Private Reconnection: Percival Io

[The Deluge]

Wearing: Mother's Flesh (Brain Demon Catsuit'

Armed With: Parental Rights (Red Saberstaff)


Objective: Cheer Percival up.


The Deluge had taken Percival Io far from the proceedings in the chamber of Midas back to her apartment. As she was still legally recognized as Rebecca Io, there were no calls for her to vacate the apartment...but because she was a freaking Cultist, everyone steered clear of her apartment door, onlu Model 1's living there brave enough to walk by it. The Medical Nuetralizers came by daily to check on Thel. But The Deluge's love held true--the infant remained unharmed.

She had busily been feeding him and changing him for the past ten minutes.

"I understand something about your Mother that you don't..." The Deluge admitted as she finished changing Thel out. "Your Mother absolutely does love you. But she also loves Amy. And right now, those two feelings are qually intense, at war within herself. The Cult understands such things. That is part of the reason we are so useful to her--we perceive the motives of others more clearly. Especially the motives of ordinary people."

She did not tell him that the Chaplains had likely been designed in emulation of this, this ability to understand a person's ID.

"She doesn't want to hurt you. Not really. But she cannot help it at this point. Her obsessions dominate her." The Deluge explained carefully, as she began to cook. She wasn't quite sure how she remembered their favorite meal together, as she never rememebered eating it before, but she nonetheless whipped it up in about fifteen minutes.

"Also, as difficult as this may be for you to believe, Amy didn't have to persuade the Brain Demon to let me keep my memories of you. Perhaps it is sheer manipulation, but then again, she didn't have to let me keep memories of Thel either..."

As she cooked, her eyes fell on a picture of her deceased husband, Denithel. She picked it up idly, Thel sleeping snugly next to Percival.

"I remember only that he was a good man. I remember more of you than I do of him." The Deluge remarked, "She didn't even have to let me keep that much. From the Cult's perspective, corrupting someone fully to the Dark Side is an act of enlightenment and salvation. From Amy's perspective, she has perfected one who is loved by the son of the woman she loves. And thus, to corrupt me is, in her mind to ensure that those closest to Xiphos and her family are never without the blessing of the Dark Side. To ensure you are never far away from it's guidance. In her mind, as difficult as it will be for you to accept...she thought she was honoring and ensuring your guidance and protection."

The Deluge finished drying a dish, looking completely unsettling and out of place in a domestic setting with that skintight white catsuit and femme fatale gaze, seeing to domestic affairs.

She then went over to Percival, picking up Thel and gently rocking him.

"I'm not saying this to sway you from your hatred, just providing you an insight into Cult mindsets. Things that seem repulsive and unforgivable to you are acts of enlightenment and kindness to us, and thus, to impart them onto others is, in our minds, a chance for them to achieve enlightenment and salvation as we have."

He face glazed over in an expression of human peace, the Witches going still in her as she gently rocked a sleeping Thel back and forth.

"As a spiritual counselor, did you truly never consider the idea that Amy, in her own mind, actually want's what's best for you, as repulsive as she is to you?"

 

[Percival Io]

Rebe—the Deluge had taken Percival back to her apartment. He found it in much the same condition he had last seen it in, with one exception: the small altar in the living room, with its Church of the Force paraphernalia, had been removed. Only the prayer mats where he had often knelt with Rebecca remained.

From the moment they arrived, the Deluge was a whirlwind, fluttering from one domestic task to the next like a demented housewife. While she remained in constant motion, Percival sank into a chair, his hand hovering just above Thel’s cradle.

At first he couldn’t bring himself to stop by and check on the baby for fear of seeing the Deluge. So he had monitored the progress reports from the Medical Neutralizers instead, making sure the boy was healthy and well cared for. Seeing Thel again in person for the first time since Tython, he was surprised at how much the infant boy had grown even in so short a time.

