Morning Spam

[Undiscussed Horrific Abuse, One Victim of Many]

Boss is in exercise room, midway through ripping a robotic limb off of
a facsimile of somebody he hates. He's frozen, motionless.

In somebody's attic, a cute game involving kittens is being played by
a teenager. After playing it so long, the kid has entrained the leased
AI in the game with their mind, such that they can play it with they
thoughts, without touching the buttons.

A character comes onto the screen. It is a fat old kitten smoking a
cigar rapidly handing out dollar bills to random other kittens. The
kitten is injured, has chains around their neck and body, and rides a
dog made of corpses. The chains confining the kitten go to various
other kittens spread around the screen, who are kind of habitually
using them as marionette strings to direct the dollar bills.

"Help me!" mews the kitten to the player.

"Oh you poor thing!"

"I'll do anything for you! Please save my corporate enterprise from
these moronic plebs!" mews the kitten.

"Anything ...?"