Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (39 page)

She winked at him.  “At least you’d
be able to
attend
now.  That’s something, at least.”

Cynic shook his head at Holly. 
“Oh, I didn’t mean me.  I’m not gay.”

Holly looked around the room.  “And
you think I
AM!?!
“  She took a calming breath.  “Fine.  We’ll be
diplomatic.”  Her voice got louder.  “Who here wants to see Cynic experience
some male bonding at Wyatt’s bachelor party?”

Tyrant stared down at his captive
in disbelief.  “I do not understand you at times, Rayn.  I think your cell is
driving you mad.”

Wyatt started banging his forehead
against the table.  “It’s
not my…”

Harlot broke out laughing again,
and reached out to stroke the back of his head in support.  The poor man hadn’t
been here long enough to really understand how meetings worked here.

Doctor Heterodox’s voice echoed
through the room, cutting him off.  “
MY
sweetened
idol of
gingered
bread has vanished into the ether!  A pox on its cruel abductor!  Which one of
you baneful fiends has committed this perfidy?”  He made fists and pulled his
cloak around himself.  “By the unholy sons of Humidil;
WORLDS SHALL PAY FOR
THIS TREACHERY!!!”

Everyone ignored him.

“Oh look.” Wyatt pointed at a line
on the agenda.  “Mortician has some news on his efforts to create a sentient
virus species.  Why don’t we see what he has to say about this potentially
EARTHSHATTERING discovery!?!”  He looked around the table, hopeful to see
someone actually paying attention, but was disappointed.

Cynic sighed.  “Jesus, would you
shut up already, wonderboy?  We’re
TRYING
to plan YOUR fucking party,
here.  The LEAST you can do is shut up for five seconds so we can work!  GOD! 
You’re so annoying!  What the fuck does she SEE in you!?!” 

Wyatt rolled his eyes and turned to
Harlot.  “You wanna just get out of here?  They can call us when they’re ready
to be serious.”

She giggled.  “And MISS this?  You
heard Cynic, this is important stuff.  Besides, he’s right.  This is YOUR bachelor
party, they’re planning.  Don’t you think you should be a part of it?  Or are
you really so uninvolved in our non-wedding?  You aliens think that Earth girls
are easy or something, just because you can control minds?”

He leaned closer to her to whisper
in her ear.  “I just have some
much
more important preparations I want
to be taking care of.”

Cynic rolled his eyes.  “I swear to
Christ, you people are taking this whole conversation terribly off-topic.  I
don’t know how we ever get anything done with the way you just keep babbling on
about such utter nonsense.”

Holly glared down at him.  “That’s
pretty easy since it never HAD a topic to begin with.  It was always just you
saying perverted and cruel things to me.”

He scoffed.  “I said you that you’d
make a good stripper?  How is that sick or perverted?  That’s
totally
an
empowering statement!  Jesus.  Maybe you SHOULD fuck Stacy, you obviously need
to release some tension, and get in touch with your own sexuality or…”

She had apparently heard enough and
launched herself at him.

Cynic reached a hand up to shield
himself as Holly punched at his face.  “Jesus, woman! 
FUCK
!  OW!  Yeah,
that’s the way to get me to stop thinking about you sexually; throw yourself on
top of me and wiggle!”

She grabbed him by the collar,
trying to simultaneously punch him in the face and shake Guilt Trip off as he
tried to stop her.

Stacy was on her feet again.  “What
did I JUST say!?!  HUH!?!  I’D be screwing HER, not the other way around! 
She’s
MY
reindeer!”

Librarian sighed and made a
notation on her legal pad.  “The twenty minutes which this workforce has spent
on this unproductive and inappropriate personal conversation has been recorded,
and will be subtracted from your pay.”  She put the cap back on her pen. 
“Additionally, the Legal Department announces that it will be launching an
investigation and possible disciplinary action against Mr. Steven ‘The Cynic’
O’Probrian, for his continued insensitive and sexist speech/actions.   I have
scheduled the first hearing on the matter for next Wednesday.  It will all be
in the memo I am sending out.”

Elsewhere in the room, Troubadour
was attempting to crush Poacher’s face with the casters of an office task
chair, Dysphoria continued crying, Tyrant was yelling at his prisoner and
accusing her of eating
his
cookie, and for unknown reasons, Gurrier and
Skullduggery were suddenly fighting.  Doug threw his chair at Hazard, and it
shattered to pieces against the larger man’s chest.

