Laertia did not run in the suit. She walked slowly, methodically, planning her shots, aiming carefully, trusting the armor to do irs job as she knocked out the animals she shot at, though [member="Bella Rimini"] and the others simply killed them.
She felt at home. Not because of the killing. That had been with her since she'd been homeless. She felt at home because she was living out a tiny fragment of her life with The Marksmen, even if it was only currently pest control. Laertia liked to protect people. It felt nice, making sure someone went home. And in such friendly company! One of the porcupine things tried to chew through the plating but she flung it into another cluster and fired, knocking more out. She fired nonstop, the exo-structure of the armor taking the heavy recoil of her armored shotgun. So this went for a while until the reached the bridge. It was dark, and deep, and staring in reminded Laertia of staring into the alleys of Nar Shaddaa from the top levels of its streets. Martin joked that what they had gone through was nothing. Laertia agreed. That was pretty minor pest control. The hidden fortress was where the fight was really at. Martin joked that Laertia could just violently shake someone for info. If Martin only knew how many times she had actually done that. Sometimes she defied the initial perception of a thug. Other times she was all too willing to live up to it. But she knew the plan and nodded. She waited for the others to cross, and then rather then risk walking such heavy armor over so narrow a bridge, Laertia negated the problem by teleporting in bursts until she crossed the expanse to the other side without once ever actually touching the bridge, appearing eight meters away from the others.
"Ohhhh, duh buildingz I uzed tuh sneaky sneaks intooz..." she remarked off handedly as she headed to the outer doors, keeping alert, walking slowly, shotgun pointed outward, ready to put down any that showed. She was troubled, still recalling her trial on Mimban...
Laertia stared at the middle aged blond woman and backed away further still in the white room inside her own mind, set up by this spirit.
"How...how'd yoo knowz dhat?" Laertia asked, suddenly very nervous. She wished she had a rabbit to pet. The United only smiled at her, her moldy sulphur eyes set almost too deep into the sockets.
"Oh...such pain I sense in you. Such lonliness. Poor girl. You've never had a parent, have you?" The middle aged woman asked, slightly wrinkled face. "All alone for as long as you can remember...fighting and killing over scraps of food past their due date. You know anger. You know desperation. Therefore, you know the Dark Side."
There was a haggard, haunted look to the pale teenager's face. "I...I wuz starhvinng..."
The older woman chuckled and gave a small, dismissive wave. "I wasn't judging you, Laertia. If anything, I've always admired a strong survival instinct. That's why I know you are a poor fit for the Jedi...and why you will never get from Ursula what you truly want."
"Ursy's coolsville-cool! I...me 'n' Ursy iz palz, wee iz..."
"But you need a parent. The Jedi typically don't encourage such bonds. And love in general is considered dangerous by many of them..." the United explained, getting up out of her all white seat. Laertia backed away again.
The United smiled. "But look at what she has you doing, little one...killing...killing people you don't even know. At least I gave my enemies the respect of learning about them. Have you ever even so much as exchanged a few words with one dark adept beyond me?"
"No." Laertia answered honestly.
"Well then...how do you know what you're fighting?"
"I'vv mett thugz lyke yooz buhfore. On 'Shaddaa. Alwayz too gweedee fer dheir ownn goodz."
"The will to greed is the will to power, girl." The United chuckled back pleasantly. "You would not have survived yourself if you hadn't been greedy."
"Yooz gotz itt alllllllll wrongz, Laydee. I suhvyved preecyselee cuz I 'wuzzint' gweedy." Laertia asserted.
The United scoffed at this, flicking locks of curled, golden hair from her face.
"All survival is greed...your well being at the expense of others..." the United countered, stepping closer. Laertia did not retreat. But only because there was nowhere to retreat to.
"Wutz wuz about suhvyvall duh day you 'n' yer frendz torrchedd dhis playce?" Laertia asked defiantly.
