The experiment with the Licker was just the beginning. Jake found himself being subjected to a series of 'tests', each one crazier than the last. He'd endured what could only be described as torture as they pushed him to his limits. Exposing him to extreme temperatures, strapping him down as they inflicted a variety of cuts and burns upon him while they monitored his pain response and the rate at which he healed. He had nothing on Sherry, he knew that. But Jake had always known he was a little different, even as a child. He was rarely sick, which was unusual in his home town. He'd broken a few bones in his youth of course, his impulsive nature couldn't be helped, and had always assumed he was lucky they were clean breaks, making them quick to heal without complication.
But as he'd gotten older and been cut, stabbed and shot... he'd noticed how he would often not even notice the wound until after the fight. Once his adrenaline wore off the pain would begin as a dull aching or burning sensation. Again he'd assumed he was just lucky, or that his comrades who were screaming in agony as each bullet was pulled from their flesh were simply weaker than him. His survival of the avalanche made a little more sense, his ribs which were fractured and bruised in numerous places should have left him far more incapacitated than he had been. Now he began to realise that whatever was in his blood held more than just a cure to this 'C-Virus'. It made him... special.
Jake grit his teeth as the word crossed his mind, remembering the woman's smirk when she told him. Her smile was one of a predator eyeing its prey. Jake had never killed a person unless he was being paid or in self-defence. It was a rule of his, a twisted attempt at maintaining some sort of moral code by not letting things get personal. But her...
Jake glared up at the camera that followed his every move as he spat a mouthful of blood at the ground, lifting his middle finger as he hoped she was the one watching as a scaly, mutated monster writhed at his feet. It squealed as he brought his foot down on what he guessed was the things throat, feeling cartilage being crushed beneath his heel. It trembled and jerked before falling still. Jake pulled at his torn shirt as he turned his back to the camera, using it to clean the putrid mix of blood, spit and sweat from his face as the woman's cold, dead eyes pierced his thoughts. Was she enjoying the show, he wondered.
While he waited for the rabble of armed guards to drag him away he inspected the creature as its flesh began to hiss and bubble. This was another new B.O.W that he'd never seen before. Clearly another failure. It had sloped toward him, clumsy and awkward. Jake had almost felt pity as it seemed to cower from his raised hands. For a second he wondered how it had come to be... had it been a person once, like his former squad who'd been transformed by the injections given to them by his psychopathic jailer?
The thought was fleeting. It didn't matter now. Jake had put the thing out of its misery as quickly as he could.
The usual routine followed each kill. He was hosed down, given fresh clothes and examined. His vitals were monitored, samples taken and wounds photographed and tended to. Then it was back to his cell where he was delivered a surprisingly generous meal before being left once more until it was time for the next 'test'. Jake could feel his mind beginning to break with the endless monotony of it all. Each time the door hissed as it swung open he wondered if it was worth coming back at all. All he'd need to do was stop fighting and it would all be over.
The memory of a scream shattered these thoughts. His questions about Sherry had been ignored, he didn't know if she was still alive or even still in the same building. When he closed his eyes he tried to picture a room lit by a crackling fire, a blizzard raging outside as Sherry stood trying to warm herself by the flames. He remembered how he'd taken her coat from her hands and stitched the fabric back together as she watched, wrapped in his own jacket which he'd offered her.
He'd told himself it was to stop her shivering from distracting him. Jake did not display random acts of chivalry nor did he care for her well-being beyond keeping her alive to receive his payment. He'd also told himself that her appreciative smile meant nothing, that he hadn't felt something stir inside him when she'd pulled the over-sized material tighter. The bumps that appeared on his skin had been from the chill in the air, nothing more.
Except this image would always shift to another cabin in the snow, a hand brushing against his brow as he fought to ignore the closeness of the woman stood over him, wiping away the blood from his brow. Sometimes he wondered if he'd dreamt everything that had happened in that cabin. His own voice would echo back to him, bouncing off the walls as he recalled their time together in the mine. These were the memories that left a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to forget it all with every sit-up that burned, every lap of the room that left him sweating and exhausted.
If he had just walked away like he'd threatened to do, he might not even be here right now. He could be halfway around the world doing whatever the hell he wanted. Letting the world deal with its own problems while he made bank in the chaos. Just like he'd done his whole life.
Jake collapsed on the bed, breathing hard. He had too much empty time, which meant he found himself thinking too much. Something he avoided doing as a general rule. What was the point? The past held nothing but pain and regret.
It was as this thought crossed his mind that the familiar hiss and whine of the door to his cell opening caught his attention. With a tired groan Jake peered out from beneath the arm he'd folded over his eyes, trying to block out the relentless white. Every muscle in his body tensed as he recognised the sound of heels before even laying eyes on the woman who'd thrown him to the Licker. As always she came flanked with muscle. She gestured for them to stand aside, her face filled with disgust as they dared move too close to her. A few months ago Jake would have been weighing up his chances. He sat up on the bed, swinging his feet onto the floor before leaning forward, one hand resting on his leg while the other twitched at his side as he imagined wrapping his fingers around her throat. He could get to her before a shot would be fired, use her as a shield as he escaped the building...
"How are we feeling today, Mr Muller?"
The woman's drawling voice was just as irritating as he remembered. Jake stretched his arms above his head, smirking as the J'avo tightened their grip on their weapons as their disfigured faces watched him closely.
"Never better." Jake replied, dropping his arms to his lap with a shrug. "I do have one request thought."
The woman gave a thin smile as she raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Oh?"
"Is it too much to ask for a shirt to wear in this place? I mean, evil masterminds are usually rolling in cash. You can't tell me its not in the budget."
She almost laughed, her thin lips parting just enough that Jake saw the point of her tongue running over perfect white teeth. He suppressed the urge to shiver. He hadn't seen much of this mystery woman since his capture, but even now she still gave him the creeps. There was just something off about her.
"Perhaps we will see what we can do to make you more... comfortable." she paused before gesturing behind her, her fingers snapping impatiently before one of her minions appeared with a chair in their grasp. She sat with her ankles crossed to one side, her knee length skirt riding up slightly as she placed one hand over the other in her lap. Despite himself Jake let his eyes wander. He was used to watching people, making a mental assessment of allies and enemies alike. If it weren't for the way she made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end with every cold smile and glint of her dead eyes he might say she was an attractive woman.
"Is there something else that could help with that?" she asked with feigned innocence.
Jake felt his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth at her mocking tone. "I'm not that desperate." he told her smoothly, unwilling to be toyed with further.
"Yes, you're quite used to isolation aren't you. From the information we gathered you're something of a lone wolf, so why would someone like you be working with a member of the United States Government?"
"All these months and you're just asking me now?"
The woman waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, I already know Miss Birkin's motivations. It just surprises me that you would go along with such a farce. I mean, did you really believe that you could make a difference? A man with your reputation would be... reviled."
Jake knew this was some sort of trap, or perhaps even another twisted mind game. Though what she hoped to gain from this conversation he couldn't yet figure out. With a tilt of his head he tried to appear nonchalant. "Cash. What else is there."
"What else indeed," she hummed to herself. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the groans of the J'avo still hovering at the door. Jake considered for a moment what could have been had the injection he'd administered worked. He too would be a twisted version of himself, barely recognisable and driven mad with blood-lust.
"So do you want to tell me the reason for this little chit chat. I may not have had much in the way of company lately, but honestly, I kind of prefer it that way. No offence."
"You have many things in common with your father, but you certainly lack his charm, I must say."
It took all of Jake's control to remain impassive at the mention of his father. Wesker, that was what she'd called him. Jake had heard the name in whispers only a few times, he was spoken of with reverence... or fear, sometimes both. But Jake still knew nothing other than his father was the reason for his 'special' blood.
"You sound disappointed." Jake quipped. He realised this conversation was a battle itself, a test of wills to see if she could crack his aloof façade. She was enjoying the fact that she had information he wanted. It was a power-trip for her.
"I had expected a little more from the Wesker bloodline, but then again you were raised by your mother after all." she tutted mockingly, "Such a... damaged woman. No wonder she bore such a troubled son. If only she hadn't stolen you away, who knows what you could have become."
He couldn't help the way his hands fisted or how his shoulders began to shake. She knew about his mother, she probably knew all the terrible things that had been done to him... and because of him. She was messing with his head and Jake couldn't allow her to win.
