Mainstream Deviation

MAINSTREAM DEVIATION

Title: Mainstream Deviation (Stranger in a Deviant Land)
Genre: Sci-fi, Drama
Ratings: Meh, PG-13 for this one folks.
Warnings: slavery, mild violence, and random angsty boyness
Disclaimer: Mine and you should damn well remember it.

CHAPTER FOUR

The blackness in Haru’s mind was thick and immense, heavy and yet weightless, floating aimlessly. The mindscape that the unconscious youth found himself in was cool and empty, an echo hall for all the worries of his drugged psyche. He knew not of how long he had meandered aimlessly through murky thought corridors and he was only vaguely aware of how he’d found himself there in the first place. All was covered in a consuming sort of pitch fog. Penetrated only dimly by the merest of lightsources. Even in this space of frigid dearth there was a part of Haru’s mind that still functioned and begged him to escape the mental state of paralysis he now found himself in. The tiny pinprick of light slowly matured into a nimbus that began to consume him and blind him, sending off shrieking warning bells that made being asleep far more unpleasant than being awake.

Eventually Haru gave up and roused, his eyes fluttering open to the soft radiance of morning sunlight. Dazed, he remained completely still in remembered paralysis, unsure whether or not his body could even accomplish movement yet. His lavender eyes roved over his surroundings carefully, taking in everything, but gleaning surprisingly little. He knew that, at the very least, he was definitely inside. There was sunlight on his skin and he could hear the whistling song of zephyrs kissing the unyielding glass of windows. The boy, who was on his back with his upper torso laying slightly to the left, could see a cream colored wall with a distinctly modish, silver-framed painting. It was useful information, yes, but Haru was going to have to move his body if he wanted to know more about this strange place.

Reluctantly Haru tried to force himself out of his comfy recumbant position by bracing his elbows and pushing. He was immediately surprised to find his elbows sinking into something soft and malleable that surrounded his whole body. For a moment he struggled about, managed to gain enough purchase to sit up and see that he was sprawled artistically in the middle of a huge feather bed. What in blazes was going on here?!

Haru pulled his legs towards him in preparation to stand and perhaps even flee, gasping when he felt the oddest sensation along those slender limbs. He cast his pastel purple eyes down towards the disturbance and felt his eyebrows raising clear into his hairline over what he saw. His legs were encased up to the mid-thigh in dove gray silk stockings, totally shaved as a woman’s legs would be and the narrow ankle encased within a silver cuff. Upon inspection, Haru realized that his whole body was as provocatively clad; his small hips wrapped in black leather shorts that hung remarkably low on his pelvis and rose dangerously high up on his bum. It looked like he was wearing hot pants! The shirt on his torso was a dark purple button-down that showed off his lithe stomach and was only partially buttoned. Vaguely Haru percieved something on his neck and he shakily reached up to discover a collar! A dog collar!

Officially perterbued now, Haru pushed himself up all the way and growled when the silver chain attatched to his ankle cuff jerked short and retarded his best efforts. Between the bed attempting to devour him and the chain tinkling annoyingly away, the young singer wasn’t going anywhere fast. The urge to panic was rising quickly in his gut and unbidden thoughts of gay pleasure houses sprang to his overactive mind. Oh sweet God. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Haru could feel his heart thudding and heavy, fighting itself out of his chest and into his quivering throught. His mouth went as dry as cotton and his trachea tightened in worry, threatening to suffocate him right on the spot. It would seem that his situation had just been given a violent shove into serious.

As the boy lay panting and shivering on the big bed, a small sound crept over the rapid tattoo of his tom-tom heart. It was a faint sound, oh how very faint, like the barest rasp of music cast into the wind. It wasn’t unlike the subtle trill of a finely crafted flute, and yet it was more real, less silvery. It charmed Haru and seemed to calm him, drawing his up and towards the large circular window opposite the painting on the far wall where clean sunlight poured in. There upon the windowsill was a small yellow canary, a distant descendant of the pets that had been brought along to the planet’s initial colonization. That was odd as much as it was beautiful. No birds survived in Mainstream City. They’d died out when the pollution had bloomed. If that really and truly was a canary…then where in the world was Haru??

