Corporate Man is called in to investigate reports of vile, unethical business practices at Great American Business Company. What he finds there just might destroy him (except we all know the ending to The Tragic Death of Corporate Man so it should be fairly obvious that it can't really destroy him, though it can come close).

Enslaved by the Bonus Whores is an all new Corporate Man Adventure Serial. Chapters will post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

After nearly a decade of imprisonment, Corporate Man returns to find the economy in ruins and his deadliest enemies in control of all but a fraction of society's wealth. He embarks upon a quest to set right the wrongs of the business world; a task that will ultimately destroy him.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Chapter 84

He stood in the shadows, his body stoic and rigid, silhouetted against the lights of the city outside the tall triangular window at the end of the expansive room on the top floor of the towering building.  His building.  Dark and ominous.  It wasn’t the tallest of the skyscrapers in the city.  Not officially.  If underground floors were counted, however, it would dwarf all others.
Word of The Greed’s recent encounter with Corporate Man had reached him and, had there been anyone in the room with him at the time, they may have seen a flash of white in the darkness as he smiled.
He moved to a console that jutted from the wall.  It activated in response to his proximity.  All of the buttons and lights and screens glowed a deep, evil red.
It was time.
He fingered a black toggle switch that stood in a red, illuminated circle.  The clacking sound it made was deep and echoed throughout the room.  The amount of money he had paid to get that sound just right was staggering.  Large red letters flashed across a man-sized display screen.
And then smaller letters appeared beneath.
The Crash.  Confirmed.
Mr. Outsource.  Confirmed.
Professor Inflation. Confirmed.
Before long they would all confirm.  He moved away from the console to an imposing, black office-chair.  It looked like some sort gigantic, wicked beetle, mounted not like a hunting trophy, but like an insect specimen skewered on a sharp needle.  He sat, wriggled into the chair’s squishy interior, stroked his luscious moustache, and tugged at the tuft beneath his bottom lip.
The Big Bossman was pleased.