Private Day of Activation

[The Amalgam]

Wearing: Resistance Epidermis

Armed With: Skin Shears (Purple Split-Saber)

Objective: Welcome Percival Io to life.

It was the days of yore, before the discovery of Khemost, but after the coordinates for it had been recovered.

The Amalgam had been asked to Xiphos' quarters aboard The Leviathan of Sev Tok. and the master witch, curious, had attended. By Cultist Law, they were married after all. The Darth Phyre within her, casually observing , had a feeling why and grew excited.

"Yoohooooo?" The Amalgam called out as she entered the quarters. She went over to the photos of her, Xiphos and Maple on the shelves, running her white gloved fingers over them.

She smiled as she felt Xiphos' mad presence behind her and she turned, swishing raven black hair about, blinking dead purple eyes. Xiphos was wearing her spiky black biker leathers

"If you think I don't notice the Cult aesthetic in your interior design you're dreaming..." The Amalgam said coyly.

Xiphos said nothing, only holding up a little box.

The Amalgam's breath caught in her throat and she took it, opening it to reveal a silver ring with a purple crystal.

"I see you're in one of your warm moods towards me..." The Amalgam spoke softly, not at all her usual, mocking self.

"As sappy as it might sound, it reminded me of your eyes." Xiphos replied back nervously.

"I hope it reminded you of more than a few other things about me..." The Amalgam hissed passionately, slipping the ring onto her wedding finger.

"It may have." Xiphos acknowledged.

"This hot and cold thing you and me have going can be sooooo aggravating..." The Amalgam hissed, hooking her arms around Xiphos.

Then she smiled.

"Except when it isn't..." she said, voice and flesh warping to that of Darth Phyre mid sentence.

The red headed Force Spawn's eyebrow raised as she watched a faint smile spread across the pale skinned heretic's face.

"You shouldn't be so scared to smile when you see me..." Phyre smirked, running a finger under Xiphos's cheek.

"Would you like to see him?" Xiphos asked.

"He's ready?" Phyre asked.

Xiphos nodded.

Phyre smiled. "We are not saying hello to our son dressed in our work clothes."

Ten minutes later...

"By the way, Xiphos..." Phyre spoke as she exited the wardrobe, wearing a long, full sleeved white gown and a golden tiara.

"When did you kill the actual Arianna Belasko?" Phyre asked playfully, sitting next to Xiphos, wearing a dark blue kimono.

Xiphos snorted.

"Over a decade ago. What gave it away?"

"Arianna...the real Arianna... actually got bored if she went more than an hour without killing." Phyre pointed out. "That, and I went on a spiritual journey to chaos on a hunch. Found her burning on its plains."

"Lemme guess. She swore vengeance."

"On the contrary, she was extremely impressed with you. If anyone was worthy to be her daughter, you proved yourself worthy. She told me to pass that compliment to you. I myself am impressed at your treachery and deception. But Arianna's mind, her guise, her knowledge, is Cultist property. Will you object to me infecting her with a copy of my Lucretia Personality?"

Xiphos shook her head, having to trust Vivian was powerful enough to withstand the attempt.

She had to to believe Vivian was powerful enough. Otherwise, what was the point in trying to kill Darth Phyre in the end if even her most powerful allies were no good?

Besides, on this day of her first "Organic" Son being "born", she found she could love Phyre enough to give her a shot at it.

Laertia was very very confused about her real feelings.

"The Brain Demon is pleased with your lack of hesitance." Phyre said, pleased. She rose up, kneeling before the Brain Demon Shrine in the corner..

Phyre's face bubbled and rippled, detaching from the rest of her head, sprouting tendrils, the now deformed, silently screaming visage scurrying off. Phyre took a moment to let the flesh on her face rapidly regrow before rejoining Xiphos.

"Thank you for being so understanding..." Phyre cooed, stroking Xiphos's face.

"I'm figuring, our time alone with Percival could be moments we could both be in a sort of...'truce'...a ceasefire." Xiphos suggested.

"An excellent choice of words..." Phyre hissed, kissing Xiphos on the cheek repeatedly. "Peace may be a lie...but ceasefires do end. And begin..."

Xiphos let Phyre continue doing this for a few moments before standing up and leading her to a well lit chamber that had Atrisian Cuisine prepared.

"Live Squid..." Phyre said, mouth watering as she sat down at her plate. "How did you know?"

"Batty mentioned it..." Xiphos spoke, growing more at ease around Phyre, her instincts and morals and feelings deeply at war as she sat right next to her far less public about it wife. To marry one member of the Cult was to marry all members. Xiphos had not been the first outsider the Cult considered hardcore AF enough to let one of their members marry them.

Phyre examined a crystal bottle of red liquid.

"General Chang's Blood Sake..." Phyre remarked. "Was it the Conjoined or The Arena who told you?"

"The Arena." Xiphos spoke coyly. "Phyre...I'm curious about something..."

"I'm all ears."

"Do you have a...private name? A name you use besides Phyre? When the mood strikes you?"

Phyre was paused.

"I've never needed one..." Phyre confessed, taking Xiphos's hand and kissing the fingertips daintily. "Feel free to keep calling me Amy, if it suits you. I did eat her, after all, might as well get max use out of my purchase."

In spite of how absolutely morbid the comment was, it made Xiphos laugh. Genuine, not forced. Phyre broke into laughter as well and they began eating dinner.

It was bizarre to Xiphos how casual Phyre became, in private. If Xiphos wasn't in the know, Phyre wouldn't have come off, at least at first, as a person capable of the horrific things Xiphos knew her to be guilty of.

Indeed, Amy seemed oddly understanding as Xiphos began confessing some of her smaller stresses at running the house very quietly.

"You scheduled this little get-together just in time." Phyre said earnestly. "You've had me worried."

"You really mean that?" Xiphos asked.

"Always." Phyre answered.

There was silence as she watched Phyre consume one of the small squid on her plate, watching a tentacle squirmed in her mouth before she sucked it in, chewing.

Xiphos took her chopsticks and picked up another squirming squid and fed it to Phyre, who chewed with relish. Phyre took her own chop sticks and fed Xiphos slices of raw Horse Meat Basashi. So the dinner went.

The pair had then gone into a brightly lit chamber with bright flowers. Percival waited, inactive, in a white business suit and white tie with moon shaped cuff links.

"Ohhhh, he's adorable!" Phyre gushed, going over to him. "How does it work?"

"When we're alone with him, you can activate his hidden memory to talk to him. He'll wake up with this hidden memory active. To turn it on, simply say the phrase 'Colliding Lilacs'. To deactivate it, say 'Departing Sunflowers'. To switch between Percival, Prescott, and Galahad, say 'Breaching shotgun squirrels'.

Phyre raised an eyebrow. "Breaching shotgun squirrels..."

Xiphos shrugged. "The codeword chit is hard sometimes."

"Oh, gods if you only knew how much it makes my cult sweat at the idea we will run out of names for Multiples..."

Xiphos blinked.

"Phyre...you may not have needed a private name...did you ever have a Cult name, like Batty?

Phyre shrugged.

"My Cult designate was The Phalanx..." Phyre answered silkenly.

