Revelations:

Mirror Mask

Episode 2:

The Hair of a Hero

The Queen Zenobia

Jill kicked, she struggled, she wedged her gun up under its ugly face as it attempted to eat her - and the echo of a gun blew its nasty mess all over her chest and neck in a wash of rot.

Parker?

She grunted as the body flopped atop her, "Nice timing."

"Well, no means no."

She glanced over the top of its ugly head. The lights flickered twice as the power surged to the ship. He was in a navy colored wet weather top, long sleeved, that was topped by a shoulder holster with a shiny gun and a black tactical vest packed with ammo. The one in his hand was loose, held to the side but at the ready. It likely fit in the holster on his thigh, worn over cargo pants in black.

The emblem on his chest was clear enough - A fist clenched around two lightning bolts and an olive branch. This was her liaison. He was United States Strategic Command - USSTRATCOM.

Jill spoke, cooly, "Your hair isn't service standard length."

It wasn't. It was long, rock star long, and shaggy. It fit the face, which was ridiculously handsome but didn't inspire confidence that he was military or reliable. He put a hand down to her and Jill took it, letting him pull her free of her dead attacker.

She noticed, as she rose, he had a knife tucked into the front of his vest as long as his forearm.

He followed the line of her gaze and remarked, "SOG."

She nodded, giving him a judging look. He met it, equally, keeping his face droll. Finally, she queried, "I'm sorry...but who the hell are you?"

And now he laughed, lightly, and kicked over the corpse of her attacker. He knelt, scanning the thing with his phone. He tapped some keys and took a picture. He rose, glancing at the fancy watch on his wrist, and replied, "Kennedy. Leon S. Kennedy."

Right. The hotshot attached to the Bio-Terror division of USSTRATCOM. The Wiz Kid that everyone was always talking about. He'd come back fresh from saving the First Kid and run off to be the big hero at Harvardville. He was something else, they said if he was also uptight and boring.

Hell, she actually liked that part about his reputation. She, herself, was regarded as uptight and boring.

Jill tugged her pistol free and gestured with her head, "I'm Jill Valentine."

"I know." He gave her a narrow look. It radiated condescension, "I'm your contact. I know who you are."

She pursed her lips, turning back down the stairs. "Alright. Well, I need your assistance. I've located my partner, but he's imprisoned. I need to get him free. The door is locked."

"Aren't you the "master of unlocking"?"

They held gazes. Jill gave him a bored expression. Finally, he shrugged, "Just what I heard."

"I heard you were the love child of John Lennon and Jesus."

His brows winged up. "Interesting. Not Jagger huh? Lennon?"

Jill gave him another bland expression and he shrugged, "Someone told me you could freeze a man to death with a single look. I think that ones true."

Jill rolled her eyes, "Well, I heard you could smite enemies with a toss of your perfect hair."

He blinked. His mouth twitched on a smile, "Not exactly. You wanna touch it though? No product, kid, just me."

She would not smile. She refused. She rolled her eyes. "Does anyone ever really find you charming?"

"...from time to time."

Jill gave him a look that tried to shrivel his scrotum where he stood. He kept his face blank, but he wanted to laugh as she told him, "Well, you're wasting your time with me. I'm not interested."

He muttered, chuckling, "Clearly."

She paused, looking at the bloody window. "...there was an altercation in there with the thing you killed. I think the woman is dead."

Leon tilted his head, considering, "We'll check it out. The captive is Chris Redfield?"

"Yes. He's upstairs. I need to get him free." She turned down a small off chute and eased open the door. It was a washroom, thick with the smell of laundry detergent, stagnant water, and rot. Blood seeped along the floor in curling tendrils toward the drain that waited. Clothes were half hung, half falling where they'd been abandoned. A basket sat atop a dryer, still filled with someone's underwear. A gathering of detergents was on the shelf behind it, some overturned, some splattered with blood.

A body was slumped against the wall in a wetsuit. The impact of the toss would most likely have killed her instantly if the monster hadn't torn her up first. Her enormous, overly endowed cleavage was freed from her wetsuit. It might have been titillating...if it wasn't topped by a decimated face covered in dripping hair.

The woman was dead, no getting around that, but Jill scanned her the Genesis just to be sure.

She caught Kennedy watching her with it and tilted her gaze at him, "Yes?"

"It's neato. Just saying." He moved into the room, picking gingerly over the scattered mess of shoes and clothes to kneel by the body waiting there.

Jill considered him, scanning him with the Genesis while he inspected the corpse. It gave her lots of information: He was 28 years old. He weighed 175 pounds. He was six foot tall (almost). His Body Mass Index was entirely within the normal range for a muscular adult male. His Body Fat Percentage was excellent at 7%. His heart rate was an athletically low 62 beats per minute, proving the fight on the stairs hadn't raised his blood pressure or upset him at all. He was, it seemed, in supreme physical condition.

And he said things like "neato."

She lowered the Genesis a little and it dinged, indicating he was free of infection. It was also nice enough to inform her that his body temperature suggested he had not copulated within the last 24 hours.

As if that were AT ALL relevant to the situation. Quint. He really thought he was a funny guy with the things he added to his gadgets. He'd have gotten a chuckle out of something like a "sperm counter indicator".

The Genesis, minus Quint's silly additions, was really a near perfect tool though.

The thermal imaging was incredible. Kennedy was clearly alive. She could see his body temperature in one feed, and when she clicked another, she could see his internal components: His heart, his veins, his muscles, and bones. She could follow the pathway from his lungs to his loins. It basically gave her his biological makeup in a blueprint.

Incredible. Quint? A genius...and a bit of a lecherous pervert.

Leon Kennedy's base body temperature was 96.7 degrees. His lungs were pristine - no sign of infiltrates or infection or shadows. His stomach was empty, she was honestly surprised she couldn't see his last meal in there. It gave measurements of his bones - fingers, arms, legs, pelvis. His waist was svelte and fitting for a man in excellent shape.

The Genesis paused at his pelvis. The machine beeped, reading. Was it going to speculate on the size of his di-

He coughed and Jill jerked it away from his pelvis. She felt amusement creep into her belly but ignored it.

He was also looking at her. She nearly dropped the Genesis when he remarked, "You using X-Ray vision on me, Valentine?"

She lowered it, giving him a narrow look. "Checking to see if you had a heart, I think."

He kinda liked her sass. He winked at her, watched it irritate her, and felt good about it.

And he added, "First looks free, sweetheart. Next one will cost you dinner."

Ugh. He was charming. She wasn't sure why that was annoying, but there it was. Jill gave him a droll look. He shrugged and gestured to the body on the floor.

"A waste of a perfectly good set of tits in my opinion," He rose, considering her, "Maybe this trend will catch on though. What do you think?"

Jill rolled her eyes and scanned the body with the Genesis. It beeped twice and told her the deceased was named Rachel Foley. Surprised, Jill remarked, "She's with the FBC."

Leon arched a brow, "No kidding?"

"Yeah. Why is she here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He started to move and Jill shook her head.

"Wait. Reach into her cleavage."

There was a long moment where Leon gave her the most deadpan expression. She tilted her head at him, blank-faced. They held gazes for so long that Jill actually broke first, "What?"

"You're kidding, right? Why would I do that?"

She rolled her eyes again, "The key we need is in her damn cleavage. I don't know why she put it there. Maybe it was safer than her boot? She's dressed like something out of a bad porno."

Leon glanced at the body and quipped, "Rachel Does Deep Sea Diving?"

Jill shook her head. He tried again, "Whore Ashore!- Rachel Goes Down?"

Her flat look encouraged him. He gave it one more shot, "Tits and Torpedos?"

Jill turned away, leaving him to chuckle. So, the rumors were wrong about that, she thought with a sigh, he was not at all aloof or uptight. His chuckling made her roll her eyes.

