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.
- 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.
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!
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.