"How come you never use it?" Xiphos asked.

"Rank does have its privileges." Phyre smirked. "The Cult could take typical Sith names, of course, but they always left that singular honor to me, as I was the first to teach The Brain Demon's ways."

They both then turned their attention to Percival, who sat in front of a mirror, eyes open but inactive.

"How do we bring him to life?" Phyre asked.

Xiphos went over to a table and took two brushes, handing one to her.

"Comb his hair with me."

Phyre took the brush and began gently combing Percival's hair alongside Xiphos at the same time.

Phyre felt a very strange bliss she had never experienced before...

 

[Percival Io]

Before he opened his eyes or heard a sound, Percival's first sensation was the stroke of a comb through his hair. His wild curls would go on to gain a reputation of their own for the time, effort, and patience required to tame them. But here, as he felt for the first time the tug of the teeth against his scalp, they were smooth and perfectly coiffed, like the carved ringlets of a marble statue.

All systems came online. Oh, but that isn't enough. How to describe the moment of your birth? What words could convey the beginning of consciousness?

His eyes twitched visibly beneath his lids, as if he were dreaming. Out of the dream he came, lashes fluttering as he awoke for the first time. He gazed sleepily at the two women before him, lips parting as if to speak, only to sigh in contentment instead. He realized that he liked the feeling of having his hair combed. He found it soothing.

He looked directly at Xiphos with the tenderness of a child, and mouthed the word Mother. Then his gaze flicked toward the Amalgam.

Sharper instincts kicked in. In an instant he had seized her wrist, stopping her mid-comb. Percival may have been childlike at this stage, but he was not as ignorant and defenseless as a newborn. His databases had listed the leader of the Cult as untrustworthy; he could never allow himself to be in such a vulnerable state around her again.

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

Darth Phyre smiled as Percival Io awoke, immediately identifying who was friend and who was potentially foe.

Not at all offended by his instinct driven reaction to catching her wrist...a subtle reminder to her that Xiphos had final say on her creations, Phyre only chuckled pleasantly.

"It's alright, Percival..." Xiphos said with a smile, running her fingertips through his hair. "Amy's not here to hurt you."

Phyre continued gazing at him pleasantly.

"Hello Percival. I'm Darth Phyre. It's an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She stole a glance at Xiphos.

"May I?"

Xiphos nodded.

"Colliding Lilacs..." Phyre said, to turn on his hidden database.

Needless to say, all those warnings in his head would vanish at those words.

Phyre let him keep his hold on her wrist, even playfully touching his knuckles while waiting for his hidden programming to activate...

 

[Percival Io]

Percival's eyes followed Phyre's, facing his Mother. He was still looking at her when he heard the coded command.

"Colliding Lilacs..."

For an instant, his expression flickered with the bitter realization that he had no choice but to obey. He stared at Xiphos, his wounded gaze hot with betrayal. But before any tears could fall or a cry of impotent rage could be loosed from his lips, the hidden programming kicked in. His hold on Phyre's arm released, and his eyes shut.

When next he opened them, he saw the world through a different perspective.

The Amalgam

 

[The Amalgam]

Seeing Percival Io 's eyes flash with pain, then betrayal, brought water to Xiphos' own eyes. She could only hope he would understand. Someday.

Before he shut off she grasped his hand silently begging him for forgiveness. Even though he wouldn't technically remember anything of what happened today, or any other time he was with Phyre. The next thing he would know, he would be walking along the decks of the Leviathan of Sev Tok, like he had always been there, the first Organic Son of his Mother.

Phyre noticed Xiphos' pain.

Should I have waited? Phyre asked telepathically, in both her voice and The Amalgam's, still brushing Percival's knuckles gently as he reawakened.

No. The band-aid was gonna get ripped off sooner or later. Xiphos replied. Besides, he'll be used to it every time this hidden programming kicks in.

Phyre clasped Percival's hand.

"How are you feeling, my son?"

 

[Percival Io]

"How are you feeling, my son?"

The Chaplain smiled like a child, innocent and trusting. "Fine, Mother," he replied sweetly. "How are you? Is there something you'd like me to do?"

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

"I'm just fine, Son." Phyre assured Percival Io , fascinated at being stared at without fear or anger by an innocent being.

"For now, the only thing I would like for you to do is relax..."

"Yes, Son..." Xiphos agreed, running her fingers through his hair.

"We have the whole day ahead of us..."

Minutes later...

"Percival..." Phyre said after a sip of black tea, sitting next to Xiphos while they both sat across from Percival in Xiphos's living room. Xiphos felt oddly comfortable with Phyre's hand entwining with hers, though not as comfortable as she was when it was The Battalion, who had given her and Phyre their space for today while she led an assault on a Galactic Alliance capital ship, with the intent of stealing it. A Starhawk, she believed.

"I was wondering how you felt about studying the ways of the Cult. I'm hoping you might consider partaking in a ritual against our enemies someday soon. You live in a house of bloodthirsty warriors and sorceresses, so you'll encounter such things often. We're going to begin the journey towards Khemost in a few days, by the way..." Phyre said to him. "You don't have to give me an answer on that right now, but keep it in mind. Now...what would you like to do with your first hour alive?"

 

[Percival Io]

Percival held a teacup in his hand, fascinated by the feeling of heat it gave off. The delicate warmth of the rising steam tickled his nose, but he had yet to take a taste, still relishing in the new sensation of touch and temperature.

He glanced up when Phyre spoke his name, immediately attentive, and watched as she sipped her tea. In imitation of her, he finally raised the cup to his lips. The heat spread from his mouth to his throat to his belly, warming him from the inside.

"Of course," Percival said with a smile. This version of him, hampered by the secret programming, existed to please. "I'm happy to help." Draining his cup of tea, he poured himself another, this time preparing it a different way. More sugar to sweeten it.

"You don't have to give me an answer on that right now, but keep it in mind. Now... what would you like to do with your first hour alive?"

"I don't know," he answered shyly. "I've only been alive for a few minutes. I don't have any likes or dislikes yet." He stirred the sugar into the tea until it dissolved. "What do you like to do?"

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

Darth Phyre smiled.

"I'm so glad you asked..."

A half hour later...

Darth Phyre, Dark Lady of Obsession, entertained both Percival and Xiphos by playing, of all things, the harp.

Xiphos had her hand on Percival's shoulder, trying to hide how deeply conflicted she was.

"Do you play a musical instrument, Xiphos?" Phyre asked.

"No." Xiphos answered.

"It's a common thing many Sith lack..." Phyre noted. "An appreciation for music. I find mastering an instrument inspires discipline. Learning to pick out the subtleties of each note is a lot like learning to raise or lower the temperature by this degree or that degree."

Xiphos was pure cognitive dissonance. Loving and hating her/Amy...her...Amy...in the same breath.

"Cultivating your mind will make your ability to think outside the box greater and greater. You have been alive only a short while, so my words will only make sense as you mature later." Phyre said to Percival.

"I never took you for a music player."

"I rarely have an opportunity to play for anyone." Phyre responded. "Say, while I am showing our son how to play, may I tell him the story of how we met?"

