, along with every camera in the area at the same time.

"The day I have to pay two thousand credits just to park is the day I might as well just renounce my self respect AND the Dark Side." The Battalion said herself as she made a move to leave the hangar quickly, going right past the security office to the outside in the city proper.

Strangely, it reminded her of a bunch of the cities during the Gulag Era that hadn't been touched by the virus. It was like everyone was walking around, paranoid, in shock that they were not dead yet. And she saw the thugs walking openly, without a care in the world, having dug their talons deep amid the chaos.

Her human self would have had them all crucified, this entire block subjected to the will of Ashla. It uncomfortably made her recall what Percival had essentially pointed out: All the cult had done was strip away any and all remaining pretense of self righteousness from Elaine Tear.

It unsettled The Battalion that Julia's father had ended up having a point about her. He had seen the poison within Elaine (and had, in some respects, given in to the poison within himself if betraying her location to the cult was an indication of just how much he had done so) better than anyone else but she hadn't wanted to understand where he was coming from. She had refused to look at him, really look at him, to say nothing of his decision, from an angle that was beyond the dictates of her then-religion. And it had cost her.

Willful ignorance had led to her current state, nothing more.

The Witch stopped a moment as she walked on the street, a pale figure in white that drew attention from passersby, and a thought occured to her, amidst the late afternoon light.

If I got to where I am because of my own willful ignorance, could my current condition be 'truly' an improvement?

The Battalion forced herself to keep walking to the Crime Palace where the third copy of Percival Io was being held.

She couldn't help but wonder at the moment though, whether her current behavior with Julia was some sort of unconscious attempt to make up for her failure to reach or reason with Julia's father.

Which Bloodscrawl were you, Morris? Who walked away from the Bloodscrawl Estate, that day?

The Battalion was startled, bumping into another Civilian who gave her a wide berth at seeing how strange she looked, and definitely began to get as far as he could once he realized she had a Lightsaber. Really folks, if you're some poor bit or walk on character thrust into the cheesy action horror meets monty python-esque insanity of the setting that this website so lovingly chronicles, and immediately running the hell away isn't your reaction upon seeing a Lightsaber, then I'm sorry, but you're about to become fodder for action sequences.

The Battalion decided to duck into an alleyway, trying to clear her head of this sudden bout of uncertainty before she used Force Flight to take off into the sky...she would hit the stronghold from above...

(Cutaway of The Xenomorph descending on Brett from the chains)

 

[Percival Io]

Still hanging suspended upon the magnet, the third copy tried to consolidate his fractured mind. A perfect copy of his original programming had come with the replication process. It was written into his very DNA—he was a Chaplain Neutralizer Model 1 of House Io, his Mother’s son. He had been called Percival… but no. That name did not suit him anymore. He was Galahad, deriving his name from the same ancient legend Percival had. A fair and perfect Knight, one of the three pure enough to find the Grail…

In addition, Galahad had some memories of a woman and child; the smell of incense, and a promise made. These things felt like home. But what was the promise?…

The sound of approaching footsteps stirred him from his reverie. One of the crime lord’s thugs stood below him, a woman in a leather jacket smoking a cigarra.

“What happened to your clothes?” she asked bemusedly.

Rags lay on the floor, the remnants of Percival’s torn robes. He’d been ripped in three pieces—his clothing never stood a chance. But Galahad could not explain this without revealing that his brothers had escaped, so he stared at the floor in ashamed silence.

A look of guilt replaced the smirk on her face. “Well, I’d offer you a change of clothes, but I don’t think you could put them on as long as you’re strung up like this,” she said, gesturing to the magnet.

“Is there no off switch?” Galahad asked.

She snorted. “It’s a magnet, not a tractor beam. You’re stuck up there. Sorry.” Puffing on her cig, she smiled again. “Though I gotta say, it seems a waste. With a change in programming, you’d make for an excellent… soldier.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, you couldn't have reprogrammed me. My mental architecture is too advanced and complex.”

“Well, no wonder why you’re on display, then.” She puffed on her cigarra.

"Do you think I deserve this?" he asked, locking eyes with her.

She hesitated, but didn't look away. "Didn't you kill a lot of our guys?"

"In self-defense," he said. "I was trying to help people. Women and children. You work for Garbo, you know how rough his men can become when they don't get what they want."

"Maybe those people shouldn't make dealings with criminals if they've got wives and kids."

"They didn't have a choice. They were desperate. It was either take a loan from Garbo they knew they couldn't pay, or their families would starve." He kept his voice calm and soft, his expression projecting an almost Jedi-like serenity. "Life is hard out here in the Scar Worlds, but you can't tell me that what Garbo's men are doing is fair. The reason why I'm here is because I stopped them when they came to collect their dues in flesh and blood."

For a moment, the woman stood very still, smoke drifting from her cig. His charisma had her rooted to the spot, unable to even blink as long as he held her gaze. But eventually she shook her head and snorted. “All right, I believe you, preacher boy. That doesn't change the fact that those people made a deal with Garbo, and you interfered. You should've stayed out of it if you didn't want to wind up a prisoner."