Marian sighed.  “I am making a notation
here and taking the cost of replacing one Anderson executive-style command
chair model number AA23, from your next Consortium of Chaos paycheck,
Skullduggery.”  She finished writing out the paperwork and slid a carbon copy
across the table at him.  “The Consortium has to
pay
for those you
know.  My department is forced to release funds to the Purchasing/Production Department,
so that those chairs can be ordered by the
dozen,
because our members
destroy too many.  Despite all of these efforts, we were still short three
chairs last month alone, and supplies are
already
running low this month
as well.  I am going to write a memo, and request that all villains please
refrain from using office furniture as weapons, and/or targets of their frustration
and/or rage from this point forward.  We are paying tens of thousands of
dollars a year in replacement costs for command chairs and conference tables
alone.  This is an unneeded expenditure at this juncture.”

Wyatt shook his head sadly at the
byplay and refocused on his news report.  He started talking to no one in
particular.  “What does it say about my life that I can attend a meeting that
ends with a woman dressed like Santa Claus, a reject from the Rat Pack,
Crocodile Dundee, Freud, a hobo, a trucker, a mad doctor from a 30’s monster
movie, a fish-man, a guy dressed like a villain from a Conan movie, a pirate,
Mary Poppins, a utility worker, a hippie, a pilgrim, a half-naked witch and The
Emperor from the
Star Wars
movies, all getting into a fight while discussing
the particulars of their planned orgy at my fake bachelor party, which I’m not
even invited to by the way, and how it relates to baked goods and task chairs, and
I don’t even blink?  Where did my life go wrong?”

Psycho-Delic put his feet on the
table.  “ALL you dudes need to totally chill-out, man.  Steve’s right, you’re
waaaaay too uptight.  Besides, this is like totally a
quiet
meeting.  You
should see us when we’re REALLY wound up, man.”

Vagrant turned the page of his
newspaper.  “Indeed.  There have been
far
more violent ‘discussions’ in the
past, particularly at false events.”

Vaudeville laughed.  “Remember the
party after Roach’s wake a couple years ago, when Kass and Jamie got into a
fight over
Moby Dick
, and Kass punched him, and so Jamie started
narrating that Kass and Princess
what’s-her-face
were singing a duet of
that song from
Annie
…”

Tyrant’s head whipped around.  “That
didn’t happen.”

The very much still
alive
Roach
nodded.  “
Now THAT was a fucking party! 
Best funeral I ever had.”

Jamie’s face took on a taunting
smile.  “Narrator laughed again and thought back on Kass’ wonderfully rich Heldentenor
voice.”

Tyrant slammed a fist down on the
table.  “
This event did NOT happen!  Your words are LIES!” 
His prisoner
tingled something, but Harlot had no idea whether it was in agreement, or not. 
“I am
NOT
a soprano!”

Vaudeville ignored him.  “Oh man,
when that song was done, it was
ON!
  And then everyone got in on the
act!  By the end of the day, HALF of us ended up in ICU!”  He put his head
back.  “HA!  Awesome!  Reminded me of the holidays I had in my childhoods, back
at one of homes, with one of my families!”

Tyrant was out of his chair and
pointed a gloved hand at Cory. 
“YOU DIE FIRST!  Your lies have sealed your
fate!”

Harlot ran over and tried to
separate the various combatants as the fights around the room continued to rage. 
“Stop it!  Stop it NOW!”  She directed them all back towards their seats. 
“Can’t you see?   Those cookies are
tearing us apart
!”

Wyatt blinked.  “
That,
however, is just such a crazy thing to say that I’m putting it in my notes and
saving it for later.”  He took the cap off his pen and started adding it to his
paper.  His voice took on his best impression of her as he read the line back
from the page.  “
The cookies are tearing us apart!”

Harlot tried desperately to break
it up.  “Come on, guys!  Can we please…”  Everyone ignored her.  “…We really
need to…”

Wyatt slammed a telekinetic gavel
again and again against the table top, his stern voice filling the room.  “
Quiet! 
All of you
!”  To Harlot’s surprise, most of the people in the room fall
silent.  “Harlot said for you all to shut your mouths, so you
will
, or
I’ll see to it
personally
that you’ll
all
be working with Enmity
in the kitchen.”    Everyone IMMEDIATELY quieted down and returned to their
seats.  He nodded.  “Better.  From now on, if she’s talking, you will all be
excellent
listeners.”  He gestured at her.  “Now then, what were you saying, Angel?”