Xiphos raised an eyebrow.

"Depends on what you mean by that." Xiphos said slowly. "Are we talking about Amy before you...or Amy after you?"

"After, obviously..." Phyre answered pleasantly. "I don't count what happened at Kar Shian as the first. For me, Percival, the first time we met was when we spoke under a flag of truce. This was before your Mother's rebellion. Just before it, in fact."

Phyre plucked the strings delicately.

"Your Mother tried everything she could think of to sway Jedi opinion in the limited time she had before the invasion of Dantooine. She tried up to the very last minute. But she hedged her bets by going to me one day..."


Laertia Io walked towards the white Pyramid temple after having been given permission to land on Kar Shian.

It was snowy, of course. It was always snowy on this world. The Dark Side hissed at her, but she cared not for it's promises.

Laertia was, first and foremost, a woman who believed in producing solid, duracrete results over talk.

The Jedi refused to listen. She was at her limit trying to understand this ridiculous insistence on fighting it out alone at the expense of the southern reaches of the Galaxy. The Bryn'adul were murdering everyone they could get their hands on. Even AFTER Nar Kreeta, they STILL were focused only on the Sith.

They were betraying the whole Galaxy for their selfish grudges, and they couldn't see it. Didn't want to see it.

Laertia DID want to be a Jedi, but not at that price. Not at the Price of being so obsessed with old grudges that it's all you focus on when REAL problems need solving.

As the desperation and determination to oppose the Jedi, stop them from succeeding in a decision that would lead to billions of deaths mounted, she had wracked her damaged brain for a solution. She was very much a crude instrument still at this point in her life. Couldn't see a realistic solution beyond fighting. This wasn't a thing to talk out.

She at last regretted the hell out of coming out of retirement.

She had a panic attack as she approached, getting further and further from The Shadow Bride, the white temple getting larger and larger. She stopped, the snow falling on her biker gear clad figure, wondered once more about her options.

What would taking the Barash Vow accomplish? It'd basically be given the Jedi Order what it wanted: People backing down to let them do what they wanted without any ability to interfere on her part. It'd be tantamount to making no argument at all. She might as well have never bothered voicing her opposition in the first place.

The Bryn'adul would storm the core and slaughter everyone unless they were met decisively. But all that dominated their minds was the Sith. Always the Sith.

Laertia had been killing them for years. Hadn't made a dent. Or a difference. How was she supposed to respect and trust the experience of the robe-wearers over her own? They'd been fighting the war the same way for the past 700 years. They were going in circles, as far as she could tell. The same type of war, with the usual personalities in control of the slaughter.

Maybe... maybe they have a bloody nose coming, a dangerous part of her thought. A part of her she had tried very hard to not listen to TOO often, because not only did she KNOW that part of her was dangerous, she APPRECIATED the fact it was dangerous.

But the only other option she could see was leaving with her tail between her legs. Groveling to those same people who were going to get billions killed.

If there was one thing that could be said of Laertia, it was that she didn't grovel.

Still, she questioned herself. Heavily.

Shs tried. She really tried to see another solution.

A solution beyond fighting the Order. A solution that could let her live amongst them with the choice they had made.

But all the other solutions she could see were ones that repulsed her morally. Her pride was a distant second in comparison towards her disgust at what the Jedi would enable if they got their way.

She winced. Even here, even this far away, she could feel the unrestrained slaughter the Bryn'adul engaged in. The cry of their victims echoed in her every night now, driving her to a lack of sleep.

Syd...Syd helped...when possible...but there was so much...so much Syd couldn't block out.

Since feeling all that death at Nar Kreeta, she had started feeling it elsewhere. It followed her to her sleep. Families literally ripped apart. World's burning. The memory of a Culture being blotted out. Nowhere to run, except a refugee camp filled with food and pity.

They needed a new family, the one's who survived. They needed justice.

Justice the Jedi were ignoring to fight their precious Sith.

Who could respect that? How could these supposedly moral people ignore the death of billions. Total unrestrained Genocide?

Laertia could do neither of the above.

But turning to these psychopaths...how could she justify that?

She had never faced an enemy like the Bryn'adul. She barely knew anything about them. They had to be stopped. With the same level of savagery.

She had never met many as savage as Brain Demon Cultists.

She felt another panic attack start as she got closer and closer. Her heart pounded.

Finally, she spotted the entrance, saw two Brain Demon Cultists standing guard. She stiffened as she felt their more powerful than normal Aura's for a Cultist. Foul, rotting corruption. Themis' teachings gave her slight protection. Emphasis on slight.

"Greetings, Laertia Io. We're so pleased to receive you as our guest, unlike the last time you were here..." said a beautiful, hourglass figured orange skinned Twi'lek woman in a skintight white catsuit that revealed every muscle.

"I am known as The Arena..." The Twi'lek Witch added, smiling flirtatiously at the pale skinned, scarred warrior with messy raven hair.

An equally statuesque, pure blood Sith Woman with slicked back midnight hair in an equally skintight white catsuit took a bow.

"I am The Conjoined. Both of us hold the rank of Collective. Just under that of our Matriarch." The Conjoined said with a deeper contralto.

"I diddintz comes heer tuh fytez."

"We know."

"I don'tz needz tuh beez unduh garrdz."

"We know."

"So wyllz yooz letz mee passs...orr iz yorr masstuh feelinz morr murrkureeallz dhen yooshuuallz?"

"Our religion...and, perhaps, our sense of professional courtesy compels us to warn you, Laertia." The Arena began.

"We are not fools. We saw what you said at that gathering of Jedi. By now you no doubt have come to realize they will not budge...leaving 'you' very few options." The Conjoined told her. Laertia was unsettled at how her words lacked smugness or condescension, like what she heard from the Jedi. It made her listen.

"We know you intend to ask the Amalgam for her aid in your...venture."

"Yoo dyssaproovez?"

"Far from it." The Arena replied smoothly. "Change is coming. The old factions creak under the weight of their own arrogance and incompetence. Greed. Selfishness."

"They will let The Bryn'adul have their fun. All for the glory of killing their usual prey and driving them to extinction." The Conjoined hissed.

"And then sweep in to fix the devastated worlds, repopulate them, and be hailed as saviors." The Arena cooed softly.

She stepped closer. Laertia was very quiet now. Because it made sense. The Arena spoke cynically, but her words carried the terrible weight of education to go with that cynicism.

"You will try to convince Amy to help you." The Conjoined said smoothly, slinking towards her, circling her.

"In all likelihood, you will succeed in convincing her..." The Arena surmised. "We have no particular objection to uniting with you. You have more in common with us than you do them."

"But you are still owed a warning." The Conjoined spoke. "If you cross this barrier we guard, you will be commiting treason against the Jedi Order. Whether you succeed or fail at convincing Amy to help you, you will be committing treason just by walking into the temple and asking for help."

"Should you fail to convince Amy, we will permit you to leave this place with your life. We won't even bother blackmailing you. But you shall live the rest of your life knowing in your darkest, most desperate moment, you sought the aid of the Dark Side. Whatever happens to you where the Jedi are concerned will be 'your' problem at that point." The Conjoined assured her. "But if you succeed..."

