Cindy walked over to the desk across from Alyssa's, leaning against the wood top, watching the young reporter work.
"So…what were you and Yoko talking about," Cindy asked, trying to be nonchalant, her fingers stroking an ornate picture frame, the image of a perfect family within the photograph. Her touch seemed to linger on the faces of the children for just an extra moment.
"Leave the snooping to the professionals, Cin," suggested Alyssa, one hawkish eye on Cindy.
"It's a simple question, Alyssa," Cindy said.
"Just because it comes from a simple mind doesn't make it a simple question."
"You really think that you're so much better than me, don't you?"
"I thought that much was obvious."
"What, just because I wait tables to pay my bills? For all your big talk, you're in the same boat as the rest of us, miss hot shot reporter," shot back Cindy, blood rushing to her face. Alyssa laughed, infuriating her even more.
"You think that's why I don't like you? Because of your job? Get real, Cindy. In a situation like this, I don't give a shit if you turned tricks for quarters."
"Then what's your problem?"
"You really want to know? People like you…women like you…you can't do a damn thing for yourself. All you can do is fill this role men expect us to; subservient, weak, needy. You're too concerned about being cute and feminine to spend a few minutes just being…just being human. You set the rest of us so far back we have to work twice as hard to earn respect from men, menI shouldn't have to give a damn about. But you get away with it because you flash that stupid smile and you think that's the way it's supposed to be."
"You think you know me, just because you came into J's bar a few times a week? Why don't you ask yourself why you're so concerned about getting respect from men you really don't give a damn about. Tell me, who's really playing into a role here?"
"I used to watch you, every once in awhile at the bar. You couldn't do a damn thing on your own; it was always 'Will, can you do this; Will, can you do that'. God, it made me sick. Just because that lovesick fool wanted to be your tool…you didn't have to abuse the poor schmuck."
Cindy thought over the words, slowly coming to a realization. "You think it's my fault Will died, don't you?"
"Honestly? Probably not; but I think your helpless routine certainly didn't help increase his chances at survival."
Cindy fumed. "You were there. I didn't see you jump to his rescue."
"True enough. But then…why should I risk my life for your tool? Doesn't make much sense, now does it?"
"Is there anyone you'd risk your life for? Anyone you care about besides yourself?"
"You got me there, Cindy. I'm a selfish bitch, all right. But that's me. One hundred percent me. You…you're all an act, a show to impress the guys to make your life easier. I see right through you. Cheerleader, right? How many of your friends' boyfriends did you steal, huh?"
"I had a feeling this was about George," Cindy said. "It must eat you up inside that he prefers me over you, doesn't it?"
"It's nothing that petty," scoffed Alyssa, tossing her hair back. "I just don't like you."
The generator room was surprisingly newer than the rest of the building, as if it had been recently refinished. Still, it was as full of darkness and shadows as it was new equipment. Feeling partly relieved that it wasn't the boiler room in her nightmares, Yoko walked confidently through the steel door. The beam of George's flashlight cut a swath through the gloom, darting back and forth quickly. He seemed unusually nervous.
"Didn't you check this area already," Yoko asked, not bothering to whisper.
"Yeah, Jim and I gave it a once over earlier…still, no harm in being cautious," he replied, pausing. "Although, to be honest…I'm more nervous about Cindy and Alyssa being together in the same room," he reluctantly admitted. Yoko laughed but felt guilty for it immediately.
"I got the feeling you didn't want to be in there," she noted. "But you'd be much more useful down here, anyway," she added, trying to make him feel better. He gave her a half smile and she realized he didn't need her encouragement; he was doing just fine as it was. Probably one of the reasons why the other girls went crazy for him, she thought.
The main backup generator sat at the far end of the basement. Yoko was somewhat disappointed there wasn't an elaborately huge printing press down there like she had pictured; but then again, such an operation wasted valuable space. The Raccoon City Press was nothing if not carefully budgeted. Still, all these advancements…she wondered if Umbrella's majority share had something to do with the new equipment. It appeared, however, as if they backup generator was a bit older than the rest of the hardware, almost an antique. George set his flashlight atop a stack of blank paper, which spilled across the floor. He cursed, handing Yoko the other light. He knelt by the main circuit unit, and she turned her light over his shoulder as he withdrew his Swiss army knife. They began to work.