James1
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The Griffith Device is a serum-based remote control that has the potential to twist the mind of the host to follow commands like a robotic toy, but there is more than just simple idle programming and genetic alterations involved… what Jill doesn’t know is that the device itself is a living virus, and the more she is subjected to doses of the serum, the more her own consciousness is conditioned and altered to suit the needs of the puppet master pulling the strings.
So far Jill hasn’t come closer to discovering just what Wesker and Excella plan to do with the Griffith device, but it doesn’t seem to be the kernel of Wesker’s grand scheme, but its importance holds some value to Excella Gionne.
What Jill DOES know is that Excella has more than just an idle fascination with testing the reflexes of her test subject. Idle kids play is now taking a turn for the personal, and while Jill suffers the onslaught of a sadistic sociopath, she also has an attack of conscience… can she keep up this charade long enough to ensure her freedom, or will Excella become her latest puppet master in Wesker’s ongoing charade of global infestation?
Hopefully this foot fetish isn’t part of the plan.
*****
“I don’t mind that sweet, sweet laughter of yours Jill, but would you be so kind as to stop fidgeting for me?”
Ten minutes of this. Ten full minutes of the assault of Jill’s foot while Excella drank in each detail with appeal bordering beyond research. The other woman was licking her lips almost constantly, showing care and tact in the way her fingertips wiggled along the bottom of her foot, enticing a wide range of responses.
It was a matter of time before her left foot fell victim, and the apprehension Jill felt from the first time was almost nonexistent. She knew it wasn’t hers, and it felt almost disturbing that she was actually fine with that. Now wasn’t the time for idle musing though, because she was just given another command, and practically became stiff as a board; sitting upright in the same proper posture she held like before. The only difference was that she still wasn’t denied her capacity to vocally respond.
This was too good to be true, but perhaps a little case of duality is in order? Excella wanted to test the limits of the altered serum dosage, so while Jill struggled with playing the good Barbie doll, “Jill, would you be kind enough to remove your left boot and sock for me?”
flutter of nails along the underside of her toes, she could feel each and every nerve wanting to twitch and wiggle, yet all she did—aside from giggling in rapid succession—was lean forward rather nimbly, and began undoing the buckle of her left boot.
Her eye was off the original mark now, which drove her laughter up an octave and caused occasional involuntary twitching of her bared toes. The pressure she felt from the device strengthened on her body, and her mind became less foggy. Just in time to catch the final reel as she tugged the zipper down and simply slid out of her boot. The trick was to balance curling her left leg up while trying not to fall over, but she handled it gracefully, and a simple tug of her thumb later Excella now had a second bared foot resting on her lap, with Jill shifting her body to better accommodate.
She never stopped laughing.
Well that was just fine, because Excella never stopped tickling that pretty little foot of hers. Drooling over the fact, maybe? She rewarded Jill for her obedience with an increase in pressure of those wiggling digits just as she made another full sweep along the bottom of her foot, paying special attention to the wrinkles and ridges. What was most fascinating about this is that Excella hadn’t expected such tender skin of a woman that seemed to be on her feet more often than not. Since when does a government lackey find the time for the pampering qualities of life?
Perhaps Jill would be willing to share her beauty secrets after a little more persuasion… well, maybe not Beauty secrets, not like Excella needed help in that department.
“It’s moments like these that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m glad I can share it with you, I feel as though I can trust you implicitly,” she said in such a serious tone one might even overlook the fact that she was fondling Jill’s foot so savagely. The woman was doing her part admirably, and had a grin on her lips that almost seemed too wide for her face.
Let’s not neglect other assets though. She slowly lowered Jill’s ankle, leaving her legs crossed while managing to never let her nails leave the silky heel of her foot. Despite her request from earlier Jill still found it hard to hold still, and the idle wiggling of frantically desperate toes began.
One hand free, it descended upon the helpless left foot, all while watching that same neutrally happy smile on the other woman’s face as she once again subjected herself to involuntarily watching. Maybe this woman had more of a fetish then Excella originally anticipated. Doubtful but wishful thinking, especially if Wesker was kind enough to give Jill over to her as reward for a job well done, but that was also wishful thinking. Wesker wasn’t the type of man to ignore a valued project success if he could bend it endlessly to his will, and Excella feared the man enough to never try and cross him.
Wait… she stopped altogether and left Jill to relax while falling in idle contemplation. Excella didn’t have the time frame she originally expected, especially after having a quick glance towards the clock set on her desk. She needed to wrap things up before her attention was required, but not necessarily ready to give Jill her finishing touch.
Hands clapping together enthusiastically, she slowly lowered the upper half of her body until she was hovering several inches above those still and motionless feet, and while she licked her lips most actively, she left the final pleasure to her cruel device of torture from before.
The reflex hammer, its curved tip following the curvature of her left foot smoothly, up and down, left to right. The response was as strong as before, and it only doubled in intensity when Excella’s idle hand shifted gears to finally give Jill a double-dose, and if she thought she put the woman in a tizzy before, the moment her nails skittered along Jill’s left foot, not even the device was able to fully stop her from fidgeting and squirming while upgrading from laughter to flat out cackling.
Did she know what she was getting into? Jill was growing frantic inside her living shell, seeing nothing, and feeling nothing but that tickling that was sending violent shocks through her system. She could practically feel the stress put on her device because it was causing a pressure in her head that made her want to scream in agony, and through the bout of cackling, words of protest were starting to form in garbled, inaudible babble. Excella couldn’t hear the panic in Jill’s voice, the panic that should have been a red flag that she was hitting a danger zone.
