The Devil's Bargain

Seven:

S.T.A.R.S.

Raccoon City, 1997

They loaded their gear into the chopper that Brad had fired up and was fiddling with the controls and the levers on it. Nobody helped Jill on the chopper. She wasn't a girl to them at the end of the day. She was just Jill. The dude with tits.

When it came to the mission, she wasn't even a girl to Chris. Who was rapidly becoming very familiar with those tits. They put on headgear and strapped in, sitting around the chopper as it lifted up and headed toward the mission.

Over the headgear, Wesker's voice was loud and tinny, like listening inside of a can. "When we touch down, the objective will be to get into the building with a minimal amount of attention. Jill? We will cover you while you get us in passed whatever locks are baring the way. I will run point on this operation and Chris and Barry will protect the rear. Joseph will cover the flanks with Jill. Brad?"

"Yes sir?"

"You'll keep the chopper as close as possible in case we require and evacuation."

"Roger."

"The nature of the mission remains to clear the perimeter, capture any suspects that can be taken into custody without direct assault, and rescue any potential hostages. Use of necessary force is authorized. In the event of separation, the rendezvous point will be the drop off and evacuation point. Are we clear?"

The word clear was echoed from each member. And the helicopter had reached their destination. They were over the roof of the building they were planning to infiltrate.

They leapt clear and grabbed their gear. Brad lifted up and away into the rainy sky. This rain, Chris mused, would it ever stop?

Jill was already hurrying to the fire escape door that would take them into the stairs. She dropped low and pulled her lock picks to get to work.

Chris studied the surrounding area. This part was abandoned and had been for some time. Why? With all the money Umbrella was dumping into the city, why not rebuild the industrial district? An influx of commerce and production would spell unparalleled funds for the city. It was odd that it remained empty and unused. Chris wasn't much of a business man, but he knew wasted resources and potential when he saw them.

"We're in." Jill said softly.

She stepped back, they all assumed their positions. Wesker grabbed the knob and nodded off to them. And through the door he went.

They cleared the stairwell and moved together down it. At the first door down, they nodded off again and Wesker went through. Jill and Joseph were after him with Barry and Chris following up the rear. They emerged into the main area of the top floor.

This had once been a processing plant obviously. There were still carcasses of rotting meat hanging from hooks and the horror that comes with old death. Blood was splattered and scattered from the one end to the other over the area meant to cut and bleed the livestock brought there and marked for death. It was the smell of fart and old blood that did it, somebody gagged.

Jill thought, do NOT vomit. If somebody threw up, she'd throw up. That was NOT how you impressed Albert Wesker.

The area was wide open and had grating for the floor. You could see down onto the bottom floor from the top, vaguely. And their boots clanged as they walked across it. A quick sweep showed the top floor was secure.

Wesker turned to them. "Joseph and Barry, clear the West the stairwell and the coordinating offices. Jill, Chris, with me."

Naturally, Jill thought, she was going to do something stupid here because they were with the Captain. Naturally. Wesker signaled with his head and they opened the door into the east side of the processing plant.

They could hear voices now, talking loudly and shouting. There was laughter. Wesker gestured with two fingers and a series of hand signals that told them what he wanted. Chris moved, dropping the sniper rifle into his hands. He took the ladder, silently, against the far wall where they stood. Jill moved to the opposing wall of the short staircase across from Wesker and put her back to it.

Wesker and Jill both had their guns up while they waited for Chris to get into position. Jill was a little entranced looking over at the Alpha team captain. He had a way of staring at you that made you feel, vaguely, that he was trying to get a glimpse into your soul. What did he see there? She wondered. Emptiness?

She shivered.

Chris' voice came, softly, through the head set. "In position. There are six potential hostiles. And it looks to be three hostages. Initial investigation is revealing that they are armed and dangerous. Go ahead with orders."

"Stand down, Redfield. But stay alert."

"Roger, Captain."

Wesker glanced at Jill and signaled with his hand. She nodded, understanding that he wanted her to cover him. He moved away from the wall and progressed down the stairs.

