LOG (underworldwars): I'm begging for mercy

[zerosuitjill]

Who; zerosuitjill and albert__wesker
What; JILL REUNITES WITH HER FAVORITE PERSON EVERRRRR THIS IS SUCH A DREAM COME TRUE, REALLY.
Where; A bar. Where else?
When; Monday, December 12. Evening.
Rating; T. Language, creeping; inevitable male-to-female violence, most likely.
Status; Closed; ongoing

Comments

[albert__wesker]

Truly a shame for Jill, to be having so hard a time.

Wesker did not share the sentiment.

In fact-- he was rather amused, when all was said and done.

Of course simply being here was something of an annoyance, but then, anything outside of his own control was considered as much. Control was power and without it... Well. He would make the best of a deteriorating situation and the start of that would be to find dear Jill Valentine. She was obviously around here somewhere. Wesker knew her better than she would ever admit to-- certainly only a weakness on her part for so many reasons. But he'd spent recent years with her nearby, first in restraints and then in a tube and finally of her own volition.

Ah, but it had all started of her own volition, hadn't it? Back when she was proud to be working under him. Wesker had read her faults then, pushed her through training that was always for his benefit, his data. He knew Jill Valentine the way one might know how a favorite book will end.

Or how a favorite pet will react given certain stimuli.

It was distinctly strange, searching her out instead of the other way around. Wesker was so used to assuming that all his old friends were several steps behind him, though he'd never bothered taking any more than a passing interest in their whereabouts; they were annoying but hardly worth the effort. S.T.A.R.S., B.S.A.A., all the letters spelled the same thing in the end-- useless. The African mosquitos were more of a bother and generally harder to swat. The single time that Jill and Chris had managed to find him had turned out only to Wesker's ultimate benefit; there was simply no reason to waste his time checking over his shoulder.

The strange anamoly of this place, however... he would go along with it and see where it took him. The loss of Jill's servitude had been ill-done, he could admit that. Chris and that Alomar woman-- and Jill herself had been no help in the end. She was annoyingly stubborn, fighting the the virus at every turn. Weakening herself just enough that Chris had been able to stop her. Save her.

And Excella--

Well, the loss of Excella wasn't really heartbreaking. It was only regrettable that even with the Urobos transformation, Excella had still been as ineffectual as she had been as a human. All look and no substance, that woman.

But here he was, without reason. Yet Jill was here as well and Wesker was not the sort of man to over-look coincidence that could be utilized to his advantadge. The bar was hardly empty and yet Jill stood out like a beacon among the others, all he had needed was a glance inside the door. She was filled with potential. Filled with her wonderful immunity.

Beneath his dark glasses, Wesker's yellow eyes were smiling.

[zerosuitjill]

Jill's mind was in a dozen places. Here in the Underworld, back home -- in the past, the present, the future; with Chris, with Misaki, with John, but always going back to Wesker, countless faces she couldn't forget and admittedly didn't want to forget because she didn't have the right to forget something like that--

Damn it.

The nightmares had gone down in number, her adaptive reflexes had softened, the memories of the people and the claustrophobia and the pain and his touches had stopped haunting every conscious moment -- but Wesker had brought most of that rushing back. Just by talking to her.

Jill drummed her fingers along her full glass, the motions a little more forceful than usual, and her neutral face finally shifted into a frown. And this was all an inward look she was taking, not even fully considering just yet what this could mean for the rest of the people here.

Her fingers slowed as a small chill swept up between her shoulder blades. An old instinct; letting her hand fall still, she looked up at the wall behind the bar to work through her peripheral vision. Nothing immediately caught her attention, so she glanced slowly around, starting with the entrance--

--and went positively still.

Not still like frozen in fear -- not even still like caught off guard. It was a stillness bristling with tension: a cat confronted with another unexpectedly, the indecision of whether to throw the first bite or just pretend to ignore it evident on her face.

Jill stared across the room with a look that would have sent most of the men she'd known running -- pointless and harmless now, she was aware, but it was like trying not to recoil when touched with something hot.

Reflex. Much like the twitch of her fingers that said she wanted to tear her gun free and empty that clip in the direction of his smug face.

Several tense seconds that felt like forever -- and then, with obvious effort, she turned away again, back to the bar. Nothing changed, except for that lingering stiffness in her spine.

Don't. Not here, not now. For once in your damn life, don't.

[albert__wesker]

Oh, how disappointed he was in that. Her glare didn't matter-- Jill's posturing he simply ignored completely-- the real disappointment was for the fact that she controlled herself when it was obvious what she wanted.

