Free Hostile Takeover by Patrick E. McLean

Sure, it was the black art of organizational command and control, but it was still art.
    Topper knew that this work of art would make him very rich. That should have made him happy. At first, he pretended it did. He was proud of his friend. Edwin was so very brilliant. How many other men in the world were capable of such work? Ten? One hundred?
    But as the evening wore on Topper had time to think, and worse, to feel. As he lay awake in his large bed, listening to the winter wind claw at the window panes, he remembered being a young boy, all alone, crying in the snow. He couldn't remember where he was, or why he was crying, but did it matter? His childhood had come with such an inheritance of sorrow there was no point to an inventory. There was more than enough to go around.
    It was this cold, lonely feeling that lay beneath all of his debauchery. It was this feeling that drove his madness. Is the Fool happier than other men? Or he does he believe that all life is sorrow and it's best to get your yuks in when you can? For Topper, the yuks weren't enough anymore.
    He'd spent his whole life fighting with the world. Fighting with anyone around him just because they were there. But a funny thing had happened. For the first time in his life, Topper had status. He had friends. Some of the people at Omdemnity actually liked him. He had a taste of something he had never had before in his entire life—a family.
    Edwin's scheme was fine. Sure, stick it to the man. Stick it to your clients. Stick it to the other guy. These sure and savage principles were the bedrock of Topper's life. But to do it to your own people? Your—his brain hiccupped at the word—family? That was wrong. Had to be wrong. Evil, in fact, and not the cool, fun, sexy kind.
    On the far side of his bedroom, the bathroom door opened. The expensive prostitute Topper had ordered in when he felt like celebrating stepped out onto the luxurious rug. Fresh from the shower, her hair still damp, she let the robe fall to the floor and asked, "Are you ready for me?"
    Topper was shocked to hear himself say, "No."
    The young, beautiful girl from Eastern Europe blinked rapidly. She couldn't quite understand. At 22, experienced and in the prime of her briefly flowering beauty, she was not accustomed to being refused. "You do not want for me to love you?" she asked, her accent growing thicker with her confusion.
    "Nobody loves me. Go home."
    And for the first time in many years, Topper cried like a child, all alone in the snow.

    When Topper opened his eyes, Stevie was shaking him awake.
    "Okay, okay, knock it off," said Topper.
    "You've gotta get up."
    "Wherzza fire?"
    "You're needed at the office."
    "What? What the hell time is it?"
    "4:30 in the morning."
    "Oh, no. Somebody's conning you, Stevie. There's no such thing as 4:30 in the morning. There's only a 4:30 in the afternoon," Topper said, rolling over and covering his head with a pillow.
    "If I don't get you to work, they're gonna fire me."
    "What? That's ridiculous!"
    "They'll just send those guys in suits and get you anyway. Look, Mr. Windsor asked for you. You've gotta come."
    "Okay, okay. I'm getting up. But somebody's getting a piece of my mind. Oh, and Stevie?"
    "Yes, sir?"
    "You are ugly in the morning," said Topper.
    Despite the risk of getting fined, Stevie smiled.

    Topper slept for most of the car ride in. Riding the elevator up to the top floor of Omdemnity Building One, he could hear the commotion even before the doors opened. It was the buzz of an office full of excited people in full swing. At 5 AM. What the hell was going on?
    When the doors opened, he saw two Adjustors in full sprint, running past the elevators and pushing a flat-screen display on a wheeled cart. More people followed. No one took notice of Topper.
    All the commotion was headed towards Edwin's office. As Topper rounded the corner, he could see that one end of Edwin's office was packed with Omdemnity employees. Here and there, Adjustors moved