What was happening in the room at the bottom of the stairs was frightening. Cult, they'd said, and it was that. Satanic it appeared in nature and clearly bent on terrorism based on the maps and pictures lining the walls. There was an inverted pentagram painted in blood on the floor.

The cultists were dressed normally, which was surprising. Jill thought, what did you expect? Cloaks and chanting? Maybe. Maybe she had. They were clearly setting up for a slaughter though. And the three people trapped in the chairs were meant to be a sacrifice.

Wesker nodded and they emerged onto the bottom floor.

Wesker and Jill both sought cover behind opposing walls again. And Wesker called, "R.P.D. Freeze and lower your weapons."

Did they? Naturally not. Why would it be that simple?

The first one lifted one of the AR-15's he was holding and Chris put him down. Quick, clean and loud in the quiet room.

They didn't come quietly.

The next one met his untimely end via Wesker's pistol right between the eyes. He leaned around the wall and popped off a single shot. Finito. Impressive, Jill thought, and waited to see if the rest wised up. Apparently, they weren't the smartest guys on earth.

The door to the stairs opened and in came more of the bad guys. Just like that.

Jill and Wesker separated off their walls and found cover beyond barrels and a book case. Chris lived up to his name. He was the eye in the sky and she'd seen him drill a guy once on a windy day from a thousand yards. He covered the hostages, primarily. And picked off the ones that made an attempt to finish them off.

Bullets smashed into the floor and the wall behind her as the guys on the stairs tried to kill her and Wesker. She covered him as he returned fire, watching him waste not a single shot.

Over the headset, Chris said, "Orders?"

Wesker answered, "Try to leave one alive for questioning. Otherwise shoot to kill."

"Roger."

Jill glanced up, randomly, during the heavy fire fight. And there two of them. Two of them. And they knew where Chris was and were advancing on his position.

She aimed between the metal slats in the floor and pulled the trigger. The heavy round took off the top of his head. She watched Chris roll to his back, pull his side piece from his thigh, and drill the second in a single move.

He nodded at her through the metal and she gave him a thumbs up.

But splitting her attention cost her. She felt the bullet whiz passed her face and slice her cheek open as it went. She ducked, feeling the hot went spill of blood.

Wesker's voice came, "Barry, Joseph. Sound off. We're under fire and need assistance."

"Things are clear here, Captain," Barry came back to him, "Hold down and stay down. We're on the way."

The far door on the side of the main floor burst open and they were now seriously out numbered. Chris picked them off as fast as he could but he couldn't get them all. And they knew where he was now, so his stealth was blown.

He turned his weapon and picked off the last two facing Jill and Wesker instead from behind.

Wesker said, "Chris, cease cover fire. We'll cover you from down here. Direct assault and protect the hostages."

"Roger."

Jill felt her eyes flare. What was he telling him to do?

Chris grabbed the edge of the balcony he was on and swung down into the mess of bad guys. Just like that. She was horrified.

He swung back and kicked out, taking three with him as he landed. Wesker signaled to her and they moved to a closer position to cover him. One lifted a gun and Jill drilled him in the chest. Chris was something to see with those flying fists, she thought. He fought like a brawler, all fists and power. He feinted left, pulled his side arm, and put two in a guy rushing him from behind. Wesker took out the one who was trying to kill him from the doorway while he did.

The interesting part about Chris was that he'd just done it. He'd done it. He'd given up a relatively safe position and leapt down into danger because Wesker had said it. That was impressive and she saw the respect for it on Wesker's face.

Total obedience, he'd said. And he was getting it.

Chris ducked down and came up, uppercut and hook. He drove a kick into a groin and rolled back to throw an elbow. He was really good at it. She'd known he was good with his hands but hadn't actually seen him in action before. She liked it.

The door behind them flew open again and in poured more angry cultists. These ones were holding knives and shouting. And, oh yeah, they were wearing cloaks now. There we go, Jill thought, that was more like it.

