Justin Baker's day was uneventful….as always.

However he had become very inclined toward the tedium, which, for Justin was a very rare occasion. Looking back on other jobs he had, this one paled in comparison.

"But the pay is fucking amazing." He thought to himself.

His day consisted of something very similar to Bryan's: wake up, eat, work…or at least pretend to…, eat, sometimes a game of poker or blackjack, and then eat, and bed. Of course, he also had to make sure to keep his schedule open for impromptu teasings of his good ol' buddy Bryan, but that, of course, was off the clock.

Yet this week he had to be a little more on edge, especially after hearing that negligence on the part of Bryan's team had caused a major fuck-up, that and the sudden outbreak of illness in the mansion.

He hated it when Bryan had to take the rap for other people's mistakes, considering he had made him do just that so many times in the past. Justin knew that Bryan thought of him mostly as a responsibility rather then a friend, and that it was mostly his own fault, but he knew that one day he'd have the chance to pay him back, to thank him for everything he had done over the years. Justin wished that he could be more like Bryan sometimes, but now just wasn't one of those times.

He couldn't believe how many people had gotten sick lately. It was a scary thought, but it seemed like the only people who weren't sick were Bryan, and hims—

His phone rang.

"Hello, Justin Baker's office—can I help you?"

"Sir, this is Jason Halick, I'm just calling with the hourly-report."

Justin knew that if Halick was calling everything was alright, but he felt like today was a good day to screw around with him a little bit.

"Oh, alright, let me have it." He said.

"Well everything seems to be going to plan, all the tests…"

Justin cut him off. "Tests? What tests? I didn't authorize any tests."

"Um, sir we test everyday, per your orders."

"You're fired Halick, and tell the others never to disobey me again."

Justin could hear Halick panting for breath on the other line, and as opposed to allowing him to pass out from hyperventilation as he had done before, and gotten in and out of trouble for thanks to Bryan, he cooled the man down.

"Relax Halick, you aren't fired, I'm just messing with you."

"T-T-Thank you S-S-Sir," said the poor man on the other line, "goodbye."

"Goodbye Halick." Justin hung up the phone.

With everything running smoothly and the clock approaching 7pm Justin felt this was as good a time as any to call it a day. He closed up his office, clocked out, and began walking back towards the little room he called home.

Everyday his path sent him past the mansion infirmary where employees could go if they weren't feeling well, and on any normal day he would see it mostly deserted, but lately when he would pass there were lines and lines of people with sores oozing with puss, red bloodshot eyes, coughs, wheezes, and other semi-allergic reactions.

"Well," he chuckled to himself, "I don't think I'll be eating cafeteria food anymore."

Just as he was passing the infirmary he heard a shout coming from within, followed by a gunshot and then total silence. He felt his pulse quicken just a little bit and as he was about to go and see what happened he was stopped by one of his co-workers in line.

"Don't bother, that isn't the first time that's happened," said Steven Koontz.

Koontz had been a good friend of Justin's for as along as he could remember, he was a strong man, with a strong body and a strong will, Justin always looked up to him. But to see him suffering from whatever the others in the line were dealing with seemed completely dehumanizing.

"Don't bother," he repeated, "We don't know what's causing it, but it seems these allergic reactions lend themselves to a loss of sanity and reason that's supposedly only curable by death. Umbrella claims its standard procedure, and it's in our contracts."

"Bullshit," said Justin, "This all started right after Bryan's test subjects escaped, I bet they are related."

"I don't know, but you better get out of here before any of us get you sick. I'll call you when I'm feeling better; you owe me a game of poker."

"You're on." Justin replied.

He left the infirmary and headed back to his room and just as he got to the door, out walked Dr. Ingrid Michaelson, a friend of Justin's and apparently a new and very close friend of Bryan's, to Justin's knowledge at least, as this wasn't the first time this week he had caught her leaving wearing what looked like only a bathrobe.

"Doctor," he said mockingly as he nodded his head, "I hope my roommate isn't too ill, is it safe for me to go in?" he laughed.

"Hello to you too Justin," she said, "and by the way, mind your own fucking business."

She left him with a wink, and was gone down the hall.

Justin entered his room to find his roommate lying on his back in bed.

"You sly dog," Justin said with an admirable tone in his voice, "You better tell me everything."