She cleared the rest of the room, checking for supplies, and listened to him mutter.

"Usually when I stick my hand in a woman's cleavage, she's at least still ALIVE..." He paused, sighed, and put his hand into Rachel's tremendous bosom, "Is it sad that I had to attach the word usually? Jesus in a purple pair of pants, I need a new job. In this case, Rachel, I do hope you stay dead. As I'm not looking to be your costar here."

Jill found a small box of shotgun shells on a shelf tucked into a laundry basket. She added them to her hip pack, curious where the gun was. Leon pulled his hand free with the little key for the Crew Quarters and helped himself to Rachel's empty pistol.

He rose, shuddering, "Jill?"

She turned to look at him and he held up the key triumphantly. "What do you think? Ooze Clues? Is there a mutt around here with paw prints to guide us to the right answers?"

He grinned.

She rolled her eyes again.

He was kind of an idiot.

Genius, her ass.

Leon eyed the ass in question as she circled the room. He wouldn't have done it to Claire, he realized, but Claire gave shit like a man and made things easier. But this one. This woman was so painfully uptight he could practically see the stick wedge up her ass that made her spine. He'd heard, of course, you had to be dead in their business not to know about Jill Valentine. But no one had mentioned the face.

Gorgeous. Big lips and limpid eyes in a shimmery blue. The face was good but the ass? The ass in that wet suit was extraordinary. The bad news? He'd heard about her skills..and her ass. Her ass was kinda legendary among the men in their business. One - because it was fantastic, and two - because no one ever...ever...got a piece of it.

He watched it bend over as she poked around in a shelf and said, "You think there's a nerdy little guy somewhere that only highers models as agents?"

Jill shot him a look over her shoulder, "...what?"

"Look at you. You look like a naughty deep sea diving instructor. Like you're gonna teach me all about inhaling through your nose while you put my respirator in your mouth."

Ugh. He was about fifteen years old. She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

She sighed, turning back to flip through the little journal in the basket. It was a crew workers account of the fall of the ship. It was pretty much flowery passages, at first, about a relationship the crew member was having with a woman named Alma. But it got worse. It started describing the descent of things. It talked about people turning to the ooze they'd seen. It mentioned hiding out in the cafeteria.

It was splashed in blood at the end.

She was doubting they'd made it to the cafeteria.

She rose, glancing over her shoulder, "Agent Kennedy-"

"Leon."

She gave him a narrow look. He kept on smiling beguilingly. On a deep breath, she huffed, "Right. Kennedy, it would be best if we kept things as professional as possible. Tone down the awe-shucks a little."

"Just a little?" He lifted his gloved hand and indicated about an inch with his fingers, "How about a smidgen? How much is a smidgen anyway? Smaller than a little?"

Jill turned away, sighing. Ugh. He was increasingly annoying. He reminded her of a young C-

She froze the thought. No. Nope. No way. She was not going to compare this guy to a young Chris. Not here. Not now. Not ever. Chris was all business. He didn't bust her balls constantly.

"Work on that professionalism, Agent Kennedy."

"I'm not usually one to follow a ladies lead, but whatever tickles your pickle is alright with me, sweetheart."

Jill rolled her eyes.

She touched her communicator and signaled Parker, "Parker...I've rendezvoused with the agent from USSTRATCOM. We've located a key to the crew quarters. Hopefully, that will help us get to the room with Chris."

Parker came back, happily, "Roger I sent him after you. I'm glad he helped out."

Jill moved up the stairway, keeping her gun loose at her side. "So far, so good. Be right there."

As she moved, Leon shook his head like a dog coming out of water to stop staring at the ass. Seriously, it was ridiculous. Half heart, half bubble, half dick teasing delight in water resistant spandex. He kept expecting someone to pop out of the shadows and yell "gotcha!" and show him the camera recording them that meant she was an actress.

