The lurching of the mobiles stopped, jerking Cora out of a fitful sleep. To her surprise, when the backdoor slid open, clear, bright sunlight slid through. Cora had to shield her eyes.
"Ow." she complained.
"What?" Alanna jerked out of her sleep. "Gabe?"
"Gabriel Turnbull isn't coming." Cora said grimly. "We have to get out of here ourselves."
Alanna looked like she was about to cry - but only for a second. She wrapped herself in the icy calm of a pupper master that occupied her brother so often.
"What do you want?" she snapped at Watts, who was making his way inside the vehicle.
"We're stuck. We're having the soldiers and the scientist prisoners push us out of the mud."
"I thought they were dead!" Cora protested.
"I lied. Now, come on out."
"In my pajamas?"
"We have new attire for you both." Watts dropped two armfuls full of white cloth. Baggy white sweatsuits with the HCF logo looming large on the left shoulder.
"I can't wear this." Cora blurted.
"Why not?"
"Too noticable."
"That's the point. We can't have you running away, now can we? Suit up and get shoving. We don't have much time to waste."
"Alright, alright." Cora said. "Touchy."

"What the HELL do you mean Team Biohazard isn't going to be allowed out there?!" Scythe demanded.
"We're sending out Delta Team."
"Delta Team didn't lose anyone! We lost two members!"
"So?"
"So we want revenge, White you imbecile!"
Gregory White stood up, puffing at his cigar. He gave a slow, condescending smile to the furious commander, then turned to look out the window, still puffing away. He counted the time it would take the hasty young man to explode with puffs of his cigar. Puff. Puff. Puff. Puff. Puff.
"Well?" Scythe asked sternly.
"Sorry. My decision stands."
"That's bullshit!"
"And why? Your team is crippled without the two.soldiers. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it."
"Delta Team is just so goddamn healthy then, eh? Talbot, Best... a regular group of fit, healthy soldiers."
"Jealous, Hunter?"
Scythe ignored the use of his real name. It was supposed to press buttons, to make him mad, to make him make a mistake.
"Fuck you." Scythe snapped.
/Whatever happened to being calm and under control?/ He asked himself scornfully. /You're acting like they killed your firstborn./
"Anyways, it's too late now." White spoke calmly, adjusting the picture frame on his desk. It was a picture of Alanna Turnbull. When her brother saw this picture, he frowned for a split second, then passed him a look that promised hard words for later. "We've already sent out Delta Team. They'll be bringing your men ... pardon, man and woman back any day now."
"And I wasn't told?" Scythe said. He could be as mockingly calm as White.
"No." Turnbull said. "Now, this meeting is over. If you will be so kind to leave...?"
"Just hope that Delta don't get killed." Scythe said, then made his departure. Two seconds after he left, both men broke into shouts at each other.
"Why do you have my sister on your desk?!"
"Why are you being such a moron?!"
The two men stared at eachother, then White grinned.
"Alanna's a very pretty, clever girl."
"Who's half your age!"
"So? Dinzali's older than you" White sat down, waving away Turnbull's grumbles that she preferred to be called 'Talbot'. It was all foolishness anyways. "Don't look so mad. I'm not sending Delta on a suicide mission. You'll get your redhead back. Besides, Alanna seems a bit afraid of me. It's fun to toy with her. Hopefully, she comes back alive too."
Turnbull looked like he wanted to hit the older man, but instead stalked out. White grinned. Gabriel was pretty enough for a girl - he needed to be toyed with, a little. Just to deflate his ego.
The door slammed hard enough to make ash flutter down from White's cigarette. He chuckled. Fun to play with, indeed.

Cora groaned, dropping to her knees. Wesker was there before she could rally her courage, a small smile on his face.
"Is anything wrong, Miss Merandez?" his voice was sickly sweet. A hand landed on her shoulder.
"Get off of me!" Cora snarled, jerking to her feet. She ached all over - but the training she had had before... An andreneline rush soared through her, she lunged at Wesker...
and found herself lying in the snow, gasping for breath. Her head was ringing, and although she knew that Alanna was screaming , it sounded like a whisper. Her neck felt weak, she moved her head through the icy snow to rest it on her shoulder. When she moved it away, a light dab of blood stained the white cloth. Everything looked odd, as if she was watching an old movie reel instead of her life.
Wesker's lips moved as he hauled her to her feet, but nothing came out. She tilted her head at him curiously. Was he speaking to her? What should she say?
"Goddamnit!" Wesker cursed, but it came through as a whisper. Suddenly, another imprisoned Umbrella soldier darted towards her, catching her before she fell. His hood fell back.
It was Cobra.
"What are you doing?" Cobra shouted, coming faintly through the layer of wool in her head. "She has a concussion."
Oh. So THAT was what was wrong with her. Secure in this knowledge, her vision faded to a starry, dancing curtain.