Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Justice Arc) (23/61)
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Kara Zor-El, Kathy Kane, Barbara Gordon, Roy/Johnny (Roy does not appear in this chapter), Arlen Hawkins, Albert Scoggins
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): R
Summary: Different scenarios play out in the Gotham night.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): May 4, 2011
Date Of Posting: July 13, 2012
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1126
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: The magnificent story cover is by the wonderfully-talented ctbn60. Thanks so much, luv! :)
The night breezes
Caress the soul.
"Night And Day"
COMES THE NIGHT
The Blur was busy tonight. He had broken up a mugging, saved a drunken man weaving in the street from getting hit by a car, and rescued a kitten from a tree. Batman gave him the lift of an eyebrow. No doubt that Robin would have been delighted if he had been with them, but he was back at the Cave with Alfred serving out his punishment.
For a moment the Blur was Clark, rubbing his face as he thought of poor Dick being grounded. He understood why it had to be done, but it was still was unpleasant. He flew over the rooftops of Gotham as Batman checked out another section.
“You’d better be more alert, Kal-El.”
Clark startled. “Kara! What are you doing here?”
She floated beside him, her expression smug. “Sneaking up on you.”
“Well, don’t.” Clark calmed his racing heart.
“Rescuing kittens is work for the Sal-Vor?”
Clark grimaced. “I’m not the Sal-Vor. That’s your thing.”
She floated closer. “No, that’s your thing. You are the first-born of the House of El. Jor-El and Lara were your parents, and that means you have an obligation to save our people.”
“I will save our people when I’m ready to be the hero I need to be.”
“How? By breaking up petty crimes in this stinking backwater of a city?” She cocked her head. “Or are you too busy sucking Princely cock?”
Clark narrowed his eyes “That’s enough. Stop pushing me.”
“Time grows short.”
“I know that!” Clark sighed. “I’m sorry, Kara. I just need to be here for now.”
Her blue eyes were cold. “You have too many emotional ties to these people, Kal-El. You are Kryptonian, not Human.”
She flew off, Clark annoyed as he watched her go, but he knew that she was right.
He had to save his people.
Batwoman’s cape fluttered out behind her as she studied the street below. Batgirl was already silent but studious.
Batwoman was pleased by her protégé’s rapid progress. Batgirl was almost frighteningly-smart, quick to learn new moves, and was a budding detective. She would be a fine crimefighter on her own someday.
Batwoman followed her partner’s pointing finger up at the sky. She frowned as she saw the woman streaking through the sky.
“That’s not Wonder Woman,” said Batgirl.
“Maybe a new hero in town.”
“You mean we Bats and the Blur aren’t enough?”
“For Gotham? Probably not.”
Kara was furious. She could not believe that her cousin, blood-of-her-blood, was choosing his enslaver over his people. What hold did Bruce Wayne have over Kal-El?
He could just fly away and leave this enslaver, yet he chooses to stay.
She shook her head, flying leisurely above the clouds. She liked night flying, the stars twinkling so cleanly in the sky. She knew that Kal-El thought that he was in love with his enslaver, but a slave couldn’t love a Master anymore than a Master could love a slave. They were both fooling themselves.
She sighed. Sometimes she wished that she could just use her powers for enjoyment and forget about war and causes and everything else.
Closing her eyes, she listened to the whistle of the wind and felt the cool breeze on her skin, but her heart was still pained.
Kal-El doesn’t understand what it meant to watch his entire world be destroyed. He was too young to know. And he’s been contaminated by the Humans, especially that so-called Prince. She shook her head. Forget the anger. She flew higher.
Johnny tugged on his chains. He was propped up against pillows, his legs spread wide and held fast by ankle chains. He was, of course, completely naked.
He stared up at the ceiling. At least this bed was comfortable while he waited. The mansion was not as grand as those on the Gold Coast of Gotham’s outskirts, but it befit a senator.
Arlen Hawkins was a cold customer. When Johnny had entered the Chief’s car, he had immediately been forced to kneel in the back seat, Hawkins’ steely fingers digging into his shoulder. Scoggins had practically slavered over him, at one point shoving his face into his crotch. He was definitely aroused, but Hawkins had said, “We wait,” and Scoggins had dared not object, though he had painfully tugged on Johnny’s hair.
He had been dragged up to this room and told to disrobe. A pair of burly security guards had chained him to the bed and left without a second glance.
Johnny tried to focus on the job ahead. He was a pleasure slave now, not a firefighter/paramedic. From what Scoggins had sniggered about, he knew that he was going to service several men tonight. He had to get into the right frame of mind.
He swallowed hard, trying not to think about his old job or the guys at Station 51.
Tried not to think about Roy.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He had always known they had been living on borrowed time. He was a slave and Roy was a freeman, a man who could not afford a slave but was his Master nonetheless.
And more, so much more.
Johnny allowed the memories to wash over him: he and Roy riding in the squad on a call, fighting fires, shooting the breeze with Dixie at Rampart, eating and laughing with the guys, plotting to get the Phantom back, living and loving in Roy’s home, that felt like Johnny’s home, too.
He remembered not just making love, but the simple times of cooking, eating, hiking, watching TV…he had felt like a real human being, maybe for the first time in his life.
A tear slid down his cheek. He was nothing but a whore now. He had better leave his old life behind.
Voices outside the closed bedroom door snapped his eyes open and he tensed. He had to be ready. If there were only a handful of men, this bed could probably handle them, or maybe they would take him to a playroom with an enormous bed, hooks in the ceiling to chain him up and allowed him to lower himself on ready cocks while being whipped or paddled. He pushed aside the memories of past pain and steeled himself to serve.
The door opened and a jolt of fear went through him as he saw who was first into the room.
“Oh, Arlen, he is a beauty,” crooned the man, picking up Johnny’s cock and viciously squeezing it, laughing as Johnny gasped in pain.
Johnny’s moan was part pain, part despair as Edmund Caldwell traced his face with the silver head of his cane.