Chapter 1

His father had taken Kurt to slave markets on multiple occasions, so Kurt knew how to talk to the slave traders and what the various banners indicated. However, Burt had never let Kurt go anywhere near pleasure slave markets. Now, standing in the middle of one of the biggest travelling pleasure slave markets that had put up its auction tents in Lima Ohio for the weekend, he understood why.

Rows and rows of slaves were lined up as far as he could see, their bodies scantily clad if not completely exposed. All of them were looking at the ground in what was supposed to be a respectful position, but the truth was that most of them had been trained to stand like this since their early childhood, so that the position held no meaning any longer. It was a rather chilly autumn day and the slaves were all trying to suppress tremors that threatened to shake their bodies.  He was somewhat glad to see that they had at least been given permission to wear shoes.

“Damn it, we should have come earlier, I hope there’s still some good ones here somewhere”, Santana mumbled under her breath so only Kurt could hear her.

“How can you even talk like that”, he hissed “They’re people!”

“You agreed to come, not my fault if you don’t wanna be here!” Santana said.

“I’m here because you are holding my new Marc Jacobs jacket hostage and you threatened to burn it if I didn’t give you a ride here!”, he pointed out.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go look for my birthday present. You can go pluck your eyebrows or whatever”, Santana said before wandering off. Kurt could tell her insults were half-hearted.

She would never admit it, but Santana was nervous. The real reason she had chosen to blackmail Kurt into helping her wasn’t because she needed a ride, but because Kurt was the only person in their Glee club who knew his way around a slave market. His father’s shop ‘Hummel’s Tire and Lube’ was the home of many slaves. Most people didn’t bother trying to teach slaves valuable skills, since most people didn’t even really consider them human, but Burt Hummel didn’t believe that. He liked buying ‘cheap’ slaves off the markets and teaching them all he could about cars. He took them in and gave them a roof over their heads, three big meals a day and an education. So far he had been able to turn each and every one of the ten slaves they had had in the past decade into a great mechanic.

What the Hummel slaves didn’t know and what Kurt had had no idea about either until it happened for the first time three years ago, was that Burt Hummel didn’t keep the slaves in his possession. After ten years he set them free with a bank account into which he had paid a monthly salary, not much less than he would have to pay a non-slave, for every month they had been with them. The difference was just enough to cover the additional housing costs etc. just enough to make sure that Hummel’s Tire and Lube was still making enough money. It was a generous stepping stone into an independent life for a slave. He also offered them the opportunity to stay employed at Hummel’s Tire and Lube, which so far every slave had happily agreed to. Of the three men who had been the Hummel’s slaves for over ten years, two had remained with them, while another one had left to get married and start a new life. Kurt was proud of his dad.

“Kurt!” Santana called, raising her arm high above her head, so he could make out her location through the rows off slaves. “Get over here!”

He sighed and passed through the 50% OFF section to get to the “NEW MERCHANDISE” section, which was marked by a bright purple banner with silver letters that seemed overly bright and enthusiastic hanging above all those miserable slaves. Though Kurt had to admit, the new slaves didn’t look anywhere near as exhausted and bruised as the other slaves. They did however look just as terrified. Kurt shook his head in disdain and joined Santana, who was looking at one of the slave girls as though Christmas had come early.

“She’s perfect”, Santana beamed. The girl was indeed beautiful, with long blonde hair that fell down her shoulders in a gentle wave. She was taller than Santana and slightly undernourished, but he could see that she had been perfectly fit and healthy up until recently; he could still see toned muscle from exercise. She must have been treated well, since she was a new slave. Since she seemed barely younger than Kurt and Santana, her parent’s owners must have held on to her for longer than most owners did. He wondered what made them sell her now. The girl had yet to react to their scrutinizing glances.

“Are you sure you’re done looking?” He asked Santana, who didn’t even bother to take her eyes off the slave girl to tell him ‘yes’.

“Alright, I’ll see if I can find a trader.” Kurt turned to leave, but on second thought turned back around and whispered “I was serious before, let me do the talking when I come back with a trader and meanwhile don’t let anyone else look at her. Just… don’t move.”

“Whatever, Glinda”, Santana dismissed him. But Kurt knew as he walked away that she would do as he told her anyway.

It took Kurt a surprising amount of time to even set eyes on a slave trader.  Sure, it was a busy day, but they were usually by a new customer’s side within a minute. But other than the armed personnel that guarded the perimeter and would shoot any slave stupid enough to try and run away on sight, the market seemed to be severely understaffed.  The two traders he did pass were already busy bargaining with other potential buyers. He had no desire to wait in line so he kept moving.

He made his way through the 75% OFF and the 87,5% OFF section and noted with a shudder that the clientele got rougher and dirtier the further he wandered from the NEW slave section.  The slaves in the 93,75% OFF section were some of the most pitiful creatures he had ever seen, each one of them seemed at the verge of collapse, with bones showing under sporadically cleaned pale skin. They were shivering more violently than the new slaves had, and when he averted his gaze he saw that not all of them had been given shoes and the ones that had been given shoes didn’t seem to have right sized ones. The traders must have run out of shoes. Kurt’s heart went out to them. If he could, he would buy them all and give them a nice home and as much food as they could possibly want. He and his family could never afford that though, so he could do nothing but look away and focus on not showing the disgust he felt on his face. Showing compassion for the slaves would not go well in this place.

