Derek: Say hello to idiosa dartellum 7,
or the ID-7 virus.
Nasty-looking little fucker, huh?
For the uninitiated,
the ID-7 strain makes stress hormone levels rise,
blocks neural paths, essentially attacking our ID
and throwing off a very important balance
in our brains...
The balance between emotions and reason
that keep us from doing stupid shit,
thinks like punching your boss in the face when angry
or fucking your date in public when horny.
That balance is temporarily severed,
causing inhibitions to drop
and basic instincts to rise to the surface
as the infected fall victim
to what experts call emotional hijacking.
Social media has tagged it the red-eye virus
for obvious reasons.
So in a nutshell,
basic human dignity takes a sick leave.
The first reported case of the red-eye virus
occurred 18 months ago in des moines, Iowa,
and quickly spread around the world.
Since then, there have been over 1,000 confirmed outbreaks
reported globally, over half of which
are in the United States alone.
The CDC is optimistic they can contain the virus immediately
through mandated quarantines,
and the nation will be virus-free
by the end of the year
as antibodies are being aggressively tested.
They also state the virus isn't lethal,
which is technically true.
But while the virus can't kill, the infected, or redders, can.
Introducing Mr. nevil Reed,
the first redder to be officially cleared for murder.
Derek: His legal defense alleged
that those infected with the ID-7 strain
can't control their emotions
and therefore are not liable for the resulting actions.
And thanks to a loophole, the case was dismissed.
So nevil lost his shit,
stabbed a co-worker repeatedly in the face till dead
and walked thanks a doctor's note.
God bless the justice system.
Welcome to the home of towers & Smythe consulting,
the corporate scumbags hired by the bigger corporate scumbags
in the landmark nevil Reed case.
Tsc is a firm fueled by greed, duplicity, and moral decay,
a place that ironically screens their job applicants
for honesty, loyalty, and integrity.
Qualities I had in spades when I was fresh-faced
and ready to take on the world my first day here.
And here's me six months later --
late nights, no respect, the bad coffee,
all the shit that comes with paying your dues.
But none of it could slow me down.
I was striving for the success my family never had,
a seat at the big kids' table with all the fixings,
all while paying back those goddamn student loans.
But the higher I rose,
the more I felt like I was losing myself in the process.
And after discovering that loophole that won the Reed case,
the requisite promotion quickly followed.
But by then, it didn't matter
that I thought he was guilty as fuck.
I just wanted the corner office.
And for my sins, they gave me one.
What a dick.
Towers and Smythe.
Man: I mean, how fucking stupid can you get?
-I'm sorry. I -- -oh, you're sorry?
I don't fucking pay you to be fucking sorry, Jenny.
-Morning, hey. Morning, hey. -Not now, Derek.
Dude, you got to see this. You got to see this.
-Come over here. -What's up?
I just got this today.
Oh, man, last year's Christmas party.
That looks like you.
Yeah. That's you.
Where'd you get that?
Oh, I googled "a small-dick douche
makes assistant work hard for fake promise of a raise,"
and it was just, like, top search result, like, number one.
Listen, leave her alone or I'll sell this to your wife
for half of the half she'll get from your divorce.
It's a good talk, bro.
Thank you.
Derek: May not be much... Morning, miles.
...but I'll take whatever goodwill I can pillage
to sleep better at night.
Thank god for coffee, right?
Your 9:00 A.M. is in meeting room three.
-Where is my coffee cup? -Don't know. Also, I --
do you know who took it?
No. But I can get you another one.
Derek: I don't want another mug. I want my mug.
Yep, David from vanda corp.
Derek. Derek.
-What? -David, line one.
Okay. Put him on.
David, I was just about to call you.
Lucy: David? Who the hell's David?
It's Lucy.
Miles, this is my sister.
I'm sorry.
Lucy: It is so hard to get you on the phone.
I just wanted to see if you were coming up
for my birthday next month.
Yeah. Um...
No, actually. I'm so sorry.
I will not be able to make it to your birthday.
But I will totally make it up to you.
Lucy: Well, if you're not gonna show up,
at least paint me something cool.
How do you know i started painting?
Lucy: Miles said you're pretty good.
-Oh, did he? -Lucy: Yeah.
You should sign up for art classes or something.
I don't have time for art classes.
Lucy: Yeah. You don't have time for anything.
Yes. You are correct.
I do not have time for anything.
I don't have time for this conversation.
-But I love you very much. -Lucy: Wait, Derek. I just --
-i wanted to talk to you more. -Thank you so much for calling.
I got to go. I love you. Bye.
What's my 9:00?
Woman: Good morning. Pat Sorenson's office.
-Right this way, sir. -Great. Thanks.
How can I help you?
My client wants to pay this overdue debt
to reverse the foreclosure.
We just need tsc to tell the bank to allow more time.
I'm sorry to inform you,
but our client has a strong no-refinance policy.
Then what do I tell mine?
Would you be open to discussing the possibility
of a deed in lieu?
Mm. You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?
-You should see a lawyer. -I am a lawyer.
If you were a lawyer, you would know what a deed in lieu is.
You're one of the borrowers, aren't you?
So what's a deed in lieu?