"Well..." the old woman replied with a sigh. "Some forms of survival-of transcendance, really--depend on how far one is willing to go. Sometimes...its just about fun...but in my case? Both."
Suddenly they were no longer in the allwhite room, but a burning, blasted apart jungle in the rain, an ancient and giant domed temple of simple stone burning in the distance. Jedi Knights fought women dressed in white, sheer gowns with hoods armed with red lightsabers as the stink of mud and burned flesh mixed with the rain water. Laertia went slack in the mouth. She had never been in a real battlefield before. It was so disgusting and sickening to behold as the Jedi battled the witches, who cackled as they butchered the followers of the light. The witches were butchered in turn by force or lightsaber. The dome of the temple collapsed in on itself with a sickening crack. The padawan fell to her knees shuddering as she felt the pain of hundreds of Jedi and witches, and horrified beyond words when she sensed pleasure from the witches as they died.
She turned, and saw The United standing over her, this time covered in blood and torn pieces of human flesh. Her gown bleeding from the stomach. She had no eyes now, empty sockets writhing with small maggots threatening to escape. Her curly blond hair was matted to her scalp from the blood.
The worst part however, was something that would have been innocuous on another. It was a smile Laertia longed to see on another's face, but on The United's face was utterly revolting yet mesmerizing.
It was a warm, motherly smile. Laertia wanted to vomit yet could not stop staring.
"It took months for these witches to set up the magic ritual to affect the sacred lake that lay within the temple. When we struck, after cutting down all these initial ones we set fire within, allowing ourselves to be butchered in turn. Forever ensnaring these Jedi to suffer and die in the same battle. In their suffering we live in dark bliss with the Bogan and The Unholy Spirit."
"Yooz ain'tz exactlee sellin' mee onn all dhis, Laydee." Laertia muttered grimly. She could not stop staring at that smile.
"We live eternally here. But we would wish all those who use the Force the same bliss we enjoy: Eternal life at the expense of our lessers. 'We' are power. We are blissfull. But we must spread our darkness. When those among our cult achieve transcendence on this level, it is our duty to return to the world of flesh and guide others to the darkness. You've killed...it would really be no different then what you are doing now...better even!" The United boasted, clasping her hands behind her back as she gestured with her head to the battlefield as it seemed to rewind itself, all the way back to the beginning, when they crawled out of the tree line, during the time the mass of Jedi meditated in the grounds around the temple, hiding their presence until they had encircled them.
It was a precise, ruthless lawnmower action, and within eight seconds over forty seven Jedi were dead, with the alarm soundinging in the temple and hundreds of more white gowned, cackling witches charged out of the forest, flinging curses and lightning. Sabers finally drew on the Jedi's side, and the battle was on.
"Whichh ov duh nuttkaysis were yooz?" Laertia asked.
"I am all of them, Laertia." The eyeless woman smiled again. "You will rack up a body count like this eventually, if you are so fortunate. I foresee you will become a champion of our ways should you join us."
"Whyy duh hellz wud I evuh wantz tuh doo dhatz?" Laertia inquired, though to her own disquiet she did not immediately say no.
"Because Ursula needs you. But Ursula does not need a daughter. When our coven lives...you will have sisters..." the fiend wearing the bloody face of an old woman promised, her smile growing wider.
"Real sisters. I will reward you for bringing me to flesh with the one thing Ursula will never give you, no matter how many you kill for her..."
Laertia blinked and suddenly she wasn't in the rain soaked jungle. She was instead in what appeared to be guest quarters of dark stone, standing in front of a mirror, wearing a long sleeved white set of robes with the jagged black crescent that adorned The United's forehead on the cuffs.
The old woman appeared behind her in the mirror. Laertia went still, not sure what sort of trick this was as she turned around to face her. She now looked normal, no maggots. The moldy sulphur of her eyes remained however. Laertia felt sick yet not sick, staring at that face, that pleasant face, and knowing the horror that lay beneath.
