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Assistant: Title: Dulce et decorum est
        Author: LadySirana LadySirana 
        Chapter: 24/162 
        Summary: It has only been a few weeks since Spencer Manor, and Chris is back in Raccoon City. He doesn't know if he’s seeking justice or revenge, but he doesn’t care. Blood will flow and he’ll be the one to spill it.Jill is afraid Umbrella has something terrible in store for them, and she wants nothing more than to get her remaining friends to safety.Leon should be happy, he is the best cadet to graduate from the Police Academy, but he is miserable. However, he still has hope, since he’s going to start his life anew. A hope that is a fading flame.Carlos is a ray of sunshine, he strives to be because no matter what life brings you, there’s always a reason to smile and be kind to others. He just wants to bring joy, hiding his sadness.Nicholai is the scum of the earth and he feels no shame. When the world wants nothing more than to drown you in sh@t, whoring yourself up to the top is the most suitable solution. Anything has a price tag until your conscience knocks on your door like an unwelcome, rotten guest.In a Raccoon City doomed to destruction, they’ll have to find a way to survive. Will they do it together or will they stab each other in the back?
        Contents: Chapter 24
    

    


      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
    
  Jill turned to look at Carlos and was surprised to see him sitting in the corner with his knees clutched to his chest. There was definitely something wrong with him. Up to that point she had always seen him as very swaggering, even when he had first faced that zombie little girl and then the Nemesis, he had always managed to hide his dismay behind a cocky smile and a few jokes. It was so unlike him to be so scared and tense. She looked at him better and, for the first time, Carlos seemed so young all of a sudden. At first glance it had appeared to her he was about Chris's age, maybe even a year or two older, but now she wasn't so sure, because he looked like a scared little boy.

  She went back to sit on the only cot in the cell.

  "A penny for your thoughts," she encouraged him.

  Carlos laughed, but his was a short, nervous chuckle. "Believe me, that would be a really bad deal."

  "Maybe, but I'm still interested in them. You don't have to act all tough, we're becoming friends, aren't we? "

  Carlos's eyes recovered a little glow at the word 'friends'. "It's not that," he admitted, then, with a sigh. "I'm not a tough guy and, if it were up to me, I would never touch a weapon again for the rest of my life. Being locked in a cell brings back bad memories, that's all and I'm trying to keep my 
  
    mierda 
  
  together."

  "Such as?" She pressed him, in a soft, almost motherly tone.

  He clenched his hands until his knuckles whitened and he was shaken by a tremor.

  "When my platoon was captured, they locked us all in cages half as big, maybe a quarter as this one, like animals. Then they started torturing us, one by one, first the girls, who fared worse than everyone else, and were killed rather quickly." He clearly remembered their screams as they were raped by those who were supposed to be guardians of law and order. "Then us, one after the other. They beat us, starved us, didn't let us sleep, and gave us rotten water to drink that slowly poisoned us, hoping thus to break us down and make us confess the position of other comrades. I watched my lifelong friends die of starvation, gangrene, or dysentery, their bodies decomposing in the cages next to mine. The stench, the flyes… I don't know how I managed to survive so long, and then, they abandoned me among their bodies, delaying my execution in the hope of gettin' me to talk, leaving me with the anguish I could've been shot at any given moment. I... I'm sorry. I haven't found myself locked up anywhere since, I didn't know it would plague me so much." He concluded in the low, hoarse voice of a man on the verge of tears. But then he took a deep breath and blinked, chasing away the tears and straining to smile. "But it's no big deal," he minimized, "I just have to get used to it."

  Jill, left speechless, continued to stare at him for a long moment and realized that, probably, if she had been in Nicholai's place, she too would have killed all those sons of b@tch@s with her own hands, because what they had done to Carlos and his friends was as inhumane and monstrous as what Umbrella was doing. Suddenly she reached him and knelt in front of him, creeping between his legs to hug him tightly.