It doesn't matter.
Bank wouldn't agree to it anyway.
Look, you're not the first borrower
to try to pull this kind of scam.
Miss, this is a non-smoking room.
So come stop me, suit.
Wait.
We just need two more months.
Families are involved here, but nobody listens,
not the banks, not the lawyers.
I can't get past their damn secretaries.
Look, I am very sorry this is happening to you.
-Then don't kick me out. -The bank is kicking you out.
-The bank is your client. -It's the firm's client.
The firm's partners call the shots.
No one raindrop thinks it caused the flood.
My mother used to say that.
Now I understand what it means.
Is there anything else i can do to help?
Melanie: You can start by telling me
the partner calling the shots on the case.
Sure. That would be...
Oh, shit.
Irene Smythe.
Well, I want a word with this Irene Smythe
or whoever right now.
Sure. Let me get her on the phone.
-This way, ma'am. -Get off me!
We're not done here!
I'm gonna sue you! I'm gonna sue all of you!
Fuckers!
You're in deep shit, too!
You're in deep shit.
Brenda wasn't feeling well,
so I had to go out to the penthouse
to cover for her for a bit.
Uh-huh.
Turns out the boss is meeting with Kara,
and I'm pretty sure they were talking about
you fucking up a vanda corp case or something.
Wait, what? Are you --
I don't work vanda corp. That's Kara's client.
I know, right?
Oh, no.
Man: How can I help you?
Derek Cho. Need an access code to the eighth floor.
Man: To see whom?
Derek: Kara Powell, director of operations,
not effective for client matters,
but with all things related
to navigating internal company politics,
she's fuckin' Mussolini.
- We call her the siren.
Derek: She's got the boss's ear.
And her songs are sweet poison.
Man: Mr. Cho.
Mr. Cho.
To see...Kara Powell.
Man: One moment, please.
Your pass code is 7-8-5-star-9-5.
Ray: You expected me to create a dedicated office mobile app
with servers that run on hamster wheels.
Ray, stop talking.
If I hear another whining excuse from you,
I'll make sure you're back to building
porn-site banner ads by lunch.
Do you understand me?
Ray: Yes, fine.
The siren: So stop playing video games in your troll cave
and get the interoffice apps updated asap, okay, sweetie?
Okay. Thank you so much. Bye-bye.
Asshole.
-What I can do for you? -That's a nice mug.
Where'd you get it?
I told my assistant to get me one.
And where did she get it?
Meg!
Derek here wants to know where you got the mug.
From a kitchen downstairs.
Okay. And why did you choose that one?
Meg: Because the other ones were filthy.
Derek: And why do you think this one wasn't?
Meg: Because the maid cleaned it.
Derek: Incorrect. I cleaned this mug because this mug is mine.
And what's mine is mine.
And what's yours is yours.
You're getting to a point.
Vanda corp is your client.
That blood's on your hands.
Oh. Oh, so now you want to share.
Derek: I can't share what isn't mine.
Vanda corp has filed more than 100 account cases
through us in the last two years.
Well, then I hope they have a good case manager.
You mean managers.
No one can work a client that big without delegating.
And according to the annual work distribution sheet...
That hasn't been updated in years.
...one of vanda corp's complaint cases was assigned...
...to you.
File 45a.
I'm being set up.
Wow. Heads will roll.
This will cost vanda --
give me this.
-This was planted. -I'll cut you a deal.
-Plead guilty. -Not guilty.
The corpse was found inside your office.
You knew exactly where to find it.
Do you want to take this upstairs?
Great idea. Take your file.
The siren: Want to swipe your key card,
or should I swipe mine?
Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot.
You don't have clearance.
My bad.
Don't you worry, little one.
Daddy will pay for abandoning you
and leaving you to die in that cold, dirty dumpster.
No, no. You died when you drowned
because mommy left you in the bathtub
while she went shopping for shoes.
But don't worry. Daddy will make her pay.
Too bad mommy outranks daddy.
Derek: Mommy's a backstabbing bitch.
The siren: That's why mommy outranks daddy.
-Brenda, what's his mood? -Brenda: He's drawing.
Oh, shit.
John towers, capital "t" in tsc, king of the castle,
top of the food chain, and total fucking maniac --
you know, your typical American success story.
Did I mention that he also dabbles in the fine arts?
Tell me what you see here.
I see that those soldiers' lives are in danger, sir.
Do you think they'll make it?
No, sir. The fuse is too short.
It's too late to run.
And what do you think they should be doing instead?
May I, sir?
Hmm.
So simple and yet so effective.
Can you see it, Derek?
Can you see the solution to our problem here?
I think you mean her problem because she was the one that --
give me the file.
This is our bomb.
The fuse is already burning.
So should we run like cowards and die?
We are brave, sir.
I'm so glad you said that, because any second now,
vanda corp is gonna find out about this mess,
and I'm gonna need some scalps.
So, who dropped the ball?
I hate pointing fingers, but may I suggest
you check the annual work distribution sheet?
Someone cooked the fucking worksheet.
Sir.
Go on.
Have you noticed that whenever there's a problem like this,
it's almost always the same soldier involved?
Because down in the trenches, we have all noticed.
