You awoke very disoriented and confused, and for some reason, with an intensely bright light shining directly in your face. It was so bright that the rest of the room looked black. You closed your eyes again, nearly slipping back into unconsciousness when you hear "Come on now, wakey-wakey Tom" said some guy, before a hand slapped you across the face, waking you up fully. "Hey, don't slap him. If you ruin this because you give him lasting brain damage, then I swear that you will be the next one up on that table." Threatened another man, in a much more stern and familiar voice. "Mr. Rickman? What's going on? What.... happened? Uuuughhh, my head...." you grumble to your boss, who is also the owner of one of the largest corporations in the world.
"Tom, you are a disappointment. I had expected many great things from you when I first brought you on as director of the R&D branch you know. However after 3 years, only a handful of new products, and all of them were pure pieces of shit. Mediocre at best mind you if we count the job you took over half way through when you started. That is all you could accomplish in those 3 years. And yet I was paying a ludicrously generous budget, since you promised me results. How many last chances did I give you? 5? And now your latest project ends yet again in yet another roadblock, and this time you come to me with such an ethically disturbing solution."
Out of the darkness, Mr. Rickman appears next to the table you are strapped down to and sits down on the edge of it. "Look, I use to like you Tom. But year after year of hemorrhaging money and resources, my patience with you hase worn out. And now after this latest shitstorm you have caused... embezzling funds from your department to pay for your new cars, houses, vacations... I mean really, you don't even have a family. Look, its about time you started making an actual contribution. So, let me introduce you to my new Director of R&D, Mr. Lorovof, and your replacement. And don't you worry, I'll make sure the obituaries say something really flattering about your, grave misfortune. Disolving in acid is such a painful way to go, or so I hear. Luckily your real fate isn't actually that. You see, Mr. Lorovof has managed to create a solution for your latest failed project. If this works out, maybe I will send you as a gift to my daughter? Anyways, Tom." Mr. Rickman gives you a nod, pats your leg twice, gets up and disappears back into the darkness. A door closing can be heard a few seconds later. Then a slight pain in your arm, brings your attention over to Mr. Lorovof who has just injected you with some kind of blue liquid, grins back at you but says nothing as you pass out again.