He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. -Nietzsche

Jill wasn't sure if everything was numb, or if everything hurt so much she just couldn't tell the difference. Considering her consciousness was completely unbearable, she figured the sensation she was drowning in was that of searing pain rather than numbness. But was she really even conscious? She couldn't tell if her eyes were open or not. She only knew she couldn't see, and couldn't feel herself blinking. She could only hope that her eyes were closed.

She had to start figuring things out, if only to focus on something other than the pain. She could hear, of that much she was certain. But the sound came from far away, as an inconstant static of noise from underwater. She tried to concentrate on that sound, tried to identify what it was. Wind? Where was she? How did she get there?

A second noise arrived, a muffled crunching sound. It grew louder at a rhythmic pace, and Jill felt that she should know what it was. Crunching...moving...walking... They were footsteps. The sound stopped, and though it had sounded as if they were a million miles away, she suspected those noisy feet were right beside her. Confirming her suspicions, she felt something on her neck. A hand maybe. She was being choked! No... No, she was just having her pulse checked. Satisfied that she at least had something resembling a pulse, no matter how week she had no doubt it may be, the hand was removed. For a moment, the world was still.

Suddenly, a kick was delivered to her chest. It could very well have been a gentle nudge, but she now knew that all her ribs were broken, and the pain was excruciating. Reacting in a way she didn't realize she was capable of at the moment, she cried out. But what would have been an anguished scream came out as a strangled gurgle, as a line of blood spilled from her mouth when she opened it. There was no question now; Jill was dying. She couldn't remember what had happened to lead her to such an agonizing death, but now she could only hope that its coming was swift to end her suffering.

But instead, more pain shot through her as she felt her body being moved. She was lifted off of the ground, and felt her head hang back unsupported, vaguely aware of the blood drifting back down her face. The world began to sway subtly but nonetheless painfully. Someone was carrying her. To try to save her? To grant her release? To get her away from here, was all that she knew. Struggling to summon every last ounce of energy she still possessed, she managed to speak one hoarse whisper of a word before she finally passed out completely.

"Thanks."

She didn't know what lay ahead of her, but she knew anything had to be better than the pain she was in right now.

It wouldn't be long before Jill realized the folly of that conclusion.

Jill hadn't a clue as to how long she had been out, but she suspected it had been a very long time from the effort it took to simply open her eyes. It wasn't made any easier by the horrifically bright light that was aimed directly at her face. She was still lying down, and found herself dressed in a long hospital gown. Her first reaction was to sit up and find whatever doctor had miraculously treated her before she realized she had been restrained. Her wrists were cuffed in braces attached to the examining table, and her feet were trapped the same way in a single brace around both her ankles.

This was a very bad sign.

She struggled for a moment to try to pull her hands out of the braces, but she knew how handcuffs worked from her years on the force. Short of snapping the bones in her hand, there was no way she was getting out of them without some sort of lock pick, and she suspected she would need to be able to throw a punch against whoever had her bound in the first place if she were to break free. With her hands held firmly in place, she tried to pull her feet free to no avail. It wasn't the first time in her life Jill had wished she had smaller feet. She was in the middle of twisting her leg in a painful manner to try to make maneuvering easier when she heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

"Trying to escape Jill? Not even you, the master of unlocking, will be able to get out of those cuffs."

No...

The memories of what had happened before she'd found herself here quickly returned to her. She remembered they were two against one yet still utterly outmatched, fighting against inhuman reflexes with about as much success as a pair of mice have against a cat. It was an impossible battle, and in a desperate attempt to save Chris's life, Jill had flung herself against Wesker and out the window to the harrowing drop beyond.

She was frozen in place, her mind racing through what might had happened in the time since her fall, and what would happen if she remained captive here. She stared up at the ceiling away from the bright light, her breathing shallow, as she heard the deliberate footsteps make their way towards her. Before she knew it, she was staring up at a dual reflection of herself in a pair of dark sunglasses, accompanied by a cruel smirk.

"Wesker," she breathed, the disgust in her voice clearly evident. Wesker was the one who saved her. And she would bet her life it wasn't out of the good of his heart. "Why?" she asked. Though a million questions ran through her head, she didn't expect to get a solid answer for any of them.

"Revenge," he replied simply, his face a mask of stone.

Revenge against who? Jill wondered. Through she supposed it didn't matter. Wesker may have had a personal vendetta against Chris, but she knew he'd relish the opportunity to do harm to herself as well. There was no love lost between any of the ex-S.T.A.R.S. members and their traitorous captain. Wesker began drawing liquid from a glass lab bottle with a syringe.

"You're going to experiment on me." It wasn't a question, Jill already knew the answer.

"Going to?" The cruel smirk returned to his face. "My dear Jill, I already have." Jill's mouth dropped in a silent gasp at his response. Wesker chuckled softly at her horrified expression. "Yes, you've been in suspended animation for over a year, furthering my cause far more than any other subject."

"Furthering your cause? You've used me for B.O.W. research?" Jill's stomach tied into knots at the thought. She had spent years fighting bioterrorism and the creation of B.O.W.s. Knowing that she had been an instrument in their development tore her up inside.