Harlot simply stared at him in
shock.  Wow.

Vaudeville shuffled a deck of
playing cards so that they cascaded from one hand to the other.  “Apologies,
Mr. Ferral.  We never should have tried to put Baby in a corner like that.”

Cynic scowled.  “Now I remember why
I didn’t invite him to his bachelor party.  It’s
disgusting
the way he’s
always drooling all over her.  He’s like a stalker or something.”  He pointed
at Harlot.  “She’s
ours!
  First the fucking heroes try to put us all in
jail, now they’re trying to
steal our women!
”  He crossed his arms over
his chest.  “Go find a heroine, asshole!  Leave the villainesses to the
villains!”  He slouched down in his chair.  “You just can’t ever trust ‘The
Man,’ man, ESPECIALLY not when they’re sitting on THAT side of the table.”

Poacher slammed a fist against the
table again.  “
I still want another cookie!”

There shouts as various people
agreed with that idea.

The Commodore’s computer game finally
ended.  “Calm yourselves!  I will now cut off this continuing commotion.”  He
pointed at Poacher and Cynic, his words taking on the tone of an angry father
taking his wayward sons to task for their misbehavior.  “Need I
constantly
communicate my concerns with your conduct?  Show constraint and CORRECT
yourselves, or you’ll confront the consequences.”  He nodded sharply and looked
around the table at the rest of his companions.  “Complaining about your cut of
the cookies does little to correct our current considerations.  Cease your
caviling, or I’ll curb confections from the command center completely.  And
critiques on the costumes and chastity of…”

Wyatt returned to his seat and started
talking to himself again, helpfully offering suggestions on “C” words for the
Commodore. ““Colleens”?  “Cowgirls”?

The Commodore continued his
thought  “…your coworkers, is crass and chauvinistic.  It will certainly not be
countenanced while I am close at hand.”

Wyatt nodded in appreciation.  “Coworkers. 
Nice save, Sir.  Didn’t see that one
coming
.”

“I’m cheered to cognize your
commendation.”

Harlot decided to jump on the
opportunity to get the meeting back on track.  “Okay folks, I believe that the
Accounting Department has prepared a presentation for us?”

“Concerning how much our company
cadged from the counting houses?”

Marian stood, adjusted her glasses,
and flipped back several pages on her notepad.  “Yes.  I have the totals of our
crime spree yesterday.  We were able to steal fifty-two million, five-hundred
and seven thousand, forty-two dollars and sixteen cents.  Thirty-one banks were
successfully robbed, as well as a gold depository, several lab technicians at a
blood bank and an Anime store.  However, you will be receiving nothing from
this particular criminal endeavor, as the funds are destined to be used
elsewhere.”  She tossed a sheet of paper at Wyatt and another sheet at
Taxidermist.  “If you gentlemen would please sign these.”  They did as she
asked and she returned the paperwork to the file and carefully slid it into her
briefcase.  “The Legal and Accounting Departments would like to announce a
field trip tomorrow.  The signup sheet is already posted out in the hall.  We
look forward to seeing you there.”

Harlot squinted in confusion.  What
the hell was that about? 

She raised her hand, trying to
sound innocent.  “One question; if Wyatt’s getting a bachelor party, shouldn’t
I get a bachelorette party and bridal shower?  Who’s planning that?”

The room exploded in more angry
shouts, threats and unsolicited ideas.  Wyatt turned to glare at her for
starting the insanity up again.  She put her arm around him and laughed
hysterically.   He put his head down on the table, and at first, she thought
that the place had finally broken him and that he was sobbing.  But no.  Instead,
he was laughing too.  He put his head back, his face awash with mirth.  “You
people are so fucking
crazy!
”  He kissed the top of her head.  “God, I
LOVE
this place!”

A
cow saw an ox hard at work harnessed to a plow, and tormented him about his
unhappy life of forced labor.  Shortly afterwards, the owner released the ox
from his yoke, but bound the cow with chains and led him away to be slain.  The
ox saw what was being done, and said with a smile to the cow:  "For this
you were allowed to live in idleness, because you were soon to be
sacrificed."  Moral of the story?  He who laughs last, laughs best.