And we wonder if discharging this problem soldier
might be the solution to preventing this kind of mess
from ever happening again.
And who would that be?
May I?
Thank you, Derek. You can leave.
Let's discuss.
Yes, sir.
-I -- -leave.
You got a sec?
Ahhh-ummmm.
Nothing like a little power meditation.
This one's new. Declan's walking already?
Wobbling, actually, like you were last Friday night.
Thanks for the ride, by the way.
Thanks for puking in my car.
That's what friends are for.
So debrief me. What happened?
Just found someone else's shit swept under my carpet.
What kind of shit?
Vanda corp shit.
It's a seven-figure mistake. I didn't even touch the file.
Ah, don't sweat it.
Those clowns working vanda corp
are a bunch of a serial screw-ups.
Look, I realize you might not want to divulge --
the siren.
All right. Let's take a beat to strategize.
Since the promotion, you could possibly
be in charge of a case that big
but not big enough to be untouchable.
That's why she chose you. You're the perfect fall guy.
So before even taking this upstairs --
you already took this upstairs and made a mess of things.
Fuck.
Say I punch a rhino in the face.
Would you call that brave or stupid?
Brave...
And stupid.
See how bravery and stupidity can overlap?
Now that you understand that, let me give her a call
and see if I can't find a way to cut you a deal.
She already offered me a deal.
I told her to suck it and that this is war.
War is over, moron.
-Come on in, Kara. -How so?
Natural selection happened. Pack your shit.
-Boxes are on the second floor. -You're fucking kidding me.
Derek, calm down.
You blew him, didn't you?
Like I need to stoop to that level.
Now...Get the fuck out of my face.
I'm taking this to the nine.
Sure. Good luck with that.
And I want my mug back.
The nine, the company's board of directors.
Good morning, everybody. This is the vanda corp file.
Derek: No one here goes up or down without their vote.
Rumor has it that they're actually cybernetic organisms,
but that hasn't been officially confirmed yet.
Now, there's a common misconception
about the death gesture during gladiatorial combat.
The actual phrase used in Roman texts
doesn't translate as thumbs down,
but rather thumbs turned.
Personally, I think we should hang,
draw and quarter the little fucker.
But, you know, that's just me. So let's vote.
Derek: That's because the Victors
finished off their opponents
with a sword thrust across the throat.
So it's unanimous. Call Lester.
Derek: Enter Lester mcgill, head of human resources.
No, not her. That guy.
He takes care of the firm's layoffs.
He's as cold as his methods are efficient, a perfect fit here.
Naturally, we call him the reaper,
and he's the last person
you want to see standing at your doorway.
Mind if I come in...Derek?
Derek: If I said no?
Thank you.
D-do you even know what happened?
I don't care what happened.
You must be good friends with Kara, then.
I hope she dies promptly.
Glad we're on the same page.
Um, the nine listen to you, and I have proof that...
-Sign here... -...This was not my mist--
...and here.
What the hell are you doing?
My job.
So you are on her side.
I'm on the right side. Always am.
That's why it's me firing you.
Fuck you.
Sign these documents from upstairs
so I can clear accounting to transfer your severance pay
into your account.
Derek: Do you know what this is?
This is a statement saying
that I take full responsibility over the vanda corp mess.
I'll have to file that under "n" for "not my problem."
I could be disbarred.
I could face legal action from the client.
I'm just the messenger, Derek.
Yelling at me is like yelling at your watch because you're late.
Why would I sign this crap?
To get rich.
Wow.
Glad to see we're now on the same page.
Glad to see I'm not.
You want to do this the hard way?
I want to do this the right way.
I want to speak with him and the nine.
Executive decisions are not subject to appeal.
This one fucking better be
because I'm not leaving this building until I plead my case.
Understood.
Man: This building is under quarantine.
Get back inside.
Man: What's going on here?
You can't tell me...
-What the... -...Hell is going on?
One of our pathogen sniffers
in the building's ventilation system
picked up traces of the ID-7 virus.
And who authorized you
to install a sniffer in my building anyway?
Since the outbreak in des moines,
detection devices are now legally required
in public places.
Des moines. Fuck.
Woman: According to our projections,
those infected in the building
will begin to display symptoms soon, if not already.
Our experts have already released a neutralizer
into your ventilation system.
All traces of the virus should be eliminated
in approximately eight hours.
Until then, this building is officially under quarantine.
So what are we supposed to do for the next eight hours?
Try to remain calm.
Derek: So there I was getting the shit kicked out of me
on the lobby floor by this asshole.
And then...Something...Happened!
-Aah! -I don't want to remain calm!
I want this fixed.
Hey. It's me. It's me.
-You all right? -I think I just --
I think I just punched a rhino in the face.
-What? -He attacked me.
And then i-i just kicked his ass.
--Whoo!
I'm going to go talk to the nine.
-No. -Yeah.
Fuck this place!
This mess is a blessing in disguise, trust me.
You don't want to end up like me.
What are you talking about? You have everything figured out!
No, Derek.
This -- this -- this meditation and this incense,
it's all bullshit.
You think I like the taste of Kale?
Come on! I'm fuckin' dead inside.
But they have me wrong. I have to tell them.