"It was quite an accident I assure you. I originally had a simple gruesome transformation in store for you, but you've proven to be a bit more... resilient than I had originally anticipated." Tapping the air bubbles out of the syringe, he continued. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, you thwarted both me and the tyrant in your escape from the Arklay mansion facility, as well as single handedly taking out the Nemesis in your flight from an infested Raccoon City." He inspected the syringe a final time, assured that it was prepped and ready to go. "You've shown a remarkable affinity for survival, Jill."

The smile on his face unnerved her, and she looked away with a petulant glance. The only thing she wanted Wesker to compliment her on was her ability to throw him out of windows. "This," he said, presenting the syringe to regain her attention, "is P30, an advanced super-soldier serum. If it works correctly, you should gain extraordinary strength and speed... and become completely obedient." Jill hesitated, the ball of dread in her stomach tightening to the point of making her nauseous.

"If it works correctly? ...and if it doesn't?" she asked. Wesker simply shrugged.

"We've tried far more potent formulas on you, only to have your immune system brush it away as if it were nothing more than the common cold," he replied, gripping her arm and and injecting the pale pink serum. "In fact, I'd expect this to only take hold for about half an hour, if at all."

Jill refused to give him the gratification of seeing her wince from the injection, so instead she just kept her eyes trained on his sunglasses in a threatening glare. Slowly though, as the serum took hold, her face relaxed into an expressionless mask. Wary of the possibility that she could be faking, he unlocked the restraints from her hands and feet and held out his hand. She sat up, her motions a bit mechanical at first from lack of movement, then graceful as she accepted his hand and stood up. Wesker gave a pleased shake of the head.

"Nothing quite like scientific progress..." He ignored his immense gratification for a moment and thought of some arbitrary thing for her to do against her will.

"Stand on one leg."

Jill stood on one leg.

"Splendid, you may put your leg down now." Wesker said smugly. "Now for the pecking order of things. I am your supreme commander, your generalissimo, and your lord and master. You will do battle with any and all that oppose me, and will serve those I assign you to. You will remember all of this every time you are injected with P30 and will act accordingly. Do you understand?"

Jill gave a single determined nod.

"Good. Your first assignment will be to test your heightened reflexes and skills." Wesker retrieved an indigo leather garment off of a nearby table. "This is your battle suit, it's been custom fitted to your form exactly so that your movements won't be hindered." He gestured over to a gauze changing screen in the corner of the lab. "Get changed quickly so we can get started, there's no telling how long the serum will last." Handing her the suit, he turned back to the lab station and began prepping a second dose.

When he heard the sound of shuffling clothing behind him, he paused, and raised his head from his work. Keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground, he turned slightly to steal a glance at the indoctrinated woman, only to find that she had begun undressing right there in the middle of the lab instead of behind the changing screen. He regarded her cooly for a moment, until she had finished unlacing the hospital gown and stripped down to a plain black bra and panties. She set down the gown on the examining table and was reaching for the battle suit when Wesker spoke.

"Stop."

Jill turned around and stood at attention, abandoning the garment.

"Step forward."

She took two steps away from the table, standing out in the center of the room. Both stood there in silence for a moment, neither moving, until Wesker slowly walked over and began circling her.

"Hmm, interesting," he began. "It seems your newfound loyalty has also placed an unwavering trust in your commander. This could have some very useful consequences." He stopped behind her, and placed his gloved hands on her bare shoulders. "Though I can't help but delight in the irony of you exhibiting yourself to someone you so greatly despise." A small grin played upon his lips as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Are you still awake inside there Jill? Are you aware of the situation you have put yourself in entirely of your own doing?" he asked cruelly, slowly running his hands down her arms. "Is your sense of humiliation still intact?" He noticed that she was shivering ever so slightly at his touch.

"Trembling..." he muttered, the amusement in his voice clearly evident. "What could that be caused by I wonder? Anger or fear..." He dropped his hands and walked back in front of her. "Or maybe..."

"Anticipation..." He offered a suggestive quirk of the brow. "We've known each other a long time you and I. You were always such a dutiful S.T.A.R.S. member, never disrespectful of your captain. Perhaps old allegiances die hard." He returned one hand to her shoulder and resumed circling her, slowly trailing his fingers across her back. "But maybe there's something more playing through your mind here. Something you'd rather forget." Wesker let the notion hang in the air for a bit, his hand lingering at the nape of her neck.

"So Jill? Is a long tucked away fantasy of the team captain returning to you against your will? Alone together, late at night in the S.T.A.R.S. office, finding new uses for the office furniture..." Walking back in front of her, he searched her blank face for any sort of reaction.

"Or maybe you're seething with rage only held in check by the serum," he said, his amusement depleted. "It doesn't really matter does it? You're bound to my will either way." He offered the inert woman a resigned smile. "But don't worry Jill, I won't do anything unsavory to you. It would be degrading..." He began to walk away, but paused when he was beside her.

"...for me," he added, walking past her to pick up her battle suit. His stoic expression now firmly in place, he handed the outfit to her and said, "Get dressed, we have tests to run."

My first posted fic! Though certainly not my first ever written.

As usual, Resident Evil and all its characters are property of Capcom.