She could tell that her body was starting to get into a panic. The violent spasms she could feel coursing through her muscles were that of someone bound, or restrained. Her body knew and understood that even though she was simply following orders; that the tickling itself was forcing her to endure something that she couldn’t control or pull away from as her body would like.
Jill was slumping forward slightly as her laughter became hurried, the unrestrained cackling resigning to a sort of defeat as Excella felt another handful of involuntary jerking and spasms. She would have stopped to address this, but Jill’s foot was obedient in returning dutifully to her lap once the tremor had passed, allowing another cruel lick of her nails to trace invisible lines against the plush skin that sank and rebound so beautifully.
It was too extreme to follow, and Excella didn’t anticipate what would happen next. She was so caught up in the woman’s torture that as her face lowered close enough to feel the warmth of Jill’s skin,
BAM!
Shock was the last expression caught on her face as Jill’s left foot jerked upwards violently, and struck her under the jaw with enough force to send her backwards with a KO blow.
It was a random act that Jill hadn’t expected, but she watched as Excella’s body suddenly floundered atop the couch, and finally slid to the floor with a heavy thud, remaining unmoving just as blood started to drip from the left side of her mouth.
It must have been one hell of a crushing blow, because she could even feel the soreness of her toes and along the top half of her foot where she impacted the woman’s chin. The woman’s bony chin that felt like a freaking chisel…
Have you ever tried kicking someone in the jaw with a bare foot? The actual act itself is best preformed with the side of the foot, as you can see almost every single martial artist do. The involuntary reflex though? All of the force was on the tips of her toes, and it was the biggest reason she was suddenly grabbing at the top of her foot, seething in pain.
Grabbing her foot…
“Holy shit,” she said, almost in a whisper. She cursed even louder when she found that she had control over her voice. She curled her hands, uncurled them, wiggled her fingers, even flexed her bare toes which caused her to stop and reflect on the assault that took place.
She shouldn’t leave when Excella was down like that. She should try and—‘WAKE UP JILL!’—right. She sprung to her feet, abandoning her boots for the sake of precious seconds as she went for the door.
Locked, but fortunately she spotted Excella tinkering with the desk earlier just before the shudders closed, which meant it was possible that the controls for the entire room was stationed at that consol.
She jogged to the desk, lightly jumping over Excella’s head so as to avoid kicking her a second time. Anger was there, but not malicious. Excella was a bio-terrorist that needed to be brought to justice, but it was beneath her to try and exact revenge for petty reasons. She could put a bullet in her, but never subject to something like torture.
She reached the consol; a small keyboard housed in its own station just beneath the desk. Excella didn’t even bother with concealing it, and its functionality was simple to figure out as with a few keystrokes—a little trial and error, not to mention an awkward moment with classical music suddenly wafting over the center of the room—she managed to get the door to unlock.
She was just about to rush to the door when she felt a sharp sting from her device, causing her to yelp and clasp at her chest as she stumbled to her knees, crying out just as the pressure was starting to reach her skull.
Memories struck her unwillingly in that time, like watching a sudden flash of her life right before her very eyes; and each flash brought about another agonizing sting that dropped her to the floor, clutching at her head for dear life as she screamed in utter agony.
Chris, Wesker was about to kill Chris and she couldn’t allow it. Oh God, he’s raising his hand,
“NO!”
She’s just a rookie on the force, having been recruited by S.T.A.R.S., but as she gathered her things and left the locker room, she was approached by a man who she later found out was named Trent… he told her about her mission, that the Arklay Mansion was dangerous… he gave her a mobile disk reader that encased strings of codes and riddles…
“W-we didn’t have a choice! Our friends were stuck out there and we had to save them…”
“You killed us Jill… you left good men like Foster and Brad Vickers out there to die,”
“I was trying to save you—“
“—we died because you were too late, and now Chris is going to die—“
“—NO!” she shouted violently, pounding her fist heavily against the oak desk as she felt the wood splinter slightly beneath her knuckles. The worst of the pain was over, and now it simply dulled to a small throb while the ghosts of her past faded away to faint whispers…
Was she responsible for their deaths?
“Don’t think, just keep moving,” Jill assured herself in her measured tone, picking herself up quickly as she made another mad dash for the door.
The handle gave way with a small jiggle, but she took no chances as she lowered herself to a crouch; partly opening the door to peer out into the hallway that she came from. Just as void and isolated as before.
She swung the door open, jogging down the many paths of this labyrinth. Flashbacks of Excella escorting her through here came to mind, and she simply backtracked until her feet carried her to the exam room where the nightmare really started for her.
The door was controlled by compressed gasses, hissing as it slid open with hardly a protest. And then there was the steel exam table that Jill was laying on top of… that original dread she felt when she first woke up from this ongoing nightmare, the fear, the anxiety, it all started right in this room.
Excella was a simple cog in this operation, but Wesker? He was alive and well and continuing his research on living human beings as if he had a right to victimize people against their will! What she went through was just a small price, but this wouldn’t be allowed to continue on under her watch, not while people like her and Chris were still alive.
Suddenly everything she went through seemed of little consequence to the bigger picture, and just how many lives have been lost because of people like Excella and Wesker. Her sacrifice, she would ensure that this place would burn to the ground even if it killed her.
The entire facility was almost exactly the same; a maze of rooms and corridors leading to research centers, sleeping quarters, and everything else in between. This place was built to be a self-contained environment, where the research scientists and staff couldn’t even find their own way out no doubt.
But if that was the case, then where were the scientists and staff?
