Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (6/17)
Title: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (6/17)
Author: BradyGirl
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Bruce, Harvey Dent, Alfred
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices slavery. The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized bedslave whom he learns to cherish...but can he every truly love a slave? And will it all be moot as a weak abolitionist movement slowly gathers strength while the Galactic Empire remains in a perpetual state of Cold War? The entire series can be found here.
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): NC-17
Summary: Bruce attends a Government meeting but can't quite keep his mind on the agenda.
Date Of Completion: February 12, 2007
Date Of Posting: March 26, 2007
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC does, more's the pity.
Word Count: 2401
“The earth shook as if Nature herself was enraged.
People were swallowed up as in the Ancient Testament of the Book of Rao.
Trees split in two and rivers overran their banks,
the oceans sending tidal waves slamming into the coastal cities.”
“The Jewel Mountains splintered into a million fragments,
glittering shards raining down upon the earth.”
“Kryptonopolis broke apart as if it was a sand castle on the beach.
Buildings shuddered and convulsed,
the terrified populace running for shelter, but there was none.”
Accounts of the survivors of
Krypton’s Great Destruction
(also known as the Great Catalysm),
found on fragments of parchment
in the Caves of Ravol on Rigel IV
2226 C.E.
VI
THE GREAT DESTRUCTION
Bruce swore as he knocked his ankle against a chair in the lobby of Wayne Enterprises.
Damn the Government, anyway! Why do they have to call meetings at such ungodly hours?
Bruce scrubbed his scratchy eyes with the heel of his hand. He wished he had gotten more than a few hours’ sleep.
Of course, I could’ve skipped sex with my pretty slave, but why would I do that?
He allowed himself a leer.
He traveled up in the elevator, glad that at least the meeting was in his own building. He hated Government buildings. They were dark, dreary places that always depressed him.
His own Wayne Enterprises Building was sleek and very 23rd century, as befitted a business empire. The Wayne Foundation building was an ancient 19th century structure that befitted a philanthropic organization. He liked the dichotomy of it.
Just like so much in my life.
The elevator stopped on the 16th floor and he bypassed his office. He was already late.
Several men were already in the main conference room. “Sorry for my tardiness, gentlemen.”
“It’s all right, Bruce. Our Government man called and said he’s stuck in traffic.”
Bruce dropped his briefcase on the table in frustration. “Great!” He turned and smiled. “Hi, Harvey.”
“Hi, Bruce.” They shook hands. “Don’t worry, your secretary has us well-supplied with bagels and coffee.”
Bruce sat in his chair while everyone resumed chatting. “I think I might jettison my contracts with our dear Government!”
“Ah, Bruce, always wanting to be in control.” Harvey Dent poured his old friend a coffee. “Relax, Hargrove will be here soon.”
Bruce sipped the coffee as he tried to take Harvey’s advice. If he relaxed, he would be more alert for the meeting.
“Hargrove will probably be hitting us up for campaign contributions like a good little civil servant. ‘Tis the season.”
Bruce grimaced. “Why bother with the farce of a presidential election? Democracy is as dead as Captain America. Well, as in two hundred years ago when they killed him off, anyway. Thank god someone had the good sense to resurrect him.”
“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. Tradition!”
Bruce snorted. “Dictatorship is more like it.” He lowered his voice.
“True.” Harvey chewed on a blueberry bagel. “But no Big Businessman can survive without the Big, Bad Government.” Harvey began tapping the wood table with his fingers. “A United Earth is essential within the Empire.”
“Mmm.” Bruce sipped more coffee. Harvey was bright, a man who had earned a law degree and then an MBA just to stretch his intellectual muscles. He was now one of the most successful businessmen in Gotham.
Harvey leaned closer. “Rumor has it that the Empire is gearing up for war.”
“With whom?”
“The Collective.”
Bruce shivered. The Collective was a group of planets beyond the Outer Rim populated by dangerous, war-like aliens. The humanoid races of the Empire maintained a constant vigilance against the sadistic creatures who were so utterly alien as to be incomprehensible to the Human mind.
“They’re stepping up the Hunt, too.”
Bruce’s eyes widened. “Are there any left?”
Harvey nodded.
Bruce poured more coffee.
The Hunt.
For Kryptonians.
