Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Justice Arc) (10/61)
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Annie
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. Clark begins training under the Bat and secrets are uncovered as the Abolitionist Movement makes rapid progress with old and new methods. Can Freedom outrace rumors of War as the Galactic Empire rushes headlong to a new future?
The entire series can be found here.
Genres: AU, Drama, Slavefic
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Summary: Clark and Bruce perform a rescue.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): March 6, 2011
Date Of Posting: April 17, 2012
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1192
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: The magnificent story cover is by the wonderfully-talented ctbn60. Thanks so much, luv! :)
Hear their sighs,
THE FIRST PASSENGER, TWENTY-THIRD CENTURY
The night after all the guests had left, Clark and Bruce were sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms after a successful patrol by Batman and Robin. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, stars sparkling in the clear night sky.
Clark awoke with a frown. He cocked his head, listening intently, a look of horror washing over his face. He climbed out of bed, pacing in agitation, the bars of moonlight shifting on his body as he moved. He stopped, decision made.
“Clark, what’s wrong?” asked a half-asleep Bruce.
“Caldwell is torturing a slave.”
“What?” Bruce sat up, fully awake now.
“He’s torturing a slave,” Clark said tightly.
Bruce realized that Clark could hear it and shuddered.
“I have to stop it.”
Bruce knew talking about rights and legalities was hollow at this point, and besides, he was tired of society’s restrictions himself. He swung his legs over and stood up.
“How do you want to do this?”
“Just the two of us. I don’t want Dick to set foot on that cursed estate.”
Clark could tell that Bruce was sick to his stomach at the thought. His own stomach was roiling.
“I can get in and out quickly as the Blur.”
“That could still show on camera.”
“Take only the one slave.”
“If Edmund starts up again, we’ll take them all. If you just take the one, it can be chalked up to her escape somehow, even if Blur evidence shows up.”
Clark shook his head. “Once the Blur shows up, they’ll know.”
“Then we’ll disable the security for a short time. They’ll know the slave had help, but they won’t be able to connect it to the Blur.”
Clark jumped slightly. “We’d better hurry.”
Clouds obscured the moon as guards patrolled Briarwood, the Caldwell estate. Security cameras kept a watchful eye on the surroundings.
Stealthily, a figure in black scaled the wall, using the camera’s blind spot to melt into the greenery that comprised the formal gardens. The figure reached a small guard shack at the edge of the gardens, quickly injecting the guard, who slumped forward.
Batman efficiently loaded in the tape of the gardens recorded just moments before, allowing the Blur to speed into the house.
Good thing I had Brad show me the set-up at the Manor. I can work this for the few minutes that Clark will need.
Batman watched the clock in the shack, hoping that the Blur would live up to his name. Despite popular belief, he did have nerves, and they were screaming at him to hurry up!
He saw the Blur whiz out of the mansion and quickly unloaded the old tape, replacing it with a fresh tape. He slipped out of the shack. When the guard woke up in a few minutes, he would think that he had fallen asleep. And even if it was speculated that there was an accomplice to help the slave escape, the Blur would not be a suspect, or there would be no proof even if he was one.
Batman disappeared into the shadows.
Clark set down the shivering slave in the cavern. Water dripped down the walls, the bats rustling overhead. He had brought her to the newly-discovered cave under Wayne Manor. The entrance would be walled off, but fresh air from the sea was coming in from small apertures high up in the walls.
He also wore a black cloak that hid his face, but he wore a domino mask just in case. He was clothed in black ninja-style shirt, pants, and boots.
The woman was naked, bleeding, and bruised. Clark said softly, “I’ll take care of your wounds.”
He had her sit on a blanket and used the medical kit that he and Bruce had brought to this cave. He gently washed her down, then treated her wounds, lasering deep cuts in her thigh and arm. The slave winced as Clark worked.
“What’s your name?”
Clark had used a nullifier to render the tracking signal in her collar useless. He smiled even though she could not see it.
“That’s a nice name.”
“Why did you steal me?”
Clark continued working on her arm. “Because I believe in freedom.”
“Because you were being tortured.”
Annie was still puzzled. “Caldwell slaves are tortured all the time. Why me?”
“If others are tortured, they’ll be rescued, too.” Clark finished working on her arm, then gently washed her body, cleaning off the blood, grime and semen. He then pointed to a pile of neatly-folded clothes. “Put these on. I’ll be back with a hot meal.”
Annie watched him move the stone covering the entrance and closing it behind him.
& & & & & &
Annie shivered, hastily pulling on the pants and shirt provided for her, surprised that she was allowed underwear, at least the pair of men’s boxers she found on top of the pile. There was no bra, but she rarely wore one or panties, either. Her Caldwell Masters liked easy access. She shivered at the memory of Halliburton putting his hand up her skirt, thrusting his fingers into her. It was his favorite thing to do, and she considered herself lucky. The Caldwell sons were more interested in humiliation than sadism, unlike their father.
Annie sat on the blanket, pulling her knees up as she waited. She did not really mind being taken in the mouth and ass at the same time. She was really skilled with her mouth, and her buttocks were round and firm. Harrison liked to pinch her nipples and Halliburton liked to shove vibrators into her, but there was usually minimal pain with those two.
It was the old man who struck terror in the hearts of the slaves.
She shifted slightly. Would this rescuer want to spread her legs or bend her over? Well, as long as he didn’t whip her raw or bring out a red-hot poker, she was okay with showing gratitude on her knees.
The stone rolled aside, her stomach growling as she smelled chicken soup. The cloaked figure set the tray on her lap.
“There’s chicken noodle soup, fresh bread, and Poland Springs water. Would you like another beverage?”
“No, the water is fine.” Annie looked up at her rescuer. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you, for freedom.”
“Is that all you expect?” She put a hand on his leg.
There was silence for a moment, only batwings rustling, and finally her rescuer said, “I expect nothing in return, Annie.”
Annie swallowed, the figure gently removing her hand.
“Eat and sleep now. You’re safe here.”
He left her to eat, her mind whirling. She was still uncertain. Wasn’t she a prisoner? She still was not one hundred percent convinced that he would not demand sexual payment, but she was exhausted. She was also hungry, so ate the soup and bread, which were excellent, drank the water, and used the extra blankets to keep warm as she slept, a small flashlight keeping her from total darkness.