When the hedge fund came to take over the factory, it was billed as something which would be good for the entire community. Of course, nine months later, when all of the workers showed up for work only to discover that they had been locked out and the factory closed down, there was an uproar, but Phillip didn’t give a shit about that. He celebrated with a cigar as the fund took all of the company’s assets, including the worker’s pensions, and used it to give themselves all huge–and in their minds–well deserved bonuses.

It was a couple months later when the group of men stormed into his mansion. They called themselves the Personal Hedge Fund, and after subduing Phillip with a special drug, which left him completely open to their suggestions, he gave them complete control over his personal finances and all of his property, allowing them to completely empty his accounts and sell off all of his property, but he soon discovered that the PHF wasn’t done there–they weren’t done my a long shot.

What followed was months of mental programming. Forcing him to speak in an uneducated accent, giving him tattoos all over his body, including some on his neck and wrists that he couldn’t hide. And then, when they were satisfied, they dumped him in a trailer park not too far from the now run down factory he and his friends had ruined, and left him there, laughing all the way to the bank, and Phillip soon discovered that the other trailers were all occupied by his old co-workers–but the PHF had taken over and ruined their lives too. They soon discovered what it truly meant to be poor, in a place with no economy, and they spent the rest of their lives living in the trailers, while the PHF gave all of their wealth to the men and women whose lives they had ruined.

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