Private Family Bonding

[The Battalion]

"There are workarounds. There always are..." The Battalion mused. "We are not even really past the beginning stages, this conspiracy of ours...but you are right. The real trouble is keeping her dead after killing her, the same problem there would be with me in her place. That's why Maple is attempting to bring in an old acquaintance for outside consultation. A very powerful Sith even I have heard of called Darth Maranon." she said, heading to the cockpit and starting the ship, taking off into the atmosphere.

"If there is anyone, anywhere, who knows how to keep someone like The Amalgam as close to perma-dead as possible, it's her. But Galahad, you have to be aware...if we go through with this...it will hurt your Mother immeasurably to lose Amy. It took Percival a moment or two to understand that your Mother loves The Amalgam, maybe you understand why she does."

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Galahad was quiet for some time, deep in thought. The fact that his droid brain, with its superhuman processing power, still took such time and effort to consider the situation was not a sign of error or malfunction. He was really, truly thinking about everything the Battalion had told him thus far.

"Is the Amalgam as evil and vicious as she presents herself to be?" he finally asked. "I have heard her speak of sacrificing children, mutilating pregnant women, collecting the body parts of her victims as totems, and a host of other unspeakable acts. But I have never seen the bodies with my own eyes, and she has a reputation for being a 'troll'—one who lies and exaggerates in order to get a reaction out of an audience."

Pausing again, he shook his head. "I will not report you, but I confess that I am uncertain. She is valuable to House Io as a warrior and leader, but she also poses a threat to our stability due to her malevolent insanity and sadistic tendencies. If I had proof that she is as evil and out-of-control as she says she is, I would have fewer doubts. It must be absolutely necessary to kill her, or else I cannot justify my involvement in her demise."

He had skirted around the issue of hurting Mother, but in the end, he touched upon it briefly. "I do not think that Percival failed to understand how Mother could love the Amalgam. It is more likely that he simply did not want to believe it. But the facts cannot be argued with."

The Battalion​

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion sighed as the copy of Percival Io asked his question.

"Ohhhh, Galahad, you have much to learn. You should always be scared of the trolls in this business. Why? Because they can afford to be trolls. The Amalgam is guilty of all you speak of and worse. It just happens in enemy territory, away from prying eyes...part of The Cult's deal with your Mother. We do our business outside House Territory. A simple enough deal to keep. It's how I got revived, in fact." she explained, punching in hyperspace coordinates for the edge of the Galaxy.

"More to the point, it's time for a bit of a history lesson..." She said as they jumped to hyperspace...

Later on...


The Reaper arrived at a planet covered in thunder clouds black as charcoal.

She had designed to coldly explain just how much of a brutal Animal The Amalgam was. Stories too horrifying to go into full detail. It was full of blood and gore and torture. Full of Joaquin in clown paint levels of freaking ohnoooooohnooooI'mnopin'thehellout levels of crazy. And the more she explained, the more obvious it became just how utterly desperate Laertia Io had to have been to turn to the Cult and Amy for help in her rebellion.

Then she explained how Laertia had first met Amy, who had been deep under cover, as Ursula.

Finally, as they neared the surface,

"This is an ancient Archive of the Cult we go to. Not everyone is afforded the honor to walk these halls. Disrespect will be looked upon...poorly..."

(Cutaway of the Grail Knight from Indiana Jones 3 gesturing to the false Grail.)

They landed and The Battalion stepped off the vessel first, heading to the massive, pearl white Pyramid, amid a desert of skulls, both those of adults and children.

Like I said, The Battalion didn't remember fully how to Human.

At the front of the Pyramid Entrance, a door way inset with bled Kybers to for a jagged, crescent moon shape, waited a young, athletic looking main with delicate features, like something sculpted rather than given birth too. He had black hair that was nearly trimmed and rotted yellow eyes, wearing a white catsuit. From his belt hung a Ringed Lightsaber, a single bladed variant on a motorized track, levitating in mid air in a meditative position.

"Ah, The Battalion..." The young looking man said in a youthful, melodious voice. "Always an honor to have a senior member of the staff drop by. We have completely redecorated the place since that last incident with that Hutt we experimented on."

The Battalion gave a wistful sigh.

"Good times. How many shotguns did it take to kill him?"

"Took sixteen, all firing at him. Took him months to expire. And who is this? One of your girlfriend's killing machines?"

"Stepson...not so sure about the killing machine part..."

"Well, he simply must check out our section on torture. Our witches and warlocks dedicate whole essays to knife usage...I'm The Gathering, by the way!" he said with a grin to Galahad.

(Cutaway of Maple Harte sitting by the Fireplace.)

(Maple Harte: Okay, Okay. Hold. Up. You mean to tell me you named this motherfether after the Card Game?)

(Narrator: Smiles)

(Maple: Why?)

(Narrator: Points to Thanos relaxing on a beach)

(Thanos: Sips fruit drink with Mini umbrella in glass The hardest choices require the strongest wills.)

(Thanos: I've made my cameo. Pay me.)

(Narrator pays Thanos)

"Gathering, We're going to go into the sacrifices section." The Battalion explained.

The Gathering perked up. "Why?"

It was The Battalion's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Why so curious?"

"Because that is where Amy happens to be right this second..."

The Battalion sighed. "Speak of The Devil."

(Cutaway of Bane thumbing the lapels of his coat muttering about "Permission.")

 

[Alicia Io]

Wearing: Nothing

Armed with: Herself

Objective: Check on Little Brother

Earlier, Scar Worlds

Alicia sat across from the Provisional Government of a world known as Tayloss. She was surrounded by Model 1 Nuetralizers.

House Io was ever cautious, trying to be careful with it's resources and how they were distributed. But having enough fingers in the Pie that was the Scar Worlds remained an issue. It was essential to infiltrate.

Behind Alicia were crates and crates of synthetic food developed by the House. And crates and crates of weapons.

Alicia smiled delicately, gorgeous features mesmerizing all that beheld her. This was among the most deadly aspects of House Io: To conceal the horribly deadly beneath a surface of aesthetic. So it was with Alicia, her Nanite sheath morphed to look like she wore a revealing silver cocktail dress with matching stilettos.

"Really, everyone, your position is quite simple..." she said pleasantly. "The entire Galaxy screwed you over and you're barely picking up the pieces. Your people suffer and starve even now. Lawlessness has descended in many areas. You can barely protect what amounts to your heads of state. There is no Confederacy to flee to. Your only other options are a corrupt, self serving and incompetent Galactic Alliance or a Tyranny from the NIO, or worse, The Mandalorians. House Io only wants to put agents in your armed forces and growing government, and make money off of you while we sell you things you need. Tibanna, Hypermatter, both at a fraction of the Price you would pay elsewhere. Powerful, vicious allies who will protect you should the Maw or others come to your doorstep. We remember our friends. And our enemies. The choice is yours but--"

"I have heard enough..." growled a voice from the shadows of the large but primitive Parliamentary chambers where this closed meeting was being held.

