Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Ollie/Dinah, Clark/Bruce, Martha Kent
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. As Bruce and Clark try and adjust to being lovers as well as Master and slave, on a warm spring night a new member of the Wayne Household is added: a little boy whom Bruce sadly identifies with. Dick Grayson further pushes Bruce along the path of Abolitionism as the child brings further Light into the Manor. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Summary: Slave-smuggling makes Bruce feel even more protective of his Household while Clark takes care of him.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): November 13, 2007
Date Of Posting: July 29, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1518
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Looks like this chapter can be entered into the 2008 DCU Fic/Art Endless Summer Challenge. :)
Body and soul,
Part and whole,
I am yours.
King Jameson’s Prize
"Jewel Of Great Price"
Green Arrow and Black Canary flew after the fleeing duo under the Star City moon. The Archer let fly a smoke arrow and the Canary employed a low level of her Cry, the two men staggering to the ground. Both heroes jumped down and collared them.
“So, Blackie,” said Green Arrow with a predatory smile, “gonna sing like the Canary?”
The middle-aged man stuttered, “N…No. I m…mean yes!”
“Good. Darlin’, what have you got there?”
“Some woozy gentleman.”
“Gentleman? You’re too kind.”
The couple hauled up their catch. Blackie whined, “C’mon, Arrow, I got nothin’ for you.”
“Au contraire, Blackie.” Green Arrow poked his captive’s chest. “You’ve involved with that smuggling ring.”
“That ring was busted weeks ago in Gotham.”
“That was one ring, yeah. Slave-smuggling is a lucrative business.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about the whore trade.”
“Aw, c’mon, Blackie.” Green Arrow nudged the crook playfully. “You and your buddy here are slave-stealers from way back.”
“Is that true, Junior?” Canary asked the younger thug.
The younger man stared at her with defiance but Green Arrow noticed the slight tremor in the kid’s hands. Excellent.
“C’mon, Handsome, give it up.” Canary winked.
Blackie muttered, “Keep yer mouth shut, kid.”
“Blackie, Blackie, Blackie.” Green Arrow shook his head. “Do you think that your boss cares if you’re hung out to dry?”
“He cares if I open my yap and rat him out.”
I gotta give him that.
“Okay, boys, guess it’s time to call in the Batman.”
“Whoa, why does he need to get involved?”
“Because this ring stretches all the way to Gotham.”
“That was the ring that got busted.”
“What, another ring can’t pop up to take its place?”
“Look,” Blackie said nervously, “There’s no need for the Batman to get involved.”
“He won’t if you tell us what we need to know.”
Blackie licked his lips. “Lissen, Arrow, there’s nothin’ to tell.” He shrugged. “We snatch fancypants’ slaves and sell ‘em. End of story.”
“Really?” Black Canary said. “Then why are some scheduled for public auction?”
“We sell ‘em to brothels and private owners so they don’t yap.”
“But a consignment is slated for public auction,” she persisted.
“I don’ know nothin’ about that.”
Green Arrow saw the younger man shift his feet. “What have you got to say, kid?” He stroked his goatee thoughtfully.
The kid’s brown eyes darted around. “Me?” He shrugged bony shoulders. “I got nothin’ to say.”
Green Arrow sidled up to him. “C’mon, you look like a bright kid. Why are some of the slaves going on the public block where they could squawk?”
The kid looked at Blackie, who frowned.
& & & & & &
Bruce shuffled the papers on his desk at Wayne Enterprises. Sunlight flooded into the expansive office, creating barred patterns on the dark-blue carpet.
He always enjoyed the view of the city, though admittedly he was more familiar with it at night.
He began typing on the keyboard. He could have voice-activated the computer but preferred to keep this silent, and he activated the chatroom software.
<bw1 @ yippee.com>: M., what is your org.’s policy on underlegals?
<mck27 @ aohell.com>: We keep an eye on certain situations but there are laws on the books that prohibit it.
<bw1>: What about the illegal brothels?
<mck27>: They are a problem. We try to monitor them as best as we can, but it’s a lurid business.
<bw1>: Do you have any initiatives on the subject besides monitoring? Any public awareness programs?
<mck27>: No. It’s a very touchy subject. People prefer it swept under the rug.
<bw1>: I’d like to write you a check and see if you can start a program. Abusing slave children is illegal, but too many freemen ignore that law.
<mck27>: Thank you, B. If the leadership won’t commit to this, I’ll return the money.
<bw1>: Keep it. I’m sure you can use it.
<mck27>: Again, thank you, B.
<bw1>: I intend to do more. You’re in Metropolis next week. Can we meet?