In the Galactic Empire of the 23rd Century, Kryptonians were considered renegades. On Krypton, slavery had been abolished centuries ago. As the Empire’s precursor, the Confederation, had begun to form, the citizens of Krypton were prominent in the new galactic order, only to find themselves fighting an uphill battle as slavery began to spread throughout the galaxy.
During this period, the Kryptonians had discovered their race’s capacity for superpowers under a yellow sun and became increasingly strident as the years passed and the slave trade became more profitable, fueling more planets to keep their slave institution or establish bondage. Kryptonians became more active in the fledging abolitionist movement, using their powers to put serious dents in the massive slave trade. As Confederation-became-Empire, a cataclysm shook the Known Worlds: Krypton exploded.
Bruce knew the conspiracy theories: that Empire and slave trader forces had schemed to destroy the planet. The official story was that an unstable planetary core had doomed Krypton, but many people believed the more sinister explanation.
In the chaos of Post-Cataclysm, the Government of the Galactic Empire solidified its precarious position by rounding up and executing any off-planet survivors of the race. It was easy to hunt down the non-super Kryptonians. As for those who lived under yellow suns, a new weapon emerged: Green Kryptonite.
In perhaps what was the supreme irony, the fragments of the shattered planet proved deadly to the survivors but only in their super-powered forms. The Government gathered up the fragments and kept them under lock and key, given only to the agents and bounty hunters obliged or contracted to hunt down Kryptonians.
Harvey’s voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “Kryptonians would shake the very foundations of our society and those of the Galactic Empire. We can’t have that, especially if we end up warring with the Collective. They would demand abolition! Slavery’s too much of a foundation for our prosperity. Besides,” Harvey concluded as he learned back in his chair, “who wants people with the powers of a Kryptonian running around, anyway, especially if they aren’t loyal to the Government.” The tapping grew more insistent. “Balance, Bruce. The Universe demands it. Black and white, slave and free, it’s all two sides of the same coin.” His eyes shone with an odd light. “Order will prevent chaos.”
Bruce allowed the hot coffee to slide down his throat. Harvey’s eyes were always a strange, light color which became even odder when he was intense. It always made him feel uneasy.
“Sorry about the delay, gentlemen.”
The Government man went to the chair at the head of the table, and everyone settled in to listen.
The meeting was filled with dry statistics, and Bruce’s mind began to wander. He thought of his pretty slave back home and smiled as he took a sip of coffee, glancing down at his notes.
He nearly choked on the coffee. His beautiful slave knelt naked at his feet in the mandated position: legs spread, manacled wrists crossed behind his back, the sunlight streaming in through the windows and setting his collar to sparkling. His dark head was bowed and Bruce reached out a hand, grasping Clark’s chin and bringing his head up.
No dark glasses, just starlit eyes. Bruce felt himself drowning in those eyes. He gently stroked his slave’s throat, Clark stretching his neck to give his Master more skin to touch. Clark closed his eyes, purring softly.
Bruce’s groin grew hot and he shifted uncomfortably. He hand slid down to Clark’s nipple, tweaking and pinching while his slave moaned. Bruce pleasured the other nipple, then indolently used his other hand to break off a piece of bagel and feed his slave, who stretched his neck to reach Bruce’s hand. He gratefully took the morsel and chewed, Bruce caressing his cheek as he watched him swallow. Clark bent his head, then raised it enough to look up through dark lashes as his eyes sparkled as prettily as his collar.
Bruce tried to concentrate once more on the meeting, but gasped as warm lips suddenly surrounded his cock, which was just as suddenly out of his pants and in his slave’s mouth. He shifted…
“Bruce.”
Bruce looked up, startled. Harvey whispered, “Snap out of it, boy. Don’t worry, no one’s noticed your daydreaming but me.” He smirked with a glint in his eye. “That whore I heard you bought must be one fine piece of ass to have you off in the Land of the Lust.”
Bruce flushed, hastily reviewing his notes, his pants stretched tight as Harvey chuckled.
& & & & & &
Back at the Manor, the object of Bruce’s lusty daydreams had just finished helping Alfred with the daily chores and was now enjoying some free time in the library. He picked up The Gettysburg Effect And The Shaping Of The American Future, opening to the page he had bookmarked:
& & & & & &
There were still abolitionist societies as the Civil War Centennial was celebrated in the early 1960s. They began to gather steam, resurrecting the old societies while reviving moribund current organizations. In tandem with the black civil rights movement of the time, the movement to abolish slavery began to cause social unrest. Whispers began that the President, John F. Kennedy, was planning to give a speech to the nation on January 1, 1964, the 101st anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation and declare his support for the abolitionist cause.*
In November of 1963, the President and his wife Jacqueline traveled to Texas on a political fence-mending trip in preparation for the 1964 campaign. Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson and his wife ‘Lady Bird’ accompanied them.