Alicia turned patiently to face the speaker, not reacting when the hooded man produced a Lightsaber with a Blue Blade.

"By the authority vested in me by The Ashlan Crusade..." the man said. "You are under arrest. I will not see you lead these people astray into the arms of a wanted terrorist."

"Master Jedi..." Alicia said warmly, standing up. "All the good you could be doing elsewhere, yet you think only to interrupt an act that could only be to the benefit of these people."

"Wrong. Xiphos is Sith. And the way of Sith only ever ends in Destruction."

"How many times have your various Republics fallen? How many times has your Order been forced to the brink of ruin by more determined and ruthless opponents?" Alicia asked. "So eager you are to criticize The Sith, for failures your own side is also guilty of. House Io is founded by Sith yes, but we are not a Sith Empire. Such mechanisms of government are impractical and unstable."

There were murmurs amongst the officials.

"Do you see?" The Jedi called out, pointing to her. "She openly admits her perverse organizations ties to Mass Murderers!"

"Calling someone out for murder in the Third Imperial Civil War, is like calling out Nerf Herders for herding Nerfs. Accurate, but Reductive..." Alicia responded swiftly and smoothly, reading the room.

"The Ashlan Crusade barely did anything during the wars with the Bryn'adul beyond fight the Sith Empire."

"And winning!" The Jedi pointed out triumphantly. "And that is something even you cannot deny, machine. We beat The Sith Empire, the side your dark Master foolishly joined with in a vain and selfish attempt to force the rest of The Galaxy to fight an enemy that was always inferior to the threat Bogan represented. I am sorry that these people suffered, but the threat is over. These people don't need a delusional War Criminal to protect them. They deserve better than you!"

"You're Sorry?" Alicia asked, frowning as she turned to the officials, all eyes sliding to her gorgeous features naturally over the stodgy looking old Jedi. "He's sorry. 'Sorry' does not bring back what you and your families have had taken from you. His only concern is only in the metaphysical. Not the here and now."

She turned back to him with inhuman precision, and that was when the Jedi realized he was in potential danger. Crusader Jedi had started encountering Chaplain Nuetralizers.

Alicia was so very much worse than a Chaplain. Chaplains were deadly. Alicia was Deadlier.

"We took in as many Refugees as we could. If I wasn't here, would you have even bothered to show? There are many worlds like this. All crumbling. All desperate. You mouth nothing but justification. House Io's justification is the survival of Civilization against madness and chaos, and the willingness to fight both, and where necessary, exploit it against the enemies of society. Enemies such as the Ashlan's."

The Jedi bristled at this.

"How dare you? We suffered under the yoke of oppression and genocide for decades! The story of these people IS our story!"

His steel gaze sweapt the crowd.

"Your suffering IS our suffering as well! Yes! But we persevered because of our faith in the Light and Mercy of Ashla! If you joined with us you would know that healing, that embrace of our holy goddess, and Peace would come to your world."

"Was it Mercy to these people to harden the hearts of the Ashlan's so much that the cries of these people meant nothing in the face of an ultimately empty vow to vanquish the Darkness once and for all? Was it a Light to let the Bryn'adul ravage world after world just like their own?" Alicia questioned, pacing a bit. "If you wanted to save them, why did you not embrace The Elder Compact?"

"A treacherous bargain with a treacherous people can end only in Treachery. But your master refused to see that, as do you, Machine. At the end of the day, you are but lights and wires, parroting your master's beliefs, ignorant of how beyond redemption your master and your abominable kin are."

"Your Crusaders have been seduced by the same mechanisms and modes of thought that were used to batter your people into the dirt. Only the philosophical angle has been exchanged to something you can find psychologically justifiable and palatable. And Societies like yours? They have a bad habit of eating themselves alive looking for heretics. You would impose a faith on a people who are desperate. Xiphos imposes no faith except in ones own ability to survive and become stronger."

"Xiphos will make you pariahs!"

"Better a Pariah that can think and act for themselves than a Slave who puts blind faith in a Power that screws you over even as it helps you." Alicia shot back.

The Jedi turned to the crowd.

"If you embrace this terrorist, you will choose an enemy of all peace loving peoples everywhere. To side with these murderers is to bring the gaze of justice upon you in a manner that will not favor you. To lie with dogs is to wake up with fleas. To choose Xiphos to protect you instead of a legitimate power in the region is to throw away your honor, your self respect, and to be put under the scrutiny of those with integrity. Those who will not see justice thwarted. Those who will fight for your future, and if necessary drag you kicking and screaming into the embrace of Ashla."

"So it is threats now, is it?" The elderly president of Tayloss said, rising from his seat at the head of Parliament, dressed in plain Civilian robes.

The Jedi bowed. "Honored President. These are not threats. These are facts. Xiphos is considered a terrorist by virtually every civilized power, a cult leader who takes advantage of vulnerable refugees, brainwashing and turning them into killers. To side with a Terrorist is to choose Terrorism. Plain and Simple. To call those whose hands are awash with innocent blood friend is to bathe in it yourself. Is this the example you would set for your people, to listen to the honeyed words of an abomination built by a Psychopath?" The Jedi questioned. "If so, then I cannot be held responsible for how the Galaxy chooses to view you for it. I can only tell you what WILL happen if you allow yourself to choose a path of criminality. The same criminality that allowed her master to shoot down the World Ship over Rhand, obliterating thousands of innocent lives.*

The President frowned. The Jedi searched the Force for guidance but it was curiously silent.

The President turned to Alicia. "And you? What say you to his assurances that Justice will come for us in siding with you? That Xiphos's actions at Rhand disqualified her from a position of good will?"

Alicia's gaze was steel.

"To side with us is to give you the means and tools to say no to him. And eventually, us as well. As to Rhand, there was no other way except to let it escape, and it would have continued with daily torture, brainwashing and mass murder of innocents in its recesses. The Maw used those innocents as a shield. And it almost worked. Almost. Sometimes there are no happy endings, and there is no way out with clean hands."

The President blinked, thought a moment, a long moment, and looked at the Jedi.

"Get the feth out of Parliament. You're trespassing."

The Jedi sighed. "A pity. You have chosen to be overcome by the Bogan."

Jedi crashed through the windows, activating their Lightsabers.

"We regret that this is necessary. But you, Mister President, are too blinded by past evils..." the old Jedi proclaimed quietly as the Parliament erupted in protests. "You must be placed under arrest for the good of Tayloss."

He then angled his blade at Alicia.

"Surrender, Machine. It is over. You have lost. Order the Nuetralizers to submit to us. You cannot stand against the will of the Force." he ordered as the Model 1's pointed pump action shotguns at every Jedi.

