I have been working on this story for over a year now. This is actually the second copy. Irresistible was one of the first stories I had written and I decided that I was going to try to recreate the plot again since I felt as though my writing had improved since then. So, this is my second attempt. Please review and tell me what you think. I love hearing what you guys have to say – the good and the bad.

~ Shandy777

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

~ Chapter1 – The Beginning ~

It is funny how things just spring on us, giving us no chance of thinking, no way of strategizing before the act happens. Sometimes we are all just faced with a decision – no matter how small – and just have to respond the best way we can right there on the spot. Cody Rhodes was faced with that decision hundreds of years ago and he lived with it every single day since then. At the time he thought that he was making the right choice. After all, he was the reason the events turned out the way they did. Because of his selfishness and immaturity, he lost something – someone – dear to him. Doing what he did . . . he felt as though he was giving the life he felt he took from that person back to him. Cody felt like he made the right choice that day, but as those days turned into weeks, those weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years, Cody was slowly beginning to see that his decision wasn't the right one at all.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a familiar presence around him. Looking up from the slouched position he was in, Cody looked in the general direction of the presence. He was right about that. No sooner had he looked up, the black and red shimmering circled around the area before a figure stepped from the gas-like substance. The figure was large – a lot bigger than Cody was, that was for sure. He was incredibly tan, his body perfect to the eyes of humans and to their own species. The man's arms were graced with dark skulls and wings that circled over the taut muscles of his biceps all the way down to his wrists. He was a good looking man, though his most attractive feature were his eyes, which were a beautiful, icy, pale blue colour that seemed to pierce right through to the very core. Looking into those eyes, you could see everything. The man's emotions reflected in those eyes.

Even through the guilt that lied with Cody, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of him – Randy Orton. Standing to his feet, Cody took a few steps, intent on greeting the man, only to be stopped when a cold chill filled the atmosphere around them. And just like that, the somewhat happy feeling Cody once had was gone, being replaced with a terror that was known all around the Underworld. Slowly, the small man moved over to the wall, hoping to get lost in its great rocks, needing to disappear in the shadows. The black, ominous shimmers filled the area right beside the tattooed man named Randy, who – even though appeared dangerous – tensed and took several steps back. The black cloud grew darker and darker until a figure stepped out, looking even more perilous than the shimmers. His blue-green eyes immediately found what they were searching for and smirked coldly as he reached for Randy Orton, his hand wrapping around and gripping the man's wrist, jerking him toward him until their bodies were pressed against each other. Randy didn't seem to like it very much, but he remained quiet, his piercing stare fixed on the ground, waiting for the man to say or do something else.

"How many have you collected?" The man's eerie voice questioned, the lowness of it reverberated against the rocks, making it seem louder than it appeared.

"Not many yet . . . it's still early, though." Randy replied, finally looking up when the man questioned him. He wasn't like the usual Evils. There was defiance to him, an attitude that stuck with him even after death. Looking down, Randy's eyes came to rest of the closeness of their bodies, and the hand that still gripped – rather tightly – his wrist. Before any other thought could be made to the position he was in, the man's voice brought him from those thoughts.

"You haven't answered my question, Randal," The grip the dark man had on Randy's wrist seemed to tighten the second his sentence ended, a tightness that made the slightly smaller man wince and tug at his wrist, trying to free himself from the sudden pain that was being generated. The man wouldn't let go, though. Instead, he seemed to walk Randy backwards until he had him pressed against the wall, his free hand coming to rest on the rocks beside the confined man's head. "I asked you how many you've collected."

"Not many, as in less than five," Randy replied, jerking himself free of the larger man that was just looming over him, sealing whatever personal space he had off. When the man drifted too close, Randy immediately turned his head away and closed his eyes, his body tensing when he left those cold lips press against his warm skin, sending chills racing down his body. "Taker, stop . . ."

"Why?"

It was hard to think of a response when your mind was going into a panicked frenzy, when you're desperate for a way out; an escape that you knew was your only resort, your last chance. It was hard to think when the man named Taker had his lips pressed against Randy's neck. His heart was racing a thousand miles a minute and – when Taker started to chuckle against his neck – Randy was sure he was well aware of it, too. He shifted uncomfortably, but stopped the second Taker's equally cold hands came to rest on his body, his fingers digging into his hips.

