He was a normal man in an unique world, until one day everything changed. He was a government worker and he had been assigned to study this new chemical that had been released into the world. It had been quarantined and isolated so it couldn't spread. He was studying this strange gas when he realized he had a tear in his Hazmat suit. He immediately tried to run out the door, but to his surprise it was locked. He was trapped in the room with the mysterious gas, and no seemed to be coming to help him. He sat for hours waiting for something to happen. It was maddeningly boring to be sitting there for so long. He tried to scrape up the walls, he tried screaming, he even tried throwing the gas bottle into the ventilation system. Yet, all his work was to no avail. No one came, no checked on him. He began to grow weary of people watching him, studying him. He could swear he saw through the mirror on the wall into another room. He sat and he thought, he knew they were just going to let him rot in there. He knew he was just going to be another studying cadaver. He was sure not to let this happen, he stared attacking himself, he created a fire using the mysterious gas and the Zippo he always carried. The fire stripped the flesh and exposed more of his fragile skin. The fire stopped only because of the natural fire retardant built into the Hazmat suit. He tried beating his head against the wall, punching him self slamming his body into the wall. He kept doing this until finally, with one last strike to his head, he stopped moving. It was over, he lie motionless on the ground.

"Well, I thought someone of his superior intellect could resist the gas for much longer," Bill commented.
"I know he fell into the same patterns as the others; fear, paranoia, and finally self-mutilation," Jim replied.
"Well, lets put him in the back with all the others," Bill said.