A soft padding was what woke him.
Slate grey eyes snapped open in the dark, as sentences honed by years, decades of war and strife snapped into overdrive, ears straining for any further sounds as he snapped upwards, hands reaching for the rack beside him that held his trusty MA5B, even as his body tensed, preparing for Cortana’s cool tone as she would initiate his Mark VI Mojinir armor and inform him of the situation - Only for his fingers to grasp empty air, waiting for a HUD initiation that would never arrive, because Master Chief John 117 wasn't in a cryo pod or a bunk on a Cruiser.
He wasn't anywhere close.
The cool night breeze blew through the open window of his, of their bedroom, tussling his grey locks, locks that were a far cry from his once routine military buzz, rumpling his loose t-shirt (what a pain that had been to find, a t-shirt loose on a 7 foot frame).
Yet, he remained alert as the padding neared, shuffling to a stop outside the closed bedroom door, before, with nary a sound, it slowly opened. Even in the pitch black of the shadowed doorway, John’s eyes easily made out the towering (a word he never thought he’d use to describe another person) form of his wife, standing on the threshold in a set of racy golden lingerie, that clung to her delicious curves.
Alcina blinked at the sight of her husband, before her face crumpled into a sad sigh, “John? I’m sorry, did I wake you? I just went for a glass of water.” He shook his head, his adrenaline receding as he relaxed slowly, “No… well, yes. It's not your fault, just...”
“Habit”, Alcina Dimitrescu finished for him, as she glided across the room, yellow eyes burning in the dark.
He stood to meet her, his imposing two meter bulk dwarfed by her easy nine and a half feet. She pulled him close, crouching slightly, so his head came to rest on her luscious chest, arms wrapped around him as she pressed her curves into his hard planes. He found warmth in her freezing cold embrace, a byproduct of the lack of blood running through her veins, as she revelled in the closeness.
“Yeah”, He muttered, “forty five years of war don't just… leave.”
She ran her fingers through his hair as she sighed softly, a glimmer of sadness on her face as they slowly sat down on the edge of the colossal bed. A brief glimmer of rage warped her features, her beautiful face contorting into a hateful snarl at the thought of how the UNSC, of how ONI, of how that Bitch Halsey and that whore Cortana had ruined her love’s childhood, and his entire life.
She would have torn them to shreds, she would have wiped out humanity itself for hurting her love, if not for the fact that act would have hurt him.
And she would never hurt him.
A thought slipped into her mind, a sensual smile rising to Alcina’s lips as she spoke, “John?”
“Yes, Love?”
Oh gods what that one word did to her. She would end a thousand dynasties, destroy a million worlds, she would scour the galaxy if only to hear him say it to her. To hear him say it, mean it, it stoked a fire in her undead body. A fire that could only be quenched by one thing, and one thing alone.
“You’re not sleepy, right?”
“Not anymore”, he chuckled, his rumbling chest doing things to her, things she could never have imagined before meeting her love, her John.
“Well then”, she tilted his face up to hers, eyes burning with passion and half-lidded with much, much more, her tone caressing every word, her mouth parted slightly, tongue flicking over blood red lips as she spoke, “I think my pass needs its Spartan, darling.”
Monster
John loved his wife. He loved her in spite of her bloodless, pale skin, her malevolent yellow eyes, her still heart, her wicked fangs.
He loved her because those eyes held nothing but love for him, that still heart still held him close, that pale skin reveled in his embrace as they cuddled, those sharp fangs nipped playfully at his skin as they lost themselves in the throes of passion, passion he had found with her and her alone. John loved Alcina Dimitrescu.
Yet… there were times, times like this, when he was reminded of the monster she was to so many others. She thrashed in their bed, inhumanly strong limbs straining, struggling to escape his grip as he pinned her to their bed, augmented muscles flexing under the stress.
He held her down, his body atop hers, laughably small compared to her imposing height, yet it was enough. He was enough.
