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Resident Evil: Project Venus	By : Carlos_Danger Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 7596 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction that is made for free and free to use. I own no rights to any part of the Resident Evil works. Any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.

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Dark... Warm... Wet... Suspended in stillness... In the black

Jill kicked her legs. Slowly. Awkwardly. They felt miles away from her.
From somewhere out in the inky void, a voice called. Beginning as a whisper, it soon swelled to a deafening roar, becoming the first thought in her mind.
"Don't breathe."
Jill realized then where she was. Below the helicopter. Beneath the waves. ...Drowning.
Sand... She could feel sand at her fingertips.
She turned her body, floating around to find the moon refracting off the surface of the water. Her vision fading fast, she gathered her strength, turned upright in the water, and kicked off of the sandy bottom.
The light drew closer.
She floated slowly upward through the warm tropical waters. So softly. It was astonishingly comfortable. ...Even pleasant. ...So serene. ...And so slow.
The voice filled her head again.
"Fight!"
A surge of power shot through every muscle in her body; aching, burning, driving her forward like the whip of a cruel slaver.
Jill thrashed her legs. She pulled at the water, clawing, dragging herself inch by inch toward the surface, toward life. Her heart pounded so hard and fast that it threatened to burst in her chest. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't fail them. It wasn't just for her. It was for Rebecca, for Claire, for Ashley ... For everyone. She had to live. She would live.
Sweet air filled her lungs as she breached above the waves. Jill coughed and heaved, spitting out half the Pacific and gasping for breath. But as relieved as she was to breathe again, there was no break from her fight while she was still in the water. Struggling just to stay afloat in her boots and tac gear, she had to get to shore.
As she made her way toward the beach, things began to get a little easier. She had more strength, the burning was subsiding and the sight of land so close to her reach renewed her spirit. Dragging her heavy, waterlogged, boots, she trudged through the surf and onto the sand, collapsing to her hands and knees.
She'd made it.
She had never been one to panic when things got heated, but for a moment...
It didn't matter. Catching enough of her breath, she rolled over and sat down, scooting back under a clump of tropical brush to conceal herself. The mission was coming back into focus.
If Claire and Rebecca were still alive, she would have to find them first. They could be hurt and in danger. Though for that matter, so could she. Reflexively reaching for her rifle, her fingers grasped empty air. Her muscles tensed. A pang of fear gripped her stomach. Quickly bringing her hand to her thigh, she breathed a sigh of relief to find that she still had her sidearm.
Jill looked over the beach, but she couldn't see her rifle. She couldn't see much of anything with blood dripping in her eyes.
Before she could help anyone else, she would have to help herself. Beneath the relative safety of the brush, she looked herself over, checking for signs of injury.
It wasn't terrible. She'd seen worse. But she'd also seen a lot better. Most of the damage was only superficial; a cut above her right brow and some minor burns on her arm. But the blast that tore apart the helicopter had lodged a four-inch chunk of shrapnel in her vest. While the hunk of metal didn't make it far past the kevlar, she didn't have the equipment to deal with it, Rebecca did.
Slowly, carefully, she peeled back her vest, wincing as she pulled two inches of mangled steel from her ribcage along with it. She tossed the ruined kit aside and took a closer look at the seeping puncture. It had passed through her ribs and around her lung. Despite what had happened, Jill knew she was very lucky. The wound needed to be sealed, but for now, she could manage the bleeding.
Tearing off the bottom half of her blue shirt, she quickly fashioned a wrap to hold pressure on the wound. It was far from an ideal fix, but it would do for now.
The moment she finished, she reached for her comlink, thankful to find it was still there. She wanted to contact Claire and Rebecca first, but she knew the priorities.
Jill opened a channel with HQ.
Hannigan glowed to life on the screen. Jill was relieved to see a friendly face, even if it was only pixels.
Despite Hannigan's unfailing professional facade, she was briefly paused by Jill's unexpected rough appearance.
"Agent Valentine, how can I assist you?'
"We're down. We got hit by a SAM before we could reach the insertion point. I was thrown out, but ...I don't know if the others are alive."
"Okay, Jill. We're still with you. I have vital signs on Agents Redfield and Chambers. They seem to be out of communication at the moment, but we have a satellite fixed over your position. I'm viewing their location now. ... And they appear to have landed largely intact."
Jill felt ten tons drop from her chest.
"Then we still have a shot at this. I'll rendevous with them there."
"Negative. Your orders are to proceed to the manor and carry on the mission. I'll continue to try their channels in the meantime."