"If you succeed, you will be aligning with those they would consider the worst of the worst. For something they view as very limited and shortsighted: stopping an army that does not truly have the Dark Side's favor." The Arena continued, circling her.

"You shall be cast out, shunned. Declared a traitor and a criminal." The Conjoined continued, folding her arms. "You will be never trusted by them ever again. You will be hunted forever. Those who follow you shall share in your fate. You will cause them misery. Pain on a scale they have never known, and would never have experienced, had you not come to us for help."

"Even if you succeed, even if you survive the 'many' forces who will vie to destroy you...the cost may well be your sanity, perhaps your very soul, and the souls and sanity of those who would join you." said the Arena, running a finger under Laertia's chin. Laertia held back her instinctive revulsion.

"We constantly try to... 'corrupt' you, as the Jedi would put it. Amy will constantly try to 'corrupt' you and those around you." came the sudden whisper of the Conjoined in Laertia's ear from behind. Laertia barely avoided flinching.

"We will push you to be aggressive and murderous, for it shall be your only hope of survival." The Arena whispered softly into the other ear.

"And if you cannot be either of those...then at least be vicious and clever..." the Conjoined advised.

"And if you cannot be those...any of those...than quite simply put, you won't need to worry about us...your enemies will do the work we won't bother with." The Arena finished.

"Above all, do not forget this: Whatever you do while aligned with us, at the end of the day, we do all these terrible things because we want the best for you. For society."

Both Witches stood aside from a shaken Laertia.

They hadn't even BOTHERED trying to bullchit her. The Conjoined, to Laertia's horrified realization, actually believed those words she had just uttered.

Laertia took a few deep breaths and took a few steps closer to the triangular entryway.

She stopped just before it. Trying to peer into the blackness. She blinked.

The two witches slowly joined her by the entrance.

"Ah...doubts. We would have been disappointed if you had stepped in without hesitation." The Arena spoke in a reassuring manner.

"Without doubt, one cannot have true faith." The Conjoined agreed. "Here we are. The final precipice before treason."

"One little step. Amazing, what a little step can do, given the path a step falls on." The Arena spoke.

"If you wish to turn back now, this will be your last chance. We can chalk this up to one, long, extended moment of doubt on your part." The Conjoined offered, a hand squeezing her shoulder in a sympathetic manner.

"We'll forget the whole thing ever happened." The Arena spoke with a smile. Laertia's disquiet deepened as she realized this wasn't a lie either: They really WOULD let her leave. No fuss.

"Laertia...you want some real, genuinely good advice?" The Conjoined asked.

Laertia shrugged, but inclined her head in wary curiosity.

The Conjoined softly cupped Laertia's face.

"Take your ship...and go. Run away. Far away. Forget us. Forget the Cult. Forget Amy. You have 'nothing' left to prove to her. The final price may well be one you cannot afford to pay. A life as a pariah, a permanent outcast from traditional civilization, is potentially what awaits you beyond that archway." The Conjoined advised.

"Go home. It's a big Galaxy. With lots of places to run to. The problem will almost certainly fix itself, eventually." The Arena surmised. "Sure, it will take many oceans of blood. But the problem WILL fix itself. The Force would never allow such brutes to triumph."

"But howz manee wyll dyez whylez duh Foyce iz takinz itz sweetz tyme?" Laertia asked herself almost inaudibly, the snow covered her hair and jacket in white.

"Yes...there lies the dilemma. Can you live with yourself, letting it all happen as the Force wills it? Or rather, as the Jedi will it?"

"Leave now, and you retain your honor." The Arena chirped.

"But what's your honor gonna be worth, looking at all those corpses?" The Conjoined asked.

Laertia turned her back on the archway. She started to walk back to her ship.

"Farewell, Laertia Io. We wish you the best." The Arena called out.

"Never regret your decision!" The Conjoined called out as well.

Laertia stopped, and reached the moment that would shape the rest of her life.

It started as a welling up from within. Of seeing Nar Kreeta fall. Of seeing it's buildings, it's streets, it's history, collapsing into the mouths of kilometer long worms. Of feeling those she led into battle die. Of feeling those she had tried to save die. Of feeling that death in her and echoing across the Galaxy.

Her thoughts of everyone she had ever loved dying as brutally, as pointlessly, as messily as those the Bryn'adul killed sent sharp pains into her very soul.

She saw the smug faces of the Jedi, of Ryv Karis, so secure in their influence, so unwilling to put aside past grudges. So hell bent of fighting the Dark Side of the Sith, the Dark Side of everyone else meant nothing.

She thought of her own guilt at surviving Nar Kreeta. Of her sheer, unrelenting horror at what the Jedi were allowing to occur.

She turned around, faced them.

The Witches stood aside.

Laertia broke into a running sprint and leapt through the archway into the darkness beyond.

She found herself in an all white main hall, walls soaked in blood, pieces of flesh with runes burned into them nailed into the pearly white stone.

A large table, round and with a red pentagram at the center, lay ahead. Seated at the table was the lone figure.

"No act of faith pleases me more than a leap, Julia." The Amalgam spoke, raising a crystal goblet of absinthe in her direction. "Please, sit."

Laertia shook the snow off her and slowly approached the white lingerie clad Sithspawn. She took an offered seat.

"I would offer you some absinthe, but I'd rather not aggravate your brain injuries." The black haired beauty said
with a hunger in her words that Laertia had never heard before. "How about desert? One of my personas is 'wonderful' at making Fruitcake. I'll have to ask which one though. I...uh...kinda forgot."

"No thannx."

The Amalgam shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The Amalgam leaned forward, and Laertia noted with disgust and revulsion the flicker of lust that crossed her former Master's dead purple gaze, and the flutter of lust deep within herself in response. She didn't dare think of Syd. It was difficult enough blocking out her thoughts from a bond that was getting stronger by the day.

"So..." The Amalgam spoke. "I'm told you have a teensy, weensy problem involving not so teensy weensy Crab People."

"Duh Jedi arr gonnaz letz hole worrldz burnnz."

"They do that all the time, sweetie. What else is new?" The Amalgam asked with a snort, sipping her absinthe. "You set yourself up for disappointment, you know. You shouldn't have expected anything but a knee jerk reaction to go fight the Sith. We have the Jedi on a positively pavlovian response these days."

She took another sip.

"So you desire my aid. After what? Months of hunting and killing us?"

"Dhis ting wyth duh Brinnyduelz...dhis goez beeyonndz uss atz eaachodduh's throattz."

"Are you so certain, Julia?" The Amalgam asked with a deadly purr in her voice. "I kinda 'like' being at each other's throats. Gets my Hyperdrive revved up when the squeezing starts."

Laertia wanted to vomit at the implication of that statement. Had she been thinking more objectively, she might have noticed something was off about The Amalgam. How she was too casual. Too seductive.

In every prior encounter, The Amalgam had attacked her for the pure thrill of fighting her. To say her 'current' approach was throwing Laertia off her game was an understatement.

The Amalgam shuddered in delight, feeling Laertia's revulsion.