The Deluge kept talking, yammering on about various subjects ranging from Xiphos to Danithel to the Cult. To Percival, she seemed to be talking too much out of nervousness. While she was able to fulfill the maternal role Rebecca had occupied, she didn’t quite fit in with the setting, with her ridiculous white catsuit and eerie gaze. She seemed very much aware of the disconnect between herself and her surroundings, sailing with ease through various household chores in a life that was no longer truly hers, but was unable to escape the pull of the current. No doubt thanks to the Battalion's spell.

"I understand something about your Mother that you don't..."

“Don’t even start,” Percival interrupted. “I’ve heard that same line from one too many people, and all of them are wrong about me. I do understand. That doesn’t mean I accept it.”

It seemed to be a commonality among Cultists that they all equated understanding with acceptance. But there was no truly accepting what had happened to Rebecca. Not for Percival.

He didn’t bother to answer any of her questions, knowing that it was bait. She was a Cultist, she was going to try and convince him they weren’t all bad. The irony seemed to be lost on the Deluge. If she would only look in the mirror…

He was beginning to regret coming here. Standing up, the smell of a familiar dish cooking caught him off guard and gave him pause. Blue milk pancakes?...

While she continued to stand before the stove, Percival slowly approached the Deluge until he was standing right behind her. No doubt she noticed him, but she was so busy going through the motions of cooking and caring for Thel, she circled around him as if he wasn’t even there. He watched like a ghost as she placed the pancakes on plates, set the table, and then went toward Thel again.

Percival stopped her by grabbing her arm.

“Let him sleep,” he said softly, his grip loosening. “You’re too restless. I came here to relax.”

For a few moments, he simply stood there, his hand still resting against her bicep. Then, in a tone that was pained, yet determined, he said, “Let me speak to Rebecca, and Rebecca alone. No lies or tricks. I want to see her in your eyes, hear her in your voice. Just for a little while. Please.”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

The Deluge regarded Percival Io . He was so lost, so uncertain. His mother had turned out to be more complex than even he had been prepared for.

She wondered if Percival could ever be horrified by the fact the Cult loved him. Loved Galahad. Loved Lance. Loved all the children of Xiphos simply because they were hers.

He requested to see her inner self, and out of her deep affection for him, she complied, nodding.

Her flesh shuddered disgustingly, and everything went full barf bag mode as she warped from her voluptuous, idealized self--

--to a frail looking, stringy-haired pale version of her self, shuddering, and shivering from the trauma of seeing sunlight, of seeing Percy, as herself, instead of her Deluge-Self.

Rebecca Io glanced around in fear and terror for a few seconds, fidgeting violently, shredded memories and fragments escaping as a cry of soul-pain from her throat. All Brain Demon Cultists went through this without being blanketed by the other minds.

"Can't wake up. Wake up. Mother Father, aunts, gone, taken burned, burned in Amy-Phyre's hatred and pain. Burned and reborn and exalted and chained" she whimpered, words coming out haphazardly.

She looked into Percival's eyes.

"Oh God..." she whispered. "Percy...Percy it hurts...it hurts. We all hurt but we like the evil. They like it, even when it hurts. They're sick..." she hissed, clutching his face, trying to remain coherent. "They're addicted..."

"All the Cultists are lashed together by torture and evil And so many of them were tricked into it. Or converted by force. The ones converted by Force suffer the most deep down. They pick Light Adepts most times. Most times."

Rebecca blinked... tears started falling and she pulled away, clutching her head. Her darting bloodshot eyes fell on an old photo of the long deceased Denithel.

"I can feel him..." she whispered, expression one of pure misery. "But I can't remember him."

(Cutaway of Robocop stabbing Clarence Boddicker in the neck)

The coughing of her son made her snap out of it. She turned to Percy.

"I...I can't stay. Not long. I feel myself sinking back into that thing even now. I'm scared. Hold me." she whispered, crying and snotting up, feeling the Witches inside of her yearning to bring her back into the fold.

 

[Percival Io]

Percival had imagined what would happen if the Deluge granted his request. He went over various possible outcomes, envisioning what Rebecca would say to him, what she would do if she could gain back control. Her anger, her fear, her loathing.

But none of his morbid fantasizing could have prepared him for this, as the Deluge persona disappeared and was replaced by a Rebecca who was so very much herself, broken and mutilated by her baptism in Phyre.