Jill knew the protocol. And it was in place for good reasons. But the island was a limited area, and Hannigan knew exactly where they were.
"Fifteen minutes, Hannigan."
"This is not a request, Agent Valentine. Agents Redfield and Chambers are still alive. I know you don't doubt their capability, so you need to trust them to take care of themselves."
She was right.
But seeing the fear in Rebecca's eyes as the missile closed in, Jill felt as if she had failed her. Nothing was ever fully in control, especially in combat. It's always a calculated risk. Though to have such a promising life in her charge end so early... She didn't want to think about it. And she knew she shouldn't be thinking about it.
She pushed the thought into the back of her mind. They were still alive. Nothing had changed. It was just like any other mission.
"Understood. I'm heading out now."
.....
Jill found the island was very easy to navigate. Most of the area was covered in rows of palms, cleared of brush beneath. It wasn't the best terrain for remaining hidden, but she could move quickly and with certainty.
She stalked through the trees, never straying too far from the concealment of the unkept brush. Despite the calm quiet of the night, she knew there had to be people somewhere nearby. A plantation that size didn't run itself. It would take several dozen workers to keep it in such high maintenance, and likely more.
It wasn't long before she found some of them. Jill stalked up and crouched low behind the rough trunk of a palm. A hundred meters ahead, several men sat gathered around an open fire, cooking what appeared to be lumps of meat on sticks.
A waft of burnt hair carried with the scent of roasting flesh.
Moving a little closer, she could hear low voices, indistinct and in short speech. She listened carefully, trying to make out what they were saying. As she watched and listened, one of the men skewered another lump of meat and held it into the fire.
The meat fought back, wriggling, thrashing, and squealing.
Rats... They were roasting whole, live, rats.
Jill's stomach churned as one of them pulled their stick out of the fire and crunched into a partially-seared rodent. He gnawed and slurped as the tortured animal gushed blood, still twitching as it was being consumed.
What the fuck!? People ate some weird things in the region, but not this. And definitely not on an island with so much money tied up in it.
Jill eased closer, sticking to the shadows as she approached. She needed to get close enough to hear what they were saying. Close enough to see exactly who they were.
But the moment she did, she almost wished she hadn't. In the warm tropic night, Jill froze to her bones.
They shouldn't have been alive. Their skin was pale and covered in dark veins. Countless open lesions oozed brown pus, crawling with flies and maggots. Grey, crusted eyes, moved and saw, but there was nothing behind them. They were barely able to speak, guttural and animalistic, grunting in brief outbursts interlaced with bits of broken English.
The men were walking vessels of disease. It was some kind of virus or parasite, something new. Ellis was known to have ties to illegal biological research projects, enough so that he was black-listed by the government while he was alive. Enough so that they felt the need to put the information in her brief. If the rumors were true, these men were likely test subjects.
Despite their horrifying appearance, she felt a swell of pity. Whatever had happened to them, it had driven them insane. And as much as she would have wanted, she couldn't rescue a group of insane men infected with unknown pathogens. Not even if she had her team. They were beyond her help and probably beyond any help. There was nothing to be done except report the findings back to HQ.
Jill carefully backed away from the fire and moved up the slope, putting a few hundred yards back between her and the damned men. Crouching low in the darkness, she opened her comlink.
Hannigan appeared again, cool and calm as always.
"Go ahead, Agent Valentine."
"I came across a group of men in the palm groves. I don't think they're combatants, but they appear to be infected with something. ... I've never seen anything like it."
"... Please describe them."
"Sickly. Pale. Covered in sores. Severe mental impairment. They look like they're rotting on their feet, but they don't seem to notice."
Hannigan blazed through her control console.
"... Okay, Jill. You need to stay away from any infected individuals and do not alert them to your presence. You are cleared to engage them as armed combatants if necessary."
Jill paused.
"They weren't armed."
Hannigan quickly considered something as she accessed unknown channels of information.
"There is a high probability that the individuals have been infected with a known biological agent. While it isn't airborne, you need to keep your distance and avoid contact with bodily fluids. They may be highly contagious and extremely violent. Reports describe behavior similar to rabies, accompanied by polyphagia and even cannibalism."
Jill swallowed the lump in her throat. They hadn't prepared for a biological event. Between the botched insertion and the unfolding situation, she was starting to wonder if they had a chance. She couldn't do it all alone and she still hadn't heard from Claire or Rebecca.
Sensing her concern, Hannigan broke in again.