"Oh, Sweetie, denial isn't just a river in Egypt." she said, breaking the Fourth Wall in front of her. She reached over to touch Laertia's hands. Laertia struggled with herself not to pull them away.

"This must be killing you on the inside, coming here, asking me for help. After all we've done to each other. Not that I don't appreciate the maturity it must have taken to swallow your pride. You must really mean what you said in front of those Jedi."

"Duh kwestchun iz, wyllz yooz hellpz meez?"

The Amalgam shrugged.

"What's the goal? And more importantly, what would the point be? You know the Sith Empire is going to collapse, right? Carnifex is letting the whole thing crash and burn. To aid the Empire will be aiding a dying corpse."

"Evunz a rottyng corrpse feedz duh beestz annd innsektz."

"Awwww, sucking up to me by quoting Kreia!" The Amalgam gushed. "True, while the Empire's collapsing, it 'would' be the perfect opportunity to loot and steal their assets and war materials. And no doubt, the border being preserved halts the Bryn'adul advance by so much...but Laertia..."

The Amalgam squeezed Laertia's hand softly.

"Is it truly worth it to you? The Bryn'adul 'will' be defeated. The Dark Side wills it to be so, regardless of whether the Sith fall or not. Their defeat might be hastened by our combined efforts. But not to a miraculous extent. Billions WILL die, regardless of what we accomplish. I 'do' have to think of my Cult. You're asking us to commit our resources, vast though they admittedly are, to help an empire that will fall, to halt an enemy that will be stopped eventually, whether we get involved or not. Even if we succeed, then what? Go back to killing each other?"

"Appathee iz Deth." Laertia responded firmly. "I gotz plannz fer duh afftawarrdz..."

"My Cult is of reasonable size. But we could only help you fight a war. We are only so many." The Amalgam purred pleasantly.

"I'm buildingz ann arrmee..."

The Amalgam raised an eyebrow.

"Behind the Order's back?" The Amalgam asked.

Laertia nodded.

Both eyebrows of The Amalgam raised.

"Well look at you, goin' all Sifo-Dyas on their ass. And look! You even got your own Sith Lord in the wings waiting to get in on the action!"

"Iz evvreeting a joke tuh yooz, Amalgam?"

"Just the funny parts." The Amalgam assured with a mischievous smirk.

Laertia battled down the lust she felt at seeing that smirk, strangling it. Heart pounded at seeing all the skin the Lingerie DIDN'T cover. She hated her for lying to her. Hated how she twisted her lingering feelings.

A part of her was giddy with excitement at seeing her. She didn't know WHAT Amy was to her. She had told herself a lot of things about the nature of her relationship with this murderous beast, and would continue to tell herself these things for years to come.

But as Amy rose up, the white lingerie covering only the essentials, for one instant, Laertia got past layers and layers of denial and admitted she had ALWAYS been attracted to this evil creature from the get go.

And as quickly as that realization bubbled up to the surface, her eyes following every flex of every muscle as The Amalgam walked over to her side of the table, silver stilettos clicking on a slightly blood stained floor, Laertia went back into all sorts of denial and compensation mentally, flinching as The Amalgam ran a finger across Laertia's cheek.

"Tell me, Julia, what will you do with this army you are building?"

"Kill duh Brinnyduelz. Beyonndz that, havventz thoughtz dhat farrz ahed."

The Amalgam sighed.

"Still a brute..." she said. Though it didn't hide the lust in her stare.

"Oh Julia, 'much' to learn, you still have."

"Iz dhat a yess?" Laertia asked.

The Amalgam paused, rubbing her chin in mock-thoughtfulness.

"Gee...lemme think..." she trailed. "You're asking this Cult to help stave off an apocalypse. And you put us in the curious position of having saved far more lives than we have ever taken should we succeed...that IS an admittedly 'fascinating' philosophical conundrum for a Sith to be in. Especially without any real gain."

"Yull getz yorr duuz, Amalgam." Laertia promised.

The Amalgam leaned against the table, white stockings covering her legs shimmering in the light. It made Laertia's damaged brain wild with a guilty lust she reviled herself for. She ignored it.

The Amalgam stared at her.

"You better be sure, Julia. If I say yes, we are in for the long haul." The Amalgam said with a sudden firmness out of place with her prior demeanor.

"We're going to do terrible, awful things to win. We're going to do them just to survive... provided I agree to this alliance. You can 'still' walk right out that door and forget you ever attempted this. I won't stop you." The Amalgam promised.

"I knowz wut I'mz doinz." Laertia replied.

The Amalgam smiled.

"Going once..."

Laertia flinched at the Amalgam gently stroked her face.

The Amalgam leaned into her ear and whispered.

"Walk away, Julia, walk away. I love you enough to let you. Even if it means we'll be enemies forever."

Laertia did not budge.

The Amalgam sat in Laertia's lap, arms hooking around her neck delicately.

"Going 'twice'..." The Amalgam trailed playfully, tapping Laertia's nose like a button.

Laertia said nothing.

"Is it really worth it, Laertia, to cast aside everything you are? Wanted to be? Are you even certain it's really the Bryn'adul that motivates you to reach out to me?" The Amalgam asked. "Are your motives pure?"

"Iff dhey arr, dhen I hopez dhey arr az puur az yorrz."

The Amalgam...and the Darth Phyre hiding inside her... chuckled at this.

"Sold." The Amalgam said merrily.

The Amalgam gently cupped Laertia's face.

"For the price of your soul. Which I shall do my best to save."

In spite of how much she was otherwise repulsed by The Amalgam, Laertia couldn't help but give a small chuckle, even as her sanity and her lust were having a knife fight somewhere in her subconscious. (Her Lust had a voice like Christopher Lambert, and it was winning. There can be only one!)

The Amalgam retrieved a chocolate chip cookie from a nearby plate and pushed it into Laertia's mouth...

...then broke the other half off and placed it in her own mouth.

What. The feth. Laertia thought to herself, weirded out by this strange approach Amy had decided to take.

She was deeply conflicted over whether or not she minded the new approach...


Present...

"Your mother and I have had a 'very' rocky relationship..." Phyre said, plucking sweet notes from the harp.

"Our House is defined by such things..." Xiphos spoke, haunted by the memory Phyre had just recalled.

"Percival, would you like to try playing the harp?" Phyre asked Percival Io . "Of course, if that's too boring...I could always teach you to fly a starfighter..."

 

[Percival Io]

Percival just took it all in. His head tilted to one side at the first note plucked by the harp, like a puppy hearing a new noise. Her playing quickly enthralled him, and he listened to the story she told with rapt attention.

"Percival, would you like to try playing the harp? Of course, if that's too boring... I could always teach you to fly a starfighter..."

"I would like to play it," Percival replied. "Then you can teach me to fly a starfighter afterwards." He walked over to the harp, leaving Xiphos' grasp, and once Phyre had left the seat he took it. After watching her movements, he could imitate the way in which she held her wrists and plucked the strings. A buried piece of programming resurfaced as he touched the instrument, and he was able to play a haunting melody with all the skill of an expert musician.

