Both sides despised each other. Whenever Cora was in the side that she
called Rebel, she spat upon everything that Umbrella stood for, and checked
for bugs before she spoke to her Mother. Whenever she found a bug, she
insulted Umbrella so subtly that anyone could doubt that she was really
speaking evil against her protectors. When she didn't find one, she cursed
at Turnbull and at the scientists, and at Salven, and at White, and at
Angry and Scrawny, and she would speak of how she was convinced that that
her father had not died in a car crash.
Whenever Cora was in her other side, the one that was christened Angel by her, she was eternally grateful to Umbrella. She knew that she would either be rotting on Death Row or else rotting six feet under if not for Turn and White. She was convinced that her Father (the pompous old fool!) really had had his head swelled so far that he had crashed.
Both sides despised each other because they both knew that either side had grains of truth hidden in them, but as the months, and then the years passed, the sides began to mix together. It was as if Cora had strings neatly attached to her arms and legs, and Umbrella was making her dance to the tune that they wished. Not even Rebel was immune to the jerky dance of the marionette.
So Cora advanced quickly. Her aim with the Glock improved, and she began to work on working with a sniper rifle. She learned how to be flexible, how to swing from rod to rod and how to keep out of sight. She learned how to slit throats and she learned how to rappel down the side of a building.
Altogether, Cora was usually too worn out to question Umbrella's morals any more than she could go out and have a time on the town. She did get days off, in which she explored Paris eagerly, but there were days when she forgot that there was a world outside of Umbrella's headquarters, days when she forgot Mexico even existed except on a blob on a map.
Then one day, everything went to hell.
Cora woke up to shouting, screams, and cries for calm. She went rigid underneath her blankets. An outbreak, that was the only thing that she could think of. There was an outbreak. She got up, silently, and tucked her Glock behind her belt. She grabbed her duffel bag with her sniper rifle and swung it over her shoulder, and hid her knives about her.
Then she crept silently outside her door. The halls were empty. A scientist was running down the hall with a portable radio tucked beneath his arm. He spotted Cora.
"Do you have any news on Raccoon?" he blurted. Cora blinked.
"I was about to ask YOU if you had any news." she said, confused. "Is there an Outbreak? What's going on?"
"There's an outbreak, all right. But not here. In Raccoon City, in America."
Cora nodded slowly and strode down the hall. She didn't know where she was going. She had never gone to this part of the headquarters before - it was where the labs were.
Surprise struck Cora as she entered one of the lab. There were quite a few TVs on, and everyone was gathered around them while trying to do as much work as possible. There were test tubes, and blood samples, and microscopes, and machines that Cora didn't even want to try to understand. But there were no cages with giant beasts within, or zombies, or anything else like that.
"Raccoon City is under seige by the Cannibal Disease." one reporter informed all the scientists.
"You idiot, it's the T-Virus! Not the Cannibal Disease! The T-Virus!"
"This is useless." another scientist groaned. "They're not going to tell us anything about the T-Virus. And no use hoping that they'll mention Birkin. All his work, going to Hell. Such a shame."
"Good, and I hope he goes to Hell with his work!" another scientist snapped. "I was at Arkely for a few weeks, filling in for this guy who's wife died. Birkin's brutal. His fault for staying there."
"What do you mean, he's staying there?" a first scientist said, amazed.
"This is Umbrella! Birkin would be in Paris on a golden helicopter if he wanted out. He doesn't, he's not letting his work die."
"Fool." most of the scientists muttered. But a few nodded slowly.
There appeared to be a knot of a dozen or so people who weren't scientists, but keeping up with the news. They all seemed to be Umbrella Special Forces, by the look of them.
"This is bad."
"We're going to be sent in, you know that?"
"Pah! How bad can it be?"
"It's a big fucking city, you idiot!" they chattered among themselves. Cora crept closer to the knot.
"Um, excuse me." she said shyly. A couple of people grinned in amusement, a few people raised eyebrows. "Anyone mind fillin me in on what the hell is going on?"
"Aren't you Dinzali's pet?" one said mockingly.
"Hey, lay off the kid." a second said. He had been the one who had prediced that they would be sent in. "It's not her fault that Dinzali's a loon." he turned towards Cora, brushing longish hair out of his face. He was like a more musclar, more handsome, less greasy version of Salven. "Hey, I'm Carlos Oliveria."
"Cora Merandez." she said shortly.
"Anyway, the scientists have a really bad habit of not sleeping. They slip up, make mistakes. You follow me? The T-Virus, it'll shatter, and infection occurs."
"They turn into zombies." Cora said slowly.
"Right. Well, this is basically happening on a city-wide level. The S.T.A.R.S. fucked things up at Arkley. Now Raccoon is pretty much hopeless. We just gotta hope that anyone who isn't infected isn't eaten alive or slaughtered."
