Jill Valentine awoke in her bed feeling stuck to Rebecca Chambers. The sheets were cold, damp with clammy sweat. The air in the room was heavy with sex, stirred only by the slowly spinning ceiling fan casting fleeting shadows across the wall above the television. Jill blinked at the images. Fires, flashing blue lights, the snap and pop of gunfire.
The moans.
The latter made her realize it was the local news she was seeing, not some cheap action movie. She peeled herself off Rebecca, their skin reluctant to part. The medic was still wearing her black string panties, the ones she'd had on that night they'd decided to "just fool around a bit, to take the edge off." It wasn't really sex if you weren't completely naked, right?
They'd been investigating Umbrella since returning to the city, working even harder after being suspended by that stooge, Chief Irons. The more they dug up on the company, the more they saw how deep it all went, into the very ground beneath their feet, the soul of the city itself.
Rebecca's sudden groan drowned out the television. She slid her hand over Jill's hip and squeezed. "What time is it?"
'What day was it?' might have been a better question, Jill thought, looking outside, into the night. The light leeching into the the apartment was a dull orange color, probably from a bad streetlight. She answered Rebecca by kissing her on the lips. She found herself pulled into the girl again, like she had been before when they'd started kissing on the bed, "for fun."
Jill had to keep telling herself that it was the plant's nectar causing her to act this way, that it had changed her on a bio-chemical level into something she hadn't been before, but the longer it went on the more she couldn't deny it was real. It was only when Rebecca had stopped looking so guilty after having an orgasm that Jill had accepted it, started relishing it.
She was grinding her pussy against Rebecca's leg when she heard what sounded like gunshots outside.
"What's wrong?" said Rebecca, who'd been fingering herself while watching Jill use her to get off.
"Nothing," said Jill, the roll in her hips slowing as she tried to remember how long they'd been in bed. She let out a sigh and rolled off Rebecca. "I'm going to shower. You in?"
The girl's glazed eyes brightened, she nodded eagerly and took off her panties.
Jill's shower wasn't built for two people, but they weren't truly using it to get clean. Under the steaming jets they kissed, positioning their legs and fingers so they could reach each other's sweetness. Jill was almost about to cum when the phone rang in the kitchen. She ignored it, desperate for one last orgasm, but it persisted.
"Hang on, I've got a bad feeling," she said, hoping out of the shower stall. Rebecca shut the water off as Jill left the bathroom, brought a towel for them both to use while they stood dripping over the tile floor.
"Yeah," Jill said into the phone.
"Jill! Finally. You gotta get outta town, all hell is breakin' loose!"
"Brad? Where are you?"
"I'm still at the PD. Listen, don't..."
The line went dead. The ceiling fan had stopped spinning, too, and Jill saw the orange light from outside wasn't from a crappy bulb at all, but from a blazing fire somewhere down the street. She went to the window near the foot of her bed and stuck her head out over the fire escape. Down the alley, towards the main road there were people running, some away from other people who looked drunk.
Jill's guts jumped into her throat. She knew damn well they weren't drunks. Though she wasn't completely shocked to see them, she was taken aback by how many there were, and by how bad things had gotten out there without her noticing. Had Rebecca's charms really been that distracting?
"That was Brad," she said. "He's at the police station. We have get there."
Jill toweled herself off and got dressed, her legs and butt humming with denied release. Rebecca was back in her black panties, looking for her pants. "Why? What's happening?" she said.
Jill clipped her pistol holster onto her belt and fetched the gun from the nightstand. She wasn't sure how to tell Rebecca that the shit had finally hit the fan without also admitting that they'd let themselves get distracted. "Look outside," she said, going for the spare magazines she'd loaded.
Rebecca leaned out the window over the fire escape while Jill grabbed the cleanest clothes she could find, a black skirt and a shoulderless blue blouse. She snatched up a white sweater and tied it around her waist, not because she thought it might get cold, but to hide the dumb looking fanny pack she'd stuffed a few essentials into in case something like this happened.
