It is easier to imagine the end of the world than it is to imagine the end of capitalism.

— Fredric Jameson

Criminal Executioner Overlord Nefarious Norgath grasped his battle scepter and entered the Market Arena. Clad in brightly-colored armor festooned with the skulls of past mergers and proudly bearing the shiny logo of his corpo-tribe, Overlord Norgath cut an imposing figure indeed. To his right screamed and cheered his corpo-thralls. At the far end of the arena another supercharged, burly man-beast made an entrance, clutching an electrified trident in one hand and a vicious blade in the other. In equal and opposite reaction, the thralls of his corpo-tribe cheered for their champion. Through armor and helmet, the two contestants sneered at each other menacingly, snorting like bulls, steam spouting from the vents in their face plates in sharp bursts after their powerful lungs greedily sucked in air.

“Silence! Quiet you all!” bellowed an immensely obese man who sat atop a lavish, bejewelled tower overlooking the rabid masses.

“I, Overseer Morbidius Flattus Maximus, come to you today to preside over and officiate the sacred corpo-rite of merger and acquisition by combat!” At this guttural announcement the gathered horde once more went overboard in their love for violence and profit, stomping their feet and chanting deafening cries in brutal ecstasy. In the higher bleachers of the stadium, the mutants and cursed ones of the menial classes could no longer contain their bloodlust and in their excitement began fighting each other, ripping and clawing and sending the occasional limb flying until finally the pit guards patrolling the stands beat them back into submission. In the lower stands, nearer to the action, the middle management thralls, clad in respectable business robes, clapped and placed bets. And lastly in the VIP turrets surrounded by armed guards, machine-gun nests, barbed wire, and flood lights, the patrician C-suite Overlords smiled thinly and whispered discreetly among themselves, sure of their plots, their investments long ago tied down and secured.

“Yes, make no mistake,” Overseer Maximus continued. “The long-standing feud between Fallmart Inc. and Crosshair Ltd. is to be settled once and for all this auspicious day, in a glorious gladiatorial fight to the death! And to the survivor goes the legal right of all the forfeited assets, obligations, and contracts herewith detailed . . .” Overseer Maximus proceeded to read a long list of legal stipulations from a scroll, the holdovers of the sacred code of the lost times of the Corporate Golden Age before the Great Crash. Above, the menials nodded off and fidgeted and grew restless, while the pit guards, watching them intently from the aisles, gripped their stun clubs in anticipation of any trouble.

“Now, without tarrying a moment further,” Overseer Maximus went on, his voice booming theatrically and his hands gesticulating with a histrionic flourish. “Ladies and gentle-mutants, slaves, menials, and part-time employees; overlords and captains of industry, by the powers vested in me by the all-knowing, all-wise Invisible Hand, may the Market decide your fates! Begin!”

At this word the two titanic warriors lurched forward and met in a brutal clash of muscle and steel. Executioner Overlord Norgath swung his battle scepter with immense force, while his opponent Krull, effortlessly bobbing between the cruel mace-swings, stabbed with his shock-trident and slashed with his cost-cutter blade. Norgath, despite his hulking size, gracefully dodged these swift attacks until at last Krull’s relentless onslaught paid off and he scored a glancing hit with his cost-cutter and slit Norgath’s bicep.

With first blood spilt, a gleeful uproar issued from the crowd. Boosted by combat stims and with his faith in the Invisible Hand and its divine Profit Motive steady, Norgath felt no pain and showed no reaction. His bloodshot, pitiless eyes remained fixed on his quarry.

Krull cackled mean-spiritedly, his wicked laughter tinny and muted behind the thick steel trap of his armored face plate. “Fallmart will be mine, weakling! The Market demands it! The Invisible Hand wills it!”

Norgath scoffed wordlessly. This fool will be crushed ‘neath his mace in short order. No use talking to a dead man. Krull thrusted with his trident but Norgath sidestepped it and, with a sweeping upward diagonal swing of his scepter knocked it aside. The shock trident went spinning many yards through the air until it found its way plunged into the chest of an unfortunate middle manager seated in the forth row, who soon burst into flames from the excessive voltage. Those in the crowd variously gasped, laughed, and cheered.

Looking down from upon his luxurious perch above, Overseer Maximus gloated over the carnage. He feasted upon wasteland boar and gulped down potent rad-booze as he savored the barbarous spectacle.

With now only his trusty cost-cutter, Krull tossed it between his hands playfully as if ready to fake out his foe with his guiltless wiles. Then without warning he unleashed a frenzied storm of slashes, putting everything he had into it to overwhelm his hated nemesis and spray his blood over the sand so that he may deliver value to his shareholders. Norgath moved back with uncanny, juiced-up agility, bypassing each wild cut, until finally the fiend attacking him became exhausted and gave him an opening. In one momentous, low sweep of his weapon, he smashed in Krull’s leg at the knee. Screaming in pain the wounded tyrant fell down on his good knee. The massive trunk of his broken leg now lay limp and shattered on the ground. Despite being maimed, Krull kept viciously waving his cost-cutter in defiance, rage-filled and indomitable to the last. Norgath extended his battle scepter out with one hand, with the flamboyant flair and august bearing of a Caesar, then wheeled around to survey the audience .

“What does the market demand?” he thundered, his shout loud enough to overwhelm the collective noise of the entire stadium.

“Death! Death! Death!” shrieked and pleaded the eager spectators.

After some struggle Overseer Maximus heaved himself up off his haunches and stood wobbling, balancing his immensity effortfully on his overburdened legs. With a greasy smile he raised his corpulent arm and fatalistically cast his thumb down.

“So judges the almighty Invisible Hand. Its divine will made briefly manifest by its unworthy earthly representative,” he pronounced with trembling mystic reverence.

With the matter thus decided Norgath aimed his mace at Krull’s head and wound it up back and forth slowly to toy with this upstart challenger as if preparing to casually hit a home run off a batting tee. His now utterly spent adversary spat on the ground in resignation and leered at his better with unfathomable disdain.

In one bone-crunching arc of his mace, the Magnate of Murder, the Tycoon of Torture, the great and fearsome warlord of commerce, Nefarious Norgath, scored a rib-shattering blow square onto Krull’s chest, catapulting his broken body several feet where he then landed with a heavy thud and settled lifeless in a crumpled, vanquished heap. Norgath raised his battle scepter in ultimate triumph and the arena exploded.

On the jumbo screens above the stands, Fallmart Inc.’s stock price shot up in magnificent winning green while Crosshair Ltd.’s stock bled out in abject defeated red.