Alcina’s usually composed face had warped into a bestial, hungry snarl as she struggled, pearly white fangs snapping in the predawn darkness, ragged pants and growls tearing their way out of her throat.
It hurt him to see her like this. Weakened, ravenous, a far cry from the loving woman she was most times.
Yet he loved her none the less.
“Shhhh, Love”, He said softly, his stern voice breaking through her snarls, “Shhh. Calm down. I know you’re hungry.”
A groan of hunger and irritation was his only reply.
“Shhh”, he said again, before he leaned down, tantalisingly close, yet just barely out of reach of her mouth as he tilted his head slightly, baring his neck.
Her eyes immediately locked on the expanse of skin, covering the taut muscles underneath, a long red tongue coming out to lick at her lips at the thought of the warm pulse, that tantalising lifeblood that flowed just below it.
Slowly, he eased his way further down.
Alcina latched onto his neck immediately, fangs piercing his flesh, even as her tongue lapped at the warm red fluid that spilled from the puncture wound. Slowly, her thrashing stopped, limbs slackening as she drank deeply from her love.
He released her hands, sitting up and drawing her upper body into his embrace, her arms wrapping around the firm musculature of the Spartan’s torso, as she had her fill.
Others would have called her a monster, a demon given human form.
And knowing what she had done, what she was capable of, John would have agreed with them.
Once.
Now? He couldnt care less. She wasnt the only one with uncountable deaths to her name, she wasnt the only one with blood on her hands.
She wasnt the only monster in the room.
And a monster had no right to judge.
So he didnt. John’s hand caressed Alcina’s dark curls as he held her, as he would hold her until she was done, slate grey eyes, eyes that had once been the brightest blue, the eyes that belonged to The Demon, watching the moon.
Contact
The two storey manor was nestled in a small wood, a well paved pathway stretching from the gate of the estate to the house, winding through the trees.
The house itself looked old, made in a pre-slipspace style, one that went under the moniker of ‘Victorian’.
Fred and Kelly crouched behind a copse at the edge of the large lawn surrounding the manor, two tons of armor and Spartan completely still as they scoped out the area.
No visible movement. Fred’s moth tightened to a thin line in his helmet.
That could be a good sign… or a really bad one. He clicked his team coms, “Blue Three, are you in position? Acknowledge.”
A light blinked in his HUD. Linda was ready.
“Blue Two, you take point. Any movement is to be treated with caution.”
A blink. Kelly had understood.
The female spartan stepped forward onto the lawn, silently advancing as her rifle moved back and forth, sweeping the open space.
He followed behind, crouching as they advanced. A creak.
Two rifles snapped up to the entrance, as the door of the house pushed open. In the doorway stood a woman so tall, Fred had trouble believing she was real.
Malevolent yellow eyes assessed both Spartans, her curvaceous, pale figure dressed in a fitting, albeit large, yellow sundress. Blood red lips pressing together as she stared at the pair, before warping in a hateful snarl, contorting her beautiful face as her eyes seemed to flash. Alarms blared in Fred’s head, every instinct he had screaming at him to run, to escape before thisi predator, this Monster, could approach. His legs tensed, involuntarily preparing him to flee at the slightest movement - The dread feeling vanished, gone as soon as it had arrived, as a hand slipped into the woman’s, Fred’s eyes widening as his old friend stepped into sight. John.
He looked so… different. Dressed in jeans and a shirt, clothes far removed from his once usual attire of military uniform or MJONIR armor, slate eyes assessed the Spartans, wind ruffling short brown hair as he stood on the porch, a Magnum clutched loosely in his hand.
“John?” Kelly’s voice emerged from her armor’s speakers.
“K… Kelly?” The man spoke, haltingly, voice almost hopeful, “Fred?”
He seemed to shake his head slightly, posture slipping, and for a second Fred could have sworn he saw a flash of familiar blue in that sea of grey…. The woman pressed close to him, luscious figure molding around John’s form in a practiced way, her chest resting on his head as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the ex soldier stiffened, eyes blinking, the hint of blue gone like it hand never existed.
