Corp-rats: The Fat Cats of the Corporate Tower

Welcome to the top, sir. At least, you like to think you’re at the top, sitting on your high-rise throne made of corporate espionage, insider trading, and other people’s blood. You’re the product of capitalism gone viral, the ultimate parasite, feeding off of the common folk, while you sip overpriced cocktails in some glass executive suite.

Who are you? Maybe you’re the sleek, soulless exec with a boardroom kill-count higher than your actual body count. Or maybe you’re a low-level grinder, clawing your way up the corporate ladder, stepping on anyone’s fingers to keep from slipping back down into the masses. Nepotism? That's just another word for “family business,” and baby, business is good. But don’t let that million dollar suit fool anyone - behind the polished facade corporate jargon, and shining glass tower lies a capitalistic vampire, desperate to drain. And if that means ruining a few lives along the way? Well, that’s just the cost of doing business.

What drives you? Dollar signs — the backbone of the corporate world. The boardroom is your battlefield, and you’ve got the drive to come out on top. Every deal is a game, every meeting a chess match, and you always plan ten moves ahead. Of course, there’s always a bigger shark swimming in the corporate waters, but you’re ready to play them for all they’re worth—or at least stab them in the back before they stab you.

But here’s the thing, buddy— while you’re sitting pretty in your silver tower, the world outside is burning. America’s a wasteland, the cities are corporate fiefdoms, and the little people? They’re just ants under your boot. But, hey, that’s not your problem. As long as the cash keeps rolling in, who gives a damn if the world’s gone to hell? But don’t get too comfortable - those folks in the boardroom next door, they’ve got an order to bring in your head.

If you’re a corp-rat in the cutthroat world of the 22nd century, that means one thing: you’ve already won.