Chapter Text
Iron and sweat; what a bitter taste.
Jill was hunched over on palms and knees, lips parted, panting, her good arm clawing for purchase on the mat floor. The air buzzed around her ears, the whole room spinning as the pain ate at her. It pulsated throughout her body like a live creature, deep and biting, consuming all attention and sight. The only thing breaking the haze was Wesker’s sharp jabs.
“Come on Valentine, you’re better than this.” A blurred figure stalked towards her, evil eyes leering from the blackened mass. The figure blurred in and out of her swimming sight, until finally it reached her, yanking by the shoulder onto knees. Just the touch snapped everything back into sharp agonising focus.
Jill’s scream was buried, barely letting a sharp gasp. Wesker never liked her pained bitching.
“I- I-”
“It’s just dislocated.”
He snapped it back ignoring the pulled cry and then dragged her to unstable feet with the arm. Jill stumbled, head pounding, throat raw from drinking back the blood and spit that pooled in her mouth. She gazed up at him through rueful tears seeking mercy in his shaded eyes. There was nothing but disappointment.
Fuck he couldn’t want to go for another round, hadn’t he beaten her enough?
“One minute, then back to your stance.”
Jill steeled herself with a nod, it was the best he’d give. Jill tested rotating her shoulder, hissing at the torrent of stabs running from her back and into her neck. She rolled it again and again and again until it became tolerable- ignorable.
Staggering to the back wall, Jill leaned into the cool vinyl wall taking a breath, trying to draw back up her will as Wesker strutted to the back of the sparring room. It been clear for everything but a simple tech set up in the back left corner; a laptop with a camera attachment blinking at her. Wesker typed furiously, presumably over her performance, or lack of performance more like.
It was her monthly check to see how the P-30 was integrating into her system and to document the advancement in her physiology. They’d done a physical, the usual sorts of endurance and strength tests, and while not her best work they’d been satisfactory. But the sparing simulation was just an embarrassment.
Usually Jill could hold her own against Wesker nowadays. While she had struggled in the beginning, especially after being dragged through gait training in half the recommended time. But with the P-30 it not only increased her recovery and muscle mass, it also granted her superhuman agility and flexibility. The power her body now welded was nothing like she’d ever felt before, like there was no force, not gravity or her own body’s constraints could stop her. To be so above human capability… Jill hated to say she could see why Wesker was so addicted to it.
To her it was nothing but a silver collar choking her, reminding her all that she’s lost in the face of his seeking perfection. It just made her feel pathetic.
These tests and trainings were only to accelerate that. And as consequence the only time she was allowed full control to cause as much damage to Wesker as she could. Nothing was off the proverbial table, he’d even said if she could figure a way to kill him in this room she was more than welcome to.
Which pissed her off even more now that she was doing such a piss poor job. This was her only catharsis and he was beating her to a pulp.
Her vision was clearing and consolidating, zeroing on Wesker as he walked back to the middle of the room. Jill took a solid breath, hoping the air and anger would help rejuvenate her aching muscles just slightly. She pushed off the wall, doing her damndest to hide the tremors in her step she got in position. Wesker, despite the frown, nodded in approval.
The calm was deadly. Jill sized Wesker up, seething at his cool demeanor (he hadn’t even broken sweat), Wesker obviously already calculating her move before she made it.
Jill’s buzzing mind silenced, letting instinct and training take over. The more she thought, the more predictable. So Jill just let her body take it where it’s rage went.
She jetted off, rushing to his right, but feinted at the last second trying to get a solid kick into his left. Wesker dodged both the faux and the real hit, her boot’s tip barely missing, as she finished the roundhouse and she leaned back, anticipating Wesker’s strike.
Jill went with the motion, handstanding up and over narrowly avoiding Wesker’s charge at her.
Once boots hit floor, she kicked off, her good shoulder out to tackle.
It was a mistake, using his own move, he caught her by the arm, nails biting through thick fabric and slung her like an angry cat across the room. Jill went flying and wasn’t able to get in better position before she hit, hard. Her limbs splayed, head banged, tongue torn through.
More blood. Beautiful.
Jill spat it, making to stand and then needing to roll and dodge right as Wesker flashed at her. She could keep up with the sight of his speed now that she had a trained eye, but even then sometimes it was like he blurred into thin air and reappeared with it suited him.
Made to roll back a few times before she got enough distance to roll into a stand, a series of jabs came shooting at her, Jill jerked to the side, until she got a good shot to block Wesker’s arm. Taking the chance, Jill locked it with her other, turning on heel so her back was to him.
She meant to throw him, or at least strain his arm with the pull, but a hit to her back left her prone before she could execute.
And immediately after was kicked in her side sending her sprawling. “My disappointment is mounting, Valentine.”
Jill growled at his fucking idignant tone. Damn him if he thinks she’s here to impress him. She’s just here to get one good hit in.
She stayed down, letting herself shiver visibly. If she could bait him, maybe she could get something in. She didn’t care how dirty it was, she just wanted a win. Wesker grunted in near disgust, she could feel the shadow of him over her, his shining boots coming to view.
“And here I thought we were making progress,” She could tell he was readying a punishing kick. “Yet you continue to be nothing but useless. Even with all that self righteous rage, all the disgusting pity for supposed innocence driving you and still you can’t land a scratch, much less actually stop me.” He laughed, cold, cruel, true. Then he bent down, lips ghosting the shell of her ear. “Is all that blood truly on my hands?”
Jill gritted, fist against the floor. Then she struck.
Wesker was caught off, but still leaned back in time. He shot up as Jill chased, sending a flurry of hits and punches at him, each dodged or blocked in his inhuman way. Jill threw a final frustrated kick and Wesker caught her thigh. Smirking, eyes shining. “What now-”
Jill grabbed his neck to stabilize and with the other leg kneeing him in the crotch.
Wesker let go with a mute grunt as he stumbled back. Now who was laughing, fucker.
Jill didn’t waste a second, going after another kick to send him sliding, but before she could even process she hit the ground, her head rattling as it rebounded off the mat. Wesker was over her, gritted teeth, knee grinding into her hurt shoulder pulling a truly pitiful whine from her. He dug deeper.
“Dirty,” He spat, “But better. I think we’re done today, go clean up.”
He released his knee, the pain still hot and growing in Jill’s shoulder as she rolled onto her side. She tenderly touched it and winced, but she could roll it so she’d have to take it.
Jill peeled herself off the mat and walked to the back of the sparring room, pushing past the cool metal door in the back corner.
Leaving the heat and lights of the sparring room, Jill was enveloped in a dingy cold of the gray tiles lined shower room. The light always was dim and threatening to go out, draining Jill’s mood. The P-30 whirled late, or perhaps not, but instead of exciting it repressed, just adding to her burning eyes.
Jill sat bare-ass on the metal benches, not chancing it as she forced the suit off. The sweat quickly froze to her skin, sending further shivers. Every inch of her ached and whined with movement, it was a wonder she was even upright. The suit stripped off, was battered in blood, black seepage especially around Wesker’s favourite spots; shoulders, back, stomach, even some dribble from her split lip and bit tongue had hit her chest.