Kurt found three traders standing in a semi-circle in the very back of the market, they seemed deep in discussion. While Kurt wouldn’t usually pass off an opportunity to rudely interrupt them just for the sake of making their day less comfortable, he couldn’t help but be nosy about why they’d be back here and not tending to the needs of their customers. He pretended to be interested in the last slave in the long line he had just passed, while eavesdropping on the trio of men who were caught up in an animated discussion not seven feet away from Kurt.

“…no way I’m putting this up, it’ll scare away the buyers.” Said one of the men, Kurt heard a cluttering noise and glanced over his shoulders to see that one of the men had thrown a purple banner on the ground. “What self-respecting traders bother dragging along a diseased one? I say we off him and be done with it.”

Lima had a few tight restrictions for slave markets. Traders were not allowed to kill slaves within Lima’s city limits. This was in no way a rule to protect slaves; it was put in place to protect Lima’s citizens from the smell of decomposing bodies that had not been properly disposed of. 

“You know we can’t do it while we’re still within city limits, we could lose our license.” Another man said in a calm voice. He was wearing a suit and looked very put together. Kurt assumed he must be the owner of the market since the average trader was usually clad in simple black pants and shirts.

“Look at ‘im! No one’s gonna buy that, I wouldn’t take ‘im if I got ‘im for free. That thing’s completely worthless.” The third man said.

“That doesn’t change the law. I won’t risk it. You can throw him off the bridge outside Marysville if you want, but until then you’ll have to put up with him.” The man in the suit insisted and turned to leave. “No use wasting food on him any more though.” He called back over his shoulder.

There was a quiet sob that caught Kurt’s and the remaining two men’s attention.

Kurt turned around slowly to see where the noise had come from and his heart sank. Now that the man in the suit had left, Kurt could see that the three men had been standing around a kneeling slave, thereby inadvertently shielding him from Kurt’s view.

It was a boy. Kurt couldn’t guess his age because his head was lowered so far that his neck had to hurt. The matted dark curls on his head hadn’t been brushed or washed in a while and looked awfully tangled and unclean. The boy was only wearing a pair of filthy old boxers that looked as though they were going to fall apart at any minute. He was so gaunt that Kurt could see his ribs sticking out from his exposed upper body. Large, dark bruises shone through the layer of grime he was covered in.

The first man grabbed a handful of the boy’s hair and yanked his head back.

“What was that, bitch?” He hissed. The boy whimpered, shaking his head as violently as the man’s grip on his hair allowed.

“Answer me, whore!” The man yelled in the boy’s face. “You think you deserve to be fed, huh? Think you gonna find someone else who still wants to fuck your diseased little holes? Is that what you think?”

“No, Sir”, the boy whispered. His voice was rough from disuse, he sounded entirely defeated.

Kurt felt as though he was going to be sick.

“Thought so”, the man said. He used his grip on the slave’s hair to shove him forward.  The boy landed face-down in the dirt at the two men’s feet.

“One more sound from you,” he emphasised the word ‘sound’ with a kick to the boy’s side “and I’ll personally drag you out of this town and put a bullet in your face.” He took another swing at the boy’s ribs before rubbing the hand he had used to yank at the boys hair on his trousers, as if to clear it of filth.

The other slave trader had watched with a disinterested look on his face, but he now pulled a syringe from his trouser pocket and uncapped the needle.

“You know what? Screw the boss and screw the city regulations, he’s only taking up space and I ain’t gonna drag his ass around another two days. If you wanna get rid of him so badly, I’ll give him this. We’ll put him back in the transporter and hide him there ‘til we get out of the city, whataya think?”

The second man grunted in approval.

Kurt was in front of them in a heartbeat.

They looked up at him in confusion. The shorter man quickly replaced the cap and pocketed the needle.

Kurt managed to take a calming breath and put on a falsely polite smile before saying “Excuse me, hello! I was wondering if I could take a look at that slave.” His heart was racing.

The two traders exchanged baffled glances, but put on their pleasant salesperson masks and took a step backwards.

“Of course, Sir”, said the shorter of the two men.

“But I gotta tell ya, he ain’t no good merchandise, you might wanna have a look in the 93.75 section if your allowance is limited, kid.” The taller one added, making Kurt wonder why he was talking a customer down from a possible purchase. The slave, who was lying on the dirty ground between the trader’s and Kurt’s feet, was very still.

“I assure you, my allowance isn’t that limited. I was actually looking for a trader to help me and my friend out in the “NEW MERCHANDISE” section, but I couldn’t find anyone.”

“Our bad, Sir”, the first man apologized, suddenly in a much friendlier tone now that he had smelled money. “We can head over there right now, if you’d like.”

“Gladly, but first I want to hear about this one.“ Kurt said, with a look at the slave’s direction.