The woman’s snarl had dropped, face twisting into a forced smile as she spoke, “So… are these the friends of yours you’ve told me so much about, darling?”
“Yes Love. Fred, Kelly, ” John nodded, before his head whipped to where Blue Three had taken up position, “Linda. Its… been a while.”
“How.. lovely”, the woman said, her smile straining all the more, and for a moment, the sense of dread creeping back up Fred’s spine, “You must come in for tea. My husband and I insist.”
Reunion
“Mother!”, Ottilla shouted as she threw open the door of her mother’s Victorian style mansion, striding across the threshold, “We’re home!”
“You’re too loud”, Alonza muttered, shooting an irritable glare at her sister as she readjusted her headphones, turning her attention back to her vid. A soft slap met the back of Ottilla’s head, the brunette turning to glare at their third sibling, as Gulielma tutted at her softly, blonde hair shaking as she spoke, chastising, “Now Ottilla. You know Alonza is right. You shouldnt be shouting after a meal. It's not good for you.”
“A meal?!”, the brunette shot back, “It was just one transport. Fifty people between the three of us! Thats barely anything!”
“Fifty. Of which you feasted on half”, Gulielma replied, shaking her head softly, “Glutton. You’ll get more after we meet with mother.”
“Okaay”, Ottilla pouted, before her brows furrowed, “Where is mother anyway?”
“Excuse me?”, a male voice, deep and stern, drew their attention to the stairwell of the mansion, where a man stood.
He was huge. Like, built huge!
Slate grey eyes, short brown hair framing a stern face, as strong jaw moving as he continued, “Do you have… some business here?”
“Oooh!”, Ottilla squealed, her burning yellow eyes raking over his muscular form, hugged by a tight pair of jeans and a shirt, squirming at the thought of the tantalising blood running under that glorious flesh, “Mother got us a meal to welcome us back!”
“I assure you”, the man interjected, his body tensing, hand drifting to the pistol holstered at his waist, “I am no meal.”
“I mean, I’ve just eaten, but I’m always up for another meal”, Ottilla continued, ignoring the man’s words, “But I prefer my food silent. And dead.”
Fangs bared, malevolent yellow eyes burning with an unholy hunger, she leapt at the human, claws stretched out.
She expected him to stare, to freeze, to quail in fear and shock. That's what all the humans did. Even the hunters, when they existed.
Vampires were terrifying, after all.
Which left her all the more surprised as he exploded into motion, a powerful grip slamming down on her wrist as the human stopped her motion. And proceeded to throw her into a wall.
Blinking, she collapsed to the floor, porcelain skin marred with cuts and chips of paint.
Gulielma’s eyes narrowed as she stalked towards the human, suddenly wary.
He tensed once more, eyes locked on her blonde form. She sprung forward, inhumanly fast as her claws reached for his throat.
An elbow buried itself in her gut.
Exhaling explosively, the vampire doubled over, gaping at his speed.
No human could move that fast.
She fell to her knees, gasping for breath. A knee met her face, her neck snapping back as it collided with her nose.
Her golden eyes locked onto the pistol aiming at her face.
Only for it to be knocked away as Alonza tackled the human. Her claws swiped across the human’s skin, the flesh rending slash slicing through the shirt, yet leaving only shallow cuts across his skin.
Ottilla watched on, trembling in rage and a little awe. No human could be that fast.
Or that strong, she amended as she watched him wrestle Alonza away from him.
Alonza was the weakest of the trio, but no human should have even been able to come close to her vampiric strength.
And this human was winning?
This… this maggot thought he could beat them? He was so below them it was laughable! He was prey! Food! And he. Would. Not. Win.
She saw her chance when he turned away from her, focused on his tussle with her quiet sister. She leapt forward, claws glinting cruelly as she made for his unprotected back.
Only to freeze to a choking halt as a hand grabbed the back of her collar, lifting her clear off the floor.
