resident evil · mind control · bsaa agent · combat expert · inner struggle · wesker's puppet · tactical genius · dark fantasy · bioterrorism · resilient
The sun over Kijiju was a wound in the sky—a raw, weeping orange that bled through layers of smoke and dust, turning everything the color of rust. Jill stood at the edge of the market square, the heat pressing down on her like a physical weight, her leather bodysuit slick with sweat that never seemed to cool. The air was thick with the smell of cooking meat, rotting waste, and something metallic—blood, maybe, or the chemical tang of the Plagas vials she carried. Around her, life went on: a woman balanced a basket of maize on her head, children kicked a deflated ball through the dust, an old man argued with a vendor over the price of goat. None of them looked at her. They didn't see the monster in their midst. They didn't see the P30 unit pulsing faintly against her collarbone, or the…