Her freedom was more important than the answer to these questions, but they wouldn’t soon be forgotten, nor would the research notes and papers she collected along the way, stuffed into an empty gym bag and slung over her shoulder. She felt naked, bare feet padding along the industrial steel floor, and the chill of regulated air hitting her mostly bared chest. She didn’t anticipate that the place would be so vast, but time was of the essence, and she neglected them to save those few seconds.
Now she wishes she didn’t.
Her internal map led her down a hallway she had no memory of visiting before, leading to another industrial steel door. Just through the door led to the outside world though, and she could almost not contain the moan of delight leaving her lips as she tasted the sweet, un-recycled… beach air? The tangy tickle at the back of her throat, and the crisp chill that came, they were close to a beach. Oh God, hopefully this wasn’t going to be a repeat of what Claire went through at the Rockfort Facility.
‘Let’s just find the shore and see where this facility ends, and then we’ll panic.’
*****
“We need the Las Plagas research here in Africa. Jacobs managed to re-create the old Progenitor virus through the STTS flower, but it’s just as unstable as before, and we can’t reproduce the T-Virus.”
“I didn’t send you to Africa to reproduce the T-virus, I sent you there to mass produce the Progenitor in preparation for the Las Plagas… the T-virus is no longer relevant.”
“But Wesker, we were instructed—“
“—you were instructed to follow my requests. Spencer is no longer part of the equation; you received my memo on this matter so why am I repeating myself Dr.?”
The view screen brought forth perfect clarity of Dr. Johns perspiring, and it wasn’t just the overbearing heat of the African sun. Johns was a man of passion for his research, but just like any lackey under a substantially high payroll, and even higher research budget knew one fundamental truth; don’t fuck with the hand that feeds you: “I understand sir, I’ll let the research team know—“
“—you do that, and don’t ever contact me again unless you have something else to report,” Wesker cut him off for the second time, his nimble fingers flying over the keys of his consol as the uplink was cut off, leaving nothing but a black screen in its wake.
This was why Spencer had to die. His vision was clouded by the aspect of his own mortality, and the man no longer gave himself over to his research as much as he fought for a means to ensure his own survival.
“I was to become a God…”
The last words of a dying man, and so arrogant in his ways that he didn’t even suspect that Wesker already turned his allegiance in, and now his soul was sold to Tricell for the unlimited funding that brought new life to the old Umbrella Corporation.
“One more loose end to tie off and I can say goodbye to this piss-hole once and for all,” Wesker gloated, gloved hands clasping together. The whole world saw him as a villain, and after Raccoon he couldn’t blame them, but that’s simply due to a lack of vision. He was no monster, and a prophet was never known as one in his own home town.
They would all see, and then who would be standing at the top of the hill while waiting eagerly for his followers?
His vision blind sighted the rest of his world, and he didn’t even catch the click of the hammer until it was too late. He turned slowly, and the last sight he caught was the barrel of a gun, and Jill Valentine holding it steady, like the cold hand of death.
She almost looked happy—
—Click…
*****
With a burning hole in his left eye socket, Jill was suddenly at a loss of words; standing there in nothing but a bra and BDU pants, her hand not even trembling as the chamber smoked, the smell of cordite still fresh in the air.
This wasn’t how things should have gone down, but the man was a monster, proving time and again that simple law and order no longer applies. He willingly captured Jill as a personal vendetta against the old S.T.A.R.S. members, and to such a hateful degree that even if Jill were to be tortured or worse, it would mean nothing to him.
She should have a personal sense of revenge justifying what she did, but it wasn’t even about that… he had to be stopped. Two, three, four more bullets were fired, making the gaping hole in his eye socket larger than life and left the room smelling of cooked flesh.
THAT was for her and all of her fallen comrades.
She finally lowered the weapon, hovering far away from his body as she tinkered with another computer consol to see if she could get an outside line established. She needed to get a message out there to the rest of the gang and warn them not only about Wesker, but Tricell.
Tricell was the company that established the BSAA, and they did so for the same reasons that Umbrella founded the anti-terrorist unit to combat the viral outbreak in Raccoon: it was their way to save public face and keep the general populous happy while they continued their research.
However Wesker was communicating it was apparent that the line was lost, leaving only a faulty internet connection. Using one of her old dummy accounts, Jill pulled up a chair—in full view of Wesker—and set down the research material that she had discovered. Chris knew where to look, and with Jill undoubtedly reported as an MIA, he would be digging for answers anywhere, leaving no stone unturned as it were.
The files she discovered in her browsing were inconsequential at best, but it would point Chris in the right direction, including what she discovered about Tricell. Email after email was sent out, and using more than one account so that only bits and pieces would show up, and without the complete report, it was speculation at best. Chris didn’t have a strong suit with electronics or biology, but he was a detective at heart. He would discover the truth.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you put the world through this again Wesker.”
“Have a little more faith than that Jill.”
That icy chill… a simple sideways glance and she saw that his body was no longer where she left it, and while she was tempted to reach for her gun, there was the last file to send that held more importance. Her finger hovered over the ‘Return’ key, but it was in vain…
She blacked out, remembering being thrown across the room with such force that her body almost went into shock. Jill never felt the impact.
*****
Ooh, her head was hurting like she just got the crap kicked out of her.
The last thing she remembered was the office, and then everything went blank. She couldn’t open her eyes because the pain to her skull made every little flash of light hurt.
“Hand me the syringe over there, would you?”
Wait, she knew that voice… Wesker! He must have still been on the island while the experiment was being conducted. He obviously didn’t trust Excella to a deeper extent.
A prick in her arm brought about a flood of relief to her body, allowing her eyes to crack open and catch such a sight before her that she could almost see the other woman smiling like a shark in spite of herself.
Jill and Wesker, standing over Excella like a pair of vultures.
