Fic: Rainbow's Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (2/17)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Sanctuary Arc) (2/17)
Author: BradyGirl
Pairings/Characters: Clark/Bruce, Lex Luthor, Ollie Queen
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery.
The wealthy freeman Bruce Wayne acquires a highly-prized bedslave whom he learns to cherish...but can he ever 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 at http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/20472.html
Categories: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Bruce never really intended to make a purchase at the auction.
Date Of Completion: February 1, 2007
Date Of Posting: March 16, 2007
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, DC does, more's the pity.
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
When the Starchild
Fell to Earth,
My heart
Glittered.
My eyes
Would never
Again
See another.
Marion Zimmer Grayson
“Tales of the Starchild”
2106 C.E.
II
THE AUCTION
Bracken escorted Bruce to the remaining seat in the outer room, snapping his fingers. A manacled servant brought wine and fruit.
Bruce smiled and nodded at the four other prospective buyers: Tay Devlin of Coast City, Brady O’Reilly of Boston, and two he knew
well indeed: Oliver Queen of Star City and Lex Luthor of Metropolis. All were billionaires and all were accustomed to private
showings of specialty goods.
Lex raised his glass. “So, Bruce, have you altered your pattern?”
Bruce sipped his wine. Excellent vintage. “What pattern is that, Lex?”
“Buying slaves.” Lex’s light-blue eyes were watchful. Nothing much escaped him.
“My family has owned slaves for generations.”
“True.” Lex picked up a pear from the bowl on his table, taking a bite. “But you leave the slave-buying to others.”
Bruce shook out a linen napkin and placed it on his knee. “I received an invitation, so I came.” He selected a dark-red apple. “It
could be interesting.”
Ollie laughed. “You’re right about that, Bruce. Silas Bracken always puts on a good show.” He winked at Bruce, who smiled back.
Old school ties and similar economic backgrounds had thrown them together, but Bruce considered Ollie and Lex friends. Both were
competitive businessmen, each a shark in his own way, as they considered Bruce. He delighted in his competition with them in
various business and cultural arenas.
The lights were dimmed and all five men directed their attention to the stage. Silas Bracken mounted the steps, clasping his pudgy
hands in front of him. He beamed with false good cheer as he said, “Welcome, gentlemen, to this private showing of, shall we say,
exotic delights?” Leers appeared on several faces. “The merchandise is rare and skillful, I assure you. Without further ado, behold
the Angel Of Your Dreams!”
The lights dimmed and the dark-blue curtains at the back of the stage parted, the handler emerging with a glittering length of chain
in his hand. He tugged on it, and the man held captive at the end of it emerged into the soft light, his braceleted wrists chained
together in front of his waist.
Bruce felt a shock course through him with the weight of a sledgehammer, a tingle running along his nerve endings. His fingers
tightened on the arm of the chair.
No, not an Angel. A Starchild.
He gazed upon a creature from the stars. He didn’t care that the kid was from Kansas or any other pedestrian Earth location.
Perfect skin glowed from the soft pearl lighting, broad shoulders and chest tapering to a slim waist, a bright blue cloth barely
covering jewels of great price. Strong legs tottered slightly as the handler tugged on the chain. The bracelets and collar sparkled
with rainbow prisms, an odd metal Bruce had never seen before.
The face.
Midnight-blue hair framed the face, a single curl tumbling over the forehead. The face was exquisite, from the strong cheekbones
and inviting mouth to the eyes.
The eyes.
Bruce understood now what people meant when they said they were drowning in someone’s eyes. The color matched the autumn
sky, framed by long, sooty lashes.
Bruce felt a desire that surged through him with the force of a tidal wave, intertwined with…protectiveness?
No matter. He had to have this ethereal creature.
“10,000,” Ray Devlin opened.
“15,000,” Brady O’Reilly countered.
“20,000,” Tay said.
Bruce studied the face, concentrating on the eyes. Glazed. Probably the quinium, though some slavers like to drug their
merchandise before auction. He carefully catalogued what he could see: confusion, sorrow…fear?
“In his case, a slaver offered him to me who also said he had no memory due to a head injury.”
Little wonder that the slave was fearful. Everything he had known was gone.
“Perfection, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer who held the glittering chain. “Look at his chest! Smooth, broad and strong, perfect
for caressing.” The well-manicured hand lightly moved over the creamy skin, then rested on a broad shoulder. As the auctioneer’s
hand moved, Bruce frowned.
“50,000.”
Lex was bidding now. Bruce saw the lust and interest in his pale eyes.
“Strong thighs worthy of a Prize!” The hand rubbed languorously over sinew and bone, then rested on the flat stomach. Bruce
thought that he could detect a slight trembling by the slave, but it could be a trick of the light.
