I know, intense right? Now we're finally getting to the Cena part. Yay Cena! Save Teddy! And we're finally to the present! No more flash-backy crap.

And just in case anyone's confused:
Sub = people that are owned by a master; people like Ted, Cody, Evan, Christian.
Subordinate = the sub-masters under Mark; people like Cena, Randy, Jericho, Edge.

Sub = Ted
Subordinate = Cena

Sorry, but my friend red this and got confused when she was looking over it. Just in case.


And this all led Ted to where he was right now.

Where he had been taken was some sort of sick pet shop, the walls lined with cages. Some had glass doors, some grid. Nearly all were filled, showing that this particular 'shop' was well-stocked. He had been told from day one that he needed to be okay, that he should sit still and look pretty for the customers.

Ted did no such thing, and on his most disobedient days, he was beat. Left to heal in a curtained cage, then brought out again. His particular display cell was just long enough for him to lay flat if he so wished, but he could only sit up comfortably. If he could stand…he entertained thoughts of breaking through the glas, but so far, no dice. A thin carpet lined his cell, the walls bright white. From it, he could see his fellow inmates. None had his particular genetics, but all were exotic. He was put in the men section, boys really. All twenty-one and under, from the few he saw.

Some dark skinned and thin, others fair with wide eyes. Multi-colored hair to dark black, one young man snowy white with blazing crimson eyes. All lovely in their own way, all up for sell. He saw some of their prices and was amazed, that someone would actually buy another human for money. Though the couldn't see his own price, he was sure it was low. He had been given a dark t-shirt that showed off his muscles and hid his torso's track marks and other scars. He had also been told explicitly to hide his forearms.

Apparently people didn't take too kindly to used up whores, but one of Castro's handlers told him that his saving grace was his lack of STD's. That made it apparent that Amir hadn't given him anything, nor had any of the men who he'd been passed around to. He was mostly relieved…mostly.

Today was a particularly taxing day on Ted, a lot of customers had trolled through and gawked at him. He was feeling horrible, he kept his knees folded to his chest and his ears pinned back. He didn't look at them, he didn't want to believe this was all really happening. His life had gotten so bad so fast….he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Everyone who had ever loved him was gone, and anyone who'd ever want to love him was a fool. He was a plague, a filthy thing that spread the disease of death where he went. Everything he touched turned to ash at his fingertips, and all he cherished was gone. After years of hiding and ally-crawling, he had ended up exposed to the world without even a pair of shoes to his name. His life was now what he'd swore it would never be, nothing.

He was property to be bought and sold, nothing more.

Ted sniffled, turning his head away from the glass so they couldn't see his tears. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing his sorrow, for he knew the store carefully watched their merchandise. Usually he was loud and blatantly rude, thrashing about, causing a scene that drove men away. But today eh felt more beaten down, more subdued. His rebellious fire had been doused with his own misery, leaving a few flickering embers to be revived another time.

Who could want something like him? He had the stupid mutation, his body was poisoned and defiled, his skin marked up with various scars. Some he didn't remember receiving, some he thought he deserved. His hand crept up his shirt sleeve to cover his left bicep, rubbing the slight crater scar there in an almost loving way. He'd gotten when Brett, only four years old, had tried to tend one of the fires in their current orphanage. Ted had tried to stop the younger boy, but the iron poker Brett had been holding was too heavy and the poor thing was uncoordinated. He could still recall the smell of his burning flesh, the sound of his brother's apologetic sobs in his ears as one of the aids wrapped his arm.

It was all he had left of Brett, besides his blood.

No one could deserve such a broken body, and the thought of being alone for the rest of his life sent him into a deeper depression. His heart was heavy in his chest, making it hard to breath. A solid, cold stone nestled in his breast. No one would ever want to buy him, what was the point? Didn't they see he wasn't worth an ugly penny? There was no profit to be made.

His face could only get him so far, and even that wasn't very impressive.

Ted let out a shaky sigh, wishing he knew how many weeks he'd been here. Three? Four? No more than six. Counting, numbers, logic, reason, realism…those things kept him sane, alive, kept his rebellion strong.

