When Cora woke up, it was oddly similar to her first awakening. She was staring at the white ceiling. Except this time, there was something wrapped around her leg, waist, and some sort of odd thing around her neck. Also, there was a cast on her arm. Cora suspected that the things around her leg and waist were bandages.
"Oh, you're awake." a voice said. It was Linda, the nurse of yore. "Feeling better?"
"Yes." Cora was certainly more well rested.
"That's a surprise. You lost a lot of blood. Not only that, but you were shot in the leg. You also pulled two muscles in your neck, and your arm is broken. You also broke a rib."
"How am I still alive?" Cora demanded.
"You ask me." Linda asked. "There were four notes left for you."
"I don't want to read them."
"Too bad, all four people who left them said that they were 'urgent'. I'm not about to turn down a USF leader, supervisor and high- ranking pilot in one day. Oh, and that other young man."
Scythe, Turnbull, Hulio. Cora was surprised and pleased at two out of three of those names. The 'other young man' confused her. White? Foxx? Tweek? Reeve? Cobra? Maybe even Best? Turnbull though left her feeling sick.
"Can you give them to me" Cora asked.
"Okay." the nurse handed Cora a small pile of papers. The one from Scythe was on top.

Cora,
You took a lot of bumps, I know. The nurse says you'll probably be awake by tomorrow morning. That's amazing, kid. You're made out of sterner stuff than I thought - that has to set a record for toughest rookie ever. All the others have made a pact to slug the next guy who says that you're a spic who can't do anything to save her life. You stood up to Wesker, that's impressive. However, Best is shooting off a story that you disobeyed direct orders ad lead him into danger. We'll see what he says when he finds out your awake.
Anyway, if you don't get better soon, I'll sic Ada on you.
-Scythe.

"That's very nice of him." Cora said.
"He doesn't talk like I thought a USF leader would." Linda sniffed. "He uses such brutish language."

"You read my letters?" Cora was disgusted. Linda didn't answer.
"Dear Cora,
Maybe you should get into the pilot business? It's much safer. Anyway, I'll be stopping by later with chocolates and an idea that you won't be able to resist. I can't say more in this note, but it's dangerous, but it'll be worth it.
Love,
James.

The one from Turnbull was, predictably, not as comradely as sharpish. Cora was sure that there was manipulation behind the words.

Merandez,
I'm sorry to hear about your injuries, although I am glad that you've given up trying to insult us subtly when the mood takes you! Umbrella has been kind to you, and maybe if you try to work off this kindness, such accidents won't happen in future.
Your mother and Amelia are well, although they have not been allowed to see you.
Here's hoping you get better in future.
-Gabriel Turnbull.

P.S. I have asked around and stopped the racial slurs circulating about you. Umbrella is a family. Hopefully, you haven't been put off by these jerks.

He knew that Cora had been insulting them. Damn. Not that unexpected though, and not the thing that once would have sent chills down Cora's spine. The rest was confusing. It was kindness, cheerful even ... yet there was an underlying message saying that Cora was lacking something important.
Cora scowled and turned to the fourth, mysterious note.

Merandez! I heard you were hurt. That sucks, eh? Umbrella got me a new computer though. It was meant for you, but not like you can type with that busted arm though. Ha. I've been through three missions and without a single scratch. By the way, who's this Hulio who's bragging around about getting a night out with you? I asked, and you turned me down rudely. What does he have that I don't? And if you say ' not a wife', I swear to God I'll hurt you, cripple or no.
-Salven

Cora didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the fourth note. The others had been written with poise and elegance. The third was crudeness, hostility, and lust slapped together into a paragraph.
Linda said that Turnbull had left strict orders that Cora be loaded into a wheelchair and carted around if she wanted to go anywhere.
"Bullshit." Cora insisted.
"It's the rules. Would you rather lie in bed all day?"
"Fine. I'll take the wheelchair." Cora muttered. Linda fussed over blankets and pillows for so long that Cora wanted to scream. But she had to admit; it was comfortable, warm, and cozy.
"Alright, where do you want to go?"
"Where's Team Biohazard?"
"Playing pool and making a ruckus is what I've heard." Linda sniffed.
"Ok, where would they do that?"
"The Gaming Hall." Linda admitted reluctantly, as if saying the words would corrupt Cora.
"That's where we're heading then." Cora demanded. Linda muttered under her breath, but pushed Cora down to the Gaming Hall. Even injured, Cora never got a break.