Chapter 13: The Beast

And here comes the question whether it is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both; but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved.

Niccolo Machiavelli

The Prince

…

Selena was not exactly cheating as John was still fully in possession of his free will, or at least what free will remains under the dominion of ka, but she was certainly helping his decision along. The perfume she carried, heavily laced with pheromones so powerful that they would have most men rejecting the love of all those they hold dear just for a chance to lay with her, was working its way into John's nose and corrupting his thinking. They were thoughts he was fully able to ignore before Selena gave him back his libido, but now he had not choice but to listen to them.

They were dark thoughts, ideas that disturbed him, voices that whispered how easy it would be to just allow the goddess to lead him to her bed, voices that begged him to just take her right then and there, and damn any consequences that might follow. These voices tugged at his eyes which were still fixed on the far wall, trying to force his gaze to her body, every inch of which was built for one purpose and one purpose only. His own willpower was strong enough not to give in to these primal passions, but there was another part of him that told John to just give in. His logic.

Selena had made an oath not to harm his family if he slept with her. Of all the deities that exist most were indifferent towards mankind, some malevolent, and a few sympathetic, but all of them shared one trait in common. They valued oaths. Selena was a liar, just as much as her son, but if she made a vow to him then she was bound to it. If he did not sleep with her then she would reek havoc on them, and there would only be so much he would be able to do to protect them. If he did have sex with her then they would be safe. It was the right choice, he decided. It was the only choice. Cortana would be hurt, would be devastated, but she would be safe.

Without warning Selena grabbed him, her hand reaching towards his groin, and she began to stroke him through his under suit. "Silence gives consent," she said, giving a smile of victory. Her experienced fingers worked expertly around him, bringing him just on the verge of climax without pushing him over the edge. "I didn't lie, you do only have to spend one night with me." At last John's eyes met hers and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. It was extremely rare than any man made her feel this way. Usually it was the other way around. "But that's just the thing isn't it? You'll sleep with me and then go back to her, and you will find that there is no comparison." She increased the speed of her strokes, "You will come back to me, and then you will be mine forever. I will be a better lover to you than that bitch ever could be, and I will give you a son that you will love more than that brat that she spawned."

A vice grip tightened across her wrist as John seized it with his hand, his glacier blue eyes burning with hellish flames. Selena's heart began to flutter. She had seduced enough men and women, thousands of them, to know what this meant. When it came to a tough nut like John, hatred was usually the best tactic to take. To fill his head with so much lust and so much anger that all thought takes a back seat to primal instinct. She waited for John to take her, fully willing to let him use her in any way he pleased, at least this time, and to let him think that he was in charge. What he did, however, was not what she expected.

John yanked her hand away from him and uttered a single decisive word, "No."

The Master Chief felt himself being flung backwards, the two deities repelled from one another like two magnetic south poles. He regained his footing after sliding on the marble floor several feet. He strained his eyes, just able to make out the glass like barrier that had been erected between him and the goddess. Selena placed her hand up against the barrier, a soft humming entering her ears as she did, feeling its smooth clear surface. "Well this is new," she said. Their eyes locked again, and this time she did not look at him with lust or arrogance, but with pity and curiosity, "You can sell your soul to protect the ones you care about, but not your body. You have a very interesting set of morals."

"Stay away from my family," John said in a voice that he did not recognize. It came out sounding feral, like it belonged to a rabid dog rather than a man, and despite the barrier between them Selena could not help but shudder in arousal.

"I'm afraid it is too late for that," she replied, genuinely sounding remorseful. In a way she was, for Selena had been looking forward to this moment for a long time, and now because of this Spartan's stubbornness her hand was being forced. She tapped a single nail on the barrier, "Do not worry about Cortana or Jake. When Sombra and North Central find them they will be well taken care of. Your son on the other hand…" She moved in closer towards the barrier, her hot breath creating a thin mist on it, "What are you going to do John?" She pressed her forehead against the barrier, raising a single eyebrow, "What are you going to do when the greatest enemy you have ever faced turns out to be your own son? You have felt it haven't you? The darkness inside of him, the evil that is just waiting to break loose at the right opportunity. Why else would you have sent that dream to Jake?"

"I am not going to let that happen," John said, but the similarity between what he was saying now and what he had said to Cortana as she was slowly dieing of rampancy crushed any conviction he might have been able to muster.