Today just wasn't his day.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, tingles passing through his skin as he felt eyes on him. Goosebumps prickled along his forearms, every nerve alive with this gaze. He slowly turned his head, peering through the glass with a great hesitancy.

A man stood there, arms crossed on the ledge and chin resting upon them. The kindest lapis eyes he'd eve seen were locked on him, a handsome face accompanied it. A baseball cap was perched on his head, a jersey over his wide shoulders. Ted couldn't stop his eyes from going down the man's form, it looked strong. Those arms-

Ted broke his fantasy rather abruptly, refusing to go there, "What?"

The man seemed undeterred by his harsh tone, just cocked his head to the side and observed him, "You shouldn't cry."

Ted roughly palmed away his tears, "Why the fuck not?"

"You're too pretty."

Ted paused. He'd heard many compliments directed at him through the glass, mostly by lusty men in business suits looking for a new slave. But for some reason, this didn't sound like a line. The smooth, very male tone washed over him. It was like a balm on his senses, but he tore himself from the daydream once more…

"Would you go away?" Ted snapped angrily, trying to be rude.

"I know, I shouldn't stare" the man actually looked a little ashamed, but when he smiled there cute dimples appeared "But I've never seen someone like you before. Any idea why you're on discount?"

An indignant flushed stained the blonde's cheeks, leaning close to the glass wall for the millionth time, "They fucking what?! I thought I was low, but not discount! How much did they mark me down?"

"About twelve thousand" the older man replied honestly.

Ted composed himself, sitting back against the wall and sulking, "Whatever. It's not like I'll see a dime of it."

//That little bitch across the room is at least fifteen.//

"I'm sorry" the man replied, leaning against the glass with his shoulder "I'm John Cena."

"Cena" the blonde knew he would never forget it, and he hated himself for it "Quit browsing."

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you marked down?"

Ted turned his head away, tucking his forearms between his thighs and his stomach, "No reason."

John's name was called by a deep voice with plenty of authority, he called back, "Yeah, I'm comin'!"

John looked back at him, smiling brightly when he caught the boy's gaze, "Try to cheer up, ok? Things can't be bad forever."

Ted watched the man leave in amazement, jaw unhinged obscenely. But he was floored! John had seemed so sweet. What he wouldn't give for a master like that…someone attractive, honest, kind. Someone to fall asleep with, someone to tell him it was all going to be ok. Someone-

"Stop it" he whispered desperately, raking a hand through his hair. He swallowed down his tears, trying to squash all that growing hope. How dare he try and build those up again? Hadn't he learned anything?!

//No one loves you, no one really cares// the reasonable side of him stated, face hidden by his knees //Not him, not anyone. They only want your body! They just want to use you! Make you their slave! Their sub…their toy!//

Broken enough for the day, Ted tuned out the world.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A week later, Ted's rebellion was back as strong as ever. He had deliberately punched one of the handlers in the jaw and tried to make an escape, but he didn't get far before he was swarmed on. He thrashed and struck whoever he could, and most of those bastards would be having nasty bruises in the morning, but that didn't matter when he didn't actually get his freedom. He tried as hard as he could, but in the end it wasn't enough.

Ted found himself taken down to his knees, one of Castro's right hand men standing before him with (he couldn't believe it) a whip in his hand. The blonde flinched away when the man brushed the leather over his cheek, but the whimper he let out revealed his fear.

"I've had enough of your fire, bitch" the man hissed, mercilessly dark eyes burning into the young man "I think it's time you learned your place."

"Gonna beat me again?" Ted taunted, the words out before he could stop himself "It won't matter! You'll have to kill me, because I will never bow to any of you. I'm not an animal!"

"We'll see how strong you are once you've been whipped like one" the man gestured towards the others "Take him to the back room."

Ted kicked and fought the whole way, screaming for someone to help him.

No one came.

~*~

The bell jingled loudly as Undertaker pushed it open, striding his large form through the doorway with a serious expression on his face. John followed after, contrasting the Head Master with the grin on his lips.

"Are you sure, boy?" Mark asked, pausing in the lobby "You've actually found a pet you believe you'd enjoy?"

"I saw him, 'Taker, and I knew he was it" John admitted "God, he was beautiful. And he looked so lost…he needs someone to save him."