The night was hot, alive with movement. Vickers hadn't been chicken-shitting, all hell had indeed broken loose. Screams and moans filled the air. They couldn't use the main streets, they weren't safe, so they stuck to the alleyways and rear lots to reach the back side of the station where the parking garage was. They'd go in through there – Jill still had her card key, having called in a little favor with Rita to keep it active.
They were on their way down the ramp into the parking garage when over the howls and cries of the dying and dead something let out a deep, rumbling roar. They looked up to see where the noise had come from, saw some enormous bulk come falling, landing with a meteoric thud on the pavement before them.
It was the same size as the Tyrant from the Spencer Mansion lab, but different in nearly ever other way. For one, it wasn't naked. It wore a long, black coat with matching trousers and boots. Its head looked small over its broad shoulders. It still had a lipless, grinning mouth, and instead of two soulless black eyes it had one, milky orb that smoldered with a hateful lust.
"Shoot it!" Jill cried, aiming for its head.
They emptied their magazines into its upper chest and head as it started up the ramp towards them, reacting to their bullets as if it were a stack of wet sandbags. Its shoulders rippled, something slithered down its leather sleeves; long, purple tentacles with bulbous tips. A rasp came up from its bullet-riddled throat that sounded like it was saying the word, "Stars."
"Rebecca! Jill!"
It was Vickers. He'd opened the parking garage gate and come running up behind the monster with something in his hand. They both recognized what it was even before he shouted, "Duck!"
A flash-bang. It landed in front of the monster, off to its left. Jill covered her ears and turned her head while shutting her eyes. A moment later she felt like she'd been slapped by a truck. On pure instinct, she bolted down the ramp towards the gate. When her brain had recovered, she saw Rebecca running in front of her. There was no sign of Vickers. Jill kept running, turning around only after she was inside the parking garage.
"Stars!" the monster roared.
"Oh god! Oh, god, help me!" Vickers screamed. The monster had grabbed the front of his puffy yellow vest and hoisted him high into the air. "Oh, Jesus, no!"
The tentacles were on their way down the monster's arms towards Vickers; one did not need to be a fan of weird Japanese pornography to know what they meant to do. In a real chickenshit move, Vickers tucked himself into his vest and slipped out the bottom. "Run! He's after STARS members! It ain't safe anywhere. Aaaaagh!"
He was nearly grabbed again, but turned aside just in time and went sprinting towards the back lot.
"Come on, let's go," Jill said, heading straight for the door into the precinct, not feeling too terrible about hoping the monster would chase Vickers instead of them. She still remembered quite vividly his flaking out on Alpha Team, leaving them to die in that awful mansion. But maybe he'd made up for it just now.
They reached the first floor of the station and went right to the break room at the top of the stairs, looking for any sign of their former co-workers. There was no one, alive or dead, to be found but there were a disturbing number of bloody footprints and smears all over the tiled floor. They listened for the monster's heavy footsteps, heard nothing but muffled moans and screams from outside.
They changed magazines, refilled the spent ones with bullets they found in one of the lockers. On the break room table was a plate of brownies with one little corner missing. Jill's stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten anything except for Rebecca in the past twelve hours or more.
"I'm starving," she said, snatching up a chocolate square. "Don't tell anyone I ate a plate of brownies by myself."
"I'll tell them you only ate half a plate," said Rebecca, picking two squares to shove into her mouth.
The heavy chocolate did its job, quelling their stomachs and dulling the ache inside them that was growing as their blood cooled. By the time the plate was clear, so were their minds. "Should we have even come here?" said Rebecca.
"I'm not sure," said Jill, licking her teeth. "Let's get to the armory. If that thing comes back for us, we're going to want more than these pistols."
"We can look for survivors along the way," said Rebecca.
Jill doubted they'd find anyone in need of help, or who could help them. There was a lot of blood and broken windows, and the fact that it had been Vickers calling them over wasn't a good sign either. Still, she held out hope that they'd run across someone. Marvin, maybe Chief Irons. She had some choice words, and maybe something else, for the latter, if it came to that.