Chapter 176

6.y.

The Outsourcer sauntered down the corridor and into a room full of half-walled cubicles.  They wouldn’t be tracking him now, and the ones the greed-creature didn’t dispatch, he would hunt down at his leisure.  But for now, he was going to take a well earned coffee and cigarette break in his office.

There were two letters on his office door.  M and E.  It used to read MINE, but he found the message came across just as clear this way and only cost half as many letters.

He opened the door and walked inside, but it wasn’t his office.  The room was empty and the walls were bare.  The only distinctive features in the space were three doors at the opposite side.  The Outsourcer swore and turned to storm out but his office door no longer led into a room of half-walled cubicles.  There was a stubby, dead-end hallway there instead.

“Hey!  Assholes!” the Outsourcer shouted.  When an attendant did not appear at his summons he turned toward the three doors and walked to the one on the left.

He took a deep breath and opened it.

The attention of more than thirty Chinese Outsourcer stand-ins flashed toward him, their faces fierce, eyes flared. 

“You peckers better get back to–”

They hissed and charged at the door.  The Outsourcer slammed it shut and raced to the door on the right.  Behind it, poised and ready to pounce, were fifty of the Outsourcer stand-ins from India.

They surged forward, screaming.

The Outsourcer staggered back, groped for the handle of the middle door, and fled inside.  An empty, extremely long hallway lay before him.  The Outsourcer ran down it as fast as his stubby legs would carry him.

He risked a glance back, positive that a mob would be right behind him, but the corridor was empty.  There wasn’t even a door.  He continued running.  At some point he became aware of a thundering, chortling sound which grew louder the further he ran.

The end of the hallway was still an agonizingly long way off, but that didn’t prevent the Outsourcer’s bowel from giving way a little bit when the furious greed-creature rushed around the corner, howling with rage.

Chapter 172

6.u.

“Let’s try something different this time,” said Commander Credit.  How about we all go on the offensive?  Not just me.”

His comment was met with looks of bitter assent and the Union fanned out into practiced positioning, ready to engage preplanned maneuvers. 

Franklin Buck had to fake it.

Commander Credit pulled open the panel and Corporate Man lunged through the opening.  But there was no one behind the wall.  Business Woman and Senior Executive spun into defensive postures, facing empty hallways, expecting panels to shift and Outsourcer proxies to pour in.

“I don’t get it,” said Commander Credit.  According to this reading, we’re right on top of him.”

There was a subtle shift in the stance of each Union member.  Their attention turned to the ground beneath Commander Credit’s feet.

No one breathed.

They shifted, ninja-like and in unison, positioning themselves around Commander Credit.  Corporate Man and Business Woman leaned down and carefully felt for a trap door; a secret panel.

Senior Executive and Fair Wage arranged themselves behind Business Woman.  Supply and Demand acted as backup for Corporate Man.  Franklin Buck instinctively took up the covering position for Commander Credit in case the attack came there and felt proud of himself for doing so.

Corporate Man found a seam in the industrial carpeting and mouthed a countdown to Business Woman.  On three he tore the carpeting away and Business Woman lurched forward, fists cocked.

But there was only sub-floor and glue remnants beneath the carpet.

“Jesus you guys,” said Franklin Buck.  “Made my ass all clenchy with that–”

The ceiling panel above Commander Credit shattered and The Outsourcer dropped onto the shoulder of the cybernetic arm, hammering with fists and feet.  He snatched the greed-gun, leapt onto Senior Executive, delivering a kick to Business Woman on the way.  He chopped Senior Executive on the neck while thrusting a foot into Corporate Man’s chest, then dove onto Fair Wage, smacking both Supply and Demand while in mid air.

The Outsourcer wrapped his legs around Fair Wage’s throat and shouted, “Don’t move or I’ll snap his neck.”

The Union froze.

Cautiously, The Outsourcer examined the greed-gun, tightening his choke hold when Fair Wage tried to move.  Then he sniffed the air.  His eyes pinched with a sudden realization and he snuffled the greed-gun, an enthusiastic chortle escaping his throat.