Entranced by the foreign birdsong, Haru failed to hear another far more ominous sound making its way down the corridor that must have lay outside the room. In fact he did not hear the oppressive click-thump of fine leather shoes until it was at the door of the room itself and by then it was too late. Haru could only watch with wide lavender eyes as the door swung open, the hinges squeaking slightly as if warning the room’s occupant. The bird shot away into the morning sky and in walked none other than Mr. Rurik Maksim with his dark skin, platinum locks and strangely red eyes. Wait…red? Hadn’t they been blue when last the two had met? Oh lord…this meant…this meant that Rurik was a Deviant Viral!! God…

The Deviant smirked in a suave, devilish fashion, noticing Haru’s sudden epiphany from where it was written across his face, “Do not look so surprised, my pet. I have merely removed my colored contacts. I see no reason to wear them in the comfort of my own home.”

Haru was shuddering almost as though in the grips of a severe epileptic fit, trying to back away from the other man as slowly as possible. He looked at him as though he were a violent stalking predator seeking to eat Haru’s heart, “That’s…that’s not possible,” he whimpered, “Deviants aren’t allowed --.”

“In the Mainstream City.” Rurik cut him off and couldn’t help a gentlemanly chuckle, “My dear boy…what you say WOULD be true…if we were even in the city. You see child, while you were having a pleasant little nap thanks to the Sex Candy we were able to remove you from that technological CYST you call a city. You are now in the Deviant Capital…a full week’s travel away. May I take this opportunity to welcome you home?”

When Haru did find his tongue, it was a caustic one full of bitterness and defiance, “No! This is not my home! You stole me AWAY from my home, you lofty bastard!!”

“This is your home now, Mr. Kanzaki. You see, you belong to me now, ergo this is officially your home and I recommend you get used to it quickly. Leaving will NOT be an option as a very VAST expanse of desert and city stands in your way,” The tall Deviant informed his captive in a suddenly stiff tone that was a far cry from his formerly jovial one. Anticipating argument, Mr. Maksim raised his hand in a halting gesture, “Spare your voice, Mr. Kanzaki. I don’t have time for bile righyt now, but feel free to scream at me when I return from business if I am not too tired. Don’t harass the servants. Be good.”

As the smarmy, arrogant Deviant sauntered out of the room, Haru growled and threw a pillow with all his might. The squishy item whipped through the air and smacked sluggishly against the now closed door, oozing down to rest like a big marshmallow at the base. It mocked him. This whole damn place mocked him and his childish impotence! It wasn’t FAIR damn it all!

But…even through the haze of anger Haru was able to think properly enough to remember that he had known this was going to happen, hadn’t he? Deep in his heart he’d known from the very moment he’d looked into Rurik’s cold faux blue eyes that he was ensnared for better or for worse. Unfortunately the situation seemed to have gotten worse without possibility of parole. Haru had warned himself that Rurik was a stalker, but he hadn’t listened. He’d gone for the bait like a big, thickheaded fish. Now he was trapped on the carefully laid hook and Haru, being an only partially stupid man, was fully aware of what was to be his fate. The life of a wicked Deviant’s slave was what lay efore him, quite literally binding him with a silver chain.

For a time Haru sat in the middle of the big bed stewing in his anger, his eyes narrowed and his breathing heavy. The back of his neck burned with indignance and he looked positively furious, totally capable of killing the first person who even looked at him the wrong way, wringing the bed’s remaining pillows in his hands. He stayed on that caustic adrenaline high for about an hour, muttering to himself about how very unlucky he was and how very much he wanted to wring Rurick’s neck the same as he was mauling the pillow in his slender hands.

However the adrenaline didn’t last and after only that short hour Haru lost his high to a sharp, sinking tide of overwhelming depression. The ranting ebbed and tears flowed in to take its place, welling up in his slightly puffy lavender eyes. At last he gave in to bitter weeping as sure as any woman or child would, flopping down against the fluffy comforter to hide his overheated face from the world. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry because he truly looked like hell and it was so embarassing. What sort of self-respecting Mainstream Deviant, raised in the hard streets, would ever be pansy enough to sob like he was now? Oh what an utter disgrace he felt. He was both a fool and a fop all in one.

You could only imagine his utter, glaring horror hen his little pitiful corner of the world was shattered by the ominous creak of a door. He tightened up in a little ball and tried to still his tears but they would not be stemmed. For a moment he waited to hear the hideous squeak of Rurik’s leather shoes, but instead his ears were assailed only by a child’s laughter. There was a tiny, effeminate voice bubbling in his ear the very next moment, causing him to jump just a wee bit, “You shouldn’t cry so much, mister. It’ll give you a sore throat, it will!”

