Sam

transgenicprose


Character musings

...or something like it.


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[AU: Jill, Chris, Wesker] You're not my favorite mistake; you're just a simple regret
Gun it up, At the ready
zerosuitjill wrote in transgenicprose

Reaching the door at the end of the hall, Jill shifted her M92F to her right hand, gripped the handle, and listened. Everything was, for the most part, absolutely still. A low breeze, the slight rhythmic rustling of cloth, the scurry of tiny rodent feet somewhere further beyond -- small sounds, things she wouldn't have noticed just a few years ago. Now each one caught her attention, just like the particularly strong scents of wood, dust, something earthy, and what smelled like a fading whiff of stale alcohol. It might have been akin to a sensory overload for anyone not used to it, but Jill had adapted, like always, taking the small things for what they were and deciding not to waste time with bitter thoughts.

Fairly confident that it was safe to move, she turned the handle and stepped inside, her gun immediately sweeping the area and joined quickly by her small flashlight.

The room was as empty as the rest of the compound. Larger than any other so far, it was about a third the size of a typical storage warehouse. Discarded sheets and tarps littered the cement floor; tables, overturned chairs, dusty beer bottles, a few playing cards, and some shell casings were the only things that stood out. Overhead, a tattered hole in the ceiling, where fresh flakes from the snowfall outside drifted down to gather in the growing mound in the middle of the room. Other than Jill, it was empty.

A loud, solid, and echoing creak gave warning, and she sidestepped just in time to avoid another wooden beam as it dropped from overhead in a startling clatter of noise. It landed hard enough to disturb the thick coat of dust covering the ground, producing a small cloud that threatened to make her sneeze before she moved further in.

She touched two fingers to her headset, pressing it closer to her ear. "It definitely hasn't been used recently," she affirmed, glancing back towards the hallway. "The building isn't more than a few years old, though, so it shouldn't be falling apart like this. I guess they left a few surprises for anyone who might come snooping around." With just enough natural light to go by, she pocketed her flashlight and, with gloved hands on her gun and gun at her side, she ignored the cruel drop in temperature and kept moving, eyes and ears alert.

It was frustrating, hitting another dead end. From the looks of things, the group had cleared out long before now, which at least meant that the local town could rest easy. All the same, it just meant that another town, wherever they decided to hole up next, would be suffering shortly if it wasn't already.

Dammit.

Jill had to give them credit. Zhizn wasn't the most run-of-the-mill terrorist organization out there, even if its methods, mindset, and intentions were just as self-centered and cold-blooded as any other. They'd managed to keep the B.S.A.A. running in circles for months now, at least, which was a feat in and of itself.

Zhizn was actually the first case Jill had been assigned upon her return to duty. That had been over a year ago, and while terrorists were hardly ever cut-and-dry cases, this one was getting more complicated as time passed, not less, despite all their efforts and intel. Based in Russia, the group was said to have had direct ties to Umbrella in the past; even that was shaky information, as the group had proven particularly difficult to penetrate. Even the latest tips the Alliance had received were more rumors than anything, and if not for a couple B.O.W. corpses that had turned up in the nearby woods, the claims may well have been disregarded entirely by the higher-ups. Resources were stretched thin these days, after all, and false alarms were becoming progressively more detrimental to the B.S.A.A.'s cause. Most governments in the first-world countries were feeling the same strain, but the Alliance, as stretched as it already was, was definitely something near overburdened lately.

The thought made Jill exhale a little sharply, her breath visible in the freezing air for a couple seconds. "Pretty sure I'm just finding dust and cobwebs here," she went on, but kept her voice just low enough to prevent much of an echo. "Any luck on your end?"

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....GDI, Jill [1/2] B(

Somewhere in the back of Jill's mind, hidden beneath stubbornness, optimism, and present concerns, she had always known, maybe, that Wesker wasn't truly dead.

His apparent end off the coast of Africa -- it hadn't been convincing, for one. Not entirely. Not for her. Jill didn't like to make assumptions when it came to danger, and considering Wesker had been one of the greatest dangers the world had ever known, something about his disappearance never sat well with her. It had been too convenient, too open-ended; only the sight of his corpse would have really, fully put her fears to rest.

It hadn't been convincing, but more than that, even, was that kind of end -- it hadn't... it hadn't been him. However she chose to describe it, however she chose to look at it, the fact of the matter was that Jill knew Wesker. She knew him personally, physically, as both an ally and an enemy; she knew him better than anyone still alive, possibly better than anyone who had ever lived, period. Wesker was a man who lived, breathed, and killed for his ideals, for himself, and nothing he ever did was without purpose or emphasis on what he tried so hard to be: above everyone and everything else, better, a superior breed and definition of life, always prepared to prove it -- or not, depending on whether he deemed it worthwhile.

Knowing that, knowing him, Jill had had more than a little difficulty accepting the idea that someone like him could just fade away like that -- the Wesker she knew would go down fighting, taking anyone and anything with him in a passionate rage in the event that he was bested. A solitary death by sea, by something like chance, with no one around to witness the end of the supposed next step in human evolution?

No.

Wesker wasn't the divine creature he fancied himself to be, but he had more control over his fate than that.

So seeing him now -- it wasn't shock that slammed into Jill's gut as much as it was dread. Dread at being right, at finding her worst fear confirmed; it was the kind of dismay that made her heart skip several beats, her blood run cold, and her nerves promptly forget how to function other than keeping her on her feet.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there in frozen unease, but heavy sounds in the hall outside quickly snapped her out of it and she blinked, pupils dilating back to something near normal as her brain started working again.

She took in Wesker's state and the pieces fell together without even trying to think too hard. He'd survived. Zhizn had found him, managed to abduct him, was holding him here to do God knew what -- and while any pain on his part would certainly earn no tears from Jill, it still managed to prompt a troubling new train of thought even through her nearly mind-numbing surprise.

If they have the power to hold him here like this... what else are they planning?

Looking back to his face, Jill met his red gaze readily, easily, without fear, and held it, for a tight couple seconds not reacting to his expression.

And then it felt like something in her simply snapped.

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