In the future, his harp-playing would accompany the religious ceremonies of his parish and in jam sessions with other instruments played by members of his House. This gentle music would soothe the turmoil of the troubled; it would help put baby Thel to sleep and entrance Rebecca, who could watch Percival play for hours. And in the end it would be the Chaplain's last refuge, something he could use to privately express his most complicated emotions.

But for now it was just a neat thing he had discovered. His smile at the end of his performance was childlike and simple. "Did you like it?" he asked Xiphos and Phyre, turning to face them.

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

"I adored it." Phyre said truthfully.

"As did I." Xiphos agreed, having been hypnotized by his beautiful playing.

She felt a stab of guilt for what she had done to give Phyre a son. She loved him like she loved all her sons (She even loved the Model 1 called Joaquin that couldn't stop laughing despite finding him kinda creepy as well) so it hurt more.

But being here, alone, peace and quiet, with a spouse and a child playing an instrument...it was what she had craved her whole life.

"You play beautifully..." Phyre added, going over to hug Percival, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Honey, let's take him flying." she said to Xiphos, who nodded.

"Excuse us for a few minutes son, we cannot fly around in this." Xiphos spoke, getting up and heading into the bedroom with Phyre.

When the door was shut, Phyre immediately kissed Xiphos.

"He's wonderful. I can't thank you enough for helping me create him." Phyre whispered.

The pair embraced, for a split second forgetting they were anything else other than married.

"I love you." Phyre whispered passionately as she kissed Xiphos again before pulling away to switch back to her usual Armor. Xiphos slipped back into her biker gear and the pair came out with a flight suit for Percival.

"Follow me, son." Phyre spoke happily, leading Percival by the hand just for the joy of it. Xiphos took his other hand.

Five minutes later.

Xiphos openly gawked at what she saw.

There were three of them. Three in the same hangar.

Three Royal Guard TIE fighters (Note: actual subs I made) gleamed under the lights.

"From my personal Collection." Phyre boasted. "The greatest starfighter ever made. Fitting it would defend an emperor. Sure, got his ass tossed down a shaft, but that is a surprisingly common way to die in that business, right after dungeon crawling and accidental hand gun discharge."

Phyre floated over to one with the Force.

"I scour the Galaxy to find them..." she said warmly to her newborn son. "Hop in."

Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Percival basked in their approval. While the two of them were gone, he looked down at this fingers, touching his fingertips together. He could pluck the strings of a harp. What else could he do?

Various subroutines scrolled through his mind. These fingers could play other instruments, should he wish. They could write in millions of languages and script forms, draw and paint. He could fold his hands to pray, or make a rude gesture. Fight an opponent, or kill them, or massage away aches and pains. His hands could both harm and heal, curse and bless...

Mother and Phyre returned, having changed their clothes. They brought a flight suit for him. He quickly changed into it, and followed them to the hangar.

There he was greeted by the sight of three TIE fighters. One was for him, another for Mother, and the last for Phyre. His databases recognized their significance, and their rarity. "Thank you," Percival said warmly, approaching the fighter closest to him and reaching out to touch the cool metal hull.

He already knew what to do. Climbing aboard the vessel, the cockpit closed over his head as he started up the engines.

The Amalgam

 

[The Amalgam]

Darth Phyre took the lead as they left the hangar.

"Every Nuetralizer on activation must taste combat. So it is with you. I have brought challenging prey, my Son. Exchange Pirates. They've been ambushing Ships along this old trade route for weeks. Ruthless. Deadly. Demonstrate your own lethality." Phyre explained to Percival Io

"We enjoy upsetting these people regularly..." Xiphos chuckled.

Phyre soon Spotted a Quasar Class Carrier, hiding behind a small planet. There were also Interdiction Mines laying about.

The warning signals started, and soon a few squadrons of fighters were hurtling their way.

Phyre dived in, as aggressive and savage as what she was named after, laser bolts lancing through the Darkness to splash three in the first five seconds, Xiphos downing two in an equally aggressive strategy while a few bore down on Percival...

 

[Percival Io]

"Every Nuetralizer upon activation must taste combat. So it is with you. I have brought challenging prey, my Son. Exchange Pirates. They've been ambushing Ships along this old trade route for weeks. Ruthless. Deadly. Demonstrate your own lethality."

"Acknowledged," Percival said, shutting off the autopilot and taking the controls manually.

There was a playfulness to his movements at first, as he experienced spaceflight for the first time. His starfighter dipped and arced through the void, weaving between the pirate vessels, too fast for them to track his movements. Then he circled around and began to fire upon them, blasting their ships into stardust.

Once he had a taste of blood, the kills came faster and easier. Combat programming kicked in, telling him the best places to shoot, analyzing the enemy ships to uncover vulnerabilities in their hulls and weaknesses in their tactics, allowing him to slay his prey with brutal efficiency. He didn't linger or savor his kills with sadistic pleasure, but he took a certain satisfaction in watching the blips representing pirate ships disappear from his scanners.

There was a joy in pleasing Mother and Phyre, too. He hoped they were proud of him.

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

Darth Phyre was delighted at the efficient slaughter Percival Io demonstrated.

"Son, you're amazing!" she spoke sincerely.

"You're tearing them outta the sky even faster than Maple!" Xiphos said in genuine amazement.

Together, the trio ripped and tore into the enemy squadrons, Phyre's merciless aggression eventually drawing dozens of fighters after her, her crimson Imperial TIE viciously cutting into their ranks. Eventually, it got to the point the Quasar itself was under threat, Phyre vigorously trying to destroy their point defenses with hit and run tactics.

That's when the Quasar they had been attacking unleashed the sonic mines.

"Scatter!" Xiphos ordered.

The mines went off and Phyre broke away, the destructive wave rushing for her. Her engines were gunned to the max and the wave still threatened to catch her.

"I'm hit!" Xiphos said, her fighter catching the very tip of the blast and veering wildly off course to a small, uninhabited planet of rocks and grasslands.

Phyre grimaced but had her own problems. Where was her son?

Phyre, to her shock, felt actual maternal instincts.

"Percival--?" Phyre called out over comms, her moment of actual concern for her artificial son costing her however. The distraction had caused her to slow down slightly and the wave hit.

Phyre screeched in a metallic tone as the sonic energy hit her and she lost control, shifting violently between every form and personality she had rapidly on the way down, flesh sloughing and slackening against her skeleton as she struggled to right the craft as it tumbled to the same moon.

Only a combination of Phyre and The Amalgam's exceptionally high skill at piloting allowed her to right the craft in time to make a somewhat gentle, controlled landing...

But as Phyre staggered out, the shock of the injury caused her to revert back to the form and personality of The Amalgam.

The Amalgam collapsed to her knees, flesh shuddering everywhere, coughing and hacking violently.

"Where the... how the...how the hell did I get here?" The Amalgam exclaimed, struggling to her feet.

She glanced at her ring.

"Oh! That wasn't a dream!" The Amalgam realized, not realizing half her face had turned into that of Phyre, down to the hair for a split second before reverting.

Suddenly, without warning, she spontaneously morphed into The Assembly copy within her.

"This is not good." was all the Assembly got a chance to say before uncontrollably morphing back into The Amalgam.