Growling in his throat, Haru raised his head, the hair hanging loose in his eyes doing very little to hide the redness from his tears. He tried hard to glare at the speaker, but the expression faltered when he saw who his tiny tormentor really was. There before him stood a lean-limbed boy child of clearly mixed descent. His skin was deviantly dark in a saudi tan and his round eyes were a stunning jeweltone purple. The smile on his lips was brilliant, creating a warm glow all around him. The sun from the window ruffled through his short, sleek milk chocolate colored hair, making the cottony strands dance slightly. He was a happy child in appearance and his clothes were nice enough so all that Haru could really discern wwas that this boy was probably a Quasi Viral.

Not in a mood for humoring others, the older boy upon the bed ground out through his teeth around a headache that was forming very swiftly, “Who are you?”

A maddeningly adorable grin spread across the boy’s face and he chirped out, “My name is Pochi! It’s funny you don’t know who I am. I know who YOU are.”

Haru fought quite valiantly to keep his eye from twitching at the tooth-rotting cuteness that was assaulting his eyes and ears, “…and who am I then?”

“That’s easy! You’re daddy’s new pet! He called you Haru last night when he was telling me to stop poking you in the arm. You’re a really hard sleeper, you know that?” Pochi spoke with the utmost confidence as only a small child could.

Bristling at the way he had been addressed, Haru knotted his hands in the blankets he was laying on and fell silent. There was no mistaking the feral snarl on his face at the very idea of having Maksim’s brat call him another person’s pet. His violet eyes turned a shade darker and Pochi, not being a mentally handicapped child by any means, was starkly aware that the room’s atmosphere had changed. In his naivete, the child inched forward and held out his tiny hand to initiate a gesture of comfort towards the sad looking pet. He wanted to pat Haru on the hand and tell him it was okay like you were supposed to when people were scared…like daddy did for him.

Instead of setting his small hand upon Haru’s as intended, Pochi found his fingers wrapped in a notoriously unyielding grip, like iron covered in warm flesh. It hurt…it hurt a lot! Naturally the child did what any self-respecting small boy would do in a state of extreme distress. He screamed blue murder.

Almost immediately there were footsteps pounding down the corridor, Pochi’s terrified, pained cries bringing help running. In an instant that felt like hours to Pochi and Haru, locked in a semi-silent battle, the room came to life with people. Some fought to remove the boy from Haru’s grip while others tried to urge the two to calm down so that this might end peacefully. It seemed like the youth wasn’t going to release the jurvenile and the help themselves were starting to panic for real. In truth the situation as a whole may have only lasted a minute at most but to the adrenaline fueled occupants of the room it was like hours before the blowup was finally resolved. It ended with a crack liken unto avenging lightening from above as a heavy cane of something that resembled ritan whipped down and caught Haru on the wrist with an unnerving “thunk-crack!”. The sound was mostly drowned out by the slave’s yowl of agony.

Immediately, Pochi was released as Haru drew his hand away in order to nurse his welted, bleeding wrist. Through the fiery, burning pain, Haru was able to see the one who had administered the blow and his blood ran cold. Standing there in front of him was a willowy albino male with rabbit-pink eyes and hair as white as virgin snow. For a moment, Haru thought the man looked familiar before his eyes teared up in pain and he clenched his teeth together, turning his agonized face away from the throng of staring people who surrounded him. At the moment his wrist was horrible, but he was pretty sure his pride was the more wounded. He barely registered as the watchers filed out with Pochi Maksim in tow, the boy looking both scared and worried as Haru curled up to weep into the blankets once more.

It was true that Haru had hurt him and given him quite a bit of a scare, but getting hit with that can had to have hurt quite a lot more as far as Pochi was concerned. Haru had even been bleeding! The boy walked along the hallways with his mind in another place entirely until he became aware of a door shutting behind him and the smooth tones of the albino disciplinarian easing over his musings like pale silk, You’re pensive, Pochi. Did he scare you so much?”

“What does pensive mean, Waif?” The dark-skinned child was being deliberately avoidant towards the other man, slightly peevish over how much he had hurt Haru.