  Carlos let a giggle escape. "Hey, this is nice!" He commented, holding her close to him, "thank you."

  "Don't get used to it," Jill snorted, "I'm not a hugger." And it was true, she wasn't, so why had she done it? Which of the two needed a hug? 

  The truth was that she needed a break, a moment of stillness to gather her thoughts. She was aware that she had done so many things wrong in the past months, like leaving Chris alone in Raccoon. 

  She didn't even know why. 

  The little story she had told herself implied that she had done it for his safety, while she, more cautious and better suited to espionage, would gather all the information she could in Europe to nail Umbrella. 

  Yet things were not exactly like that. 

  She had sincerely believed at Spencer Manor that she would never see Chris again, and although the fact that they had both made it out alive was, surely, something to be happy about, at the same time this bond she felt she had with him had scared her to death. She was frightened by her feelings for him. She would not have been as alarmed should it have been just the desire to f@ck him. No, it was the fact that she actively felt something beyond mere l@st that had made her feel caged.

  And now she also felt guilty, because she had been a fool. Leaving him alone had caused Chris to fall further and further into a spiral of hatred and vindictiveness, and, as if that were not bad enough, that feeling that clenched the pit of her stomach was still there. It had not gone away at all, and it did not seem intent on doing so. She also knew she could not place all the blame on herself, because she was aware that she was human herself, but she was determined to tie up that loose end with Chris once and for all. Whether it went well or badly, she had to put a stop to it: become his woman, or, hopefully, be lucky enough to be able to remain his friend.

  That hug with Carlos, however, was making her feel good, and, all things considered, Jill felt there was no harm in giving and receiving some innocent comfort. 

  She closed her eyes, abandoning the unharmed side of her face against Carlos's collarbone, inhaling sharply. Beneath a barely perceptible scent of sweat, he smelled good, and he certainly had much better taste in perfume than Chris did, because Carlos was vain. He knew he was a good-looking guy, and he tried to make it shine to impress, while Chris, in that sense, seemed to live on the clouds, and, not only did he not valorize himself in the slightest, but he didn't seem to give a d@mn about it at all. 

  
    F@ck... 
  
  How had she ended up in the arms of a stranger? An Umbrella soldier, no less. 

  Life was strange. 

  In his defense, Carlos seemed to be more than just a blowhard. He had a big heart and was very passionate, so much so that he appeared, at times, as candid as a child. Was that why Nicholai had taken him under his wing, although he did his best to mask that protective instinct behind his unbearable expressions of stoic-affected intolerance? Perhaps. After all, she was realizing it herself, how d@mn hard it was not to get attached to Carlos. 

  He really was like a puppy, and no one ever says no to a puppy.

  "Then I'll preserve it in my memory as the most cherished of treasures," Carlos whispered to her, dropping his fluffy, curly head against her shoulder, making her feel uncomfortable because as much as it was one of his usual lame pick-up phrases, this time it had made her heart flutter a little. She could almost hear Nicholai chuckling, wickedly, in the back of her mind, because she was being fooled like a twelve-year-old girl by a few sweet words and a pair of darling dark eyes. She couldn't help but wonder how that piece of sh@t was doing, because Nicholai was also an interesting riddle. Fascinating, in a way, although she by no means shared all of Carlos's high hopes for him. Surely, he would have mocked her for her softness in that circumstance with his deep, Russian voice, and he would also have been right because, with all that was going on, she could not allow herself such a distraction.

  She was calling herself stupid when Carlos's posture stiffened in her arms and his hold became protective. "I won't let that @ssh@l@ touch you again, no matter what," he assured her, and he meant it. He was even ready to get himself killed to prevent it. He had been unable to do anything to save his friends in Colombia, and although Jill was only an acquaintance, he was determined that nothing bad would happen to her. Perhaps, that way, he would feel less guilty about not being able to help them.

  Jill loosened the hug and sat down across from him with an expression that was both annoyed and tenderhearted at the same time.