Do you have any idea what they're capable of?
Just -- just -- just hide out in your office
until the virus subsides,
then walk out those doors and don't look back.
Free as a bird.
All right?
-Okay. -Okay.
-Now come on.
Put some peanut butter in your wheatgrass shot.
What do you say?
Motherfucker!
Until the quarantine is over, we'll need your cooperation
to keep the situation under control.
We know better than anyone else that this virus
turns people into maniacs or blathering idiots.
As you may know,
the virus triggers a breakdown of moral barriers,
unleashing repressed emotions in the infected,
including anger, depression, fear, lust.
Like cocaine?
An infected individual would make a coke addict
look like a model citizen by comparison.
But we still feel normal.
Woman: The virus can cause drastic mood swings
with potentially violent and severe consequences.
It would be best if stressful work-related situations
were avoided.
Yeah. I'm going to come to your house,
and I'm going to fucking kill you!
Bye, mom.
Woman: Antidepressants, stimulants,
even caffeine can accelerate the virus's effect.
Meg, make more fucking coffee!
So, what happens when 287 employees
with average billing rates of $200 an hour
stop working for eight hours?
You don't know?
I lose half a million dollars!
Now, crack your whips. Everybody goes back to work.
And if they don't like it, they are terminated immediately
and no severance packages.
Put the fear of me in them.
What now?
Woman: Derek Cho wants clearance to come up.
-What for? -Woman: He said he reconsidered,
but he wants to have a word with you and the nine first.
Man: Your pass code is 8-star-1-9-9, fuck-head.
Fuck you!
No, no.
No, up.
Up. Up.
Let me the fuck up!
Ohh!
Colton snyder, aka the bull, the boss' unofficial left hook.
Nobody knows his exact job description.
But whenever there's a hint of something dirty going on...
-Take his phone. -...There he is.
The boss: Hello, Derek.
Uh, look, I am so sorry
we didn't get a chance to meet again.
Uh, things came up. You know how it is.
Now, I know what you're thinking --
"nevil Reed, he got away with murder.
Maybe I can have a little fun here."
Did you really think that i didn't see that coming?
Actually, I was just gonna ask for my job back.
But I like your idea, too.
The boss: Well, I'm going to beat you to the punch.
Oh, ow. Now, that sounds like it hurt.
-Is he hurt? -Yes, sir.
The boss: Is he crying?
No, sir.
The boss: Well, why isn't he fucking crying?!
He is now, sir.
The boss: Now, I want to hear a bone break.
They say the femur is the most difficult bone in the body
to break, but I'll settle for a pinkie.
Ewan: I'm coming, Derek.
What's happening?
Motherfuckers!
Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on in there?
Ewan?
I...Smell...
Toast.
Ewan.
Ewan!
-Ewan! -Ewan?
Derek: Ewan!
You killed Ewan?
There's been an accident.
Do you have any idea how many billable hours
I'm gonna lose until I find a replacement?
The bull: I'm worried about the body right now.
-I killed him. -The boss: You didn't kill him.
The virus killed him. You're infected.
You have impunity!
We have a precedent in nevil Reed.
You can thank Derek for that.
-Motherfucker. -Thank you for that, Derek.
The boss: Lock him up with the other one
and then get back up here.
Ah!
What are you doing here?!
They fired me.
That's nice.
Justice is served for once.
What are you doing here?
Melanie: Security called the cops,
but this place was quarantined before they could show up,
so they threw me in this hellhole.
I'm suing everyone and their grandmother
when I get out of here, i swear to god.
Good luck. It's ID-7!
No one's liable for anything that they do.
Melanie: Just like any other day for you.
Yeah, we're not liable for what we do in here, either.
Nice, then I'll have your balls for dinner
for that shit you pulled!
--Wait! Wait! Wait!
This might sound crazy,
but I think we can help each other out here.
Okay? You remember Irene Smythe,
the woman that fucking screwed you?
She's in the building's penthouse right now.
So what?
You help me get to the top, and she's all yours.
This is our shot to hold these assholes accountable
for all the fucking damage that they've done!
And our chance goes away as soon as this quarantine is over.
Yeah?
Can I get up now?
Are you going to stop being an asshole?
That's debatable.
Ah, yes. Yes.
Oh.
What are you looking for?
A loophole.
It's my specialty.
Yeah!
I don't think they'd lock us up in a room with working phones.
Derek: I don't need a working phone.
Just need bit of this, a bit of that.
Build a franken-phone.
And call who? Cops can't enter the building.
I'm not calling the cops.
Uh, sir? Um, Derek Cho somehow managed
to set up a call with vander corp's ceo,
and they wanted you to join in.
Ahh.
In a minute.
Sorry to keep you waiting, frank.
I'm all ears!
Ah, glad you could join us, John.
Well, I've been having a nice, long chat
with one of your lawyers.
You still there, Derek?
Yes, uh, sir. I am still here.
Frank: Good. John, can you please remind me?
Why do I do business with tsc?
Well, because it's a jungle out there, frank.
And not only do you need a guide,
but you also need a lion walking right by your side.
And we are your lion and your guide.
-Frank: Are you? -Yeah.