Mark raised a brow at his subordinate, "And will you grow bored once you've 'fixed' him?"

"Hell no" a dominant gleam flashed through John's eyes, something Mark had never seen in the young man before "If I have it my way, I'm going to take care of that boy forever."

"That's all I needed to know" Mark continued on, nodding at the receptionist and the bodyguard beside the black door. Behind it were the males, and this burly guy wasn't going to let anyone through. But even with his size, he shuddered when the Phenom approached.

"Master Undertaker" the man murmured, opening the door for them. The two walked through, Cena all but bouncing with excitement. He couldn't wait to take the precious thing home with him, feed him, give him a warm bed. Much more than this disgusting place provided, he was sure.

Together they walked through the rows, John looking for the particular cell. He soon found it, but was shocked to find it empty.

"John?"

"He's not here" Cena whispered, then raised his voice and turned to his Head Master "He was here a week ago!"

Mark gave a pointed look toward one of the caretakers, and he no sooner opened his mouth to say something than his energetic subordinate had the man by the collar.

"Where's the boy that was in that cell!" John demanded, pointing at the empty cage that had held the precious blonde he'd seen just a week ago.

The caretaker scoffed, "You mean the cat bitch?"

John shook the man, "You've got ten seconds before I put you through a table."

The man believed him, "H-He made a huge scene about an hour ago, he's been in the back ever since."

John threw him away, whipping his head around the room until he spotted the door with Staff Only scrawled across it. He made his way toward it, the man he had grabbed started freaking out.

"You can't go back there! He's being punished!" the caretaker tried to stop him, but got shoved onto his ass by one firm shove of Mark's hand.

"Stay down."

He obeyed.

John tried to open the door, scowling when he found it locked. He leant in, putting his ear to the surface to catch the sounds from inside. It took a moment to concentrate, but eventually he heard the sharp snap of a whip, a muffled scream, then a repeat.

"Fuck this noise" John stepped back, drawing back before striking out with his foot. The door trembled beneath the weight of it, weakening it's defense, before the large man charged and broke the hinges with a solid shoulder shot. The wood splintered beneath the force, the door falling flat and smacking against the floor. John quickly took in the scene, rage bubbling in his gut.

The sweet blonde he'd seen a week ago was now stripped of his shirt, forced onto his knees and over a crate. Two men held him down, a third behind the blonde with a leather brown whip in his hands. The blonde's ears were pinned back in pain, accompanying his twisted up features. Sweat and blood slicked his back, matted his hair. Bloody lashes cut across the back of his thighs, crisscrossed over the expanse over his back. A thick leather strip was shoved into his mouth, cutting into the corner of his lips, looped around his cheeks and head to tie at the base of his neck. His hands were tied in front of him helplessly.

The third man, a burly dude, struck the whip down again. The blonde arched away from the blow, crying out against the gag, tears streaming down his flushed face.

"Enough!" John attacked before he could stop himself, knocking the bastard over with a fierce spear. Everything went on fast-forward, punching the torturer in the face several times, getting up and kicking away the other two, and it only slowed down when Mark came in and told him that he'd done enough.

Mark ripped the whip from the fallen man's hand, grabbing him by the neck and glaring down at him, "We're taking the boy."

Blood-smeared lips parted to protest, "Hand over the money and he's yours."

"No, you don't understand" Mark clenched down on the vulnerable throat, digging his fingertips into the windpipe hidden under the skin "We're taking him. Tell anyone who questions this to come see me, and I'll set them straight."

The man nodded quickly, not wanting to get hurt for a common slave.

John knelt down next to the crate, examining the crying blonde. He set him back carefully, shoving the crate away. The front of his chest was marked by the unforgiving wooden surface, leaving angry red indents in his supple flesh. John pulled out a knife, cutting the binds holding the boy's wrists together before gently slicing the leather strap. John eased the leather out of the boy's mouth, wincing at the bloody splits it had left in the corners of his mouth.

Dark cerulean eyes fluttered open, seeing him without really recognizing him. The poor thing was in shock, still half-sobbing as fresh tears stained his cheeks.