The United kept her distance at least, and it spoke volumes as to how lonely Laertia Io truely felt in the galaxy at times that she did not respond to what The United said next.
"I offer to be what Ursula will never be. I offer to be your parent..." The United offered with seemingly all sincerity, her smile now looking far more natural, disturbingly.
"Yooz wud soonuh kyllz mee." Laertia finally found the strength to say, after a moment of processing it, then another moment of reprocessing it.
"How would you know that?" The United asked. "There must be sisters in a coven, and all sisters must have a mother. And the Mother only stays the Mother if she treats those in the coven like her own children. You would be my firstborn, in a sense...my personal apprentice. My daughter. That is what you want, is it not? A Mother? To guide you? To care about you? To make sure you are not utterly alone?"
Laertia refused to answer the smiling old woman, not just because she refused to give the schutta ammo...
But because she genuinely could not figure out why she had not said no yet...
But Laertia backed away.
"Yorr a lyar." Laertia said simply. "Yuh'd sayy annytingz tuh seekaype dhis swamp..."
The United seemed disappointed but set the brush aside on a shelf.
"I keep my bargains. Think of all you could become with my wisdom. You side with Ursula...what are you going to have? A life spent killing people unafraid to follow the truth the whole galaxy is slowly coming towards: a golden age of The Darkness..." The United proclaimed. "Your pathetic little band cannot make a dent in our population now. No matter how many futures you interrupt. In the end the light will be crushed. Forever, this time. You will be but a mere foot note in history. Save your soul. Embrace the Bogan." The old woman encouraged earnestly, stepping towards her. "You could be a conquerer. An eternal gladiator of the darkness, not some blunt club your master can swing."
Laertia blinked and suddenly she was aboard her ship, inside her pink captains quarters, in her black streetwear, spiky jacket and all. The United looked different as well, no longer in that regal gray and white gown but in a simple white T-Shirt and white jeans. Her eyes were brown, human looking.
"You have not said no." The United noted, smirking.
"Dhiss iz a pretti stwaynge..." Laertia growled nervously. She'd have been more certain of what to do had she been merely offered power. Laertia was less certain what to do by the second.
The United continued to smile that motherly smile. "Let's do a test run of my parenting skills. How about I read you a story?
Laertia had had enough.
The padawan realized all this was illusion. Inside her head, she was the boss. She willed a lightsaber to existance. The one she used in the real world hissed its all green core and white aura out. She pointed it threateningly at The United.
The United smiled wider, holding her arms out.
"Go ahead. I'm unarmed."
"Yorr a combynayshun ov psyykopathhs..." Laertia snapped.
"I can feel your anger." The United replied, closing her eyes. "But you have still not said no. Why?"
Laertia did not answer. The horror and lonliness of the streets entered her gray eyes.
"Have you ever even been hugged?"
Laertia felt her heart fracture a little. Ursula had patted her on the back. But she had never hugged her. Laertia had never once been given a hug. Not by any of the Marksmen. Or anyone before that.
The United stepped closer, still holding out her arms. "Join us. Be our champion. Join us and we will be your guide forever." The old woman called out in a multitude of voices. "Join us. Serve us the flesh of your own master and become the first, the best, the most treasured of all my daughters. Your sisters shall be jealous of the open adoration we shall give you. They shall fight to obtain even an ounce of the attention you will receive. Let us be your mother, Laertia. Let yourself be our daughter." The United pleaded warmly, in that same multitude of voices. "You only need let the darkness in..."
She blinked and the old woman was gone but she was surrounded by hundreds of white gowned, hooded witches in an ancient stone chamber with that weird, jagged crescent.
"JOIN US. BECOME OUR SISTER. LET US SHOW YOU TRUE FREEDOM." The women, both young and old, spoke in unison. "LET US BE YOUR MOTHER. LET US. LET US. LET US."
