Fic Snip (On a Devil's Wings – 20 The Illucid Dream)
As she thought she caught up to him, she found herself watching Irving do one of his deals with a small time warlord. There was an unspoken rule about engagement between them. Irving would freely ogle her openly, but wouldn't dare touch her – she was ‘programmed’ for self-preservation. No suicide watch was needed for a kept doll that can’t – the sleazy man had learned this by watching one of their ‘investors’ limp away with a dislocated jaw. The only ones that were allowed to by virtue of experimentation were Wesker and Excella. No touching was an unspoken rule for anyone else, but Ricardo sure thought it with his leering eyes.
A trade right now was being done and she kept an ever-vigilant watch. It wasn’t going well, the haggling going on droning on between the seedy man and the larger rough trade that stood in opposition to him.
And then, Jill felt it again. That boiling angry dark rage at just blankly seeing these people, watching helplessly as these people just trade and haggle over these things like it was a swap meet just trading away lives, buying death. In her rising anger, her vision goes red and somewhere in that justified cloud she feels euphoria, a maddening sense of freedom, and somewhere in that red haze, she could see Irving looking at her in awe.
A second after that thought, she saw the warlord twitching in her hands, her gloves not hiding the sensation of his pulse racing under her and she grinned a feral hungry grin as she pushed his eyes in, then with her own two hands tore his head off from the stalk. Blood and meat and other viscera coated the ground and her, and her blood sang. And then he robs her of that small mindless victory.
Wesker walked in view, clapping as he was impressed. Knowing the P30 was running low, he wanted to observe the effects of withdrawal; science was always on his mind after all. She felt her body shake and longed to rip out his throat it so close so near. And then he whispered in her ear, ‘Now, didn’t that feel good? All that tensing and coiling being let out. Aren’t I generous to let you relax, Dear Heart?’ She shivered feeling a powerful, wild feeling that had nothing to do with saving or being responsible for lives or anything…just being. Just wanting to, being allowed to react in a direct way and it felt good. It was good.
Albert smiles, knowing just what this little inkling of freedom would do for her, the pure euphoric joy well before her conscience would revisit it - to yank it all away coolly stating, ‘Present.’ And she did and she became a statue again but painted in a quickly drying sheen of rusty red that shifted to brown. Irving looked at the both of them warily before quickly rifling the pockets of the warlord, silently counting the money the dead man had. It was more efficient to just take the product and the money if a deal was going south, anyway.
Irving never leered at her again after that.
(continue reading On a Devil's Wings on Ao3)
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