Ch. 1

The young, silver-haired professional stumbled out of the bar, his face red and his legs hardly seemed to support his own weight. It was around 1 AM, and his coworkers were long gone. He happened to be celebrating one of their birthdays tonight, but at this point he couldn't even remember which. His main focus was getting home, despite his phone being dead and no one being able to give him a ride.

'We really should have had a DD…' he thought dejectedly, looking at the area around him. His apartment wasn't far away, but summer nights were muggy and gnats swarmed the air. He also shouldn't be walking around at night in general, but his options were limited. He had no cash for a cab, and even if he did, he still couldn't call for one. The bar was closing and no one was willing to lend him a hand.

'Guess I just need to start walking.' His thoughts were somewhat coherent during his drunken stupor, but his actions were a different story. He proceeded to stagger away from the bar, but in the completely opposite direction of his apartment. Normally he had a decent sense of direction, but the multiple screwdrivers and shots of tequila threw that out the window.

He clumsily traversed the sidewalk, hardly keeping a straight line in front of him. He felt sickness coming upon him but kept going out of sheer desire to reach his bed. The few people he encountered at this hour avoided him, of which he was thankful for. After about twenty minutes of walking, he realized that his surroundings felt completely wrong. The sidewalks had become progressively dirtier, the streets more run-down. What was restaurants and bars had now become abandoned buildings, with broken windows and insects taking over abandoned stoops. He paused under a streetlight, trying to set his mind straight. He eventually figured that he had gone the wrong way and groaned at the idea of turning around and walking an extra twenty minutes to get back home. He took a five-minute break to gather his thoughts and was finally ready to turn around until he noticed movement coming from the alleyway in front of him. At first, he believed it to be an animal, but the figure was human, walking upright and straight towards him. He froze, bracing himself for the worst. He could only hope that this person wanted no trouble like those from before.

The figure fully emerged from the shadows, and he was quite different than what the pale man was expecting. The man stood at about five-foot-six, thin, and with straight, shoulder length blonde hair. He was leather-clad, and his most prominent feature was the scar plastered on the left side of his face. It was by far the most intimidating thing about him. The drunk man stood frozen in fear as the blonde spoke.

"Who the hell are you?" He demanded, his voice intimidating. He had piercing blue eyes that looked as if they could see straight through the drunk mess before him. Due to fear and drunkenness clouding his mind, he couldn't even remember his own name, and he certainly didn't feel comfortable giving it. This man wasn't having it, however. Thirty seconds had passed by and the blonde only got angrier.

"I said: Who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?!" He exclaimed, drawing a gun from the back of his pants and cocking it. The pale man had fully realized his position.

"I- my name is N-Nate. I was just trying to get home…" He answered sheepishly, the fear in his voice much more obvious than he would have wanted in this situation. The blonde shot him a confused look.

"Are you fucking drunk?" He interrogated further, lowering his gun slightly. Nate was hesitant to answer. It was obvious, but he wasn't sure if the truth would help or hurt him in this situation. It's much too easy to overpower or manipulate drunks, and he didn't need to add any more fuel to this man's fire. However, like before, the blonde wasn't taking being ignored for an answer. He shot another glare.

"Answer me, dammit!"

Nate reluctantly gave into his demands.

"Uh… yeah… I got kinda fucked with some coworkers."

The blonde scoffed and lowered his gun to his side, but still making its presence obvious.

"Well, they sound like shitty coworkers if they left a runt like you alone at this time of night." He joked, approaching Nate slowly. He backed away somewhat clumsily, knowing the scarred man took delight in intimidating him. "You're on the wrong side of town, you know." He continued, a smirk forming on his lips. There was no escape for Nate. Even if he were to run, this man could easily follow and catch him. He was still drunk enough for his coordination to be lacking. He internally cursed himself for looking like "fresh meat", with his short stature and pale features attracting the attention of many onlookers, male and female alike. He was already easy to take advantage of without the drunkenness inhibiting his movement and clouding his thinking.

Nate backed up further to feel the cold metal of the street lamp behind him. He would either be killed or kidnapped, and no one would know what happened to him. His only option was to beg, which was always a risky move, but perhaps by some miracle it could work in his favor. He sank to the ground and clasped his hands together, pleading for his life.

"Please… I don't want any trouble. Just let me go. I have nothing to offer you." He gazed back to meet the eyes of the blonde, hoping that whatever sympathy he had would be awakened. The blonde stared back at him, a somewhat puzzled look on his face. After a minute of eye contact, he broke out into laughter. Nate continued to stare in shock as his tormenter bent down and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him off of the ground. 'This is it…' Nate lamented, accepting his fate. The blonde maintained his gaze, almost as if he were staring into Nate's soul, and opened his mouth to say something until a noise startled the both of them. It sounded like a door slamming open, and the blonde quickly looked back into the alley he had emerged from.

"Mihael!" A gruff voice called, causing an annoyed sigh to erupt from the blonde. "What the fuck is holding you? Your time to keep watch is up!" The other man continued in annoyance. "Shit." Mihael remarked quietly, turning his attention to Nate, then back to the alley. "Give me a fucking second!" He responded, and swiftly walked out of view while maintaining his grip on Nate's collar. Once Mihael was sure he wouldn't be heard, he brought Nate closer to his face.

"You're lucky I happened to be the one on patrol. Anyone else and your pretty little self would be no more." Mihael admitted. Nate sighed in relief, thanking the mobster before him.

"Shut up! Don't let them hear you. You're very fucking lucky." Mihael continued, a stern look adorning his face as he spoke. Nate obeyed, fearing the possibility of anyone else getting involved.

"I won't do anything to you, but I never want to see you in this area again. For your sake, not for mine." Mihael finished, letting Nate down onto the ground below. "Now go home. No one else should fuck with you." The blonde then disappeared into the alley. Nate sat in shock, but managed to get up and walked into the direction of his apartment. He had to grapple with the reality that he was spared simply on a whim.

The blonde spied on Nate leaving, lengthening the time that was already supposed to be up for him. He couldn't stay out much longer, as the other members of his group would get even more suspicious, but he had to make sure the pale man at least made it to the better lit streets before he retreated to his hideout. Before he made his way back inside, he noticed a slip of paper on the sidewalk before him. A business card.

"Nate River. FXCollaborative. 22 W 19th St, NY, New York 10011. (212) 555-1700"

He swiftly grabbed the business card and stuffed it in his pocket. It was far too risky to have any of the other members of his group seeing it. Plus, he was curious. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the smaller man's pale hair and dark eyes. He looked back to see Nate's figure, still sauntering away in the opposite direction, but much smaller. He believed that Nate had made it to safer ground and turned back, approaching the metal door to the underground hideout.

AN:

HELLO. I am uh... not new to writing fanfiction, but it's been fucking forever. I'm back in Death Note hell because it's obviously 2008. Honestly, I wish it was. I'm working on chapters two and three as we speak. I really like where this is going so far, and I'm a sucker for these bad boy/sweetheart kind of stories. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. :3