"I can't just stand by and watch people suffer," he replied, still with that unnerving calm. "I detest violence, but Garbo and his men left me no choice. People like you are weeds in the garden of the galaxy. I am a gardener. It's my duty to pull the weeds before they can choke the flowers."

"Uh-huh," the woman muttered, pressing her lips together. "Well, see you." She turned on her heel and left, trying not to make it obvious that she was in a hurry to get out of there...

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion landed on a rooftop close to the Crime Lord's and plotted, preparing a ritual in the process.

She kneeled and went into a meditative trance, channeling the Dark Side, chanting in Sith under her breath as the flesh on her face bubbled and writhed, detaching itself from the head, transfiguring into a white cobra while her face regrew on her head. Immediately ceasing the ritual, she gathered the hissing snake up and it coiled around her as she took off into the air. She immediately encountered blaster cannon fire and her Force Flight capability allowed her to dodge the bolts at high speed, closing the distance between her and the Palace rooftop, and wasted no time in crushing the rooftop defenses with the sheer rage of the Dark Side, the snake uncoiling from her as she landed and sliding into a vent shaft. This was only the beginning of it. The point was to sow terror in the inhabitants.

That they dare hold a citizen of the House against it's will, thinking themselves immune to the Force that had opposed The Bryn'adul multiple times was a slight that would not be tolerated.

The Battalion wasn't planning on killing everyone, like Amy would have. But examples would be made. It would do no good to overly punish common henchmen, as she was keeping in mind that the copy was a bit of a softy like Percival was (by her standards, at least), and the less dead, the less friction there would be between them...but the bosses...

She would dismember the bosses. There was no way House Io was tolerating their chit. But first things first. Rescuing the copy.

The Battalion raised her hands, conjured a massive ball of lightning above her, whispered unholy things that rendered it boiling red, and leapt up, hurling it to the roof.

The blast was immense and she had a shudder of delight run through her as she felt fear course throughout the complex before diving in.

The Alarm had a satisfying ring to it as she strode down halls that were luxurious to the point of gaudy.

She felt security teams scrambling to intercept her and her red blade activated. She smirked, watching as they filed in with heavy repeaters and shotguns.

"Let's see. One, two, three, four..." The Battalion counted as more and more came in leveling their weapons at her.

"... seventeen...eighteen..."

"One chance! Drop! The Lightsaber!" one of them shouted.

The Battalion smiled...

...and shut the blade off.

"Okay boys!" she chuckled softly. "You got me!"

She had a neural disruptor affixed to her head, which caused her flesh to sag everywhere on her Skeleton as she lost her hold over the Force and was dragged away in chains.

Fifteen minutes later...

"What the hell is it?" one of the guards asked as they hauled it into Garbo's office. Garbo had yet to arrive to examine the prisoner. An extensive sweep of the grounds had been conducted but no other intruders had been detected.

"I dunno. She looked normal, or as normal as she could have looked in that situation. Don't take that thing off, whatever you do." another said.

"Why'd she surrender so easily?" another asked.

"She must think she has a card up her sleeve..."

"It had better be a good one..."

All the Lights in the facility shut off.

"What the hell was that?" one of the guards said, all of the guns pointed at her.

"Go check it out..." another ordered before turning to the rest to give orders. "If it moves. If it even blinks funny, blast it and keep blasting until it's shot to bits. Then you shoot the bits to bits and burn them." (Charm of Barracuda: 90 XP)

Violent arcs of Electricity erupted from disabled light fixtures and striking multiple guards, in the room, the thing slithering through the vents above leaching and redirecting electricity from powered objects. The electricity wasn't designed to kill, just torture into unconsciousness and temporarily paralyze. A small, concentrated bolt hit the collar causing the disruption effect to cease.

The Witch, Flesh still sagging, brutally seized one victim by the leg, and used him as a club, mangling the internals of his leg first, and bashing him into others in a brutal sweep motion that sent her would be captors hurling back. She picked up her Lightsaber, delighted that she had been taken deep into the facility without resistance and now had full access to take the place down from within.

She rushed to Garbo's security screens and found where her stepson was. He was only a floor down and general confusion and panic had been sown, and feeding on it rapidly restored her to her immaculate condition, and she began turning off the cameras from Garbo's computer, locking the doors to all security crew quarters, destroying their security clearance, turning all turrets against them...

Just then the Cobra slithered out of a vent, writhed in electricity, and began warping and bulging growing rapidly humanoid as it took the form of one of The Witches in her body, a copy of The Assembly, flesh warped to look as though she wore a skintight white catsuit. Her flesh shuddered and twitched, purple electricity arcing off it.

"Find Garbo and his direct underlings. Butcher them painfully. Do nothing but stun the henchmen..." The Battalion ordered. "I will go and look for the Boy..."

"My pleasure..." The Assembly hissed, striding out of the office. The Battalion followed soon after grabbing her Lightsaber off one of the unconscious guards belts.

She knew exactly where Percival's copy was. And given how she had turned on certain security fields at specific points and using a copy of who was merged with her as a distraction, she had yet to encounter any fierce resistance, little more than the occasional errant Personnel whose hand she would cut off as she passed by, sprinting and deflecting the occasional blaster bolt at the same time.

