It is a most strange series of events that lead Jill to the dueling ring that afternoon, the abnormality of it all does not surpass her notice. Especially as Mr. Redfield, of all people, attempts to talk her out of such a venture.
"Miss Valentine, I implore you, please reconsider this." It is all so very strange for him to attempt to dissuade her actions. Normally, he is egging her on, provoking her to act with impropriety or to argue ceaselessly.
"I will not." Jill says firmly pulling on her gloves.
The entirety of the umbrella is bustling with an unfamiliar excitement. It is something to do, entertainment to break up the monotony of such tiresome work. And it's scandalous to watch women fight, of course.
Jill hopes General Wesker does not catch wind of this excursion, she cannot even begin to fathom his rage at the waste of time.
"I'm not above begging." He says, honesty plain from his facial expression to the tone of his voice. "Consider what you've accepted, Mrs. Wong has no qualms severely injuring you."
"I'll not give her the opportunity." Jill says resolutely.
He sighs, running a hand along his jaw, "Please, Miss Valentine, when I trained with her late husband, I saw just how violently she fights. It is something other worldly in viciousness."
Jill turns pointedly towards him, "Then I will have to sharpen my teeth, I suppose."
He shakes his head, "I cannot in good conscience allow you to put yourself in such danger."
"It is a good thing I did not seek the council of your conscience, in that case." She picks up her saber and observes it closely. "She insulted my father, I cannot allow such disgrace to stand."
"But-"
"Would you allow such indignity to fall to your family?" Jill inquires.
"I-"
"I see that this may not be the wisest of decisions, but I have never praised my prudence." She insists, "If you will excuse me."
"Might I try once more to dissuade you?" He asks.
"You may try, though for all the good it will do you, such a venture is useless."
"What would your father say?" He asks.
Jill bites her lip thinking on the matter, her father… The stoic, calculative fighter would likely be disappointed by the impulsiveness of her decision. Perhaps he would disapprove, or perhaps he knows Mrs. Wong personally and has such a rivalry with her.
"My father would want me to decide for myself what is right." She decides as an answer.
"I doubt very much that he would want you to embark on such a reckless endeavor."
"What do you know of my father?" Jill asks.
"He is a more than decent man, I was honored to speak with him before my departure for London."
"On what grounds?"
He hesitates for a moment, "Do you really wish to know?"
"What sort of question is that?" She returns.
"Jill! Please say it isn't so!" Rebecca and Claire come rushing into the room in which Jill has prepared for the duel.
"You're not facing Mrs. Wong, are you?" Claire grabs at Jill's arm.
"Claire, I thought I told you that the umbrella is not-"
"Hush, Chris, I'm trying to talk some sense into my friend!" Claire swats at him.
"Please don't do this, Jill. Mrs. Wong hasn't lost a duel in her some forty years in the fight." Rebecca says sternly.
"All things must change." Jill says stubbornly.
"Good Mother Mary, help us now." Claire sighs.
"Oh, she will, eventually." Jill rolls her eyes.
"You can't possibly think this is a good idea." Rebecca argues.
"I never said such a thing. Necessary things are hardly ever good ideas." Jill claims.
"You're impossible." Rebecca groans.
"I have been trying for some ten minutes to convince her, ladies. I do not think she will relent to our wishes." Mr. Redfield says, "But please, Miss Valentine, know this is not worth your life."
"Then it is a good thing I've no intention of giving it away." Jill says as her final comment on the matter.
It's not that she wants to fight, it is that she must, in the past six months she has suffered the indignity of words. First from Mr. Redfield, then dressing downs from Dr. Birkin and General Wesker, even Mrs. Birkin has spoken ill of Jill to her face. Mrs. Wong will not be getting the better of her, not this time. Jill's anger has reached its peak, there is no more relenting to the will of those who would gladly see her falter.
Mrs. Wong has a stunning dueling set, not just in her ornately carved blade, her clothing is exquisite as well. She is observing the fine glimmering hilt of her sword as Jill approaches, and moves to removing her overskirt upon spotting the younger girl. She wears all black, pantaloons included, and smiles as Jill enters the ring.
"Oh darling, you don't expect me to fight you wearing such a thing." Mrs. Wong laughs, "That smock is hardly befitting of a warrior."
"On the contrary, real women fight in dresses."
"Ah, perhaps, but warriors are hardly women." Mrs. Wong smirks.
"Only the ones who do not know what it is they are doing." Jill raises a brow, furry burning in her chest.
Mrs. Wong nods, still amused, "You are quite the treat. Such a pity that you were raised by a ludicrous man like Robert."
"You will not speak ill of my father, madam. To do so without his presence, is both unsightly and cowardly."
"Such talk coming from a little girl."
"Little is by far a delicate insult compared to others." Jill rolls her eyes, "In any case, we should hurry this along, my boss will be displeased by the delay in my reports."
"Worry not for your boss, young miss. He'll not dare show his face as long as I am present."
"The General does not care for you, I take it?"
"The General feels the opposite in that regard." She says it with a drawl that makes Jill uncomfortable. All of the reasons for such a statement to be made leave Jill with a most unsightly mental image and curled toes.
"Do you intend to face me in battle? Or do you find that your tongue is the only weapon you yield with any skill?" Jill prods.
Mrs. Wong laughs again, "There is no need for such haste, I am so enjoying our rapport. You've some bite for a woman. How I wish others were so intimate in their lashing words."
"I cannot tell if you are mocking me or attempting to throw me off of my guard." Jill states, observing Mrs. Wong as they begin to circle one another. It is as if they are embarking on a courtly dance, and perhaps, a duel is the most refined dance of them all.
"If I were attempting to do the latter, you'd be unknowing to it." Mrs. Wong chuckles, "Tell me, what was it like, realizing your father is an absurd useless man?"
Jill narrows her gaze, "I believe that you are the only absurd useless person I've encountered thus far."
"So he has not spoken of me then? Ha! Of course not, men are so determined to keep a hold of their pride. He'd never tell the stories of a woman saving his life."
"On the contrary, madam, he did speak of such a tale. My mother committed such an act." Jill does her best to keep her composure, despite the raging fire in her breast.
"Indeed? Then she would have done better to leave him to the beasts." Mrs. Wong scoffs.
"You have merely stated your opinion with no explanation, and as such, I must take these accusations as hearsay and slander."
"So quick to judge."
"So quick to speak ill of those you do not know." In an abrupt motion, Jill moves closer to her opponent.
Mrs. Wong gives her an unbalanced smile followed by a sigh. "You wish to advance?"
"You called for a duel, if it were of the spoken variety, I believe we are in the wrong setting."
"I cannot tell if your stubbornness is from your youth or if it is a gift of God."
"I could say much the same thing of your arrogance. Is it your waning years or God's insistence?"
Mrs. Wong does not appreciate the dig at her age and steels her gaze. "I will enjoy watching you too fall at my feet."
"You can certainly attempt such a feat." Jill takes in a sharp breath as Mrs. Wong finally lunges at her.
It is more thrilling than Jill would ever admit, to have permission to unleash the furry within her. She is vaguely aware of the noise around her, the crowd of umbrella workers itching to see a duel. Still, her focus remains on her body, blocking and parrying each thrust of the sword Mrs. Wong attempts.
Her rival looks unbothered by their circumstance, though Jill could swear to God himself that Mrs. Wong grunts under the weight of each movement. Usually a showman in the sparing ring, Jill feels like an animal against this woman who so easily slights her father.
Perhaps it is this anger that stirs within her, a precision even she finds foreign. But when she disarms the great master, it is as if her movements are not her own. The swing of her sword comes so easily, the sharp twist of her wrist and then the blade opposite her own flies through the air and lands firmly out of the arena. A group of scientists scrambling to avoid it like a smite of lightening.
Jill holds her own sword to Mrs. Wong's throat and snarls at her.
"You belittle the training that bests you so easily." Jill says.
"You think you've won? Are you tired, little one?" Mrs. Wong laughs, whipping around to kick Jill's blade into the air. Just as the master is about to snatch the weapon, Jill raises her own hand and smacks it out of the ring, slicing the leather of her glove in the process.
"If you wished to continue, you need only ask." Jill says it so viciously she practically spits the punch she lays to the side of Mrs. Wong's face.
In that moment, Jill has to wonder what is happening to her. When did she lose the grace and gentleness to her fighting that her father spent so long breeding in her? She's acting like a common street fighter, with the rage of the devil himself.
Mrs. Wong too seems taken aback before she rises to meet her opponent.
"Are you brave? Or are you suicidal?" She asks with a pant.
"Which would you prefer to hear?" Jill asks, equally shocked.
Mrs. Wong bares her teeth before swinging her leg towards the younger. "You should be a little less brash at the idea of defeat."
Jill stands her ground, deflecting the attack. "My courage only rises with every attempt to intimidate me."
"Courage, yes, that is what you possess." Mrs. Wong licks her lips as they begin the brutal dance of hand-to-hand combat. The comment is sarcastic at best, and Jill picks up on the facetiousness faster than she does the next attack.
"What is it then? What do I possess?" Jill begs the question daring a front flip to close the distance between them.
"The most primal attribute of a warrior, indignation."
Jill isn't the type of fighter to act with aggression, with seething rage so hot it burns within her, certainly not indignation. She is meant to be like water cool and smooth, natural and calm in the way it comes to her with ease.
The memory of her father's voice strikes her with each blow and block she engages in against the elder woman.
He'd say to her, "What in God's name are you doing? Aggression lends itself to the enemy. Anger is a weakness to be exploited. Valentines fight with dignity, we fight with honor, and most importantly, we fight with our heads on straight!"
Desperately, Jill grasps for practiced elegance, the kind of lightness her mother would be so fond of.
But Mrs. Wong is not a delicate fighter, she acts brashly and with animalistic tendencies. She bares her teeth with each assault, her body producing small sounds of pleasure at each bit of contact. Jill begins to wonder how any person could be so aroused by combat, a thought which actively repulses her.
There's something different about a duel, Jill decides in the fervor of combat. Where sparring holds a playfulness, a gentleness, and even perhaps a hint of loving nature, duels hold no such virtues. They are violent for violence's sake, chaos incarnate in a ring against two well-worn warriors.
It is as Jill stumbles back from a swift and simple kick of Mrs. Wong's hip – one which sends the older woman to the ground – that she sees the damage done. How Mrs. Wong's nose bleeds and the bruise which cups her jaw, the fire of revenge so distinct behind her eyes it could manifest before them.
Jill feels an odd myriad of things within her, the pain in her side, the guilt in her heavy heart, and maybe she feels a bit of contentment there too. It is one thing to feel betrayed by mankind, it is another to betray your own self.
"What's that look little one?" Mrs. Wong snickers between breaths, "Feeling defeated yet?"
"Perhaps, I am." Jill responds, the heat in her face matching that of the lowering winter sun. "Is there something the matter with such a notion?"
"Aye." Mrs. Wong stands with a smile, "You have some kind of humor to admit defeat to a wounded animal."
"You call yourself such an unflattering term?" Jill straightens her spine as the elder woman approaches her.
"I was alluding to mankind itself." Mrs. Wong states firmly, "I must tell you how disappointing it is that I have finally met a worthwhile opponent. Pity. I did so enjoy the search."
Biting back her surprise, Jill bows courteously toward Mrs. Wong. The woman returns the gesture in kind, with a smile that sparks Jill's wondering anew.
Mrs. Wong turns towards their audience, all of whom seem to be confused and disconcerted by the rapid change in tone.
"Men, take notes, you must know how many of your kind I have killed so easily." Mrs. Wong walks away after that, the crowd of scientists part for her before evaporating from the scene as well.
Claire rushes to hug Jill, it's a painful interaction for the warrior, but she makes not a sound.
"That was a most horrible display, and I will implore you to never do it again!" Claire's tight curls bob with her words, "You could have been killed by that vicious woman and – oh sweet heavens you're bleeding! Come let us wash your wounds."
Jill feels the pull of Claire's strength, and physically, she concurs with the moment. Still, Jill cannot help but leave her mind in the ring, running through each movement, the violent offenses she produced against her opponent. It's embarrassing to think on, that she could have acted with such impropriety, she does not feel accomplished. She feels as though she has wasted a great amount of time.
Could that have been Mrs. Wong's plan all along?
No, she decides, Mrs. Wong is no enemy to her. There is no rhyme or reason as to why she should trust that woman. But her heart decides it promptly and Jill is not one to rethink her own opinions.
She catches a glimpse of Mr. Redfield as the thought concludes, and she feels a shiver run up her spine. How could she be certain of such a belief against a woman she does not know? And how can such a thing exist, when she cannot decide the loyalties of one Mr. Redfield?
Perhaps… Perhaps it is time to revisit some of her pre-established opinions. Especially those concerning the woman who insulted her father, and the man who insulted herself.