Disclaimer: see part 1 for disclaimer.
The More Things Change…
By Random1377
Part 7 – One-Woman Army
Jill opened her eyes, bracing herself as the door opened and Wesker stepped back into the security room. Time it right, she warned herself, tensing her muscles for quick movement, slip behind him, get out before the door shuts… no sweat. Get ready… wait for him to take another step… and then-
Ksht "Jill, Jill do you read?" Chris's voice abruptly burst in her ear. "Jill, this is Redfield, over." Ksht
Wesker's spun around, his eyes focusing directly on Jill's location.
"Oh fu-"
"Valentine!" the huge man bellowed, his face splitting into an awful grin as behind him, Ada shot to her feet, letting out a shout that was half amazement and half admiration
"-ucker, she is here!"
Jill's reactions kicked into overdrive. Throwing herself backward, she slammed her back into the wall, silencing the walkie-talkie before it could squawk again. Though the crunch of breaking plastic gave her position away, bringing Wesker's attention entirely on her exact location, Jill did not allow herself to think. Planting one foot on the wall, she dropped into a low crouch, using the leverage to propel herself forward, driving her shoulder into Wesker's gut.
"Wuff!"
Whatever the big man had been expecting, it was not this. Jill's shoulder caught him in the solar plexus, and while he had the advantage of height and bulk, Jill's momentum was enough to drive the air from his lungs and make him stagger.
Wasting no time on congratulations, Jill bolted, hitting the door hard as Ada opened fire, punching two rounds into the wall where Jill had been standing only seconds before.
Go, Jill thought, whipping the door shut as she dashed down the corridor, go, go, go, GO!
"…ay here!" she heard Wesker roar as the door was flung open, "watch the others – she's mine!"
Well, Jill thought, rounding the corner at full speed, one on one is better than two on one… though honestly, one on one with Wesker is more like three on one. If he gets his hands on me, I'm dead.
The solution to this problem, of course, was to ensure that the hulking man did not get his hands on her – a questionable proposition as Jill found herself rounding another corner and coming face to face with the heavily locked door holding the hordes of shambling zombies at bay.
You've gotta be KIDDING!
She glanced around, wishing she had taken more time on her way through to take notice of any side doors or avenues of escape. Unfortunately for her, this survey now took her less than four seconds. The hallway she was in went down ten feet before ending in the huge, reinforced door.
There were no other exits.
Damn it!
Her options were twofold – backtrack and try to find another unlocked door before Wesker reached her location, or try to open the massive, thoroughly locked security door.
Back we go, she thought dismally.
Turning on her heel, though, she found Wesker just coming around the bend, rising to his full height and towering over the small corridor and grinning his sick grin. "Gotcha," he said merrily, "no use hiding, Valentine… I can hear you breathing."
Jill clenched her eyes shut.
In her panic and fear, she was panting like a dog. The sneaksuit would muffle the sound of normal breathing, but as her lungs were puffing in and out like a bellows, there was nothing it could do to hide her.
"Wanna see a neat trick?"
Backing into the corner and reaching for her pouch, Jill thought, Maybe if I take him off guard, I can get a shot off…
She edged her hand into the pouch as Wesker pulled a small device – rather like a remote control – out of his pocket. "See this?" he asked jovially. "It's called a failsafe."
Jill held her tongue, and her breath, praying that if she breathed shallowly enough, she might still be able to keep this situation from turning deadly. This hope was dashed as Wesker marched directly up to her, stopping three feet from her face and brandishing the failsafe device up for Jill to see, forcing her to take a good look at it.
Tazer she thought, wrapping her hands around the handle of the incapacitating weapon as she glanced at the object in Wesker's hand. Useless… damn it, why did I put my gun in here? Oh yeah, to keep from tripping on it when I ran – damn thing was too heav-
"Can you read it yet, Valentine?"
Jill frowned, focusing for a moment on the tiny company logo written over the failsafe's single button.
Vermillion…?
Her eyes widened as Wesker's thumb covered the button.
"Night, night."
"Hhhk."
Jill's hands flew to her throat as the sneaksuit's collar abruptly cinched off her airway, tightening nearly hard enough to snap her neck as Wesker barked a cruel laugh.