The man called Waif sighed heavilly and led the boy down hallways towards his rooms, trying hard not to let the boy see him rubbing his sinuses to ward off a stress headache, “You know perfectly well what it means, Pochi. I taught you that word personally during your studies if you care to recall. Now please be so kind as to answer my original question, young master.”

A heavy yawn escaped the small mouth and Pochi tormented his protector further, not ready to let him have things so easy, “You asked if I was pensive, right?”

“NO, Pochi. I asked if your father’s slave frightened you. Honestly there are some days when I do not know what to do with you.” Waif couldn’t bite back the frustration in his voice but he did make sure to temper it with as much professionalism as he could muster in the face of an adamant eight year old.

Suddenly, Waif was treated to a pair of dark plum eyes glittering with anger that could make even the boldest adult cringe in terror. His lower lip was jutted ever so slightly in a suggested pout that never really bothered to form itself the rest of the way. Both of his tiny fists were balled at his sides and his eyebrows were knitted together in a universal expression of utter distaste that forced Waif back a step in shock. That was odd. Normally Pochi was never truly angry at him, usually just annoyed over a particularly long lesson or a lecture. The pink eyes blinked down at the irate child as that small, effeminate little voice barked out in a manner most clear, “Why does it matter? Are you trying to make it okay that you made him bleed?”

Waif watched the child for a moment with his arms folded over his chest while he considered what was going on. After a moment he chuckled and shook his head, “Is that what this is all about? Pochi, I didn’t do it to be mean. I merely did my job. My job is to protect you and to keep your father’s slaves in line. He crossed the lines of both of my duties so I had to correct his behaviour. The first strike must always be the hardest so that they learn better.”

“Don’t laugh at me!” Pochi huffed over the giggle.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Pochi. I was merely laughing over the fact that you let him get to you so quickly. Normally you don’t get attached like that. I find it…endearing.” The man reached down to give his ward an affectionate pat on the head, blinking as it was batted away in irritation.

“I’m going to tell father about what you did if you don’t apologize right now.” Pochi demanded in an only slightly spoiled tone.

The albino grew stern, his slightly jovial moment gone, “I’m not going to apologize for doing my job, little master, especially considering that he could have broken your wrist. I think you might want to reconsider your tone towards me. I may be your father’s subordinate but I do not tolerate disrespect. You know this.”

Waif watched in ever growing resignation as the boy’s eyes narrowed and he stormed off without another word. The disciplinarian knew that Pochi would be angry at him, but he had to inform his father of the infractions committed today. No one knew better than Waif how much the child was loved, so it clearly pained him in these moments when he was forced to make bad reports to the boy’s father. However, Waif was not so emotional a man that he let it get in the way of his job so, bracing himself up, the man strode down a long hallway that led to the office of Rurik Maksim. This was going to be a most interesting audience indeed….


A/N: Soooo sorry about how long this chapter took, but I was trying desperately to lengthen it out some. I abhor short chapters. It’s been a little hard to write lately considering how sleep deprived I am thanks to the guests that invite themselves over to the apartment. I’ve realized that my roommates aren’t the problems and that they’re wonderful people….it’s the people that they associate with who deserve napalm in the deepest recesses of their bodies. Whoops! A little dark there! Provided at the bottom of this chapter are a list of the characters thus far for those who are just joining us!

Haru Kanzaki (19)- A Mainstream Viral from the slums of the big city. He was a stunning singer before he was stolen away to the Deviant capitol for sinister reasons unknown. Haru is fiery and stubborn, full of life. He doesn’t let others push him around if he can help it.

Rurik Maksim (???)- A Deviant Viral of prestige from the sprawling capitol across the desert. He has taken a liking to Haru and taken it upon himself to add the boy to his home. Rurik is cool and professional from what little we’ve seen of him, willing to do whatever it takes to get whatever he wants.

Raoul Ishid (32)- A Mainstream Viral from the slums of the city and Haru’s absolute best friend. He was a bouncer in the club where Haru worked and was his impromptu bodyguard. Raoul is devoted to his dear friends, but can seem relatively emotionless to others.

Pochi Maksim (8)- A Quasi Viral and the supposed son of the fascinating Rurik Maksim. He can be a little spoiled when it comes to the things he wants, but his heart is in the right place.

Waif (???)- A strange albino of unsure descent, he is employed by Rurik Maksim as a teacher, bodyguard, and disciplinarian for his household. Waif takes his job very seriously but is he really as distant as he likes to seem?