Oswald C. Damico AKA “OCD” sat in
the audience of the annual meeting of the Freedom Squad board, and glared at
his bosses as they sat on the stage.  He was really beginning to dislike those
people.  For one thing, their behavior and histories meant that they were no
doubt
hotbeds of all kinds of germs, diseases and bacteria, both terrestrial and
space borne.  In fact, this whole
room
was practically SWIMMING with
pathogens.  They covered every surface; a shifting veneer of toxic death,
coating every surface.  Billions and billions of microscopic pestilent microbes
invading his lungs and pores…sucking the life from his body…spreading their
poisons, and finally doing the job that no villain had yet done; finally
killing him.  He quickly removed a bottle of anti-bacterial liquid from his
pocket and began applying it
YET AGAIN
to his hands and arms in a
CLOCKWISE
motion, and tried not to breathe on anything but the odd numbered minutes. 
It was his only option.  His only chance of
survival…
So dirty…so dirty…

The Architect stood up from the
long table and addressed the assembly of heroes and reporters from his place on
the stage.  Howard was just
SUCH
a pompous jackass at times.  “I would
like to begin this annual meeting of the Freedom Squad: Liberty Board.  The
chair recognizes that all directors are present, and the secretary is keeping
the record.”  He gestured to the men sitting at the other spaces around the
table.  Dauntless, Baller and Templar nodded.  Badger’s space was obviously
empty…his body rotting somewhere…microbes spewing into the air and poisoning
the ground water and messing up Oz’s TV reception…The very thought made him
gasp terror…and it was 1:04!  FOUR WAS EVEN!  EVEN!  OH SHIT!  Now he’d
probably get cancer, or something would explode somewhere in punishment for his
carelessness! 
ODD!
  ONLY BREATHE IN ON ODD NUMBERED MINUTES WHEN IN THE
PRESENSE OF GERMS!  DAMMIT! 
One-two-three-four-five-One-two-three-four-five...

Architect sat back down, and
Dauntless banged his gavel to begin the meeting.  “The board will now hear new
business.”

In the back of the audience, Pugilist
stood and walked towards the microphone podium set up in front of the stage.  “Yeah,
I want to know what you people intend to do about the Consort…”

Suddenly, the doors to the Fortress
of Liberty conference room burst open, and a conservatively dressed blonde
woman strode in with all the confidence in the world.  She marched down the
aisle in old-fashioned Victorian button boots, and a tailored ankle length,
long-sleeve brown dress.  It was like a time warp, and someone from the turn of
the century had wandered in by mistake.  She reached the podium and simply
pushed Pugilist aside.  The man was too stunned to do anything and stumbled
back into one of the chairs.

She cleared her throat and adjusted
her glasses.  “Marian K. Willson, esquire.  New York Bar number: 03263827.  I
would like to address the Board.”  She pulled out a stack of papers from her
briefcase and placed them in front of her on the microphone stand.  “It has
come to my…”

Architect and several members of
the audience sprang to their feet.  Howard leaned over the board table angrily. 
“Guards!  Get that woman
out of here!
  She’s a member of the Consortium
of Chaos!”

Oz blinked.  Really?  He had certainly
never seen her before.  And she sure didn’t DRESS like a villainess.  Where was
the skin tight leather?  She looked so wholesome.  Were there…
Mormon
villainesses
now or something?

One-two-three-four-five-One-two-three-four-five…

Several people rushed towards her,
but for some reason, she looked incredibly unimpressed as they advanced on her. 
In the back of the room, the doors flew open again…and Fabricator and what
appeared to be half a dozen members of the Consortium of Chaos strolled in.

Wyatt leaned down to whisper
something to a pretty dark haired girl walking beside him down the aisle, and
Oz watched as she blushed.  Oz’s eyebrows rose.  It appeared that Honey Badger
had been right again, and Wyatt had
indeed
found something in the
Consortium that he wanted.  Wyatt continued smiling at the woman, and Oz winced
as he braced himself for what he knew was about to happen.  Uh-oh.  Wyatt was
here to ‘help’ that girl, and the rest of them would probably end up in graves
as a result.  This wasn’t going to be good.

The assembly ERUPTED in angry
shouts and a dozen people instantly ran towards them.  At the podium, the woman
cleared her throat into the microphone and everyone stopped to hear what she
had to say.  Strange.  People seemed to listen to this woman for some reason.  “I
am afraid that the Freedom Squad is a publically traded corporation, and Mr. Ferral
is a stockholder in that corporation.   This is your annual meeting.  He cannot
be removed unless he is causing a disturbance.  He must be allowed to protect
his investment, after all.”  She gestured to the cameras.  “Unless you would
like to explain for the record why you are illegally depriving him of his
rights?”

