[b]Two miles east of the Safe Zone,
Unnamed jungle,
Brahma[/b]

The shuttle moved sleekly above the jungle, low enough to disturb the canopies of the tall trees yet high enough to avoid the reach of the megafauna within. The shuttle was unimpressive, a cheap SailCare bought for hauling employee's in and out of the safezone. As such, it's colour was a dull silver, it's turbines made a large noise when landing and the seats within were peeling leather. The window near the cockpit was rolled down and classical rock music blasted from inside it. The pilot's sunburnt arm hung lazily outside occasionally brushing off a taller piece of foliage. It was a journey the pilot made several times a day and as such, he had become quite lax on the strict safety regulations imposed on him. The pilot glanced down at the layer of jungle below him and caught a glimpse of a small, furry face glancing up at the shuttle from the canopy. He nodded his head in greeting and to his surprise, the head nodded back. The pilot chuckled. He had lived on Brahma his whole life yet the natives never failed to amuse him. The sun was just dipping under the horizon and that meant hunting for the Batmen was just beginning.

As he approached his destination, the signs of deforestation became more apparent. He could see piles of tree trunks, neatly stacked and de-branched. Tree stumps littered the ground and the rich undergrowth For some unknown reason, Joseph McKay had ordered that the logging of the alien jungle begin a mile into the thicket. It presumed by many rational people that the wood that was required was just deeper into the jungle and the jungle before that was just foliage. But conspiracy theories ranging from aliens to secret nuclear weaponry were already circulating. The ship circled a few times and then settled closer to the ground. Small legs slowly extended from the undercarriage and rested the ground. A door opened from the back and a group of workers slowly began milling around, awaiting further orders. The men were all shirtless and slick with sweat. They wore trousers and large boots that were smeared with dirt and tree resin. From one hand, they clutched electric blue chainsaws with the Timbeross logo stamped on the side. All held the same haggard, tired look on their faces. Behind them, a small group of Batmen were huddled in a small group. Chains rattled from their limbs and a few were propped up by their companions, exhausted. They wore no clothing and their dignity was out for all to see. Their fur was patchy and their ears were tagged, a cruel reminder of their purpose on the job. Slave labour was one of Timbeross's biggest and worst kept secrets. Despite aggresivly denying the claims of slavery publicly many times, slavery was simply cheaper than hiring employees. The Batmen were kidnapped from the slums or the jungles and told to work or die. Not everyone in the company was comfortable with this but it was simply how things worked.

The final and smallest group were the mercenaries. They were all dressed in full military gear and clutched advanced weaponry. Their presence deterred raids from tribes of Batmen but rarely stopped attacks from the megafauna. They formed a semi-circle around the other groups and watched the treeline, their fingers on the triggers. The foreman stepped forward and began a role call. 'Leary?' he shouted. 'Here' replied a tired looking Irishman. 'Fredrikson?' he called, ticking Leary's name from his clipboard. 'Here' responded a tall Scandanavian. This continued on for five minutes as each and every man on site was accounted for. The batmen slaves were looked over, of course. Their lives were not important. When the foreman was content, he whistled and hustled the workmen into the back of the shuttle. He gave a nod to the pilot who gave a small salute in reply. Leary hung back with Fredrikson and both men were the last workmen on the shuttle. The two had gotten to know each other over work and now met regularly after work to drink and womanise. The inside of the shuttle was simple. A long row of seats lined each wall and the cockpit could be seen near the front. The seats were leather and were peeled after years of misuse and bored workmen. The air conditioning was on full blast above every seat and most men relished the ride home because of it. The two lads took a seat opposite of each other and clipped their seatbelts. The electric chainsaws were thrown carelessly in overhead lockers.

'Thank fuck' murmured Leary, his eyes closed in bliss. He could feel the heat of the outside ebb away as the cold air rushed onto his chest. He hadn't sat down since the ride to work earlier that morning. 'Hear that, brother' answered Fredrikson, stretching his long legs across the aisle and putting his hands behind his head. 'Few more months of this and I can go to college'. Many young men joined Timbeross for one year contracts in order to afford higher education and Fredrikson had jumped on the opportunity of high pay, even if it meant risking his life everyday in the jungle. Leary was older and had dedicated his life to working in Timbeross. He was often ostracised by the other men for his strong accent and the strong smell of alcohol that seemed to escape from ever pore. The next group on the shuttle were the Batmen, who were allowed to sit near the workmen. A familiar grey Batmen shuffled down next to Fredrikson, it's chains rattling in the process. 'Good evening, gents' it said in a small voice. Both men nodded at the Batman in greeting. The old grey alien, with his patchy fur and skinny frame, looked like he should of been retired. Over the past few months, the men had gotten to know the slave quite well and to their surprise, he was quite intelligent and spoke English better than either of them. He was apparently a teacher who taught young Batmen to speak English and get on in an overly-human society before being enslaved some years earlier. A red Batwoman took her seat next to Leary and her head lolled, immediately asleep. Pliops gave a sigh. 'That poor girl. I saw them beating her earlier, you know. Animals' he said the last word with a hint of spite and glare down the aisle at the mercenaries. Fredrikson's eyes met Learys and they both knew it was better to not get involved.