"I do have some good news though. I've contacted Agents Redfield and Chambers. Both are doing well and will be en route to the manor shortly."
Jill breathed free for the first time since she hit the water. They were alive and still in the fight. It was all she needed to hear.
It felt a little callous, but she wasn't going to ask about the flight crew. It wasn't mission-critical and Hannigan didn't say, so it probably wasn't all good news.
"I'll be waiting ."
She shut off the comlink and went back into the dark. More than anything, she wanted to contact Rebecca and Claire, but she wouldn't be doing them any favors if it gave away their position. She didn't know how many eyes and ears were lurking out there.
As her eyes readjusted, she scanned around for a subtle path to the manor. There was a narrow game trail leading up the hill.
She began the steep climb, moving slowly through the surrounding brush, careful not to disturb it. As she crawled, she checked every shadow in front of her, being sure that she didn't put her hand down near a hidden viper. After being shot at so many times, it could be easy to forget there were other things that could kill.
The climb was long and silent. But before she made it halfway up, the chilling grunts of the infected sounded behind her. Along a small road near the trail, the glow of torches approached with the beating of hurried footsteps.
Jill stiffened as gunshots sounded in the distance.
It came from farther up the hill, on the other side of the island. She knew immediately who it was. The sound of Claire's rifle had become as familiar as her voice.
She wanted to stand up and run, but the men were too close and getting closer. But they were also moving in Claire's direction. She needed to draw them away.
Jill crawled back to the thickest part of the brush and laid low. As the sound of gunfire continued, the diseased men sprinted past her, moving with surprising speed for their deathly condition. When they had gone far enough, she stood up and ran to the road. On reaching it, she broke into a sprint, quickly putting ground between her and the group.
With nobody else near, she drew her pistol and fired a round into the air.
The light moving up the hill came to a stop. As Jill watched from the shadows, it shifted and started back down.
They were moving away from Claire now. That was the important part.
Jill took off through the brush and back into the groves.
If they were focused on Claire, maybe the others would be too. Though it worried her, she could still use it to her advantage. She could cover more ground. They'd all be safer if they could rendezvous sooner rather than later.
Jill noticed that Caire wasn't firing anymore. And her shots hadn't sounded rushed, so she was probably on the move again, whatever threat she met now dead in her wake.
But her own shot had called more attention than she had realized. While she had left the first group behind, from deeper in the gove, more torches were drawing in. She hoped she had at least helped her team, as she was beginning to regret her improvised plan.
Faster. She had to move faster. Her legs pumped in a blur, finding a clean stride along the palm row. As she gained ground, most of the lights began to merge behind her, converging on her shot rather than her. But farther ahead, another cluster was descending in her direction, set to intersect.
Artificially straight lines of shadow caught her eye. In a tiny clearing, there was a little shack, not much larger than a tool shed.
It was the last place she wanted to be trapped, but there wasn't much choice. She couldn't be sure that she had enough ammo to quickly get through the group ahead and she definitely didn't have enough to take on the mob if the fight slowed her down. It was going to have to be the shack.
As Jill ducked through the beaten wood door and into the crooked aluminum shed, she swept her weapon level over the room.
It was empty, nothing more than an assortment of harvesting tools and baskets. No freaks with torches. But nowhere to hide either. Jill felt a sharp pang of dread. If they found her here, there would be no easy way out.
Through gaps in the siding, she could see individual torches. She pressed her face close, looking out to assess the enemy.
Four... Five... Six... Six of them. They held their torches out, scanning the grove with cold, dead, eyes. It was a sight ripped straight from a nightmare.
But it was only six, she reminded herself. She still had 17 rounds. More than enough. Though if she used even one, it would put her back on the run.
Gunfire sounded again. From inside the metal shack, she couldn't tell who or where it came from, but there was nothing she could do at the moment anyway. She'd just have to wait it out and hope her team was okay.
She crouched silently, watching as they combed through the trees, growling, and cursing, using more of their primal language than before. From the way she had come, the lights began to disperse, heading out across the island again. But the group nearest her continued to search.
"*GUURHG* FIND THE BITCH!", one of them groaned.
"I SMELL HER", another called back, too close to the shed.
She knew what was coming. It was only a matter of time. They weren't clever, but sooner or later they would find her. She only hoped they would take a little longer, giving her a clear escape once it was finished.
Torchlight circled around the side of the shack, coming to a stop in front of the door. Slowly, quietly, Jill stepped back by the hinges, drawing her knife.
