Chapter Text
“Chief, you got to listen to us, at least listen! We have proof, all these logs and diaries, it’s a wealth of evidence. Why won’t you look at them?!”
The sharp sound echoed around Chief Irons’ office, joined only by Chris’ labored breathing as he leaned over the mahogany desk. His hands are still not healed, Jill vaguely noted. All their wounds healed slowly, every single cut and bruise that house of horrors had demanded as payment for their presence.
There must surely be reasons for that, and she could see the same haunted, petrified look in the eyes of every one of her last companions. None of them dared to give voice to that fear.
Her last hope, their last hope, was focusing on warning the city, making sure some kind of defense could be mounted against the… things that would soon come barging down from the mountains.
“Enough about this, you two! Is it not enough your incompetence cost us your entire teams? All this bullshit, who’s going to believe you, huh, Redfield? No one, because there is no such thing as undead monsters in the woods.”
Irons laughed loudly. By her side, Chris seemed ready to deck him, and Jill would not hold him back. That man was scum, always had been. Jill made sure Rebecca, or any other female officer who needed to talk with the Chief, never went into his room alone.
There was nothing she could prove against him, but Jill had long ago learned to trust her instincts, and they always told her Chief Irons was not to be trusted.
Jill couldn’t keep quiet anymore. How blind could this fool be? There was no denying what her team had been through, the information was right there.
“Goddamnit, just read the damn reports. Do you think all four of us would lie about this? We’ve been serving in this damn station for how many years now, Irons? Stop ignoring what’s right in front of you.”
Irons looked at her in that cold, slimy way he always did. For one terrible moment, Jill felt her fingers search for the Beretta always at her side. She knew that look, empty and hungry, devoid of any sympathy or empathy, seeking only to satisfy one basic need.
The moldy, old scent coming from all the taxidermied animals around him did nothing to calm her. Their dead eyes, too, reminded her of things she wanted to forget. That sense of wrongness around the chief became harder to ignore in this room, but Jill could not tell for sure if the impression came from him, or from her own mind.
His hands bunched up all the paperwork on his desk, shoving it all into one of his drawers, before rising up and glowering at her and Chris.
“Out of my office, now. You two, and Burton and Chambers too, will stop with all this nonsense, or be suspended without pay for as long as I want it to last. Understood? Umbrella is very important for the city, your insane reports are only hurting our economy.”
It was at that moment Jill understood. At her side, Chris stiffened even further. Jill left without another word, and her friend followed.
Chris was punching walls as soon as they got down to the garage, one of the only places it felt somewhat safe to talk in the station. The cold, humid space didn’t feel as… welcoming as before the mansion, the darkness and deep silence, only cut by the occasional drip-drop of water always falling somewhere, or the distant bark of the k-9 units, set them all on edge. But it was better than fearing their colleagues listening behind doors, or calling them crazy again.
The barely healed cuts in Chris’ hands opened up again. Jill sat on a discarded tire by one of the patrol cars and put her head in her hands. Her voice was steady as she spoke, even if her chest felt empty.
“He’s one of them. Just like Wesker.”
There was a distinct crack, moments before Chris landed at her side. One or two of his fingers were broken again, probably. The same ones one of those lizard-like things - a Hunter, her mind helpfully supplied, listing all the battle information held in its file whether she wanted to remember or not - stepped on, just before Rebecca proved to be very good with a shotgun.
“Can we trust anyone here, Jill? Who else is on their pocket? The mayor, the doctors at the hospital? You saw how some of them reacted to us.”
She had been so out of it when they finally got some help, but if there was one thing Jill remembered about the hospital, it was the way a few of the doctors had looked at her, fascinated, asking very precise questions about what had caused her injuries, for how long she managed to stay standing after getting three broken ribs, what she used for the pain.
They took so many blood samples, poking at every cut, speaking quietly when they thought sedation had taken her out. Wondering about natural resistance, a certain level of immunity… if her body had been under her own control, Jill would have killed those people with her bare hands. But she wasn’t, and there was no record of doctors who matched her vague recollection when she checked later, of course.
“Ourselves. We can trust each other, and Barry and Rebecca. This city needs help.”
His shoulder brushed against her own, leaned on hers. Jill held still, trying to lent him whatever strength might still be hiding somewhere in her. An idea struck her.
“Maybe the journals. Not the big ones, but remember that angry lady who got into trouble over snooping around last month?”
Chris rubbed his hand, wincing.
“The blonde angry lady?”
“Yeah, what if we got some word out through her? It won’t be as good as if Irons had one decent bone in his body and decided to protect the civilians, but that way, some can at least be aware.”
And have time to escape what’s coming.
“It’s something, at least. Can you get her contact? We don’t have the originals of anything anymore,” his voice broke, tears of impotent anger making his eyes water.
Jill clenched her hands hard enough to draw blood, and tried not to think about Irons burning everything they had saved from the mansion right at this moment.
“But we can talk. That’s gotta count for something.”
She hoped it would.
The next day STARS was disbanded, and Jill understood how alone they truly were when not one person in the precinct looked her in the eye as they turned her away.