The idea made him snort.

After a moment, she glanced over her shoulder. Kennedy was following her, looking amused. She arched her brows. "What?"

"Just curious why he gets to be Parker and I have to go by Kennedy."

Jill gave him a cool glance. "Because he's my partner."

Brows arched, Leon mused, "And I'm...what?"

"A nuisance...and don't call me sweetheart."

"You got it, cookie."

Jill narrowed her eyes in a glare. Kennedy grinned happily.

She turned the corner and found Parker waiting for them. Leon chuckled, unflappable. He nodded to Parker and tossed the key.

The other man caught it and turned to the door where Chris was being held.

Jill said, "It will be a relief to get off this ship. It's making me sick."

Leon grinned, "It's pretty gross here. But admit it, you'll miss me a little."

She shook her head again, "Like a case of crabs."

He laughed. Parker glanced at them both in surprise. He didn't think he'd ever heard Jill Valentine be sarcastic like that. Curious about it, he took a moment to unlock the door.

Leon mused, "You always equate men with S.T.D.S, cookie?"

Jill actually shoved his arm, "When they're just as annoying, yes. One of those I can kill with pubicide."

"I'm a little upset that you keep picturing me near your bush, Jill. I find this whole conversation incredibly unprofessional. I just came here to work. I'm honestly feeling very attacked right now."

She stopped. She faced him with a stern look on her face, "Agent Kennedy-"

"Leon."

She was going to punch him. It was that simple. "Tone it down."

He hummed a few notes and went with a lower one as if he were finding his pitch. "Check. How's this?"

Parker laughed. He couldn't help himself. Jill gave him a dry look. "Don't encourage him, Parker. Please."

Parker shrugged once, "Apologies, Jill. It's...good to have some laughter."

Now she just felt like a bitch. Because she had to admit, Kennedy's crappy joking was keeping her mind off the horrors in this hellhole. She was...a little grateful he was such a juvenile.

What was the world coming to?!

The door opened.

She forgot about anything but the man in the chair.

"Chris!"

She dashed inside to grab for him. Her hand touched his slick arm. It slid across his shoulder...and knocked his head clean off.

She couldn't even shout in horror as his head split at the neck and rolled, bouncing twice, across the dirty floor. Parker said, softly, "Jill...the walls."

She stopped. She turned. She blinked.

The walls were done in yellow flags with muskets and greyhounds. Il Veltro...the greyhound. They were gone. Dismantled. Dead. But they weren't. Clearly. They were here. Or had been. On this ship.

When?

There was a crackle of sound and Jack Norman, the leader of Veltro, filled the room with his voice. "We are Veltro, vengeful messengers from the depths of the Inferno. Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

Kennedy remarked, softly, "Who the fuck is this guy?"

And the room started to seep with smoke. He cursed. He turned for the door and the sound of it split the air. The assailant tried to take him out quickly and Leon punched them in the face, fighting with them for the gun.

They turned, elbowed him in the gut, and kneed him in the crotch. He staggered, jerked on their arm, and threw them away. But it didn't matter. They turned back and their gun whipped him across the face and put him on his ass, out like a light.

Parker grabbed for the masked assailant and went down like a stone, coughing. Jill staggered, gasped, "Where's Chris?! What have you done with him!?"

And she fell to her face on the floor, struggling as the gas penetrated and stole her breath. The masked figure paused to stare down at Kennedy and shake their head. They turned their gaze toward her and spoke, through a filter that altered their voice, "Ms. Valentine...it's time you learned...the truth. I will show you...what lies beneath."

Jill grabbed for their boot, missed, and tumbled into the dark.

Post Note: Thus brings to the end our brief time on the Queen Zenobia. That's right. This is where I step away from the canon to discover what waits beyond it. A remote location. No hope. No help. No time. A cult. A curse. A plagas forgot. And a mastermind we never expected. It's just them against the world - and the world takes no prisoners.

Let the cleansing begin.