The first sound she made was a cry of anguish that pierced him to the core. Jumbled words and fragmented sentences spilled from her cracked lips, barely coherent.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, enfolding her in his arms. “I’m so sorry… I couldn’t protect you from this…”

He could no longer deny that she was suffering. This was no way to exist. If he hadn’t been so selfish, he would have recognized that it was better to let her die—to kill her, if need be. It was more merciful than letting her live like this.

There was but one justification. “Think of Thel,” he said. “Stay strong for him.”

He tried to wipe away the tears and snot, but she couldn’t stop crying, and he couldn’t blame her for it. So he gave up and kissed her through it all, cupping her wet cheek in his hand. She was unresponsive at first, perhaps too ashamed of what she had been reduced to, but soon she began to kiss him back, drawing at least some comfort from his caresses.

“I never had the chance to tell you how much I love you,” he said, tasting the salt of her tears as he pressed his lips to her face, running his fingers through her ruined hair. “I love you, Rebecca. I love you, always…”

The sleek fabric of the white catsuit she wore felt wrong beneath his hands, so he found the seam and tore it off of her, as if doing so could unbind the chains that bound her to the Cult. Scooping up her now naked form, he carried her out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. As he laid her down on the bed, she clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her rooted in reality, her anchor against the Deluge.

“She’s wanted this for so long. Let me give it to her,” he hissed beside her ear for all of the Witches clamoring for control within her to hear. His tone began defiant, but soon turned pleading. “Just this once, let me love her…”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

Percival's answer came in the form of no response, and no change to the situation. Rebecca had calmed down, staring into the eyes of Percival Io .

It hurt that they could only be together for so long. There were so many things she had wanted to say to Percival before Tython, but she just hadn't spilled it out. Didn't have the guts.

But now, there was nothing left but to throw away restraints.

Rebecca closed her eyes.

("Calendar Girl" by Neil Sedaka Plays)

(Cutaway of the Vault Girl winking as she hops into bed.)

(You and Percival are now Very Well Rested!)

Evening, hours later.

She was still Rebecca when she arose and slid out of the bed in ghost like fashion, hopping into the shower, the paranoia of not knowing when the Witches would re-assert control gnawing at her as she cleaned herself. She changed into a back up blue jumpsuit, one she used to wear when fixing machines.

"Percival?" Rebecca called out, exiting the shower area. "I...I don't know how long I have but...while I've been her...I had something set in motion for you..."

There was a beep at her message terminal. She went over to it, hitting the button. The Image of a Mercenary B1 in the black and blue colors of the House was on the screen.

"Pardon the Intrusion Lady Deluge, but I have a message from a diplomatic guest."

"Who?" Rebecca asked.

"Moya Virtu. She says she must meet with Percival Io at once."

 

[Percival Io]

It was Percival’s first time, and perhaps it was to be his last.

Though he felt Rebecca leave, he remained in bed, lying on his side. He listened to the sound of the shower running as he traced the claw marks on his back. They sealed rapidly beneath his fingertips, leaving no trace. A dark bite mark on his throat had already disappeared without even the slightest discoloration. For the first time since his activation, he found himself wishing that he didn’t have the ability to regenerate so quickly, if only because none of the reminders of her would linger on his body. Nothing ever lasted.

Eventually he got up and grabbed the clothes he had discarded on the floor. He dressed slowly, constantly glancing toward the ‘fresher, wondering if it would be the Deluge who stepped out…

The door slid open amid a cloud of steam, and she came out wearing an old blue jumpsuit. Percival, his robe on but unbuttoned, slowly approached her, waiting for a sign.

"Percival?"

She said his name, his full name. That was how he knew she was still his Rebecca. Unable to keep his hands off her any longer, he pulled her into his arms.

"I... I don't know how long I have but... while I've been here... I had something set in motion for you..."

“It’s all right,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck just below her ear. They had so little time together, and he wanted to savor every moment. “What is it?”

The urgent chime of her message terminal disrupted the moment. She left him to see what it was.