To hurt him.

The thought took the smile from his eyes to the corners of his lips and showed in the way a single hand curled into a fist at his side, the bleed of physical intent. The finish of what her fingers had started. The leather of his glove groaned softly under the pressure in that casual motion. But if it wasn't to be he was just as content as the next man to be professional. Violence was arbitrary. Black boots were quiet but not silent, slow and measured across the length of the bar room, each step bringing them closer. Back together once again.

Black-sleeved arms slid onto the bar next to Jill and her tea and Wesker leaned over them, the very picture of casual-- an almost extact opposite of Jill's stiff spine. His posture was mocking her. He purposefully leaned in toward her as if she were truly an old friend and diminished the space between them even more.

"What a pleasure."

[zerosuitjill]

If Jill thought it was impossible for her body to go any more rigid than it was, she was quickly proven wrong. Her arms tensed when she heard him drawing closer; her jaw set when he sat down; she lifted her head in a brusque, terse motion when he leaned closer, and at his voice a brief vein of restraint shot through her, terribly obvious in the way she twitched from the shoulders down.

Still, she never looked over -- what's more, she didn't recoil, didn't stand, didn't even make a move for her weapons. She did release her glass, though, in case she made a stupid mistake like clenching her fingers through it.

It took her a long few moments to find her voice -- and even then it was low, flat, and teeming with venom.

"If you're looking for information, forget it. Go read the welcoming guide like everyone else."

[albert__wesker]

My, my, the restraint. Wesker felt a distant thrill of pride, a craftsmith glad when his weapon turned out so exquistly honed. Becuase he did now-- and always would-- consider Jill his work. There were pieces of her that would forever remain his design until death and even (if he could manage it) after. She had been betrayed first by her own need to fight back and then by her very cells.

"Jill, Jill. That's hardly the way to start a friendly conversation, is it? Besides." Wesker smiled further, a sharp stretching of lips, as he sat back. The movement away was pointed and certainly baiting when paired with, "you know I could simply make you tell me, if I so chose."

[zerosuitjill]

Jill twisted sharply on her stool nearly before the last word was out of his mouth, one hand gripping the counter hard enough to make her already pale knuckles turn bone white. It was, again, reflex: insinuation, connection, impulsive reaction. The last of these was defensive as much as it was offensive -- there was the desire to seize the front of his coat and slam his head down into the bar, yes, but that remark had also touched on a sense of self-preservation so deep that she hadn't even consciously meant to react like she said.

Jill eyed him with a narrow look of pure hatred, her position one that let her face him completely, that gave her more ways to move -- but, most importantly, that let her see exactly where his hands were.

It took her a moment to catch up with all the unconscious reactions. Once that was done, she didn't relax, but she did shift, slightly, as if deciding he wasn't worth all of her attention. On the other hand, her eyes didn't move from him.

"What do you want?"

Jill didn't argue his point -- she didn't know if he was calling her bluff, but she knew better than to risk telling him what he could and couldn't do. Not when it came to certain areas, at least, and this was one in particular she had absolutely no desire to risk if he chose to be petty.

[albert__wesker]

His elbows had been slid back onto the edge of the bar that Jill was now so painfully man-handling, still casual, still everything that Jill herself was not able to manage. Apparently her control only went so far, skin deep. The other reactions...

Behind the dark glasses, Wesker was watching her carefully. Studying each move, each sign of internal struggle, each emotion as they passed across Jill's plain face. Every bit of it was data. She had been, after all, the first and only success with any of the updated Progenitor strains. That meant that even now Jill was a walking data sheet and that each thought and motion was important.

To science.

Of course she was ulitmately still disposable, but it would be a shame.

Wesker kept his hands still, hanging just off the side of the bar. Unlike her (and the curiousity was nearly a physical itch-- how fast would she be now? How flexible? How strong?) he didn't need to set himself up in a position to maximize physical efficiency. Physical efficiency was ever at his dangling fingertips, maximum potential waiting for release.

"You're here, obviously have been here, considering your ease with the local establishment. I just want to know the how, Jill. The why." His head tilted slightly. "Surely that can't be too much to ask."