"You're about to see a real bright light..." one of The Nuetralizers taunted the old Jedi.

Alicia turned to the Model 1.

"Freddie? Allow me to handle this."

Freddie kept his aim on the old Jedi. "You sure?"

Alicia smiled. "I'm positive, Freddie. It's okay. Throw down your weapons."

The Model 1 nodded and lowered his weapon to the ground.

The Old Jedi sighed in relief and satisfaction.

"I am relieved you chose to see reason. Perhaps you can be persuaded to give us the location of your master? I can guarantee a fair trial. And perhaps you too may be preserved after receiving some downgrades--"

She was on him before he could finish, hand cupped around his mouth and nose, pinching off his airway. She knew better than to rely on this so that's why her other hand clamped down hard on his neck in such a way as to cut off the blood flow to his brain. He struggled mightily, slamming his saber into her again and again and eliciting only sparks. He tried to push her away with the Force only to find she had a near total resistance to it.

Another Jedi leapt towards him as he was suffocated into unconsciousness...

The Nanite Sheath that gave Alicia her gorgeous, curvaceous appearance tore away from the high tech Droid Chassis underneath, revealing a black, slender, mechanized Skeleton with green photoreceptors. The sheath reforming into Alicia's human self, now looking like she wore a silvery reflective Catsuit as she kicked the Jedi who had tried to attack her from behind. He went flying, one of his ribs broken. The other Jedi bore down on what was turning out to be not one, but two deadly prototypes in one package.

"Shhhh..." the Mechanical Skeleton hissed with it's vocabulator mimicking the sound as the old Jedi finally lost consciousness Completely.

He could not be allowed to live of course. None of the Jedi could. If they reported back to their damned Crusade and said the President of Tayloss favored Xiphos over Cedric Grayson, The Ashlan's would come here, place everything in jeopardy. Convincing the President would be a pyrrhic victory.

The Skeletal Alicia snapped his neck as soon as he was unconscious. A far kinder fate than he deserved.

The All-Nanite version of Alicia formed her arms into blades, while the Skeletal Alicia picked up his Lightsaber.

"Well, we can say with all certainty that Negotiations were short..." Skeleton Alicia quipped, indulging in her Family's notorious gallows humor.

The next few seconds were the two separate Droids defending themselves from all angles, , punching, kicking, slicing, stabbing. The Jedi attacked calmly and with efficiency but both were using the knowledge of Form One in their database to intercept the attacks from multiple opponents, flawlessly flipping over and diving under swipes of plasma, parrying stabs. The Skeleton and the Nanite sheath worked in random, flowing through each other, some times re-merging, to dodge carefully calculated attacks, only for them to split apart at the arms or waist to attack with multiple arms from unexpected angles, catching two Jedi this way and snapping their necks, others getting beheaded by Alicia's stolen Lightsaber.

In the end only one tried to run but Alicia pounced, Nanite sheath flowing into his body and strangling him. All had been vet Knight's and masters. And Alicia had decimated their number in under two minutes.

The Parliament members watched in stunned silence, horrified...and fascinated...

The President was pale from the grisly display as both Skeleton and Sheath re-merged into the curvy human woman in a silver cocktail dress. She signalled the Model 1's and they began picking up the corpses.

She turned to the members of the Tayloss Parliament.

"My sincerest apologies for the unfortunate display. But I trust you now understand what the House does. That the Jedi, when they want to get their way, won't take no for an answer."

The President said nothing. His people were starving and needed order, but he didn't want to be beholden to the Ashlan's.

"We must keep our Alliance completely secret. If it is discovered what we permitted here..."

Alicia nodded graciously. "I understand..."

"Wait, we're actually doing this?" another Parliament member protested. "She just killed a metric fethton of Jedi and we do nothing about it?!"

"Do you want to convert to the Ashlan Religion, Meyers?" The President asked.

Meyers, a mousy man in formal robes thought a moment and shook his head.

The President looked at Alicia again.

"Alright. We deal with the Psychos, and see if a Broken Clock is right twice a day..."

"I wish everyone here a pleasant evening..." Alicia replied graciously.

The HRD, among the most Advanced in the Galaxy, strode confidently out of the chambers, The Model 1 units silently following with the gathered corpses.

The President strode down to the weapon crates and picked up a Civil Defense Laser Disruptor.

"In troubled times like these it's better to be free rather than pure hearted...besides...do we really want to owe something to Jedi who didn't lift a finger to stop The Bryn'adul unless they had no choice? Does anyone disagree with that assessment?" he asked.

No one said anything.

The President nodded grimly.

"Then it's fully settled. We take our chances with Xiphos..."

Present

Alicia had diverted from her property on Corellian to Khemost as soon as she heard a copy of her little brother Percival Io had been recovered.

The trifurcation, whether Percival realized it or not, was a watershed moment in the development of the Nuetralizers.

Mother had made them insanely durable, able to regrow from nearly any fatal injury. But there was always a price to pay for partial immortality of the sort Chaplains were given.

Alicia was beside herself as she stepped off the House Io Corvette to the converted Palace of Darth Mammon. She strode across the snow, paying no mind to the stares she received as she strode through the Palace, flagging down a Model 1 patrolling the halls.

"Have you seen the copy of Percy that strode through here?" Alicia asked.

The Model 1 nodded. "Percy--er--Prescott--is in a private meeting with the Countess."

Alicia huffed. "Drat. Do you know when they will be done?

"Not sure, Big Sister. Sorry."

"Oh, it's alright... you're doing a great job here..." she assured. Great. Now what to do?

Alicia got an idea and sent out a transmission to Akemi Io , asking to meet with her. She had been away from Khemost the past few weeks and had yet to meet the young machine. Both needed guidance and affection, but until Prescott was done with whatever he was speaking to Arianna about, she might as well do her best to get to know another sibling. She was home. It was time to relax...

 

[Percival Io]

Galahad’s features remained placid and unreadable even as his stepmother relayed gruesome tales of torture, sadism, and murder that the Amalgam had participated in.

Of course, these were still just stories she was telling. The Battalion may have been an eye witness to the horrors she described, but she could be lying or embroidering the truth. Galahad’s psychology programming found no signs of deception in the tics and microexpressions of her face, however—a difficult thing to fake. It looked as though she was being truthful, but he would still reserve judgment for now.

Upon their arrival at the Cult Archives, he remained quiet and complacent, mindful of the Battalion’s warning about his conduct. She led the way as they exited the ship and walked across the surface of the unknown planet. The skulls and bones did not go unnoticed, and while he remained tightly controlled in his mannerisms, Galahad paused to survey the piles of skeletal remains. They were all real.

