Beads of sweat dripped down smooth skin, caressing the tight suit that formed too a broken body. Chapped lips parted slightly, eyelashes fluttering open as the bright light above them was being manually turned off. Her body began to slowly numb over, her busted bottom lip slightly trembled. Fingers curled as moisture built up in hazed blue eyes. He always turned the light off, always, when...

Jill Valentine couldn't tell you how many days, months, years she had been confined to this operation table, her appearance changed and her outlook forever bleak. The reflection that would shine off the bits of mirrored glass hidden in the lights of the eggshell ceiling would reveal what she has become, what he has built her to be, and all she could do was turn her head away and let a silent tear slip down her heart-shaped face. Bruises and scrapes on her wrists and ankles would reveal the countless hours of struggle and repressed anger she spent trying to run. She'd try and run away from the truth that sickened her, and caused transparent guilt to glide down her cheeks, her heart to burst...

Clanking, leather boots made painfully slow steps across a metal floor as Jill winced with each one. They seemed so loud, right in her ears as they seemed to echo and fill the room, her heartbeat intertwined with the notions. Why couldn't Wesker just leave her alone... She caught a glimpse of burning eyes from the corner of hers, and refused to lead on that she has noticed his appearance. Eyes seemed to twitch as she tried hard to come off as sleeping, maybe even dead, if she was lucky enough, and try to ignore what awaited her. A metallic like voice called her name, her eyebrows creasing, clearly she was never one to act as the silence was never broken.

Thick fingers touched a strap on her right wrist as Jill's body tensed up, a feint smirk was visible in the darkness. With what felt like hours passed, suddenly, a violent rip could be heard as the coarse, leather restraint underneath a chain has clamped down, piercing porcelain skin. A sleek abdomen raised off the table as white teeth clamped down on the woman's battered lips, re-opening the weak barrier the healing had attempted to do. His tongue lapped at her upper lip, her muffled screams seeming to fade into his mouth as he had finally loosened the contraption putting his captive in agony. As hot breath rolled across the bitten battlefield, Jill's chest began to rise rapidly with tears swelling in the corners of her eyes. "We mustn't let all those whom inhabit this building hear your pleas, Jillian." She almost swore that this man had the tongue of a serpent. The trail of saliva she eyed as he pulled back, she wanted nothing but to wipe the evidence leaking from her lips and punch him – hard – to the jawline...

All she could muffle was a moan, one that which could be considered pleasing to the ear. She was drugged enough too where she was aware, though her will was gone and even if she had it Wesker would never take off the restraints. Her face flushed, shades of pink scattered across it as tears were flowing over top of the heated surface. A trail of saliva traced down her chin as the blood was contained by her rival, though the marks on the rose-pigmented flesh slowly began to outline in red once more. Eyes were burning, staring at her, and all she could do was stare back. There was no more hope. Everything she has fought for is gone, all of her morals are shattered, her pride and dreams were non-existent – and he knew that all the while.

Wesker wouldn't speak, his actions were doing that for him – and Jill's expressions did the same for her. It was very sadistic how much of a giveaway these things were, no need for words to tell a story that can be acted, and it made that story more of a painfully memorable one. Breaths came out in pants, Jill tried to turn her head away desperately, though she could still feel the lava-like iris scarring her to the core. Timid fingers took the metallic zipper based at her neck, the sleek suit that was absorbing her heated sweat slowly began to zip down...

Jill wanted to scream. She wanted to thrash about and and kill this man, the man that made her wish she herself were dead. Never had she imagined this would be intended, she had planned to die when she hit the ground out the mansion window along -with- him, not to be here now in the scenario she got caught up in. The agonizing sound of zipper being pulled slowly waved through her ears, inching downwards with each gasp. He was a sick, masochistic monster that was taking advantage of her in her weakest state. She felt something prick her neck as she jolted about, a chilling sensation swept through her artery. There was nothing she could do nor say, no pleads would stop this menace, and the guilt that washed over her was plentiful as all she could think of was Chris...

What would he think...?

A loud moan escaped her bleeding lips, teeth clamped down on her throat where scattered slashes and bruises had been made from her last attempt to flee the room. His tongue harassed every wound, the seeping saliva made them somewhat feel... Another scream escaped, this time to be silenced with a rough collision of his lips against her own, fingernails scraping at the one last spot of ivory skin that was unscratched. With years of pain and torment evident on the scars on her skin, Jill was so used to this feeling, this pain, she was immune too it... Wesker smiled against her skin- she could feel it – as she cried out for him to stop. Valentine felt so tainted, so used and broken that she could no longer fight back the steady flow of tears... She was in Hell, and would forever remain in Hell. Did she regret saving Chris, you ask? Never once would she think such a thought, though she was human, an no human should have to through this when they were on a highway to Heaven.

A low growl rumbled against broken ribs – this scenario has happened many times before, the last occurrence resulted in shattered ribs from resisting - as this was the first time she had no fight left inside her, causing her eyes to swell further, she was sick. Canines bit the surface of the bones roughly, causing a tone stomach once more to raise up off the table, adding pleasure and pain towards the center of her body and shooting through her nerves. Her legs twitched as her arms began to tremble as incoherent words rolled off tainted motives. Clenching her eyes shut as that same wretched mouth fondled the sensitive skin above her navel, ignoring the sensation of the one sign of love she had gotten in years, something her her mind snapped as she let out a blood curdling scream throughout the walls as the last barrier was broken as fingers drifted further south. With a look of almost withdrawal, the midnight-masked man climbed off from atop his prize, slowly thudding his feet on the ground as Valentine squirmed In her restraints – she couldn't take it anymore...

"Finish me." Jill choked out those painful, horrifying words as she heard her former Captain stop in his tracks. She could feel his eyes, she didn't have to open her eyes to know they were on her, and with her exposed chest and navel rising rapidly rang a sob from her racked body. If it means she didn't have to go through this once more, she was willing to get it over with. Let him have his way, satisfy whatever quirk her may have for her and hope he never returned. With almost a confused look, he climbed atop her, staring at her through the thick air and darkness. Mewlings escaped the bottom of the woman's throat as she was openly crying out, her body shaking against his muscular one as she opened her eyes to a half-lidded position, the mark on her neck being one of an injection...

She didn't care if he were the being she hated most.
She didn't mind what Chris would think, he knows her as dead anyway.

You might as well try to make Hell into Heaven, you know.

Jill roughly raised up, breaking the restraints that were undoubtedly a match for her a mere minute ago snapping, wrapping her arms around a muscly neck and curling legs around his wait, the strength of this man began to amaze her... Her eyes seemed to glint, to have a small glowing trail with each movement she made as she clamped down on hip lip for a change, tearing it immediately open as her face turned to the side, smirking widely with eyes visibly narrowed. She moved to his ear, snickering generously as she let go of him completely. Her back hit the table – hard – yet she didn't seem to mind as the vixen-like glare on her face was merely a tease of what to come as her voice came out in a loud, much rougher tone than ever before.

"You've got me, Albert."

Authors Note:
Under a request, this one-shot was made. It was fun too do, and I've always liked the idea of Jill being injected with the same virus Wesker has, and took the opportunity at the end. Sorry this was so short, but it was intended to be this way, and I'm going right back to Shattered! Expect a much longer Chapter addition soon!