“I know what this is,” he said in an oily voice. 

Fair Wage groped at the legs wrapped around his neck.  The Outsourcers nonchalantly reached down and flicked Fair Wage’s nose.

“I know what’s in here,” he said and slammed his fist into the toy gun.

Corporate Man and Business Woman surged forward but The Outsourcer tightened his leg-grip and hissed, “Back!  Back!”

The small, runty man fished the greed chunks out of the ruined toy gun and held them like a fistful of dirty dollars.

“I wondered what happened to him,” said The Outsourcer, jostling the pieces as if estimating their weight.  “Do any of you truly comprehend what it is that you’ve brought here?”

The Outsourcer unclamped his legs and yanked on Fair Wage’s hair.  The old man screamed but his call was silenced.  The Outsourcer forced the remnants of The Greed into Fair Wage’s mouth.

It was like cookie dough mixed with hair and mashed up spaghetti squash.  It tasted like filthy pinched pennies and the greasy collar sweat of unscrupulous financiers.  It stank of exploitation and cow manure.

A dozen cubicle walls flew open and a score of Outsourcer stand-ins rushed into the corridor slapping and hissing.  The ensuing struggle between the Union and the Outsourcers was violent and brief.  This was not because one side decisively triumphed over the other, it was because the fight was merely a diversion set up to grant the actual Outsourcer his escape.  The altercation was cut short when a near seismic gurgling noise erupted somewhere deep within the body of Fair Wage.

Chapter 171

6.t.

His face felt like rising bread dough and his nose pulsed with an agonizing pain.  He knew he’d get those raccoon-eye bruises from this.  And he knew how pathetic he’d look.  Some people could pull off that battered, I’m-a-bad-ass, you-should-see-the-other-guy look, but he wasn’t one of them.  It would be awhile before he could score chicks again.

That freak.  That credit card freak had known he was there.  Tracking him somehow.  The Outsourcer tried to review the sequence of events, but his puffy, marshmallow consciousness could only recall starbursts of pain.

“This way.  Down this way,” a familiar voice came from someone. The Outsourcer peered through a seam in the cubicle paneling.  The Union, and that irritating credit card guy, were striding up the hallway on the other side of the wall.  Coming right toward him.  There was some sort of gun in the credit guy’s hand.  A yellow light on the gun blinked repeated.  As they came closer a red light ignited accusingly.

The Outsourcer’s mood flared, matching the fiery red of that damnable flashing light. 

They were tracking him. 

The bastards.

That was cheating!

Chapter 170

6.s.

“Down this way.  Hurry!” Commander Credit said, holding the greed-gun apparatus out in front of him.  He and the rest of the Union rounded a corner and were halfway down the hall when the Commander stopped.  He swiveled to his left.

“Look!  Down there,” said Franklin Buck, pointing to the end of the hall and the small, runty man who stood there.

“After him,” Corporate Man shouted, but Commander Credit held his hand out and stopped him.  Then he yanked a panel off the wall nearest him.  A small, runty man with a thin moustache was standing on the other side.  He hissed and three similar runty men with, more or less, similar moustaches stood behind him and echoed the hiss.  They bolted like frightened deer, scattering down a dimly lit hallway, banking into separate side corridors.

The Union rushed after them.

“Should we split up and take them?” Senior asked.

“No,” said Corporate Man.  “Keep us on the real one Commander.”

Around the next corner they saw The Outsourcer disappear into a ventilation duct. A group of maintenance workers moved a section of cubicle paneling across the corridor, blocking the way.  Simultaneously, two sections were pulled away and secured in different positions creating new passages going in opposite directions.

“Which way?” shouted Corporate Man. 

Commander Credit stopped to consult the greed-gun.

“Neither,” he said.  Then he strode up to a section of wall and tried to yank it free.  It didn’t budge, so he set about dismantling it with tools from his cybernetic arm.  Senior Executive approached the remaining maintenance workers and began questioning them.

“Hurry.  Hurry,” said Franklin Buck.