Jill flung it like the insult it was, landing in a crumpled heep in front of her designated locker. She’d need to launder it before the chores she had tomorrow, but for now that wasn’t much of a thought as Jill dragged her sorry beaten ass to the shower, relishing the idea of warmth massaging her muscles.
Jill stayed straight long enough to point the spray nozzle her way and to turn the water on, not even having the energy to close the curtain, before laying up against the wall. It spurted cold, but grew to a nice warmth in a minute causing a baited sigh to fall from her lips.
Then after a few precious moments of respite, Jill pushed off, wanting to get clean as fast she could. She rubbed the scentless antibacterial soap bar into a lather and carefully brushed it down her bruised body taking great strides in washing out any cuts or wounds. She hadn’t any shampoo here so she made do with letting the water run through her hair to get the smell and feel of sweat and training mat dirt out.
After the managing was done, Jill just let herself relax in the shower, hugging her breast as the water beat down on her back. She swore she could have fallen asleep like that, feeling like a fat lazy cat laying in a sunspot. Jill's eyes fluttered open briefly as she made to roll forward, that was until she noticed faded red run down her inner thigh.
Her throat constricted, the steam suddenly miasmic and choking.
No. No, she must be hallucinating.
Jill hesitantly cupped herself, parting her labia and felt a thick moisture. It wasn’t in abundance, but as she pulled her fingers away, slightly stickied and brownish-red. She inhaled.
Mentally running through the fight all over, she tried to think if Wesker got a direct kick in her groin and if so would that had been enough to make her bleed. She didn’t think so on either account, which brought up the next, possibly even more worrisome option.
Jill hadn’t had a period in over three years, hell it probably was well before the Spencer Manor incident if Jill tracked it correctly. Through her adult life Jill had never been timely, what with the stress and strain of the Army and Delta Force during her early years and then later on the near constant action that came with dealing with Umbrella and joining the B.S.A.A.. But since she’s woken here, it’s been gone completely.
Jill had no symptoms, no P.M.S., cramping, mood swings, craving, none of it. Wesker had mentioned it was likely due to the experiments and the bodily trauma; that she’d likely be infertile and while that initially had sunk like a stone in her stomach, Jill had become grateful for small miracles, horrific as that gratitude was.
But now. Now what did this mean? Was she not- Could they-
The door opened, Jill looked up as Wesker ripped his shirt overhead. God not now.
“You look frightened.” He said it near playfully. Damn threat that it was.
“I’m bleeding.” He looked at her like she was stupid. “Period.”
Wesker nodded, something shifted in his gaze. He looked back towards the door like he was contemplating leaving, but his shirt fell with her battlesuit and soon after his pants dropped. “Has there been any of the usual symptoms? Cramping, mood shifts, fatigue?”
“I have been feeling… off.” He raised a brow, prompting her to continue. Jill sighed, she hadn’t taken much stock in her body, what was the point in worrying about symptoms she’d be forced to power through, but that didn’t mean she was completely naive to them. “A slight fatigue. And not quite cramping, but there has been minor lower body muscle strain.”
“So cramping.”
“This isn’t how it usually feels.” Jill snapped. Bastard thinking he knew her body better than her. Like she was one of his viral cultured freaks. “It’s usually piercing, this, it’s dull, barely there.”
Wesker didn’t say anything else, just hummed. He pulled the curtain to the shower next to her, Jill sighed in relief. “Since when did your menstruous start again?”
“Just now.”
“Often after going so long without a cycle there’s bound to be changes. I’ll note it in today’s report and I’ll give you a pass. This time.” Oh fantastic, she’d still get a good grade. “If there’s further concern you know where to find me, but by next month I expect this won’t affect your performance.”
“Understood.” Jill sighed, “I’ll get it under wraps.”
“Good.”
—
Jill rubbed her eyes, boredly watch the mess of a transport team (Majini since Excella found them more expendable) fight with Lickers. Jill shifted against the steel wall trying to find a comfortable spot, safe behind bullet-glass. She was just glad instruction was just to come down here and not to also assist.
It seemed Irving might not have lost his touch, shocker that was, as an order for Lickers came in late last night, or at the least Jill hadn’t been informed until Wesker told her this morning after she dragged herself to his lab.
“Morning sunshine, perky as always I see.” Irving shouted, coming for down the end of the hall. Great, just what she needed.
If Jill wasn’t so exhausted, she would have glared back, maybe even bit his head off, but she barely managed to get out of bed despite the morning’s jolt, attempting any excursion of emotion was out of the question.
“The beasts sure are uppity today.” Irving said. The Majini were struggling in getting them tamed, sedated, and stuffed into the cages. “Gonna be one hella a ride.”
Jill grunted.
“You gonna keel over or are you good to drive?”
“Can’t you stop talking?”
“You got other ideas for my mouth?” Now Jill was glaring. Irving snorted. “Though we do got to talk business. Pity I know.”
“Wesker already caught me up.”
The holding door burst open, one of the Majini propping it while a trail of the other took to crating down the Lickers. Once the sale order of ten had been removed and Jill ensured the door locked, Irving went leering after his wares. “Not for today, for D-day.”
Jill looked over as he walked without her, already not enjoying where this was heading. After Wesker and the team had synthesized the 3’s Excella wanted, he washed his hands of it, not mentioning the excursion any further. As far as he was concerned it was nothing but a distraction he couldn’t waste his or Jill’s time on.
Though there hasn’t been much time spent on anything else, Uroboros has come screeching to a halt. Whether due to Wesker’s lack of innovative ideas or Excella black balling the project with the failure of Delacour and her suggestions, Jill didn’t care, but she should have figured with it focus would recenter despite Wesker’s wants.
“Am I required for the negotiations with NAFA then?”
“I’m handling the entertainment, can’t have your dower ass dragging the mood down, no.” Irving shook his head, “What Excella is worried over is one of our resident pencil-pushers getting more than he bargained for and getting gutted by the locals if the jig is up, you get?”
“No.”
“Well let’s just say,” They reached the end of the hall, Irving fisted the elevator button, smirking. “‘Helloooo, Nurse’.”
Irving entered barking. Jill just sighed.
The ride down was suffocating as always, and Irving's sweat and shitty cologne weren’t helping Jill’s now budding headache from the news. Soon enough they hit transport, the sun already bright and barring down through the open sectional doors. The sick smell of blistering exposed organs and flesh melted into the early morning heat bathing the whole of transport in its rank.
Jill swallowed at the sights of eight or so Lickers in rusted cages peppered the concrete passed out and baking, the truck they’d be transporting having its ramp lowered as the Majini jerkily picked up the next cage with a dolly, jostling it enough to wake the beast up.
Usually it wouldn’t be a hassle, the Lickers would drugged enough to remain incapacitated for the duration of the drive regardless of how rough it was, but the dose must have been off today.
The one woken careened its head about, its tongue tasting at the new and dried air. It whipped about confused and agitated as the Majini continued to try and load it. It clicked, tittering as it clawed at the metal flooring, now agitated and tasting for where that agitation was coming from.
Had the Majini moving it been above baseline intelligence, or perhaps less obedient, then it might have thought to move back. It didn’t though, even in the face of the turgid vine of a tongue lashing out, curling around the throat almost cautiously, then with a guttural scream ripped back. The head of the Majini popped easily, rolling under the cage, the eyes just as blank as they had been attached, now staring at them, until the cage fell, pulverizing the head into mush.
From the neck stump, it seemed the Type 2 was fed up. The chest cavity cracked, a thin line of red broke through the shirt until it bursted open as thin spidering limbs ripping the skin aside, a spitting, withering bug hissing back as it lashed itself at the Licker.
Jill had to close her eyes for just a moment. Jesus, why now?
“Fuckin’ beautiful.” Irving sucked his teeth, “So, uh, ya gonna deal with that or we just gonna fuck ‘round while we watch them tear eachothers guts out?”
“Pull it back, I’ll get the Lickers dealt with.” Jill steeled herself, snatching up an electric rod and heading with a grimace. The Majini pulled back, seemingly confused itself as to why it backed from the offensive as Jill took its place. The Licker’s howl was waking up the other, soon they’d become their own problems if she didn’t deal with this quickly.
Jill had no restraint as she jammed the rod into its neck, flaying flesh sending them both reeling.
—
With the morning’s excitement the tiredness lessened, but it still was a persistent burn through the drive to and back. If it had been just a few off days, Jill would have chalked it up to hormonal changes, but with the symptoms not only persistent, but worsening, Jill figured, loathed as she was, that she’d take up Wesker’s offer.
But as she entered the lab instead of being able to get straight to the point, Jill, as oft was the case, was wallflowering Excella and Wesker’s argument.
Excella was raging up a storm, her heels clicking the length of the equipment room and back as she spat and threw her hands in tantrum. “Albert, would you just be reasonable.”
Contrast to her heated and excited movements, Wesker was frozen over, a wall of ice glaring at her stuck by the door to the operating room. He never rose his voice, yet worked to take command over her. “We discussed it the other night, I gave my answer.”
“No, I’d suggested and then you flat refused without listening-”
“Excella,” Wesker snapped, “We agreed this was my project, one that I'd have the oversight on. I’ve listened to your proposal and the answer is no.”
“I’ve spoken with some people,” Wesker’s facade cracked, his lip twitched, “Nothing in detail, I’ve gotten offers.”
“You’re being reckless.” Now he was moving, getting in her face he towered her, yet Jill couldn’t help but notice Excella gaining confidence. As Jill knew, Excella always craved a fight.
“We want to continue on with Uroboros, yes?” She waved it in his face, snaking a hand up his arm, a seductive smile, she thinking she won. “I know you're close, that we’re close. And once we’re there, there’s nothing more to worry over. But we’re not there yet.”
“The answer’s no Gionne.” Jill was surprised, he answered quicker than she’d thought.
Excella huffed, pushing him like he wasn’t made of stone, like he couldn’t choke the life out of her with one false move. “Nine-point-two million.” She spat, turning and smacking the open button to the main hall, "Remember that Wesker, nine-point-two million I spent on your project, one that you wouldn’t have at all had I not agreed to back it. You wouldn’t be half way anywhere without me and right now I’m not seeing why I should continue supporting.”
She was gone sucking the energy out of the room with her, leaving it feeling deadly and cold. Wesker turned his glare to Jill. “I didn’t call you.”
“You said to talk with you if I continue to have issues.”
Wesker shifted, the stiffness of his stance laxing as his eyes lessened to just a stare, “It’s been well over a week, hasn’t it? Or are you still bleeding?”
“It stopped after a day. But…” Jill hesitated, “The fatigue’s been worsening, the P-30 isn’t helping it, the aches have been ignorable, but constant, and I believe I might be nauseous. Or at the very least some scents are more bothersome than they should be.”
“Don’t tell me you caught the flu.” He said mockingly.
“You tell me.”
At the very least he wasn’t pissing mad anymore. Amused, Wesker opened the door to the operating room, gesturing to Jill, “Sit, I’ll be back.”
Jill gingerly sat onto the operating table, nails digging into the metal of it, curling up under the lip, her legs hung, barely scraping the floor. Jill kept a firm gaze down distracting from the worry.
She’s been good at ignoring it, ignoring her body when she was in pain and in need of rest for so long that actively asking for help, Wesker’s help no less, frightened her. She couldn’t even conceive of the cause, just the thought of something wrong put her on edge. The next step for humanity, flawed.
But in all reality she wasn’t. She wasn’t one of his Uroboros test subjects, she wasn’t even technically infected with any of Umbrella’s viruses anymore, Jill, despite Wesker’s best attempts, was still human. Just because of her Progenitor immunity didn’t mean something else couldn’t have gotten her sick. It’d be a shitty couple of weeks and then she’d be fine after.
Wesker came back and ran a routine medical exam; checking in ears, eyes, mouth, listening to her heartbeat and breathing. He asked a few questions about her condition which didn’t provide much more information than she already had said. Oddly all in all it was professional, sometimes Jill forgot he was classically trained as a medical doctor and not just Spencer’s School for Mad Scientist and Lunatics or whatever.
Wesker was drawing blood, a couple vials, his face neutral. “At the moment I’m not seeing any signs of any viral or bacterial infection. If I was to hazard a guess I’d say it may be complications concerning your menses. I have some rudimentary knowledge of gynecology, but I’m sure I could run a few tests to see if there’s anything concerning assuming the blood test catches nothing and the symptoms persist.”
Jill huffed, the needle pulled out, shining in the light. She put her arm back into the battlesuit and zipped it back up, feeling slightly more comfortable now that she was fully clothed. Wesker raised a brow at her, “You sounded like an actual doctor for a moment. I almost forgot where I was.”
“I am an actual doctor.”
“You never worked in a hospital,” Jill said, but when Wesker continued to look at her like she was ridiculous she arched a brow, “Did you?”
“I think you forget that I had to do clinical hours, I worked at Spencer Memorial.” Wesker capped the vials, collecting the needles in a discard pile. He wasn’t even looking at her, she wondered if she hit a nerve. A nerve that maybe she could grind a little more.
“I can’t imagine that.” Teenager Wesker, first off, in a doctor's coat actually diagnosing patients, needing to be cordial and polite. What a thought.
“And I couldn’t imagine that skinny girl actually survived Nemesis, miracle that was.” Definitely hit a nerve.
“Seems too normal for you,” Jill glared, “Actually doing good, helping heal people.”
Somehow that got him to crack a smile, “Trust when I say it wasn’t an enjoyable experience, though I suppose it wasn’t meant to be. Bard had been a hardass at the best of times and the less thought wasted on the patients the better.”
Jill frowned, “Bard?”
