Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce
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 pleasure slave whom has fallen in love with him…but can the Prince of Gotham ever return that love? 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): PG-13
Summary: In the dark of night, the Bat surveys all.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): March 15, 2007
Date Of Posting: August 5, 2007
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 472
Author’s Note: Just a short chapter to kick things off, but hopefully sets the tone for the new arc. :)
He dwelt in the Ivory Tower,
Looking down upon the enchanted city
And suffering compassion for his people.
The Prince would always protect them,
Forever and a day.
“Enchanted Fairy Tales”
The night was black velvet, wrapping him in its sensuous folds. Stars glittered down to merge their starlight into garish streetlights, shadows flitting at the edges.
The city throbbed, life pulsing in its bars and clubs, in mansions and tenements. Laughter spilled out as revelers lurched down the street, smelling of cheap booze and stale cigarette smoke. Further uptown, the booze would be expensive and the cigarettes imported.
Wind blew over the rooftops, his black cape billowing out behind him in a tableau worthy of an old Victorian engraving.
The Batman surveyed his city, letting his rage wash over him. Rage against the scum that blighted his city, against the cruelties that Humans visited upon one another, against the memories of that damnable whip that had torn the flesh of his cherished slave into bloody strips…
He clenched and unclenched his gloved fist, the leather creaking as he pondered. He thought he had purged himself of that final rage. The first time that he had patrolled after the whipping, his rage had nearly blinded him with its intensity. Woe unto the criminals that night! The violence had been swift and bloody.
Possession was his lifeblood.
Batman hooked his grapple line over to the next building and flew. His cape spread out like wings, an Angel of Death over a city that needed a protector.
The Mission drove him, night after night, despite the Government’s wariness of costumed heroes.
Damn the Government. Busybodies. Always poking their noses in where they don’t belong.
He continued to fly, watchful and vigilant. He kept his heart locked away because he needed Strength. He needed Purpose.
He growled as a mugger slinked out from the shadows, lunging at an unwary businessman who reeled in shock as a knife slashed toward his face.
The knife clattered to the pavement, the mugger yelping in pain as the batarang clanged against the lamppost.
No matter what century, the darkness of men’s hearts remained.
The mugger was knocked out with one blow. “Call the police,” rasped the winged creature of the night to the astonished intended victim before he flew up into the darkness.
A beautiful night, autumn’s chill making the stars shine with crystal-cold clarity. He wrapped the cold around him like his cape.
‘He dwelt in the Ivory Tower, looking down upon the enchanted city and suffering compassion for his people. The Prince would always protect them…’
The old tale slipped through the Batman’s mind. He flew over Wayne Tower, over the Wayne Wing of Gotham General Hospital, over the building that housed the Wayne Foundation…
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