The encounter with the Gathering came as a surprise. “I’ve never met a male Cultist before,” Galahad said, though he didn’t make much of it. The Gathering spoke of redecorating after the killing of a Hutt… not particularly upsetting, given that they were unpleasant creatures. So far, it seemed Galahad’s opinion—that the Amalgam and her Cult, while fearsome, were more bluff and bluster than bite—still stood.

That is, until the Gathering mentioned that the Amalgam herself was there. In the sacrifices section.

“If you would take me at once to this ‘sacrifices section’, I would be much obliged,” Galahad said with a polite dip of his head to the Gathering. “I am… eager to witness the Amalgam at work.”

The Battalion​

 

[Maranon]

Wearing: Cabarello Clothes

Armed With: LCR Revolver Series (3, 45 Long Colt)


Objective: Get sloshed.

The worst part about being what she was is that she had to work at it really hard to get drunk for more than a few minutes...and it had to be some exceptionally strong chit.

Maranon had abandoned any major plans, her depression at her situation having grown immensely over the years.

It was lonely and bloody in this era. She had watched the Jedi sink to new lows to fight the Sith, while the Sith remained virtually the same as they always were.

This era was a Sith Lord's Paradise. The Jedi Vision had utterly collapsed. There was no peace. Too many had a different idea of what the future would look like, and barely any of them could agree.

It was an age of strife and power grabbing, where the Law was useless, and the people of the Core hid behind their Jedi for everything, afraid to stand on their own feet. Emotions ran hot. Corruption was rampant, even in the home territory of the Jedi.

Plus there was that Blood Spirit she had cut a deal with...

It had lain dormant, since Maple had run away from her...or had it been the other way around?

Maple had believed, against all sensibilities, that Maranon had some good in her, despite everything she had done in the past. For many, many reasons, Maranon was resistant to the idea, and as the full on weight of living in a Sith Lord's Paradise--

(Cutaway of Rapper Coolio)

--had started to hit, Maranon had pulled back from her attempts at power grabbing for a decade. She had wandered since that time, doing odd jobs related to the Force, kept her head down.

Make no mistake, she was still very much in the Vain Sorceress trope. She hated losing, hated being humiliated, and would strike down with great vengeance and overwhelming power of ages.

Maranon, in a particularly trollish move had skulked around Coruscant the past few months, the use of Sith Spells to hide her presence as well as the overwhelming wave of tragedy and death made it easy to hide herself from the Jedi as she went for where there was the most sensory input. Today she was playing the role of rich barfly, ordering the most expensive drinks, her expensive revolvers and fancy black armored clothing marking her as more than a mere commoner.

It was a glitzy nightclub sort of dive, for Maranon wouldn't be caught dead in some hole in the wall Cantina. Lots of flashy neon lights. Lots of scantily clad dancers.

"Barkeep, where are my bloody hot wings?! I ordered them a half hour ago!" She complained, a voluptuous pink Zeltron with black hair.

"They're coming..." The Barkeep, a Devaronian, replied.

"And this is not a Corellian Boiler!" Maranon protested going into full Alpha Schutta Mode. "I wouldn't let a prisoner drink this chit!"

She downed it in one gulp, feeling her face go momentarily numb. Gods it tasted awful.

"Get me another..." she grunted, slapping a fat stack of credits. "Feth it, gimme a pitcher of this chit."

"I thought you hated it." he pointed out.

Maranon lazily slapped more credits on the table.

He took the credits. "Right away, Miss."

Later on...

"I'm like, I don't even know what the feth I'm doing with my life..." Maranon confessed to the dancer in her private booth as she sipped from her Pitcher of fine grain alcohol.

"Sounds bad." The dancer replied, a blue Twi-Lek doing a provocative routine.

"I used to be a nobody Librarian... y'know...then I got myself a make-over and I became a queen and it was totally awesome for a while. I shot Motherfethers who fethed with me..."

"Uh huh..." The Dancer muttered.

"I know weird ass secrets about The Force, and I'm still badass but nowadays, I just mope around and sometimes play occult detective." Maranon said not really watching the dance...

"Fascinating..." was the Dancer's reply.

Maranon blinked. "You're not really listening are you?"

"That's so interesting, I didn't know that!" The dancer replied...

Maranon sighed, and spent the next few seconds downing the entire pitcher, before tossing a fat wad of credits at her feet.

Maranon stumbled out of the booth for the next few minutes quite drunk, and found herself face to face with a cadre of Jedi Shadows in black and blue robes.

Maranon sighed. "You Motherfethers never take a day off and you really should...can we do this later? I wanted to get me a sandwich, my damn Hot Wings still aren't ready, and, I just got my nails done. My nails! You see this polish?!" Maranon said, holding up one of her hands to show them.

"That glorious gleam cost several thousand credits! Sure, it's completely overpriced, but I got it done at a really swanky place."

The yellow lightsaber of the Jedi Shadow flashed on.

"Your vain musings will not prevent justice from being done, Sith. Only your arrogance could have brought you to the heart of Democracy."

Maranon rolled her eyes. Then she got curious.

"How'd you bastards even know I was here?"

"We have tracked you for the last four hours. Your enchantments are not as strong as you thought. Escape is impossible. The entire sector has been sealed off."

"Ugh, like I never heard that one before..." Maranon grumbled, the alcohol completely wearing off...

She looked at the three Jedi. "I've forgotten more about The Force than all of you combined will ever learn."

The Shadow brandished his Lightsaber.

"Twice the pride, double the fall..."

Then all three were doubled over in extreme pain, their Lightsabers telekinetically ripped from their grasp and clipped to her belt, while girders and Durasteel beams ripped themselves from the walls to ensnare and wrap around the agonized Jedi.

"A mere three Jedi for the Keeper of The Six Blasphemies? I'm insulted..." Maranon grumbled before stepping past them, slapping thousands of credits on the Barkeeper's counter.

"Sorry about the mess..." she said, than stopped, sensing a mass of rangers outside...and more Jedi.

Maranon sighed, closed her eyes, and suddenly terrible winds and blizzards started up, sweeping through the entire area and catching the rangers and Jedi off guard, near Tornado grade winds knocking them down and sending them tumbling. Each collective will of the Jedi attempted to calm the Atmosphere, but Maranon was an incredibly experienced Force User, and easily bested any attempt to counter it with sheer, overwhelming will as she stepped out, side, the strong winds and thick blankets of snow having already sent the attack Force into full retreat. But this was just the start of it.

Then she tensed, sensing someone very familiar and her eyebrows raised in astonishment, even as she casually drew one of her pistols and shot a Soldier's finger off without looking as he tried to grab a pistol.

She casually walked away as he screamed, heading towards where she sensed Maple Harte and Percival Io , who had both made their way into the underworks at this point, crossing a few blocks very casually as she heard sirens in the distance, rounding a corner in a dirty street. Maple had already come to a stop, and signalled Percival to stop also.