“W-what is this, Wesker? Let me up right now!”
“Oh be quiet,” he snapped, walking around the outside of Jill who was still dressed as he had found her, “I should tell you that I don’t hold Jill responsible for faulty products, though I did have to remind her the cost for not following orders.”
Jill stood there like a good toy soldier. Like EXCELLA’S good toy soldier. “This project is mine, and I had control over it!”
He wasn’t even remotely pleased with the sudden outburst, “With MY research. You belong to me, just as Tricell belongs to me. Your company would be nothing without my T-virus research, and I gave you the location of the STTS flower for the Progenitor virus as we agreed, but don’t you ever forget your place,” he said, pointing a leveled finger at her helpless form.
It was a delicious irony for Jill to savor, and she knew that was in part to Wesker’s tampering with her chest device, but watching Excella strapped down like some lab experiment like Jill was earlier, well it brought about a moment of sadistic glee that she tried so desperately to ignore.
“You were so haughty over your success that you failed to notice that the Griffith Device shuts down with excessive ‘stimulation’. The result; I was shot in the head.”
Excella never witnessed Wesker raising his voice, and her body fell to a tremble as he towered over her; gloved hands gripping the edges of the table as she caught the faint whine of bending steel beneath that steely grasp.
“You still hold use to me, but the Griffith Project is no longer yours to manage.”
“But—“
“—Instead… I will take what research data you have and hand it over to my scientists in Africa. You just continue developing the Las Plagas virus like a good little girl.”
It was Excella’s turn to flash a hint of arrogance in spite of her plight, “You can’t have my research data Wesker, not this way. If you want it, then re-negotiate your deal with me AFTER you untie me. I’ve worked too hard on this project simply to have it taken away.”
He smiled, and watched as that smug expression was wiped away from Excella’s face. Taking in a deep breath for emphasis, he rose to full height and brought his hands together just at the small of his back, casually circling around her gurney in contemplative thought. “Do I ever love your spunk Excella… you almost remind me of a younger me,” Coming to a halt just behind Jill, his hands then slid carefully over her bared shoulders, head residing beside her left cheek, “but you always fail to grasp the reality. What prevents me from simply killing you is the money from your Gionne family; members of whom you turned to ME to extinguish so that you could take control over Tricell.”
He side-stepped away from Jill, stepping towards the wall monitor that was mounted against the wall to Excella’s left, “I applaud your lack of boundaries, but they do tend to get you in trouble.”
A few keystrokes later, and that dread returned to her very core, threatening to turn into panic. The view screen came to life, and Excella was looking right back at herself, and the ‘experiment’ she was conducting with Jill back in her office.
“You see now just how much trouble you can get into when you fail to plan?”
Wesker’s words mixed with Excella’s tickling strokes along Jill’s underarms, all while taking glee in the tortured expressions the stimulation was providing her with.
“I’ll get the research material from you willingly, and when I’m done with that, I plan to erase any trace of it from your mind.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, but it didn’t stop her from talking; “Oh, and you plan to do that by killing me, or maybe asking me nicely?”
“No. I plan to use the Griffith serum for that.”
Her head snapped towards Wesker, her face flush with outrage and panic, “You can’t, the serum is too unstable in high doses and it would kill me.” As if that little nugget of information would really save her, unless his plan was to kill her all along.
“What were you planning to do with Jill? You developed the apparatus to cultivate the virus developed by the serum and use it as a cochlear implant of sorts-hardwiring the brain with a second subconscious that would eventually consume hers given enough conditioning.” He pressed his hands against the gurney, leaning forward as he gazed right back into those chocolate eyes of hers, “the key word is ‘conditioning’, and I plan to use the serum in its raw form to do just that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Ask Jill, you’ve already conditioned her good and plenty haven’t you? And that was just from a good five or ten minutes of your ‘special’ play time? It’s only fair that she gets a chance at returning the favor, being a well-established member of our organization now.”
“This is childish.”
“No more so then you wasting MY time with a defective product that—under normal circumstances—would have resulted in me being dead right now,” he countered her argument.
She fell silent, any last trace of protest leaving her lips in fear that she might anger Wesker further which could result in her own untimely death. So the overstimulation of Jill’s processor resulted in a momentary malfunction, by all rights she should be allowed to continue her work and compensate for the damaged device, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“Fine, I’ll ‘give’ you my research data and drop my end of the project to focus on Las Plagas, now would you be so kind to release me?”
She didn’t win the gamble and was compensating in fear, it would seem that her will was easily adaptable given the environment, and something Wesker couldn’t allow lest he willingly allow for mistakes because the pressure was too much. “No. No you may not be released, and you will give me the data anyways, but consider this ‘your’ conditioning process never to falter in your judgment,” his tone held that edge of calculated malice, rendering any argument following absolutely worthless.
“Jill, accompany me for a moment would you?” as if she would actually protest to the request. “Excella, any further argument from you and you’ll see just how serious I am with backing up my threats.” The last part was to ensure he wouldn’t be interrupted with mindless bauble while trying to hold a conversation.
The two exited to the far corner of the room just outside the automated door, leaving Excella to ponder over her restraints with idle tugs to confirm they were solid.
“Do you remember the subroutine X-1 I was discussing with you earlier?”
Jill simply nodded without question.
“Good. Activate, and continue until I return for the results.”
Another nod, and soon she spun on a single heel to turn and face Excella.
Wesker’s voice raised enough to address everyone in the room, “I shall return in a couple of hours to pick up your research data, and from there I think we’ll also proceed with the memory wipe to ‘remove’ any unnecessary equations. Ladies, do have fun.” And with that he left the room, his back turned as he was granted with the wonderful melody of Excella’s scream of protest just before the air tight door slid shut with a hiss of the hydraulics.
It was Wesker’s turn to smile.
So far Jill hasn’t come closer to discovering just what Wesker and Excella plan to do with the Griffith device, but it doesn’t seem to be the kernel of Wesker’s grand scheme, but its importance holds some value to Excella Gionne.
What Jill DOES know is that Excella has more than just an idle fascination with testing the reflexes of her test subject. Idle kids play is now taking a turn for the personal, and while Jill suffers the onslaught of a sadistic sociopath, she also has an attack of conscience… can she keep up this charade long enough to ensure her freedom, or will Excella become her latest puppet master in Wesker’s ongoing charade of global infestation?
Hopefully this foot fetish isn’t part of the plan.
*****
“I don’t mind that sweet, sweet laughter of yours Jill, but would you be so kind as to stop fidgeting for me?”
Ten minutes of this. Ten full minutes of the assault of Jill’s foot while Excella drank in each detail with appeal bordering beyond research. The other woman was licking her lips almost constantly, showing care and tact in the way her fingertips wiggled along the bottom of her foot, enticing a wide range of responses.
It was a matter of time before her left foot fell victim, and the apprehension Jill felt from the first time was almost nonexistent. She knew it wasn’t hers, and it felt almost disturbing that she was actually fine with that. Now wasn’t the time for idle musing though, because she was just given another command, and practically became stiff as a board; sitting upright in the same proper posture she held like before. The only difference was that she still wasn’t denied her capacity to vocally respond.
This was too good to be true, but perhaps a little case of duality is in order? Excella wanted to test the limits of the altered serum dosage, so while Jill struggled with playing the good Barbie doll, “Jill, would you be kind enough to remove your left boot and sock for me?”
flutter of nails along the underside of her toes, she could feel each and every nerve wanting to twitch and wiggle, yet all she did—aside from giggling in rapid succession—was lean forward rather nimbly, and began undoing the buckle of her left boot.
Her eye was off the original mark now, which drove her laughter up an octave and caused occasional involuntary twitching of her bared toes. The pressure she felt from the device strengthened on her body, and her mind became less foggy. Just in time to catch the final reel as she tugged the zipper down and simply slid out of her boot. The trick was to balance curling her left leg up while trying not to fall over, but she handled it gracefully, and a simple tug of her thumb later Excella now had a second bared foot resting on her lap, with Jill shifting her body to better accommodate.
She never stopped laughing.
Well that was just fine, because Excella never stopped tickling that pretty little foot of hers. Drooling over the fact, maybe? She rewarded Jill for her obedience with an increase in pressure of those wiggling digits just as she made another full sweep along the bottom of her foot, paying special attention to the wrinkles and ridges. What was most fascinating about this is that Excella hadn’t expected such tender skin of a woman that seemed to be on her feet more often than not. Since when does a government lackey find the time for the pampering qualities of life?
Perhaps Jill would be willing to share her beauty secrets after a little more persuasion… well, maybe not Beauty secrets, not like Excella needed help in that department.
“It’s moments like these that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m glad I can share it with you, I feel as though I can trust you implicitly,” she said in such a serious tone one might even overlook the fact that she was fondling Jill’s foot so savagely. The woman was doing her part admirably, and had a grin on her lips that almost seemed too wide for her face.
Let’s not neglect other assets though. She slowly lowered Jill’s ankle, leaving her legs crossed while managing to never let her nails leave the silky heel of her foot. Despite her request from earlier Jill still found it hard to hold still, and the idle wiggling of frantically desperate toes began.
One hand free, it descended upon the helpless left foot, all while watching that same neutrally happy smile on the other woman’s face as she once again subjected herself to involuntarily watching. Maybe this woman had more of a fetish then Excella originally anticipated. Doubtful but wishful thinking, especially if Wesker was kind enough to give Jill over to her as reward for a job well done, but that was also wishful thinking. Wesker wasn’t the type of man to ignore a valued project success if he could bend it endlessly to his will, and Excella feared the man enough to never try and cross him.
Wait… she stopped altogether and left Jill to relax while falling in idle contemplation. Excella didn’t have the time frame she originally expected, especially after having a quick glance towards the clock set on her desk. She needed to wrap things up before her attention was required, but not necessarily ready to give Jill her finishing touch.
Hands clapping together enthusiastically, she slowly lowered the upper half of her body until she was hovering several inches above those still and motionless feet, and while she licked her lips most actively, she left the final pleasure to her cruel device of torture from before.
The reflex hammer, its curved tip following the curvature of her left foot smoothly, up and down, left to right. The response was as strong as before, and it only doubled in intensity when Excella’s idle hand shifted gears to finally give Jill a double-dose, and if she thought she put the woman in a tizzy before, the moment her nails skittered along Jill’s left foot, not even the device was able to fully stop her from fidgeting and squirming while upgrading from laughter to flat out cackling.
Did she know what she was getting into? Jill was growing frantic inside her living shell, seeing nothing, and feeling nothing but that tickling that was sending violent shocks through her system. She could practically feel the stress put on her device because it was causing a pressure in her head that made her want to scream in agony, and through the bout of cackling, words of protest were starting to form in garbled, inaudible babble. Excella couldn’t hear the panic in Jill’s voice, the panic that should have been a red flag that she was hitting a danger zone.
She could tell that her body was starting to get into a panic. The violent spasms she could feel coursing through her muscles were that of someone bound, or restrained. Her body knew and understood that even though she was simply following orders; that the tickling itself was forcing her to endure something that she couldn’t control or pull away from as her body would like.