“Very well, Sir.” The man went to collect a stack of printed papers he had stored away on a desk nearby while the other one dragged the boy back onto his knees for Kurt to inspect. As the shorter man browsed through a few pages, Kurt looked down at the slave. The trader who was holding him up tilted his head back with unnecessary force so Kurt could see his face. Kurt’s eyes immediately landed on the boy’s black eye as well as the dark handprint that was clearly visible around his throat. The only clean parts on the slave’s body were the tracks on which his tears had washed away dirt on his face. His lower lip was split open. The sickening feeling in Kurt’s stomach kept growing stronger.

The boy didn’t make eye contact, but Kurt could see that his eyes were a warm brown-green color. He seemed to be holding back tears and Kurt wondered if he looked frightening to the boy.

“Ah yeah,” the other trader had found what he was looking for in his stack of papers “okay, so this one’s 17 years old, had 6 previous owners, he’s a diseased one. Blood work came back positive for Syphilis, as you could probably see, we were about to put him out of his misery.”                                        

Kurt frowned. “Syphilis?” He asked “That’s easily treatable!”

“He ain’t worth the antibiotics”, said the second trader. “Anyway, if you want ‘im you can have ‘im for 20 bucks.”

“Deal!” He said, probably a little too loudly, but Kurt didn’t really care anymore, he wanted to get away from this place and these men as fast as he could.

“Very well then, now how about we head over to the “NEW” section?” The short man suggested and waved for the other man to drag the slave boy to his feet.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Kurt nodded and tried not to look behind him at the boy who was struggling to stay upright as the tall trader half dragged, and half carried him behind Kurt.

Kurt followed the shorter man and his stack of paper. When they reached the “NEW” section he took the lead and directed them towards the girl Santana was still standing in front of.

The Latina seemed to have coaxed the girl into looking up and was affectionately running her thumb over the blonde’s cheek. When she saw Kurt approach and shake his head at her, she quickly dropped her hand and the blonde lowered her gaze again.

“Is that the one you had your eyes on?” The short man asked and started going through his papers again.

“Yes, my friend and I would like to hear more about her.” Kurt said, placing a hand on the small of Santana’s back. The tall man who had been the slave boy caught up to them, Santana raised her eyebrows.

“Who’s that?” She asked in a slightly confused tone.

“I made another purchase, don’t worry it’ll all fit into the car”, he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. Santana smiled a very fake smile for the traders and said “I’m sure it will.”

The second trader sat the boy on the ground and joined his colleague to help him look for the blonde on their list, but kept an eye on the boy anyway. Kurt wondered if he imagined the hate in the man’s eyes.

He kept smiling and waited and, after what seemed like ages, they finally found the girl on the list.

“Alright, 17 years old, virgin, flawless skin, naturally blonde hair, a bit retarded though, so she’s not worth quite as much as a girl like her would usually go for. 10.000 bucks in total.”

“She’s not…” Santana started to protest.

“…worth that much!” Kurt cut in sharply, shooting Santana a look that made her fall silent instantly.

“8.000”, Kurt offered.

“We can’t give her away that cheap, 9.500,” was the short man’s counterproposal.

“9.000, take it or leave it,” Kurt insisted.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sir”, the short man chuckled. Then looked over his shoulder and sighed. “Alright, since you’re taking that off our hands as well… she’s yours for 9.000.”

“Great.” Kurt said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

The trader waved two of the guards over to them. “You two help the nice couple load their purchase in their car!” he ordered. “Let me walk with you so we can stop by the front desk to get the paperwork done.”

One of the guards slung the boy off the ground and over his shoulder, as though he was used to carrying damaged slaves around on a daily basis, while the second guard took Santana’s girl by the arm rather gently and guided her along behind her new mistress and Kurt.

The paperwork and payment was over and done with quickly. Two ladies who worked at front desk asked them whether or not they wanted their slaves tied up for the journey. Kurt answered yes, which made Santana frown at him in confusion, but Kurt knew it was suspicious if they didn’t agree. Binding a slave’s hands and feet was customary during travels, not tying them up was considered a safety risk.

Finally they left the sordid market behind and made their way to Kurt’s Navigator, with the guards now carrying both their slaves over their shoulders.

Kurt opened the Navigator’s trunk and the guards gently lowered the slaves into the car. Kurt had never been so thankful that his car was that big, at least both of them could sit up next to each other with their knees pulled up to their chins without hurting themselves.

He tipped the guards well and climbed in the driver’s seat just as Santana slammed the passenger’s door shut.

“I can’t believe…” she sobbed, but Kurt interrupted her one last time.

“Not yet Santana, we have to get out of here first, please.” He sped out the parking lot and onto the road home as fast as he thought he could go without being suspicious. He heard very soft snivelling sounds coming from Santana but he couldn’t deal with it yet. After about three minutes of driving, he pulled into a deserted parking lot. There was no one around, no houses, no pedestrians, just an empty drive in cinema parking lot.

Kurt stumbled out of the car and threw up his lunch in a nearby bush.