One guard leapt out from cover as she at last approached the Copy's holding area, firing wildly with his repeater. The Battalion reflected a few of his shots back at him almost lazily, hitting him in both legs and he dropped to the ground, screaming. The Battalion cruelly stepped on the screaming man's injured legs with a chuckle as she headed to the door, her red blade burning through the lock before she kicked open the doors, smiling as pleasantly as she was capable of smiling, given that she was restraining her bloodlust and innate thirst for battle and death for his sake--and maybe her own, though she was not yet willing to admit that to herself yet, still too enamored with the power of being a Cultist.

"Hello, Stepson..." The Battalion said in a friendly manner. She spotted his torn robes and willed them into her hands, hissing a spell to repair them as she went over to the power source for the magnet and interrupted it by shoving her blade into it. Her flesh shuddered disgustingly for a moment as she felt The Assembly rip apart one of Garbo's lieutenants.

"Don't worry, I haven't killed any of the Low Levels. Only the Boss and his direct underlings are going to get it. Pinky swear!"

 

[Percival Io]

It wasn’t long before Galahad began to hear noises coming from outside the chamber. Sounds of gunfire, screams of pain, the wet crunch of blood and bone. Electricity buzzed, making the lights flicker; at one point the walls shook, causing the suspended magnet to oscillate like a pendulum.

“You should have let me go while you still had the chance,” he muttered, speaking to no one in particular.

Red light filled the corner of his vision as Elaine Tear’s corrupted lightsaber burned through the door. He couldn’t move his head to turn and look as the Battalion entered. The rags below him were snatched away shortly before the magnetic field abruptly lost its hold on him, causing Galahad to fall to the floor in a heap.

The copy got up slowly while she repaired his clothes with her magic. These were, after all, Galahad’s first few shaky steps as his own being. He took the clothing from her and hastily dressed himself, eager to cover up.

"Don't worry, I haven't killed any of the Low Levels. Only the Boss and his direct underlings are going to get it. Pinky swear!"

Galahad blinked up at her. He looked very much like Percival still, wearing his old clothes and with his hair yet to be cut. But something about the look in his eyes and the way he carried himself set him apart from his brother.

“I suppose they would have died either way,” he said. Even his voice sounded different, his Basic very proper and rather old-fashioned. “Crime doesn’t pay, after all.” Turning toward the remnants of the door, he added, “I only want to get home, Consort. I hope you will not mind my haste to leave, if it curbs your enjoyment of the slaughter.”

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"Of course not, young one. I do enjoy a slaughter, but today, you are my single, biggest concern." the Battalion replied, not fully remembering how to human, only making a vague approximation. But she was enjoying the challenge. "I was happy to do it."

The Battalion hid how unsettled she was at realizing she was telling the truth.

"Being stuck on that magnet must have been dreadful." the Witch remarked as she lead the way, past the wounded man and many others, none dead, not even all that badly maimed. A loss of a hand at worst, shallow, but incapacitating painful cuts at best. No one could accuse The Battalion of not showing restraint. The smart ones would remember that. It let them know the dispute was just with the bosses. A dispute being resolved with lethal measures.

The Witch pried a Vibrosword out of a severed hand and tossed it to the copy.

"Your Mother was going to do this herself, but I insisted on going personally. I figured it'd be a fantastic bonding experience. Y'know, shoot the breeze, grab a burger afterward..." The Battalion said with a chuckle instinctively reflecting the Blaster bolts of a hidden turret that popped out of the ceiling back on its source.

"Of course, first things first, we have you examined medically. THEN we grab the burger..."

The Battalion went ahead of Percival, moving quickly, taking sharp turns back to the hole she had made when she blasted through the ceiling.

The next turn however, made her pause, spotting a white robed Jedi with a golden, claymore like Lightsaber.

The Battalion yawned.

"Okay, chithead. Lucky for you, I'm just looking to clear out. If you crawl right back to your regular day shift, I'll forget I saw you."

The Jedi brandished his blade and random Dark Souls Music began playing OOC

"Guess not...oh well...I do like a challenge..."

What better step mother step son bonding experience than fighting a Jedi to the death?

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

“It was dreadful,” Galahad agreed. “But it was a lesson, if a harsh one. It taught me the importance of patience.”

He caught the vibrosword the Battalion tossed to him, looked at the weapon, then abruptly dropped it. The blade clattered to the ground loudly as he shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, Consort, I would prefer not to fight.”

Yet it would seem fate had other plans, as a Jedi soon appeared to stand in the way of their escape. His weapon was already drawn, ready to attack when Galahad said, “Wait! There’s no need for this. Jedi, what are you doing here?”

“I sensed the Dark Side,” the Jedi replied, still holding his weapon at the ready. He gestured to the Battalion. “This woman is a corrupted witch. I cannot allow her to leave this place alive.”

“She’s my stepmother,” Percival explained. “Garbo’s men kidnapped me. She came to my rescue.”

“What did Garbo want with you?”