Jill was slumping forward slightly as her laughter became hurried, the unrestrained cackling resigning to a sort of defeat as Excella felt another handful of involuntary jerking and spasms. She would have stopped to address this, but Jill’s foot was obedient in returning dutifully to her lap once the tremor had passed, allowing another cruel lick of her nails to trace invisible lines against the plush skin that sank and rebound so beautifully.
It was too extreme to follow, and Excella didn’t anticipate what would happen next. She was so caught up in the woman’s torture that as her face lowered close enough to feel the warmth of Jill’s skin,
BAM!
Shock was the last expression caught on her face as Jill’s left foot jerked upwards violently, and struck her under the jaw with enough force to send her backwards with a KO blow.
It was a random act that Jill hadn’t expected, but she watched as Excella’s body suddenly floundered atop the couch, and finally slid to the floor with a heavy thud, remaining unmoving just as blood started to drip from the left side of her mouth.
It must have been one hell of a crushing blow, because she could even feel the soreness of her toes and along the top half of her foot where she impacted the woman’s chin. The woman’s bony chin that felt like a freaking chisel…
Have you ever tried kicking someone in the jaw with a bare foot? The actual act itself is best preformed with the side of the foot, as you can see almost every single martial artist do. The involuntary reflex though? All of the force was on the tips of her toes, and it was the biggest reason she was suddenly grabbing at the top of her foot, seething in pain.
Grabbing her foot…
“Holy shit,” she said, almost in a whisper. She cursed even louder when she found that she had control over her voice. She curled her hands, uncurled them, wiggled her fingers, even flexed her bare toes which caused her to stop and reflect on the assault that took place.
She shouldn’t leave when Excella was down like that. She should try and—‘WAKE UP JILL!’—right. She sprung to her feet, abandoning her boots for the sake of precious seconds as she went for the door.
Locked, but fortunately she spotted Excella tinkering with the desk earlier just before the shudders closed, which meant it was possible that the controls for the entire room was stationed at that consol.
She jogged to the desk, lightly jumping over Excella’s head so as to avoid kicking her a second time. Anger was there, but not malicious. Excella was a bio-terrorist that needed to be brought to justice, but it was beneath her to try and exact revenge for petty reasons. She could put a bullet in her, but never subject to something like torture.
She reached the consol; a small keyboard housed in its own station just beneath the desk. Excella didn’t even bother with concealing it, and its functionality was simple to figure out as with a few keystrokes—a little trial and error, not to mention an awkward moment with classical music suddenly wafting over the center of the room—she managed to get the door to unlock.
She was just about to rush to the door when she felt a sharp sting from her device, causing her to yelp and clasp at her chest as she stumbled to her knees, crying out just as the pressure was starting to reach her skull.
Memories struck her unwillingly in that time, like watching a sudden flash of her life right before her very eyes; and each flash brought about another agonizing sting that dropped her to the floor, clutching at her head for dear life as she screamed in utter agony.
Chris, Wesker was about to kill Chris and she couldn’t allow it. Oh God, he’s raising his hand,
“NO!”
She’s just a rookie on the force, having been recruited by S.T.A.R.S., but as she gathered her things and left the locker room, she was approached by a man who she later found out was named Trent… he told her about her mission, that the Arklay Mansion was dangerous… he gave her a mobile disk reader that encased strings of codes and riddles…
“W-we didn’t have a choice! Our friends were stuck out there and we had to save them…”
“You killed us Jill… you left good men like Foster and Brad Vickers out there to die,”
“I was trying to save you—“
“—we died because you were too late, and now Chris is going to die—“
“—NO!” she shouted violently, pounding her fist heavily against the oak desk as she felt the wood splinter slightly beneath her knuckles. The worst of the pain was over, and now it simply dulled to a small throb while the ghosts of her past faded away to faint whispers…
Was she responsible for their deaths?
“Don’t think, just keep moving,” Jill assured herself in her measured tone, picking herself up quickly as she made another mad dash for the door.
The handle gave way with a small jiggle, but she took no chances as she lowered herself to a crouch; partly opening the door to peer out into the hallway that she came from. Just as void and isolated as before.
She swung the door open, jogging down the many paths of this labyrinth. Flashbacks of Excella escorting her through here came to mind, and she simply backtracked until her feet carried her to the exam room where the nightmare really started for her.
The door was controlled by compressed gasses, hissing as it slid open with hardly a protest. And then there was the steel exam table that Jill was laying on top of… that original dread she felt when she first woke up from this ongoing nightmare, the fear, the anxiety, it all started right in this room.
Excella was a simple cog in this operation, but Wesker? He was alive and well and continuing his research on living human beings as if he had a right to victimize people against their will! What she went through was just a small price, but this wouldn’t be allowed to continue on under her watch, not while people like her and Chris were still alive.
Suddenly everything she went through seemed of little consequence to the bigger picture, and just how many lives have been lost because of people like Excella and Wesker. Her sacrifice, she would ensure that this place would burn to the ground even if it killed her.
The entire facility was almost exactly the same; a maze of rooms and corridors leading to research centers, sleeping quarters, and everything else in between. This place was built to be a self-contained environment, where the research scientists and staff couldn’t even find their own way out no doubt.
But if that was the case, then where were the scientists and staff?
Her freedom was more important than the answer to these questions, but they wouldn’t soon be forgotten, nor would the research notes and papers she collected along the way, stuffed into an empty gym bag and slung over her shoulder. She felt naked, bare feet padding along the industrial steel floor, and the chill of regulated air hitting her mostly bared chest. She didn’t anticipate that the place would be so vast, but time was of the essence, and she neglected them to save those few seconds.