Jill's gun ran dry and she pulled her knife. Wesker nodded. And in she went, straight into the fray. Her blood fired with it. The thrill of the fight, she thought, and they were animals for it.

She dropped low and took out two sets of legs. Their hacking and slashing was deadly, angry, and misdirected. There was no skill here, just rage.

She blocked, reversed, and stabbed three vicious strikes into the belly of the closest one. The next one grabbed her hair and she rolled her shoulder, slid to one knee and sliced his throat open. The blood burst and splattered her face. It was like being baptized.

A big fat one grabbed her around the waist and picked her up against his front, squeezing her. She threw a reverse head butt and kicked him in the groin with one foot. He dropped her and grunted. She stabbed him in that fat belly and he backhanded her.

Jill went left, hitting the wall. She felt him grab the back of her head and she knew he was going to smash her face into the wall and splatter her there like road pizza. Wesker was just there, just there, like smoke. He drove a kick into the back of his knee, rotated on his hip and leg, and put a straight arm punch into that beefy chest. The fat man dropped her and she spun low, came up in an uppercut, and hit him square in the solar plexus.

Wesker rolled into that fat body, pulled his arm over his chest and jerked. He put the fat guy into a beautiful hip toss, held onto the arm as he went, rolled it up behind his back and drove a knee down into him. Jill leap frogged over Wesker and covered him. She triple back kicked two more that were running at them. The first one got a punch to the face and the second, she swept down, took his feet out from him and buffalo kicked him away.

The first one made a grab for her and she took his arm, hyper extended it, and drove her hand up under it. She dislocated the arm and rolled across his back while he screamed. She didn't stop, couldn't find it in her stop. She looped an arm over his neck, rolled him down, drove an elbow in his back and put him on his face. She finished him off by mounting him and slicing his throat open.

The first one tried to run. She threw down her shoulder, rolled, and threw the knife when she came up. It hummed, thrummed, and hit him between the shoulder blades, putting him on his face.

She was so into it, she didn't know there was one right behind her. He grabbed her and, poof, she thought, there was Chris. She watched him plant that foot, drive that hip, and knock his teeth down his throat. The guy dropped Jill and Chris grabbed him under his arm, around his throat, dropped to one knee and broke his neck with it. She watched him jerk his arm and heard the crack of bone. Reverse neck breaker. Beautiful.

Oh, she thought, oh oh oh. Click.

"Down!"

She dropped and Wesker threw a kick over her head. It connected with two of them in mid slice. Stop watching Chris Redfield fight, her brain said, and pay attention.

Wesker scissored his legs, rolled through it, knocked the guys around like bowling pins and rolled across the floor. Chris pulled him up and they stood back to back. Jill backed up toward them. They were holding their own, kinda, but they were in trouble. There was still three to one odds.

Go down or throw down, Jill thought, why not?

They circled, keeping each other at the other's back. When one moved, the others merged, covering them. They never let their backs stay exposed. That's what team work meant.

Chris dropped down, picked up one around the hips, and threw him out. He hit the others behind him in a spill of angry shouting. Wesker swept low, rolled up, and threw three rapid punches into the face of the one closest to them. He rolled across his back, wrapped his arm around that head, and twisted. The neck popped, wet and loud.

Jill kicked twice into the groin of the one rushing her. She spun back in a reverse roundhouse, looped her leg around his neck, rolled up and threw her body back to the ground. She grabbed his face with her thighs, twisted her hips, and snapped his neck. She finished by the throwing the body into the waiting ones beyond it.

They made a grab for Chris and he feinted, went left, and sent a jab and three solid straight arm hits right into the face. It was fast, like a hornet, pop pop pop. He grabbed the flailing arm, rolled it behind his back, put him on his face and broke the arm. Snap. While the guy screamed, he drove his boot to the back of his skull. Pop, wet and loud and crunchy.

Wesker had two of them and they were trying to hit him with those knives.

Jill called, "Captain?"

"Hold position!"