"Stop," Randy once again said his voice tight, as if he were trying to control himself. His steel blue eyes glared through the ancient stones that lined the wall, craving space, fresh air. Even though he called the Underworld his home, it wasn't his sanctuary, and knowing that he would have to come home to this almost every single day angered him. Yes, Taker was one half Ruler of the Underworld, but it didn't give him the right to assault him almost every single time he came down there. It didn't give him the right to corner Randy and touch him, to violate his space. As much as it pissed him off, he couldn't help but shrink back and flinch when Taker's hand reached up, his cold fingers gliding gently down the side of Randy's face, his fingers trailing along his jaw line.

"Why?" Taker asked again, loving the power that he held over his favourite Evil. Oh, he had plans for Randy Orton. He just couldn't wait until the day finally came.

Taking a deep breath, Randy turned his head to where he was looking his master right in the eyes. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed Taker with his icy stare. "Because you're pissing me off, that's why."

The portentous chuckle that emitted from Taker's mouth sent visible shivers rolling down Randy's body, freezing him right to the core. He hated Taker. No matter how strong that hate was Randy still feared him. He was sarcastic and ill-tempered and he often spoke without thinking, and most of the time Taker warned him and let it go, but sometimes . . . sometimes he snapped and a different side to the man was shown. It was something that kept Randy shaking long after it happened, it was something that kept Randy looking over his shoulder, fearing to see the cold eyes of his master. Most of the time he knew he was crossing the line, but just couldn't help it; his anger just got the best of him. Not only that, but lately, Randy had been noticing a change in Taker, a side of him that – as he continued seeing it – got more and more creeped out by it. Recently, the half Ruler of the Underworld had been giving Randy more attention. He had been showing up at the most random of places, either checking up on Randy or simply watching while he did his job – collected the lost. It was unnerving at times and Randy did his best to just ignore it, hoping that he would go away and stop. That's what he got for hoping, though. Where he was at, the predicament that he was in . . . hoping would get him nowhere.

The sickening smile crept across the face of Taker as he slowly took a few steps back watching as Randy slowly began to relax, though his body was still very rigid from the close invasion. He motioned to nothing in particular, his cold eyes staring right through the man who was still pressed against the ancient rocks in the depths of the Underworld.

"Go. Do not come back until you've collected more souls," Taker commanded. Though his voice sounded calm, there was a velvety warning – come back without more souls then you'll pay the consequences.

Randy didn't need to be told twice. After giving Taker one last cold glare, the red and black gas-like substance was back, encasing Randy before dissipating completely. Randy was gone. Cody had to release the breath he had been holding for the entire altercation. It was unsettling to see Taker so close to Randy. Whenever the two were even in the same area as each other, all Cody would feel was bad vibes. Something was right, especially with the way Taker stared at Randy, as though he had bigger plans for him . . . something he knew Randy would be unwilling about . . .

"Do not look at me like that, Cody," The uncanny voice of Taker brought Cody out of his thoughts, his entire body freezing the second Taker turned around, his cold eyes landing on the smaller man. "You brought it on the boy."

It was with those six words that brought the guilt right back down on Cody's shoulders, making him feel that much unworthy, that much undeserving. He made a mistake five hundred years ago. A part of him felt like he knew it back then, too, but was just too afraid to admit it. Taker was right. He had no right to judge, especially after what he did . . . after condemning his own blood – his own brother – to a life among the Evils, a life in the Underworld . . . a life of corrupting and stealing the souls of the lost, of the less fortunate.

Because of his own selfishness, Cody Rhodes killed his brother and cursed him to an eternity of living hell.

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

The air was fresh with a breeze constantly blowing through the clouds where the man sat, his eyes closed. John Cena leaned back, the weight of his body resting on his hands as he dropped his head, enjoying the coolness, yet warmth of Paradise, a place he happily called home. The ambience around was calming and relaxing – peaceful. There was no worry, no anger or hate. At Paradise, all was well. Or that was until the War. Alas, there were still sacred places that weren't tainted with the new feelings that were slowly making its way through the clouded plains. John was at one of those places now. Sighing in content, John laid back, his head coming to rest on the softness that was the clouds.