“Revenge. I defended a family his men were trying to shake down over a debt they owed. They were threatening to sell the children into slavery as payment.” Galahad made a cutting motion with his hand. “I despise violence, but in this case I had no choice. They tracked me down, captured me, and held me prisoner for days. You could’ve saved me and countless other victims if you had bothered to deal with the likes of Garbo.”

“The situation here is complex,” the Jedi argued. “We can’t just walk in lightsabers blazing and arrest them all without due process of law.” He glared at the Battalion. “Or slaughter them like animals.”

“Are you really going to fault her for rescuing her stepson?”

“She was trespassing.”

“How else was she supposed to save me?”

The Jedi was silent. He glanced between Galahad and the Battalion, his expression stern and stony. “You don’t need the Dark Side to rescue somebody,” he said at last.

“Is that really the hill you’re going to die on?” Galahad asked, his tone disappointed and sad. “She didn’t even kill everyone here. Only the bosses. But all that matters to you is that she used the Dark Side, not what she used it for.”

“The Dark Side cannot be allowed to prevail.” With that, the Jedi raised his blade and attacked the Battalion.

The Battalion​

 

[Arianna Belasko]

Arianna looked at Prescott.

"Annnnd the coin drops." Arianna remarked (Impossible: 2000 XP) .

"We must move very carefully, Prescott. One does not attack a foe as powerful as The Amalgam casually..." Arianna stated. "And while I agree wholeheartedly with the intent, you must still take into account how it will affect your Mother. It will absolutely free her...but having The Amalgam taken from her like that will break her heart as well. I'm not certain if you even understand how she could love that monstrosity in spite of everything she has done. It's sort of like why she loves me, in spite of everything I am."

Oddly enough, this was still the truth coming from "Arianna", not that Prescott would detect any hint of the double meaning behind that statement. Unless he was really paying attention.

Arianna sighed. "I might know a few people, but the execution must be flawless. But what plan did you have exactly, concerning how to deal with Amy? We will all be in danger if it fails..."


Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Scott's smile faltered. "I understand," he said. "Better than my brothers do. I know what it is to give in completely to my emotions. Forget reason, forget what's right... I want what I want, and I love what I love. Screw the rest."

But he was still in on the assassination plot. Why?

"The Amalgam cramps my style. I find her kind of annoying, honestly." He shrugged. "As for the plan, it's just the beginnings of one. For now, we're putting together a team. Once we know who will be involved, we can come up with something more solid."

If Maranon or any of the other names that had been suggested refused to cooperate (or worse, ratted them out to Xiphos or the Amalgam herself), there was a chance the whole conspiracy might fall apart before it could even begin to plot. Better to wait and see.

Arianna Belasko​

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion kept silent while the copy of Percival Io tried to talk their way out of a fight. She looked at the Jedi with faint bemusement as if to say 'Don't worry, I'll kill you as soon as my Stepson realizes you won't be dissuaded'.

The boy didn't understand. There was no reasoning with Jedi when it came to the Dark Side. That was entirely the reason Xiphos had rebelled and continued to persecute and condemn them--they treated fighting Dark Side practitioners as more important than those getting slaughtered by The Bryn'adul. She wasn't even killing them most of the time--having developed a liking towards giving Jedi a taste of their own medicine, Xiphos had, in a departure from what most other Sith did, which was usually the binary choice of killing or torturing until they fell, Xiphos decided public amputation of their limbs, brutal beatings by House Citizens and getting severed from the Force and shipped back to their respective enclaves broken people was a far crueler means of punishing. Not only did the Jedi experience being judged, really judged, for maybe the first and possibly only real time in their life, but they got sent back as an example to their fellow Jedi, with loads of trauma to work through that might make them a ticking time bomb down the road, and they got cut off from their drug of choice.

"You tried, Stepson..." The Battalion muttered, her red blade casually slipping into a Makashi parry at the first strike, which was rapidly followed up by another strike at her face and torso. She danced out of the way of his next wide swings, playing with him a few moments then getting serious.

She directed a fast slash after his next swing went wide to his torso. The goal was not to kill him--The Copy wanted as little violence as possible, so she would settle for temporarily crippling him.

Still, it struck her as strange, a Nuetralizer wanting as little violence as possible. Maybe his programming was malfunctioning due to being on the magnet.

(OOC: Not sure if you want to control this NPC or not. Leaving it up to you.)

Meanwhile...

The Assembly, while following The Battalion's orders to the letter not to kill henchpeople, had been considerably more free in how she interpreted the mercy being offered.

The Assembly left them far more mangled and electrocuted, when she lost her self control. She simply couldn't help it, enjoying their pain. She had seized a pair of vibro knives and had been flipping and twirling through crowds of guards, not de limbing them but shaving parts off when she wasn't cracking ribs or jaws with well timed, well placed kicks.

The Assembly laughed as she left another guard crawling away, bleeding, one tried to cut her head off from behind with a Vibrosword only to have a purple bolt of Electricity arc off her spine and smack into him, sending him into convulsions as she then turned her attention to one of the last remaining guards before Garbo himself was on the menu.

She approached the nervous guard, savoring his fear. She walked slowly, very casually, splattered with the blood of his friends.