[zerosuitjill]

Exhaling sharply, Jill turned back to the bar, but lacking any of the ease she'd possessed before Wesker had invited himself over. It was all but impossible; her personal prejudices and distrust aside, her body -- her nerves, her reflexes, her unconscious glances -- was degrading (evolving, Wesker would probably call it) back to the programmed habits she'd tried so hard to abandon. She was constantly aware of the balance of her weight, the exact distance between them, how best to move if Wesker made a grab for her (pointless also on her part); she could no longer hear his heartbeat or estimate his body temperature, as once upon a time -- her senses remained sharp, but not what they'd once been -- but she saw everything in his posture in the corner of her eye, her instincts trying to read, predict.

Again, pointless, but habit was habit, however base and animal, and they were habits that had been drilled into her too deeply to just disregard and forget. Jill didn't wake at the slightest sounds anymore, didn't lash out if something touched her in her sleep or jump at an unexpected brush in public -- and she largely had John to thank for that, she figured -- but every part of her sensed danger in the man beside her, and instinct tended to take over in that situation.

That, and because it was Wesker, maybe his presence simply touched on the dark part of Jill that she'd struggled to bury with an almost desperate need.

No.

She wouldn't think like that. Not now, anyway.

There was a pause as she considered his words. The longer she resisted answering, the longer he'd stay -- and if she wore out his patience or simply amused him enough with her outbursts, there was no telling what he'd resort to.

The thought that he had any sort of hold over her -- metaphorically, this time -- made her frown deepen and her eyes flash, but that was the truth. He was only asking simply things, after all, things he could discover on his own in enough time -- telling him that much wouldn't be betraying anyone.

"I was given the same excuse as everyone else," she said tightly, still staring determinedly down at her drink. "Hades was looking to destroy the universe. Hecate brought us here to distract him. Hades was killed a few weeks ago, so now we have no idea what's going to happen."

Jill shifted just so, tilting her head slightly away from him -- and swallowing a sudden, burning wave of rage at being reminded of how close he was. "People still come and go. There's no way in and no way out except for what the gods use, and we have no idea how they do it."

[albert__wesker]

It certainly sounded too obscure to be a lie-- Jill would have come up with something better than that, something in the range of believability. Which meant she thought it was the truth. Wesker reached up and rubbed his cheek, his gesture absent and thoughtless. Hades and Hecate? "So this is the Underworld?" It was nearly rhetorical. More important was that, according to Jill, no one had found a way out yet.

Wesker was torn between being annoyed at the delay in his bigger plans and being interested in the opportunity set in front of him.

Literally.

"How have you managed to keep busy?" Wesker's snort was quiet but no less derisive for the lack of sound. "Without any terrorists to stamp out, Jill, there's no doubt in my mind that you must be positively bored. Certainly a closed environment and the same handful of people day in and day out isn't enough for you."

[zerosuitjill]

That incited a soft snort, although there was absolutely no humor in the sound. "What, you've suddenly taken an interest in my life besides what you can culture inside me?" She shot him another look, but then stared ahead again when she found that the sight of his face made her positively sick.

"...I manage," she added after a moment, her tone still stiff as she took up her drink again. Much of the ice had melted by now. "A society is a society, no matter where it is. There are always things to do. Things to protect people from."

Jill sipped once -- not thirsty, but just trying to reestablish some sense of normalcy.

Well. The Underworld equivalent of normalcy.

"Besides," she went on, ice frosting over her words, "after the last three years, I'm not too worried about being bored. Just being able to breathe on my own is enough to make me happy."

[albert__wesker]

"You were breathing on your own," Wesker said, the words positively dismissive. He may have even been angered at the insinuation and the blame that she so dearly loved to place on anyone other than herself, except that getting angry now would have clearly been a waste of time. Wherever this was, it wasn't home. Which meant he'd been abducted. And anyone who had the power to abduct him had something that Wesker wanted.

To actively alienate the one person who he knew he could use given the right circumstances would be idiotic. Would the right circumstances come along? Better to plan for it.

"Things to protect people from," he repeated. Wesker could only assume that he was included in that list. "Well at least you have a purpose." He was still mocking her. "It wouldn't do to let you get rusty."

[zerosuitjill]

Rage boiled again inside her, but Jill said nothing to that first reply. Arguing with him was like doing so with a brick wall, but more dangerous.

"No," she said, aiming for dismissive in return but only coming off as vaguely less enraged than before. "It wouldn't." Of course, she wasn't about to explain what kind of dangers she'd had to fight against here -- none of the monsters, including Lickers (which still lived out their sorry lives in the Labyrinth), or the events that took place. Wesker would find out about the latter, at least, sooner or later, and she'd do everything in her power to keep him from knowing about the former. Not that she had much control over that.

"I can't imagine you like the thought of a tool getting dull."