He had done well so far that day, which was one of the many reason why John decided to come back home for a bit, to just take a few moments to collect himself before going back down to Earth to collect more souls. John chuckled softly as he reviewed his last thought. Collecting souls . . . he could just see the look of horror on the human's faces whenever he said those two words, their thoughts immediately turning to the negatives. No, John didn't hurt them. He didn't kill them and steal their souls like they automatically assumed he would. Instead, John felt them with an imprint, a reassurance of peace and of harmony. The souls called to him, whether they are bad or good. It didn't matter. John would come to those souls and, if they were bad, he would give them comfort and faith, he would encourage them to do what was right and just, to not be afraid to fail. If their will was strong enough, the feeling that would overcome John meant that he saved their soul, that he collected a part of it. That was his job – to save the helpless, to lead them to the right path. The bad souls were tricky, having already failed and were already disgraced with themselves and everything around them. When John encountered those souls, he did his best to assure them that all was not lost, that they still had a chance to change their ways. It was hard to speculate which way they would go, but John was very good at his job, and most of the time he would feel joy and happiness. That was when he just knew he had saved them.

It was when he was thinking about those souls that he felt a tingling feeling inside of him. He knew what that feeling was and quickly got to his feet, making his way through the clouds until he got to a white castle-like place. Looking around, John saw many that were like him – Good Ones – men and women who were subjected to the same cause he was fighting for. They were his brothers and sisters. He passed through a maze of pale flowers, all reflecting beautiful, pastel blues, pinks, purples, and greens, until he found Hunter and Shawn – the Rulers of Paradise. Feeling his presence, both Rulers turned and smiled as John drew closer to them.

"We are sorry to disrupt you, John. We know you were resting in the Consecrated Plains," Shawn apologized, reached out and taking Hunter's hand.

John smiled and waved the apology off. There was no need for it. "Don't worry about it, Shawn. What can I do for you?"

"We actually just wanted to check up on you, to see how you were doing."

Though his voice was pleasant and friendly, it was hard not to see the worry and apprehension in both of their eyes. John understood why, of course – the War that they had been fighting at been taking its toll on all of them. Though they had been collecting many souls, it just wasn't enough. The Evils had been collecting even more. It was easier to follow sin.

"It's . . . it's getting difficult to find pure souls," John admitted, sighing softly. As much as he wanted to tell Shawn and Hunter that all was going well, he couldn't lie to them. They already knew the truth. "I'm still looking, though. I'm not going to give up."

Shawn nodded sadly, the smile he gave just as miserable. Sensing his worry, Hunter squeezed his hand, letting his lover know that he was and would always be there for him no matter what. He then turned to John and gave him a reassuring smile before clasping his hand on John's shoulder.

"Do what you can. That is all we ask of you," Hunter pontificated, hoping that he sounded strong and sure of himself.

"I will, Hunter, Shawn," John nodded his head and gave them a smile before blue shimmers encased him. Soon, the Rulers of Paradise were alone, both sighing in unison before turning to look at one another.

"He's strong. I hope he can save us before we fall."

"He is strong, but he is not our last hope. There are many of us, no matter how wrong and tarnished this world may be. There is still a fighting chance for us. We cannot despair yet when we still have so much more to gain."

Shawn knew that his lover was right, but he couldn't help but feel discouraged at the lack of faith and pureness the world had. It was disheartening and Shawn sometimes felt that they were fighting a losing battle. There were spurts of souls that came through, ready to give up everything to help save the world, but lately, they were lucky to get one or two to fight alongside them. Feeling a strong arm around him, the smaller man looked up and met the beautiful hazel eyes of his lover and immediately felt amity.

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

As John walked around a busy market place somewhere in Mexico, he could tell right away why Shawn and Hunter were so worried, so concerned with the state of their War. He could feel the anger and hate rolling off of the bodies of the humans who were pushing their way through the crowds, cursing and yelling at each other, some even resulting to pushing and fighting. There was no peace to be found amongst the angry souls, all consumed by their greed. There were many souls that needed to be saved, but as John made his way further and further down the street, he wondered if any of them could be saved.

And just as the thought came through, darkness overtook him, a spine chilling presence making its presence known. John wasn't human, so for him, it was easy to distinguish the difference between the humans and the supernatural. Overlooking the angry people and the stands full of fruits, vegetables, and everything in between, John was able to find the source of the darkness. The Evil that materialized before them – unnoticed by the people – was someone John hadn't been expecting, which was why he had a sudden intake of breath at the sight of him. He was tall and tan, with dark skulls marred along his protracted arms, which were adorned with muscle. He was wearing dark blue jeans, which hung to his hips beautifully. The black shirt he was wearing clung to his body, revealing tight muscle and exquisite abs. If his appearance wasn't enough to draw attention then the icy blue of his eyes definitely did the job. There was something cold about those eyes that instantly stuck with John.