Well, we're just a touch concerned
that you may have ulterior motives.
We would never turn against our clients, frank.
Frank: Well, that may be true,
but Derek has alerted me to a certain document
that seems to suggest otherwise.
Derek: It's a report that, uh, tsc did for vander corp.
It analyzes the advisability
of filing a multimillion-dollar lawsuit
against one of frank's ex-business associates.
Do you remember this report, John?
No.
Frank: I must say, it's well-written.
I like how it weighs the slim possibility
of a positive financial outcome
against the enormous potential litigation costs.
Do you agree with this report, Derek?
Uh, no, sir. I do not.
I believe you could have won the suit.
Then why did your advisers advise me against it?
Derek: Your advisers missed the deadline to file the motion.
Frank: So you believe that tsc dropped the ball on this one?
Derek: Uh, I believe they dropped the ball, sir.
Uh, but then they also defecated on the ball
and then sodomized the ball, sir.
Frank: Hmm. Interesting.
Oh, and, John,
I just happen to have your last invoice here with me.
Oh.
That went well.
I want you to rip the fucking phone out of his hands,
his hands off his fucking body now!
Uh, yeah. Can I please order two pepperoni pizzas
and some, uh, hot wings?
Yeah. Why not? Throw some, uh, garlic bread in there.
Do you guys want anything?
Brenda! This fucking phone doesn't work!
Yeah.
Christ, man! He fuck your girl, too?
Damn, suit, you don't even respect each other.
You're right.
We don't.
Now what?
Time to go to work.
-Fuck, yeah! -Derek: Oh, shit.
They started a countdown for the quarantine,
posted in an interoffice app.
Well, it's enough time to get the job done.
I mean, this place isn't that big.
Ah, the boss is a fucking raging cokehead.
There's definitely gonna be more guards.
Fine. I'll bring more nails.
The only way to the top floor is with the key card
or a one-time password.
So who do we have to fuck up to get the card?
Okay. First, there's an ass-hat on the sixth floor
who's got a level-two key card.
It can take us to the seventh floor,
giving us access to the bitch
who's got a level-three key card.
Hey, extreme measures, right?
-Wednesdays. -Hey!
Him?
Yep.
Hey!
Open the fucking door!
Fuck you, motherfucker!
You open doors like my grandmother fucks!
Derek: Open the door!
Open the fucking door!
Open the door!
Shh!
Aah!
It really bothers me that women
don't get the same treatment as men in the workplace.
Aaaah!
I'm all about gender equality here.
Aaaah!
Derek!
Aah!
-Need a hand? -I don't need your help, suit.
But I need yours.
Fuck you.
Fuck you, too.
-May we come in? -And if I said no?
You'll have to confer with my associate.
And mine, gimpy.
-What do you want? -Key card.
I'm not the only one with a level-two key card.
But you are the one that fired me, asshole!
Wrong. The firm fired you. Don't nail-gun the messenger.
Oh.
Oh, my god.
You bring up a very good point.
I'm so sorry, Lester. We're good.
We're -- we're -- we're totally good, man.
Um, I will take it up with the firm,
but I would love to know where I could find the firm,
because I would love to kick the firm's ass.
You can't kick a firm's ass.
That's the point.
Oh. Well, then that brings us back to you.
I was just doing my job.
No one raindrop thinks it caused the flood.
I get what that means.
You know what will happen to me if I give you this key card?
I'm going to have to file that under "n"
for "not my fucking problem."
Fuck!
No! The saw!
Extreme measures!
Go!
Whoo!
Derek: Ow!
A little help?
-You ready? -Derek: Ah! Ah!
Melanie: It's gonna hurt a lot.
You're enjoying this, aren't you?
-You're still one of them. -I thought we were a team.
For the time being.
All right. On the count of...
Aah!
Ow.
All right. Calm down.
Derek: Oh, fuck.
At least you're not that guy.
Move aside, pussies. Come on.
Wait. Wait. I have an idea.
Man: Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!
You're cool! Fuck you!
Are we done here yet?
We are now.
Here, take my phone.
I need you to film something.
Film what?
Derek: Okay. Here we go.
Case file 32376, the people vs. Reed.
Now, you all know the court case,
but let's discuss Mr. nevil Reed the man, shall we?
By all accounts, Mr. Reed
was an upstanding pillar of the community,
earned two master's degrees by the age of 21.
He married his college sweetheart
and is the father of beautiful twin girls.
But when Mr. Reed contracted the ID-7 virus, shit got real.
"Overwhelmed by pure ID,
nevil Reed became prone to involuntary,
aberrant, and shocking impulses.
He commited a gruesome,
unspeakable act in broad daylight
in a room full of witnesses."
Now, we're witnessing a model citizen here
transformed into a brutal,
bloodthirsty killing machine
at the blink of an infected eye.
So I ask you this.
Is it his fault or is it the virus's?
Let's discuss.
See you soon, fuckers.
Shit.
Kara, he's on his way up. He has got Lester's key card.
The siren: Oh, really?
That's a shame, a real shame, sir.
Just wondering, did they get it before or after
butchering Lester with an electric saw?
Just calm down and come up here!
The siren: They're guarding the private elevator.
I can't leave the office.