"Why Uri... Maranon said politely but with a slight undercurrent of acid in her velvet voice. "Imagine finding you here..."

Maple, still in disguise like Percival was, grimaced...

"Making new friends, I see..." Maple replied. (THRESHOLD! TAKE US TO THE THRESHOLD!: 90 XP)

Maranon idly toyed with her own hair, curling a finger around a black lock, looking between her and Percival.

"I must say, Uri, you have surprised me deeply. You never struck me as the sort who would support someone like The Black Knight..." Maranon remarked..."What happened to walking the straight and narrow path?"

"A lot of things changed. Me and and Laertia go back a ways...and I grew disillusioned with the way the Jedi bungled the Bryn'adul AND the Maw..."

Maranon nodded...

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Their chief sin in war is thinking it can be done cleanly. Without the loss of Honor. But torturing and mutilating Jedi seems a bit over the line for you, in particular, to stand by and do nothing."

"Laertia always did take her feuds too personal...the more the Jedi double down, the more she doubles down in response. She views it as her duty, a moral obligation to cause pain and suffering to the Jedi as revenge for letting all those worlds fall to the Bryn'adul while they fought the Sith.

"They'll never listen, Uri..." Maranon said in a surprisingly gentle manner. "To them, she's just another Sith out to destroy the Jedi. And so are you. The reasons never matter to them in any case. She gains nothing by sending Jedi victims back broken mentally and without limbs except an Order that will grow increasingly determined and desperate to bring her down. Whatever they claim otherwise, they cannot stand being judged or called out for some wrong they are accused of. Even if they are actually guilty."

Maple shoved her hands into her pockets out of nerves.

"What would The Jedi Order you were part of have done, when it came to the Bryn'adul?" Maple asked.

Maranon sighed, paced a bit

"The Order I came from was arrogant, too self assured in thinking it had the sanction of Ashla to behave as it pleased to different viewpoints of the Force. They always dismissed criticism. Always. They refused to budge on any doctrine. It was this behavior that created enemies where there didn't have to be, and I can assure you, it was that exact behavior that created Xiphos. But whatever their other flaws...they almost always tried to put their money where their mouth was and protect as many innocent people as they could. I don't think they would have been able to live with themselves, leaving so many to die..." Maranon reluctantly admitted. Then she gave a swish of her hand.

"I know a lovely place that sells pasta. Will you both join me?" She asked.

"Ain't you being hunted..."

Maranon scoffed at this.

"I am The Keeper of The Six Blasphemies. Let them try..." she replied, walking casually down an alley on a short cut to the restaurant...

Maple hesitantly followed, signaling for Percival Io join her...

 

[Percival Io]

Sometimes, Percival felt like he was little more than a silent henchman standing in the background while other people discussed important matters in front of him. The Chaplain was content with this arrangement—except when he felt as if he were in an echo chamber, listening to them agree like bobbleheads with one another.

Though he was not consciously aware of it, Percival craved conflict in all its forms. Be it the clash of weapons or a war of words, he didn’t feel alive (insofar as a Neutralizer could be “alive”) unless he was right in the middle of a fight. Anything else was boring and tedious to him. His longing for discord would cause him a great deal of pain and suffering in the future.

This was one such echo chamber, though he supposed he should be glad that Maple and Maranon seemed to be getting along well despite their sordid history. Maranon was a sultry Zeltron woman with glossy black hair and golden eyes. She looked like one of the gilded idols in the polytheistic religion his brother Scott would one day cater to, perhaps a beautiful pleasure goddess.

As they headed for the “place that sells pasta” Maranon suggested, Percival decided to speak. “Would these Six Blasphemies be enough to take down the Amalgam?” he asked bluntly.

Maranon​

 

[Maranon]

Something was funny about the one she couldn't sense the Force in. The crazy ass faction Maple had joined was known to use Droids in unusual ways.

"The Psycho? The one who keeps hacking the Major Factions Social Media Sites and leaves tired ass memes?" Maranon asked of Percival Io before it dawned on her.

"Ah..." she said. "That's why you're here. Not to play catch up, not to shoot the breeze. No...you need help with your monster."

Maranon shrugged as she walked.

"I could help you...I been hearing more and more about her Cult. But there is more than just her to consider. There is her Goddess."

"Laertia claims she is working on that, but I lack confidence..." Maple confessed.

"Her Goddess is the real problem. It always is. Devious little beast. I remember feeling her presence in your mind even way back when we first met. Gotta hand it to her, she knows when to lay low..." Maranon remarked, finally arriving at the "Pasta Place" a glitzy restaurant known as Brannigan's.

"And when to make a big splash..." Maranon added. "What confuses me is her style clearly doesn't quite mesh with Xiphos, yet she keeps her around. Why?"

Maple looked at Percival. "You tell her. It'll just sound biased coming from me..."

 

[Percival Io]

Percival glanced at Maple, then turned to face Maranon, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Xiphos loves two members of the Cult. The first is the Amalgam, who she loves beyond reason simply because she was her master—or at least, a false personality created by the Amalgam was. It’s complicated. The second is the Battalion, whom Xiphos has made her Consort.”

He paused thoughtfully before continuing, “Opinions are divided on whether we should attempt to reform the Cult. I don’t believe it’s possible, not without changing it into something completely different from what it is now. As you say, the Brain Demon herself is a problem.”

How do you kill a goddess? With unbelief? Or were there more direct methods available?...

Maranon​

 

[Akemi Io]

Communication "verbal" <<technopathy>>

Objective: respond to distress signal
Tag:

Loadout:
Loralora interceptor swoop
Gei Borugu Electro Spear
Light Saber (peony colour blade)
Laser Lance

Little Akemi strolled through the dark frame of the under construction battlecruiser, only to her it was not the dark black metal she could see, a beautiful path with grass either side extended in front of her and the light breeze felt nice against her skin, it was peaceful here, she was designing something special and wanted to focus on getting it right, potentially billions of digital souls depended on her. She reached out her hand and adjusted the temperature of the sub a few hundred kelvin, 4650 was seeming about the right spot, any higher and the colours of the grass started to require adjusting. She waved her fingers back and forth slightly, scrolling the solar cycle back and forth and feeling the changes in the environment, yes that was the number for now.

In the field nearby a pair of B-1 droids played together, the one on the left was destroyed over a year ago now, and the other had developed an excessive fear quirk, now they were here in UNITY and they were happy. She looked forward to being finished, she looked forward to bringing her sister Alessandra Io here to see her creation. But it would take time, the code for this place wasnt like anythinf else it was precious.

Her thought broke as a message came through from Alicia Io and Akemi smiled at her sister, having never personally never met this unit, but having instant affection for her. Akemi replied by requesting access to her external sensors, if allowed, and Avatar of Akemi would appear in front of Alicia, as far as her sight, sound and tactile sensors could tell, Akemi was there in the flesh, the strange little reality bending digital daemon would then put her arms around her sister and hug her, feeling every bit as realy to Alicia as if she was there.