He glanced to her, then back down. “He’d been my supervisor during my clinical training and then something of a mentor during the Arkley days, he wasn’t a half bad man.” Wesker paused, then smiled, “Well when not surrounded by incompetence.”
Oh Jill was sure. The very little she read from the man and the rest she heard from Carlos he definitely was the type Wesker would get along with. Well at least when he was confident his life wasn’t at risk. She almost wondered what he’d think had he known about Bard’s last minute change of heart. Would he think him a coward, say he was unworthy? Perhaps he wouldn’t care either way.
Regardless, Jill didn’t feel all like prying. “I think I’d disagree.”
“Well good thing I don’t care what you think.” Wesker stood, “I need a urine sample and then we're done. You can leave it in your room, results shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
Jill stood, grabbing the plastic medical cup and left without further word, a lump now firmly pressing in her throat.
—
After all was said and done Jill hadn’t much to do for the rest of the day, thankfully, but that didn’t mean her racing worries calmed any. In fact she was sure something was going to show up on the test, and the longer she just laid, the longer a silent anxiety snared her. Jill wasn’t one meant for a sedentary life.
Had she the freedom she’d go for a hike. Jill’s only seen blurry shots of the landscape of the Kijuju Autonomous Zone from the drives, but she bets it would be breathtaking this time of day; the sun blazing over the arched hills of the desert road, lighting the canyons up beautiful reds, oranges, and pinks. The rock face shimmering, the dirt clouding at her feet as the brush gently waved with the cooling wind. Jill could practically taste the sand and air.
It was a pity then she was trapped here. If a hike was out of the question the next best was changing into her workout gear and heading to the training facility.
The training facility was a series of rooms connected via a lone hall below the labs on the third floor, the one below Jill’s quarters. The sparring room was equipped for specialised hand-to-hand combat training while the room next door, the fitness center was full of the usual sorts of free weights and machines that had been considered high tech in the eighties. There also was the medical exam room and a decent gun range across.
Having been built back when it was Umbrella owned and they needed a personal army to terrorise and kill the local communities, it was much too vast for the needs of Tricell. With security amounting to the collections of mutants and infected, Jill and Wesker were the only two that really used it.
The moment she stepped foot, Jill threw herself into Wesker’s carefully curated exercise routine. Not even thirty minutes in and she sweated through her Tricell branded tank and the shorts were glued to the bench under her. But the burn was nice and it was always a gift to be left to her own devices. Jill was even allowed a walkman, treat that was.
Jill was heavily breathing through a particularly straining shoulder press, eyes squeezed shut, her mind empty, just focusing on getting through it. Her arms quivered as she began pushing up for her last rep when suddenly there was a sturdy kick to the bench.
Jumping in shock, Jill lost grip and just about dropped the fucking bar on herself. Luckily her left arm gave first, the two-hundred-fifty pounds worth of weights crashing to the side allowing Jill to toss the other end down to the floor with it before her right failed her.
Jill took just a moment to gather her wits, trying to understand what the hell happened, when she finally noticed Excella yapping above her.
Ripping the headset off, Jill snapped. “What the fuck Excella?”
“Don’t talk to me like that.” She chided.
Jill breathed, don’t bite the bait. “What do you want?”
“Well I need to speak with you, obviously, so.” She waved. Seriously of all the times. Jill growled sitting up, messily brushing her bangs back. “Good Lord, you're a mess.” She sighed, “Well regardless, I don’t know what Albert has told you, but there’s a convention of sorts hosted by Tricell that requires my attendance.”
This is what she interrupted and damn near killed Jill for. To tell her that Wesker and her were leaving on their little love boat. “He mentioned it.” Jill said coolly.
“Well the thing is I’ve been allotted one guest of my choosing as well as personal security detail considering my position.” Excella paused like she expected Jill to say something, and frowned when she didn’t. “You’re coming with.”
“Why?”
“Look around you Valentine, I’m not keeping you for you to just chaperone Ricardo wherever he pleases. I need security and this will make you of some use. I’d have thought you’d be eager to get out of Africa.”
As loathed as Jill was to say it, she had a point. Really she shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth regardless of the bitch who was offering it. Though part of Jill wondered if Wesker had sanctioned this, she figured he’d be smart enough not to give her any lax to her leash, unless this was some form of test.
Regardless, Jill couldn’t live with herself if she passed this up.
She shrugged, “I don’t have say either way.”
“That you don’t.” Excella agreed, “It’s nothing extravagant, just a four day convention with the usual boring sorts of events; speakers, presentations, cocktail hours, a fund raising banquet,” Jill hadn’t thought that sounded all too boring, but perhaps regular medical research didn’t do it for her anymore.
“And I’ll just be shadowing you two?”
“More or less, either by my side and if I’m taken up with business then by Albert’s. I’ll have something more appropriate ready, can’t have you running in Tricell tracksuits and tactical gear.” Excella was looking off, “Just be on the plane, four a.m., we need to leave early. It’s a week out from today.”
One week… “Are we missing D-day then?”
“No, unfortunately for you.” Excella rolled her eyes, Jill swallowed that dashed hope.
Seemingly satisfied, Excella turned heel, leaving Jill with a sour taste. She didn’t dwell long before pulling the headset back on switching the CD to something a bit heavier, drowning out all her thoughts.
—
Jill stared in the mirror seeing a stranger. This one looked kindly, in her lilac medical scrubs, Tricell branded, that complimented her pale complexion, a cloth mask that surely hid a soft smile, and thick black rimmed glasses accentuating her large, blue eyes.
Nothing like Jill Valentine, the bold, the brazen. Her face was full of life, her choppy brunette hair had been a last minute choice before R.C., her deep brown intelligent eyes, her mother’s eyes... She missed her mother’s eyes.
Wesker was behind her, his thin fingers carding through her wispy hair, gently pulling it back in a high bun. She didn’t feel it, she didn’t feel anything. Since she woke a slow crawling numb static consumed her until she felt nothing. Her so foggy like she was experiencing the world through smoke and mirrors.
Excella was in the corner, leaning on her bathroom door looking her over, a critical nail tapping against her teeth.
“She looks.” She shrugged, “Presentable.”
“She looks like part of Tricell’s humanitarian aid, which is what we’re aiming for.” Wesker turned her. “You understand your assignment?”
Her stomach churned. “Yes.”
“You understand you are to say nothing concerning this experiment to any of the participants. Nothing that would raise alarm. In fact I want you to remain silent if anyone besides Irving or Dr. Miguel is within earshot. If you are spoken to directly, keep it short and nondescript.”
Jill nodded.
“I had a talk with Dr. Miguel, you’ll do as he says unless otherwise it’d lead to injury or death, understood?” Wesker’s eyes bore straight into her, deathly serious. As if she made one wrong move and he’d end her. “He’s the authority on this experiment, and I won’t have adverse results due to your insubordination.”
Jill swallowed back the acid. “I understand.”