“You want to do this, Dollar Boy?” Commander Credit said as he popped the section of wall free.  A hand slapped him across the face.  A dozen runty men hissed and then bolted away, bounding down the newly opened corridor.

 “Little shits,” Commander Credit yelled, charging after them.

The rest of the Union poured into this new section of darkened passageways.  The scurrying, runty-men disappeared behind vents, panels, and other trap doors embedded in the pseudo walls.

The Union continued the chase and soon arrived at a junction of five passages.  Runty men stood at the far end of each hallway.  Middle finger raised.

Carpeted panels swung in and out from various positions along each corridor, concealing each of the five Outsourcer men.

“They just flipped us off,” said Franklin Buck.

Commander Credit checked the greed-gun.  His face pinched and he tapped the side of the apparatus.  Then her turned around and said, “Back this way.”

More panels swung in and out of the walls and runty men crisscrossed the corridor space, waving obscene gestures, before disappearing out of sight again.

Commander Credit slumped against a wall and shook his head.

“I don’t get it,” he said.  “My readings must be off.  The Outsourcer isn’t showing up anywhere.  I don’t know what to–”

But he didn’t finish.  Instead he thrust all his weight into the wall paneling behind him.  It gave way, slamming into the empty space beyond, landing on something small and hard.

There was a low grunt, followed by a yowling howl.  Commander Credit lifted up the section of wall.  A dazed runty man lie beneath it.  Commander Credit grabbed The Outsourcer by the collar and yanked him to his feet.  Atthe same time the Commander’s snapped his torso forward, his head delivering a nose crushing butt.

The Outsourcer fell to the floor, spurts of blood geysering from his damaged nasal cavities.  The walls around the bleeding man opened up and a troupe of runty men bounced into the corridor.  Two of them swept up The Outsourcer while the rest flung themselves at Commander Credit. 

The first couple of attackers suffered a great deal under the ferocity of the Commander’s defenses, but soon their numbers drove him backward, through the opening in the wall, and into the hallway where the rest of the Union still waited.

The runty men slid the caved in panel back into place and the only sound the Union could hear through the restored wall was that of scuffling feet and half-hearted expletives delivered through a collapsed nasal structure.

“Well, open it back up,” said Business Woman.

“Won’t help,” said Commander Credit. He held up the greed-gun.  Indicator lights were in the green again.  “They’ll have already reconfigured the corridor and The Outsourcer won’t even be in that direction.”

Chapter 168

6.q.

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?”

Chapter 167

6.p.

The small, runty man fumed.  There would be firings.  Oh yes.  Someone wasn’t doing their job properly.  If someone had been keeping up with their assigned tasks then the Union would be in a mess of trouble at the southern end of the building instead of over here, standing on the other side of a cubicle wall from his position.  And what were they doing?  Just standing there with their mouths hanging open for all he could tell.  What’s with that?  Were they trying to piss him off?  Looking all stupid, as if to say “duh… we know where you are,” or something like that?

He fingered his pencil-thin moustache.  He’d have to take care of this himself.  Restaff the entire floor.  Move the operation overseas and find cheaper labor there.  But first, the Union.  Yes, he’d handle them himself.  In fact, he could do with some good, old fashioned work.  He still hadn’t blown off all that steam from his airport encounter yet.

The Outsourcer slinked down the corridor and disappeared into a small panel in the wall, and sulked like a hungry eel waiting in a craggy rock for oblivious fish.

Chapter 156

6.e.

The small, runty man hovered at the crack between the cubicle wall, his fist clenched and shaking.

“Go in!” he thought and he thought it with exclamation.  Why were they hesitating?  Isn’t this what one of them had asked for?  So, here it was and what were they doing?  Standing around thinking about it?

Just go in!

Finally, Corporate Man pushed the door open and peered inside.  He announced that it did appear to be a gym facility.

Of course it’s a gym facility!  That’s what the sign above the door states, doesn’t it?

Reluctantly, the Union entered the room designated Fitness Center and the runty man chortled to himself.

We are now open for business.