What she didn't know was that while this level 3 henchman had poor endurance and strength, and average intelligence, he had maxed out his agility and luck stat. That and he had also started New Game with a DLC item. It was actually a gift from his Mother to ward off demons. It's a sad state of affairs in the Galaxy when properly warding off demons was a legit concern people had.

As she got closer, he realized having only thirty five points in small guns wasn't going to cut it, so he reached his moment of last resort and pulled out a particular medallion with an eye carved into it surrounded by blue runes.

The Assembly froze, the flesh on her dark skinned face shuddering horribly, warping and sagging as she staggered backward, flesh peeling back to reveal the slick white skull underneath. But it wouldn't hold her for long.. already, he could feel the medallion warming up as the power required to hold back a Dark Sider of such immense strength was starting to prove too much. He backed off, the Witch's flesh shuddering everywhere now, bleeding white blood from sagging, constantly melting eyes and mouth. He broke into a run down the opulent passageways, knowing he had bought himself maybe fifteen seconds at best and scrambling for what to do, and all he could think of doing was run into the treasure chambers.

Garbo's 'private', treasure chambers, to be exact. Everyone had the key, but the place was monitored twenty four seven.

At least, it had been, until The Assembly leaching electricity out of the entire palace disabled the cameras. There was one treasure room in there that didn't rely on electronics, but hardened, physical security. A strange vault with runes Garbo had always told people never to go near, as it had come with the palace upon purchase from the previous, now very much deceased owner. The gangster had two choices: Either he could accept being maimed and tortured by The Assembly, or he could take his chances in that vault.

Understandably, he decided to make a run for the vault.

He darted past priceless gemstones, statues, paintings all on display all their security disabled. Sitting ducks. It was the perfect opportunity to steal, yet all that value, literally waiting to be plucked from their resting places, paled in comparison to the prize of preventing his own severe mutilation.

He spotted the massive, rune covered open vault door, and not caring what was inside, or even that he could see inside due to its depths, he rushed in, swinging that vault door shut. It automatically locked on its own.

He heard a demonic snarl from the Assembly outside the Vault door and backed away...

"She'll break in, you know..."

His blood ran cold.

"The runes will keep her out only so long..." Came the raspy contralto of a woman behind him.

The gangster took out his small flash light and shined it behind him. He went still.

On a stand, rested the a mound of flesh shaped like an elderly woman's tanned face, pinned to a mannequin head by rune covered nails, which made the flesh bubble occasionally.

He took a step back in horror. The eyeless face smiled pleasantly on the mannequin, though it sagged in places, having no muscles to rely on.

"We have maybe five minutes at best. Tell me, young man, do you wish to live?" it asked.

The man nodded.

"As do I. But the only way that happens is if you do exactly as I tell you. You must remove the nails." the face said.

Fear and uncertainty warred across his face. He pulled out the pistol, pointing at it.

"Maybe you're lying about the vault being able to be breached. Maybe as soon as I pull those nails out, I'm dead."

"If I'm lying, pull the trigger. You will die regardless. Face it, good sir. I am your only out."

The gangster hesitated. But then he saw the entirety of the vault shudder like liquid somehow, The Assembly applying blunt magical Force to the runes to try and break them down. One by one he saw each rune inside, carved into the walls, hiss and burn, degradation spreading.

He was pulling the nails out carefully. Soon all 007 had been plucked out. The face slid off the Mannequin head...

"Say nothing. You give me away and neither of us walk out..." it warned, sprouting tendrils much to his disgust as it clambered up to the ceiling of the vault, hiding in a corner.

The runes soon burned away and the door was swung open, the Assembly stepping in with a cold smile. He held out out the Medallion again, and she stiffened, but snarled, stomping her foot, and it caught fire in his hands, forcing him to drop it and he backed away, savoring his terror.

"What shall I cut off first?" she asked him teasingly, flesh warping all over her Skeleton in anticipation of feeding on his suffering.

She did not notice the mound of flesh sliding down the corner, than creeping up to her. It zipped forward slightly. As The Assembly's flesh was warped to make it look like she wore a catsuit, she had nothing to protect her and didn't even feel it as the fragment of a Force Spawn merged with the flesh in her leg silently, disappearing into her body, essence dissolving into it...

The Assembly took another step forward and stopped, her skin bubbling and warping. Tiny, pig like squeals escaped her throat as her mind was shorted out and overtaken, and her form and mind momentarily vanished into that of and elderly but tall and well built pale woman with short, platinum blonde hair, flesh now warped to look as though she wore a skintight gray catsuit.

She stared pleasantly at the gangster.

"A deal is a deal..." she said warmly. "You should be running. I can only edit her memories so long before the host she spawned from suspects something."

The gangster took off past the copy of Lucretia Lister like there was no tomorrow.

"What a helpful chap..." Lucretia remarked, flesh and mind vanishing, warping back into the Assembly, who looked around, confused, unable to find her prey...

Ah well. It mattered little. Sometimes small fish evaded the hook.

The Assembly stormed out, displeased at being momentarily distracted from Garbo...