Then destroy the card.
It's my only leverage.
Kara, I promise you,
I will do everything in my power to ensure he doesn't get to you.
But if he does, you must protect those above you.
Fuck those above me!
I'll give you the raise you always wanted.
Fuck your raise!
I'll make you partner.
Fuck your -- deal.
I'll throw it out the window.
Oh, thank you.
Meg!
Hide this somewhere safe and don't tell me where.
And make more fucking coffee now!
Stupid bitch.
Derek: The elevator's the only way upstairs.
We can ambush her here.
Melanie: Well, it's gonna be a while.
Top three bands, go.
Only three?
Only three, that's the rules.
All right.
-Motorhead. -Oh.
D.R.I. And early Anthrax.
-Oh. -Metal till I fucking puke.
All right. Okay.
That's not what I expected, but fine choices.
What did you -- what did you expect, the Dave Matthews Band?
Hey, Dave Matthews Band is actually a good --
other way, asshole. Go. Turn around. Yep. You got it.
Woman: You fucking dick, Joe!
What?
Dave Matthews Band is a good band.
-Oh, my god. -You ever heard them live?
I would rather chew glass.
Are you serious?
Just because they're popular
doesn't mean that they're bad at music.
I think it's actually that people think
it's more popular to dislike them,
so they're just trying to be cool.
-It's bullshit. -All right. Fine.
I'll go see them at burning man.
All right, make fun all you want,
but if we ever get out of here, I'm gonna get us tickets,
all right, to the coliseum show in July.
And I'm gonna take you there,
and I'm gonna turn you on to some great musicianship.
-You're gonna turn me on? -Turn you on, yes.
Before or after we go out to buy birkenstocks?
-Fuck off. -Do you wear them with socks?
I bet you do.
Okay. So -- so -- so just tell me again
why you can't send a unit in to just stop this asshole.
A heavily armed SWAT team in a building filled with civilians
infected with the virus would be catastrophic.
--For that, we need to --
excuse me. What are you doing?
Allergies.
Who are you, my fucking therapist?
Anyway, all we can do is talk to the employee
in an attempt to defuse the situation.
We currently have a psychologist on-site
who could possibly talk to the infected individual.
The boss: Notify the team down in accounting.
I'm offering 150 grand for Cho's head.
You're talking about murder here.
You should be offering at least 450.
Agreed.
Derek: Four hours left till the quarantine lifts.
We're running out of time.
Well, sometimes you got to say, "what the fuck?
Make your move."
-"Risky business." -Yeah.
All right. Whew.
Mark: Hello, Derek? My name's mark.
I'm a psychologist working with the CDC.
-Can you hear me? -Yes, he can hear you, mark.
Mark: I was just told that you were
under a bit of stress right now,
so I wanted to check in on you.
Can we talk? Can you tell me how you feel?
Um, how do I feel?
Um I feel like taking my clothes off.
-Mark: Mm-hmm. -I feel like causing
extraordinary amounts of property damage.
I feel like I want to scream. I want to fuck.
I feel like twisting limbs and breaking bones!
I feel great, mark.
Mark: That's the virus talking.
I agree, mark.
Derek isn't thinking clearly right now.
He's so consumed by his ID that he hasn't noticed
that we're just here to help him.
Mark: You should listen to her, Derek.
Why don't you sit down, take a breath, and talk it out?
Talk it out.
Hmm.
Sure.
-I'll talk it out. -Mark: Yeah.
Let's just have a conversation.
Track three.
Melanie: Better not be fucking Dave Matthews Band.
Derek: Okay.
Those of you who don't want to be a part of this can leave now.
Mark: Derek, please listen to me.
But if you choose to stay,
which it seems like you guys are choosing...
-Mark: Derek, please. -...You understand and agree
to the following terms and conditions.
-Mark: Derek! -One...
Mark: Derek, this is the virus talking.
...you hereby waive your right...
-Mark: Derek, please. -...To your own personal
bodily integrity.
-Mark: This is not you. -Two...
Mark: I'm a licensed psychologist.
...per the state vs. Nevil Reed,
my colleague and I will not be held criminally liable
for any felony or misdemeanor that you may be a victim of,
including but not limited to aggravated assault,
aggravated battery, disorderly conduct,
destruction of property, mayhem, and first-degree murder.
And, three, terms and conditions may change or be updated
whenever the fuck I want!
Consider yourselves notified.
Aah!
Mark: Hello?
Derek?
Is anyone there?
Derek: Knock, knock.
Key card, por favor.
If you want it, you'll have to negotiate.
Negotiations have ended.
Well, so will the quarantine,
and I don't know where the key card is.
-What do you want? -A truce.
Fuck your truce.
No truce, no key card.
All right.
Tell me where it is,
and I promise I'll be on my way and leave you alone.
You're a man of your word, Derek.
That's why I believe you.
And that's -- that's why you never made partner.
Key card.
Key card, Derek.
Don't be stupid now.
There's a good boy.
-Meg! -Yeah, Meg!
Take your key card, Derek, and fuck off.
What card?
All I see is a useless piece of scorched plastic on the table.
Strange. Me too.
-Is that what you see, too, Meg? -Yep.