The door creaked open. Fire passed by her, followed closely by the pale, pocked, face of her hunter. His muddy clothes hung like rags, stained with blood, shit and she didn't want to know what else. She could smell his breath, filled with sickening rot.
Jill raised her kife.
In one swift motion, she lunged forward, passing her blade smoothly over the first vertebra and sinking it deep into his brain. It was instant death. Jill pulled her knife out and bent forward, prepared to catch the crumpling body before it made a sound.
But it didn't crumple.
Jill froze in place. A gargling groan bubbled crimson velvet from his throat. He staggered, choking on his own blood as he slowly turned. As his enraged, hollow, eyes met with hers, he reached out a gnarled hand. Jill's training immediately took over. She buried her knife in his neck, sawing and shoving him back as he clawed her chest. She pushed with everything she had, twisting the knife and driving it up his throat and through the roof of his mouth.
The plagued man's eyes rolled back, his arms flailing, grasping at air. His head turned and jerked in spasms. As his legs collapsed beneath him, he fell in a heap at her feet, limbs still twitching.
Jill stared down with wide eyes, her heart racing.
She hadn't missed the first time. There was no way anybody could have survived that. It wasn't natural. It wasn't even possible.
"THERE!", a thick voice sounded outside.
Footsteps rushed toward her.
She backed away from the door, sheathing her knife and drawing her pistol. Her hands were shaking. In all her years of combat, her hands never shook. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.
A wave of bodies burst through the door, tumbling into the shed. As they straightened themselves from the rush, their unliving eyes fixed on Jill.
She aimed at the center of the group and fired.
The first round struck the nearest infected in the sternum. He jerked back with a groan but immediately recovered. Only enraged by the shot, the fiend charged straight at her. Jill fired again, barely slowing him. Just before he reached her, she swiftly sidestepped, firing three more rounds point-blank into his skull. He dropped in stride, crashing limp into the wall.
With two down, she turned to level her pistol on the third. But it was too late.
A wall of rancid flesh slammed into her, knocking her off her feet and throwing her into the air. She hit the back wall of the shed, rattling it like thunder and knocking the wind from her lungs. The room flashed white.
Her vision spun. She had to fight, she knew, but she couldn't stand. She couldn't raise from her back. She couldn't reach her pistol. They were on top of her, kneeling on her, pinning her arms to the ground. Jill, jerked and pulled, twisting and thrashing beneath them, but they were too strong.
She could feel their sickly breath on her neck. The stench of death filled her nostrils. Inches in front of her face, the plagued wretches grunted and growled, snapping their teeth like rabid animals. She whimpered as they leaned in close, sniffing deeply of her body. Glistening strands of fetid drool dripped from their black mouths, falling in globs on her skin.
Dread coursed through her veins.
This was it. This was how she was going to die. Torn apart and eaten alive, bloody and screaming like the rats.
Jill pressed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.
She hoped Rebecca and Claire were safe.
Hands began to tear. In an instant, they grabbed her shirt, shredding it to pieces. As her bra came away with it, a clammy face pressed against her, its teeth at breast. Powerful fingers unfastened her belt. She instinctively kicked against them with all her strength, but her legs were overpowered. They held her feet tight together, and with a sharp yank, pulled her pants down to her ankles.
Except for her thin, black, thong, she was naked above her knees. The hands groped at her body, squeezing and pulling as if inspecting the quality of their diner.
Facing the worst death she could imagine, now she felt as if she was being raped as well. She wished they would just end it.
Her attention snapped away at the sudden sound of a zipper jerking open.
Jill opened her eyes, and as she did, her heart stopped cold.
As three held her down, the fourth and largest of them dropped his pants. Jill's eyes went wide as they fell on the sickening organ that protruded from between his legs. The brute's massive cock stood stiff and twitching, black veins pulsing beneath cadaver skin. Seeping pustules and crusted sores covered the horrifying length.
Her mind locked shut in denial.
"no...", her breathless voice began, quickly rising to a frantic scream. "No! NO!"
He bent down and grabbed her thrashing legs. Jill pushed against him with everything she had, screaming in effort, feeling her own muscles tearing. But he effortlessly forced her legs down to the ground behind her head. He hooked her pants around her neck and pressed her hips into the dirt. Jill shrieked as he ripped off her thong.
"Hurry up", groaned the one keeling on her right arm. "I'm next."
Taking his infected cock in hand, the big Ganado aligned himself with her bald cunt and leaned over her.