 

[Percival Io]

In some ways, it could be said that Galahad was the most cunning of the brothers. In addition to the Superego—the conscience—he comprised what had been Percival’s more intellectual side. He had studied the ways of the enemies of House Io, learning how they thought, what they believed, and where their priorities lay. His goal in doing so was to find methods of manipulating them that went beyond mere violence.

While it was not always the case, he expected any given Jedi’s faith to match his own. Trying to tell a Jedi that their dogma was wrong would be equally as pointless as telling a Chaplain Neutralizer their belief in House Io was wrong. But making a Jedi doubt their fidelity to the Jedi Code by highlighting the paradox and the hypocrisy of their actions would have much more far-reaching consequences on their psyche. Jedi were the guardians of peace and justice—yet here the Jedi was, attacking a woman in the process of rescuing her stepson simply because he sensed corruption in her.

As the duel proceeded and Galahad moved out of the way of their flashing blades, he watched the Jedi’s face. Turmoil was written upon his features, a seed of doubt planted in his mind. Was he doing the right thing? Was this truly how a Jedi was supposed to behave? Or had his pride brought him to this point, driving him to twist and betray the Code just to avoid admitting he was wrong?

The Jedi began to falter, giving ground. Forced back by the Battalion’s rapid swings, he staggered away, breathing hard. A war raged within, uncertainty poisoning his will to fight.

He was young, freshly knighted, skilled but untried. No one had ever made this kind of argument against him, but he had heard many stories like this over the years. Tales of war crimes committed against the children of the Sith, justified because they were being taught the Dark Side; the controversy over the Elder Compact that had killed it in the womb, resulting in the deaths or displacement of billions in a two-front war against both the Bryn’adul and the Sith Empire… and a simple story of a Jedi Padawan who had convinced a Sith Acolyte that the battle was better spent evacuating younglings, saving them from harm’s way.

How could he have heard all this, and learned nothing from it?

The Jedi deactivated his weapon. “Enough,” he said. “Go. Leave this place in peace. I will take care of the survivors.”

The Battalion​

 

[Lucretia Lister]

The Assembly stood before the doors to Garbo's Panic Room. He had taken precautions, she would give him that much, the entire hull of his panic chamber was an eighty-twenty mix of Cortosis weave Durasteel. Magnetically sealed. No way in hell her knives were getting through that.

But as with so many things, it ran on electricity.

The Assembly placed her hands upon the chamber, flesh shuddering as she began to Leech the Electricity out of the entire chamber, Soon the magnetic sealing began to fail and the door clicked open and she casually strode in, flesh still bubbling everywhere, purple arcs of Electricity erupting from the surface of her body regularly

It was dark inside so she generated an arc of purple lightning between her hands. She wanted him to know his last moments would be terror and pain.

What she got instead was a burly, beefy looking man with a gray five o clock shadow and neatly trimmed hair in an armored, Austin Powers-like outfit, lace crevat and all, a wrist mounted flamethrower on an arm gauntlet.

"Garbo ain't here..." He said in the dark, puffing a cigar that he lit with the end of his torch.

"One chance. Tell me where he is and you'll keep most of your skin." The Assembly sneered.

His response was to bathe her in flames. The Witch let out an unnatural, metallic, pig like shriek as she was forced backward.

The man calmly walked out of the chamber, grabbed a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and went full Walking Dead on the Assembly, brutally slamming it into the head of the writhing burning Witch again and again, sending her staggering back with every blow. In the 007th blow the bat broke in half, so he punched her in the chest so hard with a Cybernetic Arm that she went flying backward into a wall, cracking it.

That was when the Assembly's mind shorted out again, flesh and Personality warping into that of Lucretia's.

As the next blow came, Lucretia dodged it with Force Speed, punching him backward. He stumbled holding his jaw as Lucretia stood up.

"No way..." he breathed. "You're dead. I killed you."

Lucretia craned her head in curiosity before giving a soft chuckle in recognition.

"Howard, was it?" she asked.

Howard The Pirate, an old friend of Garbo's who had been staying for a few days, pulled out a sawn off shotgun.

"I put you down once before..." he snarled. "I can do it again."

"You barely won the first time. You're older. Slower. Still built like a brick chithouse. Let's see if you're still as tough as one."

"How did you do it?" Howard asked quietly.

"Cheat death? Oh come now Howard, a Witch of my Caliber always has back up plans...you should ask Garbo. He was the one who didn't destroy one of my last remaining fragments when he had the chance."

Howard spat on the ground.

"Dumb bastard always did like his trophies. Told him to ghost the Android, or give it back, but he wouldn't listen."

"That's Garbo for you." she said with a cold smirk.

Howard fired, but Lucretia dodged the first blast, a swinging kick knocking the sawn off of his hand before he could get a second shot off.

The next few seconds were was Howard taking a series of vicious blows to every part of his body, the pain made worse by her ion energy infused touch that left severe welts and gave terrible electric pain running up his body. But he powered through it, grabbing her head with his cyber arm lifting her up in a death grip as she grasped his arm, trying to shut it down with Ionic overload only to find it had been reinforced against such.