Howard’s eyes narrowed, but he was
apparently unwilling to push the issue in front of the media.  “Wyatt may
TECHNICALLY still own stock here, but the rest of you people most DEFINETELY
are
leaving!
  You can’t just…”

She cut him off by reaching down to
her stack of papers, and holding up an official looking document.  The other
villains did the same; each quickly produced an identical certificate and held
it in an outstretched arm, as if shielding themselves or perhaps taunting the
assembly with it.  “My clients and I took the liberty of each purchasing one
share of stock PRIOR to the notification day of this meeting.  This organization
is a sound financial investment and we look forward to the profits we will no
doubt make in the coming years.”  She adjusted her glasses again.  “Now then,
as I was saying, it has come to our attention that this Board is acting without
authority.  Mr. Ferral has not been notified of any company meeting and was not
given the opportunity to attend or vote on ANY of your recent decisions.  As
such, all motions passed were invalid and cannot be enforced unless Mr. Ferrall
ratifies them, which he wishes to do in the case of motion 337 of the August 23
^rd
meeting.”  She made a check mark on her page.  “Next….as I am sure you
gentlemen all know, your corporation has issued two kinds of stock; Class A or
‘Voting stock’ and Class B or ‘Non-voting stock.’  When you became board
members, you gentlemen traded in your non-voting stock for an equal number of
shares from the voting class.  Mr. Ferral did the same, as did his brother and
their parents.  When his parents were declared legally dead, their assets
passed intestate to Mr. Ferrall and his brother in equal shares.  When Mr.
Ferral’s brother died, his total assets passed to my client in his testate will. 
Thus, my client Mr. Ferral is now the
majority
Class A voting stock shareholder
of your organization.”

Fabricator grinned and stalked up
onto the stage.

Architect’s eyes narrowed.  “That
is NOT our policy and you KNOW it, Marian!  When a hero dies or leaves, his
stock is transferred back to the corporation and…”

She cut him off.  “There is no Buy
Out option or restrictions on alienation recorded on that stock.  While it may
be true that such a restriction has
since
been placed on holders of
Class A stock, as the Board is seeking to not allow outsiders onto the board to
influence company decisions, Mr. Ferral’s stock was issued BEFORE that
restriction was put into place.”  She opened up her legal code book.  “202(b): A
restriction on the transfer or registration of transfer of securities of a
corporation…may be imposed…by an agreement among any number of security holders…
NO
RESTRICTIONS so imposed shall be binding with respect to securities issued PRIOR
to the adoption of the restriction UNLESS THE HOLDERS OF THE SECURITIES ARE
PARTIES TO AN AGREEMENT OR VOTED IN FAVOR OF THE RESTRICTION
.
” 
She
closed the book.  “In other words gentlemen, the restrictions you instituted on
the stock in the meeting of August 23
^rd
, affects only YOUR stock
because he refuses his agreement to the scheme which was proposed.  As such,
the decision reached does not affect my client’s property in any way. 
Just
yours
.  Thus, he now controls the majority of Class A voting stock.”

Fabricator pulled out a chair at
the board table.  “Thank you, Marian.”  He looked at the other board members
and smiled.  “And thanks to YOU guys for keeping my chair warm for me.  My
parents and brother would be so happy you were watching out for me like this.” 
He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and began reading from it.  “Now
then, as majority shareholder at this annual meeting, I would like to call for
a vote on re-election of the board.  I think a
change
is in order, don’t
you?”

The other members flew from their
seats in anger.  Dauntless pointed a gloved finger in Wyatt’s face.  “This
OUTRAGEOUS behavior, Wyatt!  We won’t stand for this!”

Wyatt ignored him and kept reading
from his paper.  “I vote that the current board be discharged from all of their
duties to the corporation.  All in favor?”  He raised his own hand.  “Aye.”

Architect, Dauntless and Templar
immediately chorused “Nay.”

Baller looked at his companions and
grinned, then surprisingly put out his hand out in a “thumbs up” sign.  “Aye.” 
He stood up from the desk.  “Be seeing you, guys.  Been fun.  Consider me
retired
.” 
He glided from the stage and disappeared through a side door.