Not knowing when she would morph again, she immediately ran to the comms unit in her TIE, activating her comms.

"Any House Io forces, This is Amy. Anybody hear me?"

 

[Percival Io]

Percival grinned at their praises. But before he could return the favor, the tables suddenly turned. He was lucky—his starfighter was far enough out that when the mines went off, he was able to escape it with some evasive maneuvering. Mother wasn’t so lucky.

“Mother!” he cried over comms, but there was only static in return. Phyre tried to contact him, but Percival could only watch in horror as she too was struck.

Both their ships were sent hurtling toward a nearby planet. Percival gunned his starfighter forward, following their trail through space…

He was only able to track Phyre, landing safely near her crashed ship. As he raised the hatch of his starfighter and hopped out, he saw at once that something was wrong. Phyre’s body warped and changed into that of several different people. The transformation was grotesque, and it was clear she had no control over it.

“Phyre!” Percival called out to her. He kept some distance, not sure what to make of her changing appearance. “Are you injured? We need to find Mother!”

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

Upon seeing Percival Io after he arrived, The Amalgam took a moment to process his arrival, some of the memories from Phyre filtering through, though Phyre herself was currently unable to stop being The Amalgam.

"Phyre's asleep currently, can I take a message?" The Amalgam joked. "Splendid timing by the way, Percival."

The Amalgam reached into her damaged TIE and pulled out her weapons...right as she suddenly morphed into the Assembly in front of him, the transformation process more disgusting looking than normal with the way the flesh bulged and melted on her skeleton at random.

The Assembly grimaced, swooning.

"We must hurry to your mother..." she said clutching her head, uncontrollably morphing back into The Amalgam.

"...I've heard of scrambled eggs, but damn..." The Amalgam complained...

Fifteen minutes later.

The Amalgam walked along with Percival through the desolate but breathable atmosphere. Whatever her injuries were, she was shapeshifting every five minutes against her will. Brain Damage, possibly.

(Palpatine: Ironic)

The Amalgam happily directed Percival to hide behind a large outcrop of rock, she watched, smirking as a combat shuttle flew by.

"Your mother has awoken...and she is killing..." The Amalgam said pridefully as she felt Laertia gut a first response team.

"Someday, you're going to be killing by the dozens to defend the House. You really must remind me to pencil you in for knife training. You have not lived until you have skinned a grown ass Wookiee alive..."

The Amalgam observed where the shuttles were flying. There were a lot of them.

"See!?" She pointed out happily. "*That's the kind of alarm your darling mother inspires... combat shuttles!"

The Amalgam developed a wistful look on her face, as she signalled him to follow her. This time at a quicker pace. She saw a Z-95 Headhunter closing on them.

The Amalgam's flesh shuddered as she clenched her fist.

A single, massive bolt of lightning erupted from the air, flowing into the fighter and causing it to lose control and violently smash into the rocky ground.

"Remember, Percival, you can never have too much electricity in a fight...wait, hold on, scratch that, you can if the electricity gets you too...oh, hell, I sure tossed that analogy in the fethin' paper shredder..." she grumbled. "Electricity is awesome when you use it right. There. Now we can move on..." she rambled, face on one side melting slightly.

She decided to do something to help her focus.

"Percival...did I ever tell you the tale of what happened after the Nuetralizers scored their first victory?" she asked in an unexpectedly soft voice as she gestured for him to follow her in a light sprint.

An odd time to discuss it but the more she focused like this the less noticeably "melty" she was. Hopefully he would indulge her by listening. It was his past too, after all...

 

[Percival Io]

Despite the dire situation, the Amalgam seemed to be in good spirits. Percival’s psychology programming struggled to make sense of this, though as he watched her morph into yet another persona, he concluded that her joking manner was simply a way to deal with stress.

She was able to function enough to retrieve her weapons from her ship and began walking with him toward the other crash site. Within fifteen minutes, a combat shuttle flew overhead carrying reinforcements. Percival felt relief. Mother was alive and well enough to fight.

More shuttles arrived. The Amalgam still seemed unbothered by this, but Percival quickened his pace even before she did. “Let’s not let Mother have all the fun,” he said, hiding his concern for Laertia’s safety behind his desire to join in the killing.

Their first encounter was with a starfighter. The Amalgam conjured a bolt of lightning which caused the ship to lose control and crash into the rocks below. She rambled something about electricity as half her face began to melt off. Percival gave her a worried side-eye.

"Percival... did I ever tell you the tale of what happened after the Nuetralizers scored their first victory?"

“No, I don’t think you have.” Never mind that he’d been activated only a few hours ago. She clearly wasn't in her right mind, even more so than usual. But he would humor her nonetheless, if only because his empathy programming urged him to. “What happened?”

The Amalgam​

 

[The Amalgam]

WIP

 

[The Amalgam]

Meanwhile...


Countess Arianna Belasko sat across from The Battalion , Arianna clad in a shimmering blue cocktail dress and golden stilettos in her suite aboard the warship.

The Battalion was clad in her typical white catsuit. Both eyed the other with caution.

Arianna knew that the Cult still viewed her as their personal property. So she was wary of being alone with one. Despite Laertia's assurances that she had extracted a blood oath from her Lover in writing that she would never go along with any order to kill or absorb Arianna.

"You always did have taste, Arianna, I must admit..." The Battalion complimented.

"Thank you. And what may I do for the Wife of my Daughter?" Arianna replied stiffly, smile practiced and plastered.

"I am here to honor my Blood Oath to Julia, Countess. I found out Amy is plotting to infect you."

Arianna snorted. "I could have told you that. Of course she is plotting. Any idea on her approach?"

"Lyssa gave me the information. She listened in on the plotting. She is sending a fragment of herself to infect you as we speak."

Arianna clasped her hands together.

"I'm surprised you yourself did not attempt this approach." Arianna confessed.

"Laertia is my beloved." The Battalion stated flatly. "When I give an oath to her, I mean it, no matter the face I wear at the moment."

"And she's all that's left of her father." Arianna said silkenly, naming the Sarlacc in the room.

The Battalion was silent for a moment before her eyes went down to the floor.

"I know you have never approved of her marrying a Cultist. But you must believe what I am telling you, just this one time." The Battalion insisted calmly.

"Alright. Thanks for the warning. But I can take care of myself..." Arianna stated.

"Don't be foolish..." The Battalion chided. "The fragment being sent to infect you is split off from an Amy who has been merged with the Persona of Darth Phyre for years. You're strong, Arianna. But you aren't that strong."

"And 'you' are?" She asked.

The Battalion was silent a moment.

"I suspect I am, yes. You have no idea just how much Amy hesitated before resurrecting me. I was created directly from Phyre's flesh." she answered.

Arianna mulled it over.

"Your proposal?"

"You let me infect you instead."

The Battalion opened the case she had brought with her. Arianna spotted three faces of infamous Brain Demon Cultists. Chief among them The Assembly, all converted to porcelain like death masks containing their essence.

"Trading the Firaxa for the Rancor hardly seems like a smart deal." Arianna observed.

"You could have done anything to those copies. Booby-trapped them in whatever manner you saw fit. The copies could have commands hidden in their very psyche. Just touching them could enable something from beyond to possess me."