Wesker watched her for a moment too long, like he didn’t want to break apart. Jill was suffocating, it felt like he was pulling all the air, leaving her with nothing to breathe.
“I’m going to check in with Ricardo.” Excella said, turning and clicked out of the room.
That seemed to break his spell. Wesker’s hands left her arms, sliding down them until finally he detached and left the bathroom attachment. Jill caught out the side of her eye him leaning over her bed, rifling through the duffle bag of weapons he was sending her with. It was a disgusting sight, almost domestic.
Jill looked herself over in the mirror one last time, frowning, then her gaze turned to her much too steady hands.
Wesker hummed and Jill looked up, trying to blink away the burn from her eyes. She swallowed, trying to think of one last desperate plea. “I still haven’t been feeling well. What if they catch on think I’m sick-”
“You’re not. The labs came back clean.” Wesker said it with such authority that Jill half believed him. But even if it was a ploy, it wasn’t a lie.
“The nausea worsened and-”
“Then don’t eat,” He snapped. “This discussion is over. You're fine.”
Jill snapped her mouth shut she looked down, grimacing.
Excella toed the door open waving for them to come. Jill took the duffle bag and walked through the door, holding it for Wesker. Him and Excella walked ahead while Jill trailed behind a respectable pace, enough to not drag, but far enough she could wallow without reprim. The trip down to transport was relatively short and when they finally made it Miguel in his own doctor's costume was waiting with anxious impatience.
Excella made it down first, placing a pair of sunglasses on to cover her eyes from the morning haze. “Is everything in order?”
“Yes Ms. Gionne, I called in to ensure the building was set to your specification.” Miguel said. “And all the materials have been transported over, everything should be in place by the time we arrive.”
“Ricardo said that he has set it up so that once a shift is done the workers will be sent over. I’ve emailed the timetables to you."
“Yes I saw, thank you Ms. Gionne.”
Excella sighed. “Well I have nothing more to say, if there is any complications call Ricardo, he’ll be hosting but should be on stand-by.”
“Will there be any concerns with…” Miguel looked towards Jill.
“She’s been lectured.” Wesker spoke, “I ensure there won’t be any issue.”
Miguel nodded, “Thank you again Ms. Gionne, Dr. Wesker for your trust. I’m positive the field test will yield favorable results.”
“I’m sure they will.” Excella smirked, the rest of ‘or it’ll be your head’ was left unsaid. “Keep me updated.” Excella then trailed a hand down Wesker’s arm, “You know where I’ll be.” and then left up the ramp back towards the elevators.
“This is your first field test isn’t it?” Miguel nodded, Wesker smiled. Something nostalgic and forlorn. “Fantastic opportunity, as you will see, be sure to keep a sharp eye, I’ve seen it before when a researcher is caught up in collections he forgets to watch his own head.” Then he turned to her, “Jill will of course be in assistance, I would caution you to listen to her. She’s an extremely experienced combatant, she’ll know how to best navigate."
“Of course, I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you, Doctor.”
They shook hands, Miguel looking all the more confident and important, and it seemed to be the end of the awkward preamble to this horror of a day. Miguel started heading for the Jeep they’d use to drive over while Wesker leaned over towards her ear. “Try to keep to the high ground and if you must engage, do so at a distance. And be watchful, I know some have had the odd mutation where they burst from the chest cavity and fly.” Oh joy. “Your top priority is your safety, I don’t want you injured at all.” That surprised Jill.
“Does Excella know?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I want the data and I would prefer Dr. Miguel in one piece, but if it’s between you and him leave him, only if it truly is such a case.” Wesker stressed, shame, Jill could have used a nice excuse. “Keep a good head on your shoulders and him in line, but don’t impede his research unless necessary.”
“You’re worried.” Jill asked, searching past his sunglasses seeing if she could read any emotion in his inhuman eyes. “Aren’t you.”
“I think Irving and Gionne have put the pair of you in a very peculiar position that I wouldn’t have personally. This has the possibility to go in either direction, and I don’t want to waste you on something so trite.”
“Shouldn’t they be in Irving’s control?”
“The 3’s don’t have a control host at the moment.”
“So I’ll have a whole village of infected to deal with. At night. With a useless researcher scribbling in his notepad.” Jill demanded.
“As I said, not what I would have done personally.” Wesker shook his head. “I believe NAFA wanted one of their men on the ground with you both to record their own data, if I was you I’d rendezvous with him at earliest convenience.”
Jill seethed, letting the steam simmer before continuing. “Is Irving also going to be a factor?” Because God forbid she needs to keep two ego maniacs in line with the wild card.
“I doubt it, he’ll most likely be holed off in the plant with the potential buyers waiting for your return with the video. And even so I could care less about him.” Wesker looked down to his watch then nodded to the Jeep. “I suppose I shouldn’t keep you. Godspeed.”
—
“Hold still you’ll only feel a pinch.” Miguel said as Jill took the syringe, completely metal so no one could see inside, to the disinfected patch of skin. The woman nodded, a shallow smile aimed towards Jill, then she peered back down to the child in her lap. Probably three if that, a real young boy sucking his thumb.
“Will he also get the vaccine?” She asked.
The lump in Jill’s throat stoned, her hands much too stable for the death she was inflicting. She knew the words she was so desperate to say; to run, that this was all a ruse, just another Bioweapons scheme so that those in power could get the data they wanted. That this woman’s life and her son’s and no one else’s in this soon to be damned village meant nothing to the experimenters that set up here.
Jill was sure the woman knew, she, her own family lived the violence of Tricell, and Umbrella before that, and the colonisers before them. But God if only she knew.
Miguel smiled, kindly. The fucking bastard. “Yes, it wouldn’t do if the whole village wasn’t inoculated.”
Jill gave the injection to the woman and then with blurred eyes took the alcohol wipe to the boy's arm as his mother took his hand from his mouth and stretched it out for her. Jill tried her damndest to stop, to not do it, then Miguel said, “Nurse if you would.”
Jill swallowed around the rock, she couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’
Jill injected the boy and he whimpered a little as his mother comforted him. In that moment Jill was desperate to ask their names, ask about their lives, get an idea who they were. She knew well with R.C. that there were so many deaths all left to be nameless and forgotten, the memorial to the city only said ‘To those loved ones who have been lost.’
No recognition, no acknowledgement of the people that had been killed and mutated in the name of Bioweapons. And here Jill was doing that all over again to hundreds if not up to a thousand people. People she knew wouldn’t even get a memorial in recognition.
But even then it felt so selfish to try and reinstate her own humanity through the tragedy she was inflicting. This woman shouldn’t waste any of her last seconds on a person like Jill.
The woman stood and shifted her son to her hip, giving thanks before leaving.
She was the last person for this period, the next batch not until after a few hours.
Jill slumped into the wall, a few tears escaping. The woman and her son had been the two-hundred-fifty-sixth and seventh of today. Two-hundred-fifty-seven lives she held in her hands and she so easily took. So knowingly injected a liquid worse than poison into. And it wasn’t even noon.
