Disclaimer: Resident Evil and its characters are not owned by me, they belong to Capcom. I take no credit in writing this story, et.c. You know the drill.
A/N: This story popped up in my head when I read the instruction manual for REmake. In Jill's character bio, it says she has "been decorated for her bravery in many dangerous situations where her cool has kept herself and others alive." I thought I'd come up with my own backstory for that little factoid. Please read and review, constructive criticism accepted!
October 7th, 2001 - Somewhere in Europe
The sun was starting to set as Jill Valentine sat down by her table to finish her second cup of coffee. Outside her kitchen window, she could see the maples' leaves falling to the ground in a beautiful display of red, yellow and orange, leaving the trees naked in preparation for the approaching European winter. It got a bit cold this time of the year, but she was gradually beginning to accommodate to the climate. Wearing thick sweaters and jackets was just something she would have to get used to. She had been lucky to get this apartment so far away from her real home, the United States. While she missed the somewhat more active city life there, she couldn't help but marvel in the astounding scenery of the European countryside. More importantly though, laying low in a place like this helped her stay off Umbrella's map long enough so she and the other surviving S.T.A.R.S members could come up with a final plan to destroy the evil corporation once and for all.
Jill snarled to herself.
"Umbrella...".
Not only had the sons of bitches lured both the Bravo and the Alpha team into that damned mansion three years ago, they were also the ones responsible for the T-virus outbreak in Raccoon City (and ultimately the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people). It was merely by a thin thread Jill actually managed to escape the city before the entire thing went sky-high. Had it not been for Carlos Oliviera and Barry Burton, perhaps she wouldn't have been so lucky.
Nevertheless, now was the time to act. It was time to stop Umbrella, and wipe those silly smiles off their well-paid, heartless faces. She just had to wait for Chris Redfield and the others to join her, so they together could decide on the best course of action.
The slender brunette stood up, placed her cup on the counter and went out on her balcony. The fading sunlight reflected off her milky white skin, her complexion lighter than usual due to the ongoing autumn. A sudden rush of cold air made her shiver, having her coil up her arms tighter around her deep-blue sweater. She looked up into the distance, but what she saw was nothing more than a seemingly never-ending forest of beech and elm, and far, far away, some mountains. A feeling of hopelessness struck her. What if we fail the whole Umbrella operation? What if someone of us ends up killed? What if... I die?
The thoughts started to flood her mind and the overlying feeling of uncertainty somehow made her memories come back to sprawling life. Surprisingly, the first thing she started thinking about was not the mansion incident, nor the escape from Raccoon. It was something else from a long time ago... from a time when she wasn't even a member of S.T.A.R.S.
It was... back in the days of 1994. New York City. Jill could remember it so well due to the fact that at the time, she had just reached her nineteenth birthday. Back then, she was still a blue-eyed little girl, fresh out of police academy straight into the hardships of life, having just recently begun working for the force. She still remembered her first assignment. It had been a cakewalk. A shoplifting girl, about 15 years old. Said she 'needed' the dress for a party, because nothing else in her wardrobe would do. The shop owner obviously didn't agree with her. Jill was just happy to be on duty.
The next couple of months consisted mostly of paperwork and some minor domestic disturbances. Jill was often left these types of duties, since they provided her the experience without posing any significant threat to her. In the issue of spousal abuse, she found that the cases often had the same premise: a guy hits his significant other for some dumbass reason, whether it be alcohol, jealousy or whatever. The wife/girlfriend calls the police, which forces the guy in question into 'sorry mode'. He acts apologetic and begs the woman to forgive him for what he's done. By the time the police gets there, he's already had his wish granted.
Jill had been through the scenario so many times, she could recognize that face anywhere: the face of the abused woman standing in the doorway. The woman's eyes are swollen from crying, bruised from one too many punches, but her mouth is smiling in relief. Looking deep into those eyes, however, anyone could see the message they are desperately trying to convey. "Please... stay! Come back and help me...!"...