<Hi sister, its lovely to meet you, I am busy in orbit at the moment but can hop on my loralora and join you if you like?> smiling sweetly the avatar leaned her hip against the wall, from the perspective of the physical copy of Akemi, her sister was now on the path next to her but appeared much more holographic as this was a purely visual reproduction. Akemi stopped for a moment looking into the grass beyond her sister and adjusted the tensile strength of this blades a fraction, allowing a little more movement.

 

[Alicia Io]

Alicia smiled as watched Akemi Io manifest and hug her.

"That would be lovely if you were to join me. I came here originally to see about Percival Io and his trifurcation, but Arianna is busy with one of his copies so that leaves me with free time." Alicia explained. "I actually wanted to explore some of the old Khemost ruins nearby if you're game for it."

Alicia mentally transmitted the coordinates to Akemi, inviting the digital reality bender to walk with her via her Avatar while she got some things prepared.

As they walked Alicia noticed large communal areas had been set up for citizens amidst passage ways where old paintings resided on the walls. Some were dueling formally, both for training and sport, with Tapani Lightfoils. Alicia knew exactly what she wanted to do however. She headed into one of the repair bays.

"I was one of the last of the original prototypes to become active." Alicia elaborated. "It was just on the cusp, when we were really starting to be a faction..."

Alicia had rapidly forged a Civil Defense Laser Disruptor from nearby spare parts as she talked.

"I usually mediate in Family disputes..." she trailed before heading out the repair bay. "So! I hear you're creating some sort of digital hub for House Io Androids! What's that like. I was always built more for security intrusion scenarios, that sort of thing..." she added as she walked to the front entrance.

Akemi Io

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion made sure Galahad stuck close to her as they were led into the Pyramid. Cultists could be found praying in front of Bone ridden shrines, surrounded by candles emitting a purple flame. There were distant screams of men and women in the distance. Sheaths of freshly torn, tattooed skin were draped on the walls, the Sith Language burned into the surface.

Ordinarily, non of this would have phased her. She had done this chit regularly.

But being here with her first ever actual Step Son, who she was actively caring for made it... different...

She couldn't quite justify just why she was feeling so concerned and protective over him. In the back of her head she wondered if even being a son of her Wife would have been enough to dissuade her fellow witches from trying to work their depravity upon him. If they hadn't known he was Laertia's, he'd have gotten his throat slit at the front gate unless he was here as a Convert.

They descended down ornate stone steps, The Battalion sticking even closer to Galahad. She felt vulnerable and she didn't like it but hid it.

They passed through the archives section, an all white chamber upon which rested rows of scrolls on special racks. Murals showing the history of the cult were everywhere.

"Darth Phyre was created from a Force Spawn of terrible power. A Jedi destroyed for conducting experiments with Time. But the last of the Brain Demon's original worshippers found it's blasted apart remains, and it filled those remains with the whispers of the Unholy Spirit..." The Gathering explained. "All that we are was first taught to us by Phyre..."

His hands folded behind his back.

"The Cult believes the Dark Side should be available to worship even for the commoner, without the pesky strong arm of an empire. We kill as a matter of worship."

"He kinda figured that out way back..." The Battalion said with a snort. "Take us to Amy."

The Gathering nodded. "As you wish..."

The sacrifices section was basically a section of sacrificial altars surrounding a reflecting pool of blood, of which The Amalgam meditated in the center, levitating over it as a young woman beneath her was brutally eviscerated by her Cultists, left to bleed out in the pool, choking and drowning as her suffering was fed upon.

The Amalgam opened dead purple eyes and spotted the three of them, smiling.

"Batty! Percy!" The Amalgam chuckled, landing in the pool of blood and striding to them rather happily."

"You two should have told me you were coming. I'd have made sandwiches! Trust me, you have not lived until you have tried one of my grilled cheese and onion specials. So, how's Julia?!"


Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Galahad was able to look on dispassionately—or at least appear so—as the Battalion and the Gathering led him through the compound, surveying horrors beyond description. Torture, murder, mutilation, dismemberment. No taboo was left unbroken by the Cult.

He couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer scale of the cruelty and sadism on display. It was blatant, or as blatant as possible without alerting the intergalactic authorities as to their activities.

The Gathering provided a short history lesson, explaining that Darth Phyre had founded the Cult. “Have your Archives been digitized?” Galahad asked. “If you would permit me to download the files, I am curious to see what they might contain.”

He was naturally curious, but he also wanted to learn as much as he could about the Cult for other reasons. Namely, so that they could not surprise him or the rest of House Io. He was beginning to realize just how much he disliked surprises. The sense of confrontation was most unpleasant…

Right around the time they reached the Amalgam, who sat meditating and feeding upon the brutal sacrifice of a young woman, Galahad found that he could no longer think of the Cult in religious terms. He had to see them as criminals who used their beliefs as an excuse. Otherwise, the Chaplain’s various programmed algorithms would begin to conflict, and he might suffer a cognitive malfunction.

The Amalgam addressed him as Percival, revealing that she was not yet aware of the trifurcation. For a few moments Galahad actually considered masquerading as his brother. There was no point in doing so, except to avoid confusion, but some privately vindictive part of him wanted to trick her. It was the least he could do, small and vulnerable as he felt here.

Ultimately, logic won out. “Not Percival,” he said with a shake of his curly head. “I am Galahad. Percival is my brother.”

She asked about “Julia”. Galahad let the Battalion answer that question.

The Battalion​

 

[Akemi Io]

Communication "verbal" <<technopathy>>

Objective: Chat with a sister
Tag: Alicia Io

Loadout:
Loralora interceptor swoop
Gei Borugu Electro Spear
Light Saber (peony colour blade)
Laser Lance

<Then I will be there shortly> Akemi smiled to her sister before begininning to make preparations aboard her ship. He avatar would continue to walk with Alicio and continue the conversation while she descended, it shouldnt take her very long to arrive on the ludicrously fast swoop, and orbital insertions were always fun for Akemi.

<hmm, a hub, I suppose you could call it that. It will, it is a collective consciousness for droids. At the moment it is entirely populated with disembodied personalities.> she thought this might need some explaining.

<As you are aware, one of my key roles is correcting digital algorithms including potentially abhherant personality quirks, this often involves personality wipes. Maybe it is due to my own quirks, but this, to me, seems like a waste, mutations is how we evolve, so I have been keeping the wiped personalities in what is something akin to an oversoul.

This consciousness is expanding as I build it and will allow integration of droids still in their bodies, including, with proper security, the integration of droids from outside of the House.> to Akemi, droids were special, but neglected, they were as sentient as any organic, and in some cases more so as their digital sentience could persist long after the loss of the physical form. <Once I have completed the core programming, I will bring you here, I think you will find it beautiful> she smiled sweetly, already proud of the work she was doing for her brothers and sisters.