Miguel was writing something on the laptop when he looked up, finally noticing her. “Why are you crying?”
“Fuck you.”
Miguel threw up his hands in a mock apology, like she was being an over-sensitive bitch. Jill pushed up the glasses atop her forehead and batted away the strays. It was gonna be hell waiting so long, it’d been one thing if they just marathoned it and infected everyone at once, but this prolonged charade just was torture to her.
Then Irving popped his head in. “Ah good you’re finished.”
Miguel straightened up, “Mr. Irving, is there something I can help you with?”
“Actually there is.” Irving shut the door, “I have a special request, I have some of my girls and a few of the stronger men lined up, I need you to give them 2’s.”
Miguel’s brow furrowed. “That was outside the parameters of today's experiment. Has Ms. Gionne agreed.”
“Look it lab rat, I can’t very well run an oil plant with no workers so do me a solid here.”
Jill glared, “Some of your girls?”
“Hey, what's it to you?” He laughed, “The jealous type sweetheart-”
Jill shot up, fist balled in Irving’s shirt as she lifted him off the ground, banging him into the wall with a oh so satisfying crack. “Fucking rot.”
“Hey! Hey, let him down now!” Miguel ripped at her with one hand, all pink in his putrid face. Before he even touched her Irving slumped to the ground.
“Jesus you fucking psycho.” Irving wiped himself off.
“You aren’t supposed to get violent.” Miguel was peaky, scared. Good. “How about you take a break.”
Jill didn’t want to, Jill wanted to stay here being a threat in this man’s face. But she was moving before she even knew it, sitting right outside on powdered concrete head lulled back, pounding.
Miguel gulped, “Is she always so…”
“Just call up Wesker, tell him to dose her and dose her well, that’ll get the bitch to learn some manners.” Irving paced, “Now back to why I’m here, we’re running tight on time.”
“I don’t-” He sighed, “How many are we talking about?”
“Thirty-two in total. I got the samples ready to roll, some that were kept in the deep freeze when they weren’t selling. Gionne ain’t gonna miss anything, and hey this will be kept our little secret. It’s not like it’s gonna hamper your test dummies, I’ll keep ‘em inside tonight. Besides I could arrange a little chat with Gionne, tell her what a great help and asset you’ve been.”
Miguel paused. “Uh, yes, I think I should have the time.”
They both left the room, staring down at her as though she hadn’t heard the whole thing. “Go back inside Ms. Valentine and stay seated. I’ll be back in short order.” Miguel said, already pulling his phone.
—
If there was a hell Jill was most certainly going there after all she’s inflicted here.
The plague took the village in one tsunami of agony, burst of violent hacking, of bleeding and mysterious lesions, of screaming and crying over the dead continued to pick through the village as the early night dragged on, death knocking at every door without discrimination. So many women and children just dying open mouthed and wide eyed not even knowing what took them.
With the men, it was worse. They’d be so full of confusion and fear and sorrow and in one sweeping moment it was stolen from them, all emotion and right to their body gone. In one potent instance through a window a man clutching the lifeless body of his child cried over her as he himself spasmed, only to then still, look down with those blank lifeless eyes, and drop her like she had meant nothing to him.
Jill was wracked with all sorts of guilt ridden sickness. Forced to watch the same scene over and over and over until her stomach twisted to knots. She kept to her two corners with a strict silence. She was sure the two men with her would mistake it for professionalism, unable or unwilling to pay respect to the human life loss tonight.
Miguel was working hard over his notes, furiously writing while the other man, Youcef (most likely not his real name by the few moments it took him to react when called) was standing point across from Jill. She didn’t get a great read off him, he seemed a young zealot no older than maybe twenty-four or so, one she wasn’t sure knew the extent of what he was participating in, but they needed a body down here and he had been the choice.
They had made a plan for when they had to move out, Jill would take point and Youcef would hold up the back as they made it through the already mapped out mile back to their base of operations.
Around midnight the fight died down, it seemed everyone who would succumb did and those who hadn’t were left to rot in their houses.
“From what can be viewed, it seems initial infection rates are similar to lab results. Type 3 still is 100% fatal to all females and pre-pubencent males. There’s no hard numbers but the adherence rate for post-pubencent males appears to be the same.” Miguel was mumbling again, something Jill found endlessly annoying. “The behavior seems to be not dissimilar for Type 2 field test, indicating new advancements may only be combat related.”
“Are they usually so…” Youcef hesitated, there was something near anxious in his voice, “Quiet?”
Miguel peaked up, then went back to his notes. “Well Plagas infected still are bound by the host bodies natural rhythms, usually they keep to a semi-similar schedule that their host had so as not to be detected as intruders. It’s a very interesting sort of intelligent parasite.”
Off in the distance something hit a wall. Jill snapped her head listening. Doors, several of them all slamming open at once. It started as a trickle, but then soon after a heavy stream of infected swarming the streets. From high above as they were it could almost be mistaken as a line of ants marching Eastward. Well if the bodies they carelessly slung over shoulders were ignored.
Jill furrowed her brow, watching for some of the nearby unopened residence, and sure enough infected came out clutching the body of the deceased going in with the crowd, mostly women, but occasionally taking older children as well. They all looked at each other, Jill surely with a bored anger, but Youcef had something of an anxious curiosity about him and Miguel was just the definition of ecstatic.
“What are they doing?” Youcef asked.
“I don’t know, I guess I was a bit premature with my assessment." Miguel was furiously writing. “We’ve never had them in this large of a group. Perhaps without the control host active they’ve formed a sort of hivemind? I suppose it wouldn’t be a surprise, but to do so in such complex beings...”
Jill on her own privately wondered if perhaps due to the latent remnants of personality, or mock personality, if perhaps this was some form of mourning. The parasite might not know why, but perhaps the emotion was strong enough it superseded its own logic.
“Wouldn’t be surprised?” Youcef asked.
“It’s based on some past work with T-V-Virus, so not necessarily.”
That caught Jill’s attention, “Veronica? Wouldn’t that require a control host to function?” She knew from Chris and Claire’s Antarctic escapades about the Ashford’s variant and she knew that Alexia was attempting to create an ant-esque world order with her as the poised queen. While Plagas could technically survive without the control host it wasn’t very useful for Tricell (Jill could only assume it was so NAFA would get control), but she wasn’t sure on T-V infected.
“Not necessarily, colonies can persist without a ‘Queen’ as far as my understanding is. I mean I’m no entomologist, but as long as the colony is alive, well.” He shrugged. “I would expect the same here too, more so even.”
“They’re gone.” Youcef said, peering over the edge.
Miguel stood, “It looks like they’re heading East, the base should give us a good vantage point.”
“Sure that’s safe?” Jill asked, not keen on the idea of going ground level to poke the proverbial beehive while they were swarming.
“I think that if we want to continue the research some measured risk is required,” Miguel said, arranging himself, “So if you would Ms. Valentine-”
Jill shoved past him, knocking him off his feet, falling flat on his ass with a yelp. She lifted the heavy hatch, glancing back to Youcef. “I’ll clear the floors and radio when I’m on the ground level. Make sure he stays out of trouble.”
