When Cora woke up, the room was empty. An odd sort of comfort that had seized her faded away. Cora got to her feet wearily and trudged into the bathroom.
Cora had always been a small woman - only slightly above average height, and thin. But now she looked like she had been through a wringer. The only thing truly alive about her were her eyes, filled with sorrow and pain. The eyes of a killer.
She remembered how she had growled 'way to see me up for the night', and there was a painful twist in her stomach.
"This is all my fault." she whispered. "All my fault, all my fault, all my fault." she continued the chant before letting out a weak sob. "Oh, God. I killed him."
She made her way back to the bed and flopped down, staring into space. Her stomach growled at her, but she ignored it.
"I'm sorry." she said. Like it would matter. No doubt the corpse was cleaned up by now. Hopefully, given a proper burial or cremation. Knowing Umbrella, it was more likely that Hulio was filled with T-Virus for a second time or else dumped in a ditch somewhere.
"I hate you I hate you I hate you." Cora whispered. She didn't know whether she was speaking to Umbrella, her life, or herself.

"Merandez won't be in any shape to go on any mission." Scythe said, lounging in his chair. "She's broken."
"No. She's bent." White responded. Turnbull nodded.
"That's bullshit and we both know it." Scythe growled. "You did leave a guard on her room? She's in bad condition. Suicide isn't out of the question."
"Merandez isn't going to kill herself." Turn said.
"She might."
"She's only here because of her mother and sister, and they're only here because of Cora. Cut one leg of the tripod off, and the thing falls over. Cora knows, subconciosusly or not, that if she goes - so does Amy and Laine." White spat the names of Cora's sister and Mother. "Not that I'm arguing against it. The Merandez family are a drain on us. Not Cora, but she's too soft. I say we slaughter Amy and Laine."
"No!" Scythe snapped. "The girl hasn't eaten, she hasn't even lefther room!"
"How do you know this?" Turn asked softly.
"I have Tweek making sure that she doesn't slit her throat. He's been watching her door and using the radios to report since lunch."
"Resourceful as always." Turn said. "Give Merandez a week."
"A week?" interjeced White angrily. "That's too much."
"A week." Turn responded defiantly. "We want to mold her, not break her. She's no use to us if she's dead. Give her a week. Then you are taking her out on a mission."
"What if there is no mission?" Scythe asked sarcastically. "Sorry, I can't pull an Outbreak out of my pocket."
"Yes. But I can." White said. "I'll send out the orders."
"You sick bastards!" Scythe growled.
"Hey, be a sick bastard and you can get promoted too!" White jested. Scythe glared.
"Fine." he spat. "But only if Cora is ready at the end of the week."
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hunter."
"Go to hell."
Scythe headed outside and exhaled. Dealing with Turn and White wasn't good. They weren't too high up that they declined dabbling their fingers under ordered, but high up enough that they were dangerous.
Scythe didn't like playing with lives. He was no puppet master, just a man who made a few bad decisions.
"I'm sorry, Cora." he said. "But at least I let you recover a bit."
Like that would do any good, Cora wasn't even there to hear it.

Ruben Salven straighened his hair and shifted the flowers in his hand before he glanced both ways down the hall. If anyone saw him here, it could end up very messily. He still remembered what happened last time someone had said to Lydia:
"You like those flowers that Ruben got you?"
"What flowers?" Lydia had responded. Lydia was a very smart woman, and it did not take her long to very nearly scalp the young scientist with the bouquet of wildflowers on her desk. Then, she had moved onto Salven. Bad memories there - bad memories including a frying pan and pain. The making up had been fantastic though.
Salven headed around the corner to Cora Merandez's room. There was a man leaning aganist the wall, shuffling a deck of cards. He spotted Salven quickly.
"Who are you?" the man demanded. He was armed - Salven was too, but shooting USF officers was dangerous.
The man glanced at Salven's identification card and frowned.

Ruben Robert Salven Umbrella Inc. Badass 4 Life

"I don't think those are the type that we usually get." Tweek said dryly. He wasn't wearing one - USF and UBSC soldiers rarely did. They considered themselves above it, for some reason.
Smug jerks. Salven hated his tag, although it was much better after he had asked that young woman who he often went out with on Thursdays to alter it. She had smiled, gushing that anything that she could do for her boyfriend was not enough.
"No." Salven said, casually putting a hand on his gun holster.
"So, how are your nuts doing? I hear that Lydia hit you with a frying pan."
"How the hell do you know that?" Salven's ears turned red.
"Lydia told everyone."
"Look, Mr. Guard. It's OK if I go in and see Merandez, right?"
"What, with your reputation?" Tweek scowled. "Don't do anything."
"I'll try not to." Salven assured the guard and strode inside suavely.