"Come here, kitten" John whispered, shedding his jacket and carefully wrapping it around the blonde. The soft leather was easy against his abused flesh, the coolness making the blonde hiss.

" 'Taker" John looked up at the Deadman "Should we take him to the hospital?"

"They're not too serious" Mark mused "If you wanted to keep this out of the public eye, I'm sure you could take care of them yourself. Clean the gashes, keep him fed and warm."

John nodded, gingerly picking the boy up into his arms bridal style. The blonde whimpered, but he was numb to the minor pain of the pressure after the beating he'd taken. John smiled when the boy wrapped his arms around him weakly, resting his weary head on his broad shoulder. He could feel the soft tail flicker against his legs, his torso, and he knew he'd come to love the surface.

John cast a lingering look on the three fallen men who were almost afraid to get up, "Let's get the hell out of here."

Mark led the way, his left hand man following close behind him with the injured boy in his arms.

~*~

Ted shifted in his sleep, sighing when there was no pain. All he'd known was pain for almost an hour, and now he felt…comfortable. He brought his hands up, moaning at the smoothness beneath them before he tucked them under the softness his head was resting on.

Minutes of blissful ignorance went by before Ted realized he didn't know where he was.

It took Ted a good half hour of grunting and shifting before he could crack his eyes open, eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings. He found himself in a dark green bed, the forest sheets soft beneath him. A thick dark blanket covered him, keeping his body warm against the a/c. He slowly rolled onto his back, staring up at a ceiling he'd never seen.

He wasn't in the pet shop anymore, this was a bedroom. A real, live, lived-in bedroom. A few clothes strewn across the floor, the scent of Gillette in the air, and across to the left of him was an open door that led to a wide bathroom. It was so big! This bed, the room, the space…

Ted slowly sat up, wondering why he was stiff but not in pain. He blinked down at his hands, finding his wrists bandaged. After a moment, he pushed down the blanket to inspect the rest of him. There was a bandage over the spot where the metal hinge from the crate had sliced into him, and medical bandages circled his thighs (padded with gauze on the back, where he knew lashes resided.) He ran his hand gingerly up his side, reaching back a little to find gauze taped over his back as well. His flesh was swollen and tender almost everywhere, thankfully his boxers were loose and didn't put much pressure on any of the wounds. He reached down and used his razor-edged nails to split them along the seam, giving room for his tail to slip through. He sighed, thankful that -even so short- his nails were like knives.

There was a knock on the closed door right before it swung open. Ted jumped, pulling the covers up over his chest in a very damsel-ish fashion. In stepped the last man he thought he'd see, John Cena. The man that had admired him that one day, the same one that had made his heart flutter and swell with hope. The man smiled warmly at him, looking relieved.

"I'm glad you're awake" John walked over, setting two small white pills and a glass of water on the bed stand "When you start feeling the pain again, take these."

Ted's eyes widened, "You drugged me?"

"It's just Vicodin, those bastards really fucked you up" John sat down, reaching up and smoothing back an unruly curl of blonde hair "Are you hungry? I could make you something."

Ted weakly batted the man's hand away, glaring at him, "You think just because you saved me, you own me now? Listen to this, Cena, I am not property. I did not fight tooth-and-nail in that God-awful place to be swept up by some knight-wanna-be who wants to make me his little bitch."

John scoffed lightly, "I'm not gonna-"

"I know what you are" Ted scooted away, baring his fangs at the man "You're one of those masters. Well you can fuck off, because you can't have me!"

John wanted to speak, but the blonde wasn't done, "And this whole 'taking care of me' thing? This sweet crap? It just makes it worse. At least the other men had the balls to admit what they wanted."

John relented, realizing this wasn't the time to push. The boy was upset, scared, still reeling from whatever life he'd been forced to live. He just gave him a smile and stood, giving him the space he needed.

"I'll come check on you later" John stated, making his way towards the door "I've got the next two weeks off, so I'll be right downstairs. You just concentrate on…healing up."

John left him there, gaping after him.

"Asshole" Ted laid back down, pulling the covers up to his chin "Being…nice. Jerk."

//Hot jerk, though.//

Ted closed his eyes against everything, enjoying the Vicodin while it lasted.