Once I stopped producing the antibodies, I was all but forgotten for maybe two weeks. No paralytic gas, no medical procedures. Just a lot of downtime.

No one was interfering with me in my cell, so I tried to make the best use of the time that I could. Push-ups, crunches, running in place, even pull-ups and chin-ups were possible using a pipe coming out of the wall. Taking care of my body could only take up so much of my time, though, and there was a lot of time to burn. One summer when I was 15 I had spent some time at a retreat learning to meditate. I had too much energy and not enough focus at the time to find it useful, but with nothing better to do, I tried it again. I cleared my head of thoughts, of fear, of negative energy. It helped quite a bit. I hadn't realized how unfocused I was, how I'd let terror, helplessness and depression erode my discipline. I would never know when to expect the moment for which I would need to be working at 100% of my capacity. I wouldn't say I found peace that way, but I did find the strength to endure.

My solitude was interrupted one day by the now-familiar hiss of the tetrodotoxin gas. I guessed someone had thought of a use for me. Or, perhaps, I was going to be put back into cryo, to save them money on those gray slabs of pseudo-food. I wasn't sure yet which option would be less horrible.

I was wheeled to an empty test chamber of some kind. I was transferred from my usual wheelchair to a sturdier chair attached to the floor. This chair had its own restraints. It reminded me of Ol' Sparky.

The techs left me there, and all was silent. In a while, I started to regain control over my body. I tested the restraints – good and tight. I may have been a master of unlocking but I was not Houdini.

My motion seemed to trigger some activity outside the chamber. Some lights illuminated a console on the other side of the glass and I could see Wesker hovering over his pet technicians.

"Jill. You'll be happy to know that the antibodies you so thoughtfully produced for me have accelerated my timetable tremendously. Not only that, but we have developed a method of synthesizing them with a strain of genetically engineered bacteria. Too bad this didn't exist before the ruin of Raccoon City – think of all the people that could have been saved. Well, what's done is done.

"So, now I have more time to devote to some of my side projects. One of which you will be helping with today. In the course of our research on the Progenitor virus, we came across a compound that we call P30. It's a serum with some unusual properties. I believe you will find this experience most fascinating."

Two armed guards entered the chamber, followed by a doctor pushing a tray. Things glistened on it that I couldn't make out. "No! Wesker! What are you doing? Please!" I hated myself for begging, but it was almost involuntary; whatever was coming, it was the spawn of Umbrella, and thus the stuff of nightmares I didn't want to have.

The doctor was calm, collected and thoroughly professional. As though speaking for a recording, which I presume he was, he said. "Administering 20ccs of serum designated P30 at 10 hundred hours." As I tensed and struggled with futility, he wiped my neck with a moist piece of gauze that flooded my nose with the tart smell of alcohol. I tried to turn my head and pull away from him, but this just gave him an easier target as he jammed the syringe straight into my carotid artery.

The physical response was immediate and excruciating. It was like a flaming explosion in my head, with heat and fire pulsing out to the rest of my body. I screamed, certain that this was what it felt with to be burned alive.

Through my screams I heard Wesker: "Interesting."

The doctor had retreated to safety at Wesker's side. The guards remained with me, sealed inside the chamber, tensely watching me writhe and strain and grunt. The pain began to subside and I felt… strange. Different. Better.

My mind had never thought so clearly. I could sense things that I never imagined were there. It was as though all life before it had been a dream, and I was only now awake.

And I felt strong… so strong. Not just strong, but more in control. I could tell things that were going on inside me. I could feel my heart rate decrease, my breathing slow, my sweat evaporate, my adrenalin subside. I had no frame of reference to describe how I felt at that moment. I felt like I had previously been incomplete, and now I was capable of anything.

As the pain vanished completely, I wasted no time. Before I even knew I was doing it, I'd broken all the restraints on the chair as though they were paper. The guards aimed their guns at me, but I was airborne while they were still aiming at the chair. Neither managed to fire more than a couple of rounds before their guns were on the floor, targeted by a pair of surgically precise sweeping kicks. I was doing moves I'd never been taught. I saw the guards like beings in slow motion, but I saw more than that – I could see what they were going to do before they even knew they were going to do it. One went for his stun baton; his neck was broken before it was unholstered. The other made a move for the door, but no one was letting him out. I felt like I was defying gravity as I bounded off of one wall to land sitting on his shoulders, his neck held tightly between my thighs. How do I explain the next move? I'm pretty sure it was in defiance of the laws of physics as I understand them, but with a quick jerk backward, the guard and I both flipped end over end. It ended with the guard pinned down under me, my knees on his shoulders, his terrified face staring up at me between my thighs. I slammed the heel of my palm up into his nose. I felt cartilage snap off and stab his brain. Instant kill.

What the hell had just happened?

I leapt for the door, pounding with my newfound strength, but the chamber had apparently been built to withstand something like me.

"Incredible," whispered Wesker. "So what do you think, Jill? Good stuff, isn't it?"

I dashed for the pane of safety glass that separated us and punched with a force and speed that should not only have shattered the glass, but every bone in my hand. Somehow neither was damaged. The explosive sound of my hit made the techs under Wesker's command jump back in shock and fear. Satisfied, I paced back and forth like a predator and said: "Why don't you come in here, Wesker, and I'll show you just how good it is."

Wesker didn't even flinch; he just laughed that condescending laugh of his. "I might just do that. But first, this serum has another effect that I'm just dying to try out."

Huh?

"Jill, there is something I would like you to do: I would like you slap yourself in the face."

I felt the sting before the words registered. I looked at the red palm of my right hand and touched my cheek where I'd hit myself. Wesker enjoyed my confusion.

"The mind boggles at the possibilities. Jill: sit down and stay put until I tell you otherwise."

I sat, as ordered. I did not want to sit, but I sat. This made no sense. Terror and confusion overwhelmed my senses. What's happening to me?

Wesker joined me in the chamber. "Now Jill, what was it you were saying? Oh yes, you're going to show me just how good this serum is." He walked around to stand in front of me. "So why don't you lash out at me?"

"I… I can't."

"I'm standing right here. Wouldn't you like to try some of those new moves on me?"

"Yes." God, would I! How could I be frozen in place like this? Why would no part of my body obey my will?

"So why can't you?"

"I don't know!" I cried, starting to feel dizzy and sick. Beads of sweat appeared at my brow. My head began to slump forward. Wesker tssked.

"Too bad… such a marvelous formula, such potential. But metabolized so quickly. No real practical application."

When the serum wore off, it felt worse than any hangover I'd ever had. I leaned forward and puked right there, barely missing Wesker's shoes. He looked down and gingerly stepped around the puddle of my sickness.

"Ah, well. This has been fun, but the results are consistent with our initial findings – disappointing, but not unexpected. I'm afraid it's back to the drawing board. Thank you so much for participating."

Wesker strode out, having lost interest in this little game. Shivering and aching, I was loaded into my wheelchair without the strength to fight, and taken back to my cell. Dumped into bed, I simply passed out.

The next morning I felt much improved, but the whole experience had been beyond disturbing. P30, he had called it. What was it? How did it give me such strength, such speed? And why had I been unable to resist Wesker's direct instructions? My God, what if he figured out a way to make that stuff last longer? He could have an army of indestructible superhumans, completely obedient to his every whim… I didn't want to think about that possibility. It was too nightmarish.

Of course, I hadn't learned the true nature Uroboros yet. And I hadn't even heard of The Jewel.

I had yet to learn what the word "nightmare" means.