As if feeling John's eyes, Randy Orton looked over, almost immediately locking eyes with the Good One. He cocked his head in curiosity, but soon smirked. He knew why John was there. John was there for the same reason Randy was – only their reasons were the exact opposite. Averting his gaze, Randy looked around at all the angry, feverish people who were causing tribulations all around. There were so many souls to choose from . . . so many to corrupt.

"Don't do it."

Randy immediately looked back over, his eyes coming to rest on John's, who hadn't looked away yet. He cocked his head to the side and stared questioningly at the man. Human were injudicious when it came to their bodies. They had no idea how strong their senses were which was why it was so easy for Good Ones and Evils to corrupt them. What humans didn't know was that their senses were so robust and resilient, they could pick up anything. Being lazy and completely incompetent, they were clueless to what they could truly hold, which was one of the many reasons why Randy knew it was John who was talking to him. Even from the great distance between them, Randy heard the man perfectly. Not only that, but Evils and Good Ones could make themselves visible to the eyes of humans if they wanted to. If not then they were like ghosts, walking among them without notice. Now was one of those times. While John was there, Randy wasn't. People walked by him without seeing him, without feeling his presence.

"Don't do what, Good One? Pick a soul? Corrupt a soul?" Randy questioned, the smirk never once leaving his face. It was quite amusing to him, the Good One telling him what to do.

"I'm saving you the trouble. I'll save whoever you corrupt, Randy Orton," John answered, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, you know who I am?"

"Of course, I do. We all know who you are up there," John couldn't keep the level of disgust out of his voice. Anyone who tore through the souls like he did and entitle himself as 'The Viper', without a care in the world couldn't keep the attention off of himself. Randy Orton had been a hot topic for almost five hundred years now. Good Ones were warned of him, told to keep care around the Evil. He was dangerous.

"Well, that is no fair. I have no idea who you are."

"I am the one who will stop you if you even think about corrupting any of these souls. I think you and your kind have done enough of that lately."

"We have," Randy nodded, his voice taking a nameless tone while his gaze turned down, searching. John had honestly thought he had gotten somewhere with the Viper, but the second his eyes snapped back up, he realized that he was wrong. Slowly his appearance began to coagulate, his presence now known amongst the human who were so in their own world that they didn't even notice the Evil apparate before them in the bustling street. "But who wants Paradise when you can live in Hell on Earth?"

The disgust and revulsion of what Randy had just said was clearly penned on John's face, but the Viper didn't really seem to care. Chuckling and shaking his head, Randy turned from John and started down the active street, feeling for that one soul that would be corrupted. A lot of them were calling for him, but Randy knew that he only had enough strength for one more. He had been so concerned about not going back to the Underworld for fear of running back into Taker that Randy realized he didn't have enough energy to corrupt much more. After this next soul, Randy would have corrupted about nine, which wasn't his all-time best, but it would have to do. He would return to the Underworld and gather some more energy before coming back up and continuing his work.

He was on the hunt, John could clearly see that. As much as he had been warned and as dangerous as he knew the Viper was, John couldn't just sit back and allow a soul to be corrupted. It was with that thought in mind did John walk forward, pushing his way through the lively market street, his eyes locked on Randy. There was no way he was going to allow him out of his sight. Too much was on the line for that to happen. Ignoring the complaints and harsh words from the humans he brushed past, John picked up his pace, determined to keep the Viper from corrupted anyone there.

John was dead set on stopping Randy Orton at all costs. He was so fixed on preventing the Viper from corrupting, which was probably why he was so shocked when Randy started heading right for the very soul that had been calling out to him the most. That was when his assertiveness came into play. Growling in annoyance, John reached out – when he was close enough – and latched onto Randy's arm, jerking his attention from the soul right back to his. The reaction was almost instantaneous. Randy immediately wrenched himself free of John's grasp and turned on him, his icy blue eyes igniting in a tantalizing fire.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Randy demanded, quickly closing the distance between them.

"What the hell do you think?" John shot right back, not in the least bit intimidated. His fists were clenching and unclenching. "I'm not going to just sit back and watch as you corrupt my soul. There's no way!"

"Excuse me?" Randy cocked his head to the side, his pale eyes narrowing into slits. "What do you mean your soul? That girl is mine."

Silence overtook the two as they allowed each other's words to process. Neither of them – not in the hundreds of years the two had been alive for – had ever come across this type of conundrum. Even through all of the confusion and bewilderment, John and Randy couldn't help but still feel the anger bubbling over. It was that territorial instinct that overtook them, both ready to kill to keep the soul that is calling for them.

John was the first to speak, the first to come down from the sudden adrenaline rush. His voice was even, but laced in warning. "Regardless of who that soul belongs to . . . I cannot allow you to just corrupt her."

"Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" Randy's eyes narrowed even more. He couldn't believe this Good One actually thought he had a chance against him.

"I don't give a damn!" John snapped, taking a threatening step closer. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. The last thing any of them wanted was for a supernatural fight to ensue right there in a crowded street in Mexico. It wouldn't do well for either of them. When he opened his eyes, he was met with an icy stare. "I don't care who you are, Viper, but I won't . . . I will not . . . stand and watch you destroy a life."

"What is your name, Good One?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to know the name of the Good One who honestly thinks he's got what it takes to beat me." Randy clarified, raising his head slightly in arrogance and in defiance.

John narrowed his own eyes, those sapphire orbs glaring hard at the cocky Evil who genuinely thought he was better. That wasn't going to happen. John was going to do everything in his power to make sure that Randy Orton remembered his name.

"John Cena."

Randy pursed his lips and nodded his head while his eyes scanned over the Good One in front of him. He had to admit, John Cena was very attractive. He had short brown hair and a huge, muscular body that was much bigger than his own. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt which made his stunning sapphire eyes glisten even more. No matter how attractive the man was, though, Randy wasn't about to let his soul get taken from him.

"Well, John Cena . . . that soul belongs to whoever takes it."

"This isn't a game," John expressed, surprise taking over his features. He couldn't believe Randy was actually issuing a challenge – so to speak – over the soul. "We aren't going to just fight over it to see who takes it."

"Then I guess you're just going to stand there while I take it." It was with that did the Viper turn on his heels and make a beeline right for the pretty woman who was shopping at one of the stands.

She had beautiful long, black hair. Her dark eyes scanned over the various fruits that were presented in front of her, all the while thinking of dishes to serve for her family reunion that would be taking place in only a few short days. As much as she loved her family, Melina Perez did not want to spend her only weekend surrounded by family she barely even knew. That just wasn't her idea of a good time. To appease her mother, though, Melina had agreed to go. Sighing, Melina looked away from the innumerable amounts of fruit and rubbed her tired eyes. Who was she kidded? The only thing that was on her mind was her boyfriend, John Morrison. She was heartbroken to tell him that she wasn't able to spend time with him that weekend, especially after she promised him that she would do everything in her power to see him more. Her job was tiresome, so most of the time Melina just wanted to relax at her apartment. John had been respectable and patient with her, but even Melina could see that he was growing irascible.

Looking up from her inward quarrel, Melina was shocked to find that the man behind the stand was . . . frozen . . . his hand was reaching for a glass that was on the end of the counter, but he just wasn't moving anymore. His mouth was open partly, like he was getting ready to say something, but nothing was coming out. Perplexed, the young woman turned to the right and gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as she took in the market place around her. Everything was motionless, the people who were pushing and shoving were still, the venders behind just as still as the customers. It was as though time froze . . . yet she was still moving. Whatever happened hadn't affected her in the least. She was still moving and thinking and breathing. What was going on?

Melina turned her attention to the man across the stand from her, the vender who was reaching for the glass. She took a cautious step forward, reaching over and slowly waving her hand in front of his face, hoping that by doing that simple action, it would snap him out of whatever had happened.

"Sir . . . hello . . . are you still there?" Melina called her voice uncertain and shaky. Her fears intensified when nothing happened. The man remained still, nothing changing at all in his appearance. She would have started panicking even more, but movement was caught in her peripheral vision. Spinning around, Melina once against gasped, but this time in amazement.

The man walking towards her was the very definition of everything she had ever wanted in man, but was long since forgotten when reality set in. No one could possibly hold every single characteristic she possessed. It was just unattainable. But this man . . . this god . . . Melina couldn't look away from the paleness of his eyes, the sway of his body as he strolled closer and closer to her. She could feel her heart racing with each step he took, her body shaking with the sudden need to wrap her arms around him. Melina couldn't think as he took his last steps towards her, the slow notorious smirk sliding across his face, his eyes flashing with malice.

Before Melina could even think to say something, the man reached forward and gently wrapped his slender fingers around her small arm, pulling her over towards him. She opened her mouth to speak, but gasped when his soft, warm lips pressed against hers, immediately sending her into ecstasy. Getting into the kiss, Melina moaned into the man's warm mouth, her eyes rolling shut as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him that much closer to her, desperate to get more of the man as possible. It was over sooner than she expected, though. The man smirked into the kiss as he pulled away, loving the deplorable whimper that evaded from her swollen lips.

"What do you want?" Randy asked, his voice low as he lowered his head again, lifting Melina's chin up some so he could get better access to her neck. His lips barely kissed her skin, which made her whimper with anticipation.

"You . . . God, I want you!"

"No!"

At the same time, Melina and Randy both turned and looked at the source of the voice. Unbeknownst to them, John had moved closer to him. He had a look of shock on his face as he closed the distance between them. He put a hand on Melina's shoulder and gently pushed her back, putting even more detachment between Randy and the young woman who had no idea what she was falling into.

"What the hell are you doing, Randy?" John demanded, putting himself between the two.

"What does it look like?"

"Are you kidding me! You are flirting to get her soul?" John scoffed, unable to actually put into words what he was seeing. It was indescribable and John couldn't believe Melina was actually eating it all up. Knowing that he had to get into action, John turned his attention to the confused woman. "Melina, don't listen to this man. He's not a good person."

"What are you talking about? He loves me . . ." Melina said slowly, looking more confused than ever. She kept glancing from the Evil back to John, though her eyes came to rest of the Viper. ". . . Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you, Melly."

"Stop lying to her!" John put his hands on Melina's shoulders, bringing her attention back to him. "I know you are confused right now, but the way you are going, the path you are taking with your boyfriend, it's only going to end in destruction."

That seemed to get her thoughts from the gutter. Her eyes seemed to come out of their haze as she processed John's words. "What are you talking about? What's going on, how do you know me and my boyfriend?"

"I'm here to help you, Melina. Your family is the most important thing going for you right now. What you have with John Morrison is nice, but he doesn't love you, not like you think he does. You'll soon discover this, but you won't leave him," John explained his voice gentle and kind. He let go of her shoulders and took her hands instead. He could feel Randy staring, but he did nothing to stop John. "Don't let him lead you astray. You have so much going for you. Family is a vital part of your life. You never know when you'll lose it all."

Melina slowly nodded her head. Though her thoughts were still a jumble of confusion, a part of her realized the truth in his words. When she looked into John's eyes, she could see the sincerity in his words, the care in his actions, but when she looked over at Randy, though . . . it was as though she was at war with herself and her emotions. Looking at the man, her eyes seemed to glaze over, her sudden need to have him almost too much for the young woman to control on her own. She wanted him and it killed her knowing she couldn't.

"Melina," John's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. When she turned to look at him, she relaxed some. "Do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes . . ." Melina whispered, nodding her head once more.

"What do you want?" John and Melina both turned and looked at Randy, who had yet to move from where he stood. His eyes were locked on Melina, doing his best to get into her head, to figure out what she truly wanted in life . . . so he could crush it. He cocked his head to the side and gave her a seductive smile, one she immediately took in. "Who are they to tell you what to do, to control you? Melina, you are a grown woman. Don't let them walk over you like you are nothing. Take a stand for yourself. Do you want to crawl back to them? Do you want to leave what you have here to appease them?"

"No . . ."

Randy took a step closer, his gaze softening some, which surprised John immensely. He didn't think someone like Randy could possess a gentle quality. His eyes racked over Melina's body obviously, loving the look of lust that traversed over her face. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"You . . . I want you . . ." Melina whined, releasing John's hands and stepped away from him, moving closer to Randy, who allowed her to grab him, to smother herself against him.

Deep down John knew that he was defeated. The look in the young woman's eyes, the way she melted into the Evil, her innocent mind too immature to make the right decisions. He knew he lost when Randy closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as though enjoying something pleasurable. John knew that he was welcoming in her energy.

Slowly, as though in a movie, the area shifted. The still citizens of the market in Mexico came to life again, going on as though nothing happened. Melina was right there with them. After each save/corruption, the soul's mind was wiped clean of the events that had just transpired. Melina had no idea what had just happened to her, she had no idea that her soul was now doomed.

John and Randy were invisible to them all now, both watching the chaos that was happening around them. Finally, unable to take it any longer, John turned to the Viper. He didn't look angry, only curious and eager to know what had just happened. Randy seemed to gather this before John said anything, which was why he spoke first.

"I am Desire. I can become anything they want me to be and more. I'm their hopes and their dreams. I become known and they immediately latch onto me, giving themselves up for just a second of that joy and revelation that comes with it."