"Pardon the Intrusion Lady Deluge, but I have a message from a diplomatic guest."

"Who?" Rebecca asked.

"Moya Virtu. She says she must meet with Percival Io at once."

Percival scowled. So little time together, indeed.

Assuming a more neutral expression, he came up behind Rebecca. “This is Percival Io. Did Moya designate a meeting place, or would she be content to meet me at R—at Lady Deluge’s apartment?” He didn’t want to leave as long as Rebecca remained in control of her body.

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

"She is perfectly willing to meet you where you are..." The B1 answered.

"Have her meet us just outside this apartment complex." Rebecca said.

"As you wish..." The B1 replied. "She will arrive in one hour, under guard. As an addendum, would you please inform Percival that The Battalion delivered a package to his place of residence?"

Rebecca nodded but tilted her head in curiosity.

"What was the package?"

"She didn't say, except she described it as "Gesture of good will."

Rebecca frowned, wincing as her fragmented memories fluttered about.

"Thank you..." she said, shutting the terminal off.

Then she remembered what she had wanted to show him.

"Percival, I...I had something commissioned for you." Rebecca said, going quickly to check on Thel, heart swelling at the sight. Her eyes fell upon the Catsuit Percival had ripped off of her, immaculately white. Pulsing with hidden dark energy. She grasped it, hating that she would be wearing it again soon. Hating that there was just so much missing in her. Gaps, fogs she couldn't pierce. Pain.

She walked out of the Kitchen, carrying her son and her Catsuit and deposited Thel in his bedroom, then headed back outside, dropped the Catsuit on the Sofa.

"We have one hour. Want to see what I got you?"


Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

A visit from Moya, a package from the Battalion, and a commission from the Deluge. Truly, it’s just like Life Day morning, Percival thought sarcastically. Had the package been from the Amalgam rather than the Battalion, he would’ve assumed it was a trap—the Amalgam was exactly the sort of madwoman who would call a bomb package a “gesture of good will”. Luckily the Battalion wasn’t like that.

After cutting the connection, Rebecca wandered off. Percival followed her, though he tried not to seem like he was hovering, lingering in the doorways of the rooms she passed through.

Thel had slept soundly throughout the entire ordeal, and didn’t even wake when she moved him into the nursery. Percival watched as she picked up the white catsuit, looked at it in dismay, and then tossed it over the back of the sofa, perhaps preferring not to think about what was to come.

Slipping his hand into hers, he said, “Sure.”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

Rebecca led Percival Io with a single minded determination to an area outside the apartment complex, dipping into the nearby forest a bit.

The small hangar she had set up looked immaculate and out of place in the woods, but as she led him inside, she was certain it would be the last thing on his mind.

A starfighter awaited in the middle, of a strange design. Near the cockpit was a stylized image of The Deluge herself, happily hugging a tiger while winking at the viewer.

"We...I..call her the Highway to Hell..." Rebecca said. "Have a look."

 

[Percival Io]

Percival wasn’t sure what to expect. So when Rebecca led him to a private hangar on the city outskirts and unveiled a personal starfighter, he could honestly say that he was surprised.

Well, not totally. Starships and other personal vessels and vehicles were a popular gift for loved ones among the denizens of House Io, along with personalized suits of armor and weapons. Still, he was surprised that the Deluge had had it commissioned for him—and part of him was wary of it because of that. Perhaps the witch sought to earn his favor through gifts.

“It’s a beautiful ship,” he admitted out loud, running his hand over the sleek black hull. “And Highway to Hell is quite the name…” His fingers brushed against paint—there was some nose art depicting the Deluge holding a tiger and winking. He wasn’t sure how to react to it, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a reluctant half-smile. “Thank you.”

He climbed into the cockpit to examine it further, looking over the controls. Then, turning toward Rebecca, he held out his hand. “Would you like to come aboard?”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

Rebecca nodded.

"Thanks. It...in honesty...I had been designing this fighter from..."

Rebecca winced, trying to rememeber.

"I'd actually had it in mind from before Tython..." she confessed. "I thought you might have a need for it and...you...helped me move on...from...Denithel..."