Jill swept the floors quickly before checking out the back alley, the dirt backroads all abandoned, good. Jill pushed the door open with the tip of her rifle, brows still furrowed in confusion. She checked the few blocks with it being much of the same story before calling up.
Youcef and Miguel came quickly, Miguel ending up sandwiched between them as they cautiously made it through between the low buildings, barely getting anything in the way of shelter. As they weaved through, still alone, off in the distance a loud sort of murmur was growing. It was so meshed and muddled Jill couldn’t pick out any specific words or phrases, English, French, or otherwise. She was wondering if they were even speaking coherently, or if it was some Plagas imitation of words.
The first sight of infected was the raging fires set in the middle of the open market square, the stands all torn of wood, whatever tatters still left of signs blew in the wind. In the middle of the opening was a healthy, growing bon fire and next was the sight of stacked bodies, something that made Jill stop dead in her tracks. She gulped, that knot tightening into something she couldn’t ignore, and then Jill backed up into the wall, ensuring she was shadowed by the building in front.
She motioned for Youcef and Miguel to come but to stay low. Miguel almost came in an over anxious run, but Youcef dragged him down, thankfully, and forced him to duck walk after. They ended up in a huddle as they watched one of the few uninfected men, a man in nice clean clothes, some business owner if Jill had to guess, get dragged from his house, thrashing, begging, be held tight by a pair of infected while a third slowly and meticulously worked the chest of a dead woman open, pulling the live squirming parasite from her. The fire highlighted the wet tendons clinging to the parasite snapping as it was forcibly removed. Then it turned hollow eyes towards the man and advanced.
Jill swallowed and turned away, she didn’t need to witness this.
“Now this is fascinating." Miguel leaned against her, engrossed with such a disgustingly amazed look. Jill and Youcef pushed him back, shoving a hand over his mouth.
“We should be leaving.” Youcef whispered.
Jill nodded, looking behind her at the back alley only seeing two slumped bodies, the white of their eyes shining from the fire.
Jill crouched walked around, carefully nearing when she recognised them now up close. Her stomach lurched, her lips trembled.
A woman and her young son, the same pair from the morning, sat on a bench outside their lit house, streaks of black pooling and dripping down their mouths. Jill gagged just from the sweet-rotting smell. It was one thing when she wasn’t looking too close, even another when it was infected, she’s learned to keep the faces she knew separate from the monsters they now belonged to. But, but…
Jill collapsed at their feet, sputtering bits of acid laden spit, her entire stomach feeling like it was trying to revolt. Good thing she hadn’t eaten at Wesker’s fucking demand or else she would have vomited on the corpses. A horrid, a sad thought.
Jill was still heaving as she sat back, trying to calm the urging gags as Miguel and Youcef came after. “Are you fine?”
What does it look like? “Yes, let’s-”
The door opened, two men came out. Jill remembered them as well, the younger one had come in with a little girl, her brother Jill believed, now her limp form was hung loosely over his shoulder her bubbly smile long gone. The older man had been one of her first, he came in tired and short her, ready to get done and get home.
She looked up at their blank faces now, seeing dried tear paths from when they were still human staining their otherworldly features. Jill’s heart stammered, she might start heaving again.
Miguel was up before her, but it was Jill who reacted first, pulling her gun front and watching their stance. It wouldn’t do to alert the whole hive, (whose to say they weren’t already), and Jill now needed an exit plan for when shit hit the fan.
“The building is up ahead, get the Jeep!”
Miguel seemed picky on this idea, “We still have research-”
“On it.” Youcef was already booking it, leaving both her and Miguel behind. Idiot hadn’t the sense to go running with him, but Wesker made it clear if it was her or him, to leave him behind.
The father attacked first, coming at her with hands clawed open grabbing for her. The son shifted his sister and as did the mob earlier tear out the Plagas parasite from within her.
Jill dodge rolled out the way, spraying bullets into the back of the older man. He jerked with the shots, but didn’t fall, instead there was a great rumbling under skin, bubbling and stretching like it was plastic, the Plagas begging to burst out and with a wet rip. His skin cracked and splintered as claw like spokes prying it open piece by fleshy piece until and a sinewy flower shaped creature came out, pulsating, propelling the body at her again.
Jill flashed away, and ducked under the younger man, but he seemed more set on Miguel.
Miguel whimpered, losing all that bravado that came with being a man behind all this madness. He weakly threw a loose brick and tried to run to no avail, only to get snatched, hoisted with one hand, the squirming mass of tentacles in its other.
Jill dodged the open Plaga again, he got a bit too close due to her distraction. As she hit a wall pulled a flash bomb shoving it in one of the orifices and kicked it back towards the other infected, the creature screeched and burrowed a claw into her, ripping down her arm in an agonising tear that exposed muscle. Hot blood bubbled and hissed at the surface, pooling and oozing down the suit, pieces of fabric and flesh intermixed, but Jill couldn’t focus on the searing of her arm much less the gore as seconds later the bomb went off, partially blinding her.
At this point the rest of the hive noticed and began swarming. Jill ripped off her string of grenades, chucking them backwards and took her gun in her good arm, firing at the Plagas as it stumbled in its step, far more put off than Jill had been.
Miguel, lucky fucking bastard he was, took off running as his assailant got caught up in the blast. Jill haggard back, waiting for the swarm to get in a good mass, then she aimed down, shooting at the grenades.
The explosion hit like a truck load, throwing her back on her ass, but she managed to roll onto her feet as the infected hit all sides of the two buildings, gore and viscera splatting the sides, bursting the fragile outer skin, giving her just enough time to run.
Despite the explosion and chunks torn off, the bastards were quickly on her, their wet appendages lashing next to her. Jill was working out a way to scale up a wall when suddenly the dark alley was flooded by bright light.
Up ahead a horn blared, just giving enough warning for Jill to pancake herself to the wall before the Jeep came crashing down the alley knocking the infected down. Jill threw herself in the back, and Youcef started to reverse only to get yelled and flagged by Miguel who barely managed to cling to the open window as he backed out, sliding in through it.
“Thank God.” Jill near cried, “Thank you.”
“Of course, we don’t leave ours behind.” He said. (Despite the platitude and the rescue, she couldn’t help but think, ‘yet you’ll help infect them.’). They peeled out, and with the speed of the Jeep left the hissing, spitting parasites behind. Instead of a chase, they held back, apparently knowing when they lost.
Miguel was next to her praying furiously making the sign of the cross. Youcef was smiling something wild, that youthful anxiety gone now that they were outside of town and riding the side of the dark marsh land. Something she hadn’t felt nor really seen since her S.T.A.R.S. days. It reminded her of Frost’s manic grins and promises of cheap beer at J’s after a mission completed. “We’ll have to take a boat soon to meet at the factory. I hope you got enough data Doctor.”
“Yes, plenty.” He groaned.
