The facility exploded behind Cora as she swung herself up into the helicopter. Her face did not change even as a piece of shrapnel landed dangerously close to the chopper.
The helicopter lifted up into the sky, over the island.
"It's too bad." Cora said. "I liked it there. Cool, balmy, long grasses."
"Zombie infected." added Scythe. "Oh, the perfect dream resort.
"Could be worse. I could have to live with you." Cora said, and then turned to look out the window. She ignored the laughter and sighed, resting a hand on her chin. Part of her, her heart was numb inside, as if there was just nothing there - or as if someone had replaced it with a stone while she slept.
Her stomach still had that clenched fist within, but it was dulled, somehow. Leaning her head against the pane of glass, Cora closed her eyes. She had never smoked, but somehow she thought a chemical dependency could help her.
The others chatted and bantered merrily between them. Cora was the youngest and the smallest, so she often went unnoticed when she didn't speak up.
"So, there's a new team member coming in?"
"Not new. The guy's been with Umbrella since forever." Scythe hesitated. "I wish it was Hunk, but it isn't."
"Who is it then?"
"Some guy called Hojo."
"He a Jap?"
"Nah, unless he's a Jap in disguise."
"Yeah, they're all shrewd."
"No, it's just that anyone can outwit you, Foxx"
"Your mom can't."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"What the hell do you mean?"
More laughter. Cora wished that they would shut up. Her head was pounding, and the marks felt odd. She rubbed at them irritably. Why did she need to slice a bit of her arm away every time she killed someone? She was guilty, wasn't she? Why be guilty? You didn't see Turnbull striding around with a tic tac toe board on his arm. You didn't see Salven sawing his arm away.
The chopper landed in Paris, and Cora jolted out of her thoughts. Oh, here they were, back in the killing fields. She waited until everyone else got out before she climbed out, not in the extravagant fashion that she usually got in with all the nimbleness of an acrobat, but more in a tired stumble.
"Merandez." Turnbull was waiting.
"What?" Cora asked. Sarcastic comments ran through her mind, as well as the idea of saluting, but she just stood there instead.
"One of your father's former associates just made a large contribution to Umbrella."
"And?" was Cora supposed to be impressed? Or was she supposed to be sad at her father's death? She just felt ... nothing.
"Well, he seemed very interesting with meeting you. You do know that once your mother dies, you will be inheriting his money and business?"
"Wouldn't Umbrella get it? I'm just a lowly soldier." Cora managed to scrounge up enough sarcasm to inject into the last two words.
"Yes." Turnbull said softly. "I believe that they would."
Well, what the hell was that supposed to mean? Cora stared at him blankly.
"Right. Umbrella will be choosing your attire for this, as well as sending in a woman to help you with other matters." Turnbull reached out, fingering a length of hair that was a bit slimy with blood and zombie matter. "You are a pretty woman, Cora, and we'll expect you to represent Umbrella to the fullest."
"And you'll be bugging me, right? You know, just in case I screw up?"
"Of course not. We'll have it like a party. White will probably be listening in, and then he can shoot you. Much faster."
"That's a joke, right?" Cora asked.
"Maybe."
"Real comforting there, Turnbull."
The rest of Team Biohazard was eyeing Turnbull distastefully.
"Hey." Cobra said suddenly. "I recognize you, but your hair was longer then..."
"Well, Cora." Turnbull sketched a mocking bow. "I will see you at the party. It'll be tonight."
"I can hardly wait."
"Excellent, Cora." Turnbull turned and strode away.
"Are we invited?" Tweek asked.
"Nah, but you can come anyway."
"Sweet." Tweek said. "I have this jacket that I can wear."
"I'm not coming." Scythe said. "I've already pissed Turn and White off, and I'm going to wait until Team Biohazard is off the shit-list."
"We can still go right, Scythe?"
"If you shoot anyone, I'll be pissed."
"On a scale of one to ten, how pissed?"
"Seven." Scythe said, and then paused. "Point five."
"Tsk." Tweek shook his head. "You're getting old."
"And you're in the bloom of youth?"
Cora didn't say another word; she just headed away from the helipad. As appealing as banter with her teammates had been before, it was faded now. She wanted some sleep before Turn's assistant came to pretty her up. God, why wasn't anything simple? And of course, she wouldn't have a chaperone for the date. Hulio was dead. She would consider Tweek, Foxx, Scythe, Cobra or Reeve - except they wouldn't do anything right. There was only one other possiblity that she could think of - and she did owe him a favour. Maybe he would shut up afterwards.