It was so hard. Phyre had scoured so much.

She took his hand and got into the fighter with him.

She smiled...and then it happened...

Her flesh warped hidiously, until Rebecca lost her disheveled appearance, back to the horrid "Perfection" of her Brain Demon self.

The Deluge looked at him calmly with that wicked blue gaze as she sat in his lap, a hand sofly stroking his cheek.

"Percival..." she said softly, in that eerie calm voice when they were alone.

"I hope you like the gift. It may have been...her idea, but its not like the rest of me didn't put our two coins in..." she said. "It's ninety nine percent her idea..."

A Hand trailed over his chin, her blue eyes narrowed to pinpoints reflecting Percival's face.

"Dark Days are ahead, Percival..." she whispered. "Your Mother will not stop hating the Jedi for what they did...but she knows she cannot control her children's destiny forever. The Unholy Spirit whispers to us. Xiphos will offer the option for complete freedom to all Nuetralizers soon. Within a month, at most..."


Percival Io

 

[Percival Io]

Rebecca’s hand was warm in Percival’s, her smile enough to brighten a room. But then her flesh began to writhe and wriggle, and just like that, she was gone again.

Percival looked upon the pristine countenance of the Deluge in mute devastation, as if seeing her transform had caused his brain to temporarily shut down. Only when she began caressing him did he finally react, pushing her out of his lap gently but firmly.

“My body belongs to Rebecca alone,” he growled. “Only she can touch me in that way.”

Even as the Deluge, she looked so much like Rebecca. A stomach-churning mix of longing and revulsion curled in his gut when he looked at her, recalling how she had felt in his arms. He climbed out of the starfighter, both to increase the physical distance between him and her, and to avoid doing anything he might regret.

Her words pursued him across the hangar. Dark days are ahead. Complete freedom for all Neutralizers within a month. He ran a hand through his hair, disturbed by the news.

“Let me guess what your Unholy Spirit whispers about,” he said, his voice carrying and echoing through the vast space. “Defections to the enemy. Rebellion against Mother’s will. The House divided by civil war. The casualties at Tython will pale in comparison to the bloodshed that’s to come—and the Cult will revel in it. Is that it, R—Lady Deluge?”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

The Deluge smiled as Percival Io pushed her away.

"I'm not some hamburger, where you can pick out the lettuce and such." she called back playfully. "I'm a package deal, Percival. To love me is to love all of me...

"And no...The Unholy Spirit is not concerned for defections. Or rebellions. Not en masse. Those are the least of our problems. And the Unholy Spirit is using herself and House Io in the plural. 'We' do not revel in the suffering of our own allies. That would just be rude. Not to mention unprofessional.

"Your threat comes not from civil war. No. It comes in the form of four people, each with their own reason for wishing to destroy House Io..."

The Deluge floated over to him with the Dark Side, arms folded in front of her, feet pointed straight down in a pure flex before daintily setting on the ground in front of him.

"One is a former ally of this House. You know the name. The ancient Sorceress Syd Celsius. First Lover of The Matriarch. Spends her days disguised as an old woman. Her flame sorceries are terrible, and she nearly killed your mother at the battle of Kerest."

The Deluge whispered a dark spell, and the dust in the building gathered, showing an imperfect image of a younger man.

"The apprentice Starlin Rand is an especially hated enemy of your mother. He used a spell that made Xiphos witness the death of her parents at the hands of her lover, Syd, while she was still Darth Phyre, causing Xiphos severe mental trauma that she never fully recovered from. Months later, boom, you get Rhand. He's gone to ground in recent months. But he's not inactive. He's done damage in the past, and will again."

The dust form transfigured to an older looking man.

"The Man in White. Long time Nemesis of The Cult. The man who originally "killed" Phyre and forcibly converted her into Syd. He is a Force Wizard of immense personal lethality and terrible arcane power."

The last figure transferred to a gruff looking person...