  "I am not a damsel in distress to be rescued," she retorted, giving him a piercing look.

  "As the chorus of this town sings: I don't give a sh@t. I will regardless, and you're right, you're not a damsel, you're a 
  
    princesa!"
  

  "F@ck you!" She hissed, playfully but nonetheless upset.

  "You don't like being called that?" Carlos asked her, perceptively.

  She huffed, lowering her gaze.

  "My father used to," she admitted, reluctantly.

  "Is he-

  "No. Or rather, I don't think so. I cut ties with my parents as soon as I turned eighteen. Let's just say they didn't take it very well that I got tired of being their perfect little baby doll. F@ck@ng control freaks. They would have wanted me to attend a distinguished university, but not a faculty that was too useful. Oh, no, because, at the end of the day, what they really wanted me to do was to marry my father's slimy invertebrate partner's son, churn out a few brats, and be a good little housewife. The degree would only serve to maintain social status and gather dust hanging on a wall because beware of debasing the jerk they wanted to marry me off to. They even organized a nice party with all their snobbish friends where the moron was supposed to ask for my hand. They took it for granted that I’d go with the flow without a peep. Rather I would have hung myself in the toilet, but I went to the party, only I did it with my head shaved clean. I really put on a good show, then I took Kujo and f@ck@ng left. I enlisted the next day, then, a few years ago, my captain notified me that there was a position open here in Raccoon and that Wesker, a highly decorated ex-commie of his, was looking for someone with my resume, and I was also looking for something new. So, no, by your norm and rule, I'm nobody's f@ck@ng princess."

  "Mmmh," Carlos mumbled, "I'll stop if you want, but that's not what I meant by it," he objected. "It's a way of showing respect and being nice. I certainly don't want you to act like a little doll, in fact, I would much rather be bossed around by you. It is much better to follow you than Mikhail."

  "Is that a veiled appreciation of my ass?" She inquired, arching an eyebrow.

  Carlos laughed. "It was an appreciation of your person, but, for what it's worth, I must respectfully admit that you have a better ass than Mikhail, too."

  
    "Respectfully,
  
   of course," she echoed him, trying to show herself annoyed by his brazenness, but it actually flattered her. Just a little.

  "So? What's the plan now?" Carlos decided to change the subject.

  "We wait for Marvin to find a way to get us out of here. In the meantime, it's your turn to get some sleep."

  Carlos cast an alarmed and suspicious glance at the bars and shook his head. "No way," he sentenced.

  "Irons will do nothing for the time being. He's a cowardly p@ssy and half the police station saw us being arrested. Rotten as he is, not everyone here is on his payroll, he has to let the dust settle before he can actually do anything," she reassured him. "Come on, you don't want to miss out on the amenities Raccoon City has to offer, do you?" She joked, leaning back to give some flaps on that awful cot.

  "Holy sh@t! I don't know what a luxury hotel is like, I could never afford one, but I bet that's what it's like!" He retorted, sarcastic.

  "You mock it, but I once caught Barry sleeping here," Jill giggled. "He's another S.T.A.R.S. colleague," she explained, in the face of his mute question. "He had a fight with Kathy, his wife because he forgot their anniversary or her birthday, something like that. He was too afraid to go home, but the bunks for the night shift were all occupied, so he took a cell. Chris even pretended to grill him to get a confession out of him, making all the other poor people under arrest sh@t themselves. They put on a full-scale act. God, those two clowns were naughty together. Sometimes Wesker would split them up, just like you do with brats in school."

  "This Barry-I mean, is he ok?" Carlos asked her.

  "Yeah, he's safe with his family, but that knucklehead Chris is p@ss@d at him. They haven't spoken for months, despite Barry's good intentions."

  "That's really sad..."

  Jill sighed. "It's not that I don't understand Chris's motives. He's right to be upset, but, I don't know, after all that's happened at the mansion, why fuss about it? I know he misses Barry and he's also a positive influence on him."

