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.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Chapter 168

Commander Credit removed the section of cubicle wall.  Immediately beyond was a corridor, but it was unlike all the previous hallways. The light was dim.  After-hours dim, like an office at midnight. There was the occasional fluorescent bulb which cast its dull grey light.  Many of these sputtering, giving off a nervous flicker in the murky space.
The Union crept down the hallway, instinctively huddling close to Commander Credit and the greed-gun assurances of where the danger lay. 
The commander froze. 
He pivoted slightly and craned his ear at an odd angle. After a moment he lunged forward, grabbed a section of cubicle wall, and yanked it free. A small, runty man hissed at them, his body pulled into a tense ball as he crouched in an undersized recess. 
There was a collective intake of breath from the Union.
“Jesus!  What kind of freaky–” Business Woman started.
Before she could finish, the runty man sprang from his perch, snarling and swinging like a rabid baboon.  Several blows drum-rolled over various parts of Franklin Buck’s body, but before an “ouch” or a “hey” or even a doubled up grunt could be muttered, The Outsourcer had bounded away, landing on Demand’s shoulders, smacking and head-butting, then vaulting toward Senior Executive.
Commander Credit grabbed The Outsourcer by the scruff of the neck and was promptly dealt several slapping kicks to the face for the effort.  The Commander lost his grip and The Outsourcer hit the ground, handspring up and immediately cuffed Senior Executive across the temple.  He made a quick succession of twirling flips, growled, and disappeared into a hidden cubicle panel further down the corridor.
Corporate Man raced to the panel but when he opened it he found no tunnel, just a section of carpeted wall.
“What the hell was that?” Franklin Buck yelled his hands seeking injuries to sooth but unable to decide between the multiple options.
“Mr. Outsource,” Corporate Man said.
“Not these days,” said Senior Executive.  “Insists on being called The Outsourcer.”
“Well whatever he calls himself, he’s still a pain in the ass,” said Business Woman.
“He’s right here,” said Commander Credit.  He was standing at the opposite wall, about twenty yards down the corridor.  The final light on the greed-gun blinking red.  He tore the carpeted paneling away and held up his cybernetic arm.  A series of blinding flashes sparked from the end of his hand in a strobe of bug-zapper clicks.
There was s squealing, hissing sound.
Commander Credit shoved his hand into the hidden tunnel space, pulled out The Outsourcer, and slammed the runty man into the adjacent wall. The Outsourcer made a chocked sound, like a cat working up a hairball, and then groaned.  Commander Credit brought his knee up while thrusting The Outsourcer down.  The resulting collision caused a thick whitish spray to come spitting our of the runty man’s thinly mustached lips.
“There’s your little weasel,” Commander Credit said, tossing The Outsourcer down the corridor, toward the Union.  The runty man rolled, arms flailing, to a stop at Corporate Man’s feet.
Corporate Man grabbed The Outsourcer by the hair and yanked his head up so they were face to face.  A slightly startled, more than a bit concerned, look pinched Corporate Man’s face.
“This isn’t him,” he said.
“Looks just like him,” said Senior Executive.
“Except this guy’s Mexican,” Business Woman said, pointing to the bleeding man Corporate Man held.
“So,” said Franklin Buck.
“The Outsourcer’s a white guy,” she said.
“Who are you?” Corporate Man asked the man who was not The Outsourcer.  “What are you doing here?”
“Working.  Just working,” said the outsourcerish man.
“For whom?” said Senior Executive.
“Don’t know.  They pay me.  Ask for me to look like him.  Is all I know,” he said.
“Seriously?” said Senior Executive.  “Am I understanding this correctly?  The Outsourcer outsourced his own job to Mexico?”