"Nathan. Arnold. Bloodscrawl." The Deluge explained. "Returned from death. Slain by Phyre. His significance I am not aware of. But the Unholy Spirit knows Xiphos's journey will put her, and by extension, her house, in contact with these people. Syd and The Man in White represent the most immediate, and dangerous threats. The Unholy Spirit knows they are planning something. But your biggest problem..."

The Deluge floated up to a rafter above, sitting and patting the empty space next to her.

"Your biggest problem will be trying to stop your Mother from letting her obsession with the Order as a whole distract her from the machinations of these four...she wants most of them dead, true, but not as much as she wants the SJC to bleed for what she thinks they're guilty of. She'll be greatly distracted."

"So you see, Percival, it is never wise to assume what The Unholy Spirit will warn you of. Treachery is always a risk. There are always a traitor or two. But sometimes, you really do have to be paranoid about the sniper from afar, rather than the knife from behind. If you're worth your salt...you'll have that part covered. But it's very hard to out smart a fifty caliber armor piercing explosive round fired from fifteen hundred meters away."

 

[Percival Io]

"I'm a package deal, Percival. To love me is to love all of me..."

“We’ve been over this before,” he said coldly. “You don’t know what love is. You’re a creature Darth Phyre fashioned from the ashes of the woman I loved. Unlike you, I’m under no delusions, Deluge. I know that I had sex with a ghost. But at least it was her, or an echo of her. Not an amalgamation of monstrous personalities wearing her face.”

Though her spiel about their true enemies was dressed up with a lot of Cult-biased rhetoric, Percival found some truth to what she was saying. Xiphos’ war with the Jedi and her involvement at Tython had been incredibly unpopular decisions. If she continued to go after the SJC and the Maw, especially after giving the Neutralizers what amounted to a license to defy her, it could only spell trouble.

Yes, it was better to direct her attention toward less controversial enemies. “I already fought Starlin once,” Percival revealed. “At the request of a member of your Cult, the Chorus. It was a fool’s gambit. He pinned me to the wall with a twisted metal pipe and escaped.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you suggest we do? Try and persuade Mother to shift her efforts to these four, or take care of them ourselves?” He'd have preferred the latter, but he also knew their chances of successfully convincing her were low.

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

"Percival...what we feel for you is exactly whatever is left of Rebecca feels. We feel it for you because what she feels spreads to, infects the rest of us. If we felt nothing...we would have just confirmed the warning you expected to hear, rather than the one you needed to hear. And if all of us can love Thel because of Rebecca...then the same holds true for you..."

The Deluge floated back down. "Then again..." she added. "Phyre does not scour emotions in others she finds useful..."

The Deluge than pondered a moment at his other question,

"It may not be as difficult to convince your Mother as you think. Especially since The Battalion feels guilt over what happened to us. We got a look in her mind, while she was fiddling with ours at your behest..." The Deluge trailed before leaning into whisper to Percival Io conspiratorily.

"She loves Galahad..."

 

[Percival Io]

Taking a step toward the Deluge, Percival reached out to cup her face in his hands, caressing her tenderly.

“Know this,” he said, in a soft and intimate voice. “Whatever affection I display, whatever sweet words I say or things I do, it will always be only for Rebecca. Because what’s left of her is in there with you, and the only way I can make her feel my love is to give it to you.”

He leaned in tantalizingly close, their lips barely an inch apart. Close enough to feel each other’s breath, had either of them needed to breathe. For a moment it seemed he had given up resisting the temptation she posed, and was about to close the distance between them in a kiss.

“But I will never love the rest of you,” he whispered. “How could I love a heathen, worshiping a foul goddess she would’ve spat upon before willingly bending the knee?” His lips curled in a faint smile. “She defied the Brain Demon to the bitter end, didn’t she? I know she must have. I know my Rebecca.”

Releasing her, he clasped his hands behind his back. He felt in control again, no longer teetering on the edge of some bleak precipice. “So Phyre finds it useful to manipulate relationships,” he muttered dismissively. “What else is new. She did it to Mother, and to Force knows who else…”

The Deluge claimed it might not be so difficult to convince Xiphos to shift her focus elsewhere, then mentioned the Battalion. “I know she loves my brother,” he said. He had noticed that she and Galahad spent more time together, and her affection for him seemed to be greater than for any of her other stepchildren. He was less certain about how Galahad himself felt about the Battalion.