<mck27>: I’ll check my schedule and send you a date and time.
Satisfied, Bruce signed off. Next he opened a window to his account and wrote out two on-line checks: one to the National Abolitionist Society, and one to Haly’s Circus.
The check to Haly had one string attached: use the money for operating expenses and make it unnecessary to prostitute any slaves.
Especially the use of underlegals as ‘warm-up acts’.
& & & & & &
“You look tired, Master.” Concern was strong in Clark’s voice.
“I am a little.” Bruce put his briefcase on the hall table, rubbing his temple.
“Come into the library. I’ll get you some tea.”
“That sounds heavenly.”
Bruce sat on the couch and soon Clark arrived with the tea.
“Up with your feet.”
With an indulgent smile, Bruce stretched out on the couch. While he drank his tea, Clark removed his shoes and socks and massaged his feet.
“Mmm, you spoil me, my love.”
Clark smiled. “You’re easy to spoil, Bruce.” His eyes shone with love. “You take luxuries for granted, yet you deny yourself so much.”
Bruce wiggled his toes. “I never deny myself you.”
Clark laughed softly and gently wrapped his hand around a warm foot, his thumb stroking up and down. “’Body and soul, part and whole, I am yours.’”
Bruce tingled at the recitation of the ancient poem. Written by one of the most famous pleasure slaves in history, it was used by those practicing the craft in artful ways.
Except that Clark was also speaking as a lover as well as a slave.
Bruce set aside his teacup and held out his arms. “Come here.”
Clark obeyed, sitting beside Bruce as their lips came together.
Sighing, Bruce and Clark parted. Bruce flipped open his cellphone. “Bruce Wayne here.”
“Hey, Brucester. Check your b-mail for a few interesting facts.”
Bruce smirked. “Are you sending me dirty pictures, Ollie?” He entwined his fingers with Clark’s. “I have all the fantasies I need right here.”
Clark smiled while Ollie’s laugh spilled out over the phone.
“I just bet you do. But the mail is business.”
“Okay, I’ll go and check it out. Thanks, Ollie, and say hello to Dinah for me.”
“Will do. ‘Bye.”
“’Bye.” Bruce snapped the cellphone shut and smiled in amusement. “To the Batcave!”
Clark laughed and followed Bruce to the grandfather clock.
Down in the Cave they headed straight for the computer.
“Computer on,” Bruce said.
It took a few minutes to get running, but then Bruce was checking his ‘b-mail’. This computer was safe from Government snooping.
“Hmm, a new twist to the smuggling ring in Star City, ” Bruce said. Clark looked at the screen from his chair next to Bruce. His head nearly touched Bruce’s, his eyes taking in all the data.
“The slaves slated for public auction are being given mindwipe drugs,” Clark said softly.
“Mmm.” Bruce was reading the chemical composition. “Computer…” he highlighted the relevant text “…print.”
Clark got up and went to the printer, bringing back the sheets of paper.
“So this isn’t common?” Clark re-seated himself while handing Bruce the print-outs.
“No.” Bruce studied the formula. “When smugglers steal slaves, they sell them off-world, usually to places where they don’t know the language and can’t alert anyone to their rightful ownership.”
“But I thought some were sold to brothels and private owners here on Earth.”
Bruce nodded. “Brothel owners can keep their slaves either drugged into haziness or no one cares that the slaves are stolen.” He kept his gaze on the print-outs. “Private owners would keep stolen slaves under a strict House Veil.”
“Why not give them the mindwipe drugs and not go through all that?”
Bruce kept his eyes on the print-outs. “Mindwipe drugs damage Human minds. This new batch must be either a new formula, or the thieves didn’t care about damage. Which isn’t good for their bottom line, so I’d say it’s a new formula.”
Clark touched the back of his head. Well, that lump he had upon awakening proved his amnesia had been delivered the old-fashioned way.
Silence filled the Cave except for an occasional skittering from above as Bruce studied and Clark remained quiet at his side.
“We’ll have to keep our eyes on this ring. From the looks of this list, they’re stealing…kidnapping…quality slaves.”
Clark blushed as Bruce looked at him, taking his hand and squeezing it.
“We’ll have to take extra precautions whenever you or Alfred or Dick are off the estate.”
Clark nodded. Bruce felt a slight tremor in his slave’s hand. He lifted the hand up and brushed his lips over the knuckles, Clark relaxing. When Bruce spoke, his voice was very soft.
“I will protect you and Dick and Alfred with everything I have.” He leaned forward and whispered in Clark’s ear, “And I would make that pledge even if you were not manacled.”
Clark leaned into Bruce’s embrace. “I know,” he answered softly.