“Girls”, Alcina Dimitrescu’s voice was cold and commanding, as all three of the female vampires froze, “Step away from him.”
Faces burning, Alonza stepped back as soon as the inhuman man released her wrists, Gulielma joining her sister as they made their way to their mother’s side.
Ottilla opened her mouth, only to be cut off as Alcina spoke to the man, her voice uncharacteristically warm, “Are you okay Darling?”
Chuckling, the man got to his feet, brushing himself off as if he hadn’t just fought a trio of vampires, “Of course Love. I assume these are the girls?” The brunette’s surprise at her mother’s words was only overcome by her shock at the sight of the blush spreading across Alcina’s face (Vampires could blush? How? They didnt have the blood for it!), as she giggled like a schoolgirl.
“What the fuck is going on!”
“Language, young lady”, Alcina’s tone was icy, as her usually silent daughter quailing nder the force of her mother’s glare, before her gaze softened, “I suppose I haven't told you yet, have I?”
She set Ottilla down, before making her way to the man, towering over his two metre form, before she pressed herself into his side, hands gripping his arm as she spoke, eyes sparking, “Girls, meet your new Father!”
Paths
“Its funny, you know? I didn't remember my last name till I came here. Hell, I didn't even remember I had a last name.”
John’s tone was low, almost melancholic as he stared at the gravestone.
It was a tone Alcina had often heard, but never come to terms with. Her husband should be happy, content, loved, and it tugged at her heart to see him this way. It made her angry, it made her want to hunt down those who had hurt him, to tear their throats out for daring to harm her love. And it incensed her all the more that she could not.
“For as far as I can remember, I’ve always been John-117. A SPARTAN, a soldier. A fighter. A killer. But… before that, I was someone else. Or… I could have been. If not for...” he trailed off, eyes vacant, gazing beyond the grave in front of which he knelt.
Alcina bit back a hiss of rage, of hatred, at the thought of the UNSC, of the filth that had torn her love from his home, moulded him into what they needed, and used him as it suited them, instead opting to drop to her knees next to her husband , arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pulled him into her embrace.
“I had a family. I had friends. I had a life, possibly had dreams and desires. I could have been something other than a soldier. Other than the Master Chief, Sierra 117. Other than the Demon” John’s voice cracked uncharacteristically as he recalled the moniker the covenant had bestowed upon him, for the act of being the most dangerous butcher of their kind they had known, “He might have been the same. He might have been someone. But he never got to. Because in the end, all he was was an asset, replaced by a flash clone, a disposable cover, a throwaway life to hide ONI’s secrets.”
It was moments like this when Alcina was reminded how much she loved him. When a few of his words managed to make her long silent heart flutter, leave her longing for him. He turned to face her, as her head dipped and their lips met, an expression of love and devotion, from one monster to another.
“Do you need some more time Darling?”, She asked, as she helped him to his feet.
John shook his head, wrapping an arm around her waist, “No. That John is dead and buried. And I’d rather he stay that way.”
He paused for a moment, “That, and we left the girls unsupervised. I’m… kind of worried.”
She smiled, “Don't worry Darling. The girls won't have done anything. At least, they better not have.” John chuckled as they left the graveyard, leaving his grave, the grave of the person he had once been behind for good.
Alternate Ending
It was moments like this when Alcina was reminded how much she loved him. When a few of his words managed to make her long silent heart flutter, leave her longing for him. He turned to face her, as her head dipped and their lips met, an expression of love and devotion, from one monster to another. A loud clatter sounded from near to them, and they broke apart, heads snapping to the source of the noise.
John froze, grey eyes widening in shock. A flash of blond hair, from a fleeting memory long lost to time, the dark eyes of Ellie Bloom stared back at him, just as wide as his own, her bag and a bunch of flowers lay forgotten at her feet.
For a few moments, nothing seemed to move as they stared at each other in silent shock.
It was Ellie who broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper, “J… John?”