“Are you suggesting that I use Galahad to get to the Battalion, and then get to Mother through her?”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

"Oh, of course she did, Percival...if she hadn't...The Brain Demon would never have been interested." The Deluge said to Percival Io , not at all phased by his seeming rejection. His mother had vowed similar things, vowed never to fall for The Battalion. It had happened anyway.

"How could we love a Force Dead Android tinkered together in a high tech garage? Easy..." she purred slinking against him in that unnaturally calm tone.

"You have faith...and you're willing to kill, even if its us you want to do it to. Its the same thing Phyre and The Battalion loves in your Mother." she said. "You look down on us for murder and torture. What is the nature of a Nuetralizer but to do the same to the enemies of this House? Killing and the infliction of suffering...it was the same with the Model 1's. You forget, Percival....Rebecca was there almost from the start...she witnessed the Model 1's behavior. You are not so far removed from those magnificent skeletons. Don't you find it odd how easily the Model 1's got along with the Cultists? Why was that? Could it be that some of their innate thirst for bloodshed and violence was modeled after us?"

Perhaps it would bring up memories of things the Amalgam had said to him just before they had discovered Khemost, but there was no way to tell.

"She defied us. Right to the very end. You'd have been proud of her." The Deluge said in a very twisted attempt to give him closure on the matter.

"But now this is your new reality. Your Mother killed innocent people herself...for the mission of course. But she did it willingly...just like she ordered the MIssion to Tython willingly to thwart the Maw. Your Mother kills and tortures for her causes too, or did I hallucinate all those videos she released?" The Deluge questioned.

Then she sighed.

"Unlike so many religions, mine actually delivered. In the House's darkest hour. Set off by an ideal version of your own Mother, with your help. The Brain Demon wants the House to succeed. We love your Mother...and all her works. Just like we love you, even if you can't or won't return the sentiment."

She floated, taking a position in mid-air like she was resting in a hammock in front of Percival.

"Now as to your brother...manipulate is such a dirty word..." she professed. "I prefer the term 'make puppy eyes until he caves'...You're not manipulating him. Not really. Its more about just convincing him to convince the Battalion to get Xiphos to ease up..."

Then she grew intrigued by a question that had been on her mind.

"Do you still love your Mother?" she asked sincerely, the multitude of voices of every Witch, including Rebecca, asking at the same time.

 

[Percival Io]

Percival allowed the Deluge to rub against him like a cat, while he stood motionless with his hands resting on his hips. “You love me for my faith?” He snorted with laughter. “My faith has driven me to hate your Cult, to see them as a threat to the House. I intend to destroy your faith.” He reached up to tuck a lock of red hair behind her ear. “Someday I’ll find a way to destroy you, too.”

Though he didn’t say it, what he really meant was that he’d have to find the courage to destroy the Deluge. Selfishness kept him from freeing Rebecca’s spirit, selfishness and love and perhaps a vain hope that someday, he might be able to redeem her. Like Syd Celsius had been redeemed…

His programming fuzzed momentarily, dismissing the thought as incorrect. Syd Celsius was the enemy, not a positive role model to be emulated or upheld.

“I look down on you specifically for the torture part,” he said. “Killing is part of war. But I’ve always advocated for providing a swift, efficient death for our enemies. Not prolonging their suffering, or reveling in it.” His expression grew grim. “My programming has stopped me from doing much about the cruelties of others within the House. But I am not a Model 1. I don’t have an ‘innate thirst for bloodshed and violence’.”

That was more Lance's forte. Perhaps, once he had free will, Percival would be able to do more. But that was still a month away.

He hummed as she spoke of Galahad and the Battalion. It was a fine plan. Might even work. He’d speak to Galahad as soon as possible, right after his meeting with Moya was done…

Then the Deluge asked him a simple question with a complicated answer.

"Do you still love your Mother?"

“Yes,” he replied, his voice achingly soft. “I still love her, and I believe I always will. But I fear she is going truly mad, and is now a danger to herself and others. To say nothing of her ability to lead the House.”