"Oh Valentine," he chuckled, reaching out and wrapping his hand around the top of Jill's head – a target made easy to find by the woman's increasingly desperate choking sounds. "Did you honestly think your little band of hoodlums could steal something like this without a helping hand? You're stupider than I thought."
Had she been able to, Jill would have cried out in dismay as he tore her hood back, taking a small clump of hair with it as he tossed it to the side.
"Bad dye job," Wesker snorted, his grin widening as Jill clawed at her throat, too frantic to escape the strangulation to drop the tazer in her right hand. "Tell me, though… do blondes have more fun? I'd take the time to find out, but I think I'll wait until the suit finishes you – less chance of you pulling a fast one that way."
"Si-sick… bast…ard…" Jill managed, feeling her head start to swim as black dots danced in front of her eyes.
He's going to…
The thought was so vile that she could not finish it.
He was going to violate her – worse… he was going to desecrate her. The very idea made Jill's skin crawl.
"Know what else?" Wesker asked, dropping her a wink as he leaned into her personal space. "I might even flip you over… what do you think about that? Help myself to a bit of that cute little a-"
"NNnnngh!"
With all of her remaining strength, Jill drove her right hand forward, planting the tazer in the middle of Wesker's forehead and pulling the trigger, taking great satisfaction in watching his eyes roll back in his head as the smell of cooking flesh filled the air. Her knees gave out as Wesker swayed on his feet, shaking his head from side to side as if trying to get rid of a particularly unpleasant mental image.
Fall… goddamn… it… she thought, her tongue lolling from her mouth as she fell to the floor. Just… go… down…!
Abruptly, Wesker stilled, pitching over backwards with a tremendous crash… though the pressure on Jill's throat did not go away. Her eyes shot to his hand, finding the failsafe still held firmly in his grip. She felt lightheaded, trying her best to stay conscious as her oxygen supply was ruthlessly denied.
Can't… she thought incoherently, unable to even form the idea of unwrapping Wesker's fingers. Chris… hel…p… me…
Drawing on all of her reserves, Jill forced her hand to dip back into her belt pouch, fumbling for the oxygen tablets. If she could chew one – without biting her swelling tongue off – she would have four minutes to pry Wesker's fingers off of the failsafe and free her throat… but no matter how she tried, she could not seem to find the blister pack with the pills inside.
Tears of frustration and fear spilled down her cheeks as her fingers began to tingle.
Chris, she thought dizzily, Chris… I… please… help…
Inspiration hit her as her hand wrapped around smooth plastic. She slumped to the floor, managing to fall on her side as she drew the small pocketknife out of her pouch and shakingly flipped the blade open.
"Hk… hk…"
Her air was gone. Only the softest choking sounds filled the air as she struggled to bring the blade up.
I… can't… die… here… she thought, feeling drool running from the corner of her mouth, have to… save… someone…
Who she had to save was no longer clear to her dimming mind. Her body was starting to give up, and all that she knew was that someone would die if she did not save them. Operating on the last command of her blackening mind, Jill's hand lifted the blade up to her throat, forcing it into the still-tightening material… and tearing it sharply upward, cutting through fabric and flesh alike.
"HAAAAHHHHH!"
Air rushed into Jill's lungs as the awful constricting sensation suddenly vanished. She coughed, alternating between violently emptying her stomach and taking in deep lungfuls of sweet, life-giving oxygen. It took all of her willpower to keep from passing out as her body slowly received the message that it was not time to die.
Bleeding, she thought dizzily, cut my own goddamn throat…!
Forcing herself upright, she yanked her belt pouch off, tearing it open in search of anything she could use to stanch the flow of blood.
Nothing… no bandages, no first aid spray, no absorbent fabric, not a single thing that would keep the precious blood spilling from her throat inside of her body. Think, she told herself fiercely. Cut's deep, but I don't think it hit an artery. I've got a few minutes, tops… but if I can stop the bleeding.
Her eyes shot to Wesker.
Maybe…
Dragging herself over to the unconscious man, she fumbled in his pockets, too focused on the simple task of living to be disgusted at touching a man who had been planning to rape her corpse.
"Still… a smoker…" she gasped, pulling out a book of matches. "May I?"