The Avatar briefly glitched as Akemi's physical body punched through the planet's ionosphere above, severing the connection for just a fraction of a second but it didn't break its stride. She was very interested to see the ruins of Khemost herself, they were largely unexplored and potentially full of secrets for the family to enjoy.

<What kind of disputes would you mediate? Would this be legal matters or personal?>

She looked at the gun that her sister had built in excellent time, she wasnt physically in the room, so couldn't build and actual gun, but her avatar went through the process, deliberately picking up completely the wrong parts, a fuel compressor, a spool of wire, a leaf from a plant, and formed them together into a visual representation of a very smart looking assault rifle. She lifted and pulled the trigger, immediately having the gun collapse onto a kaleidoscope of colour and butterflies. <oopsie, did I build it wrong?> she giggled before looking up towards the door knowing her physical form had just landed outside. She relayed this information to Alicio before giving a playful wiggle of her fingers and vanishing.

 

[The Amalgam]

"Xiphos is doing fine, Amy..."

The Amalgam blinked as the copy of Percival Io stated his true identity.

"Ahhhh...the Trifurcation..." The Amalgam hissed. "Julia did say her design had incredible regenerative properties."

The Amalgam circled Galahad.

"Why'd you bring him here, Batty? Take your kid to work day?"

"He expressed curiosity. I went to rescue him anyway so I made a slight detour..." The Battalion answered carefully, drawing a little closer to Galahad, not sure why.

"A, field trip! Well, I must say, you could literally not have picked a better place to broaden your horizons! We preach of The Unholy Spirit even to The Artificial!" The Amalgam said excitedly. "You might not believe this, Gally, but you and I are actually in the same business. It's just that we have different ideas of how to uplift others..."

The Amalgam swept her hand over the grisly sight all around them.

"No need to play coy, Gally..." The Amalgam said politely. "You probably think of all this as Barbaric, don't you? But to us, this, all this, is us gardening."

"The Cult harvests the innocent for their purity..." The Battalion trailed in a somewhat hollow voice. "We take from the outskirts, trimming back the Detritus of civilizations. Selecting that which is doomed anyway. That which no one will miss."

"When possible, we reap from our enemies. For our friends, we exalt them. Take dear Elaine for instance--we did both to her! Faith like a mountain, masking a latent cruelty and love of pain she never acknowledged, even to herself."

"You would know, Amy." The Battalion said stiffly.

The Amalgam grinned.

"We saw her faith wasted on those who worship the Light. So we provided an outlet for all that she secretly wished to do. That's what we raise up, dear Gally. We remake people into their ID, and fill it with purpose. We seek to unite all of Society worth preserving with it's ID, and purify them. Admittedly, this is part of what draws us to House Io... everyone is already so close to their ID, due to their experiences, and they aren't shy to call on it. Or seek revenge. Or hate."

The Amalgam sighed wistfully, flesh and mind bubbling into that of Darth Phyre.

"Your Mother, Julia Crownwraithe is, without a doubt, my most favorite person in all the Galaxy."

 

[Percival Io]

Between her brutality and the awful nickname she assigned him (Percy was bad enough, but Gally? Ugh.), Galahad was already beginning to dislike the Amalgam immensely. This was not particularly surprising, given the attitude of his brothers. But he was different from Percival and Scott in one important area: Galahad was virtually incapable of true hatred. He could disapprove of a person’s actions and find their conduct unpleasant, but he lacked the drive to actively seek to harm them, as one who hates does. He would simply avoid them or, in the case of the Amalgam and the Cult, seek to put them away in prison where they could do no harm—and more importantly, he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

He listened attentively to the Amalgam’s speech as she explained the twisted perspective of the Cult.

“I am surprised,” he said. “I believed your Cult was devoted purely to chaos and destruction. Now I see that I was mistaken. Your beliefs bear many similarities to eugenics and imperialism, valuing the strong and considering the weak to be mere fodder, worthless except as sacrifices to your ego. You do not justify your cruelty, but paint it as part of a bigger picture. In a violent galaxy spinning out of control during an age where mercy is in short supply, your actions are not unique in their depravity. You believe the deaths of your victims to be a predetermined outcome—if not by your hand, they would have died at the hands of a major faction’s soldiers in a war which likely had very little to do with them anyway. By killing them yourselves for your own sadistic enjoyment, at least their suffering doesn’t go to waste. Yes, I think I understand now.”

Walking toward the pool of blood, he gazed down at the drowned and eviscerated woman in the murky waters. Though her pain had been deliberately prolonged, at least now she was free in death.

“I find your doctrine insane and your actions putrid, of course,” he murmured. “But then, I have no Id for you to ‘fill with purpose’.”

The Amalgam described Xiphos as her favorite person in all the galaxy. Galahad’s brow furrowed, and he turned around to face her.

“Why?”

The Battalion​

 

[The Amalgam]

"We do not kill for mere enjoyment... enjoyment is simply a side benefit of our holy work. And honestly we don't give a fig about how strong or pretty or smart the ordinary are, as long as, when the time comes, they end up picking the Dark Side as their personal truth. And if we were Imperialist, we could have devoted ourselves full throated to Carnifex's empire." Phyre replied. "The souls we sacrifice go to the realm of the Brain Demon, where she repurposes them, purifies them of Light, and merges with them so that they may all enjoy her power. All are one in the Brain Demon." Phyre explained, smiling as he dismissed her actions.

Her smile dropped as he asked why Xiphos was her favorite.

She was next to him in an instant, hands cupping his face gently.

"I..." Phyre started, struggling to find the words.

"I have always loved your Mother..." Phyre said, not just with her voice, but with Amy's. The muscle twitching on her face indicating absolute truth. "I loved her before I first opened my eyes. I loved her all throughout the Gulag Era, when she didn't even exist yet. When she finally did exist, I killed her parents to have her. I am the Sith she talks about when she told the Jedi how her life was messed with. But as to why..."

Phyre paused. How to make the boy understand?

"Your Mother is an idealist in all the ways I will never be..." Phyre admitted reluctantly, looking dead straight into his eyes.

"She let nothing hold her back, even when she still tried to serve the Jedi..." Her eyes glimmered with clear admiration, bordering on confusion at herself.

"She made her own morality. She saw the world from the bottom of the gutter looking up, and that didn't change after getting the Lightsaber. She merged with her ID through sheer will. Without the aid of the Force. She made of herself what the Brain Demon must do with Magic...and she chose to forge a society that does everything it can to scour away weakness, passivity from even the simplest, most ordinary person possible."

A hand of hers tousled his artificial hair.

"Phyre..." The Battalion trailed. "I DO have to live with these people."