“60,000,” Bruce said. Bracken smirked from his place beside the semicircle of chairs.
Lex looked at Bruce, amused surprise on his face. “70,000.”
“75,000.”
“80,000.”
“100,000!”
All eyes were on Bruce now. He mentally kicked himself for tipping his hand, but he was afraid to lose the beauty to Lex. He had
to win. He had to!
Lex’s eyes glittered in amusement. “200,000.”
“Excellent, gentlemen. And, perhaps to give you a preview of what you can expect…”
The auctioneer grabbed the cloth and yanked it off.
“And not only that, but a virgin, gentlemen,” said Bracken.
Bruce’s heart pounded, his eyes slipping up from the well-endowed manhood to the captive’s face.
Shame bloomed on the perfect face. The slave bent his head, his face becoming shadowed.
Anger flared in Bruce. “250,000.”
Lex’s smile was predatory. “300,000.”
Suddenly Ollie spoke up. “325,000.” Bruce glared at him but Ollie winked. Bruce kept his glare, understanding Ollie’s offer of help
but not acknowledging it. Lex was too perceptive.
“350,000.” Lex coolly took another bite of his pear.
Bruce resisted the urge to grit his teeth. Would Lex drive the price up to a ridiculous amount?
It doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes, that Starchild is mine.
The name from the old tales fit.
Bruce let the arrogance of Old Money wash over him. He was a Wayne, the heir to untold billions. He was in the company of his
peers, but his Social Register lineage traced back to the Mayflower. His family had been the most prominent family in Gotham for
generations.
He was Bruce Wayne.
“400,000,” said Ollie.
“450,000,” Lex countered.
Bruce always got what he wanted.
“1,000,000.”
Even Ollie and Lex were stunned. A million dollars?!
The auctioneer was speechless. He had been in the process of turning his charge around and now his hand cupped a shapely
buttock, lingering perhaps a fraction too long to be entirely professional.
Lex’s lips curved into a sardonic smile. He raised his glass. “Congratulations, Bruce. You’ve bought yourself a magnificent piece
of ass.”
Triumph rushed through Bruce. “Auctioneer, cover my slave.” And get your hand off his ass!
The man quickly obeyed, draping the cloth back over the newly-purchased slave.
Silas Bracken broke out of his stunned state and quickly said, “Please come with me, Mr. Wayne, and we’ll process the
paperwork.”
Bruce rose from the chair and followed the slave dealer to the anteroom. Bracken closed the door behind them.
“I have the bill of sale here.” Bracken held out the paper. “You’ll have to fill in the name. He couldn’t remember his and the slaver
who held him decided just to put the registration number on the papers.”
Bruce took the paper and noted that there were a lot of empty spaces. The birthplace of the slave was left blank due to his amnesia,
and his age as well. Bruce guessed him to be around the same age as himself, mid-twenties. There was no bloodline listed, either,
due to the memory loss.
Lucius will think I’m nuts for buying a slave for this price and having no lineage at all.
One line filled in was Race: Human. Not so exotic as some Orion, perhaps, but he suited Bruce’s purposes. He also noted the
weight and height, also approximately his own. A good match.
Bracken opened a large wooden box and produced a smaller one. “Here is a supply of the medicine he needs. There is an
information card in there with a number to call when you start running low. He needs weekly injections.”
Bruce took the box of drugs, eying the red liquid in each bottle. A hypodermic spray and disinfectant was included.
Bruce set aside the box and took out his checkbook, barely cognizant of all the zeros, and handed it to the dealer.
“Have your man properly clothe my slave. I don’t wish to parade him nearly naked in front of the whole city. Also, I want to use a
private entrance. No Veil, but I don’t want anyone besides my chauffeur to see his face unobscured.”
“Very good.” Bracken reached into the large box again. “One last thing.” He took out a very small box, holding it carefully with two
hands by rings attached to the sides. “If the manacles and collar are accidentally removed, you can use what is in this box.” At
Bruce’s puzzled look, Bracken explained, “I know such things are never removed, but things happen. The metal in the bracelets
and collar help with your slave’s condition. They’re coated with an alien substance that helps with his illness, a new discovery.
Not on the general market yet.” He handed it over to Bruce. “I wouldn’t recommend opening it unless such a thing happened. The
mineral from which the coating comes is best kept under lock and key unless in dire emergency.”
Bruce was surprised at the weight of the box. He hefted it and realized that it was lead.
Bracken handed him an old-fashioned key for the lead box. “Congratulations, Mr. Wayne. You are now the proud owner of a prize
whore.” Bracken left the room.
Bruce stared down at the array of items the dealer had given him. Not only had he broken the habit of a lifetime by buying a
bedslave, he had spent a small fortune doing it, and now needed drugs and alien minerals to keep his ill slave healthy.
My god, what have I done?