"Unfortunately," Selena said, one last devilish smile being revealed. "You don't have a choice.

The goddess erupted in flames, and the air around him burst into fire. He could feel the heat against his skin, could feel the same pain as any normal person would. The only exception for him was that he was not consumed by it. John crouched down, covering his eyes with his arm in an attempt to protect his vision from the searing heat, and from out of the flames he saw the vision.

…

The ruined city in the background was not the focal point of the scene, for John had seen many like it in his life. No, the focus of this vision was a man clad in a grey robe, a long white beard hanging down below his chest, deep wrinkles marking his face with advanced age, grey eyes wandering over the congregation of several dozen that had come to hear him speak. All of the people waiting dutifully for him to begin his sermon wore clothes that were little more than rags, their hair hanging from their heads in oily strands, their faces covered in dirt. They stood in the middle of a wide open plain, fresh green prairie grass waving in the wind that blew with gentle constance, their heads bowed in obedience. The man stood atop an ancient gas station signed that was halfway buried in the dark brown earth, and he held the handle to a gas pump in one hand, and in the other a violet orb, much like a crystal ball.

"Brothers and sisters," he began, spreading his arms wide. "I come in the name of EXXON, the one true god." He motioned with the gas pump at the sign he was standing on, "The Old People left his sigul scattered throughout mid-world to demonstrated that he and he alone is worthy of worship." He held up the orb in front of the congregation, and all eyes were drawn to it, "And the lord EXXON has spoken to me. Hear his voice and head his words." Then from out of the depths of the violet ball a voice came forth, sounding regal and authorities, lacking both pity and mercy.

(You have been found guilty of your crimes. In accordance with the law set forth by John Roland Toren; Dinh of the Kingdom of All-World and the one true Emperor of All Existence, your punishment is thus.)

(For the sin of murder; you shall be hanged by the neck until dead)

(For the sin of treason; you shall be nailed to the cross and crucified until dead)

(For the sin of witchcraft; you shall be burned at the stake until dead)

(For the sin of heresy; you shall be stoned with stones until dead)

(For the sin of adultery; you shall be whipped with the lash until dead)

(For the sin of incest; you shall be impaled on a stake until dead)

(Hile King John. Hile the Line of Eld)

The old prophet withdrew the crystal ball from the congregation, looking at it with the same longing as one would look at a long lost lover, seeing his own aged face reflected on its surface, "Thus spake the lord EXXON." He returned his eyes to his faithful followers, "And now I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep have been vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, and that this child has been marked, by his red heel shall you know him. A Beast is coming, and behold he shall come riding a white horse, to conquer for the sake of conquest." The prophet thrusted his hands into the air, the gas pump in the orb held high over the crowd, challenging them to accept his faith as their own. "I tell you now, repent, for the Great Journey is nigh!"

…

John found himself on his knees, and although the fire around him had been extinguished, replaced instead by the dark night that made up the vast majority of Todash space, his chest still burned. His hands clenched into fists, and above him a single bolt of lighting ran across the darkness, thunder nipping at its heels. What have I done? he thought. Everything that he had worked for, everything that the Ka-tet of the Nineteen had sacrificed for as well as the very soul of his son was now placed in jeopardy because of his own sense of honor. His own pride. This was not the first time John felt self loathing, but now he felt it more intensely than he ever had before.

John stood up, widening his stance and spreading his arms out. With a mental command his armor appeared around him, willed into existence by a single thought. The armor molded to his body, each piece placing itself in its rightful place and being layered like scales on a snake. As his armor assembled he took the time to think. There was one person that could help him, John having learned her identity as well as her relationship to him a while ago. He had not seen her because of his search for the remaining Spartans, although in the back of his subconscious he knew that was just a convenient excuse. Now, though, was not the time for indecision. He would go to her and as for help, and if necessarily would swallow his own pride and beg for assistance. As he had reminded himself earlier, most of the gods were indifferent towards the plight of mankind.

His helmet floated towards him and John grabbed it, placing it overtop of his head and creating a slow his. His assault rifle materialized a moment later and he took it, his old habit ingrained deeply within him from the early days of his training forcing him to check the magazine manually, even though he could if necessary will more ammunition into being. Slapping the magazine back home he headed out into the void once again to seek the audience of yet another goddess.