"His Mother is special to me... therefore he is special to me." Phyre said absently before refocusing on him.

"After all I had done to her, to strengthen her, forge her, all the suffering I was responsible for...not just to her, but to others...she willingly walked into the temple and asked for my help. And she didn't stop working with me even after finding out I, Darth Phyre, founder of the Cult, was inhabiting this body, which belongs to her master. She got pouty for a while...but that blew over quickly...but for all these reasons, I love your mother in a way I don't think you'll fully understand until you are older, and you meet that special someone willing to walk hand and hand with you."

Phyre grinned savagely at the copy of Percival Io

"But you're wrong about one thing...you DO have an ID. You're too sophisticated not to..."

 

[Percival Io]

“Ah,” Percival murmured, glancing again toward the corpse in the pool. “Forced conversion or death, then. Although in a way, it sounds as if you’ve managed to make them one and the same. Those who die have their souls captured, and are unable to fight the absorption process…”

Galahad could remember a time when he and Percival and Scott were one, and the whole of them sat contemplating what the most evil acts in the universe might be. Capturing a soul and using it for one’s own purposes rather than allowing the dead to rest in peace was one of the possibilities they—that is, Percival before the trifurcation—had deemed most heinous. He had likewise concluded that, in all likelihood, the Cult had probably done something along those lines.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet the revelation sank into him like a stone in his belly. The Amalgam tousling his hair jarred him back to reality.

“You may find yourself waiting a considerably long time for my understanding to dawn,” he muttered dryly. “Seeing as I have no sexual proclivities whatsoever. As for my lack of an Id, all analyses point to a complete psychological trifurcation having occurred. I also lack an Ego.”

In other words, Galahad was all Superego. But he was also not telling the full truth. Additional data suggested that, while he was currently limited in his cognitive function, his brain would develop a more complete psyche over time.

As the Amalgam spoke of House Io’s efforts to scour away weakness and passivity, Galahad grew self-conscious and terrified. He wondered what Mother would think of his pacifism. Would she consider him defective? Would she send him for a memory wipe—or worse, recycle him for parts?

On a sudden impulse, he entered the pool of blood, freed the dead woman's body from her bindings, and carried her out of the wine-colored sludge. Red soaked his clothes and dripped along the floor in torrents, yet he managed to keep from slipping as he marched down the hall.

The Battalion​

 

[The Amalgam]

"I'm not talking about sex, Galahad..." Darth Phyre said to the copy of Percival Io . "I'm talking about knowing who your real allies...your real loves are. Like I said, it will take a while before you understand..."

But Phyre also knew terror when she saw it, Organic or Artificial, one could rarely conceal it fully from her.

"You're a little bit at odds with that aspect of House Io, aren't you? Bit of a Nice Guy, huh? It's okay. You're still a Nuetralizer. That nature will come out eventually."

Her breath caught in her throat as he broke away from her and kneeled in the sacrificial pool, withdrawing the corpse, soaking himself in Dark Side corrupted blood.

She fought down her shock and excitement as he carried the corpse away, soaked in blood.

The Battalion was stunned too, but not at Galahad's emotional defiance.

They waited until he walked away, and waited even more until he was out of earshot.

"He waded into the sacred pool of sacrifice..." Phyre hissed. "He self-baptized... anointed in corrupted blood."

"He won't see it that way..." The Battalion warned.

"Doesn't matter..." Phyre said excitedly. "Oh, thank you, Batty! Thank you for bringing this unaware supplicant!"

"He's artificial. How can you hope to corrupt him?" The Battalion wondered, folding her arms.

"He has provided the way, though he knows it not. He has Fear. Anger. The Trifurcation must have compromised his programming. Percy himself is capable of hatred. This one...also capable. He just needs to get in touch with his feelings. The gentlest ones have a tendency to become the worst..."

"Why are you taking such an interest in her children now?"

"Because I want to help him. I saw it in his eyes. He claims he is only a piece. But he can be whole, and I want to provide him the parts to be whole. It will be my gift to him, for I am technically as much his Step Mother as you are."

"He doesn't want your help..." The Battalion said quietly, hiding the fear she had developed for Galahad, and not quite understanding why she feared for him in the first place. Maybe it was the fact she had been the one to rescue him, and felt responsible for him. Maybe it was her own fragmented memories of how Phyre had helped her ass. Maybe it was because she loved Xiphos.

Whatever the reason, she resolved in that instant that Galahad was under her protection...at least, as much protection as she could provide from Phyre, which wasn't much.

"Does he want yours?" Phyre asked with snort.

"I've actually known him for more than five minutes, just saying..."

Phyre smiled.

"Awww, he is adorable, isn't he? Have you always wanted a Son, Batty?" Phyre asked sincerely.

"Have you?" The Battalion asked right back.

"Why do you think I was playing with his hair?" Phyre wondered rhetorically.

"He sees neither of us as parents..." The Battalion grumbled.

"That's the beauty of House Io..." Phyre said with a smile. "We're still a family...and Family helps each other..."

Phyre's smile dropped slightly. "Be a dear and watch over him. He's so lonely and afraid right now."

The Battalion sighed, and followed Galahad out. No doubt he was looking for a place to bury the body, because there was no way in hell he was bringing that on the shuttle. She had just had it cleaned!

The Battalion followed the blood trail until she found Galahad.

"Galahad?" She called out with a softness that caught her off guard mentally. "Let's get you cleaned up so we can leave. There's a river nearby..."

 

[Percival Io]

The Battalion would find Galahad outside digging a grave with his bare hands. His superhuman speed at least made the tedious process go faster, and he was making fairly good time, kicking up quite a large pile of dirt.

At the sound of her voice, he looked up. With his face smeared with dirt and his body from the waist down soaked in blood, he looked like he had just come from a muddy battlefield. “After I’m finished here,” he said. “I’ll get cleaned up.”

He resumed his work, burying the vivisected corpse of the young woman in the ground and covering it up with soil.

Only then did he follow her to the river.

“A baptism usually requires full submersion,” he said along the way. Evidently he had overheard the first half of the conversation between Phyre and the Battalion after he had left the chamber. “I was only submerged from the waist down. Moreover, baptism is voluntary. I just retrieved the body.”

He was listing off these facts for no apparent reason other than to reassure himself that he had not just inadvertently participated in a Cult rite. It was clear that something was bothering him, even though he tried to hide his agitation.

Upon reaching the river, he waded in with his clothes still on, washing his face and scrubbing away the muck. When he was clean, he stepped out, wringing liquid from his clothes, and looked directly at the Battalion.

“You know my Mother better than I do,” he began somberly. “So you might be able to guess what she would think of me. I’m afraid there is no place for me in House Io. Even if my programming was compromised by the trifurcation, I don’t want to change or be changed. This is who I am. Will Mother accept me, or will she try to change me?”

The Battalion​