It has often been said that the rich have poor taste. Though there might be the occasional exception (Michael Jackson comes to mind), in general this is utterly false- copious amounts of cash easily obtains quality. A stroll or leisurely drive through the gated high rise enclaves of London or Manhattan, or the ‘rustic’ greenery of Malibu quickly dispel any notion that the rich- en mass- are prone to the tacky or tawdry, why should they be when money is no object and enough of it buys the very best?
There is a very exclusive, not to mention reclusive, company- part of a corporation that knows no international boundaries- specializing in costly commodities that…ah…are expensive, partly at least, because their purchase falls outside the boundary of the law. Many organizations of this type exist and these sorts of pursuits are well known and can often be read about in the newspapers as anonymity withers under the glare of Interpol raids or paramilitary interventions. The Colombian drug cartel comes to mind… The Mosla Corporation, however, has never been in the news- neither exposé nor advertisement grace hard copy or airwaves and you won’t see or hear the CEO interviewed by Barbara Walters. Customers are few but substantial enough in number to keep the secretive shareholders living in standards of luxury that would boggle the imagination of any but that rarified class with access to petro dollars or other massive industrial concerns…and these are often Mosla’s most avid customers.
Mosla, of course, is a kind of acronym for ‘Modern Slavery’ and this perfectly describes both the product and nature of business catered to by the clandestine company. Though a subsidiary branch with a slightly different acronym serves those in the market for females, Mosla specializes in men- aged 18 to mid-30’s depending on the taste and various requirements of the consumer. Extremely well funded; the scope of the modern slaver’s operation is vast and no handsome male, though he is almost certainly unaware, is safe. From the moment of initial identification, to capture, arduous processing and training, and, finally, eventual sale and delivery- the company’s facilities, shrouded behind walls of polished marble or granite, out of the way inner city warehouses, or leafy estates isolated in a sea of green, are more than able to handle the flow as strapping, muscular male flesh moves through a system whirring with a calm efficiency born of long experience and utmost regard for the quality of the product.
Welcome, my friends, to Modern Slavery. Prepare yourselves for a journey through a world that operates, unseen, before your very eyes where those with an invitation begin and then, if cash allows, augment some very special collections chosen carefully and groomed assiduously; cops and firemen, construction workers and soldiers, college jocks and foot loose backpackers, and, of course, the guy next store- all put through their paces and found on display in the labyrinthine network of Mosla’s operations. Are you ready?Next chapter