It was 7:35 P.M when Jill Valentine, 19 year old rookie cop, received the radio transmission. Something big was going down in her vicinity: someone had reported gunshots coming from one of the houses in the residential district she was just in the process of patrolling. She was still too green for a mission like this, but it was just two blocks away, and no one else from the force was available. Jill was going to have to go in and investigate herself.
The sun had just gone down over the horizon, leaving place for the moon as the current ruler of the sky, and it hadn't taken long before Jill stood in front of the fancy white villa at Haddonfield Road, 34B. "Okay", she said silently to herself, trying her best to remember what she had been trained to do in situations like these. Her hand resting on the Beretta in her holster, she slowly approached the front door. Her eyes darted frantically from left to right, looking for unseen threats which weren't actually there.
"Take it easy..."
As she reached the entrance of the building, she stopped, took a deep breath, and knocked casually on the door.
"N.Y.P.D! Open the door!"
No answer. She paused for a few seconds.
"Open the door or I will use force!"
Still, nothing. She looked at the windows on the side and none of them emitted any light. Was there anyone home?
Jill felt the handle. Locked. The door looked very sturdy and she would probably not be able to kick it open by herself. Unfortunately, she didn't have her lockpicks with her so she would have to find another way in. She drew the handgun from its holster and held it raised as she began walking around the perimeter of the house. The grass was soaked from the rain earlier which created large stains on her blue uniform, and her boots made large noises as they came down on the ground, again and again. The moonlight was of little aid to her in the darkness, as she continued forward, stumbling on a garden hose on the way.
Somehow, it was as if she was descending into the unknown, the unexplored. While this was a completely new experience to her, she wasn't sure how she felt at the moment. Scared? No. Her training had helped her fight her fears and believe in her own abilities. Dazzled? A bit, yes. Just earlier today she had pulled over an old lady for speeding, and tonight, well... she could very well be in the danger of her life. Everything had just... happened so fast.
As Jill reached the backyard, she suddenly heard a sharp noise from inside the building. She couldn't exactly tell what it was, but it felt like something more than just an ambient sound. She slowly started to walk towards the backdoor and just as she was about to reach for it, she froze. There it was again. It sounded almost like... a voice. A female one. Her hand instantly went for the doorknob. "Please don't be locked, please don't be locked...". The knob turned and revealed that the door was in fact, unlocked. As it slid open, Jill aimed her Beretta into the unsecured room.
It was completely dark, save for a single lamp sitting on a table, illuminating just the desktop and a smaller area around it. In the darkness, Jill could see that it looked like your average living room: a large TV in the corner, a couch with a table next to it, some bookcases filled to the rim with literature, and a fireplace. Nothing special. The room was connected to a kitchen on the far end through an open door. It looked secure: there wasn't exactly any good hiding spots in the room where a potential killer could hide. She pressed forward.
"N.Y.P.D! Anyone there?"
Jill felt a trickle of sweat run down her forehead. Maybe she was a bit scared after all.
"If there's anyone there, come out with your hands above your head now!"
The house stayed completely silent, the only sound produced being the thud of Jill's shoes as she walked over the wooden floor. She kept reminding herself to stay sharp, to not let her anxiety get the best of her. It would only make her hands shake and mess up her aim. Plus, the chances of accidentally shooting an innocent would be greater. Jill continued to motivate herself mentally: "Breathe... come on Jill... you can do it...".
Jill quickly passed the kitchen, and as soon as she stepped out into the hall, she realized something was wrong. Right by her feet where she was currently standing, large bullet holes were visible. She kneeled down to examine them more closely. Buckshot. Someone was definitely packing heat, which meant she would have to be careful. The measly pistol she was equipped with would be no match for a shotgun, especially in a close-quarters environment such as this one.
She started to rise from her kneeling position, when footsteps behind her made her gasp. She spun around right in time to be hit in the forehead with the butt-end of a revolver.
The world started to spin uncontrollably and Jill heard someone laugh quietly before her vision went completely black...