He pile drived her face into the floor so hard he cracked it...and sent her through it, to the floor below. It was like that time Undertaker smashed Mankind through the top of the cage at Hell in a Cell.

Howard looked for the shotgun, only to realize it had fallen down the floor below with her and leapt down, slugging her in the face as she tried to stand. Only the punches from his cybernetic arm seemed to wind her slightly. Howard kept punching...

...and Lucretia momentarily lost control, her flesh and mind shifting back to the Assembly, a bolt of Electricity arcing from her body to strike him in the chest and fling him away. But he had the endurance of Bo' Rai' Cho's liver, or at least two Frank Castles and instead of being immediately incapacitated, like most other people would have been, he forced himself to stand back up. His Multi-Shield Generator belt had taken a good chunk of the damage but that had still been a relatively weak bolt...

Meaning Howard's best option was to run.

He dived under a heavy bolt of Electricity that slammed into and cooked a wall, like a perverse quick time event, twisted in mid air as he dived, throwing a knife hidden up his sleeve whose point slammed into the Assembly's face, spraying white blood everywhere as she shrieked in agony, struggling to get the serrated knife out as he ran, looking for one of the many oddities rooms Garbo had. He headed into the Wax Museum.

Lucretia strode in moments later.

"I may be in a bit of a hurry, but I still have more than enough time to deal with you."

Lucretia walked in, clearly full of confidence in her chances. She saw wax figures of famous people across the Galaxy. Carnifex, Solipsis' identity as Kaigann Fossk, Exar Kun, Jango Fett, Han Solo, all painstakingly recreated.

"HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" came the loud, harsh laugh over the loudspeaker, the wax museum chamber suddenly lit with spirals of black and white and neon lights above.

Lucretia snorted.

"Oh, surely you jest, Howard. Wax? You think these wax statues will protect you--"

The wax sculpture of Han Solo swiveled to her suddenly and Lucretia reacted, sending a damaging stream of ion energy that crackled and sparked through the air like fireworks and smacked into the arm of the sculpture holding a replica of Han's DL-44 Pistol. The arm melted off the torso. The countenance of the statue, firm yet brave, remained unblemished.

Lucretia's eyes widened in embarrassment and she was clearly distraught at having defiled Solo's likeness.

"Hey, Han. Han! Wherever you are, don't hold it against me!" she said in a near whisper. (Love is required, whenever he's hired: 7000 XP)

"HAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" came the evil laughter over the system.

Lucretia moved more carefully, as she couldn't sense him: It was the way Howard had killed her before. He had managed to "hide his mind".

The spot light fell on a perfect Wax Sculpture of Leia Organs (New Hope version), startling her and making her discharge her ion beams from her palms at it, melting the head clean off.

"HAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!"

A spotlight from above fell on that of a Clone Trooper wielding a Z-6 Rotary Blaster. Not willing to take the chance it wasn't Howard in disguise, Lucretia blasted it with an Ion stream, melting it.

No sign of him! Where was he hiding?

Lucretia's momentary frustration allowed the Assembly to take control, and unfortunately for Lucretia, The Assembly was slowly becoming aware that something was wrong with her: there simply wasn't enough time to properly edit The Assembly's Memory.

The Assembly snarled in fury, flesh shuddering and warping on her Skeleton.

"Enough of your games!" The Assembly screeched, discharging purple lightning from everywhere, the bolts melting multiple wax sculptures down, the bolts spreading and arcing out. Sculptures caught fire and melted in seconds.

Howard waited on the skeletal structure above that the lights were mounted on, hanging via his armorweave jacket from the structure, a combat knife in his teeth. He was nearly hit by one of the discharges, but because he was hanging by his jacket rather than the bare metal with his hands, he avoided electrocution.

The Assembly passed under him, but she had made a terrible mistake in melting the other sculptures.

Howard had stuffed his remaining eight shotgun shells, in the sculpture of Exar Kun, after tricking her into getting close to it by startling Lucretia towards that direction.

( A Sekiro Deathblow Marker has appeared! )

The Exar Sculpt exploded as the ammo hidden inside it was cooked by the electricity, and a large amount of buckshot buried itself in the Assembly's side, making her double over in shock and pain.

Howard dropped right on top of her , plunging his knife directly into her shoulder, causing a geyser of white blood to erupt as he was violently flung off, yelling as he slid partly on heated wax...and out of the now ruined Wax Museum, where, not missing a beat he immediately took off into a run for his sawn off shotgun.

(Sekiro Deathblow Sound Plays)

(One Life bar subtracted!)

The Assembly whirled around, removing the knife and tossing it aside, feeding off nearby electrical sources to quickly seal the wound up. Then she took off in a Force assisted sprint after him, swearing to cook him in his own juices.

As she rounded a corner his cybernetic fist shot out and slammed into her jaw, slamming her into the wall behind her. He approached, going in for another punch, but it was Lucretia who caught it this time.

The next thirty seconds were just them punching each other as hard as they could manage, Howard wasn't a Force Spawn or some lethal murderous Android that could change their appearance, but he was a pissed off Level 50 boss that had survived a rusty Amalgam, a still rookie Vera Mina, and had walked away alive from a battle with Syd Celsius not once, but twice. Once as herself, the second time against her alternate, Lyli.