"If you were anyone else, you'd be absolutely right. But not today." The Battalion claimed. "Amy has to much influence in our burgeoning House as it is. There must be stability. Her infecting you would tip that stability."

"And you infecting me doesn't?" Arianna asked.

"These copies are blank copies. Use every art of Sorcery you know to confirm what I say." The Battalion replied. "You can partition them off from the rest of your hive mind. But it should give you the strength needed to at least resist the attempt."

"Depends on what persona she sent to infect me..." Arianna grumbled as she examined the faces...

"I need an answer because I have it on good authority that it is halfway through the electrical route leading to this suite..." The Battalion said crossly. "Once it arrives, I will no longer be able to help you."

Arianna looked up from the faces.

"You do realize that even if you are being truthful with me, I cannot fully trust you."

"I never said anything about trusting me. I said believe me." The Battalion sneered in irritation.

She leaned back.

"Strange. The old you would have committed genocide to obtain these three personas I dangle in front of you so casually..." The Battalion observed, eyeing her.

"People change." Arianna replied.

"Not 'that' much..." The Battalion replied.

She eyed her a moment.

"Is something the matter?" Arianna asked.

"I'm just thinking...what if..."

The Battalion shrugged it off.

"Will you believe me this one time?" She asked.

Arianna continued eyeing her.

"You know, when Laertia told me she wanted you, I struggled to understand why...but then I remembered." Arianna said.

"The Fake Goddess you worship preserves some of the traits that might have made them noble were it not for that monster's influence. In your case, your most valuable trait was preserved...and it is simultaneously your greatest strength and weakness."

"What trait would that be, I wonder?" The Battalion questioned.

"Your ability to commit to your oaths, whether imposed from within or without. It's a quality normally found in the most stalwart and disciplined of heroes...but twisted to ignoble ends under the Brain Demon's influence." Arianna observed. "It will be your downfall, Elaine."

The Battalion stated like a Hawk studying a Mouse.

"I remember well what your downfall was, Arianna, when you were still a Cultist. I see it has not left you, in all the time you have been with us." she said after a moment.

The Battalion leaned forward.

"Your tendency to believe you could charm others to your viewpoint, whether through your wealth, your looks, your personal power, or internal logic. It backfired on you before, and it's going to backfire on you again." The Battalion sneered, standing up.

"Enough banter. I have done my due diligence." The Battalion turned to leave.

"Does it ever bother you that if you succeed with Laertia, you will have completely destroyed the woman Morris gave his life to protect? Or is that a feature as opposed to a bug?" Arianna asked before she stepped out.

Instead of answering, The Battalion only asked, in turn: "Why are you letting me?"

No answer was given. The Battalion snorted and walked out.


Meanwhile...

"Oh, It was a sunny day...the birds were chirping, Laertia's children were looting the dead, y'know, general war crime stuff..." The deformed Amalgam chirped happily to Percival Io as they journeyed to Laertia...


Post battle of Generis...


The Nuetralizers had proven themselves, and Laertia Io could not have been more pleased with their performance.

Their Bloodthirsty, Berserker like behavior, so different from normal Battle Droids, had caught the enemy completely off guard as they had laid waste to the jungles around them, fighting alongside Brain Demon Cultists. Now was the clean up.

Laertia watched her silvery, skeleton like children pull trophies off the dead of both sides, some modifying a particular weapon they liked others outright doing air guitar be at random over corpses. She watched from a hill, and it was this hill that The Amalgam journeyed too.

"Such 'wonderful' creations..." The Amalgam praised.

Laertia glanced over. The look in her eye told Amy Laertia was not in one of her cold moods.

The Amalgam smiled with naked hunger in her dead purple gaze as she slinked towards Laertia.

"Why, oh why, did you not tell me the extent of your ambition for an army? I thought you were going to do the lazy thing and start obtaining Fett Clones somehow--" The Amalgam asked, almost offended at being left out of the loop as she stood next to her.

(Cutaway of Nathan Bloodscrawl sitting in an elegant chair by a fancy fireplace)

(Nathan Bloodscrawl: I'm a simple man. I see a giant ass Clone Army, I sing Sinatra to wake them.)

"Information Security. Nothing personal." Laertia said.

"I noticed how you call them your children. A mother to an army of skeletons. How weirdly poetic. The Amalgam observed, casually sliding her hand against Laertia's, taking it into her own, tracing Laertia's fingertips with hers.

"I've known Marauders who killed for twenty years and never enjoyed such a smashing victory in battle. You should be proud. You'll be quite the Warlord if you keep it up..." The Amalgam said, entwining her fingers with Laertia, mad gaze locking eyes with her.

Laertia barely had the presence of mind to draw her fingers away from Amy's.

"I'm not in this to be a simple Warlord, Amy. I want to 'create' something. Something meaningful."

"Oh, I understand 'completely'." The Amalgam replied. "I too wish to make a legacy of 'some' sort."

The pair stared at one another quietly. It would be one of the few moments in all that would follow afterward where they were not openly antagonistic to one another.

"In what I am putting together..." Laertia said slowly. "It will require recruits. True Believers. But I know I will inevitably acquire some who do not fight for the reasons I do. Should you encounter such among any I recruit...I...I would be willing to look the other way, if you or your Witches decide to corrupt them...only a few at a time though. Saturating my forces with your train of thought en masse is undesirable."

The Amalgam gave a squee of delight.

"You'll let me corrupt a few if I feel like it? No bullchit?!" The Amalgam asked quietly, intrigued as she drew closer.

"Considering you just helped me route The Rogue Imperials, I have to do something to show my appreciation."

"I'd have settled for sharing an ice cream." The Amalgam replied, the Phyre hiding within her trying to play it cool and pass the Speech Check.

Laertia pulled The Amalgam to her by the waist, wrapping her arm around the Wicked Witch's torso.

"Oooo, I love it when investing in the Charisma statistic actually pays off." The Amalgam chuckled.

Confusion, and anger and worry and a dozen other things played on Laertia's face in that instant, a contrast to the Amalgam's almost serene smile and a lust filled gaze.

"Kiss me." The Amalgam whispered, hand touching Laertia's cheek. "No one can see us. No one will know."

Laertia's hand reached for The Amalgam's face, hesitated, pulled away, reached again, pulling The Amalgam close to the point the Witch's lips were centimeters from Laertia, The Amalgam herself trembling everywhere at how emotionally vulnerable she felt as she anticipated the electric touch of Laertia's lips, except Laertia pulled away at the last millisecond until she finally tore herself away from Amy in a cold sweat, walking slowly, silently away from her.

"Oh, drat, that last Speech Check was at eighty and I'm only at seventy seven." The Amalgam complained. "I knew I should have level grinded a bit more before trying!"


"So you see, dear Percival, the groundwork for the Cult's acceptance by your Mother's House was not without precedent. She had laid the groundwork just giving me that teensy permission..." The Amalgam explained, before unexpectedly shifting back to Phyre's flesh and mind.

"So unsure of who she was back then. It's why she lost some battles..." Phyre noted, more distantly...