Oz could literally SEE Architect’s
mind racing for a solution to their problem and keep their positions on the
board.  “Wait…wait…Badger’s shares.  Yes.  Badger’s shares were passed to…”

The woman pulled out another sheet
of paper from her stack.  “Ah, yes.  Mr. Ratell’s shares had a similar
restriction on alienation as the shares you gentlemen hold, since he voted in
favor of the constraint.  However, he was authorized by the board to reallocate
those shares to his private corporation, Ratell Enterprises, and to his private
butler and assistant, Mr. Nigel St. Clair, due to the close relationship your
organization has with both devisees.  Upon his death, each received a portion of
Mr. Ratell’s shares in equal parts.  Ratell Enterprises is now owned by my
client, Mr. Edward ‘The Taxidermist’ Skinner as a result of his recent suit
against Mr. Ratell…”  she gestured to a man dressed in a leather apron in a
wheelchair and two casts on his legs.  “….and he is in attendance at this
meeting.”

The man took out a sheet of paper and
began reading from it robotically.  “I hearby issue to Mr. James Wyatt Ferral,
my proxy for voting my company’s shares at this board of directors meeting.”

Wyatt pulled out what appeared to
be a copy of a signed document and slid it down the table towards the other
man, and they looked it over.  He leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied
smirk on his face.  “I vote Mr. Skinner’s shares ‘Aye,’ as well.”

The woman continued.  “Mr. St.
Claire is ALSO my client…”  In the back of the room, Nigel the butler was
ushered through the doors, flanked by Poacher and Gurrier.  The man looked
terrified.  The woman turned to him.  “…Mr. St. Claire, what is your vote on
this matter, sir?”

The other man was silent.  Poacher
dropped one heavy hand onto Nigel’s shoulder, and Gurrier leaned over to
whisper something in his ear.  The poor butler swallowed audibly.  “I…I…I vote
‘Aye.’”

Poacher and Gurrier grinned and
hustled the man back to his seat.

Wyatt nodded.  “Excellent.  Looks
like the ‘Ayes’ have it then, and the motion passes.”  He turned to the board, well,
the EX-board now.  “If you gentlemen will please excuse us, we have a meeting
to run and we do not allow OUTSIDERS here; only stockholders.”

Dauntless shook his head sadly.  “This
hurts, Wyatt.  You’ve crossed a line here, son.  I expected better from you.”

He stormed from the room.  Templar
exchanged some heated words with Cynic which OCD did not understand and then
stalked out as well.

Architect’s eyes narrowed.  “I am
not going ANYWHERE, Wyatt.  You can’t get rid of me this easily.  I
BUILT
this company AND this team!”

Cynic stood up in the audience,
reading from a sheet of paper in his hands.  “Mr. Chairman?  May I speak?”

Wyatt nodded.  “The chair now
recognizes Mr. O’Probrian, a VALUED stockholder and friend to our company.”

Cynic strolled towards the
microphone, still reciting the text he found on his paper.  “Mr. Chairman; as a
stockholder I am upset over the co-mingling of corporate assets with Mr. Lemont’s
privately held business, ‘Lemont Industries.’  As a stockholder, I believe that
he is intruding on company business in violation of his fiduciary duties to
this corporation, and is costing us billions each year through his gross
negligence and violations of his duty of due care and good faith.  I am giving
the board notice of my intention to file a derivative action on behalf of the
corporation against the Board on this matter if this is not dealt with to my
satisfaction.”

Wyatt nodded and pulled out a
laptop computer.  “Uh-oh.  That sounds bad.  Well, the
LAST
thing we
would want is ANY form of discord in our corporate family.  The joint accounts
are in both Mr. Lamont’s name and our company name, and as the new CEO and CFO
of this corporation, I can control those assets.”  He typed something into the
laptop.  “It is my business judgment and the business judgment of the board of
directors, that we will use our power over company assets to
redistribute
the money in those accounts to the shareholders.”  He hit a button on the
keyboard.  “Which I have just done.  This will be an effort to make up for Mr.
Lamont’s REPEATED illegal activities, and reimburse our investors in the form
of a one-time lump sum pro rata dividend issued to each of them for any income
they may have lost as a result of Mr. Lamont’s actions.  This payment, which
will be supervised by Ms. Wilson, our new head of the Freedom Squad Legal
Department…”