So tell me, Meg, sweetie,
why did you bring me this useless piece of plastic
instead of my key card?
Oh, that is your key card, or it used to be
before I put it inside a microwave oven.
And why would you do that, i wonder? Huh?
You're exactly like every other assistant, Meg.
You're a vapid, bottom-feeding, parasitic shithead!
You're a pair of tits with zero talent.
So tell me, Meg, you incompetent cunt,
what could possibly possess you to destroy my key card?
Because everyone upstairs knew you would betray them.
So they offered me a promotion
in exchange for destroying the card.
So
I guess I no longer work for you, you fucking bitch.
In fact, I don't have to listen
to your hideous, shrill voice ever again!
-Fuck you! -Fuck you!
Aah!
Now it's a party!
Oh, my god! Yes!
Derek: Hey, just wanted to say,
no more lies, no more power games...
...no more bullshit,
and no more siren song.
By the way, Meg, she's a little crazy.
She's perfect here.
Dude, that freak show had some super-good-quality shoes.
These are comfy as fuck!
-I loved this mug. -Melanie: Mm.
I got it on the, uh, first day that I started here.
My sister gave it to me.
Fuck this place.
Do you still have that, um, foreclosure paperwork on you?
Melanie: Uh, yeah.
Why?
Let me take a little look at it.
What?
You're in luck.
This mortgage is part of a bad batch.
Original paperwork was filed so many times
that it'd be tough to find.
-Oh. -Could even be lost.
So if I ask the bank for the original paperwork...
You'd put them in a tough spot.
Or a signature from upstairs could void it completely.
Really?
Hey, I'm sorry for not helping you earlier.
I should've, but I didn't.
It's okay.
Just don't do it again, I guess.
You rolling?
Push back. Push back.
All right. Stop.
Can you see him?
No.
The boss: Fuck you, Derek.
Is that your friend?
Oh, god.
- Hey, give that to me.
Hey. Hey, it's all right.
He has kids.
Ah! Oh, god.
I'm so sorry.
I'm sorry.
This fucking virus, it just takes --
just takes everything up to 11.
I've noticed.
Hey.
Ahh.
-I know, right? -Yeah.
-I like this virus. -Yeah.
So what now?
Um, I think we should definitely exchange numbers,
consider an apartment, maybe a dog.
-That'd be nice. -No, you idiot! What now?
Um, let's see.
Ray sent an update to the office staff.
Who's ray?
He's the it guy.
Fuckers.
There must be another way we can get up there.
Not without the key card.
Unless...
Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah.
Unless what?
Woman: What's he want?
Derek: Ray can't fix the elevators,
but I have another idea.
Ray!
I'm really busy right now!
God damn it! Fuck you! Why won't you fucking work?
-Ugh! -Ray!
Aaah!
Hey.
-Hi. -Hey.
We need your help.
Holy shit! How'd that happen?
Well, we asked for his help, and then he said he was busy.
Really? Welcome to it.
We need you to hack into someone's computer.
And I need interpol to get off my back,
so what else is fucking new?
Who we talking about?
Irene Smythe.
Oh, fuck her.
What? What the...
Shh.
It department.
Irene: What's wrong with my computer?
Doctor can't do much until you tell him where it hurts.
My Internet is slower than your brain.
Well, that's a miracle considering the budget
that I have for installs and updates.
Seriously, how do you expect me to keep running things
if you have one guy in one room
down in the fucking basement doing everything?
Seriously, and what do I get?
I get denial, denial, denial, denial,
denial on all my fucking budgets, right?
But, "oh, ray, please give me an app!
-Make sure that --" -i am shocked!
I'm shocked and appalled,
and I'll definitely bring this up with John,
but in the meantime, can you do your fucking job?
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Cool your bloomers.
Hold on.
-Just sent you a patch. -A patch?
Ray: It's a file that you install
on that thing in front of you called a computer.
Okay.
Look, this might get complicated for you, but don't worry.
I'll take you through the whole process myself.
-You ready? -Okay.
Ray: Click on the file that's on your desktop.
-Done. -Ray: Now click "install."
So rude.
You know, funny enough,
I think the virus actually made her nicer.
Mm.
Ray: I could've called that file
mean trojan destroyer, the ultimate hard drive rapist,
and she still would have installed it.
And we're in.
Okay. So what we're looking at, th-- those are her files?
Every last one of them, even the porn.
Seems she's got a thing for feet.
What do you want?
I want you to pretend that that is a peaceful village
inhabited by gorgeous virgin maidens.
Melanie: Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you're the, you know, smelly,
aggressive viking king.
You had me at peaceful.
What -- what the...
Ray, you ignoramus, that patch thing has erased my hard drive.
Derek: Hey, Irene.
I got good news, bad news, and worse news for you.
Good news is, is we have a copy
of your hard drive on the backup server.
Bad news is that I have it.
Worse news is that, if you want it,
you got to come down and get it.
What trade?
Irene: The backup copy for my key card.
That backup is worth millions to this firm.
Are you actually listening to me?
I'm meeting him. End of story.
Oh, great. Should I just remove my pants now
to make it easier for him when he comes up here to fuck me?
I'm not going to give him my key card.