On the 22nd, JFK was murdered in Dallas.
Not long after this shattering event, the abolition societies began to lose ground again until only a few fringe societies remained.
Conspiracy theories abound to this day that the reason for the assassination was because of the abolitionist rumor, but the Government has denied this and the official explanation is that a lone disgruntled gunman, Lee Harvey Oswald, committed the murder.
Recently one of the fringe societies, the National Abolitionist Society, has begun a revival again. Headquartered in Boston, the hotbed of abolitionism in the 19th century, chapters have begun springing up across the country, allied with the Canadian Abolitionist Society.
& & & & & &
Clark set down the book. The first book he had read had detailed the Civil War, and this more recent book could update him on contemporary history, he hoped.
His gaze fell on The Guideline For Slaves. He had better start reading it. He doubted that his Master would appreciate any breaches of etiquette.
He opened to a chapter at random and began reading. The further along he read, the deeper his blush became.
“Clark.”
He jumped, nearly knocking over the lemonade on the table by his chair.
“Master Bruce called. He is on his way home.”
Clark nodded and put the book on the pier table, heading upstairs to shower and change.
& & & & & &
“What a day, Alfred! First I rush into town for a 9:00 meeting and and the big shot Gov man is late! Then we had to endure a meeting of stats, timetables, and other exciting topics.”
Alfred’s tone was amused. “Such is the life of a corporate tycoon, sir.”
“Ha!”
Clark entered the kitchen. “Good evening, Master.”
“Hello, Clark. Put this briefcase in my study, will you? I’m going to run upstairs and shower.”
Clark felt relaxed at the domestic scenario. It was amazing how quickly he had adapted to this house, and to Bruce and Alfred.
His next task was setting the diving room table, careful with the china plates. Another side effect of his illness was occasional loss of coordination.
By the time Bruce came down to dinner, Clark was standing by his chair and Alfred was carrying in the soup bowls. As soon as Bruce sat down, it was the signal for Clark to do so.
It was quiet for the first course, both men hungry and concentrating on the delicious vegetable soup. During the salad course Clark asked, “Master?”
“Yes?”
“I…I was reading The Guideline For Slaves today.”
“Good.” Bruce speared a tomato with his salad fork.
“It said…” Clark blushed slightly “…that the proper position for a bedslave at dinner is…”
At his hesitation, Bruce arched an eyebrow. “…naked and kneeling at my feet?” At Clark’s quick nod, Bruce smiled sardonically. His hand trembled slightly as he buttered a warm dinner roll. “I could do that, Clark. I could have you undress, kneel on a satin pillow, cross your wrists behind your back, and feed you whatever I deigned.” Bruce drank his wine, again with that slight tremble. “However, I am certain you are quite capable of feeding yourself. And I prefer a companion I can converse with as opposed to feeding.”
Clark felt a warmth spread through him. His eyes sparkled as a smile played around his lips.
Bruce took a bite of lettuce. “I may ask you to assume that position someday, Clark, and it may be in a room full of people.” He looked at his slave. “I expect obedience.”
For a fleeting moment, Clark felt resistance, a sharp pain slicing through his head, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Eager to please, he said, “Yes, Master.”
The meal continued in silence, then Bruce began to discuss general events, Clark happy to join in.
Later that night, as Clark lay in bed waiting for Bruce to come upstairs as the hall clock ticked toward midnight, he ran over his reactions.
Slavery was a life with little dignity and what little he had was only by the grace of his Master. He was very lucky with this Master but he would have to be careful not to overstep his bounds. Bruce Wayne came from a long line of slaveowners and expected obedience.
Clark resolved to make sure that Bruce was always proud of him.
Satisfied, he turned over and tried to some sleep before his Master would come upstairs and demand what was his right.
& & & & & &
Our Universe’s Historical Facts:
*President John F. Kennedy did not plan to give a speech abolishing slavery, of course, but he did give a televised speech on civil rights from the Oval Office for the first time in the nation’s history after particularly brutal treatment of peaceful black demonstrators in Birmingham, Alabama.
The facts of his November 1963 Texas trip with his wife are sadly true.