The office was quiet. Most of the lights were off, the ventilation equipment was whirring softly, and something beeped quietly, rhythmically. But if an observer had walked down the hall, they would have heard a staccato tapping, and seen a light under a door.

It was the tiny office of a data entry clerk. The only reason she had an office at all was because the data she handled was quite sensitive to the well being of the company.

This particular clerk was a Reploid, and she had been designed specifically for her position. Her hair was long, auburn and silky. Her face was pretty, in a sweet, childish way. Her deep green eyes were warm, her smile sweet, and her voice was warm and pleasant. Her body was statuesque and quite beautiful, encased in deep green armor that perfectly matched her eyes.

Right now, though, it would have been hard for anyone to appreciate her beauty. Her hands moved almost spasmodically, and her face twitched violently as she stared at the screen. A thin line of drool oozed down her chin, ignored and unattended. Her eyes were wide, and wild.

Deep in her mind, neural connections fizzled and popped. She was Maverick, and knew it, but was helpless to stop the conflict that was tearing her apart.

Most Reploids, when infected, followed common patterns. Some went completely insane, driven to wild acts of violence by the virus rampaging through their systems. The strongest Reploids, with iron will, usually fell this way, their sanity shattering under the remorseless onslaught of the Maverick Virus. Such Mavericks were of limited use to Sigma, and usually burnt themselves out quickly in kamikaze attacks. Others broke more subtly, and were still insane, but cunning enough to be quite dangerous. Sigma could make far more use of them, although they could sometimes be erratic. And then there were those who yielded to the virus, for one reason or another. Those were Sigma's generals and trusted troops.

But sometimes, reactions could be highly individual, and this little data clerk was suffering through one of those. Because of the sensitive nature of her work, she'd been commissioned with heavy shielding on her data storage… including her anti-virus protections. And somehow, the virus she had been infected with was particularly weak. It was unable to find the source of her anti-virus protections.

That was not the blessing it could have been, because her virii protections did not have the power to drive the virus out of her. So instead, the weakened virus and her anti-virals were engaging in a continuous war over every aspect of her body. The result was endless, crippling pain as her motor controls and neural net began a slow slide into complete dysfunction.

If she could have yielded to the Maverick Virus, she would have. The pain had started just after quitting time, and it was almost dawn now. Her sanity was long since gone, and the neural pathways in her neural net were randomly firing, fizzling and snapping as the programs battled. A fit of giggling started, and she bit her lip until it bled, her eyes wide and vacant.

"Shits and giggles… shits and giggles!" More giggling filled the room, as she put a program into effect…

"What in hell is this?" The President of the company complained, glaring at his computer screen. The computer had seemed to work, when he turned it on in the morning… for about five seconds. Now it was full of static and accompanied by a noise that sounded suspiciously like giggling. Then, to his disgust, there was the sound of several large farts.

"It looks like a virus." The IT department manager was calm. "Nothing we can't handle. We're already taking care of it. We might as well let everyone go home, though. This was released right into the company network. Fortunately, the diagnostics say the backups are fine." They backed up everything every night, before everyone went home. The system data was safe… although the company would loose a day of productivity.

"The company network?" The President demanded. "Someone inside the company did this?" That was an appalling thought. This was a small company, specializing in some very delicate legal services. That one of them would deliberately sabotage their work…

Down the hall, another date entry clerk entered the office. She peeked past her friend's door.

"Deirdre? Would you like some doughnuts?" She frowned, seeing her friend was slumped in her chair. "Are you asleep?" That was strange, and not good. No one was supposed to sleep on the job! She stepped into the room and gripped the chair, turning it around-

Her shriek was piercing, and brought everyone in the building to the room in an instant. The President elbowed through the press… then blanched.

"God in his heaven!" The second Reploid girl was whimpering and clinging to a friend, her face pasty white and her eyes wide with horror. "Someone call 911!"

"Bob… she's dead." The IT manager said, his face also white. The President glared at him.

"Call them anyway!" He went to comfort the horrified clerk, trying not to look at the ghastly sight.

In the depths of her pain, before her neural net had gone into complete cascade failure, Deirdre had gouged her own eyes out.