Falling onto her side, Jll pulled out one of the spare clips for her handgun, popping three bullets out and setting them next to her. Hurry, she thought, grimacing in distaste as blood ran into her ear, do it fast, Valentine – don't think about it, just do it.
Still suffering from oxygen deprivation, Jill pried the bullets out of their casings with the tip of the pocketknife, preparing herself for the pain yet to come as she dumped the gunpowder all over her wound. In stung like a hell, but she simply gritted her teeth, emptying all three shells into the cut before striking a match on the cover of the matchbook and holding it up to her eye to inspect its dancing flame.
"Yippie-ki-yay," she whispered. "Rambo, eat your heart out…"
Abruptly, she touched the lit match to the gunpowder.
Fwsh
"GAH!"
She had thought she was prepared for the pain.
She was very wrong.
Nerves she was not even aware she had sizzled and screamed as her skin cauterized, fusing the hole in her throat closed as the surrounding skin blackened and peeled. As she lay gasping for breath and holding on to consciousness with all over her might, it occurred to her that – should she survive this nightmare – she would be scarred for life.
No more… beauty pageants for me… she thought sickly, I'll be… lucky if I can even get a da-
"Nnnn…"
Jill's head whipped around – a proposition that generated even more pain… though she hardly noticed it as Wesker let out another groan, putting his hand to his head as he forced himself to a sitting position.
No… way!
A tazer hit to the head would be enough to kill a normal man, and while Jill knew Wesker wasn't normal anymore, she had at least hoped for a few minutes to work with. Rising to unsteady feet, Jill fumbled for her gun.
As she saw it, no matter how strong he was, eighteen rounds of parabellum ammo to the face should be enough to ensure that he wouldn't bother her ever again.
"Where…?"
Jill nearly screamed with frustration as she realized that her belt pouch was still on the floor.
No time, she thought, her eyes widening in fear as Wesker slowly lifted his head. NO TIME!
As quickly as she could, she stooped down, grabbing the pouch in one hand and the sneaksuit's hood in the other.
"Valen-"
Lashing out, Jill kicked the groggy man in the temple with all her strength, taking great satisfaction in the pained grunt he let out and barely noticing the flare of agony in her toe as he pitched over sideways.
"See you around, asshole!"
Counting herself lucky to be alive, Jill took off, backtracking halfway back to the security room and hitting the door marked 'stairs' as hard as she could, tearing down five flights before tucking herself under one of the staircases and holding her breath, grasping her gun in both hands as she waited for sounds of pursuit.
If Wesker poked his face around to see where she was hiding, Jill swore she would pump it full of lead.
After fifteen minutes of dead silence, she slowly slumped back against the wall. Definite, 'too close' moment she thought, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out very slowly.
"Ok," she whispered, considering the sneaksuit's hood for a moment, "first things first, see if this think still works with a tear in the throat. Next," she clenched her hand into a fist, "next we find Carlos and get my goody bag back."
With her bag of assorted thieving equipment, Jill felt sure that she could get back into the security room – or at least, find a viable exit for her team… one that did not involve being gnawed on by zombies, lickers, tyrants, or whatever Umbrella's successors had dreamed up for them to be eaten by.
Or at the very least, increase their chances.
This isn't survival of the fittest, she told herself as she pulled the sneaksuit's hood back on, this is just plain survival.
Activating the sneaksuit, Jill was pleased to find that – at the very least – her arms, legs, and body seemed to disappear.
"Now to find a mirror," she whispered, reattaching her belt pouch… but keeping her gun firmly in her hand. "Gotta see about the ne- ow!"
She winced as she took a step, the foot she had used to kick Wesker giving an angry throb and reminding the wound in her throat to make its presence known as well.
Broken, she thought, pursing her lips as she stared down at where her big toe would be had it not been invisible. And… oh that's just sick! I'll clean that up later – gotta get moving.
She bared her teeth as she struck off towards the lower levels.
Wesker's spit was still on her foot.
Continued…
Author's notes: no one – I repeat, no one… likes having Wesker spit on them. That should be a fortune cookie. Kind of has a nice ring to it.
No pre-reader was used on this chapter, but considering thathardly anyoneREAD the last chapter, I doubt there's anyone that cares about a few glitches… or the story, for that matter. Angst, angst, angst!