He sat on a storage crate, his shoulders hunched. “I’ve heard rumors that her latest batch of Neutralizers were born with permanent defects because her brain injuries have affected her ability to think and remember how they’re supposed to work. She can no longer spend more than a short period of time outside a bacta tank, and can only walk properly while encased in one of her suits of armor. Otherwise, she hobbles around unsteadily like an infirm old woman.

“I think that she knows her days are numbered. This free will option she is offering to her children seems like proof she no longer trusts her ability to lead us. She is a woman with an incurable condition trying to preserve her legacy while she still has her wits about her.”

The Deluge​

 

[The Deluge]

The Deluge's calm face broke into a crazy, savage grin as Percival Io vowed to destroy the cult and her. So defiant. So determined. So earnest. So naive still...

"It's a great character arc, admittedly..." she said in that ultra-calm voice, at odds with the maniacal smile. "But you're a lot more like your Mother than you think."

At his other answer, she nodded in confirmation.

"She is gravely injured. All the gears are grinding. She'd had this in mind, freeing her children, months before she committed to Tython. The Battalion, in particular, pushed for it. Speaking of which...do you want to kill The Battalion?" The Deluge asked. "Because if you really are against the Cult... your going to want to remove the one person who argued the hardest for the freedom of your brothers and sisters, to get Xiphos to reduce her timetable from decades to months for your freedom..."

The Deluge continued hovering in the air, like she was resting on a hammock.

"The Battalion altered me to let you talk to Rebecca more, even when it technically violated her oaths..." The Deluge pointed out. "You kill her...take her away...what do you think will happen to Xiphos? What about all the Citizens who converted to worship her after Tython, when they saw for themselves? What will you do about otherwise loyal citizens who don't want to stop worshipping our Goddess? Kill them too? Exile? Imprison? Will you hurt your own chaplain brothers and sisters? What about the Chaplain that spoke in the chamber for our side? What of the people who don't like the Cult but know The Cult provides such a massive Force multiplier that getting rid of us at this point would cripple the House's ability to terrorize our enemies? Or the ones who just hate The Jedi that much they don't care how evil we are, just as long as we help them attack the Jedi?"

The Deluge then righted herself.

"Where will your House be, without The Cult going out and butchering a thousand threats to the House your Mother never knows of? With the enemies your Mother made?" she asked, circling him playfully. "It will not stop the House from wanting to attack The Jedi. Have you even asked yourself what you would gain for the House, if you could kill the entirety of the Cult this instant?"

She smiled sympathetically.

"It would be a disaster. We're half the reason your House lasted this long. I didn't see Themis' forces at Tython. Without us... without the Unholy Spirit, Tython would have been the Tombstone of this House..." The Deluge said. "But what am I saying, you big hunk of Android...you can do the calculations in your head. Run them."

 

[Percival Io]

Percival met the Deluge’s eyes. His carefully crafted expression was neither gloating nor patronizing, but mild and patient.

“To destroy a religion, one must naturally kill its gods,” he said. “I know the key to all this would be to kill the Brain Demon, or at the very least to imprison her in such a way that she can no longer influence the galaxy. Once she is gone, the rest would fall into place. I could pick off the Cult’s witches—they certainly must not be allowed to propagate.” His gaze turned a trifle sad as he watched her circle around him. “But the suburban cultist or the citizen who continues to casually offer prayers to a goddess who will no longer be able to hear them, I have nothing against. Nor do I give a damn what the sympathizers will think, especially Sister Alessandra.”

Eventually the Deluge did manage to get to him, albeit only when she began to insist that half the House’s success could be attributed to the Cult. Percival’s hand reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her still.

“House Io could certainly exist without you,” he began, anger lowering his voice to a growl. “Your arrogance and your sense of self-importance are liabilities to us, not assets. If you all chose to abandon us tomorrow, we would go on to become stronger than ever before. All we need to do is stop using an outdated, stupidly-named religious institution that hasn't been relevant since the Gulag Era as a crutch.”

The Deluge​