Lucretia was almost in disbelief he was still standing after all the punishment he had taken, and she was starting to get tired herself...the battle had drained this hosts reserves greatly.

But Howard wouldn't go down. Lucretia was practically dancing around him and he just wouldn't go down, even when she channeled the maximum amount of ion energy possible though her body, This time he caught a punch of hers, grabbed her arm, and violently swung her face first into a wall, where she impacted...and shifted the entirety of her flesh around to make it so that she was now facing him and blasted at him point blank with her ion streams from her palms. Howard blocked with his cybernetic arm and advanced, driving it into her chest, which collapsed on itself like it was squishy clay and then Howard jammed both his thumbs into her eyes, the metallic shrieks that erupted from her as he crushed her eyeballs, violently slamming her head as hard as he could into the wall again and again , chilled even him to the bone.

Fountains of dull green blood erupted from the wounded eye sockets, the metallic shrieks unceasing, starting to get everywhere as Howard mercilessly, unceasingly slammed her head into the wall repeatedly. Anybody who remembers that Theseus boss fight from GOW 2 knows what to visualize.

(Taps circle button repeatedly)

Only when Lucretia's head was a smashed grapefruit did Howard finally relent, stepping back. He hadn't been able to reach the shotgun in time, so he had had to improvise. He immediately went back for it, scooping it up and checking it's remaining shell, intent on using it to blow her head clean off.

He turned around.

She was gone. Howard cautiously approached the corner...no sign of her in sight.

The Assembly, having retaken control of the body, and also realizing something had been absorbed by her, quickly seized control of the False Persona of Lucretia in her mind, utterly subsuming it to her will as she took the form of a snake, slithering into an air duct to rejoin with The Battalion...


Meanwhile...


The Battalion was, admittedly, momentarily confounded at the seeds of doubt the Percival Io copy had managed to create. Xiphos's programming really was that top notch.

She stopped when he did. He was actually letting them leave.

The Battalion shut off her blade, too surprised to even make a snide remark. She, for once, took it for what it was.

The Battalion scooped up the Copy with both arms and flew up through the blast entrance she had made in the roof...this was right around the time the Assembly had made it back to the roof also in Cobra form.

The Battalion merely held out her arm and the Cobra reached up and coiled around her arm, slithering up the shoulder and some how it's head bored into the Battalion's cheek, merging with and being absorbed by her face, the sick, weird as hell display lasting for a few seconds as the snake was gradually reabsorbed back into her body via the face, her flesh twitching and moving on her Skeleton horribly as it did so. Once her flesh reset she turned to him.

"Okay, now we can go." she said with a smile. "What should I call you, by the way?"

 

[Percival Io]

The Battalion's arms wrapped around him as she lifted him into the air, Galahad watched as the Jedi disappeared from view. Upon reaching the roof and re-absorbing the Assembly, she asked him what he was to be a called.

"Galahad," he answered. "I am Galahad Io." He paused. "What has become of my brothers? Did they make it home intact?..."

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

"Your brothers are intact, though I am told all of you exhibit subtle character differences." The Battalion explained, picking him up and flying him across the sky.

"Only one seems to have the original personality. As a matter of fact..." The Battalion said, landing at the hangar where her TIE Reaper was held.

"He and I were discussing something of great importance..." she explained, leading him in past a number of other pilots, who turned and glanced at her white garbed figure as she strode by, slightly speckled with blood as she at last reached her landing pad, opening the Reaper up, waiting for him to come inside before shutting the hatch.

"Okay, Galahad. Let's just cut right to the chase. You may not like me, I sorta like you, and we both care for your Mother greatly, enough for me to propose what I want to do. By letting you know of this plan at all, I may well be putting my life in your hands. In short...I want to kill The Amalgam. Are you in?"

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Upon boarding the TIE Reaper, Galahad had swiftly become distracted by his reflection in a mirror surface. He took the opportunity to shorten the length of his curly hair, trimming it into a neat, clean-cut style. He showed little reaction to the reveal of the conspiracy, apart from blinking his eyes at the Battalion.

"I would prefer if she were merely removed from power," he replied. "After all, killing her would create more problems than it solved, wouldn't it? She could simply possess a new body via the technique of Essence Transfer. Isn't that how the Cult of the Brain Demon has preserved itself over the centuries?"

It was a fairly common practice among the Sith as well, one that had made killing off the most powerful Sith Lords futile as well as extremely difficult to pull off. Palpatine, Exar Kun, Carnifex, Ashin Varanin—they had all come back from the dead, or attempted to do so, and caused a great deal of trouble for the heroes of their galaxy.

Galahad paused, continuing to process the matter. "If the Amalgam were killed, and was able to claim a new body, she could come back stronger in a form we wouldn't recognize until it was too late. She is, after all, a master of deception. It seems to me our best bet would be to find a way to imprison her. She could be frozen in carbonite, which would keep her mind occupied and her essence contained... unless there is a better, more surefire method of suspended animation?"

The Battalion​