The boss: Well, he has got leverage against you.
The idiot let me decide on the meeting spot.
Where's your piece, Colton?
All right. She's clean.
Who is she?
She's one of the mortgage accounts that you, uh...
I'm Melanie cross. I live at 22nd and pacific.
Not for long.
Ah, just --
-key card. -Files.
Are you, uh, looking for this?
Okay.
Um, just a little pro tip.
Employees' iqs at this firm
are inversely proportionate to their salaries,
so it's probably not a good idea
to try to outsmart someone with a smaller paycheck.
Key card.
Now give me the hard drive.
I've done my bit.
Not yet.
Got to sign this first.
Oh, oh, I could sign this,
sure, then claim temporary insanity
and have it dismissed.
Sorry, sweetie, but you can always take it
to the man upstairs with that card you've got if you like.
Ooh!
Irene: You fucking whore!
-Give us a minute. -Yeah, totally.
Ah, ah, ah!
Bullets are for cowards.
Oh, shit.
Aah!
No, no, wait!
That card doesn't work.
It needs an access code.
Aah!
I got it.
No. No!
No, no! No!
The bull: I'm gonna burn your eyes out.
Aah!
--Ah!
I am done fucking around.
Give us the code right now.
I'll give you the code, but here's the new deal, boy.
-You give me her. -What?
She destroyed my work. That's years of my life.
You want your revenge? Well, give me mine.
I just want my home back, you asshole!
The quarantine is ending soon.
Your time is running out.
Give me the access code!
I'll give you a pro tip.
You want to swim to the top?
Drop the dead weight.
She'll do it.
Five!
Four!
Three.
-Two! -One.
Derek: Deal.
Melanie: Aah!
Fuck you, Derek, you piece-of-shit suit!
You're just like all of them! You belong here!
Aah, fuck!
-Done? -Mm-hmm.
Fuck you! Fuck you.
I'll be back shortly, sweetie. Come on.
These things only work once.
Don't do anything stupid.
The boss: Can you see it, Derek?
Can you see the solution to our problem here?
You're infected. You have impunity!
Nevil Reed, he got away with murder.
Maybe I can have a little fun here.
Well, I'm gonna beat you to the punch.
The boss: Let's discuss.
What's that?
The terms of my surrender, partnership contract.
You're a fucking piece of shit.
Look, my guy killed your guy.
You killed my guy, so we're even.
Let's just get down to business now, huh?
Ladies.
Monthly profit participation,
annual performance bonus, vehicle allowances,
gas, maintenance, insurance, chauffeur.
Expense accounts, full cellphone allowances,
paid parking, country-club fees.
I've seen you admiring all of this, Derek.
Isn't this what you've always wanted?
Yes.
Then why don't I see a fucking pen in your hand?
Do you really want to spend the next 20 years of your life
just working your ass off for what,
maybe half of what i just offered you?
Sign it, Derek.
Sign it, and I'll suck your cock.
Sign it, and I'll help.
-Be smart. -Be rich.
No.
Mine's bigger.
Mine's always bigger.
You fucker.
Aah!
Gah! Ah!
That's your problem, Derek. No vision.
Aah!
Fuck you.
Fuck! Iron!
No, not the 9, the 5!
Oh!
Look at your partners.
Look at your partners!
You know what they're thinking right now?
They're thinking how big their piece of the pie
is gonna get once you stop taking yours.
This is where we vote, right?
Well, then let's vote. Make it quick.
Can you do it, Derek? Can you do it?
No, because you're too much of a pussy,
which is why I'm up here and you are down there.
But when this is all over,
I will piss on your corpse, as well.
Derek: And so the king falls.
With the quarantine about to lift,
I finally got to plead my case to the nine --
excuse me, eight -- and have my own day in court.
Surprisingly, given the fact
that I just threw their former ceo off a balcony,
they seemed pretty willing to listen.
In a calm and collected manner,
I explained to them my situation,
my dedication to the firm,
the abuse of company resources
by those above my pay grade, yada yada.
I don't need to bore you with the long-form version.
With a sound defense and in light of the day's events,
I pled that...
I think I deserve my job back.
But as they voted, it dawned on me,
something my sister had been trying to tell me for years,
what my new friend reminded me today.
I didn't have a job. The job had me.
I was just another fucking slave to the grind.
Look, we paint our paths with the best of intentions,
but at the end of the day,
sometimes it takes a brushstroke of circumstance
or a deadly virus to set us on the right path again.
Oh, and the incident at tsc, as they're calling it,
ended up being a watershed case to finally accelerate a vaccine
to prevent the symptoms of the ID-7 virus,
pending fda approval, of course.
You're welcome.
And for the firm itself,
well, they did what any corporate asshole
in a corner would do.
They offered me towers' job.
Finally a seat at the big kids' table.
Derek: So I took the gig...
Just long enough to make an executive decision
and do some good in the world.
I quit.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
We wrapped this story up in a nice little bow,
and we pretty much just killed a bunch of people.
I live with that.
But they do say everything happens for a reason.
I'm starting to believe it.
Here's one more pro tip.
Paint your own path to success in work, love, and life...
Derek: ...Before it's too fucking late.