"NO!", she shrieked, still hopelessly fighting to pull away. "I'll fucking kill you for this you piece of shit!"
But as he drew back his hips, words failed her. Tears clouded her vision. Her breath shook. Shame crept into her horror as she felt her pussy relax and flow wet, giving itself up to the inevitable.
Blinding crimson light filled the room.
Jill stared frozen, hyperventilating, trying to make sense of what was happening. Everything around her seemed to stand still, bathed in an otherworldly glow.
The big one let go of his cock, turning his attention to the door. Suddenly, the brute lept to his feet, letting out a bellowing moan.
"Fire! Stomp it!"
At his order, one of the mongrels stood up and ran outside. But the moment he crossed the doorway, he stopped. He just stood there, wobbling in place. With her eyes adjusting to the red glow, Jill noticed dark fluid running out of the back of his head.
He collapsed motionless in the dirt.
In an instant, hope rekindled inside her, bright as the crimson flame. Though the brainless brutes didn't realize, she knew... Claire and Rebecca had come.
His mottled face twisting in confusion, the big one stood. He shambled over to his fallen comrade, giving him a firm kick in the ribs. As he reared back for another, the back of his head burst in a flash of gore.
For a moment, there was stillness again. Then the fiend on her right arm jumped up, growling as he rushed the door.
Jill didn't need another chance.
Before the one on her left could react, her hand snapped out, finding her pistol and putting two through his eyes. She turned away from the spray and ripped her hand from underneath him. At the sound of the shots, the remaining plagued wretch turned back. Jill sat up and leveled her sights. He met his end mid-step, the remnants of his head forming a bloody halo above the door.
Her gun still trained on the empty doorway, Jill sat naked in the dirt, wide-eyed and panting.
Her mind reeled, struggling for anything to grasp. Nothing felt real. It was like she was emerging from a nightmare, trapped between the waking world and a horrible hallucination. Did it really happen? Were they really dead? What the fuck were those things? ... And where were the rest of them?
Remembering how many others had been behind her, she sprang to her feet and hurried toward the door. She immediately tripped and fell. Her pants were still around her ankles. Jill stumbled as she pulled them up, still moving toward the door. Looking outside, she couldn't see any more torches, though she couldn't see anything beyond the glaring light of a red flare burning in the center of a pile of palm leaves.
She didn't see Claire or Rebecca either.
It didn't make any sense. None of it made any sense. Jill wondered if she was losing her mind. Maybe she never woke up from the helicopter.
She holstered her weapon and placed her hands to her face, drawing them down her neck, body, and to the wound at her side. The pain felt real enough.
As she looked down at the wound, a glint in the sand caught her eye. A strange piece of metal gleamed in the firelight. She bent down and picked it up.
It was a key. And not a normal key. The polished silver shone fiery shades in the flowing crevices of its intricate design. As she inspected it more closely, she could see a thin electronic strip on the side of the shaft.
She had no idea what it could be for. Or who had left it. But she knew it must be important. And whoever had left it, she could only hope that she would live long enough to thank them.
The cool breeze on her exposed skin reminded her that she was standing out in the open. She was more vulnerable than ever and the little ammo she had was nearly spent.
Jill hurried back into the shed, quickly stepping over the bodies, still not entirely certain they were dead. Reaching down for her bra, she realized it had been ripped so that she couldn't fasten it. She dropped it back to the ground, feeling more of a sting than she thought she should. It was only cloth. But when she picked up her shirt, her heart sank. It was destroyed. She turned it over and around, trying to find a way, but it was useless.
Her posture sunk. Tears crept back into her eyes.
She was going to have to carry on with the mission. Alone. With eight rounds and her fucking tits out on an island full of contagious, weaponized, rapists. She felt like she'd be better off shooting herself now rather than facing what waited for her outside. If she went out there again and got caught by the mob... What would even happen to her if she survived? Would she end up like them?
She couldn't stomach thinking about it. And she knew it wouldn't help her to linger on it.
Jill straightened herself and wiped away her tears.
It wasn't about her. It was about her team. It was about the young woman up in the manor, with no hope left but her. Maybe she couldn't face what the animals would do to her, but she was still prepared to face death one more time. And as long as she still had one round, she controlled how it ended. If she failed, she would die a soldier.
She brushed her fingers over the grip of her pistol, finding reassurance in the steel.
The only way out was in.
Gathering her courage, Jill stepped out of the shack, back into the shadow of the grove, and headed toward the manor.
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Resident Evil: Project Venus