He ducked as one swung, grabbed the wrist and jerked. He rolled up behind the guy and used his own knife to kill the companion. The other guy swung, Wesker drove the hand he held into his sternum, jerked, and arched blood across the room. He rotated, still holding that arm, twisted the knife and used it against the guy holding it. He jabbed it into his chest and watched him gurgle blood.

Jill turned back and got a fist to the face for it. It hit her hard, mid face. And it fucking hurt. She reeled but held her feet, dropping low as he raced her. She went to her back, stuck her feet in his belly, grabbed his arm and threw him out. He landed, Chris grabbed his arm, jerked it and put his boot to that face.

The doors burst open at the cavalry had arrived. Joseph and Barry started picking off bad guys. Jill ran toward the hostages. With a final pop of a round going off, the room was silent.

And three bad guys were on their faces in handcuffs.

Jill went about pulling off restraints.

Joseph said, "Captain. The other side of the plant is full of arms and weaponry. It's clearly their stock pile. But it gets worse. There's stuff over there like I've never seen."

"Such as?"

"Come see. There are no words."

Joseph stayed behind with the hostages. He was in no hurry to see it all again. Ever.

Barry led them through the main lobby to the far side of the plant. The main part operated efficiently as the reception area. In the whole plant, it was the only part that didn't entirely smell like ass and rotting filth.

Chris glanced down at Jill as they moved. She was covered in blood. Only her beret was clean. He said, "Your hat survived."

Jill glanced up. "Yeah?"

"The rest of you looks like hammered shit."

"…charmer."

"I have my moments."

The room was a stockpile. He wasn't kidding there. It was filled floor to ceiling with endless amounts of weaponry. Knives, guns, C-4, explosives and munitions were three deep around them.

But that wasn't what Joseph had been talking about. Barry gestured to the back room. They glanced at him.

He said, "No reason for me to go in. See for yourself."

Wesker moved through the door first. Jill and Chris were after him. And Jill whispered, "Oh my god."

It was a room of body parts. They were strung from the floor and the ceiling and in a variety of sizes and shapes. Feet, arms, hands, heads. It was a plethora of macabre horror. What were they doing here?

But the answer was laid out on the table in front of them. It was a Frankenstein monster, clearly. It was in a circle of blood and dark feathers. It was female and male and not. It was stitched together and bound with twine. There were no words, Joseph was right about that.

Wesker was examining the books in the far corner, leafing through them in his gloves, careful not to disturb the scene too much. He said, "This is the Book of Shadows. It's entirely possible that the cult is doing witchcraft in an attempt to raise spirits to possess the dead."

"Jesus. Like zombies?"

Chris was looking at the stitched corpse. Jill was looking at the heads on the wall. They were watching her, she was fairly certain, and she felt the chill of it in her soul.

"More like a demon, I'm afraid. The spell here is attempting to offer the body on the table to the demon Asmodeus. Whom it appears is the Destroyer."

Jill shuddered. "Why?"

"We'll be finding out. It's my speculation that this isn't all of what we'll be seeing with this cult. The symbolism, the stockpile. This is one piece of a bigger puzzle. I promise you."

Wesker moved toward them. "Let's call in the RPD and get the Special Victims Unit. We're going to need to someone with a specialization in the paranormal to help us here. But it's my guess we'll be moving again in a day or two, so stand ready."

He left the room. They didn't want to wait there in that temple of death either, so they followed him out into the lobby.

Jill thought, creepy or not, he'd come through like a legend in there. She'd never seen anyone move like that, lightning and speed and smoke. He was skilled in a way she'd never seen on the mat when they sparred.

She said, "Captain Wesker, I think you've been taking it easy on me."

He smiled at her and it wasn't creepy at all. It was just…a smile. "You're very good. And very dedicated. But you lack focus. If you would like to learn, I will teach you."

Jill said, "I would like to learn."

"Good. We will start tomorrow. 2 o'clock. Chris? That was nice shooting before. I wondered how you'd do under pressure. The reports didn't lie. Your skill is without question and your ability to follow orders is respectable. It seems I made the right choice hiring you both. Stand down for now and await the RPD."