The last of the mercenaries made their seats at the end of the row, near the door. A few forced the enslaved Batmen to stand so they could be seated and their captain gave a blind eye at the abuse hurled at the slaves. The door shut slowly with an audible hiss and an announcement came over the comms. 'All right, lads. We're heading home' crackled the pilots voice. A collective cheer came from the workmen, all salivating at the thought of a strong brew or their wives waiting within the safe zone. The foreman stood at the front, clutching a handrail and joking with the workmen. A small, plastic window was embedded in the wall behind Leary's head and he craned his neck to see the area he had just been working in. The area they were cutting was getting bigger by the day yet it seemed that no one had picked up the neatly cut logs of alien wood yet. It all just lay in piles, some still there from months before. 'It's a fucking wonder when they'll pick them logs up' he said to no one in particular. 'I myself have wondered that. Perhaps 
Timbeross is awaiting larger shuttles to take them to the mills? From what I understand, what we're doing here is just a small part of the logging campaign. Most of the wood is from Earth, grown inside the safezone. Perhaps we're just small part of it and lower priority?' Pliops pipped up, his large ears twitching. 'Aye. Maybe' answered Leary, not really sure. But then again, it wasn't his job to take the logs back to the safezone. It was just his job to chop the alien trees and de-branch them.

The red Batwoman's head lolled onto his shoulder and he thought about pushing her off. [i]She's had enough pushing today.[/i] Fredrikson was already asleep and Leary thought about dropping off too. But he couldn't. When he slept, all he heard was cries of anger and chainsaws.

[b]The Timbeross Building,
Dunnowhichcityyet City[/b]

Joseph McKay stared at himself in the mirror. 'Jesus Christ' he gasped, running his hands through his hair. 'I'm so fucking good looking!' His secretary grunted in agreement as she thumbed through a glossy magazine. Arrogant, pumped with botox and an ego that could rival the entire Encyclopedia Britannica set, she actually thought he was one of the worst humans in existence. However, he paid well for pretty and smart secretaries, so she didn't mind his constant sexual advances on her and constant gasps when looking at himself in the mirror. Perhaps once Mr. McKay had been a good looking and kind man but three years of brutal 'work' and flukey business successes had seen him turn from the timid, young CEO's son to the dickhead he was today. 'Speaking of good lookin', what's cookin?' he gave a cheesy smile as he spun around to his secretary. He walked up to her desk flamboyantly and planted both hands onto the desk. The secretary glanced up at him and then at her computer. 'Shareholders want to see you at eight, tomorrow Chief Toonak is coming at noon' she answered in her usual monotone voice. 

The CEO of Timbeross Corporation went quiet a moment, a mock pout on his face. The meetings did not 'Where does it say on that schedule when our date is?' he grinned cheekily at his secretary. The secretary gave a fake chuckle but didn't look up from her magazine. Joseph looked disappointed for a moment but then turned around. 'I'll be in my office. Make sure no one disturbs me, please' he said loudly. The secretary didn't bother asking why. She already knew. The CEO's office was soundproof and fitted with a large TV on one wall. A sexually frustrated Joseph had a large collection of lesbian pornography hidden in his desk and would often watch it when things were quiet. In her own desk, she kept a taser for fear that one day he would ask her to join him. The door closed and locked behind the CEO. 

Several moments passed and the secretary grew bored of her magazine, so she dropped it onto her desk. She gazed around the room and smiled slightly. Despite the fact her boss was a pig, she rather enjoyed her job. She was on the 28th floor of the Timbeross Building. To the right of her desk, she had a view of the city skyline, which was slowing down now as evening approached. The window ran from her right all along, completely replacing the wall to a large view. To the left of her desk, a short walk would see you facing a large mirror that largely replaced the wall. The beautiful view was reflected onto the mirror. Behind her, a large wall separated her from the CEO's office. It was all so pristine and clean!

A phone rang to her right and she instinctively grabbed it without checking caller ID. 'Hello, secretary Clara here of the CEO, how can I help you?' she asked, repeating the phrase etched into her mind. Her voice echoed down the hall. 'Er, 'allo, Clara. Can you pass a message on to the, er, CEO for me?' answered a rough sounding voice on the other end. 'Yes, I can. Who is this?' she grabbed a pen and a pad of paper to begin writing on while the phone balanced on her shoulder. 'John Clement. I'm working out in the jungle. We have a bit of a problem'. Clara the secretary's eyes opened in surprise as John described his 'problem' over the phone. She wrote it down anyway while silently noting to pass it on to Joseph when he was in a better mood. 'Thank you, John. I'll make sure he gets it'. Her hands shook slightly as she put the phone back in it's cradle. She looked down at the note, at her perfect handwriting. Clara bit her lip.

She would let Joseph finish off in his office before giving him this information. His reaction might be different if he was in a better mood.