"And what, the Special Forces clean up this stuff?" Cora said. Carlos nodded. So, this was wiping doo doo off Umbrella's shoe. Cora felt a bit cold.
Whenever Cora was in her other side, the one that was christened Angel by her, she was eternally grateful to Umbrella. She knew that she would either be rotting on Death Row or else rotting six feet under if not for Turn and White. She was convinced that her Father (the pompous old fool!) really had had his head swelled so far that he had crashed.
Both sides despised each other because they both knew that either side had grains of truth hidden in them, but as the months, and then the years passed, the sides began to mix together. It was as if Cora had strings neatly attached to her arms and legs, and Umbrella was making her dance to the tune that they wished. Not even Rebel was immune to the jerky dance of the marionette.
So Cora advanced quickly. Her aim with the Glock improved, and she began to work on working with a sniper rifle. She learned how to be flexible, how to swing from rod to rod and how to keep out of sight. She learned how to slit throats and she learned how to rappel down the side of a building.
Altogether, Cora was usually too worn out to question Umbrella's morals any more than she could go out and have a time on the town. She did get days off, in which she explored Paris eagerly, but there were days when she forgot that there was a world outside of Umbrella's headquarters, days when she forgot Mexico even existed except on a blob on a map.
Then one day, everything went to hell.
Cora woke up to shouting, screams, and cries for calm. She went rigid underneath her blankets. An outbreak, that was the only thing that she could think of. There was an outbreak. She got up, silently, and tucked her Glock behind her belt. She grabbed her duffel bag with her sniper rifle and swung it over her shoulder, and hid her knives about her.
Then she crept silently outside her door. The halls were empty. A scientist was running down the hall with a portable radio tucked beneath his arm. He spotted Cora.
"Do you have any news on Raccoon?" he blurted. Cora blinked.
"I was about to ask YOU if you had any news." she said, confused. "Is there an Outbreak? What's going on?"
"There's an outbreak, all right. But not here. In Raccoon City, in America."
Cora nodded slowly and strode down the hall. She didn't know where she was going. She had never gone to this part of the headquarters before - it was where the labs were.
Surprise struck Cora as she entered one of the lab. There were quite a few TVs on, and everyone was gathered around them while trying to do as much work as possible. There were test tubes, and blood samples, and microscopes, and machines that Cora didn't even want to try to understand. But there were no cages with giant beasts within, or zombies, or anything else like that.
"Raccoon City is under seige by the Cannibal Disease." one reporter informed all the scientists.
"You idiot, it's the T-Virus! Not the Cannibal Disease! The T-Virus!"
"This is useless." another scientist groaned. "They're not going to tell us anything about the T-Virus. And no use hoping that they'll mention Birkin. All his work, going to Hell. Such a shame."
"Good, and I hope he goes to Hell with his work!" another scientist snapped. "I was at Arkely for a few weeks, filling in for this guy who's wife died. Birkin's brutal. His fault for staying there."
"What do you mean, he's staying there?" a first scientist said, amazed.
"This is Umbrella! Birkin would be in Paris on a golden helicopter if he wanted out. He doesn't, he's not letting his work die."
"Fool." most of the scientists muttered. But a few nodded slowly.
There appeared to be a knot of a dozen or so people who weren't scientists, but keeping up with the news. They all seemed to be Umbrella Special Forces, by the look of them.
"This is bad."
"We're going to be sent in, you know that?"
"Pah! How bad can it be?"
"It's a big fucking city, you idiot!" they chattered among themselves. Cora crept closer to the knot.
"Um, excuse me." she said shyly. A couple of people grinned in amusement, a few people raised eyebrows. "Anyone mind fillin me in on what the hell is going on?"
"Aren't you Dinzali's pet?" one said mockingly.
"Hey, lay off the kid." a second said. He had been the one who had prediced that they would be sent in. "It's not her fault that Dinzali's a loon." he turned towards Cora, brushing longish hair out of his face. He was like a more musclar, more handsome, less greasy version of Salven. "Hey, I'm Carlos Oliveria."
"Cora Merandez." she said shortly.
"Anyway, the scientists have a really bad habit of not sleeping. They slip up, make mistakes. You follow me? The T-Virus, it'll shatter, and infection occurs."
"They turn into zombies." Cora said slowly.
"Right. Well, this is basically happening on a city-wide level. The S.T.A.R.S. fucked things up at Arkley. Now Raccoon is pretty much hopeless. We just gotta hope that anyone who isn't infected isn't eaten alive or slaughtered."
"And what, the Special Forces clean up this stuff?" Cora said. Carlos nodded. So, this was wiping doo doo off Umbrella's shoe. Cora felt a bit cold.