“By the way, are you okay Miss? Your arm its-”
“It’s just a scratch.” Jill assured him, and yet he still looked slightly uneasy. “It’s not like the T-Virus, it can’t infect through physical wounds.”
“That’s not why I was- Ya Allāh!”
The car was hit, rocking it to the side. Youcef yanked the wheel to correct it, snapping his neck behind him. An unearthly shriek followed them, like some battle cry. Jill craned her neck, eyes blown wide and furious.
Flying beast tracked them; veiny webbed wings attached to a Plagas body, one of their mouths, a black hole wrapped in many teeth, opened another screech alerting its brothers to their feast.
“What is that?” Youcef shouted, jerking the car as it got hit again, nearly throwing them to the marsh.
“God damn them!” Miguel curled, “I didn’t think they could track out this far.”
“Roll the rest of the windows, I’ll deal with this.” Jill pulled herself up and onto the window seal with her good arm, slinging the rifle out to the side outside the Jeep. Tangling her bad arm with the seat belt, weak as it was, the grip was just going to have to work, Jill steadied the rifle against her hip. “Keep us straight!”
Jill messily fired, missing more shots than made, but for three of the fuckers of their size, it didn’t take a lot for them to eat it. She got the one closest, having to ram into the Jeep body once to avoid a dive attack, but after she spun, sputtering shots, it lost flight and got crushed. The other two swarming driver side weren’t so easy.
She had to lean up on the roof, letting the rifle fall to her side and take a Beretta, praying despite the bumps it would aim true.
She bit into the juncture of the second’s wing and body, sending a sputter of mess of black as the limb hung useless. The creature screeched, but didn’t fall off, instead it clung to the plastic of the window partition, leaving an easy target for Jill.
A shot sang and before she could send a third, something ripped and hooked into her back. Jill yelled as shots of needles tore into her. It latched on, its mouth inches from her neck. Jill just about let go falling off the car when she felt something, someone grab hold of her legs.
Still she was leaning further than comfort with grinding teeth next to her soft throat. Pinpricks of fear scratched up her back and Jill hissed in agonising pain forcing the gun messily around her neck sending off a blind shot.
It hit point blank, thank fuck, the creature let go, but not without tearing down a further row, but her back was so bloodied and hot and Jill so pumped it barely registered to her fraying mind. Jill managed a few more shots at it for good measure before she couldn’t see it anymore.
She turned back blurred attention to the last, still hungry for blood as it tried to force its bad wing to use. Jill fired off once, twice. It fell away.
Miguel pulled Jill back in, her body burned so bad it became numb, leaving her hallow and wet with blood, but alive.
Miguel was on her before she could even sit, forcing her to lean forward, she heard the back of her suit rip. “Oh god.”
“Don’t.” Jill gasped. “I’m fine.”
“A talon’s stuck in your back!” Miguel was over the seat pulling something from the back. Then in an instant the Jill’s entire body was pierced through, a radiating sting stole her breath. “Calm down its disinfectant.”
The Jeep suddenly came to a stop, Youcef opened the door to her side, “I’ll help get her on, they should have medical-”
“Don’t be stupid they don’t.” Miguel slid out his end, pulling Jill to lay flat. Her whole world went from blistering white to fading as the adrenaline drained so did her vision. The only thing she was aware of was a never ending, radiating pain, like all her nerves were eating at her alive. “I’ll drive back to base, go on without us.”
“I will, safe travels.” The door slammed, but then the vague outline of a shadow covered her view. “That was amazing, never seen anything like it. Well,” He waved his arm, “Any of it.”
Jill glared as she looked up at the blurring figure, it hurt to even speak. “Yeah?”
“Not your first obviously.” Youcef laughed, “Thank you, get well.”
—
Jill woke to buzzing silences and pure white light. For a brief second she thought she finally died, the only feeling was a far away vague awareness of something over here, but of course no respite was to be found.
Jill ruefully cracked her eyes, inviting back in the breathtaking pain.
The live fire came first, licking up her back and eventually found residence in her skull, then the sudden pinprick of needles methodically stabbing in and out consolidated the white into shapes of reality.
Jill groaned, crushed her eyes closed, burying her face into the cool metal of the operating table, trying to at the very least slow the monsterous throb in her head. Her eyes felt like they were pulsating, trying to push out of her sockets. She had a feeling with the icy, nimble hands working her back, reinflaming it, that calming any of the pain wouldn’t be in her luck.
“So you’re awake.” That stitch was pulled particularly tight. There was a long beat of silence, letting her soak in her surroundings. “I thought I told you to be careful.”
Jill licked her cracked lips, flaking blood peeling off, drying her tongue. “You did.”
Wesker grimaced above her, another tight pull. Jill drily groaned, hadn’t she been punished enough?
“Do you know how many stitches this will be?” He asked cruelly. “A hundred and fourty-nine. Do you know how reckless you’d have to be to need this many?”
“I wasn’t-” Jill cried as the needle pushed in a particularly tender spot. “We go swarmed.”
“I saw the video. I still expect better, you deliberately placed your safety on the back burner to save what? Some third-world ‘revolutionary’ and a pathetic researcher.”
“You said-”
“Whatever you think I said, I didn’t. I didn’t say to play hero.”
Jill’s lips trembled, her whole body did, but not in pain, anger. She did as best she could under those impossible conditions, had ensured their survival and return of data and this was the thanks she was given? His damned disappointment taken out on her once again.
“What did you want for me to leave them for dead when I could have- AH!”
Jill smashed her face back into the operating table, biting her lip to stop the whimpers, to dull the flaring pain. She tasted blood, fuck.
“I said I wanted you to come back uninjured, that was paramount.”
“Well I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Jill whimpered, not feeling like fighting anymore. Honestly not feeling like staying conscious anymore. He couldn’t care less about bodily injuries as long as they could be healed and hadn’t been self-inflicted. Jill didn’t know where this stringent concern for her well being came from, especially when he seemed happy hurting her himself, but she knew she didn’t like it.
“There isn’t going to be one. You’re going on sabbatical for the time being.”
Jill chanced turning her head, now that did scare her. She tried to catch his face, only seeing the blur of his forearm and gloved hand working her shoulder. “What’s the point of a super soldier if she doesn’t go on missions?”
“What is the point if she dies due to carelessness?”
“Why do you care if I get hurt?” Jill asked, contorting herself even more to try to get a look at him.
His sunglasses were gone, just his statuesque face staring intently.
Wesker paused, something shifted, like a crack might break the damn, that he might cease his mind games. But the moment passed and he continued the punishing stitch work. “Since when have you become eager to aid Tricell. I would have thought you’d relish not doing Irving’s dirty work, you would have this morning.”
So that’s how it’d be then. Jill turned her face back in, breathing through her gritted teeth. No more words pass between them. Eventually the pain of the needle bleeded into the rest of the throbbing ache, something tolerable, something she could ignore.
Jill, despite better judgment, fell asleep at the bloodied, caring hands of Albert Wesker.