He moved toward the room with the hostages.

Chris blinked. Jill blinked.

"I think he just…patted us on the head?"

"Felt like it."

"Still creepy?"

"Without question…but why do I feel happy that we pleased him?"

"Maybe the creepy is just REALLY uptight professionalism."

"Maybe."

They glanced at each other and chuckled. Chris said, "Nope. He's odd. But he got our backs in there. And all that mat training, all that simulation? I just fucking KNEW where we should be."

"I know! I felt the same. I did just what he's been teaching us. And we…"

"Right. We meshed."

"Oh my god. Captain Creepy gets us."

"Seems that way."

"He's amazing. Right? He's awesome."

"He is. Why is that annoying?"

"The eternal mystery."

And the sounds of the RPD arriving took their attention back to the mission at hand. It had gone smoothly, efficiently, and well as could be expected. No one was terribly injured and they had three suspects in custody to question. They had bodies and weapons and plenty of intel to sort through and try to pick apart.

They hit the showers when they got back to the station. Jill went under the spray and felt it soak the blood from her skin. The adrenaline still fired like mad in her blood. Was there anything quite like the fight? Jesus. She was high on it and loving it and hot from it. She could feel it in her belly like teeth.

She glanced over at Chris in the stall beside her. It was risky. It was. They were at work. The STARS had their own showers but still. Bravo or any members of Alpha could come in at any moment. The stalls covered everything unless you LITERALLY looked over and in there. You could see neck and head but still. STILL. Bad idea. Bad idea. But she was FLYING.

She left the water in her stall and ran over to his, pulling the curtain quietly.

He had soap in his eyes and cursed, rinsing it out. He started humming what sounded suspiciously like the theme song to MASH. He was rinsing his face in the heavy, heated spray. And she slid around him, went to her knees, and put her mouth over him.

Since he was totally unprepared for it and had no clue she was even there, she was able to swallow all of him while he was still soft. It made her feel like a champion. She didn't just go, she went all in. She sucked him fast, hard and deep. And it made her feel like she was fighting, fucking, and flying all at the same time.

He made some kind of desperate sound and flattened both of his hands against the stall wall, so ungodly turned on he felt like he might die from it. It would have been ok, really. But Barry Burton took the stall on the opposite side from him.

He glanced over and said, "Helluva thing huh? What a mess."

Gruffly, Chris ground out, "Yeah. Totally crazy."

"Seriously." And Barry was whistling as he washed his hair.

Chris dropped his hands, buried them in her hair and she was all kinds of crazy on his dick. She drove her mouth down and up and licked and nipped and bit him until he was pretty sure he was going to explode. Or throw her against the wall and fuck her while Barry Burton watched. Which was horrifying and oddly awesome. He made some sound and Barry glanced over.

"You ok?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Just…you know…thinking about the fight."

"Sucks I missed it."

"Yeah. Cheese and rice!" Jill hummed her throat around him and had his eyes trying to cross.

Barry lifted a brow. "You hungry."

"Oh I am. I really am."

"Go grub up dude. Seriously."

"I will. In…just…a minute." She flicked her tongue around the head of him and he forgot what he'd been saying. What was he saying?

Barry shrugged and turned his back to the water. Chris drove that hungry little mouth down on him, hard, felt her gag a little and gave her what she wanted. He shot in her mouth, hissing, and slapping the wall with his hands. He covered it up with a cough.

Jill crawled out of his stall and back into her own.

He stood there for a moment, shuddering.

Jill rose back up and washed her hair. "Hey Barry!"

He glanced over the stall doors at her. You couldn't, obviously, see anything over the door unless you craned your neck and looked down. Politeness kept the eye line clear and neck up. "Hey Jill. I heard you slayed it in there."

"I did. I'm good with my hands."

"That's the rumor."

"Got a dirty fucking mouth though," Chris remarked and made her laugh. She laughed. And she kinda loved him.