Now she wishes she didn’t.
Her internal map led her down a hallway she had no memory of visiting before, leading to another industrial steel door. Just through the door led to the outside world though, and she could almost not contain the moan of delight leaving her lips as she tasted the sweet, un-recycled… beach air? The tangy tickle at the back of her throat, and the crisp chill that came, they were close to a beach. Oh God, hopefully this wasn’t going to be a repeat of what Claire went through at the Rockfort Facility.
‘Let’s just find the shore and see where this facility ends, and then we’ll panic.’
*****
“We need the Las Plagas research here in Africa. Jacobs managed to re-create the old Progenitor virus through the STTS flower, but it’s just as unstable as before, and we can’t reproduce the T-Virus.”
“I didn’t send you to Africa to reproduce the T-virus, I sent you there to mass produce the Progenitor in preparation for the Las Plagas… the T-virus is no longer relevant.”
“But Wesker, we were instructed—“
“—you were instructed to follow my requests. Spencer is no longer part of the equation; you received my memo on this matter so why am I repeating myself Dr.?”
The view screen brought forth perfect clarity of Dr. Johns perspiring, and it wasn’t just the overbearing heat of the African sun. Johns was a man of passion for his research, but just like any lackey under a substantially high payroll, and even higher research budget knew one fundamental truth; don’t fuck with the hand that feeds you: “I understand sir, I’ll let the research team know—“
“—you do that, and don’t ever contact me again unless you have something else to report,” Wesker cut him off for the second time, his nimble fingers flying over the keys of his consol as the uplink was cut off, leaving nothing but a black screen in its wake.
This was why Spencer had to die. His vision was clouded by the aspect of his own mortality, and the man no longer gave himself over to his research as much as he fought for a means to ensure his own survival.
“I was to become a God…”
The last words of a dying man, and so arrogant in his ways that he didn’t even suspect that Wesker already turned his allegiance in, and now his soul was sold to Tricell for the unlimited funding that brought new life to the old Umbrella Corporation.
“One more loose end to tie off and I can say goodbye to this piss-hole once and for all,” Wesker gloated, gloved hands clasping together. The whole world saw him as a villain, and after Raccoon he couldn’t blame them, but that’s simply due to a lack of vision. He was no monster, and a prophet was never known as one in his own home town.
They would all see, and then who would be standing at the top of the hill while waiting eagerly for his followers?
His vision blind sighted the rest of his world, and he didn’t even catch the click of the hammer until it was too late. He turned slowly, and the last sight he caught was the barrel of a gun, and Jill Valentine holding it steady, like the cold hand of death.
She almost looked happy—
—Click…
*****
With a burning hole in his left eye socket, Jill was suddenly at a loss of words; standing there in nothing but a bra and BDU pants, her hand not even trembling as the chamber smoked, the smell of cordite still fresh in the air.
This wasn’t how things should have gone down, but the man was a monster, proving time and again that simple law and order no longer applies. He willingly captured Jill as a personal vendetta against the old S.T.A.R.S. members, and to such a hateful degree that even if Jill were to be tortured or worse, it would mean nothing to him.
She should have a personal sense of revenge justifying what she did, but it wasn’t even about that… he had to be stopped. Two, three, four more bullets were fired, making the gaping hole in his eye socket larger than life and left the room smelling of cooked flesh.
THAT was for her and all of her fallen comrades.
She finally lowered the weapon, hovering far away from his body as she tinkered with another computer consol to see if she could get an outside line established. She needed to get a message out there to the rest of the gang and warn them not only about Wesker, but Tricell.
Tricell was the company that established the BSAA, and they did so for the same reasons that Umbrella founded the anti-terrorist unit to combat the viral outbreak in Raccoon: it was their way to save public face and keep the general populous happy while they continued their research.
However Wesker was communicating it was apparent that the line was lost, leaving only a faulty internet connection. Using one of her old dummy accounts, Jill pulled up a chair—in full view of Wesker—and set down the research material that she had discovered. Chris knew where to look, and with Jill undoubtedly reported as an MIA, he would be digging for answers anywhere, leaving no stone unturned as it were.
The files she discovered in her browsing were inconsequential at best, but it would point Chris in the right direction, including what she discovered about Tricell. Email after email was sent out, and using more than one account so that only bits and pieces would show up, and without the complete report, it was speculation at best. Chris didn’t have a strong suit with electronics or biology, but he was a detective at heart. He would discover the truth.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you put the world through this again Wesker.”
“Have a little more faith than that Jill.”
That icy chill… a simple sideways glance and she saw that his body was no longer where she left it, and while she was tempted to reach for her gun, there was the last file to send that held more importance. Her finger hovered over the ‘Return’ key, but it was in vain…
She blacked out, remembering being thrown across the room with such force that her body almost went into shock. Jill never felt the impact.
*****
Ooh, her head was hurting like she just got the crap kicked out of her.
The last thing she remembered was the office, and then everything went blank. She couldn’t open her eyes because the pain to her skull made every little flash of light hurt.
“Hand me the syringe over there, would you?”
Wait, she knew that voice… Wesker! He must have still been on the island while the experiment was being conducted. He obviously didn’t trust Excella to a deeper extent.
A prick in her arm brought about a flood of relief to her body, allowing her eyes to crack open and catch such a sight before her that she could almost see the other woman smiling like a shark in spite of herself.
Jill and Wesker, standing over Excella like a pair of vultures.
“W-what is this, Wesker? Let me up right now!”
“Oh be quiet,” he snapped, walking around the outside of Jill who was still dressed as he had found her, “I should tell you that I don’t hold Jill responsible for faulty products, though I did have to remind her the cost for not following orders.”
