Author's Note: This is my first time jumping into the deep pool of Resident Evil fiction; please review as you wish. I plan to go into all the time periods of the series. In honor of the new game, however, I've decided to start out here.
This very, very short One-Shot fiction takes place before Resident Evil 5. Thank you.
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She lay in his grasp, not relaxing, but contemplating.
He was holding her, feeling for the slightest twitch of muscle movement or change in respiration.
His glasses were placed on the counter next to the cot, with the arms bend nicely into position. His hair still stayed perfect as though fixed by some godly touch, and hardly any of him was askew. She could hear his heart slowly beat as though he had done nothing at all. When her vision cleared, she could almost see the glints of his eyes, which he regularly kept behind the lenses or closed.
It gave him distance.
The woman was still shivering incessantly with the feeling going through her; a mix of cold, warmth, confusion, power, and weakness. The skin glistened with sweat, and her body still had the scratches and bruises from where he gripped her, to hold her down. A thin slit of red illuminated her cheek, and carried over onto her plump lips, hardly used except when she started to bite.
She always was a tricky creature, he thought to himself. He was proud of his catch, his prize, his partner. It had taken him, as he felt, forever to get to this stage.
And why not be the performer when one has the stage?
He looked back down at her form. She was still shaking (to be expected) and her blonde hair was spread out in rays, freed when he pinned her to the cot. Her slender back still heaved with the effort of denying how she felt about her life, her current situation.
And he smiled his cat-like grin. And she passed out.
Feeling her body suddenly give under him, he pushed himself back up and turned her over, admiring his catch. Jill's face was strangely at peace; the eyes were closed, her face not contorted in a grimace or a yell. Her skin was a paler color than when he first laid eyes on her, but he though it suited her. His eyes trailed off to her chest, where the newest implant would be.
Total control and commitment.
Wesker strolled out of the small, windowless room, with a syringe in his hand, the vial empty of the virus now in his partner's system.