Chained; Chapter One

Kurt blinked as he stood across the hall from the sheet that would change his life forever. The ASC, (American Slave Corporation) had just set the required age of slave owning to 17. Meaning, when he became a senior, he would be entered into a ballot same as everyone else. Picked randomly, half of his grade will become slaves, and the other half their masters. No one really questioned it. It was just the way things worked around here, for a while now.

                They posted the sheet like they would the results of an audition, or signing up for cheerleading. A note on the bulletin board.

                Kurt spotted Rachel as she hurriedly rushed towards him, that fierce determined look in her eyes. Without warning, she grabbed him and started to speed walk forward, talking as she did. "Kurt, I swear. This is outrageous. I don't want to be some slave to some homophobic football player or something." Rachel flared, pushing past students and teachers.

                Kurt honestly was scared. Beyond belief. He didn't have much time to think about it before he was dragged a foot away from it, the notice simple yet ever so complicated.

                Rachel leaned close into the paper, a hush falling over the two of them. The noisy hallways seemed to disappear as Kurt tilted forward also, searching for Berry in the list. Rachel squealed, and Kurt knew she'd found her name. Only a second later he saw it.

                Berry, Rachel (Slave) to Fabray, Quinn (Master).

                Kurt looked over at Rachel, who could barely register anything that was going on. She was trying to keep herself calm, he could tell, but she was freaking out on the inside. She clenched her fists over and over, trying to stop the tears from pouring from her eyes. Because there was absolutely no way Rachel Berry was going to cry in the middle of the hallway over this. Kurt watched her storm off, hands rubbing at her eyes.

                Slowly, Kurt turned his head back towards the list. His eyes wandering down to the H's, he found his name.

                He, Kurt Hummel, was a slave.

                Hummel, Kurt (Slave) to Anderson, Blaine (Master).

                His breath caught in his throat. This was impossible. He'd never even met Blaine, never even heard of this kid. He could be some stoner, or delinquent, or worse, a homophobe. He breathed in and out, in and out, as he started to walk away. Walking away from the list with faked pride, he turned a corner, determined to find out who this Blaine Anderson was.