Jill stood there like a good toy soldier. Like EXCELLA’S good toy soldier. “This project is mine, and I had control over it!”
He wasn’t even remotely pleased with the sudden outburst, “With MY research. You belong to me, just as Tricell belongs to me. Your company would be nothing without my T-virus research, and I gave you the location of the STTS flower for the Progenitor virus as we agreed, but don’t you ever forget your place,” he said, pointing a leveled finger at her helpless form.
It was a delicious irony for Jill to savor, and she knew that was in part to Wesker’s tampering with her chest device, but watching Excella strapped down like some lab experiment like Jill was earlier, well it brought about a moment of sadistic glee that she tried so desperately to ignore.
“You were so haughty over your success that you failed to notice that the Griffith Device shuts down with excessive ‘stimulation’. The result; I was shot in the head.”
Excella never witnessed Wesker raising his voice, and her body fell to a tremble as he towered over her; gloved hands gripping the edges of the table as she caught the faint whine of bending steel beneath that steely grasp.
“You still hold use to me, but the Griffith Project is no longer yours to manage.”
“But—“
“—Instead… I will take what research data you have and hand it over to my scientists in Africa. You just continue developing the Las Plagas virus like a good little girl.”
It was Excella’s turn to flash a hint of arrogance in spite of her plight, “You can’t have my research data Wesker, not this way. If you want it, then re-negotiate your deal with me AFTER you untie me. I’ve worked too hard on this project simply to have it taken away.”
He smiled, and watched as that smug expression was wiped away from Excella’s face. Taking in a deep breath for emphasis, he rose to full height and brought his hands together just at the small of his back, casually circling around her gurney in contemplative thought. “Do I ever love your spunk Excella… you almost remind me of a younger me,” Coming to a halt just behind Jill, his hands then slid carefully over her bared shoulders, head residing beside her left cheek, “but you always fail to grasp the reality. What prevents me from simply killing you is the money from your Gionne family; members of whom you turned to ME to extinguish so that you could take control over Tricell.”
He side-stepped away from Jill, stepping towards the wall monitor that was mounted against the wall to Excella’s left, “I applaud your lack of boundaries, but they do tend to get you in trouble.”
A few keystrokes later, and that dread returned to her very core, threatening to turn into panic. The view screen came to life, and Excella was looking right back at herself, and the ‘experiment’ she was conducting with Jill back in her office.
“You see now just how much trouble you can get into when you fail to plan?”
Wesker’s words mixed with Excella’s tickling strokes along Jill’s underarms, all while taking glee in the tortured expressions the stimulation was providing her with.
“I’ll get the research material from you willingly, and when I’m done with that, I plan to erase any trace of it from your mind.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen, but it didn’t stop her from talking; “Oh, and you plan to do that by killing me, or maybe asking me nicely?”
“No. I plan to use the Griffith serum for that.”
Her head snapped towards Wesker, her face flush with outrage and panic, “You can’t, the serum is too unstable in high doses and it would kill me.” As if that little nugget of information would really save her, unless his plan was to kill her all along.
“What were you planning to do with Jill? You developed the apparatus to cultivate the virus developed by the serum and use it as a cochlear implant of sorts-hardwiring the brain with a second subconscious that would eventually consume hers given enough conditioning.” He pressed his hands against the gurney, leaning forward as he gazed right back into those chocolate eyes of hers, “the key word is ‘conditioning’, and I plan to use the serum in its raw form to do just that.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Ask Jill, you’ve already conditioned her good and plenty haven’t you? And that was just from a good five or ten minutes of your ‘special’ play time? It’s only fair that she gets a chance at returning the favor, being a well-established member of our organization now.”
“This is childish.”
“No more so then you wasting MY time with a defective product that—under normal circumstances—would have resulted in me being dead right now,” he countered her argument.
She fell silent, any last trace of protest leaving her lips in fear that she might anger Wesker further which could result in her own untimely death. So the overstimulation of Jill’s processor resulted in a momentary malfunction, by all rights she should be allowed to continue her work and compensate for the damaged device, but he wouldn’t allow it.
“Fine, I’ll ‘give’ you my research data and drop my end of the project to focus on Las Plagas, now would you be so kind to release me?”
She didn’t win the gamble and was compensating in fear, it would seem that her will was easily adaptable given the environment, and something Wesker couldn’t allow lest he willingly allow for mistakes because the pressure was too much. “No. No you may not be released, and you will give me the data anyways, but consider this ‘your’ conditioning process never to falter in your judgment,” his tone held that edge of calculated malice, rendering any argument following absolutely worthless.
“Jill, accompany me for a moment would you?” as if she would actually protest to the request. “Excella, any further argument from you and you’ll see just how serious I am with backing up my threats.” The last part was to ensure he wouldn’t be interrupted with mindless bauble while trying to hold a conversation.
The two exited to the far corner of the room just outside the automated door, leaving Excella to ponder over her restraints with idle tugs to confirm they were solid.
“Do you remember the subroutine X-1 I was discussing with you earlier?”
Jill simply nodded without question.
“Good. Activate, and continue until I return for the results.”
Another nod, and soon she spun on a single heel to turn and face Excella.
Wesker’s voice raised enough to address everyone in the room, “I shall return in a couple of hours to pick up your research data, and from there I think we’ll also proceed with the memory wipe to ‘remove’ any unnecessary equations. Ladies, do have fun.” And with that he left the room, his back turned as he was granted with the wonderful melody of Excella’s scream of protest just before the air tight door slid shut with a hiss of the hydraulics.
It was Wesker’s turn to smile.