They all suddenly seemed to burst into blood and maggots that gathered at the center, compacting and reconstructing into The United in her gray and white gown. Her skin twitched and shivered from the maggots crawling underneath it for a second before she opened her eyes, smiled warmly, and held out her arms, the setting shifting back to her quarters.
"Become my daughter, Laertia..." The United said with motherly affection that Io genuinely could not tell if it was fake or not. It was said with such warmness, such earnestness, that it made her blood chill at the idea something this revolting could fake that.
A small rebellious thought entered her head...what if it wasn't?
The United made one last push as she approached, almost angelic in her expression, even with the rotting eyes. "All you need do is call me your mother, and it will be true. Then you will never be alone again. You will always have someone who adores you..."
Laertia hesitated as the old woman spoke...but Laertia's character did not come from anywhere that had not been self imposed first.
She called on the light for strength, letting the confusion and anger recede from her mind. She knew what she had to do.
As The United took another step Laertia struck, but not at The United. She struck at the walls of her quarters. Blood started leaking out and a cut appeared on The United's face, leaking red. She hissed in fury as she withdrew.
A golden lightsaber appeared in her hand, a single elegant rod of metal, from which a red blade emitted.
"That was a mistake, Laertia. You cannot defeat me. I command the wisdom and fighting skill, and more importantly, the will of hundreds of witches..." The United snapped, her angelic, motherly face gone, now writhing with a frustrated sneer, the maggots wriggling underneath.
"I WUD NEVUH EVUH BEETWAYY URSY TOO A TWO BITT BULLY LYKE YOO GATHERRIN' OV JACCKALLS!" Laertia shouted defiantly. "You failed, Laydee. I amm a Jehdie. I lyved muh wholl lyfe wit nuthin, nott evun a payrent, annd I'm still stanndin'! And evun iff yoo cud bee a muther tuh meez, I could nevuh stomach lettin yoo kyll all dhose poor peopull ovuh annd ovuh!"
The United sneered at this, brandishing her blade in an Ataru stance.
"So be it...Jedi..." The United snarled, face and arms rotting on the bone until she was a patchwork of rancid flesh crawling with maggots in an elegant dress soaked with spoiled blood. Her eyes burst with blood and worms.
"If you will not be my most treasured daughter, then you will be merely another jedi to kill over and over and over. In every tortuous way we can dream up. Ready to die?" It asked, maggots wriggling from its nose.
"I wuz borrn redeez, muthurfetherr." Laertia snapped back, going into her preferred form one stance. The maggot ridden corpse snarled unnaturally and lunged...
She hadn't thought about her battle with that creature in her head in a long time. She was creeping closer to the outer doors, waiting and looking for any sort of threat that might endanger them.
It never ceased to disturb her how on the money the old woman had turned out to be in regards to Ursula. It made following her former mentor's old request all the more rediculous, when she admitted it to herself. But she had cared for Ursula, for what the Marksmen stood for, too much to sell out. Though what happened next had been strangely painful.
Io's sensors lit up. There was a small set of mines ahead, buried under rocks. Flicking her free hand like the magician she was, she did something else with her teleportation ability. Something she had never seen anybody else who could teleport do. She teleported the mine. The first time she had shown a Jedi she could do that, he had gone to the local cantina five minutes later to get a drink. She teleported the mines out of the way to a safe distance from Rimini and the others, and spotted hidden turrets, also stategically placed under rocks in the teams path, and wiggled her fingers playfully, dancing a little in her power armor. The turrets were permanently reprogrammed. Ionize was another Force power she had learned on the streets, long before becoming Ursula's student.
But not her daughter.
That battle with The United still gave her nightmares, because for just a split second, and no more she truly had been uncertain as to whether she would reject the crone's offer. But she had made her choice, and did not regret it. But that uncertainty before the choice still troubled her. She doubted anyone would understand if she explained it.
"I thinx itz sayfe..." she whispered at [member="Bella Rimini"] and the others. "Doorz arr inn spyttinn diztince. Redee onn yorr go, Mastuh Rimini..."
