Clay Zenith had been sipping scotch on his balcony, overlooking the city when a set of strong arms wrapped around him. Not many ever were able to get the jump on him, as he could feel the presence of people around him, but this unfortunate circumstance was unavoidable. Before the glass could even hit the floor and shatter, his mind was able to put together that this was an ambush and the perpetrator used cloaking or teleportation.

His theory was confirmed when the surroundings blurred around him, transforming into what Clay recognized as the parking garage many floors below. From this, he could tell that this wasn't a run-of-the-mill teleporter, but one who was strong enough to move through walls. And multiple of them, at that.

The two men fell hard on the ground, cement tearing up Clay's blazer as he tumbled across the floor. A groan left him as he got up, tearing off the disheveled article of clothing and tossing it aside with a disappointed growl.

"I really liked that jacket," Clay grumbled, raising his arm in the direction of the attacker. The tall blond held the teleporter in his hold from a few feet away, grinning as they squirmed. This way, he was able to get a good look at them.

As Clay examined the teleporter from top to bottom, he grinned widely. This person took most of the damage from the tumble after switching locations, blood running down from a gash that appeared just above their right brow. Contrary to being Clay's type, the muscles that bulged from their form-fitting uniform were enough to make his mind wander. But for only just a moment. This wasn't a personal vendetta, which was clear from how they advertised who they were in cahoots with.

Clay frowned when the grip he had on the teleporter suddenly vanished, along with the man themself. Glancing around, they were nowhere in sight. He clenched his fists in irritation.

"Neat trick!" Clay's bellow echoed through the empty garage. Stretching out his arms, he tried to get a feel for where they would be appearing, but there wasn't the slightest sensation that tickled his fingertips.

Just when Clay dropped his guard, thinking he had forced them to retreat, the man appeared in front of him. Moving on instinct, Clay's hand shot up and suddenly it was pitch black.

Another location.

The two men, now underground in an abandoned subway, stood on a rundown railway track. Both had a hold on the other, one through blood and another fist deep in flesh. When Clay glanced down, he saw an arm disappearing into his gut. He let out a pained cry when they vanished, leaving the hole gaping where their hand just was.

Blood oozed from the wound quickly, forcing Clay to think fast. He had never been injured to this extent, but he didn't panic. Having practiced on small cuts, he knew how to handle it. Within moments, he stopped the blood from draining out of him, holding it back with just mere force of will. He barely even had to think about it, but he needed medical assistance, and fast. He wouldn't be able to keep this up forever.

He needed to end this.

Again, the teleporter appeared. This time, only to strike a blow against Clay's cheek before fading away into the dark. It wasn't hard enough to leave a mark, but the next hit to his back made him stumble forward. Different attacks came down from different directions, each one hitting a new spot on his torso.

Clay endured the throbbing in his side as well as every additional blow, picking up the pattern the teleporter used. Everyone had a game plan, leaving nothing to chance. At least, that's what he banked on until he eventually caught on, ducking under the teleporter's arm before jerking two fingers in the air.

Something forced its way up the attacker's throat, making them gag. A gory fountain spewed from their mouth, followed by broken-up organs, making them choke on torn-up body parts while bleeding out from the inside. It was somewhat too dark to see, almost a disappointment for the smiling devil that led to the teleporting man's demise.

It was an easy fix.

After pulling his phone from his front pocket, Clay used the front lamp to get a better look. Cocking his head to the side, he looked at the insignia on the dead teleporter's chest. It was one that he was unfamiliar with, so it had to be a vigilante group that was more under the radar. He took a picture of it with the flash on before putting his phone away.

He dropped his hand and watched with a sadistic grin as the body collapsed like a ragdoll. There was blood-coated flesh dripping from its mouth, creating a small puddle on the ground. It stayed amusing for only a moment before irritation set in. The fact that someone would feel confident enough to try something like this on him.

It was inexcusable.

"Such a waste," Clay taunted the corpse with a laugh.