  "Would you mind explaining what exactly happened? I understand there was a mission where you and your pals found out about Umbrella and this guy Wesker, your captain, betrayed you. Does Barry have anything to do with this Wesker?"

  Jill sighed. "Kinda. That's a pretty long story."

  "Well, do you have anything better to do?" He joked, pointing to the bars with a nod.

  "Oh, yeah, the hairdresser at five but I guess I'll skip it, too bad," she giggled. "I'll tell you about it if you lie down."

  "If you want to get me laid, it will take much less eff-ouch! No! I was just kidding! I'm sorry! I surrender!" Carlos exclaimed, laughing and shielding himself from a well-deserved slap with his forearm.

  "Blowhard," she hissed, but was actually amused.

  "Okay, okay, you win," he huffed, getting up and sitting on the cot. "Happy now?"

  "Almost. Down," she intimated to him, peremptorily.

  "I obey, 
  
    su Majestad!"
  
   He teased her, lying on his side to keep looking at her. Jill was really something, and it wasn't just her looks that attracted him. Sure, she was really hot, even at that moment, despite her swollen face and disheveled hair, but it was her character that blew his mind. He was a sucker for bossy women. He wondered if he would ever have a chance with her. Probably not with grumpy mama-bear Chris in the way. Bummer… 

  He listened carefully to her account of what had happened at Villa Spencer; about how Barry, blackmailed by Wesker, had pointed his gun at her and locked her in that cell in the underground lab, virtually preventing her from doing anything to help anyone else. She also told him that Wesker had probably ordered Barry to kill her, but he had failed to do so because they were friends and he was a good man, terrified that their monster of a captain could hurt his little girls and his wife.

  Jill stopped talking when she saw him slump asleep, despite the fact that he was trying to stay awake to listen to her with all his might. She took off Chris's sweatshirt and spread it over his torso like a blanket.

  "Rest well," she whispered to him, tenderhearted, and she could not hold back the instinct to sink, for a moment, her fingers into those soft, messy dark ringlets. "Bl@@dy poodle," she quoted Nicholai, mocking his thick accent, then she moved to face the bars, determined to be on the watch.

  
  

    
      
        
        
          Hello, my dears,as always due thanks to everyone, readers, commenters, and those who leave kudos, comments, and subscriptions, you are wonderful!Tonight I am really exhausted, I have been away for more or less five days, at the biggest comics and games expo in Italy (the Lucca Comics and Games), I have spent a lot of money, I am voiceless and on the verge, probably, of getting sick, but I am happy. Unfortunately, however, I have not been able to make the chapter any longer, I added about 500 words today after returning from work. In the next few days, I will try to get back on the right track and move forward with the writing, while hoping I won't get sick for real.In any case, I apologize for this shorter-than-usual chapter, I will try not to let it happen again.The focus is on Jill here. Probably, among the various protagonists, she is the one with the least tragic past, in the strictest sense of the term - meaning that she did not suffer severe grief and/or abuse during her childhood - but that does not mean that it was not hard for her. Since the backgrounds of the others are particularly tragic, I wanted to go and investigate other possible aspects that may have shaped her character. As I may have mentioned before, one of the great things about the RE saga is that it doesn't offer granite backgrounds, but instead lets our fanwriters' imaginations run wild. In this case, I tried to imagine a very affluent family for Jill, but also a hyper-controlling one, where her parents, especially her father, wanted to keep her under a bell jar and steer her life until she decided to run away and be the woman she had always wanted to be, even at the price of being alone (which was one more reason why she was attached to her dog).Thank you so much for still being here and again a thousand apologies for the shorter chapter, but, really, I tried hard to keep, at least, the day scheduled for the update. Also, we have passed 100k words (and still have eons to go)!A very big hug,Lady S.'
User: Are leon or chris in this chapter? 
User: Are leon or chris in this chapter? 
Assistant: