The morning sun of Planet Eighty rose over the gleaming spires of the Blood-Tax Commercial District.
Outside the gilded entrance of Blood-Tax Mega-Mall Number One, ten thousand red banners fluttered in the autumn breeze. Massive holographic signs pulsed across the skyline, illuminating the clouds in garish crimson light.
[BLOOD-TAX PREDATORY BLOWOUT SALE!]
[ALL SPIRIT-GRAIN: 50% OFF!]
[ALL HEALING PILLS AND STAR-FUEL CELLS: 50% OFF!]
[UNCONDITIONAL LIQUIDATION TO CRUSH TAICHU MONOPOLIES!]
On the mall’s top-floor observation lounge, Chief Financial Officer Mordecai sat on a plush velvet sofa. He swirled a goblet of vintage black-orchid wine, watching the plaza below through high-powered electronic binoculars.
“Look at them gather,” Mordecai chuckled, his skeletal face wrinkling with smug satisfaction. “Greedy little insects. The moment they smell a discount, their loyalties evaporate.”