Raising his hand, the dead body lifted limply into the air. When someone was alive, he could feel the blood flowing, alive and full of energy. But it was different when it no longer inhabited a living person. Cold shivers crept up his arm as he felt it . . .

Death.

Clay reeled back his arm as if he were about to pitch a baseball before hurling it in front of him. The body was propelled by an invisible force, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. It took a few seconds before the sound of crumbling cement echoed back to him. There was no reason for the brutality, apart from a mild pettiness.

Just when Clay was about to leave was when a small light burned at the end of the tunnel. Standing on the platform was a young man with their back turned, looking over the carnage with a flashlight in hand. It didn't take long for them to notice him approaching, in turn, dropping the only source of light onto the ground.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy death, but Clay realized instantly that this kid was more than just a simple street rat to be disposed of. What was confirmed through the mere touching of their lips was that they were, in fact, so much more interesting.

Not only was the gash in his side fully repaired, but he had not felt this energized in a long time. In Clay's mind, this wasn't someone he just stumbled across.

To him, this was fate.

Taven followed the daunting man, blindly yet grudgingly. He knew this was his only choice, given what he knew about this person's ability. If he didn't leave with them of his own accord, they clearly had it in them to take him by force. Or kill them over and over again until he finally submitted. All options were stripped from him like a sick joke. He had come down to hide in an abandoned part of the city for this very reason.

Having the ability to heal from virtually any wound, along with being able to heal others, should have been a beautiful gift. Instead, it only made him a target for sick desires and personal gain. And now, the worst possible person had found him.

A useful little toy, they called him.

It was as if he were back to square one.

The streets were busy at this time of night, which wasn't unusual at the heart of the city. Streetlamps illuminated the pavement on the side of the road as Clay led Taven in the direction of his residency. It wasn't a long walk since the hidden subway station was just down the road. When they stopped right outside, Taven had to tilt his head all the way back to see where the tip of the skyscraper met the sky.

An uncomfortable silence had been between them the whole way, but when stepping inside the building, the sounds of city folk and honking cars completely faded. Only their footsteps echoed through the lobby while passing the front desk, where an older gentleman sat to greet them. Oddly enough, they were unphased by the disheveled appearance of the pairing, giving a curt nod in Clay's direction. It only gave way to the thought that this wasn't the first time this employee was privy to seeing something like this.

On the left side, across from the front desk, there was a set of elevators. Clay clicked the 'up' button and the sliding doors opened in front of them. With a hand placed on the small of Taven's back, Clay ushered them inside with a grin. "After you, my healer."

Taven leaned against the handrail once inside, the tall blonde finding a spot right next to him after pressing the button for the penthouse. Without so much as a second thought, Clay grabbed hold of the boy's chin, tilting it up to look them in their cold, distant eyes.

"It's a long way up," Clay said in a husky tone, their thumb brushing along Taven's lower lip. "Why don't you start by telling me your name, Healer?"

A slick substance coated Taven's mouth and he realized quickly it was the hand that had made contact with his back. It was still soaked with the dead man's blood and was now cold to the touch. A metallic scent hit Taven's senses, making his stomach churn.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me blood makes you squeamish?" A mocking tone rolled off the man's tongue effortlessly. "Shall I play with your vocal cords to make you answer?" Their face leaned in closer, but just before they could lick away the iron paint, a 'ding' signaled having reached the penthouse.

After Clay turned around and left the lift without another word, the boy wiped his mouth on his sleeve before speaking up. "It's Taven. My name."

Once across the threshold, the luxurious and modern design of the penthouse was revealed to him. The place had tall windows overlooking the city, which still could be heard easily through the sliding door leading to the balcony. It was left wide open, causing the chill of the winter air to flow freely through the living space. The place looked bigger than anywhere Taven ever lived put together, and this was only a small portion.

The man before him spread his arms open wide with a cocky smile. "Welcome your new home from here on out, Pet." Clay couldn't help the degradation that came from his mouth, for no other reason than to toy with his new plaything.

"I'm Clay Zenith. Now . . . let's get you cleaned up so we can begin."