"You know, I really couldn't give a shit about this Wesker and you don't know anything about me lady-"
"I know what happened beneath the mountains. Those poor men trapped in the mines..."
Jake felt bile rise in his throat. How... how did she know so much? Unless...
"Did Sherry tell you?"
The words were out before he could stop them. The narrowing of her eyes told him he'd fallen for her games.
"Would that be a problem?"
Jake shook his head, trying to steal a few more moments to pull himself together. Why would Sherry have told anyone about the collapsed mine shaft... unless she'd had no choice. He eyed the woman, his expression murderous as he considered what they must have done to her...
In response she merely tilted her head to one side, her expression pitying. "Oh, don't be upset. Miss Birkin didn't tell us a thing, in fact she's quite tight-lipped. They've trained her well, or perhaps it was all those years spent as a test subject. We've had to get creative with our own experimentation."
Jake knew she'd won. She'd known exactly what to say to get a reaction from him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could hear was the sound of a scream. He tried not to think about what had been done to him, tried not to imagine what they must have been doing to her. The J'avo sensed the change in him, their weapons raised as their mistress laughed lightly.
"I was under the impression your only interest in Miss Birkin was the payment you would receive from her superiors?"
Slowly Jake could feel the blood in his veins calming. His ears were buzzing and in his mind he could picture himself wrapping the hands still tightly clenched before him around the dark-haired woman's neck. It had been a long time since Jake had wanted to kill someone purely to satisfy his anger. The feeling was like lead in his gut. "Seems you know me better than I know myself."
"Men are usually quite predictable creatures. What was it, the blonde hair and big, blue-eyes? You don't strike me as the type to fall for the helpless damsel, it's a good thing Miss Birkin is made of tougher stuff. No pun intended."
Jake remained silent. There was no point playing the fool now. This was just another form of torture he had to endure.
"Perhaps you'd like to tell me about your time after escaping Edonia. We lost you for a time, if it weren't for the avalanche who knows if we'd have been able to pinpoint your location before someone else got their hands on you."
The memory of his time wandering the freezing mountain, being chased through the tunnels and almost being buried alive felt like a distant nightmare. Jake felt his anger dissipate as her words sunk in. It had been his fault they'd been captured. His reckless decision to bring down the mountain to kill the snake-like B. would of course act as a beacon for their location. He was the reason he'd been locked in this cell for months. Why Sherry had to endure more torture.
"So tell me, what caused the second avalanche in the mountains?"
Jake didn't bother to hide the way his shoulders dropped in defeat.
"As I thought. You inherited much from your father, including his penchant for the dramatic and the foolhardy. It's almost as if you have a death wish..."
"Maybe..." he finally spoke, his voice worn and thin.
The amusement in the woman's eyes faded as something within Jake seemed to break. With a sigh she leaned forward, examining Jake with what could have been disgust before slowly rising from her seat. "Perhaps I was wrong. Or perhaps you merely lack your father's arrogance. Either way, you bore me."
Jake watched without a word as she strode from the room, one of her lackeys carrying the chair as they followed. He felt hollow as the door closed behind them. Pressing his fingers against his eyes he felt exhaustion overwhelm him. For the first time he began to feel hopeless.
Laying back on the bed Jake closed his eyes to the glaring light and found himself thankful for the solitude for the first time since his capture. Perhaps this was his penance, his time to atone for the blood that covered his hands. He'd never sought out forgiveness for a thing in his life, there was nothing to feel sorry for when every day was a battle for survival. He didn't believe in gods or signs, fate and destiny. Every shitty thing that had happened was because of a decision made by him.
And he may have been able to make his peace with that, had it been just himself paying the price.
NOTE: I know it's been months, it's been difficult to write for a variety of reasons but I'm slowly back in the flow and Evil Ada is strangely inspiring to write! I've been trying to figure out why Jake would 'soften up' between Edonia and China, and I know this story is straying from game canon somewhat but here's my take on it!
Next chapter, more Doc Archer, Jake learns more about his father... and possibly their escape begins.
Disclaimer: I own no rights to the RE franchise. (Do we still have to include this? I started writing fanfiction over ten years ago, don't know if its still necessary!)